No More Learning

an indescribable blessing,
which is as yet too recent to be considered as such
throughout the world. And Epicurus is once more
triumphant.
73-
For the "Truth " ! —" The truth of Chris-
tianity was attested by the virtuous lives of the


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j6 THE DAWN OF DAY.
Christians, their firmness in suffering, their un-
shakable belief, and above all by the spread and
increase of the faith in spite of all calamities. "—
That's how you talk even now. The more's the
pity. Learn, then, that all this proves nothing
either in favour of truth or against it; that truth
must be demonstrated differently from conscien-
tiousness, and that the latter is in no respect what-
ever an argument in favour of the former.
74-
A Christian ArriAee-pensee. —Would not
this have been a general reservation among
Christians of the first century: "It is better to
persuade ourselves into the belief that we are euilty
rather than that we are innocent; for it is impossible
to ascertain the disposition of so powerful a judge
—but it is to be feared that he is looking out only
for those who are conscious of guilt. Bearing in
mind his great power, it is more likely that he will
pardon a guilty person than admit that any one is
innocent, in his presence. " This was the feeling of
poor provincial folk in the presence of the Roman
praetor: " He is too proud for us to dare to be inno-
cent. " And may not this very sentiment have made
its influence felt when the Christians endeavoured
to picture to themselves the aspect of the Supreme
Judge?
75-
Neither European nor Noble. —There is
something Oriental and feminine inChristianity,and


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THE DAWN OF DAY. J?
this is shown in the thought, " Whom the Lord
loveth, He chasteneth "; for women in the Orient
consider castigations and the strict seclusion of their
persons from the world as a sign of their husband's
love, and complain if these signs of love cease.
76.
If you think it Evil, you make it Evil. —
The passions become evil and malignant when
regarded with evil and malignant eyes. It is in this
way that Christianity has succeeded in transforming
Eros and Aphrodite—sublime powers, capable of
idealisation — into hellish genii and phantom
goblins, by means of the pangs which every sexual
impulse was made to raise in the conscience of the
believers. Is it not a dreadful thing to transform
necessary and regular sensations into a source of
inward misery,and thus arbitrarily to render interior
misery necessary and regular in the case of every
man! Furthermore, this misery remains secret,
with the result that it is all the more deeply rooted;
for it is not all men who have the courage, which
Shakespeare shows in his sonnets, of making public
their Christian gloom on this point.
Must a feeling, then, always be called evil against
which we are forced to struggle, which we must
restrain even within certain limits, or, in given cases,
banish entirely from our minds? Is it not the habit
of vulgar souls always to call an enemy evil! and
must we call Eros an enemy? The sexual feelings,
like the feelings of pity and adoration, possess the
particular characteristic that, in their case, one being


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78 THE DAWN OF DAY.
gratifies another by the pleasure he enjoys—it is but
rarely that we meet with such a benevolent arrange-
ment in nature. And yet we calumniate and corrupt
it all by our bad conscience! We connect the pro-
creation of man with a bad conscience!
But the outcome of this diabolisation of Eros is
a mere farce: the " demon " Eros becomes an object
of greater interest to mankind than all the angels
and saints put together, thanks to the mysterious
Mumbo-Jumboism of the Church in all things
erotic: it is due to the Church that love stories,
even in our own time, have become the one common
interest which appeals to all classes of people—
with an exaggeration which would be incompre-
hensible to antiquity, and which will not fail to
provoke roars of laughter in coming generations.
All our poetising and thinking, from the highest to
the lowest, is marked, and more than marked, by
the exaggerated importance bestowed upon the love
story as the principal item of our existence.
Posterity may perhaps, on this account, come to
the conclusion that its entire legacy of Christian
culture is tainted with narrowness and insanity.
77-
The Tortures of the Soul. —The whole
world raises a shout of horror at the present day if
one man presumes to torture the body of another:
the indignation against such a being bursts forth
almost spontaneously. Nay; we tremble even at
the very thought of torture being inflicted on a
man or an animal, and we undergo unspeakable

X


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 79
misery when we hear of such an act having been
accomplished. But the same feeling is experienced
in a very much lesser degree and extent when it
is a question of the tortures of the soul and the
dreadfulness of their infliction. Christianity has
introduced such tortures on an unprecedented scale,
and still continues to preach this kind of martyr-
dom—yea, it even complains innocently of back-
sliding and indifference when it meets with a state
of soul which is free from such agonies. From all
this it now results that humanity, in the face of
spiritual racks, tortures of the mind, and instru-
ments of punishment, behaves even to-day with the
same awesome patience and indecision which it ex-
hibited in former times in the presence of the
cruelties practised on the bodies of men or animals.
Hell has certainly not remained merely an empty
sound; and a new kind of pity has been devised
to correspond to the newly-created fears of hell—
a horrible and ponderous compassion, hitherto un-
known; with people "irrevocably condemned to
hell," as, for example, the Stony Guest gave Don
Juan to understand, and which, during the Christian
era, should often have made the very stones weep.
Plutarch presents us with a gloomy picture of the
state of mind of a superstitious man in pagan times:
but this picture pales when compared with that of
a Christian of the Middle Ages, who supposes that
nothing can save him from "torments everlasting. "
Dreadful omens appear to him: perhaps he sees a
stork holding a snake in his beak and hesitating to
swallow it. Or all nature suddenly becomes pale;
or bright, fiery colours appear across the surface
y


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80 THE DAWN OF DAY.
of the earth. Or the ghosts of his dead relations
approach him, with features showing traces of
dreadful sufferings. Or the dark walls of the room
in which the man is sleeping are suddenly lighted
up, and there, amidst a yellow flame, he perceives
instruments of torture and a motley horde of snakes
and devils. Christianity has surely turned this
world of ours into a fearful habitation by raising
the crucifix in all parts and thereby proclaiming
the earth to be a place "where the just man is
tortured to death! " And when the ardour of
some great preacher for once disclosed to the public
the secret sufferings of the individual, the agonies
of the lonely souls, when, for example, Whitefield
preached "like a dying man to the dying," now
bitterly weeping, now violently stamping his feet,
speaking passionately, in abrupt and incisive tones,
without fearing to turn the whole force of his attack
upon any one individual present, excluding him
from the assembly with excessive harshness—then
indeed did it seem as if the earth were being trans-
formed into a "field of evil. " The huge crowds
were then seen to act as if seized with a sudden
attack of madness: many were in fits of anguish;
others lay unconscious and motionless; others,
again, trembled or rent the air with their piercing
shrieks. Everywhere there was a loud breathing,
as of half-choked people who were gasping for the
breath of life. "Indeed," said an eye-witness once,
"almost all the noises appeared to come from people
who were dying in the bitterest agony. "
Let us never forget that it was Christianity which
first turned the death-bed into a bed of agony, and


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 8i
that, by the scenes which took place there, and the
terrifying sounds which were made possible there
for the first time, it has poisoned the senses and the
blood of innumerable witnesses and their children.
Imagine the ordinary man who can never efface
the recollection of words like these: "Oh, eternity!
Would that I had no soul! Would that I had
never been born! My soul is damned, damned;
lost for ever! Six days ago you might have
helped me. But now all is over. I belong to the
devil, and with him I will go down to hell. Break,
break, ye poor hearts of stone! Ye will not break?
What more can be done for hearts of stone? I am
damned that ye may be saved! There he is!
Yea; there he is! Come, good devil! Come! "
78.
AVENGING JUstICe. —Misfortune and guilt:
these two things have been put on one scale by
Christianity; so that, when the misfortune which
follows a fault is a serious one, this fault is always
judged accordingly to be a very heinous one. But
this was not the valuation of antiquity, and that
is why Greek tragedy—in which misfortune and
punishment are discussed at length, and yet in
another sense—forms part of the great liberators
of the mind to an extent which even the ancients
themselves could not realise. They remained in-
genuous enough not to set up an "adequate rela-
tion" between guilt and misfortune. The guilt of
their tragic heroes is, indeed, the little pebble that
makes them stumble, and on which account they
F


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82 THE DAWN OF DAY.
sometimes happen to break an arm or knock out
an eye. Upon this the feeling of antiquity made
the comment, " Well, he should have gone his way
with more caution and less pride. " It was reserved
for Christianity, however, to say: "Here we have
a great misfortune, and behind this great misfortune
there must lie a great fault, an equally serious fmilt,
though we cannot clearly see it! If, wretched man,
you do not feel it,it is because your heart is hardened
—and worse than this will happen to you! "
Besides this, antiquity could point to examples
of real misfortunes, misfortunes that were pure
and innocent; it was only with the advent of
Christianity that all punishment became well-
merited punishment: in addition to this it renders
the imagination of the sufferer still more suffering,
so that the victim, in the midst of his distress, is
seized with the feeling that he has been morally
reproved and cast away. Poor humanity! The
Greeks had a special word to stand for the feeling of
indignation which was experienced at the misfortune
of another: among Christian peoples this feeling
was prohibited and was not permitted to develop;
hence the reason why they have no name for this
more virile brother of pity.
79-
A PROPOSal. —If, according to the arguments
of Pascal and Christianity, our ego is always hate-
ful, how can we permit and suppose other people,
whether God or men, to love it? It would be
contrary to all good principles to let ourselves be


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 83
loved when we know very well that we deserve
nothing but hatred—not to speak of other repug-
nant feelings. "But this is the very Kingdom of
Grace. " Then you look upon your love for your
neighbour as a grace? Your pity as a grace?
Well, then, if you can do all this, there is no reason
why you should not go a step further: love your-
selves through grace, and then you will no longer
find your God necessary, and the entire drama of
the Fall and Redemption of mankind will reach its
last act in yourselves!
80.
The Compassionate Christian. — A
Christian's compassion in the presence of his
neighbour's suffering has another side to it: viz.
his profound suspicion of all the joy of his neigh-
bour, of his neighbour's joy in everything that he
wills and is able to do.
81.
The Saint's Humanity. —A saint had fallen
into the company of believers, and could no longer
stand their continually expressed hatred for sin.
At last he said to them: "God created all things,
except sin: therefore it is no wonder that He does
not like it. But man has created sin, and why,
then, should he disown this only child of his merely
because it is not regarded with a friendly eye by
God, its grandfather? Is that human? Honour
to whom honour is due—but one's heart and duty
must speak, above all, in favour of the child—and
only in the second place for the honour of the
grandfather! "


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84 THE DAWN OF DAY.
82.
The Theological Attack. —"You must
arrange that with yourself; for your life is at
stake! "—Luther it is who suddenly springs upon
us with these words and imagines that we feel the
knife at our throats. But we throw him off with
the words of one higher and more considerate than
he: "We need form no opinion in regard to this
or that matter, and thus save our souls from trouble.
For, by their very nature, the things themselves
cannot compel us to express an opinion. "
S3-
POOR Humanity ! —A single drop of blood too
much or too little in the brain may render our life
unspeakably miserable and difficult, and we may
suffer more from this single drop of blood than
Prometheus from his vulture. But the worst is when
we do not know that this drop is causing our suffer-
ings—and we think it is " the devil! " Or " sin! "
84.
The Philology of Christianity. —How
little Christianity cultivates the sense of honesty
can be inferred from the character of the writings
of its learned men. They set out their conjectures
as audaciously as if they were dogmas, and are but
seldom at a disadvantage in regard to the inter-
pretation of Scripture. Their continual cry is: "I
am right, for it is written "—and then follows an
explanation so shameless and capricious that a


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 85
philologist, when he hears it, must stand stock-still
between anger and laughter, asking himself again
and again: Is it possible? Is it honest? Is it even
decent?
It is only those who never—or always—attend
church that underestimate the dishonesty with
which this subject is still dealt in Protestant
pulpits; in what a clumsy fashion the preacher
takes advantage of his security from interruption;
how the Bible is pinched and squeezed; and how
the people are made acquainted with every form of
the art of false reading.
When all is said and done, however, what can
be expected from the effects of a religion which,
during the centuries when it was being firmly
established, enacted that huge philological farce
concerning the Old Testament? I refer to that
attempt to tear the Old Testament from the hands
of the Jews under the pretext that it contained only
Christian doctrines and belonged to the Christians
as the true people of Israel, while the Jews had
merely arrogated it to themselves without authority.
This was followed by a mania of would-be inter-
pretation and falsification, which could not under
any circumstances have been allied with a good
conscience. However strongly Jewish savants pro-
tested, it was everywhere sedulously asserted that
the Old Testament alluded everywhere to Christ,
and nothing but Christ, more especially His Cross,
and thus, wherever reference was made to wood, a
rod, a ladder, a twig, a tree, a willow, or a staff,
such a reference could not but be a prophecy re-
lating to the wood of the Cross: even the setting-


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86 THE DAWN OF DAY.
up of the Unicorn and the Brazen Serpent, even
Moses stretching forth his hands in prayer—yea,
the very spits on which the Easter lambs were
roasted: all these were allusions to the Cross, and,
as it were, preludes to it! Did any one who kept
on asserting these things ever believe in them?
Let it not be forgotten that the Church did not
shrink from putting interpolations in the text of the
Septuagint (e. g. Ps. xcvi. I o), in order that she might
later on make use of these interpolated passages
as Christian prophecies. They were engaged in a
struggle, and thought of their foes rather than of
honesty.
85.
Subtlety in Penury. —Take care not to laugh
at the mythology of the Greeks merely because it
so little resembles your own profound metaphysics!
You should admire a peoplewho checked their quick
intellect at this point, and for a long time after-
wards had tact enough to avoid the danger of
scholasticism and hair-splitting superstition.
86.
The Christian Interpreters of the Body.
—Whatever originates in the stomach, the intes-
tines, the beating of the heart, the nerves, the bile,
the seed—all those indispositions, debilities, irrita-
tions, and the whole contingency of that machine
about which we know so little—a Christian like
Pascal considers it all as a moral and religious
phenomenon, asking himself whether God or the


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 87
devil, good or evil, salvation or damnation, is the
cause. Alas for the unfortunate interpreter! How
he must distort and worry his system! How he
must distort and worry himself in order to gain
his point!
87.
The Moral Miracle. —In the domain of
morality, Christianity knows of nothing but the
miracle: the sudden change in all valuations, the
sudden renouncement of all habits, the sudden and
irresistible predilection for new things and persons.
Christianity looks upon this phenomenon as the
work of God, and calls it the act of regeneration,
thus giving it a unique and incomparable value.
Everything else which is called morality, and which
bears no relation to this miracle, becomes in con-
sequence a matter of indifference to the Christian,
and indeed, so far as it is a feeling of well-being
and pride, an object of fear. The canon of virtue,
of the fulfilled law, is established in the New
Testament, but in such a way as to be the canon
of impossible virtue: men who still aspire to moral
perfections must come to understand, in the face
of this canon, that they are further and further
removed from their aim; they must despair of
virtue, and end by throwing themselves at the feet
of the Merciful One.
It is only in reaching a conclusion like this that
moral efforts on the part of the Christian can still
be regarded as possessing any value: the condition
that these efforts shall always remain sterile, painful,
and melancholy is therefore indispensable; and it


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88 THE DAWN OF DAY.
is in this way that those efforts could still avail to
bring about that moment of ecstasy when man ex-
periences the " overflow of grace" and the moral
miracle. This struggle for morality is, however,
not necessary; for it is by no means uncommon for
this miracle to happen to the sinner at the very
moment when he is, so to speak, wallowing in the
mire of sin: yea, the leap from the deepest and
most abandoned sinfulness into its contrary seems
easier, and, as a clear proof of the miracle, even
more desirable.
What, for the rest, may be the signification of
such a sudden, unreasonable, and irresistible re-
volution, such a change from the depths of misery
into the heights of happiness? (might it be a
disguised epilepsy ? ) This should at all events
be considered by alienists, who have frequent op-
portunities of observing similar "miracles "—for
example, the mania of murder or suicide. The
relatively "more pleasant consequences" in the case
of the Christian make no important difference.
88.
Luther, the Great Benefactor. —Luther's
most important result is the suspicion which he
awakened against the saints and the entire Christian
vita contemplativa; only since his day has an un-
christian vita contemplativa again become possible
in Europe, only since then has contempt for laymen
and worldly activity ceased. Luther continued to
be an honest miner's son even after he had been
shut up in a monastery, and there, for lack of other
S


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 89
depths and "borings," he descended into himself,
and bored terrifying and dark passages through his
own depths—finally coming to recognise that an
introspective and saintly life was impossible to him,
and that his innate " activity" in body and soul
would end by being his ruin. For a long time,
too long, indeed, he endeavoured to find the way
to holiness through castigations; but at length he
made up his mind, and said to himself: "There is
no real vita contemplativa! We have been deceived.
The saints were no better than the rest of us. "
This was truly a rustic way of gaining one's case;
but for the Germans of that period it was the only
proper way. How edified they felt when they could
read in their Lutheran catechism: "Apart from the
Ten Commandments there is no work which could
find favour in the eyes of God—these much-boasted
spiritual works of the saints are purely imaginary! "
89.
Doubt as Sin. —Christianity has done all it
possibly could to draw a circle round itself, and has
even gone so far as to declare doubt itself to be
a sin. We are to be precipitated into faith by a
miracle, without the help of reason, after which we
are to float in it as the clearest and least equivocal
of elements—a mere glance at some solid ground,
the thought that we exist for some purpose other
than floating, the least movement of our amphibious
nature: all this is a sin! Let it be noted that,
following this decision, the proofs and demonstra-
tion of the faith, and all meditations upon its origin,


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90 THE DAWN OF DAY.
are prohibited as sinful. Christianity wants blind-
ness and frenzy and an eternal swan-song above
the waves under which reason has been drowned!
90.
Egoism versus Egoism. —How many are there
who still come to the conclusion: "Life would be
intolerable were there no God! " Or, as is said in
idealistic circles: "Life would be intolerable if its
ethical signification were lacking. " Hence there
must be a God—or an ethical signification of
existence! In reality the case stands thus: He
who is accustomed to conceptions of this sort does
not desire a life without them, hence these concep-
tions are necessary for him and his preservation—
but what a presumption it is to assert that every-
thing necessary for my preservation must exist
in reality! As if my preservation were really
necessary! What if others held the contrary
opinion? if they did not care to live under the
conditions of these two articles of faith, and did not
regard life as worth living if they were realised ! —
And that is the present position of affairs.
91-
The Honesty of God.
—An omniscient and
omnipotent God who does not even take care that
His intentions shall be understood by His creatures
—could He be a God of goodness? A God, who,
for thousands of years, has permitted innumerable
doubts and scruples to continue unchecked as if
they were of no importance in the salvation of man-


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 91
kind, and who, nevertheless, announces the most
dreadful consequences for any one who mistakes his
truth? Would he not be a cruel god if, being him-
self in possession of the truth, he could calmly con-
template mankind, in a state of miserable torment,
worrying its mind as to what was truth?
Perhaps, however, he really is a God of goodness,
and was unable to express Himself more clearly?
Perhaps he lacked intelligence enough for this?
Or eloquence? All the worse! For in such a
case he may have been deceived himself in regard
to what he calls his "truth," and may not be far
from being another " poor, deceived devil! " Must
he not therefore experience all the torments of hell
at seeing His creatures suffering so much here below
—and even more, suffering through all eternity—
when he himself can neither advise nor help them,
except as a deaf and dumb person, who makes all
kinds of equivocal signs when his child or his dog
is threatened with the most fearful danger? A dis-
tressed believer who argues thus might be pardoned
if his pity for the suffering God were greater than
his pity for his "neighbours"; for they are his
neighbours no longer if that most solitary and
primeval being is also the greatest sufferer and
stands most in need of consolation.
Every religion shows some traits of the fact that
it owes its origin to a state of human intellectuality
which was as yet too young and immature: they
all make light of the necessity for speaking the
truth: as yet they know nothing of the duty of
God, the duty of being clear and truthful in His
communications with men. No one was more


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90
THE DAWN OF DAY.
are prohibited as sinful. Christianity wants blind-
ness and frenzy and an eternal swan-song above
the waves under which reason has been drowned !
90.
EGOISM VERSUS EGOISM. —How many are there
who still come to the conclusion: “Life would be
intolerable were there no God! ” Or, as is said in
idealistic circles : “Life would be intolerable if its
ethical signification were lacking. ” Hence there
must be a God—or an ethical signification of
existence! In reality the case stands thus : He
who is accustomed to conceptions of this sort does
not desire a life without them, hence these concep-
tions are necessary for him and his preservation-
but what a presumption it is to assert that every-
thing necessary for my preservation must exist
in reality! As if my preservation were really
necessary! What if others held the contrary
opinion ? if they did not care to live under the
conditions of these two articles of faith, and did not
regard life as worth living if they were realised ! -
And that is the present position of affairs.
91.
THE HONESTY OF GOD. -An omniscient and
omnipotent God who does not even take care that
His intentions shall be understood by His creatures
-could He be a God of goodness ? A God, who,
for thousands of years, has permitted innumerable
doubts and scruples to continue unchecked as if
they were of no importance in the salvation of man-


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THE DAWN OF DAY.
91
kind, and who, nevertheless, announces the most
dreadful consequences for any one who mistakes his
truth? Would he not be a cruel god if, being him-
self in possession of the truth, he could calmly con-
template mankind, in a state of miserable torment,
worrying its mind as to what was truth?
Perhaps, however, he really is a God of goodness,
and was unable to express Himself more clearly ?
Perhaps he lacked intelligence enough for this ?
Or eloquence ? All the worse! For in such a
case he may have been deceived himself in regard
to what he calls his “truth," and may not be far
from being another“ poor, deceived devil ! ” Must
he not therefore experience all the torments of hell
at seeing His creatures suffering so much here below
—and even more, suffering through all eternity-
when he himself can neither advise nor help them,
except as a deaf and dumb person, who makes all
kinds of equivocal signs when his child or his dog
is threatened with the most fearful danger ? A dis-
tressed believer who argues thus might be pardoned
if his pity for the suffering God were greater than
his pity for his "neighbours"; for they are his
neighbours no longer if that most solitary and
primeval being is also the greatest sufferer and
stands most in need of consolation.
Every religion shows some traits of the fact that
it owes its origin to a state of human intellectuality
which was as yet too young and immature: they
all make light of the necessity for speaking the
truth: as yet they know nothing of the duty of
God, the duty of being clear and truthful in His
communications with men. No one was more


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92 THE DAWN OF DAY.
eloquent than Pascal in speaking of the "hidden
God " and the reasons why He had to keep Himself
hidden, all of which indicates clearly enough that
Pascal himself could never make his mind easy on
this point: but he speaks with such confidence that
one is led to imagine that he must have been let
into the secret at some time or other. He seemed
to have some idea that the deus absconditus bore
a few slight traces of immorality; and he felt too
much ashamed and afraid of acknowledging this
to himself: consequently, like a man who is afraid,
he spoke as loudly as he could.
92.
At the Death-bed of Christianity. —All
truly active men now do without inward Christian-
ity, and the most moderate and thoughtful men of
the intellectual middle classes possess only a kind
of modified Christianity; that is, a peculiarly sim-
plified Christianity. A God who, in his love, ordains
everything so that it may be best for us, a God who
gives us our virtue and our happiness and then
takes them away from us, so that everything at
length goes on smoothly and there is no reason
left why we should take life ill or grumble about it:
in short, resignation and modesty raised to the rank
of divinities—that is the best and most lifelike
remnant of Christianity now left to us. It must
be remembered, however, that in this way Christi-
anity has developed into a soft moralism: instead
of " God, freedom, and immortality," we have now
a kind of benevolence and honest sentiments, and
the belief that, in the entire universe, benevolence


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 93
and honest sentiments will finally prevail: this is
the euthanasia of Christianity.
93-
What is Truth ? —Who will not be pleased
with the conclusions which the faithful take such
delight in coming to ? —" Science cannot be true;
for it denies God. Hence it does not come from
God; and consequently it cannot be true—for God
is truth. " It is not the deduction but the premise
which is fallacious. What if God were not exactly
truth, and if this were proved? And if he were
instead the vanity, the desire for power, the am-
bitions, the fear, and the enraptured and terrified
folly of mankind?
94-
Remedy for the Displeased. —Even Paul
already believed that some sacrifice was necessary
to take away the deep displeasure which God
experienced concerning sin: and ever since then
Christians have never ceased to vent the ill-humour
which they felt with themselves upon some victim
or another—whether it was "the world," or
"history," or "reason," or joy, or the tranquillity
of other men—something good, no matter what,
had to die for their sins (even if only in effigie)!
95-
The Historical Refutation as the De-
cisive One. —Formerly it was sought to prove
that there was no God—now it is shown how the
belief that a God existed could have originated,


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94 THE DAWN OF DAY.
and by what means this belief gained authority
and importance: in this way the counterproof that
there is no God becomes unnecessary and super-
fluous. —In former times, when the " evidences of
the existence of God" which had been brought
forward were refuted, a doubt still remained, viz.
whether better proofs could not be found than those
which had just been refuted: at that time the atheists
did not understand the art of making a tabula
rasa.
96.
"IN HOC SIGNO VINCEs. "—To whatever degree
of progress Europe may have attained in other
respects, where religious affairs are concerned it
has not yet reached the liberal naivete* of the
ancient Brahmins, which proves that, in India, four
thousand years ago, people meditated more pro-
foundly and transmitted to their descendants more
pleasure in meditating than is the case in our own
days. For those Brahmins believed in the first
place that the priests were more powerful than the
gods, and in the second place that it was observ-
ances which constituted the power of the priests:
as a result of which their poets were never tired of
glorifying those observances (prayers, ceremonies,
sacrifices, chants, improvised melodies) as the real
dispensers of all benefits. Although a certain
amount of superstition and poetry was mingled
with all this, the principles were true! A step
further, and the gods were cast aside—which
Europe likewise will have to do before very long!
One more step further, and priests and intermedi-


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 95
aries could also be dispensed with—and then
Buddha, the teacher of the religion of self-redemp-
tion, appeared. How far Europe is still removed
from this degree of culture! When at length all
the customs and observances, upon which rests the
power of gods, priests, and saviours, shall have been
destroyed, when as a consequence morality, in the
old sense, will be dead, then there will come . . .
yea, what will come then? But let us refrain from
speculating; let us rather make certain that Europe
will retrieve that which, in India, amidst this people
of thinkers, was carried out thousands of years ago
as a commandment of thought!
Scattered among the different nations of Europe
there are now from ten to twenty millions of men
who no longer "believe in God "—is it too much
to ask that they should give each other some
indication or password? As soon as they re-
cognise each other in this way, they will also make
themselves known to each other; and they will
immediately become a power in Europe, and,
happily, a power among the nations! among the
classes! between rich and poor! between those
who command, and those who obey! between the
most restless and the most tranquil, tranquillising
people!


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BOOK II.
97-
One becomes Moral—but not because one is
moral! Submission to morals may be due to
slavishness or vanity, egoism or resignation, dismal
fanaticism or thoughtlessness. It may, again,
be an act of despair, such as submission to the
authority of a ruler; but there is nothing moral
about it per se.
98.
Alterations in Morals. —Morals are con-
stantly undergoing changes and transformations,
occasioned by successful crimes. (To these, for ex-
ample, belong all innovations in moral judgments. )
99-
Wherein we are all Irrational. —We still
continue to draw conclusions from judgments which
we consider as false, or doctrines in which we no
longer believe,—through our feelings.
100.
Awaking from a Dream. —Noble and wise
men once upon a time believed in the music of the
G


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98 THE DAWN OF DAY.
spheres; there are still noble and wise men who
believe in " the moral significance of existence," but
there will come a day when this music of the spheres
also will no longer be audible to them. They will
awake and perceive that their ears have been dream-
ing.
IOI.
Open to Doubt. —To accept a belief simply be-
cause it is customary implies that one is dishonest,
cowardly, and lazy. —Must dishonesty, cowardice,
and laziness, therefore, be the primary conditions
of morality?
102.
The most Ancient Moral Judgments. —
What attitude do we assume towards the acts of
our neighbour ? —In the first place, we consider how
they may benefit ourselves—we see them only in
this light. It is this effect which we regard as the
intention of the acts,—and in the end we come
to look upon these intentions of our neighbour
as permanent qualities in him, and we call him,
for example, " a dangerous man. " Triple error!
Triple and most ancient mistake! Perhaps this
inheritance comes to us from the animals and their
faculty of judgment! Must not the origin of all
morality be sought in these detestable narrow-
minded conclusions: "Whatever injures me is evil
(something injurious in itself), whatever benefits me
is good (beneficial and profitable in itself), what-
ever injures me once or several times is hostile per
se; whatever benefits me once or several times is


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 99
friendly per se. " 0 pudenda origo! Is not this
equivalent to interpreting the contemptible, occa-
sional, and often merely accidental relations of an-
other person to us as his primary and most essential
qualities, and affirming that towards himself and
every one else he is only capable of such actions as
we ourselves have experienced at his hands once or
several times! And is not this thorough folly based
upon the most immodest of all mental reservations:
namely, that we ourselves must be the standard of
what is good, since we determine good and evil?
103.
There are Two Classes of People who
DENY MOraLITY. —To deny morality may mean,
in the first place, to deny the moral inducements
which, men pretend, have urged them on to their
actions,—which is equivalent to saying" that
morality merely consists of words and forms, part of
that coarse and subtle deceit (especially self-deceit)
which is characteristic of mankind, and perhaps
more especially of those men who are celebrated for
their virtues. In the second place, it may mean our
denying that moral judgments are founded on
truths. It is admitted in such a case that these
judgments are, in fact, the motives of the actions,
but that in this way it is really errors as the basis
of all moral judgments which urge men on to their
moral actions. This is my point of view; but I
should be far from denying that in very many cases
a subtle suspicion in accordance with the former
point of view—i. e. in the spirit of La Rochefoucauld


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IOO THE DAWN OF DAY.
—is also justifiable,and in anycaseof a high general
utility. —Therefore I deny morality in the same
way as I deny alchemy, i. e. I deny its hypotheses;
but I do not deny that there have been alchemists
who believed in these hypotheses and based their
actions upon them. I also deny immorality—not
that innumerable people feel immoral, but that
there is any true reason why they should feel so.
I should not, of course, deny—unless I were a fool
—that many actions which are called immoral
should be avoided and resisted; and in the same
way that many which are called moral should be
performed and encouraged; but I hold that in both
cases these actions should be performed from
motives other than those which have prevailed up
to the present time. We must learn anew in order
that at last, perhaps very late in the day, we may be
able to do something more: feel anew.
104.
Our Valuations. —All actions may be re-
ferred back to valuations, and all valuations are
either one's own or adopted, the latter being by far
the more numerous. Why do we adopt them?
Through fear, i. e. we think it more advisable to
pretend that they are our own, and so well do we
accustom ourselves to do so that it at last becomes
second nature to us. A valuation of our own,
which is the appreciation of a thing in accordance
with the pleasure or displeasure it causes us and
no one else; is something very rare indeed ! —But
must not our valuation of our neighbour—which


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THE DAWN OF DAY. IOI
is prompted by the motive that we adopt his valu-
ation in most cases-—proceed from ourselves and by
our own decision? Of course, but then we come to
these decisions during our childhood, and seldom
change them. We often remain during our whole
lifetime the dupes of our childish and accustomed
judgments in our manner of judging our fellow-
men (their minds, rank, morality, character, and
reprehensibility), and we find it necessary to sub-
scribe to their valuations.
105.
PSEUDO-EgoISM. — The great majority of
people, whatever they may think and say about
their " egoism," do nothing for their ego all their
life long, but only for a phantom of this ego which
has been formed in regard to them by their friends
and communicated to them. As a consequence,
they all live in a haze of impersonal and half-
personal opinions and of arbitrary and, as it were,
poetic valuations: the one always in the head of
another, and this head, again, in the head of some-
body else—a queer world of phantoms which
manages to give itself a rational appearance! This
haze of opinions and habits grows in extent and
lives almost independently of the people it sur-
rounds; it is it which gives rise to the immense
effect of general judgments on " man "—all those
men, who do not know themselves, believe in a
bloodless abstraction which they call "man," i. e.
in a fiction; and every change caused in this ab-
straction by the judgments of powerful individu-


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102 THE DAWN OF DAY.
alities (such as princes and philosophers) produces
an extraordinary and irrational effect on the great
majority,—for the simple reason that not a single
individual in this haze can oppose a real ego,
an ego which is accessible to and fathomed by
himself, to the universal pale fiction, which he
could thereby destroy.
106.
Against Definitions of Moral Aims. —On
all sides we now hear the aim of morals defined as
the preservation and advancement of humanity; but
this is merely the expression of a wish to have a
formula and nothing more. Preservation wherein?
advancement whither? These are questions which
must at once be asked. Is not the most essential
point, the answer to this wherein f and whither?
left out of the formula? What results therefrom,
so far as our own actions and duties are concerned,
which is not already tacitly and instinctively under-
stood? Can we sufficiently understand from this
formula whether we must prolong as far as possible
the existence of the human race, or bring about the
greatest possible disanimalisation of man? How
different the means, i. e. the practical morals, would
have to be in the two cases! Supposing that the
greatest possible rationality were given to mankind,
this certainly would not guarantee the longest
possible existence for them! Or supposing that
their " greatest happiness" was thought to be the
answer to the questions put, do we thereby mean
the highest degree of happiness which a few in-


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 103
dividuals might attain, or an incalculable, though
finally attainable, average state of happiness for
all? And why should morality be the way to it?
Has not morality, considered as a whole, opened up
so many sources of displeasure as to lead us to
think that man up to the present, with every new
refinement of morality, has become more and more
discontented with himself, with his neighbour, and
with his own lot? Has not the most moral of men
hitherto believed that the only justifiable state of
mankind in the face of morals is that of the deepest
misery?
107.
Our Right to our Folly. —How must we
act? Why must we act? So far as the coarse and
immediate needs of the individual are concerned,
it is easy to answer these questions, but the more
we enter upon the more important and more subtle
domainsof action, themoredoes the problem become
uncertain and the more arbitrary its solution. An
arbitrary decision, however, is the very thing that
must be excluded here,—thus commands the auth-
ority of morals: an obscure uneasiness and awe
must relentlessly guide man in those very actions
the objects and means of which he cannot at once
perceive. This authority of morals undermines our
thinking faculty in regard to those things concern-
ing which it might be dangerous to think wrongly,
—it is in thisway,at all events, that morality usually
justifies itself to its accusers. Wrong in this place
means dangerous; but dangerous to whom? It


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104 THE DAWN OF DAY.
is not, as a rule, the danger of the doer of the action
which the supporters of authoritative morals have
in view, but their own danger; the loss which their
power and influence might undergo if the right to
act according to their own greater or lesser reason,
however wilfully and foolishly, were accorded to all
men. They on their part make unhesitating use
of their right to arbitrariness and folly,—they even
command in cases where it is hardly possible, or at
all events very difficult, to answer the questions,
"How must they act, why must they act? " And
if the reason of mankind grows with such extra-
ordinary slowness that it was often possible to deny
its growth during the whole course of humanity,
what is more to blame for this than this solemn
presence, even omnipresence, of moral commands,
which do not even permit the individual question
of how and why to be asked at all? Have we not
been educated precisely in such a way as to make
us feel pathetic, and thus to obscure our vision at
the very time when our reason should be able to
see as clearly and calmly as possible—i. e. in all
higher and more important circumstances?
108.
Some Theses.