No More Learning

Everything, therefore, was originally custom, and
whoever wished to raise himself above it, had first
of all to make himself a kind of lawgiver and
medicine-man, a sort of demi-god—in other words,
he had to create customs, a dangerous and fearful
thing to do! —Who is the most moral man? On
the one hand, he who most frequently obeys the
law: e. g. he who, like the Brahmins, carries a con-
sciousness of the law about with him wherever he
may go, and introduces it into the smallest divisions
of time, continually exercising his mind in finding
opportunities for obeying the law. On the other


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16 THE DAWN OF DAY.
hand, he who obeys the law in the most difficult
cases. The most moral man is he who makes the
greatest sacrifices to morality; but what are the
greatest sacrifices? In answering this question
several different kinds of morality will be de-
veloped: but the distinction between the morality
of the most frequent obedience and the morality of
the most difficult obedience is of the greatest import-
ance. Let us not be deceived as to the motives of
that moral law which requires, as an indication of
morality, obedience to custom in the most difficult
cases! Self-conquest is required, not by reason
of its useful consequences for the individual; but
that custom and tradition may appear to be domin-
ant, in spite of all individual counter desires and
advantages. The individual shall sacrifice himself
—so demands the morality of custom.
On the other hand, those moralists who, like the
followers of Socrates, recommend self-control and
sobriety to the individual as his greatest possible
advantage and the key to his greatest personal
happiness, are exceptions—and if we ourselves do
not think so, this is simply due to our having been
brought up under their influence. They all take a
new path, and thereby bring down upon themselves
the utmost disapproval of all the representatives of
the morality of custom. They sever their connec-
tion with the community, as immoralists, and are,
in the fullest sense of the word, evil ones. In the
same way, every Christian who " sought, above all
things, his own salvation," must have seemed evil
to a virtuous Roman of the old school. Wherever
a community exists, and consequently also a


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 17
morality of custom, the feeling prevails that any
punishment for the violation of a custom is inflicted,
above all, on the community: this punishment is
a supernatural punishment, the manifestations
and limits of which are so difficult to understand,
and are investigated with such superstitious fear.
The community can compel any one member of it
to make good, either to an individual or to the
community itself, any ill consequences which may
have followed upon such a member's action. It can
also call down a sort of vengeance upon the head of
the individual by endeavouring to show that, as the
result of his action, a storm of divine anger has burst
over the community,—but, above all, it regards the
guilt of the individual more particularly as its own
guilt, and bears the punishment of the isolated indi-
vidual as its own punishment—" Morals," they be-
wail in their innermost heart, " morals have grown
lax, if such deeds as these are possible. " And every
individual action, every individual mode of think-
ing, causes dread. It is impossible to determine
how much the more select, rare, and original minds
must have suffered in the course of time by being
considered as evil and dangerous, yea, because they
even looked upon themselves as such. Under the
dominating influence of the morality of custom,
originality of every kind came to acquire a bad
conscience; and even now the sky of the best minds
seems to be more overcast by this thought than it
need be.
10.
Counter-motion between the Sense of
Morality and the Sense of Causality. —As
B


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18 THE DAWN OF DAY.
the sense of causality increases, so does the extent
of the domain of morality decrease: for every time
one has been able to grasp the necessary effects, and
to conceive them as distinct from all incidentals and
chance possibilities {post hoc), one has, at the same
time, destroyed an enormous number of imaginary
causalities, which had hitherto been believed in
as the basis of morals—the real world is much
smaller than the world of our imagination—and
each time also one casts away a certain amount
of one's anxiousness and coercion, and some of
our reverence for the authority of custom is lost:
morality in general undergoes a diminution. He
who, on the other hand, wishes to increase it must
know how to prevent results from becoming con-
trollable.
11.
Morals and Medicines of the People. —
Every one is continuously occupied in bringing
more or less influence to bear upon the morals which
prevail in a community: most of the people bring
forward example after example to show the alleged
relationship between cause and effect, guilt and
punishment, thus upholding it as well founded and
adding to the belief in it. A few make new ob-
servations upon the actions and their consequences,
drawing conclusions therefrom and laying down
laws; a smaller number raise objections and allow
belief in these things to become weakened. —But
they are all alike in the crude and unscientific
manner in which they set about their work: if it is
a question of objections to a law, or examples or


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 19
observations of it, or of its proof, confirmation, ex-
pression or refutation, we always find the material
and method entirely valueless, as valueless as the
material and form of all popular medicine. Popular
medicines and popular morals are closely related,
and should not be considered and valued, as is still
customary, in so different a way: both are most
dangerous and make-believe sciences.
1 2.
Consequence as Adjuvant Cause. —
Formerly the consequences of an action were con-
sidered, not as the result of that action, but a volun-
tary adjuvant—i. e. on the part of God. Can a
greater confusion be imagined? Entirely different
practices and means have to be brought into use for
actions and effects!
13-
Towards the New Education of Mankind.
—Help us, all ye who are well-disposed and willing
to assist, lend your aid in the endeavour to do away
with that conception of punishment which has swept
over the whole world! No weed more harmful than
this! It is not only to the consequences of our
actions that this conception has been applied—and
how horrible and senseless it is to confuse cause and
effect with cause and punishment! —but worse has
followed: the pure accidentally of events has been
robbed of its innocence by this execrable manner
of interpreting the conception of punishment. Yea,
they have even pushed their folly to such extremes


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20 THE DAWN OF DAY.
that they would have us look upon existence itself
as a punishment—from which it would appear that
the education of mankind had hitherto been con-
fided to cranky gaolers and hangmen.
14.
The Signification of Madness in the
History of Morality. —If, despite that formid-
able pressure of the " morality of custom," under
which all human communities lived—thousands of
years before our own era, and during our own era
up to the present day (we ourselves are dwelling in
the small world of exceptions, and, as it were, in an
evil zone) :—if, I say, in spite of all this, new and
divergent ideas, valuations, and impulses have made
their appearance time after time, this state of things
has been brought about only with the assistance of
a dreadful associate: it was insanity almost every-
where that paved the way for the new thought and
cast off the spell of an old custom and superstition.
Do ye understand why this had to be done through
insanity? by something which is in both voice and
appearance as horrifying and incalculable as the
demoniac whims of wind and sea, and consequently
calling for like dread and respect? by something
bearing upon it the signs of entire lack of conscious-
ness as clearly as the convulsions and foam of the
epileptic, which appeared to typify the insane
person as the mask and speaking-trumpet of some
divine being? by something that inspired even the
bearer of the new thought with awe and fear of
himself, and that, suppressing all remorse, drove


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 21
him on to become its prophet and martyr ? —Well,
in our own time, we continually hear the statement
reiterated that genius is tinctured with madness
instead of good sense. Men of earlier ages were
far more inclined to believe that, wherever traces
of insanity showed themselves, a certain proportion
of genius and wisdom was likewise present—some-
thing " divine," as they whispered to one another.
More than this, they expressed their opinions on
the point with sufficient emphasis. "All the great-
est benefits of Greece have sprung from madness,"
said Plato, setting on record the opinion of the
entire ancient world. Let us take a step further: all
those superior men, who felt themselves irresistibly
urged on to throw off the yoke of some morality
or other, had no other resource—if they -were not
really mad—than to feign madness, or actually to
become insane. And this holds good for innovators
in every department of life, and not only in religion
and politics. Even the reformer of the poetic metre
was forced to justify himself by means of madness.
(Thus even down to gentler ages madness remained
a kind of convention in poets, of which Solon, for in-
stance, took advantage when urging the Athenians
to reconquer Salamis. )—"How can one make one's
self mad when one is not mad and dare not feigri to
be so? " Almost all the eminent men of antiquity
have given themselves up to this dreadful mode of
reasoning: a secret doctrine of artifices and dietetic
jugglery grew up around this subject and was
handed down from generation to generation,together
with the feeling of the innocence, even sanctity, of
such plans and meditations. The means of be-


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22 THE DAWN OF DAY.
coming a medicine-man among the Indians, a saint
among Christians of the Middle Ages, an angecok
among Greenlanders, a Pagee among Brazilians,
are the same in essence: senseless fasting, con-
tinual abstention from sexual intercourse, isolation
in a wilderness, ascending a mountain or a pillar,
"sitting on an aged willow that looks out upon a
lake," and thinking of absolutely nothing but what
may give rise to ecstasy or mental derangements.
Who would dare to glance at the desert of the
bitterest and most superfluous agonies of spirit, in
which probably the most productive men of all ages
have pined away? Who could listen to the sighs of
those lonely and troubled minds: "O ye heavenly
powers, grant me madness! Madness, that I at
length may believe in myself! Vouchsafe delirium
and convulsions, sudden flashes of light and periods
of darkness; frighten me with such shivering and
feverishness as no mortal ever experienced before,
with clanging noises and haunting spectres; let me
growl and whine and creep about like a beast, if
only I can come to believe in myself! I am de-
voured by doubt. I have slain the law, and I now
dread the law as a living person dreads a corpse.
If I am not above the law, I am the most abandoned
of wretches. Whence cometh this new spirit that
dwelleth within me but from you? Prove to me,
then, that I am one of you—nothing but madness
will prove it to me. " And only too often does
such a fervour attain its object: at the very time
when Christianity was giving the greatest proof of
its fertility in the production of saints and martyrs,
believing that it was thus proving itself, Jerusalem


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 23
contained large lunatic asylums for shipwrecked
saints, for those whose last spark of good sense
had been quenched by the floods of insanity.
IS-
The most Ancient Means of Solace. —
First stage: In every misfortune or discomfort
man sees something for which he must make some-
body else suffer, no matter who—in this way he
finds out the amount of power still remaining to
him; and this consoles him. Second stage: In
every misfortune or discomfort, man sees a punish-
ment, i. e. an expiation of guilt and the means by
which he may get rid of the malicious enchantment
of a real or apparent wrong. When he perceives
the advantage which misfortune brings with it, he
believes he need no longer make another person
suffer for it—he gives up this kind of satisfaction,
because he now has another.
16.
First Principle of Civilisation. —Among
savage tribes there is a certain category of customs
which appear to aim at nothing but custom. They
therefore lay down strict, and, on the whole, super-
fluous regulations {e. g. the rules of the Kamcha-
dales, which forbid snow to be scraped off the boots
with a knife, coal to be stuck on the point of a
knife, or a piece of iron to be put into the fire—
and death to be the portion of every one who shall
act contrariwise! ) Yet these laws serve to keep
people continually reminded of the custom, and


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24 THE DAWN OF DAY.
the imperative necessity on their parts to conform
to it: and all this in support of the great principle
which stands at the beginning of all civilisation:
any custom is better than none.
17-
Goodness and Malignity. —At first men im-
posed their own personalities on Nature: every-
where they saw themselves and their like, i. e. their
own evil and capricious temperaments, hidden, as
it were, behind clouds, thunder-storms, wild beasts,
trees, and plants: it was then that they declared
Nature was evil Afterwards there came a time,
that of Rousseau, when they sought to distin-
guish themselves from Nature: they were so
tired of each other that they wished to have
separate little hiding-places where man and his
misery could not penetrate: then they invented
"nature is good. "
18.
The Morality of Voluntary Suffering. —
What is the highest enjoyment for men living in
a state of war in a small community, the existence
of which is continually threatened, and the morality
of which is the strictest possible? i. e. for souls which
are vigorous, vindictive, malicious, full of suspicion,
ready to face the direst events, hardened by priva-
tion and morality? The enjoyment of cruelty:
just as, in such souls and in such circumstances, it
would be regarded as a virtue to be ingenious and
insatiable in cruelty. Such a community would


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 25
find its delight in performing cruel deeds, casting
aside, for once, the gloom of constant anxiety and
precaution. Cruelty is one of the most ancient
enjoyments at their festivities. As a consequence
it is believed that the gods likewise are pleased by
the sight of cruelty and rejoice at it—and in this
way the belief is spread that voluntary suffering,
self-chosen martyrdom, has a high signification
and value of its own. In the community custom
gradually brings about a practice in conformity
with this belief: henceforward people become more
suspicious of all exuberant well-being, and more
confident as they find themselves in a state of great
pain; they think that the gods may be unfavour-
able to them on account of happiness, and favour-
able on account of pain—not compassionate! For
compassion is looked upon with contempt, and un-
worthy of a strong and awe-inspiring soul—but
agreeable to them, because the sight of human
suffering put these gods into good humour and
makes them feel powerful, and a cruel mind revels
in the sensation of power. It was thus that the
"most moral man" of the community was con-
sidered as such by virtue of his frequent suffering,
privation, laborious existence, and cruel mortifica-
tion—not, to repeat it again and again, as a means
of discipline or self-control or a desire for indi-
vidual happiness—but as a virtue which renders
the evil gods well-disposed towards the community,
a virtue which continually wafts up to them the
odour of an expiatory sacrifice. All those intel-
lectual leaders of the nations who reached the
point of being able to stir up the sluggish though


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26 THE DAWN OF DAY.
prolific mire of their customs had to possess this
factor of voluntary martyrdom as well as insanity
in order to obtain belief—especially, and above all,
as is always the case, belief in themselves! The
more their minds followed new paths, and were
consequently tormented by pricks of conscience,
the more cruelly they battled against their own flesh,
their own desires, and their own health—as if they
were offering the gods a compensation in pleasure,
lest these gods should wax wroth at the neglect of
ancient customs and the setting up of new aims.
Let no one be too hasty in thinking that we have
now entirely freed ourselves from such a logic of
feeling! Let the most heroic souls among us
question themselves on this very point. The least
step forward in the domain of free thought and
individual life has been achieved in all ages to the
accompanimentof physical and intellectual tortures:
and not only the mere step forward, no! but every
form of movement and change has rendered neces-
sary innumerable martyrs, throughout the entire
course of thousands of years which sought their
paths and laid down their foundation-stones, years,
however, which we do not think of when we speak
about "world-history," that ridiculously small
division of mankind's existence. And even in this
so-called world-history, which in the main is merely
a great deal of noise about the latest novelties,
there is no more important theme than the old,
old tragedy of the martyrs who tried to move the
mire. Nothing has been more dearly bought than
the minute portion of human reason and feeling of
liberty upon which we now pride ourselves. But


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 2J
it is this very pride which makes it almost im-
possible for us to-day to be conscious of that
enormous lapse of time, preceding the period of
"world-history" when "morality of custom " held
the field, and to consider this lapse of time as the
real and decisive epoch that established the character
of mankind: an epoch when suffering was con-
sidered as a virtue, cruelty as a virtue, hypocrisy
as a virtue, revenge as a virtue, and the denial of
the reason as a virtue, whereas, on the other hand,
well-being was regarded as a danger, longing for
knowledge as a danger, peace as a danger, com-
passion as a danger: an epoch when being pitied
was looked upon as an insult, work as an insult,
madness as a divine attribute, and every kind of
change as immoral and pregnant with ruin! You
imagine that all this has changed, and that
humanity must likewise have changed its character?
Oh, ye poor psychologists, learn to know yourselves
better!
19-
Morality and Stupefaction. —Custom re-
presents the experiences of men of earlier times in
regard to what they considered as useful and harm-
ful; but the feeling of custom (morality) does not
relate to these feelings as such, but to the age, the
sanctity, and the unquestioned authority of the
custom. Hence this feeling hinders our acquiring
new experiences and amending morals: i. e. mor-
ality is opposed to the formation of new and better
morals: it stupefies.


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28 THE DAWN OF DAY.
20.
Free-doers and Free-thinkers. — Com-
pared with free-thinkers, free-doers are at a dis-
advantage, because it is evident that men suffer
more from the consequences of actions than of
thoughts. If we remember, however, that both
seek their own satisfaction, and that free-thinkers
have already found their satisfaction in reflection
upon and utterance of forbidden things, there is
no difference in the motives; but in respect of
the consequences the issue will be decided against
the free-thinker, provided that it be not judged
from the most superficial and vulgar external
appearance, i. e. not as every one would judge it.
We must make up for a good deal of the calumny
with which men have covered all those who have,
by their actions, broken away from the authority of
some custom—they are generally called criminals.
Every one who has hitherto overthrown a law of
established morality has always at first been con-
sidered as a wicked man: but when it was after-
wards found impossible to re-establish the law, and
people gradually became accustomed to the change,
the epithet was changed by slow degrees. History
deals almost exclusively with these wicked men,
who later on came to be recognised as good men.
21.
"Fulfilment of the Law. "—In cases where
the observance of a moral precept has led to
different consequence from that expected and


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 29
promised, and does not bestow upon the moral man
the happiness he had hoped for, but leads rather to
misfortune and misery, the conscientious and timid
man has always his excuse ready: "Something
was lacking in the proper carrying out of the law. "
If the worst comes to the worst, a deeply-suffering
and down-trodden humanity will even decree: "It
is impossible to carry out the precept faithfully:
we are too weak and sinful, and, in the depths of
our soul, incapable of morality: consequently we
have no claim to happiness and success. Moral
precepts and promises have been given for better
beings than ourselves. "
22.
Works and Faith. —Protestant teachers are
still spreading the fundamental error that faith
only is of consequence, and that works must follow
naturally upon faith. This doctrine is certainly
not true, but it is so seductive in appearance that
it has succeeded in fascinating quite other intellects
than that of Luther {eg. the minds of Socrates and
Plato): though the plain evidence and experience
of our daily life prove the contrary. The most
assured knowledge and faith cannot give us either
the strength or the dexterity required for action,
or the practice in that subtle and complicated
mechanism which is a prerequisite for anything to
be changed from an idea into action. Then, I say,
let us first and foremost have works! and this
means practice! practice! practice! The neces-
sary faith will come later—be certain of that!


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30 THE DAWN OF DAY.
23-
In what Respect we are most Subtle. —
By the fact that, for thousands of years, things
(nature, tools, property of all kinds) were thought
to be alive and to possess souls, and able to hinder
and interfere with the designs of man, the feeling
of impotence among men has become greater and
more frequent than it need have been: for one
had to secure one's things like men and beasts,
by means of force, compulsion, flattery, treaties,
sacrifices—and it is here that we may find the
origin of the greater number of superstitious
customs, i. e. of an important, perhaps paramount,
and nevertheless wasted and useless division of
mankind's activity ! —But since the feeling of im-
potence and fear was so strong, and for such a
length of time in a state of constant stimulation,
the feeling of power in man has been developed in
so subtle a manner that, in this respect, he can
compare favourably with the most delicately-
adjusted balance. This feeling has become his
strongest propensity: and the means he discovered
for creating it form almost the entire history of
culture.
24.
The Proof of a Precept. —The worth or
worthlessness of a recipe—that for baking bread,
for example—is proved, generally speaking, by
the result expected coming to pass or not, provided,
of course, that the directions given have been care-


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 31
fully followed. The case is different, however,
when we come to deal with moral precepts, for
here the results cannot be ascertained, interpreted,
and divined. These precepts, indeed, are based
upon hypotheses of but little scientific value, the
proof or refutation of which by means of results is
impossible:—but in former ages, when all science
was crude and primitive, and when a matter was
taken for granted on the smallest evidence, then
the worth or worthlessness of a moral recipe was
determined as we now determine any other precept:
by reference to the results. I f the natives of Alaska
believe in a command which says: " Thou shalt not
throw a bone into the fire or give it to a dog," this
will be proved by the warning: " If thou dost thou
wilt have no luck when hunting. " Yet, in one
sense or another, it almost invariably happens that
one has " no luck when hunting. " It is no easy
matter to refute the worth of the precept in this
way, the more so as it is the community, and not
the individual, which is regarded as the bearer of
the punishment; and, again, some occurrence is
almost certain to happen which seems to prove the
rule.
25-
Customs and Beauty. —In justice to custom
it must not be overlooked that, in the case of all
those who conform to it whole-heartedly from the
very start, the organs of attack and defence, both
physical and intellectual, begin to waste away; i. e.
these individuals gradually become more beautiful!
For it is the exercise of these organs and their corre-


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32 THE DAWN OF DAY.
sponding feelings that brings about ugliness and
helps to preserve it. It is for this reason that the
old baboon is uglier than the young one, and that
the young female baboon most closely resembles
man, and is hence the most handsome. —Let us
draw from this our own conclusions as to the origin
of female beauty!
26.
Animals and Morals.
—The rules insisted
upon in polite society, such, for example, as the
avoidance of everything ridiculous, fantastic, pre-
sumptuous; the suppression of one's virtues just as
much as of one's most violent desires, the instant
bringing of one's self down to the general level, sub-
mitting one's self to etiquette and self-depreciation:
all this, generally speaking, is to be found, as a
social morality, even in the lowest scale of the
animal world—and it is only in this low scale that
we see the innermost plan of all these amiable pre-
cautionary regulations: one wishes to escape from
one's pursuers and to be aided in the search for
plunder. Hence animals learn to control and to
disguise themselves to such an extent that some
of them can even adapt the colour of their
bodies to that of their surroundings (by means
of what is known as the "chromatic function ").
Others can simulate death, or adopt the forms
and colours of other animals, or of sand, leaves,
moss, or fungi (known to English naturalists as
"mimicry ").
It is in this way that an individual conceals him-
self behind the universality of the generic term


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 33
"man" or "society," or adapts and attaches him-
self to princes, castes, political parties, current
opinions of the time, or his surroundings: and we
may easily find the animal equivalent of all those
subtle means of making ourselves happy, thankful,
powerful, and fascinating. Even that sense of truth,
which is at bottom merely the sense of security, is
possessed by man in common with the animals: we
do not wish to be deceived by others or by our-
selves; we hear with some suspicion the promptings
of our own passions, we control ourselves and
remain on the watch against ourselves. Now, the
animal does all this as well as man; and in the
animal likewise self-control originates in the sense
of reality (prudence). In the same way, the animal
observes the effects it exercises on the imagination
of other beasts: it thus learns to view itself from
their position, to consider itself " objectively "; it
has its own degree of self-knowledge. The animal
judges the movements of its friends and foes, it
learns their peculiarities by heart and acts accord-
ingly: it gives up, once and for all, the struggle
against individual animals of certain species, and it
likewise recognises, in the approach of certain
varieties, whether their intentions are agreeable and
peaceful. The beginnings of justice, like those of
wisdom—in short, everything which we know as
the Socratic virtues—are of an animal nature: a
consequence of those instincts which teach us to
search for food and to avoid our enemies. If we
remember that the higher man has merely raised
and refined himself in the quality of his food and in
the conception of what is contrary to his nature, it
C


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34 THE DAWN OF DAY.
may not be going too far to describe the entire
moral phenomenon as of an animal origin.
27.
The Value of the Belief in Superhuman
PAssIONs. —The institution of marriage stubbornly
upholds the belief that love, although a passion, is
nevertheless capable of duration as such, yea, that
lasting, lifelong love may be taken as a general
rule. By means of the tenacity of a noble belief,
in spite of such frequent and almost customary
refutations — thereby becoming a pia fraus —
marriage has elevated love to a higher rank.
Every institution which has conceded to a passion
the belief in the duration of the latter, and responsi-
bility for this duration, in spite of the nature of
the passion itself, has raised the passion to a higher
level: and he who is thenceforth seized with such
a passion does not, as formerly, think himself
lowered in the estimation of others or brought into
danger on that account, but on the contrary believes
himself to be raised, both in the opinion of himself
and of his equals. Let us recall institutions and
customs which, out of the fiery devotion of a
moment, have created eternal fidelity; out of the
pleasure of anger, eternal vengeance; out of despair,
eternal mourning; out of a single hasty word,
eternal obligation. A great deal of hypocrisy and
falsehood came into the world as the result of such
transformations; but each time, too, at the cost of
such disadvantages, a new and superhuman concep-
tion which elevates mankind.


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 35
2 8.
State of Mind as Argument. — Whence
arises within us a cheerful readiness for action ? —
such is the question which has greatly occupied the
attention of men. The most ancient answer, and
one which we still hear, is: God is the cause; in
this way He gives us to understand that He ap-
proves of our actions. When, in former ages, people
consulted the oracles, they did so that they might
return home strengthened by this cheerful readi-
ness; and every one answered the doubts which
came to him, if alternative actions suggested them-
selves, by saying: "I shall do whatever brings
about that feeling. " They did not decide, in other
words, for what was most reasonable, but upon some
plan the conception of which imbued the soul with
courage and hope. A cheerful outlook was placed
in the scales as an argument and proved to be
heavier than reasonableness; for the state of mind
was interpreted in a superstitious manner as the
action of a god who promises success; and who,
by this argument, lets his reason speak as the
highest reasonableness. Now, let the consequences
of such a prejudice be considered when shrewd men,
thirsting for power, availed themselves of it—and
still do so ! " Bring about the right state of mind! "
—in this way you can do without all arguments and
overcome every objection!
29.
Actors of Virtue and Sin. —Among the
ancients who became celebrated for their virtue


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36 THE DAWN OF DAY.
there were many, it would seem, who acted to them-
selves, especially the Greeks, who, being actors by
nature, must have acted quite unconsciously, seeing
no reason why they should not do so. In addition,
every one was striving to outdo some one else's
virtue with his own, so why should they not have
made use of every artifice to show off their virtues,
especially among themselves, if only for the sake of
practice! Of what use was a virtue which one could
not display, and which did not know how to display
itself! —Christianity put an end to the career of
these actors of virtue; instead it devised the dis-
gusting ostentation and parading of sins: it brought
into the world a state of mendacious sinfulness (even
at the present day this is considered as bon ton
among orthodox Christians).
30.
Refined Cruelty as Virtue. —Here we have
a morality which is based entirely upon our thirst
for distinction—do not therefore entertain too high
an opinion of it! Indeed, we may well ask what
kind of an impulse it is, and what is its fundamental
signification? It is sought, by our appearance, to
grieve our neighbour, to arouse his envy, and to
awaken his feelings of impotence and degradation;
we endeavour to make him taste the bitterness of
his fate by dropping a little of our honey on his
tongue, and,while conferring thissupposed benefiton
him, looking sharply and triumphantly into his eyes.
Behold such a man, now become humble, and
perfect in his humility—and seek those for whom,
through his humility, he has for a long time been


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 37
preparing a torture; for you are sure to find them!
Here is another man who shows mercy towards
animals, and is admired for doing so—but there
are certain people on whom he wishes to vent his
cruelty by this very means. Look at that great
artist: the pleasure he enjoyed beforehand in con-
ceiving the envy of the rivals he had outstripped,
refused to let his powers lie dormant until he became
a great man—how many bitter moments in the
souls of other men has he asked for as payment foT
his own greatness! The nun's chastity: with what
threatening eyes she looks into the faces of other
women who live differently from her! what a vin-
dictive joy shines in those eyes! The theme is
short, and its variations, though they might well be
innumerable, could not easily become tiresome—for
it is still too paradoxical a novelty, and almost a
painful one, to affirm that the morality of distinction
is nothing, at bottom, but joy in refined cruelty.
When I say "at bottom," I mean here, every time
in the first generation. For, when the habit of some
distinguished action becomes hereditary, its root, so
to speak, is not transmitted, but only its fruits (for
only feelings, and not thoughts, can become heredi-
tary): and, if we presuppose that this root is not
reintroduced by education, in the second generation
the joy in the cruelty is no longer felt: but only
pleasure in the habit as such. This joy, however,
is the first degree of the " good. "
31-
Pride in Shrit. —The pride of man, which
strives to oppose the theory of our owu descent


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38 THE DAWN OF DAY.
from animals and establishes a wide gulf between
nature and man himself—this pride is founded
upon a prejudice as to what the mind is; and this
prejudice is relatively recent. In the long pre-
historical period of humanity it was supposed that
the mind was everywhere, and men did not look
upon it as a particular characteristic of their own.
Since, on the contrary, everything spiritual (includ-
ing all impulses, maliciousness, and inclinations)
was regarded as common property, and conse-
quently accessible to everybody, primitive mankind
was not ashamed of being descended from animals
or trees (the noble races thought themselves
honoured by such legends), and saw in the spiritual
that which unites us with nature, and not that which
severs us from her. Thus man was brought up in
modesty—and this likewise was the result of a
prejudice.
32.
The Brake. —To suffer morally, and then to
learn afterwards that this kind of suffering was
founded upon an error, shocks us. For there is a
unique consolation in acknowledging, by our suffer-
ing, a " deeper world of truth " than any other world,
and we would much rather suffer and feel ourselves
above reality by doing so (through the feeling that,
in this way, we approach nearer to that "deeper
world of truth "), than live without suffering and
hence without this feeling of the sublime. Thus
it is pride, and the habitual fashion of satisfying it,
which opposes this new interpretation of morality.
What power, then, must we bring into operation to



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THE DAWN OF DAY. 39
get rid of this brake? Greater pride? A new
pride?
33-
The Contempt of Causes, Consequences,
AND Reality. —Those unfortunate occurrences
which take place at times in the community, such
as sudden storms, bad harvests, or plagues, lead
members of the community to suspect that offences
against custom have been committed, or that new
customs must be invented to appease a new de-
moniac power and caprice. Suspicion and reason-
ing of this kind, however, evade an inquiry into the
real and natural causes, and take the demoniac cause
for granted. This is one source of the hereditary
perversion of the human intellect; and the other
one follows in its train, for, proceeding on the same
principle, people paid much less attention to the real
and natural consequences of an action than to the
supernatural consequences (the so-called punish-
ments and mercies of the Divinity). It is com-
manded, for instance, that certain baths are to be
taken at certain times: and the baths are taken,
not for the sake of cleanliness, but because the com-
mand has been made. We are not taught to avoid
the real consequences of dirt, but merely the sup-
posed displeasure of the gods because a bath has
been omitted. Under the pressure of superstitious
fear, people began to suspect that these ablutions
were of much greater importance than they seemed;
they ascribed inner and supplementary meanings to
them, gradually lost their sense of and pleasure in
reality, and finally reality is considered as valuable


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40 THE DAWN OF DAY.
only to the extent that it is a symbol. Hence a man
who is under the influence of the morality of
custom comes to despise causes first of all, secondly
consequences, and thirdly reality, and weaves all his
higher feelings (reverence, sublimity, pride, grati-
tude, love) into an imaginary world: the so-called
higher world. And even to-day we can see the
consequences of this: wherever, and in whatever
fashion, man's feelings are raised, that imaginary
world is in evidence. It is sad to have to say it;
but for the time being all higher sentiments must
be looked upon with suspicion by the man of
science, to so great an extent are they intermingled
with illusion and extravagance. Not that they
need necessarily be suspected per se and for ever;
but there is no doubt that, of all the gradual puri-
fications which await humanity, the purification of
the higher feelings will be one of the slowest.
34-
Moral Feelings and Conceptions. —It is
clear that moral feelings are transmitted in such a
way that children perceive in adults violent pre-
dilections and aversions for certain actions, and
then, like born apes, imitate such likes and dis-
likes. Later on in life, when they are thoroughly
permeated by these acquired and well-practised
feelings, they think it a matter of propriety and
decorum to provide a kind of justification for
these predilections and aversions. These "justifica-
tions," however, are in no way connected with the
origin or the degree of the feeling: people simply


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 41
accommodate themselves to the rule that, as rational
beings, they must give reasons for their pros and
cons, reasons which must be assignable and accept-
able into the bargain. Up to this extent the history
of the moral feelings is entirely different from the
history of moral conceptions. The first-mentioned
are powerful before the action, and the latter
especially after it, in view of the necessity for making
one's self clear in regard to them.
35-
Feelings and their Descent from Judg-
ments. —" Trust in your feelings! " But feelings
comprise nothing final, original; feelings are based
upon the judgments and valuations which are trans-
mitted to us in the shape of feelings (inclinations,
dislikes). The inspiration which springs from a
feeling is the grandchild of a judgment—often an
erroneous judgment! —and certainly not one's own
judgment! Trusting in our feelings simply means
obeying our grandfather and grandmother more
than the gods within ourselves: our reason and
experience.
36.
A Foolish Piety, with Axriere-pensees. —
What! the inventors of ancient civilisations, the
first makers of tools and tape lines, the first builders
of vehicles, ships, and houses, the first observers of
the laws of the heavens and the multiplication tables
—is it contended that they were entirely different
from the inventors and observers of our own time,


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42 THE DAWN OF DAY.
and superior to them? And that the first slow
steps forward were of a value which has not been
equalled by the discoveries we have made with all
our travels and circumnavigations of the earth?
It is the voice of prejudice that speaks thus, and
argues in this way to depreciate the importance of
the modern mind. And yet it is plain to be seen
that, in former times, hazard was the greatest of
all discoverers and observers and the benevolent
prompter of these ingenious ancients, and that, in
the case of the most insignificant invention now
made, a greater intellect, discipline, and scientific
imagination are required than formerly existed
throughout long ages.
37-
Wrong Conclusions from Usefulness. —
When we have demonstrated the highest utility of
a thing, we have nevertheless made no progress
towards an explanation of its origin ; in other words,
we can never explain, by mere utility, the necessity
of existence. But precisely the contrary opinion
has been maintained up to the present time, even
in the domain of the most exact science. In
astronomy, for example, have we not heard it
stated that the (supposed) usefulness of the system
of satellites—(replacing the light which is dimin-
ished in intensity by the greater distance of the
sun, in order that the inhabitants of the various
celestial bodies should not want for light)—was
the final object of this system and explained its
origin? Which may remind us of the conclusions
of Christopher Colombus: The earth has been


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 43
created for man, ergo, if there are countries, they
must be inhabited. "Is it probable that the sun
would throw his rays on nothing, and that the
nocturnal vigils of the stars should be wasted upon
untravelled seas and unpeopled countries? "
38.
Impulses transformed by Moral Judg-
ments. —The same impulse, under the impression
of the blame cast upon it by custom, develops into
the painful feeling of cowardice, or else the plea-
surable feeling of humility, in case a morality, like
that of Christianity, has taken it to its heart and
called it good. In other words, this instinct will
fall under the influence of either a good conscience
or a bad one! In itself, like every instinct, it does
not possess either this or indeed any other moral
character and name, or even a definite accompany-
ing feeling of pleasure or displeasure; it does not
acquire all these qualities as its second nature until
it comes into contact with impulses which have
already been baptized as good and evil, or has been
recognised as the attribute of beings already weighed
and valued by the people from a moral point of
view. Thus the ancient conception of envy differed
entirely from ours. Hesiod reckons it among the
qualities of the good, benevolent Eris, and it was
not considered as offensive to attribute some kind
of envy even to the gods. This is easy to under-
stand in a state of things inspired mainly by emu-
lation, but emulation was looked upon as good,
and valued accordingly.


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44 THE DAWN OF DAY.
The Greeks were likewise different from us in
the value they set upon hope: they conceived it as
blind and deceitful. Hesiod in one of his poems
has made a strong reference to it—a reference so
strong, indeed, that no modern commentator has
quite understood it; for it runs contrary to the
modern mind, which has learnt from Christianity
to look upon hope as a virtue. Among the Greeks,
on the other hand, the portal leading to a know-
ledge of the future seemed only partly closed, and,
in innumerable instances, it was impressed upon
them as a religious obligation to inquire into the
future, in those cases where we remain satisfied with
hope. It thus came about that the Greeks, thanks
to their oracles and seers, held hope in small esteem,
and even lowered it to the level of an evil and a
danger.
The Jews, again, took a different view of anger
from that held by us, and sanctified it: hence they
have placed the sombre majesty of the wrathful
man at an elevation so high that a European can-
not conceive it. They moulded their wrathful and
holy Jehovah after the images of their wrathful
and holy prophets. Compared with them, all the
Europeans who have exhibited the greatest wrath
are, so to speak, only second-hand creatures.
39-
The Prejudice concerning " Pure Spirit. "
—Wherever the doctrine of pure spirituality has
prevailed, its excesses have resulted in the destruc-
tion of the tone of the nerves: it taught that the


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THE DAWN OF DAY. 45
body should be despised, neglected, or tormented,
and that, on account of his impulses, man himself
should be tortured and regarded with contempt.
It gave rise to gloomy, strained, and downcast
souls—who, besides, thought they knew the reason
of their misery and how it might possibly be re-
lieved ! " It must be in the body! For it still
thrives too well! "—such was their conclusion,
whilst the fact was that the body, through its
agonies, protested time after time against this
never-ending mockery. Finally, a universal and
chronic hyper-nervousness seized upon those
virtuous representatives of the pure spirit: they
learned to recognise joy only in the shape of
ecstasies and other preliminary symptoms of in-
sanity—and their system reached its climax when
it came to look upon ecstasy as the highest aim
of life, and as the standard by which all earthly
things must be condemned.
40.
Meditations upon Observances. —
Numerous moral precepts, carelessly drawn from
a single event, quickly became incomprehensible;
it was as difficult a matter to deduce their in-
tentions with any degree of certainty as it was to
recognise the punishment which was to follow the
breaking of the rule. Doubts were even held re-
garding the order of the ceremonies; but, while
people guessed at random about such matters,
the object of their investigations increased in im-
portance, it was precisely the greatest absurdity


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46 THE DAWN OF DAY.
of an observance that developed into a holy of
holies. Let us not think too little of the energy
wasted by man in this regard throughout thou-
sands of years, and least of all of the effects of
such meditations upon observances! Here we find
ourselves on the wide training-ground of the in-
tellect—not only do religions develop and con-
tinue to increase within its boundaries: but here
also is the venerable, though dreadful, primeval
world of science; here grow up the poet, the
thinker, the physician, the lawgiver. The dread
of the unintelligible, which, in an ambiguous
fashion, demanded ceremonies from us, gradually
assumed the charm of the intricate, and where
man could not unravel he learnt to create.
41.
TO DETERMINE THE ValUE OF THE ViTA
Contemplativa. —Let us not forget, as men lead-
ing a contemplative life, what kind of evil and
misfortunes have overtaken the men of the vita
activa as the result of contemplation—in short,
what sort of contra-account the vita activa has to
offer us, if we exhibit too much boastfulness before
it with respect to our good deeds. It would show
us, in the first place, those so-called religious
natures, who predominate among the lovers of
contemplation and consequently represent their
commonest type. They have at all times acted in
such a manner as to render life difficult to practical
men, and tried to make them disgusted with it,
if possible: to darken the sky, to obliterate the



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THE DAWN OF DAY. 47
sun, to cast suspicion upon joy, to depreciate hope,
to paralyse the active hand—all this they knew
how to do, just as, for miserable times and feelings,
they had their consolations, alms, blessings, and
benedictions. In the second place, it can show us
the artists, a species of men leading the vita con-
templativa, rarer than the religious element, but
still often to be met with. As beings, these people
are usually intolerable, capricious, jealous, violent,
quarrelsome: this, however, must be deduced
from the joyous and exalting effects of their
works.
Thirdly, we have the philosophers, men who
unite religious and artistic qualities, combined,
however, with a third element, namely, dialectics
and the love of controversy. They are the authors
of evil in the same sense as the religious men and
artists, in addition to which they have wearied many
of their fellow-men with their passion for dialectics,
though their number has always been very small.
Fourthly, the thinkers and scientific workers.
They but rarely strove after effects, and contented
themselves with silently sticking to their own
groove. Thus they brought about little envy and
discomfort, and often, as objects of mockery and
derision, they served, without wishing to do so, to
make life easier for the men of the vita activa.
Lastly, science ended by becoming of much advan-
tage to all; and if, on account of this utility, many
of the men who were destined for the vita activa
are now slowly making their way along the road
to science in the sweat of their brow, and not with-
out brain-racking and maledictions, this is not the


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48 THE DAWN OF DAY.
fault of the crowd of thinkers and scientific workers:
it is " self-wrought pain. " *
42.
Origin of the Vita Contemplativa. —Dur-
ing barbarous ages, when pessimistic judgments
held sway over men and the world, the individual,
in the consciousness of his full power, always en-
deavoured to act in conformity with such judg-
ments, that is to say, he put his ideas into action
by means of hunting, robbery, surprise attacks,
brutality, and murder: including the weaker forms
of such acts, as far as they are tolerated within the
community. When his strength declines, however,
and he feels tired, ill, melancholy, or satiated—
consequently becoming temporarily void of wishes
or desires—he is a relatively better man, that is
to say, less dangerous; and his pessimistic ideas
will now discharge themselves only in words and
reflections—upon his companions, for example, or
his wife, his life, his gods,—his judgments will be
evil ones. In this frame of mind he develops into
a thinker and prophet, or he adds to his super-
stitions and invents new observances, or mocks his
enemies. Whatever he may devise, however, all
the productions of his brain will necessarily reflect
his frame of mind, such as the increase of fear and
weariness, and the lower value he attributes to
action and enjoyment. The substance of these
productions must correspond to the substance of
* M. Henri Albert points out that this refers to a line of Paul
Gerhardt's well-known song: "Befiel du deine Wege. " Tr.



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THE DAWN OF DAY. 49
these poetic, thoughtful, and priestly moods; the
evil judgment must be supreme.
In later years, all those who acted continuously
as this man did in those special circumstances—
i. e. those who gave out pessimistic judgments, and
lived a melancholy life, poor in action—were called
poets, thinkers, priests, or "medicine-men. " The
general body of men would have liked to disregard
such people, because they were not active enough,
and to turn them out of the community; but there
was a certain risk in doing so: these inactive men
had found out and were following the tracks of
superstition and divine power, and no one doubted
that they had unknown means of power at their
disposal. This was the value which was set upon
the ancient race of contemplative natures—despised
as they were in just the same degree as they were
not dreaded! In such a masked form, in such an
ambiguous aspect, with an evil heart and often with
a troubled head, did Contemplation make its first
appearance on earth: both weak and terrible at
the same time, despised in secret, and covered in
public with every mark of superstitious veneration.
Here, as always, we must say: pudenda origo I
43-
How many Forces must now be united
IN A Thinker. —To rise superior to considerations
of the senses, to raise one's self to abstract con-
templations: this is what was formerly regarded
as elevation; but now it is not practicable for us
to share the same feelings. Luxuriating in the
D


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50 THE DAWN OF DAY.
most shadowy images of words and things; play-
ing with those invisible, inaudible, imperceptible
beings, was considered as existence in another
and higJter world, a world that sprang from the deep
contempt felt for the world which was percep-
tible to the senses, this seductive and wicked world
of ours. "These abstracta no longer mislead us,
but they may lead us"—with such words men
soared aloft. It was not the substance of these
intellectual sports, but the sports themselves, which
was looked upon as "the higher thing" in the
primeval ages of science. Hence we have Plato's
admiration for dialectics, and his enthusiastic belief
in the necessary relationship of dialectics to the
good man who has risen superior to the considera-
tions of his senses. It was not only knowledge
that was discovered little by little, but also the
different means of acquiring it, the conditions and
operations which precede knowledge in man. And
it always seemed as if the newly-discovered opera-
tion or the newly-experienced condition were not
a means of acquiring knowledge, but was even the
substance, goal, and sum-total of everything that
was worth knowing. What does the thinker re-
quire? ■— imagination, inspiration, abstraction,
spirituality, invention, presentiment, induction,
dialectics, deduction, criticism, ability to collect
materials, an impersonal mode of thinking, con-
templation, comprehensiveness, and lastly, but not
least, justice, and love for everything that exists—
but each one of these means was at one time con-
sidered, in the history of the vita contemplatrva, as
a goal and final purpose, and they all secured for



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