No More Learning

We have turned
reaction into progress.
27.
A Substitute for Religion. —It is believed
that something good is said of philosophy when
it is put forward as a substitute for religion for
the people. As a matter of fact, in the spiritual
economy there is need, at times, of an intermediary
order of thought: the transition from religion to
scientific contemplation is a violent, dangerous
leap, which is not to be recommended. To this
extent the recommendation is justifiable. But
one should eventually learn that the needs which
have been satisfied by religion and are now to
be satisfied by philosophy are not unchangeable;


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FIRST AND LAST THINGS.
43
these themselves can be weakened and eradicated.
Think, for instance, of the Christian's distress of
soul, his sighing over inward corruption, his anxiety
for salvation,—all notions which originate only in
errors of reason and deserve not satisfaction but
destruction. A philosophy can serve either to
satisfy those needs or to set them aside; for they
are acquired, temporally limited needs, which are
based upon suppositions contradictory to those
of science. Here, in order to make a transition,
art is far rather to be employed to relieve the mind
over-burdened with emotions; for those notions
receive much less support from it than from a
metaphysical philosophy. It is easier, then, to
pass over from art to a really liberating philo-
sophical science.
28.
Ill-famed Words. —Away with those weari-
somely hackneyed terms Optimism and Pessimism!
For the occasion for using them becomes less and
less from day to day; only the chatterboxes still
find them so absolutely necessary. For why in
all the world should any one wish to be an optimist
unless he had a God to defend who must have
created the best of worlds if he himself be goodness
and perfection,—what thinker, however, still needs
the hypothesis of a God? But every occasion for
a pessimistic confession of faith is also lacking when
one has no interest in being annoyed at the advo-
cates of God (the theologians, or the theologising
philosophers), and in energetically defending the
opposite view, that evil reigns, that pain is greater



## p. 43 (#70) ##############################################

34 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that there are things (but there is no "thing ").
The supposition of plurality always presumes that
there is something which appears frequently,—but
here already error reigns, already we imagine
beings, unities, which do not exist. Our sensations
of space and time are false, for they lead—ex-
amined in sequence—to logical contradictions.
In all scientific determinations we always reckon
inevitably with certain false quantities, but as these
quantities are at least constant, as, for instance,
our sensation of time and space, the conclusions
of science have still perfect accuracy and certainty
in their connection with one another; one may
continue to build upon them—until that final limit
where the erroneous original suppositions, those
constant faults, come into conflict with the con-
clusions, for instance in the doctrine of atoms.
There still we always feel ourselves compelled to
the acceptance of a "thing" or material "sub-
stratum " that is moved, whilst the whole scientific
procedure has pursued the very task of resolving
everything substantial (material) into motion; here,
too, we still separate with our sensation the mover
and the moved and cannot get out of this circle,
because the belief in things has from immemorial
times been bound up with our being. When Kant
says, "The understanding does not derive its
laws from Nature, but dictates them to her," it is
perfectly true with regard to the idea of Nature
which we are compelled to associate with her
(Nature = World as representation, that is to say
as error), but which is the summing up of a
number of errors of the understanding. The laws


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FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 35
of numbers are entirely inapplicable to a world
which is not our representation—these laws obtain
only in the human world.
20.
A Few Steps Back. —A degree of culture,
and assuredly a very high one, is attained when
man rises above superstitious and religious notions
and fears, and, for instance, no longer believes in
guardian angels or in original sin, and has also
ceased to talk of the salvation of his soul,—if he
has attained to this degree of freedom, he has still
also to overcome metaphysics with the greatest
exertion of his intelligence. Then, however, a re-
trogressive movement is necessary; he must under-
stand the historical justification as well as the
psychological in such representations, he must
recognise how the greatest advancement of
humanity has come therefrom, and how, without
such a retrocursive movement, we should have
been robbed of the best products of hitherto
existing mankind. With regard to philosophical
metaphysics, I always see increasing numbers
who have attained to the negative goal (that all
positive metaphysics is error), but as yet few who
climb a few rungs backwards; one ought to look
out, perhaps, over the last steps of the ladder, but
not try to stand upon them. The most enlightened
only succeed so far as to free themselves from
metaphysics and look back upon it with superiority,
while it is necessary here, too, as in the hippo-
drome, to turn round the end of the course.


## p. 43 (#72) ##############################################

36 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
-
21.
Conjectural Victory of Scepticism. —For
once let the sceptical starting-point be accepted,
—granted that there were no other metaphysical
world, and all explanations drawn from meta-
physics about the only world we know were useless
to us, in what light should we then look upon
men and things? We can think this out for
ourselves, it is useful, even though the question
whether anything metaphysical has been scientific-
ally proved by Kant and Schopenhauer were
altogether set aside. For it is quite possible,
according to historical probability, that some time
or other man, as a general rule, may grow sceptical;
the question will then be this: What form will
human society take under the influence of such a
mode of thought? Perhaps the scientific proof of
some metaphysical world or other is already so
dijficult that mankind will never get rid of a cer-
tain distrust of it. And when there is distrust
of metaphysics, there are on the whole the same
results as if it had been directly refuted and could
no longer be believed in. The historical question
with regard to an unmetaphysical frame of mind
in mankind remains the same in both cases.
22.
Unbelief in the " Monvmentum are per-
ennius" — An actual drawback which accom-
panies the cessation of metaphysical views lies in the
fact that the individual looks upon his short span


## p. 43 (#73) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 37
of life too exclusively and receives no stronger in-
centives to build durable institutions intended to
last for centuries,—he himself wishes to pluck the
fruit from the tree which he plants, and therefore
he no longer plants those trees which require
regular care for centuries, and which are destined
to afford shade to a long series of generations.
For metaphysical views furnish the belief that in
them the last conclusive foundation has been given,
upon which henceforth all the future of mankind
is compelled to settle down and establish itself;
the individual furthers his salvation, when, for
instance, he founds a church or convent, he thinks
it will be reckoned to him and recompensed to
him in the eternal life of the soul, it is work for
the soul's eternal salvation. Can science also
arouse such faith in its results? As a matter of
fact, it needs doubt and distrust as its most faithful
auxiliaries; nevertheless in the course of time, the
sum of inviolable truths—those, namely, which
have weathered all the storms of scepticism, and
all destructive analysis—may have become so great
(in the regimen of health, for instance), that one
may determine to found thereupon "eternal" works.
For the present the contrast between our excited
ephemeral existence and the long-winded repose
of metaphysical ages still operates too strongly,
because the two ages still stand too closely
together; the individual man himself now goes
through too many inward and outward develop-
ments for him to venture to arrange his own
lifetime permanently, and once and for all. An
entirely modern man, for instance, who is going


## p. 43 (#74) ##############################################

38 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
to build himself a house, has a feeling as if he
were going to immure himself alive in a mausoleum.
23-
The Age of Comparison. —The less men are
fettered by tradition, the greater becomes the
inward activity of their motives; the greater, again,
in proportion thereto, the outward restlessness, the
confused flux of mankind, the polyphony of striv-
ings. For whom is there still an absolute com-
pulsion to bind himself and his descendants to one
place? For whom is there still anything strictly
compulsory? As all styles of arts are imitated
simultaneously, so also are all grades and kinds of
morality, of customs, of cultures. Such an age
obtains its importance because in it the various
views of the world, customs, and cultures can be
compared and experienced simultaneously,—which
was formerly not possible with the always localised
sway of every culture, corresponding to the root-
ing of all artistic styles in place and time.
An increased aesthetic feeling will now at last
decide amongst so many forms presenting them-
selves for comparison; it will allow the greater
number, that is to say all those rejected by it, to
die out. In the same way a selection amongst
the forms and customs of the higher moralities is
taking place, of which the aim can be nothing
else than the downfall of the lower moralities.
It is the age of comparison! That is its pride,
but more justly also its grief. Let us not be
afraid of this grief! Rather will we comprehend


## p. 43 (#75) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 39
as adequately as possible the task our age sets us:
posterity will bless us for doing so,—a posterity
which knows itself to be as much above the
terminated original national cultures as above the
culture of comparison, but which looks back with
gratitude on both kinds of culture as upon
antiquities worthy of veneration.
24.
The Possibility of Progress. —When a
scholar of the ancient culture forswears the
company of men who believe in progress, he
does quite right. For the greatness and good-
ness of ancient culture lie behind it, and historical
education compels one to admit that they can
never be fresh again; an unbearable stupidity or
an equally insufferable fanaticism would be neces-
sary to deny this. But men can consciously resolve
to develop themselves towards a new culture;
whilst formerly they only developed unconsciously
and by chance, they can now create better con-
ditions for the rise of human beings, for their
nourishment, education and instruction; they can
administer the earth economically as a whole, and
can generally weigh and restrain the powers of
man. This new, conscious culture kills the old,
which, regarded as a whole, has led an unconscious
animal and plant life; it also kills distrust in
progress,—progress is possible. I must say that it
is over-hasty and almost nonsensical to believe
that progress must necessarily follow; but how
could one deny that it is possible? On the


## p. 43 (#76) ##############################################

40 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
other hand, progress in the sense and on the
path of the old culture is not even thinkable.
Even if romantic fantasy has also constantly used
the word "progress" to denote its aims (for in-
stance, circumscribed primitive national cultures),
it borrows the picture of it in any case from the
past; its thoughts and ideas on this subject are
entirely without originality.
25.
Private and CEcumenical Morality. —
Since the belief has ceased that a God directs in
general the fate of the world and, in spite of all
apparent crookedness in the path of humanity,
leads it on gloriously, men themselves must set
themselves oecumenical aims embracing the whole
earth. The older morality, especially that of
Kant, required from the individual actions which
were desired from all men,—that was a delight-
fully naive thing, as if each one knew off-hand
what course of action was beneficial to the whole
of humanity, and consequently which actions in
general were desirable; it is a theory like that of
free trade, taking for granted that the general
harmony must result of itself according to innate
laws of amelioration. Perhaps a future contem-
plation of the needs of humanity will show that
it is by no means desirable that all men should
act alike; in the interest of oecumenical aims it
might rather be that for whole sections of man-
kind, special, and perhaps under certain circum-
stances even evil, tasks would have to be set. In


## p. 43 (#77) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 41
any case, if mankind is not to destroy itself by
such a conscious universal rule, there must pre-
viously be found, as a scientific standard for
oecumenical aims, a knowledge of the conditions of
culture superior to what has hitherto been attained.
Herein lies the enormous task of the great minds
of the next century.
26.
Reaction as Progress. —Now and again
there appear rugged, powerful, impetuous, but
nevertheless backward-lagging minds which con-
jure up once more a past phase of mankind; they
serve to prove that the new tendencies against
which they are working are not yet sufficiently
strong, that they still lack something, otherwise
they would show better opposition to those
exorcisers. Thus, for example, Luther's Re-
formation bears witness to the fact that in his
century all the movements of the freedom of the
spirit were still uncertain, tender, and youthful;
science could not yet lift up its head. Indeed
the whole Renaissance seems like an early spring
which is almost snowed under again. But in this
century also, Schopenhauer's Metaphysics showed
that even now the scientific spirit is not yet strong
enough; thus the whole mediaeval Christian view
of the world and human feeling could celebrate
its resurrection in Schopenhauer's doctrine, in spite
of the long achieved destruction of all Christian
dogmas. There is much science in his doctrine,
but it does not dominate it: it is rather the old
well - known "metaphysical requirement" that


## p. 43 (#78) ##############################################

42 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
i
does so. It is certainly one of the greatest and
quite invaluable advantages which we gain from
Schopenhauer, that he occasionally forces our
sensations back into older, mightier modes of
contemplating the world and man, to which no
other path would so easily lead us. The gain to
history and justice is very great,—I do not think
that any one would so easily succeed now in doing
justice to Christianity and its Asiatic relations
without Schopenhauer's assistance, which is speci-
ally impossible from the basis of still existing
Christianity. Only after this great success of
justice, only after we have corrected so essential
a point as the historical mode of contemplation
which the age of enlightenment brought with it,
may we again bear onward the banner of en-
lightenment, the banner with the three names,
Petrarch, Erasmus, Voltaire. We have turned
reaction into progress.
27.
A Substitute for Religion. —It is believed
that something good is said of philosophy when
it is put forward as a substitute for religion for
the people. As a matter of fact, in the spiritual
economy there is need, at times, of an intermediary
order of thought: the transition from religion to
scientific contemplation is a violent, dangerous
leap, which is not to be recommended. To this
extent the recommendation is justifiable. But
one should eventually learn that the needs which
have been satisfied by religion and are now to
be satisfied by philosophy are not unchangeable;


## p. 43 (#79) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 43
these themselves can be weakened and eradicated.
Think, for instance, of the Christian's distress of
soul, his sighing over inward corruption, his anxiety
for salvation,—all notions which originate only in
errors of reason and deserve not satisfaction but
destruction. A philosophy can serve either to
satisfy those needs or to set them aside; for they
are acquired, temporally limited needs, which are
based upon suppositions contradictory to those
of science. Here, in order to make a transition,
art is far rather to be employed to relieve the mind
over-burdened with emotions; for those notions
receive much less support from it than from a
metaphysical philosophy. It is easier, then, to
pass over from art to a really liberating philo-
sophical science.
28.
ILL-FAMED WORDS. —Away with those weari-
somely hackneyed terms Optimism and Pessimism!
For the occasion for using them becomes less and
less from day to day; only the chatterboxes still
find them so absolutely necessary. For why in
all the world should any one wish to be an optimist
unless he had a God to defend who must have
created the best of worlds if he himself be goodness
and perfection,-—what thinker, however, still needs
the hypothesis of a God? But every occasion for
a pessimistic confession of faith is also lacking when
one has no interest in being annoyed at the advo-
cates of God (the theologians, or the theologising
philosophers), and in energetically defending the
opposite view, that evil reigns, that pain is greater


## p. 44 (#80) ##############################################

44 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
than pleasure, that the world is a bungled piece of
work, the manifestation of an ill-will to life. But
who still bothers about the theologians now—
except the theologians? Apart from all theology
and its contentions, it is quite clear that the world
is not good and not bad (to say nothing of its
being the best or the worst), and that the terms
"good" and "bad" have only significance with
respect to man, and indeed, perhaps, they are not
justified even here in the way they are usually
employed; in any case we must get rid of both
the calumniating and the glorifying conception of
the world.
29.
Intoxicated by the Scent of the
BLOSSOMS. —It is supposed that the ship of
humanity has always a deeper draught, the heavier
it is laden; it is believed that the deeper a man
thinks, the more delicately he feels, the higher he
values himself, the greater his distance from the
other animals,—the more he appears as a genius
amongst the animals,—all the nearer will he
approach the real essence of the world and its
knowledge; this he actually does too, through
science, but he means to do so still more through
his religions and arts. These certainly are
blossoms of the world, but by no means any
nearer to the root of the world than the stalk; it
is not possible to understand the nature of things
better through them, although almost every one
believes he can. Error has made man so deep,
sensitive, and inventive that he has put forth such


## p. 45 (#81) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 45
blossoms as religions and arts. Pure knowledge
could not have been capable of it. Whoever
were to unveil for us the essence of the world
would give us all the most disagreeable disillusion-
ment. Not the world as thing-in-itself, but the
world as representation (as error) is so full of
meaning, so deep, so wonderful, bearing happiness
and unhappiness in its bosom. This result leads
to a philosophy of the logical denial of the world,
which, however, can be combined with a practical
world-affirming just as well as with its opposite.
30.
Bad Habits in Reasoning. —The usual false
conclusions of mankind are these: a thing exists,
therefore it has a right to exist. Here there is
inference from the ability to live to its suitability;
from its suitability to its rightfulness. Then: an
opinion brings happiness; therefore it is the true
opinion. Its effect is good; therefore it is itself -
good and true. To the effect is here assigned
the predicate beneficent, good, in the sense of the
useful, and the cause is then furnished with the
same predicate good, but here in the sense of
the logically valid. The inversion of the sentences
would read thus: an affair cannot be carried
through, or maintained, therefore it is wrong; an
opinion causes pain or excites, therefore it is false.
The free spirit who learns only too often the
faultiness of this mode of reasoning, and has to
suffer from its consequences, frequently gives way
to the temptation to draw the very opposite
S


## p. 46 (#82) ##############################################

46 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
conclusions, which, in general, are naturally just
as false: an affair cannot be carried through,
therefore it is good; an opinion is distressing and
disturbing, therefore it is true.
31-
The Illogical Necessary. —One of those
things that may drive a thinker into despair is the
recognition of the fact that the illogical is necessary
for man, and that out of the illogical comes much
that is good. It is so firmly rooted in the passions,
in language, in art, in religion, and generally in
everything that gives value to life, that it cannot
be withdrawn without thereby hopelessly injuring
these beautiful things. It is only the all-too-na'ive
people who can believe that the nature of man
can be changed into a purely logical one; but if
there were degrees of proximity to this goal, how
many things would not have to be lost on this
course! Even the most rational man has need of
nature again from time to time, i. e. his illogical
fundamental attitude towards all things.
32.
Injustice Necessary. —All judgments on the
value of life are illogically developed, and therefore
unjust. The inexactitude of the judgment lies,
firstly, in the manner in which the material is
presented, namely very imperfectly; secondly, in
the manner in which the conclusion is formed out
of it; and thirdly, in the fact that every separate


## p. 47 (#83) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 47
element of the material is again the result of
vitiated recognition, and this, too, of necessity.
For instance, no experience of an individual,
however near he may stand to us, can be perfect,
so that we could have a logical right to make a
complete estimate of him; all estimates are rash,
and must be so. Finally, the standard by which
we measure, our nature, is not of unalterable
dimensions,—we have moods and vacillations,
and yet we should have to recognise ourselves as
a fixed standard in order to estimate correctly the
relation of any thing whatever to ourselves. From
this it will, perhaps, follow that we should make
no judgments at all; if one could only live without
making estimations, without having likes and
dislikes! For all dislike is connected with an
estimation, as well as all inclination. An impulse
towards or away from anything without a feeling
that something advantageous is desired, something
injurious avoided, an impulse without any kind of
conscious valuation of the worth of the aim does
not exist in man. We are from the beginning
illogical, and therefore unjust beings, and can
recognise this; it is one of the greatest and most
inexplicable discords of existence.
33-
Error about Life necessary for Life. —
Every belief in the value and worthiness of life is
based on vitiated thought; it is only possible
through the fact that sympathy for the general life
and suffering of mankind is very weakly developed
';. . ;:>:,±. . ■WE4/. -


## p. 48 (#84) ##############################################

48 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
■*
in the individual. Even the rarer people who
think outside themselves do not contemplate this
general life, but only a limited part of it. If one
understands how to direct one's attention chiefly
to the exceptions,—I mean to the highly gifted and
the rich souls,—if one regards the production of
these as the aim of the whole world-development
and rejoices in its operation, then one may
believe in the value of life, because one thereby
overlooks the other men—one consequently thinks
fallaciously. So too, when one directs one's
attention to all mankind, but only considers one
species of impulses in them, the less egoistical
ones, and excuses them with regard to the other
instincts, one may then again entertain hopes of
mankind in general and believe so far in the value
of life, consequently in this case also through
fallaciousness of thought. Let one, however,
behave in this or that manner: with such
behaviour one is an exception amongst men.
Now, most people bear life without any consider-
able grumbling, and consequently believe in the
value of existence, but precisely because each one is
solely self-seeking and self-affirming, and does not
step out of himself like those exceptions; every-
thing extra-personal is imperceptible to them, or
at most seems only a faint shadow. Therefore on
this alone is based the value of life for the ordinary
everyday man, that he regards himself as more
important than the world. The great lack of
imagination from which he suffers is the reason why
he cannot enter into the feelings of other beings,
and therefore sympathises as little as possible with


## p. 49 (#85) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 49
their fate and suffering. He, on the other hand,
who really could sympathise therewith, would have
to despair of the value of life; were he to succeed
in comprehending and feeling in himself the
general consciousness of mankind, he would
collapse with a curse on existence; for mankind
as a whole has no goals, consequently man, in
considering his whole course, cannot find in it his
comfort and support, but his despair. If, in all
that he does, he considers the final aimlessness of
man, his own activity assumes in his eyes the
character of wastefulness. But to feel one's self
just as much wasted as humanity (and not only
as an individual) as we see the single blossom of
nature wasted, is a feeling above all other feelings.
But who is capable of it? Assuredly only a
poet, and poets always know how to console
themselves. XL^
34-
For Tranquillity. —But does not our philo-
sophy thus become a tragedy? Does not truth
become hostile to life, to improvement? A ques-
tion seems to weigh upon our tongue and yet
hesitate to make itself heard: whether one can
consciously remain in untruthfulness? or, supposing
one were obliged to do this, would not death be
preferable? For there is no longer any "must";
morality, in so far as it had any " must" or " shalt,"
has been destroyed by our mode of contemplation,
just as religion has been destroyed. Knowledge
can only allow pleasure and pain, benefit and in-
jury to subsist as motives; but how will these
vol. i. D
J


## p. 50 (#86) ##############################################

50 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
motives agree with the sense of truth?
They also
contain errors (for, as already said, inclination and
aversion, and their very incorrect determinations,
practically regulate our pleasure and pain). The
whole of human life is deeply immersed in un-
truthfulness; the individual cannot draw it up out
of this well, without thereby taking a deep dislike to
his whole past, without finding his present motives
—those of honour, for instance—inconsistent, and
without opposing scorn and disdain to the passions
which conduce to happiness in the future. Is it
true that there remains but one sole way of think-
ing which brings after it despair as a personal
experience, as a theoretical result, a philosophy of
dissolution, disintegration, and self-destruction? I
believe that the decision with regard to the after-
effects of the knowledge will be given through the
temperament of a man; I could imagine another
after-effect, just as well as that one described, which
is possible in certain natures, by means of which a
life would arise much simpler, freer from emotions
than is the present one, so that though at first,
indeed, the old motives of passionate desire might
still have strength from old hereditary habit, they
would gradually become weaker under the influence
of purifying knowledge. One would live at last
amongst men, and with one's self as with Nature,
without praise, reproach, or agitation, feasting one's
eyes, as if it were a play, upon much of which one
was formerly afraid. One would be free from the
emphasis, and would no longer feel the goading, of
the thought that one is not only nature or more
than nature. Certainly, as already remarked, a
-


## p. 51 (#87) ##############################################

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. Si
good temperament would be necessary for this, an
even, mild, and naturally joyous soul, a disposition
which would not always need to be on its guard
against spite and sudden outbreaks, and would
not convey in its utterances anything of a grumb-
ling or sudden nature,—those well-known vexatious
qualities of old dogs and men who have been long
chained up. On the contrary, a man from whom
the ordinary fetters of life have so far fallen that
he continues to live only for the sake of ever better
knowledge must be able to renounce without envy
and regret: much, indeed almost everything that is
precious to other men, he must regard as the all-
sufficing and the most desirable condition; the free,
fearless soaring over men, customs, laws, and the
traditional valuations of things. The joy of this
condition he imparts willingly, and he has perhaps
nothing else to impart,—wherein, to be sure, there
is more privation and renunciation. If, nevertheless,
more is demanded from him, he will point with a
friendly shake of his head to his brother, the free
man of action, and will perhaps not conceal a little
derision, for as regards this " freedom" it is a very
peculiar case.


## p. 52 (#88) ##############################################



## p. 53 (#89) ##############################################

\
SECOND DIVISION.
THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL
SENTIMENTS.
35-
Advantages of Psychological Observa-
tion. —That reflection on the human, all-tooV
human—or, according to the learned expression!
psychological observation—is one of the means\
by which one may lighten the burden of life, that
exercise in this art produces presence of mind in
difficult circumstances, in the midst of tiresome
surroundings, even that from the most thorny and
unpleasant periods of one's own life one may gather
maxims and thereby feel a little better: all this
was believed, was known in former centuries. Why
was it forgotten by our century, when in Germany
at least, even in all Europe, the poverty of
psychological observation betrays itself by many
signs? Not exactly in novels, tales, and philo-
sophical treatises,—they are the work of exceptional
individuals,—rather in the judgments on public
events and personalities; but above all there is al
lack of the art of psychological analysis and sum-!
ming-up in every rank of society, in which a great'
deal is talked about men, but nothing about man.
Why do we allow the richest and most harmless


## p. 54 (#90) ##############################################

54 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
/
subject of conversation to escape us? Why are
not the great masters of psychological maxims
more read? For, without any exaggeration, the
educated man in Europe who has read La Roche-
foucauld and his kindred in mind and art, is rarely
found, and still more rare is he who knows them
and does not blame them. It is probable, how-
ever, that even this exceptional reader will find
much less pleasure in them than the form of this
artist should afford him; for even the clearest head
is not capable of rightly estimating the art of
shaping and polishing maxims unless he has really
been brought up to it and has competed in it.
Without this practical teaching one deems this
shaping and polishing to be easier than it is; one
has not a sufficient perception of fitness and charm.
For this reason the present readers of maxims find
in them a comparatively small pleasure, hardly
a mouthful of pleasantness, so that they resemble
the people who generally look at cameos, who
praise because they cannot love, and are very ready
^ to admire, but still more ready to run away.
36.
— OBJECTION. —Or should there be a counter-
reckoning to that theory that places psychological
observation amongst the means of charming, curing,
and relieving existence? Should one have suffi-
ciently convinced one's self of the unpleasant con-
sequences of this art to divert from it designedly
the attention of him who is educating himself in it?
As a matter of fact, a certain blind belief in the
V


## p. 55 (#91) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 55
goodness of human nature, an innate aversion to,
the analysis of human actions, a kind of shame-
facedness with respect to the nakedness of the soul
may really be more desirable for the general well-
being of a man than that quality, useful in iso-
lated cases, of psychological sharp-sightedness ; and
perhaps the belief in goodness, in virtuous men
and deeds, in an abundance of impersonal good-
will in the world, has made men better inasmuch
as it has made them less distrustful. When one,
imitates Plutarch's heroes with enthusiasm, and
turns with disgust from a suspicious examination
of the motives for their actions, it is not truth
which benefits thereby, but the welfare of human
society; the psychological mistake and, generally
speaking, the insensibility on this matter helps
humanity forwards, while the recognition of truth
gains more through the stimulating power of
hypothesis than La Rochefoucauld has said in his,
preface to the first edition of his "Sentences el
maximes morales'. ' . . . "Ce que le monde nomme
vertu nest d'ordinaire quun fantome forme"par nos
passions, a qui on donne un no7n honnete pour faire
impune'ment ce qu'on veut. " La Rochefoucauld and^
those other French masters of soul-examination
(who have lately been joined by a German, the
author of Psychological Observations *) resemble
good marksmen who again and again hit' the
bull's-eye; but it is the bull's-eye of human nature.
Their art arouses astonishment; but in the end a
spectator who is not led by the spirit of science,
* Dr. Paul RfSe. —J. M. K.
\°
*H\
rk
0
-,


## p. 56 (#92) ##############################################

56 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-IIUMAN.
\
but by humane intentions, will probably execrate an
art which appears to implant in the soul the sense
of the disparagement and suspicion of mankind.
^EVEI
37-
Nevertheless. —However it may be with
reckoning and counter-reckoning, in the present
condition of philosophy the awakening of moral
observation is necessary. Humanity can no
"""1 longer be spared the cruel sight of the psycho-
logical dissecting-table with its knives and forceps.
For here rules that science which inquires into
the origin and history of the so-called moral
sentiments, and which, in its progress, has to
draw up and solve complicated sociological
j problems:— the older philosophy knows the
Vlatter one not at all, and has always avoided the
examination of the origin and history of moral
Sentiments on any feeble pretext. With what
consequences it is now very easy to see, after it
has been shown by many examples how the
/ mistakes of the greatest philosophers generally
! have their starting-point in a wrong explanation
1 of certain human actions and sensations, just as
i\ on the ground of an erroneous analysis—for
instance, that of the so-called unselfish actions—
a false ethic is built up; then, to harmonise with
this again, religion and mythological confusion
are brought in to assist, and finally the shades
l^of these dismal spirits fall also over physics and
the general mode of regarding the world. If it
is certain, however, that superficiality in psycho-
:


## p. 57 (#93) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. S7
logical observation has laid, and still lays, the
most dangerous snares for human judgments and I
conclusions, then there is need now of that
endurance of work which does not grow weary
of piling stone upon stone, pebble on pebble;
there is need of courage not to be ashamed of
such humble work and to turn a deaf ear to
scorn. And this is also true,—numberless single
observations on the human and all-too-human
have first been discovered, and given utterance to,
in circles of society which were accustomed to
offer sacrifice therewith to a clever desire to please,
and not to scientific knowledge,—and the odour
of that old home of the moral maxim, a very
seductive odour, has attached itself almost in-
separably to the whole species, so that on its
account the scientific man involuntarily betrays a.
certain distrust of this species and its earnestness.
But it is sufficient to point to the consequences,
for already it begins to be seen what results of
a serious kind spring from the ground of psycho-
logical observation. What, after all, is the
principal axiom to which the boldest and coldest
thinker, the author of the book On the Origin of
Moral Sensations^ has attained by means of his
incisive and decisive analyses of human actions?
"The moral man," he says, "is no nearer to the
intelligible (metaphysical) world than is the
physical man. " This theory, hardened and
sharpened under the hammer-blow of historical
knowledge, may some time or other, perhaps in
* Dr. Paul Ree. —J. M. K.
S


## p. 58 (#94) ##############################################

Jj 58 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
^
Y'
f
some future period, serve as the axe which is
applied to the root of the "metaphysical need"
of man,—whether more as a blessing than a
curse to the general welfare it is not easy to
say, but in any case as a theory with the most
important consequences, at once fruitful and
terrible, and looking into the world with that
Janus-face which all great knowledge possesses.
\
/
38.
How FAR USEFUL. —It must remain for ever
undecided whether psychological observation is
advantageous or disadvantageous to man; but it
is certain that it is necessary, because science
cannot do without it. Science, however, has no
consideration for ultimate purposes, any more
than Nature has, but just as the latter occasion-
ally achieves things of the greatest suitableness
without intending to do so, so also true science,
as the imitator of nature in ideas, will occasion-
ally and in many ways further the usefulness
and welfare of man,—but also without intending
to do so.
ut whoever feels too chilled by the breath of
such a reflection has perhaps too little fire in him-
self; let him look around him meanwhile and he
will become aware of illnesses which have need of
ice-poultices, and of men who are so "kneaded
together" of heat and spirit that they can hardly
find an atmosphere that is cold and biting enough.
Moreover, as individuals and nations that are too
serious have need of frivolities, as others too


## p. 59 (#95) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 59
mobile and excitable have need occasionally of
heavily oppressing burdens for the sake of their
health, should not we, the more intellectual people
of this age, that grows visibly more and more
inflamed, seize all quenching and cooling means
that exist, in order that we may at least remain
as constant, harmless, and moderate as we still
are, and thus, perhaps, serve some time or other
as mirror and self-contemplation for this age?
39-
The Fable of Intelligible Freedom. —
The history of the sentiments by means of which
we make a person responsible consists of the
following principal phases. First, all single actions
are called good or bad without any regard to
their motives, but only on account of the useful
or injurious consequences which result for the
community. But soon the origin of these dis-
tinctions is forgotten, and it is deemed that the
qualities " good " or "bad" are contained in the
action itself without regard to its consequences,
by the same error according to which language
describes the stone as hard, the tree as green,—with
which, in short, the result is regarded as the cause.
Then the goodness or badness is implanted in the
motive, and the action in itself is looked upon as
morally ambiguous. Mankind even goes further,
and applies the predicate good or bad no longer
to single motives, but to the whole nature of an
individual, out of whom the motive grows as the
plant grows out of the earth. Thus, in turn, man
sY\
itt-,. . ': •
r


## p. 59 (#96) ##############################################

HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
|
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
-
is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely, necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things, that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
is motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
hopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (“consciousness
of guilt”) in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity, which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher, but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari, in
so far it is erroneous, but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the
- i--º


## p. 59 (#97) ##############################################

.
fundameira = - ------------- - - ---- - - -2.
man becºmes - tº--- - ------- - - - -
is anteriºr = ------------ - - - - - -----
conclusiºr = <==- === -- - - - - - - -
humour, the -º--- ~ Tºrº-- *-a------sº--~~~~
*ff of this I -- a -s----- ºr- z--- - -er-
-
ing from its rºstas= --------- -2. ----------
arrives at his ==- - ----------- - - - ---> --
- --- - - - -
intelligiºt free-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
deed is Tºr I-sar - ---------- ~~~~ * *
with the aever--- -
probatºr ºr-- ~ar--- ~~
short Perrºr aſ tº ºr ºr ---.
* • * • -
responside iºr ºr a----- *****
to judge is ide-ria - " - - - - -" º
- * -- " -- * º
applies vºter z -- - - -
theory is as rear = *- : - - -***
prefers :: 2: Laze = - - -- ºr
truth, fºr fear zºº tº zz--~~~


## p. 59 (#98) ##############################################

60 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.

is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
/'nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
1 the elements and influences of past and present
] things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
\ sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
i-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the


## p. 59 (#99) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 61
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
man becomes'that which he wislies to be, his will
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable admissable-
ness of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
ing from this mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
arrives at his fantastic sequence of the so-called
intelligible freedom. But the ill humour after the
deed is not necessarily reasonable, indeed it is
assuredly not reasonable, for it is based upon the
erroneous presumption that the action need not
v''
have inevitably followed. Therefore, it is onl^
because man believes himself to be free, not
because he is free, that he experiences remorse,
and pricks of conscience. Moreover, this ill
humour is a habit that can be broken off; in
many people it is entirely absent in connection
with actions where others experience it. It is a
very changeable thing, and one which is connected
with the development of customs and culture, and
probably only existing during a comparatively
short period of the world's history. Nobody is . s>
responsible for his actions, nobody for his nature ;M
to judge is identical with being unjust. This also V
applies when an individual judges himself. The
theory is as clear as sunlight, and yet every one
prefers to go back into the shadow and the un-
truth, for fear of the consequences.
40.
The Super-Animal. —The beast in us wishes
to be deceived; morality is a lie of necessity in
k-lV^'


## p. 59 (#100) #############################################

6o
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.

is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
*-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the


## p. 59 (#101) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 6|
99
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
manbecomesthat which he wishes to be, his will'
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable Wwm^Zr-
««of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
«g from fc mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
■Wat his fantastic sequence of the so-called
-f^do. But the i„ humour ^
deed i not necessarily reasonable, indeed it «
«y„otreasonable|forit. ^^'t'S
peous presumption that the aS neS t
** Stably followed. Therefore it >
because man *. /- l- reiore' rt « on >>!
* p* vi&e erence i—«
hum™ is a J? " M°re0Ver' ^ ill
verychangeablethinHL ^"enCe St II » »
rab,yo^^;t;;nd^. and
sh°rt period of the world" Vt ^P3^^
responsibleforhisacttu* NoH L
2™*»*»»i»d a^. ^t Thisa]4
*7^clearassun ih^ The
^,forfearof^co^adow and the yn.
^ necessity in
V> I
pain,
free
i, like
it is
:alled
there
gious
older
were
i for-
con-
ertain
f feet
! d of
fear.
into
tions,
pears,
f the
pro-
gods
1
ns in
m is
i nd is
f that
flues. )
Mich
stery
after-
vhich
.


## p. 59 (#102) #############################################

60 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
\r
is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
v-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being'
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the



## p. 59 (#103) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 61
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
man becomes'that which he wishes to be, his will
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable admissable-
ness of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
ing from this mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
arrives at his fantastic sequence of the so-called
intelligible freedom. But the ill humour after the
deed is not necessarily reasonable, indeed it is
assuredly not reasonable, for it is based upon the
erroneous presumption that the action need not , \ ,
have inevitably followed. Therefore, it is onlyV - ^-)AV,-'t
because man believes himself to be free, not
because he is free, that he experiences remorse/
and pricks of conscience. Moreover, this ill
humour is a habit that can be broken off; in
many people it is entirely absent in connection
with actions where others experience it. It is a
very changeable thing, and one which is connected
with the development of customs and culture, and
probably only existing during a comparatively
short period of the world's history. Nobody is |
responsible for his actions, nobody for his nature;
to judge is identical with being unjust. This also'
applies when an individual judges himself. The
theory is as clear as sunlight, and yet every one
prefers to go back into the shadow and the un-
truth, for fear of the consequences.
40.
The Super-Animal. —The beast in us wishes
to be deceived; morality is a lie of necessity in
i


## p. 60 (#104) #############################################

60 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
\r
is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
v-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to' actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the


## p. 61 (#105) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 6l
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
man becomes'"that which he wisfies to be, his will
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable admissable-
ness of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
ing from this mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
arrives at his fantastic sequence of the so-called
intelligible freedom. But the ill humour after the
deed is not necessarily reasonable, indeed it is
assuredly not reasonable, for it is based upon the
erroneous presumption that the action need not , f k
have inevitably followed. Therefore, it is onlyl , - '^- j\V
because man believes himself to be free, not
because he is free, that he experiences remorse/
and pricks of conscience. Moreover, this ill
humour is a habit that can be broken off; in
many people it is entirely absent in connection
with actions where others experience it. It is a
very changeable thing, and one which is connected
with the development of customs and culture, and
probably only existing during a comparatively
short period of the world's history. Nobody is /~\
responsible for his actions, nobody for his nature ;iyi)
to judge is identical with being unjust. This also Ay
applies when an individual judges himself. The
theory is as clear as sunlight, and yet every one
prefers to go back into the shadow and the un-
truth, for fear of the consequences.
40.
The Super-Animal. —The beast in us wishes
to be deceived; morality is a lie of necessity in


## p. 62 (#106) #############################################

62 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
£der that we may not be torn in pieces by it.
Without the errors which lie in the assumption of
orality, man would have remained an animal.
Thus, however, he has considered himself as
something higher and has laid strict laws upon
himself. Therefore he hates the grades which
have remained nearer to animalness, whereby the
former scorn of the slave, as a not-yet-man, is to
be explained as a fact.
41.
The Unchangeable Character. —That the
Character is unchangeable is not true in a strict
ense; this favourite theory means, rather, that
during the short lifetime of an individual the new
influencing motives cannot penetrate deeply enough
to destroy the ingrained marks of many thousands
of years. But if one were to imagine a man of
eighty thousand years, one would have in him an
absolutely changeable character, so that a number
of different individuals would gradually develop
out of him. The shortness of human life misleads
us into forming many erroneous ideas about the
qualities of man.