No More Learning

The Day's First Thought. —The best way
to begin a day well is to think, on awakening,
whether we cannot give pleasure during the day
to at least one person. If this could become a
substitute for the religious habit of prayer our
fellow-men would benefit by the change.
590.
Presumption as the Last Consolation. —
When we so interpret a misfortune, an intellectual
defect, or a disease that we see therein our pre-
destined fate, our trial, or the mysterious punish-
ment of our former misdeeds, we thereby make
our nature interesting and exalt ourselves in im-
agination above our fellows. The proud sinner
is a well-known figure in all religious sects.
591.
The Vegetation of Happiness. —Close be-
side the world's woe, and often upon its volcanic
soil, man has laid out his little garden of happiness.
Whether one regard life with the eyes of him
who only seeks knowledge therefrom, or of him
who submits and is resigned, or of him who re-


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378 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
joices over surmounted difficulties—everywhere
one will find some happiness springing up beside
the evil—and in fact always the more happiness
the more volcanic the soil has been,—only it
would be absurd to say that suffering itself is
justified by this happiness.
592-
The Path of our Ancestors. —It is sensible
when a person develops still further in himself
the talent upon which his father or grandfather
spent much trouble, and does not shift to some-
thing entirely new; otherwise he deprives himself
of the possibility of attaining perfection in any
one craft. That is why the proverb says,
"Which road shouldst thou ride ? —That of thine
ancestors. "
593-
Vanity and Ambition as Educators. —As
long as a person has not become an instrument
of general utility, ambition may torment him; if,
however, that point has been reached, if he
necessarily works like a machine for the good of
all, then vanity may result; it will humanise him
in small matters and make him more sociable,
endurable, and considerate, when ambition has
completed the coarser work of making him
useful.
594-
Philosophical Novices. — Immediately we
have comprehended the wisdom of a philosopher,
we go through the streets with a feeling as if we


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MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 379
had been re-created and had become great men;
for we encounter only those who are ignorant of
this wisdom, and have therefore to deliver new and
unknown verdicts concerning everything. Because
we now recognise a law-book we think we must
also comport ourselves as judges.
595-
Pleasing by Displeasing. —People who pre-
fer to attract attention, and thereby to displease,
desire the same thing as those who neither wish
to please nor to attract attention, only they seek
it more ardently and indirectly by means of a
step by which they apparently move away from
their goal. They desire influence and power, and
therefore show their superiority, even to such an
extent that it becomes disagreeable; for they
know that he who has finally attained power
pleases in almost all he says and does, and that
even when he displeases he still seems to please.
The free spirit also, and in like manner the
believer, desire power, in order some day to please
thereby; when, on account of their doctrine, evil
fate, persecution, dungeon, or execution threaten
them, they rejoice in the thought that their
teaching will thus be engraved and branded on
the heart of mankind; though its effect is remote
they accept their fate as a painful but powerful
means of still attaining to power.
596.
Casus Belli and the Like. —The prince
who, for his determination to make war against


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380 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
his neighbour, invents a casus belli, is like a father
who foists on his child a mother who is hence-
forth to be regarded as such. And are not almost
all publicly avowed motives of action just such
spurious mothers?
597-
Passion and Right. —Nobody talks more
passionately of his rights than he who, in the
depths of his soul, is doubtful about them. By
getting passion on his side he seeks to confound
his understanding and its doubts,—he thus obtains
a good conscience, and along with it success with
his fellow-men.
598.
The Trick of the Resigning One. —He
who protests against marriage, after the manner
of Catholic priests, will conceive of it in its lowest
and vulgarest form. In the same way he who
disavows the honour of his contemporaries will
have a mean opinion of it; he can thus dispense
with it and struggle against it more easily. More-
over, he who denies himself much in great matters
will readily indulge himself in small things. It
might be possible that he who is superior to the
approbation of his contemporaries would never-
theless not deny himself the gratification of small
vanities.
599-
The Years of Presumption. —The proper
period of presumption in gifted people is between
their twenty-sixth and thirtieth years; it is the
time of early ripeness, with a large residue of


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MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 381
sourness. On the ground of what we feel within
ourselves we demand honour and humility from
men who see little or nothing of it, and because
this tribute is not immediately forthcoming we
revenge ourselves by the look, the gesture of
arrogance, and the tone of voice, which a keen ear
and eye recognise in every product of those years,
whether it be poetry, philosophy, or pictures and
music. Older men of experience smile thereat,
and think with emotion of those beautiful years
in which one resents the fate of being so much
and seeming so little. Later on one really seems
more,—but one has lost the good belief in being
much,—unless one remain for life an incorrigible
fool of vanity.
600.
Deceptive and yet Defensible. —Just as
in order to pass by an abyss or to cross a deep
stream on a plank we require a railing, not to
hold fast by,—for it would instantly break down
with us,—but to give the notion of security to
the eye, so in youth we require persons who
unconsciously render us the service of that
railing. It is true they would not help us if
we really wished to lean upon them in great
danger, but they afford the tranquillising sensation
of protection close to one (for instance, fathers,
teachers, friends, as all three usually are).
601.
Learning to Love. —One must learn to
love, one must learn to be kind, and this from


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382 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
childhood onwards; when education and chance
give us no opportunity for the exercise of these
feelings our soul becomes dried up, and even in-
capable of understanding the fine devices of
loving men. In the same way hatred must be
learnt and fostered, when one wants to become
a proficient hater,—otherwise the germ of it will
gradually die out.
602.
Ruin as Ornament. —Persons who pass
through numerous mental phases retain certain
sentiments and habits of their earlier states, which
then project like a piece of inexplicable antiquity
and grey stonework into their new thought and
action, often to the embellishment of the whole
surroundings.
603.
Love and Honour. —Love desires, fear
avoids. That is why one cannot be both loved
and honoured by the same person, at least not
at the same time. * For he who honours recog-
nises power,—that is to say, he fears it, he is in
a state of reverential fear (Ehr-furchf). But love
recognises no power, nothing that divides, detaches,
superordinates, or subordinates. Because it does
not honour them, ambitious people secretly or
openly resent being loved.
* Women never understand this. —J. M. K.


## p. 383 (#567) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 383
604.
A Prejudice in Favour of Cold Natures.
—People who quickly take fire grow cold quickly,
and therefore are, on the whole, unreliable. For
those, therefore, who are always cold, or pretend
to be so, there is the favourable prejudice that
they are particularly trustworthy, reliable persons;
they are confounded with those who take fire
slowly and retain it long.
605.
The Danger in Free Opinions. —Frivolous
occupation with free opinions has a charm, like
a kind of itching; if one yields to it further,
one begins to chafe the places; until at last an
open, painful wound results; that is to say,
until the free opinion begins to disturb and
torment us in our position in life and in our
human relations.
606.
Desire for Sore Affliction. —When
passion is over it leaves behind an obscure long-
ing for it, and even in disappearing it casts a
seductive glance at us. It must have afforded
a kind of pleasure to have been beaten with this
scourge. Compared with it, the more moderate
sensations appear insipid; we still prefer, ap-
parently, the more violent displeasure to languid
delight.


## p. 384 (#568) ############################################

384 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
607.
Dissatisfaction with Others and with
THE WORLD. —When, as so frequently happens,
we vent our dissatisfaction on others when we
are really dissatisfied with ourselves, we are in
fact attempting to mystify and deceive our
judgment; we desire to find a motive a posteriori
for this dissatisfaction, in the mistakes or de-
ficiencies of others, and so lose sight of ourselves.
Strictly religious people, who have been relentless
judges of themselves, have at the same time
spoken most ill of humanity generally; there has
never been a saint who reserved sin for himself
and virture for others, any more than a man
I who, according to Buddha's rule, hides his good
qualities from people and only shows his bad ones.
608.
Confusion of Cause and Effect. —Un-
consciously we seek the principles and opinions
which are suited to our temperament, so that
at last it seems as if these principles and opinions
had formed our character and given it support
and stability, whereas exactly the contrary has
taken place. Our thoughts and judgments are,
apparently, to be taken subsequently as the
causes of our nature, but as a matter of fact our
nature is the cause of our so thinking and judging.
And what induces us to play this almost un-
conscious comedy? Inertness and convenience,
and to a large extent also the vain desire to be
regarded as thoroughly consistent and homo-


## p. 385 (#569) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 385
geneous in nature and thought; for this wins
respect and gives confidence and power.
609.
Age in Relation to Truth. —Young people
love what is interesting and exceptional, indifferent
whether it is truth or falsehood. Riper minds
love what is interesting and extraordinary when
it is truth. Matured minds, finally, love truth
even in those in whom it appears plain and
simple and is found tiresome by ordinary people,
because they have observed that truth is in the
habit of giving utterance to its highest intellectual
verities with all the appearance of simplicity.
610.
Men as Bad Poets. —Just as bad poets seek
a thought to fit the rhyme in the second half
of the verse, so men in the second half of life,
having become more scrupulous, are in the habit
of seeking pursuits, positions, and conditions which
suit those of their earlier life, so that outwardly
all sounds well, but their life is no longer ruled
and continuously determined anew by a powerful
thought: in place thereof there is merely the
intention of finding a rhyme.
611.
Ennui and Play. —Necessity compels us to
work, with the product of which the necessity is
appeased; the ever new awakening of necessity
vol. 1. 2B


## p. 386 (#570) ############################################

386 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
however, accustoms us to work. But in the
intervals in which necessity is appeased and
asleep, as it were, we are attacked by ennui.
What is this? In a word it is the habituation
to work, which now makes itself felt as a new
and additional necessity; it will be all the
stronger the more a person has been accustomed
to work, perhaps, even, the more a person has
suffered from necessities. In order to escape
ennui, a man either works beyond the extent
of his former necessities, or he invents play, that
is to say, work that is only intended to appease
the general necessity for work. He who has
become satiated with play, and has no new
necessities impelling him to work, is sometimes
attacked by the longing for a third state, which
is related to play as gliding is to dancing, as
dancing is to walking, a blessed, tranquil move-
ment; it is the artists' and philosophers' vision
of happiness.
612.
Lessons from Pictures. —If we look at a
series of pictures of ourselves, from the time of
later childhood to the time of mature man-
hood, we discover with pleased surprise that the
man bears more resemblance to the child than
to the youth: that probably, therefore, in accord-
ance with this fact, there has been in the interval a
temporary alienation of the fundamental character",
over which the collected, concentrated force of the
man has again become master. With this observa-
tion this other is also in accordance, namely, that


## p. 387 (#571) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 387
all strong influences of passions, teachers, and
political events, which in our youthful years draw
us hither and thither, seem later on to be referred
back again to a fixed standard; of course they
still continue to exist and operate within us, but
our fundamental sentiments and opinions have now
the upper hand, and use their influence perhaps as
a source of strength, but are no longer merely
regulative, as was perhaps the case in our twenties.
Thus even the thoughts and sentiments of the
man appear more in accordance with those of his
childish years,—and this objective fact expresses
itself in the above-mentioned subjective fact.
613.
The Tone of Voice of Different Ages. —
The tone in which youths speak, praise, blame,
and versify, displeases an older person because it
is too loud, and yet at the same time dull and
confused like a sound in a vault, which acquires
such a loud ring owing to the emptiness; for
most of the thought of youths does not gush forth
out of the fulness of their own nature, but is the
accord and the echo of what has been thought,
said, praised or blamed around them. As their
sentiments, however (their inclinations and aver-
sions), resound much more forcibly than the
reasons thereof, there is heard, whenever they
divulge these sentiments, the dull, clanging tone
which is a sign of the absence or scarcity of
reasons. The tone of riper age is rigorous,
abruptly concise, moderately loud, but, like every-


## p. 388 (#572) ############################################

388 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
thing distinctly articulated, is heard very far off.
Old age, finally, often brings a certain mildness
and consideration into the tone of the voice, and,
as it were, sweetens it; in many cases, to be sure,
it also sours it.
614
The Atavist and the Forerunner. —The
man of unpleasant character, full of distrust,
envious of the success of fellow-competitors and
neighbours, violent and enraged at divergent
opinions, shows that he belongs to an earlier grade
of culture, and is, therefore, an atavism; for the
way in which he behaves to people was right and
suitable only for an age of club-law; he is an
atavist. The man of a different character, rich in
sympathy, winning friends everywhere, finding all
that is growing and becoming amiable, rejoicing
at the honours and successes of others and
claiming no privilege of solely knowing the truth,
but full of a modest distrust,—he is a forerunner
who presses upward towards a higher human
culture. The man of unpleasant character dates
from the times when the rude basis of human
intercourse had yet to be laid, the other lives on
the upper floor of the edifice of culture, removed
as far as possible from the howling and raging
wild beast imprisoned in the cellars.
615.
Consolation for Hypochondriacs. —When
a great thinker is temporarily subjected to hypo-
chondriacal self-torture he can say to himself, by


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MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 389
way of consolation: "It is thine own great
strength on which this parasite feeds and grows;
if thy strength were smaller thou wouldst have
less to suffer. " The statesman may say just the
same thing when jealousy and vengeful feeling, or,
in a word, the tone of the bellum omnium contra
omnes, for which, as the representative of a nation,
he must necessarily have a great capacity, occa-
sionally intrudes into his personal relations and
makes his life hard.
616.
Estranged from the Present. —There are
great advantages in estranging one's self for once
to a large extent from one's age, and being as it
were driven back from its shores into the ocean
of past views of things. Looking thence towards
the coast one commands a view, perhaps for the
first time, of its aggregate formation, and when one
again approaches the land one has the advantage
of understanding it better, on the whole, than those
who have never left it.
617.
Sowing and Reaping on the field of Per- $3/
SONAL Defects. —Men like Rousseau understand
how to use their weaknesses, defects, and vices as
manure for their talent. When Rousseau bewails
the corruption and degeneration of society as the
evil results of culture, there is a personal experience
at the bottom of it, the bitterness which gives
sharpness to his general condemnation and poisons


## p. 390 (#574) ############################################

390 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
the arrows with which he shoots; he unburdens
himself first as an individual, and thinks of getting
a remedy which, while benefiting society directly,
will also benefit himself indirectly by means of
society.
618.
Philosophically Minded. —We usually en-
deavour to acquire one attitude of mind, one set
of opinions for all situations and events of life—
it is mostly called being philosophically minded.
But for the acquisition of knowledge it may be of
greater importance not to make ourselves thus
uniform, but to hearken to the low voice of the
different situations in life; these bring their own
opinions with them. We thus take an intelligent
interest in the life and nature of many persons by
not treating ourselves as rigid, persistent single
individuals.
619.
In the Fire of Contempt. —It is a fresh
step towards independence when one first dares
to give utterance to opinions which it is considered
as disgraceful for a person to entertain; even
friends and acquaintances are then accustomed to
grow anxious. The gifted nature must also pass
through this fire; it afterwards belongs far more
to itself.
620.
Self-sacrifice. —In the event of choice, a
great sacrifice is preferred to a small one, because
we compensate ourselves for the great sacrifice by


## p. 391 (#575) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 39I
self-admiration, which is not possible in the case
of a small one.
621.
LOVE AS AN ARTIFICE. —Whoever really wishes
to become acquainted with something new (whether
it be a person, an event, or a book), does well to
take up the matter with all possible love, and to
avert his eye quickly from all that seems hostile,
objectionable, and false therein,—in fact to forget
such things; so that, for instance, he gives the
author of a book the best sta/t possible, and
straightway, just as in a race, longs with beating
heart that he may reach the goal. In this manner
one penetrates to the heart of the new thing, to its
moving point, and this is called becoming ac-
quainted with it. This stage having been arrived
at, the understanding afterwards makes its restric-
tions; the over-estimation and the temporary
suspension of the critical pendulum were only
artifices to lure forth the soul of the matter.
622.
Thinking Too Well and Too III of the
WORLD. —Whether we think too well or too ill of
things, we always have the advantage of deriving
therefrom a greater pleasure, for with a too good
preconception we usually put more sweetness into
things (experiences) than they actually contain. A
too bad preconception causes a pleasant disap-
pointment, the pleasantness that lay in the things
themselves is increased by the pleasantness of the


## p. 392 (#576) ############################################

392 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
surprise. A gloomy temperament, however, will
have the reverse experience in both cases.
623.
Profound People. —Those whose strength lies
in the deepening of impressions—they are usually
called profound people—are relatively self-pos-
sessed and decided in all sudden emergencies, for
in the first moment the impression is still shallow,
it only then becomes deep. Long foreseen, long
expected events or persons, however, excite such
natures most, and make them almost incapable of
eventually having presence of mind on the arrival
thereof.
624.
Intercourse with the Higher Self. —
Every one has his good day, when he finds his
higher self; and true humanity demands that a
person shall be estimated according to this state
and not according to his work-days of constraint
and bondage. A painter, for instance, should be
appraised and honoured according to the most
exalted vision he could see and represent. But
men themselves commune very differently with
this their higher self, and are frequently their own
playactors, in so far as they repeatedly imitate
what they are in those moments. Some stand in
awe and humility before their ideal, and would
fain deny it; they are afraid of their higher self
because, when it speaks, it speaks pretentiously.
Besides, it has a ghost-like freedom of coming and
staying away just as it pleases; on that account it


## p. 393 (#577) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 393
is often called a gift of the gods, while in fact
everything else is a gift of the gods (of chance);
this, however, is the man himself.
625.
Lonely People. —Some people are so much
accustomed to being alone in self-communion that
they do not at all compare themselves with others,
but spin out their soliloquising life in a quiet,
happy mood, conversing pleasantly, and even
hilariously, with themselves. If, however, they
are brought to the point of comparing them-
selves with others, they are inclined to a brooding
under-estimation of their own worth, so that they
have first to be compelled by others to form once
more a good and just opinion of themselves, and
even from this acquired opinion they will always
want to subtract and abate something.
We must
not, therefore, grudge certain persons their loneli-
ness or foolishly commiserate them on that account,
as is so often done.
626.
Without Melody. —There are persons to
whom a constant repose in themselves and the
harmonious ordering of all their capacities is so
natural that every definite activity is repugnant to
them. They resemble music which consists of
nothing but prolonged, harmonious accords, without
even the tendency to an organised and animated
melody showing itself. All external movement
serves only to restore to the boat its equilibrium


## p. 394 (#578) ############################################

394 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
on the sea of harmonious euphony. Modern men
usually become excessively impatient when they
meet such natures, who will never be anything in the
world, only it is not allowable to say of them that
they are nothing. But in certain moods the sight
of them raises the unusual question: "Why should
there be melody at all? Why should it not
suffice us when life mirrors itself peacefully in a
deep lake? " The Middle Ages were richer in
such natures than our times. How seldom one
now meets with any one who can live on so peace-
fully and happily with himself even in the midst
of the crowd, saying to himself, like Goethe, " The
best thing of all is the deep calm in which I live
and grow in opposition to the world, and gain
what it cannot take away from me with fire and
sword. "
627.
To Live and Experience. —If we observe
how some people can deal with their experiences
—their unimportant, everyday experiences—so
that these become soil which yields fruit thrice
a year; whilst others—and how many ! —are
driven through the surf of the most exciting
adventures, the most diversified movements of
times and peoples, and yet always remain light,
always remain on the surface, like cork; we are
finally tempted to divide mankind into a minority
(minimality) of those who know how to make
much out of little, and a majority of those who
know how to make little out of much; indeed, we
even meet with the counter-sorcerers who, instead


## p. 395 (#579) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 395
of making the world out of nothing, make a
nothing out of the world.
628.
Seriousness in Play. —In Genoa one evening,
in the twilight, I heard from a tower a long
chiming of bells; it was never like to end, and
sounded as if insatiable above the noise of the
streets, out into the evening sky and sea-air, so
thrilling, and at the same time so childish and so
sad. I then remembered the words of Plato, and
suddenly felt the force of them in my heart:
"Human matters, one and all, are not worthy of
great seriousness; nevertheless . . . "
629.
Conviction and Justice. —The requirement
that a person must afterwards, when cool and
sober, stand by what he says, promises, and resolves
during passion, is one of the heaviest burdens that
weigh upon mankind. To have to acknowledge
for all future time the consequences of anger, of
fiery revenge, of enthusiastic devotion, may lead to
a bitterness against these feelings proportionate
to the idolatry with which they are idolised,
especially by artists. These cultivate to its
full extent the esteem of the passions, and have
always done so; to be sure, they also glorify the
terrible satisfaction of the passions which a person
affords himself, the outbreaks of vengeance, with
death, mutilation, or voluntary banishment in their
train, and the resignation of the broken heart.


## p. 396 (#580) ############################################

396 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
In any case they keep alive curiosity about the
passions; it is as if they said: "Without passions
you have no experience whatever. " Because we
have sworn fidelity (perhaps even to a purely
fictitious being, such as a god), because we have
surrendered our heart to a prince, a party, a
woman, a priestly order, an artist, or a thinker, in
a state of infatuated delusion that threw a charm
over us and made those beings appear worthy of
all veneration, and every sacrifice—are we, there-
fore, firmly and inevitably bound? Or did we
not, after all, deceive ourselves then? Was there
not a hypothetical promise, under the tacit pre-
supposition that those beings to whom we conse-
crated ourselves were really the beings they
seemed to be in our imagination? Are we under
obligation to be faithful to our errors, even with
the knowledge that by this fidelity we shall cause
injury to our higher selves? No, there is no law,
no obligation of that sort; we must become traitors,
we must act unfaithfully and abandon our ideals
again and again. We cannot advance from one
period of life into another without causing these
pains of treachery and also suffering from them.
Might it be necessary to guard against the ebulli-
tions of our feelings in order to escape these pains?
Would not the world then become too arid, too
ghost-like for us? Rather will we ask ourselves
whether these pains are necessary on a change of
convictions, or whether they do not depend on
a mistaken opinion and estimate* Why do we
admire a person who remains true to his convic-
tions and despise him who changes them? I fear


## p. 397 (#581) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 397
the answer must be, "because every one takes for
granted that such a change is caused only by
motives of more general utility or of personal
trouble. " That is to say, we believe at bottom
that nobody alters his opinions as long as they are
advantageous to him, or at least as long as they
do not cause him any harm. If it is so, however,
it furnishes a bad proof of the intellectual signifi-
cance of all convictions. Let us once examine
how convictions arise, and let us see whether their
importance is not greatly over-estimated; it will
thereby be seen that the change of convictions also
is in all circumstances judged according to a false
standard, that we have hitherto been accustomed
to suffer too much from this change.
630.
Conviction is belief in the possession of abso-
lute truth on any matter of knowledge. This belief
takes it for granted, therefore, that there are
absolute truths; also, that perfect methods have
been found for attaining to them; and finally, that
every one who has convictions makes use of these
perfect methods. All three notions show at once
that the man of convictions is not the man of
scientific thought; he seems to us still in the
age of theoretical innocence, and is practically a
child, however grown-up he may be. Whole
centuries, however, have been lived under the
influence of those childlike presuppositions, and
out of them have flowed the mightiest sources
of human strength The countless numbers who


## p. 398 (#582) ############################################

398 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
sacrificed themselves for their convictions believed
they were doing it for the sake of absolute truth.
They were all wrong, however; probably no one
has ever sacrificed himself for Truth; at least, the
dogmatic expression of the faith of any such person
has been unscientific or only partly scientific. But
really, people wanted to carry their point because
they believed that they must be in the right. To
allow their belief to be wrested from them prob-
ably meant calling in question their eternal salva-
tion. In an affair of such extreme importance
the "will" was too audibly the prompter of the
intellect. The presupposition of every believer
of every shade of belief has been that he could not
be confuted. ; if the counter-arguments happened
to be very strong, it always remained for him to
decry intellect generally, and, perhaps, even to set
up the "credo quia absurdum est" as the standard
of extreme fanaticism. It is not the struggle of
opinions that has made history so turbulent; but
the struggle of belief in opinions,—that is to say, of
convictions. If all those who thought so highly
of their convictions, who made sacrifices of all
kinds for them, and spared neither honour, body,
nor life in their service, had only devoted half of
their energy to examining their right to adhere to
this or that conviction and by what road they
arrived at it, how peaceable would the history of
mankind now appear! How much more know-
ledge would there be! All the cruel scenes in
connection with the persecution of heretics of all
kinds would have been avoided, for two reasons:
firstly, because the inquisitors would above'all have


## p. 399 (#583) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 399
inquired of themselves, and would have recognised
the presumption of defending absolute truth; and
secondly, because the heretics themselves would,
after examination, have taken no more interest in
such badly established doctrines as those of all
religious sectarians and "orthodox" believers.
631.
From the ages in which it was customary to
believe in the possession of absolute truth, people
have inherited a profound dislike of all sceptical
and relative attitudes with regard to questions of
knowledge; they mostly prefer to acquiesce, for
good or evil, in the convictions of those in
authority (fathers, friends, teachers, princes), and
they have a kind of remorse of conscience when
they do not do so. This tendency is quite com-
prehensible, and its results furnish no ground for
condemnation of the course of the development
of human reason. The scientific spirit in man,
however, has gradually to bring to maturity the
virtue of cautious forbearance, the wise modera-
tion, which is better known in practical than in
theoretical life, and which, for instance, Goethe
has represented in "Antonio," as an object of
provocation for all Tassos,—that is to say, for
unscientific and at the same time inactive natures.
The man of convictions has in himself the right
not to comprehend the man of cautious thought,
the theoretical Antonio; the scientific man, on the
other hand, has no right to blame the former on
that account, he takes no notice thereof, and


## p. 400 (#584) ############################################

400 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
knows, moreover, that in certain cases the former
will yet cling to him, as Tasso finally clung to
Antonio.
632.
He who has not passed through different
phases of conviction, but sticks to the faith in
whose net he was first caught, is, under all circum-
stances, just on account of this unchangeableness,
a representative of atavistic culture; in accordance
with this lack of culture (which always pre- ,
supposes plasticity for culture), he is severe, un-
intelligent, unteachable, without liberality, an ever
suspicious person, an unscrupulous person who
has recourse to all expedients for enforcing his
opinions because he cannot conceive that there
must be other opinions; he is, in such respects,
perhaps a source of strength, and even wholesome
in cultures that have become too emancipated and
languid, but only because he strongly incites to
opposition: for thereby the delicate organisation
of the new culture, which is forced to struggle
with him, becomes strong itself.
633.
In essential respects we are still the same men
as those of the time of the Reformation; how
could it be otherwise? But the fact that we
no longer allow ourselves certain means for pro-
moting the triumph of our opinions distinguishes
us from that age, and proves that we belong to
a higher culture. He who still combats and
overthrows opinions with calumnies and outbursts


## p. 401 (#585) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 4OI
of rage, after the manner of the Reformation men,
obviously betrays the fact that he would have
burnt his adversaries had he lived in other times,
and that he would have resorted to all the
methods of the Inquisition if he had been an
opponent of the Reformation. The Inquisition
was rational at that time; for it represented
nothing else than the universal application of
martial law, which had to be proclaimed through-
out the entire domain of the Church, and which,
like all martial law, gave a right to the extremest
methods, under the presupposition, of course,
(which we now no longer share with those people),
that the Church possessed truth and had to preserve
it at all costs, and at any sacrifice, for the salvation
of mankind. Now, however, one does not so
readily concede to any one that he possesses the
truth; strict methods of investigation have diffused
enough of distrust and precaution, so that every
one who violently advocates opinions in word and
deed is looked upon as an enemy of our modern
culture, or, at least, as an atavist. As a matter
of fact the pathos that man possesses truth is
now of very little consequence in comparison with
the certainly milder and less noisy pathos of the
search for truth, which is never weary of learning
afresh and examining anew.
634-
Moreover, the methodical search for truth is
itself the outcome of those ages in which con-
victions were at war with each other. If the
vol. 1. 2C


## p. 402 (#586) ############################################

402 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
individual had not cared about his "truth," that
is to say, about carrying his point, there would
have been no method of investigation; thus,
however, by the eternal struggle of the claims of
different individuals to absolute truth, people went
on step by step to find irrefragable principles
according to which the rights of the claims could
be tested and the dispute settled. At first people
decided according to authorities; later on they
criticised one another's ways and means of finding
the presumed truth; in the interval there was a
period when people deduced the consequences of'
the adverse theory, and perhaps found them to be
productive of injury and unhappiness; from which
it was then to be inferred by every one that the
conviction of the adversary involved an error.
The personal struggle of the thinker at last so
sharpened his methods that real truths could be
discovered, and the mistakes of former methods
exposed before the eyes of all.
635.
On the whole, scientific methods are at least
as important results of investigation as any other
results, for the scientific spirit is based upon a
knowledge of method, and if the methods were
lost, all the results of science could not prevent
the renewed prevalence of superstition and
absurdity. Clever people may learn as much as
they like of the results of science, but one still
notices in their conversation, and especially in
the hypotheses they make, that they lack the


## p. 403 (#587) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 403
scientific spirit; they have not the instinctive
distrust of the devious courses of thinking which,
in consequence of long training, has taken root
in the soul of every scientific man. It is enough
for them to find any kind of hypothesis on a
subject, they are then all on fire for it, and
imagine the matter is thereby settled. To have
an opinion is with them equivalent to immedi-
ately becoming fanatical for it, and finally taking
it to heart as a conviction. In the case of
an unexplained matter they become heated for
the first idea that comes into their head which
has any resemblance to an explanation—a course
from which the worst results constantly follow,
especially in the field of politics. On that ac-
count everybody should nowadays have become
thoroughly acquainted with at least one science,
for then surely he knows what is meant by
method, and how necessary is the extremest
carefulness. To women in particular this advice
is to be given at present; as to those who are
irretrievably the victims of all hypotheses, especi-
ally when these have the appearance of being
witty, attractive, enlivening, and invigorating.
Indeed, on close inspection one sees that by far
the greater number of educated people still desire
convictions from a thinker and nothing but con-
victions, and that only a small minority want
certainty. The former want to be forcibly carried
away in order thereby to obtain an increase of
strength; the latter few have the real interest
which disregards personal advantages and the
increase of strength also. The former class, who


## p. 403 (#588) ############################################

390 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
the arrows with which he shoots; he unburdens
himself first as an individual, and thinks of getting
a remedy which, while benefiting society directly,
will also benefit himself indirectly by means of
society.
618.
Philosophically Minded. —We usually en-
deavour to acquire one attitude of mind, one set
of opinions for all situations and events of life—
it is mostly called being philosophically minded.
But for the acquisition of knowledge it may be of
greater importance not to make ourselves thus
uniform, but to hearken to the low voice of the
different situations in life; these bring their own
opinions with them. We thus take an intelligent
interest in the life and nature of many persons by
not treating ourselves as rigid, persistent single
individuals.
619.
In the Fire of Contempt. —It is a fresh
step towards independence when one first dares
to give utterance to opinions which it is considered
as disgraceful for a person to entertain; even
friends and acquaintances are then accustomed to
grow anxious. The gifted nature must also pass
through this fire; it afterwards belongs far more
to itself.
620.
Self-sacrifice. —In the event of choice, a
great sacrifice is preferred to a small one, because
we compensate ourselves for the great sacrifice by
1


## p. 403 (#589) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 391
self-admiration, which is not possible in the case
of a small one.
621.
LOVE as an Artifice. —Whoever really wishes
to become acquainted with something new (whether
it be a person, an event, or a book), does well to
take up the matter with all possible love, and to
avert his eye quickly from all that seems hostile,
objectionable, and false therein,—in fact to forget
such things; so that, for instance, he gives the
author of a book the best sta/t possible, and
straightway, just as in a race, longs with beating
heart that he may reach the goal. In this manner
one penetrates to the heart of the new thing, to its
moving point, and this is called becoming ac-
quainted with it. This stage having been arrived
at, the understanding afterwards makes its restric-
tions; the over-estimation and the temporary
suspension of the critical pendulum were only
artifices to lure forth the soul of the matter.
622.
Thinking Too Well and Too III of the
WORLD. —Whether we think too well or too ill of
things, we always have the advantage of deriving
therefrom a greater pleasure, for with a too good
preconception we usually put more sweetness into
things (experiences) than they actually contain. A
too bad preconception causes a pleasant disap-
pointment, the pleasantness that lay in the things
themselves is increased by the pleasantness of the


## p. 403 (#590) ############################################

392 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
surprise. A gloomy temperament, however, will
have the reverse experience in both cases.
623.
Profound People. —Those whose strength lies
in the deepening of impressions—they are usually
called profound people—are relatively self-pos-
sessed and decided in all sudden emergencies, for
in the first moment the impression is still shallow,
it only then becomes deep. Long foreseen, long
expected events or persons, however, excite such
natures most, and make them almost incapable of
eventually having presence of mind on the arrival
thereof.
624.
Intercourse with the Higher Self. —
Every one has his good day, when he finds his
higher self; and true humanity demands that a
person shall be estimated according to this state
and not according to his work-days of constraint
and bondage. A painter, for instance, should be
appraised and honoured according to the most
exalted vision he could see and represent. But
men themselves commune very differently with
this their higher self, and are frequently their own
playactors, in so far as they repeatedly imitate
what they are in those moments. Some stand in
awe and humility before their ideal, and would
fain deny it; they are afraid of their higher self
because, when it speaks, it speaks pretentiously.
Besides, it has a ghost-like freedom of coming and
staying away just as it pleases; on that account it


## p. 403 (#591) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 393
is often called a gift of the gods, while in fact
everything else is a gift of the gods (of chance);
this, however, is the man himself.
625.
Lonely People. —Some people are so much
accustomed to being alone in self-communion that
they do not at all compare themselves with others,
but spin out their soliloquising life in a quiet,
happy mood, conversing pleasantly, and even
hilariously, with themselves. If, however, they
are brought to the point of comparing them-
selves with others, they are inclined to a brooding
under-estimation of their own worth, so that they
have first to be compelled by others to form once
more a good and just opinion of themselves, and
even from this acquired opinion they will always
want to subtract and abate something. We must
not, therefore, grudge certain persons their loneli-
ness or foolishly commiserate them on that account,
as is so often done.
626.
Without Melody. —There are persons to
whom a constant repose in themselves and the
harmonious ordering of all their capacities is so
natural that every definite activity is repugnant to
them. They resemble music which consists of
nothing but prolonged, harmonious accords, without
even the tendency to an organised and animated
melody showing itself. All external movement
serves only to restore to the boat its equilibrium


## p. 403 (#592) ############################################

394 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
on the sea of harmonious euphony. Modern men
usually become excessively impatient when they
meet such natures, who will never be anythingin the
world, only it is not allowable to say of them that
they are nothing. But in certain moods the sight
of them raises the unusual question: "Why should
there be melody at all? Why should it not
suffice us when life mirrors itself peacefully in a
deep lake? " The Middle Ages were richer in
such natures than our times. How seldom one
now meets with any one who can live on so peace-
fully and happily with himself even in the midst
of the crowd, saying to himself, like Goethe, " The
best thing of all is the deep calm in which I live
and grow in opposition to the world, and gain
what it cannot take away from me with fire and
sword. "
627.
To Live and Experience. —If we observe
how some people can deal with their experiences
—their unimportant, everyday experiences—so
that these become soil which yields fruit thrice
a year; whilst others—and how many ! —are
driven through the surf of the most exciting
adventures, the most diversified movements of
times and peoples, and yet always remain light,
always remain on the surface, like cork; we are
finally tempted to divide mankind into a minority
(minimality) of those who know how to make
much out of little, and a majority of those who
know how to make little out of much; indeed, we
even meet with the counter-sorcerers who, instead


## p. 403 (#593) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 395
of making the world out of nothing, make a
nothing out of the world.
628.
Seriousness IN Play. —In Genoa one evening,
in the twilight, I heard from a tower a long
chiming of bells; it was never like to end, and
sounded as if insatiable above the noise of the
streets, out into the evening sky and sea-air, so
thrilling, and at the same time so childish and so
sad. I then remembered the words of Plato, and
suddenly felt the force of them in my heart:
"Human matters, one and all, are not worthy of
great seriousness; nevertheless . . . "
629.
Conviction and Justice. —The requirement
that a person must afterwards, when cool and
sober, stand by what he says, promises, and resolves
during passion, is one of the heaviest burdens that
weigh upon mankind. To have to acknowledge
for all future time the consequences of anger, of
fiery revenge, of enthusiastic devotion, may lead to
a bitterness against these feelings proportionate
to the idolatry with which they are idolised,
especially by artists. These cultivate to its
full extent the esteem of the passions, and have
always done so; to be sure, they also glorify the
terrible satisfaction of the passions which a person
affords himself, the outbreaks of vengeance, with
death, mutilation, or voluntary banishment in their
train, and the resignation of the broken heart.


## p. 403 (#594) ############################################

396 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
In any case they keep alive curiosity about the
passions; it is as if they said: "Without passions
you have no experience whatever. " Because we
have sworn fidelity (perhaps even to a purely
fictitious being, such as a god), because we have
surrendered our heart to a prince, a party, a
woman, a priestly order, an artist, or a thinker, in
a state of infatuated delusion that threw a charm
over us and made those beings appear worthy of
all veneration, and every sacrifice—are we, there-
fore, firmly and inevitably bound? Or did we
not, after all, deceive ourselves then? Was there
not a hypothetical promise, under the tacit pre-
supposition that those beings to whom we conse-
crated ourselves were really the beings they
seemed to be in our imagination? Are we under
obligation to be faithful to our errors, even with
the knowledge that by this fidelity we shall cause
injury to our higher selves? No, there is no law,
no obligation of that sort; we must become traitors,
we must act unfaithfully and abandon our ideals
again and again. We cannot advance from one
period of life into another without causing these
pains of treachery and also suffering from them.
Might it be necessary to guard against the ebulli-
tions of our feelings in order to escape these pains?
Would not the world then become too arid, too
ghost-like for us? Rather will we ask ourselves
whether these pains are necessary on a change of
convictions, or whether they do not depend on
a mistaken opinion and estimate. Why do we
admire a person who remains true to his convic-
tions and despise him who changes them? I fear


## p. 403 (#595) ############################################

MAN ALONE BY HIMSELF. 397
the answer must be, "because every one takes for
granted that such a change is caused only by
motives of more general utility or of personal
trouble. " That is to say, we believe at bottom
that nobody alters his opinions as long as they are
advantageous to him, or at least as long as they
do not cause him any harm. If it is so, however,
it furnishes a bad proof of the intellectual signifi-
cance of all convictions. Let us once examine
how convictions arise, and let us see whether their
importance is not greatly over-estimated; it will
thereby be seen that the change of convictions also
is in all circumstances judged according to a false
standard, that we have hitherto been accustomed
to suffer too much from this change.
630.