No More Learning

If
the two ways cross, he is ill-treated, cast aside or
left alone. What significance has any particular
form of culture for these several travellers? The


## p. 175 (#271) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR.
175
enormous throng that press to their end on the
first road, understand by it the laws and institutions
that enable them to go forward in regular fashion
and rule out all the solitary and obstinate people
who look towards higher and remoter objects. To
the small company on the other road it has quite
a different office: they wish to guard themselves,
by means of a strong organisation, from being
swept away by the throng, to prevent their in-
dividual members from fainting on the way or
turning in spirit from their great task. These
solitary men must finish their work; that is why
they should all hold together; and those who have
their part in the scheme will take thought to prepare
themselves with ever-increasing purity of aim for
the birth of the genius, and ensure that the time
be ripe for him. Many are destined to help on
the labour, even among the second-rate talents,
and it is only in submission to such a destiny that
they can feel they are living for a duty, and have
a meaning and an object in their lives. But at
present these talents are being turned from the
road their instinct has chosen by the seductive
tones of the “fashionable culture,” that plays on
their selfish side, their vanities and weaknesses ;
and the time-spirit ever whispers in their ears its
flattering counsel :-“ Follow me and go not thither!
There you are only servants and tools, over-
shadowed by higher natures with no scope for
your own, drawn by threads, hung with fetters,
slaves and automatons. With me you may enjoy
your true personality, and be masters, your talents
may shine with their own light, and yourselves


## p. 175 (#272) ############################################

174 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
At present the labours of higher education produce
merely the savant or the official or the business
man or the Philistine or, more commonly, a mixture
of all four; and the future institutions will have a
harder task;—not in itself harder, as it is really
more natural, and so easier; and further, could any-
thing be harder than to make a youth into a savant
against nature, as now happens ? —But the difficulty
lies in unlearning what we know and setting up a
new aim; it will be an endless trouble to change
the fundamental idea of our present educational
system, that has its roots in the Middle Ages and
regards the mediæval savant as the ideal type of
culture. It is already time to put these objects
before us; for some generation must begin the
battle, of which a later generation will reap the
victory. The solitary man who has understood
the new fundamental idea of culture is at the
parting of the ways; on the one he will be
welcomed by his age, laurels and rewards will be
his, powerful parties will uphold him, he will have
as many in sympathy behind him as in front, and
when the leader speaks the word of deliverance,
it will echo through all the ranks. The first duty
is to "fight in line," the second to treat as foes all
who will not “fall in. ” On the other way he will
find fewer companions; it is steeper and more
tortuous. The travellers on the first road laugh
at him, as his way is the more troublesome and
dangerous; and they try to entice him over. If
the two ways cross, he is ill-treated, cast aside or
left alone. What significance has any particular
form of culture for these several travellers? The


## p. 175 (#273) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR.
175
enormous throng that press to their end on the
first road, understand by it the laws and institutions
that enable them to go forward in regular fashion
and rule out all the solitary and obstinate people
who look towards higher and remoter objects. To
the small company on the other road it has quite
a different office: they wish to guard themselves,
by means of a strong organisation, from being
swept away by the throng, to prevent their in-
dividual members from fainting on the way or
turning in spirit from their great task. These
solitary men must finish their work; that is why
they should all hold together; and those who have
their part in the scheme will take thought to prepare
themselves with ever-increasing purity of aim for
the birth of the genius, and ensure that the time
be ripe for him. Many are destined to help on
the labour, even among the second-rate talents,
and it is only in submission to such a destiny that
they can feel they are living for a duty, and have
a meaning and an object in their lives. But at
present these talents are being turned from the
road their instinct has chosen by the seductive
tones of the “ fashionable culture,” that plays on
their selfish side, their vanities and weaknesses;
and the time-spirit ever whispers in their ears its
flattering counsel :-“Follow me and go not thither!
There you are only servants and tools, over-
shadowed by higher natures with no scope for
your own, drawn by threads, hung with fetters,
slaves and automatons. With me you may enjoy
your true personality, and be masters, your talents
may shine with their own light, and yourselves


## p. 175 (#274) ############################################

174 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
At present the labours of higher education produce
merely the savant or the official or the business
man or the Philistine or, more commonly, a mixture
of all four; and the future institutions will have a
harder task;—not in itself harder, as it is really
more natural, and so easier; and further, could any-
thing be harder than to make a youth into a savant
against nature, as now happens ? —But the difficulty
lies in unlearning what we know and setting up a
new aim; it will be an endless trouble to change
the fundamental idea of our present educational
system, that has its roots in the Middle Ages and
regards the mediæval savant as the ideal type of
culture. It is already time to put these objects
before us; for some generation must begin the
battle, of which a later generation will reap the
victory. The solitary man who has understood
the new fundamental idea of culture is at the
parting of the ways; on the one he will be
welcomed by his age, laurels and rewards will be
his, powerful parties will uphold him, he will have
as many in sympathy behind him as in front, and
when the leader speaks the word of deliverance,
it will echo through all the ranks. The first duty
is to “fight in line,” the second to treat as foes all
who will not “fall in. ” On the other way he will
find fewer companions; it is steeper and more
tortuous. The travellers on the first road laugh
at him, as his way is the more troublesome and
dangerous; and they try to entice him over. If
the two ways cross, he is ill-treated, cast aside or
left alone. What significance has any particular
form of culture for these several travellers? The


## p. 175 (#275) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR.
175
enormous throng that press to their end on the
first road, understand by it the laws and institutions
that enable them to go forward in regular fashion
and rule out all the solitary and obstinate people
who look towards higher and remoter objects. To
the small company on the other road it has quite
a different office: they wish to guard themselves,
by means of a strong organisation, from being
swept away by the throng, to prevent their in-
dividual members from fainting on the way or
turning in spirit from their great task. These
solitary men must finish their work; that is why
they should all hold together; and those who have
their part in the scheme will take thought to prepare
themselves with ever-increasing purity of aim for
the birth of the genius, and ensure that the time
be ripe for him. Many are destined to help on
the labour, even among the second-rate talents,
and it is only in submission to such a destiny that
they can feel they are living for a duty, and have
a meaning and an object in their lives. But at
present these talents are being turned from the
road their instinct has chosen by the seductive
tones of the “fashionable culture,” that plays on
their selfish side, their vanities and weaknesses;
and the time-spirit ever whispers in their ears its
flattering counsel :-“Follow me and go not thither!
There you are only servants and tools, over-
shadowed by higher natures with no scope for
your own, drawn by threads, hung with fetters,
slaves and automatons. With me you may enjoy
your true personality, and be masters, your talents
may shine with their own light, and yourselves


## p. 176 (#276) ############################################

176 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
stand in the front ranks with an immense following
round you; and the acclamation of public opinion
will rejoice you more than a wandering breath of
approval sent down from the cold ethereal heights
of genius. " Even the best men are snared by such
allurements, and the ultimate difference comes not
so much from the rarity and power of their talent,
as the influence of a certain heroic disposition at
the base of them, and an inner feeling of kinship
with genius. For there are men who feel it as
their own misery when they see the genius in
painful toil and struggle, in danger of self-destruc-
tion, or neglected by the short-sighted selfishness
of the state, the superficiality of the business men,
and the cold arrogance of the professors; and I
hope there may be some to understand what I
mean by my sketch of Schopenhauer's destiny,
and to what end Schopenhauer can really educate.
VII.
But setting aside all thoughts of any educa-
tional revolution in the distant future;—what pro-
vision is required now, that our future philosopher
may have the best chance of opening his eyes to a
life like Schopenhauer's—hard as it is, yet still
livable? What, further, must be discovered that
may make his influence on his contemporaries
more certain? And what obstacles must be re-
moved before his example can have its full effect
and the philosopher train another philosopher?
Here we descend to be practical.


## p. 177 (#277) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 177
Nature always desires the greatest utility, but
does not understand how to find the best and
handiest means to her end; that is her great sorrow,
and the cause of her melancholy. The impulse to-
wards her own redemption shows clearly her wish
to give men a significant existence by the generation
of the philosopher and the artist: but how unclear
and weak is the effect she generally obtains with
xher artists and philosophers, and how seldom is
there any effect at all! She is especially perplexed
in her efforts to make the philosopher useful; her
methods are casual and tentative, her failures in-
numerable; most of her philosophers never touch
the common good of mankind at all. Her actions
seem those of a spendthrift; but the cause lies in
no prodigal luxury, but in her inexperience. Were
she human, she would probably never cease to be
dissatisfied with herself and her bungling. Nature
shoots the philosopher at mankind like an arrow;
she does not aim, but hopes that the arrow will
stick somewhere. She makes countless mistakes,
that give her pain. She is as extravagant in the
sphere of culture as in her planting and sowing. She
fulfils her ends in a large and clumsy fashion, using
up far too much of her strength. The artist has
the same relation to the connoisseurs and lovers of
his art as a piece of heavy artillery to a flock of
sparrows. It is a fool's part to use a great avalanche
to sweep away a little snow, to kill a man in order
to strike the fly on his nose. The artist and the
philosopher are witnesses against Nature's adapta-
tion of her means, however well they may show the
wisdom of her ends. They only reach a few and
VOL. II. M


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178 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
should reach all—and even these few are not struck
with the strength they used when they shot. It is
sad to have to value art so differently as cause and
effect; how huge in its inception, how faint the
echo afterwards! The artist does his work as
Nature bids him, for the benefit of other men—no
doubt of it; but he knows that none of those men
will understand and love his work as he understands
and loves it himself. That lonely height of love
and understanding is necessary, by Nature's clumsy
law, to produce a lower type; the great and noble
are used as the means to the small and ignoble.
Nature is a bad manager; her expenses are far
greater than her profits: for all her riches she must
one day go bankrupt. She would have acted more
reasonably to make the rule of her household—
small expense and hundredfold profit; if there had
been, for example, only a few artists with moderate
powers, but an immense number of hearers to ap-
preciate them, stronger and more powerful char-
acters than the artists themselves; then the effect
of the art-work, in comparison with the cause, might
be a hundred-tongued echo. One might at least
expect cause and effect to be of equal power; but
Nature lags infinitely behind this consummation.
An artist, and especially a philosopher, seems often
to have dropped by chance into his age, as a
wandering hermit or straggler cut off from the main
body. Think how utterly great Schopenhauer is,
and what a small and absurd effect he has had!
An honest man can feel no greater shame at the
present time than at the thought of the casual treat-
ment Schopenhauer has received and the evil powers


## p. 179 (#279) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 179
that have up to now killed his effect among men.
First there was the want of readers,—to the eternal
shame of our cultivated age ;—then the inadequacy
of his first public adherents, as soon as he had any;
further, I think, the crassness of the modern man
towards books, which he will no longer take
seriously. As an outcome of many attempts to
adapt Schopenhauer to this enervated age, the new
danger has gradually arisen of regarding him as an
odd kind of pungent herb, of taking him in grains,
as a sort of metaphysical pepper. In this way he
has gradually become famous, and I should think
more have heard his name than Hegel's; and, for
all that, he is still a solitary being, who has failed
of his effect. —Though the honour of causing the
failure belongs least of all to the barking of his
literary antagonists; first because there are few
men with the patience to read them, and secondly,
because any one who does, is sent immediately to
Schopenhauer himself; for who will let a donkey-
driver prevent him from mounting a fine horse,
however much he praise his donkey?
Whoever has recognised Nature's unreason in our
time, will have to consider some means to help her;
his task will be to bring the free spirits and the
sufferers from this age to know Schopenhauer;
and make them tributaries to the flood that is to
overbear all the clumsy uses to which Nature even
now is accustomed to put her philosophers. Such
men will see that the identical obstacles hinder the
effect of a great philosophy and the production of
the great philosopher; and so will direct their aims
to prepare the regeneration of Schopenhauer, which


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180 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
means that of the philosophical genius. The real
opposition to the further spread of his doctrine in
the past, and the regeneration of the philosopher in
the future, is the perversity of human nature as it
is; and all the great men that are to be must spend
infinite pains in freeing themselves from it. The
world they enter is plastered over with pretence—
including not merely religious dogmas, but such
juggling conceptions as "progress," "universal
education," "nationalism," "the modern state ";
practically all our general terms have an artificial
veneer over them that will bring a clearer-sighted
posterity to reproach our age bitterly for its warped
and stunted growth, however loudly we may boast
of our "health. " The beauty of the antique vases,
says Schopenhauer, lies in the simplicity with which
they express their meaning and object; it is so
with all the ancient implements; if Nature produced
amphorae, lamps, tables, chairs, helmets, shields,
breastplates and the like, they would resemble
these. And, as a corollary, whoever considers how
we all manage our art, politics, religion and educa-
tion—to say nothing of our vases! —will find in
them a barbaric exaggeration and arbitrariness of
expression. Nothing is more unfavourable to the
rise of genius than such monstrosities. They are
unseen and undiscoverable, the leaden weights on
his hand when he will set it to the plough; the
weights are only shaken off with violence, and his
highest work must to an extent always bear the
mark of it.
In considering the conditions that, at best, keep
the born philosopher from being oppressed by the


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SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 181
perversity of the age, I am surprised to find they
are partly those in which Schopenhauer himself
grew up. True, there was no lack of opposing in-
fluences; the evil time drew perilously near him in
the person of a vain and pretentious mother. But
the proud republican character of his father rescued
him from her and gave him the first quality of a
philosopher—a rude and strong virility. His father
was neither an official nor a savant; he travelled
much abroad with his son,—a great help to one
who must know men rather than books, and worship
truth before the state. In time he got accustomed
to national peculiarities: he made England, France
and Italy equally his home, and felt no little sym-
pathy with the Spanish character. On the whole,
he did not think it an honour to be born in Germany,
and I am not sure that the new political conditions
would have made him change his mind. He held
quite openly the opinion that the state's one object
was to give protection at home and abroad, and
even protection against its "protectors," and to
attribute any other object to it was to endanger its
true end. And so, to the consternation of all the
so-called liberals, he left his property to the survivors
of the Prussian soldiers who fell in 1848 in the fight
for order. To understand the state and its duties
in this single sense may seem more and more hence-
forth the sign of intellectual superiority; for the man
with the furor philosophicus in him will no longer
have time for the furor politicus, and will wisely
keep from reading the newspapers or serving a
party; though he will not hesitate a moment to
take his place in the ranks if his country be in real


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182 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
need. All states are badly managed, when other
men than politicians busy themselves with politics;
and they deserve to be ruined by their political
amateurs.
Schopenhauer had another great advantage—
that he had never been educated for a professor,
but worked for some time (though against his will)
as a merchant's clerk, and through all his early
years breathed the freer air of a great commercial
house. A savant can never become a philosopher:
Kant himself could not, but remained in a chrysalis
stage to the end, in spite of the innate force of his
genius. Any one who thinks I do Kant wrong in
saying this does not know what a philosopher is—
not only a great thinker, but also a real man; and
how could a real man have sprung from a savant?
He who lets conceptions, opinions, events, books
come between himself and things, and is born for
history (in the widest sense), will never see anything
at once, and never be himself a thing to be " seen
at once"; though both these powers should be
in the philosopher, as he must take most of his
doctrine from himself and be himself the copy
and compendium of the whole world. If a man
look at himself through a veil of other people's
opinions, no wonder he sees nothing but—those
opinions. And it is thus that the professors see
and live. But Schopenhauer had the rare happiness
of seeing the genius not only in himself, but also
outside himself—in Goethe; and this double re-
flection taught him everything about the aims and
culture of the learned. He knew by this experience
how the free strong man, to whom all artistic culture


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SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 183
was looking, must come to be born; and could he,
after this vision, have much desire to busy himself
with the so-called "art," in the learned, hypocritical
manner of the moderns? He had seen something
higher than that—an awful unearthly judgment-
scene in which all life, even the highest and com-
pletest, was weighed and found too light; he had
beheld the saint as the judge of existence. We
cannot tell how early Schopenhauer reached this
view of life, and came to hold it with such intensity
as to make all his writings an attempt to mirror it;
we know that the youth had this great vision, and
can well believe it of the child. Everything that
he gained later from life and books, from all the
realms of knowledge, was only a means of colour
and expression to him; the Kantian philosophy
itself was to him an extraordinary rhetorical instru-
ment for making the utterance of his vision, as he
thought, clearer; the Buddhist and Christian myth-
ologies occasionally served the same end. He
had one task and a thousand means to execute it;
one meaning, and innumerable hieroglyphs to
express it.
It was one of the high conditions of his existence
that he really could live for such a task—according
to his motto vitam impendere vero — and none
of life's material needs could shake his resolution;
and we know the splendid return he made his father
for this. The contemplative man in Germany
usually pursues his scientific studies to the detri-
ment of his sincerity, as a "considerate fool," in
search of place and honour, circumspect and obse-
quious, and fawning on his influential superiors.


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184 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
Nothing offended the savants more than Schopen-
hauer's unlikeness to them.
VIII.
These are a few of the conditions under which
the philosophical genius can at least come to light
in our time, in spite of all thwarting influences;—
a virility of character, an early knowledge of
mankind, an absence of learned education and
narrow patriotism, of compulsion to earn his
livelihood or depend on the state,—freedom in
fact, and again freedom; the same marvellous and
dangerous element in which the Greek philosophers
grew up. The man who will reproach him, as
Niebuhr did Plato, with being a bad citizen, may
do so, and be himself a good one; so he and
Plato will be right together! Another may call
this great freedom presumption; he is also right,
as he could not himself use the freedom properly
if he desired it, and would certainly presume too
far with it. This freedom is really a grave burden
of guilt; and can only be expiated by great
actions. Every ordinary son of earth has the
right of looking askance on such endowments;
and may Providence keep him from being so
endowed—burdened, that is, with such terrible
duties! His freedom and his loneliness would be
his ruin, and ennui would turn him into a fool, and
a mischievous fool at that.
A father may possibly learn something from
this that he may use for his son's private education,


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SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 185
though one must not expect fathers to have only
philosophers for their sons. It is possible that
they will always oppose their sons becoming
philosophers, and call it mere perversity; Socrates
was sacrificed to the fathers' anger, for " corrupting
the youth," and Plato even thought a new ideal
state necessary to prevent the philosophers' growth
from being dependent on the fathers' folly. It
looks at present as though Plato had really accom-
plished something; for the modern state counts
the encouragement of philosophy as one of its
duties and tries to secure for a number of men
at a time the sort of freedom that conditions the
philosopher. But, historically, Plato has been
very unlucky; as soon as a structure has risen
corresponding actually to his proposals, it has
always turned, on a closer view, into a goblin-child,
a monstrous changeling; compare the ecclesiastical
state of the Middle Ages with the government of
the "God-born king" of which Plato dreamed!
The modern state is furthest removed from the
idea of the Philosopher-king (Thank Heaven for
that! the Christian will say); but we must think
whether it takes that very "encouragement of
philosophy " in a Platonic sense, I mean as seriously
and honestly as if its highest object were to pro-
duce more Platos. If the philosopher seem, as
usual, an accident of his time, does the state make
it its conscious business to turn the accidental into
the necessary and help Nature here also?
Experience teaches us a better way—or a worse:
it says that nothing so stands in the way of the
birth and growth of Nature's philosopher as the


## p. 186 (#286) ############################################

186 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
bad philosophers made "by order. " A poor
obstacle, isn't it? and the same that Schopenhauer
pointed out in his famous essay on University
philosophy. I return to this point, as men must
be forced to take it seriously, to be driven to
activity by it; and I think all writing is useless
that does not contain such a stimulus to activity.
And anyhow it is a good thing to apply Schopen-
hauer's eternal theories once more to our own
contemporaries, as some kindly soul might think
that everything has changed for the better in
Germany since his fierce diatribes. Unfortunately
his work is incomplete on this side as well,
unimportant as the side may be.
The " freedom " that the state, as I said, bestows
on certain men for the sake of philosophy is,
properly speaking, no freedom at all, but an
office that maintains its holder. The " encourage-
ment of philosophy" means that there are to-day
a number of men whom the state enables to make
their living out of philosophy; whereas the old
sages of Greece were not paid by the state, but at
best were presented, as Zeno was, with a golden
crown and a monument in the Ceramicus. I
cannot say generally whether truth is served by
showing the way to live by her, since everything
depends on the character of the individual who
shows the way. I can imagine a degree of pride
in a man saying to his fellow-men, "take care of
me, as I have something better to do—namely to
take care of you. " We should not be angry at
such a heightened mode of expression in Plato
and Schopenhauer; and so they might properly


## p. 187 (#287) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 187
have been University philosophers,—as Plato, for
example, was a court philosopher for a while
without lowering the dignity of philosophy. But
in Kant we have the usual submissive professor,
without any nobility in his relations with the
state; and thus he could not justify the University
philosophy when it was once assailed. If there be
natures like Schopenhauer's and Plato's, which can
justify it, I fear they will never have the chance, as
the state would never venture to give such men
these positions, for the simple reason that every
state fears them, and will only favour philosophers
it does not fear. The state obviously has a special
fear of philosophy, and will try to attract more
philosophers, to create the impression that it has
philosophy on its side,—because it has those men
on its side who have the title without the power.
But if there should come one who really proposes
to cut everything to the quick, the state included,
with the knife of truth, the state, that affirms its
own existence above all, is justified in banishing
him as an enemy, just as it bans a religion that
exalts itself to be its judge. The man who con-
sents to be a state philosopher, must also consent
to be regarded as renouncing the search for truth
in all its secret retreats. At any rate, so long as
he enjoys his position, he must recognise some-
thing higher than truth—the state. And not only
the state, but everything required by it for existence
—a definite form of religion, a social system, a
standing army; a noli me tangere is written
above all these things. Can a University
philosopher ever keep clearly before him the


## p. 188 (#288) ############################################

188 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
whole round of these duties and limitations? I
do not know. The man who has done so and
remains a state-official, is a false friend to truth;
if he has not,—I think he is no friend to truth either.
But general considerations like these are always
the weakest in their influence on mankind. Most
people will find it enough to shrug their shoulders
and say, " As if anything great and pure has ever
been able to maintain itself on this earth without
some concession to human vulgarity! Would you
rather the state persecuted philosophers than paid
them for official services? " Without answering
this last question, I will merely say that these
"concessions" of philosophy to the state go rather
far at present. In the first place, the state chooses
its own philosophical servants, as many as its
institutions require; it therefore pretends to be
able to distinguish the good and the bad
philosophers, and even assumes there must be
a sufficient supply of good ones to fill all the
chairs. The state is the authority not only for
their goodness but their numbers. Secondly, it
confines those it has chosen to a definite place and
a definite activity among particular men; they
must instruct every undergraduate who wants
instruction, daily, at stated hours. The question
is whether a philosopher can bind himself, with a
good conscience, to have something to teach every
day, to any one who wishes to listen. Must he not
appear to know more than he does, and speak,
before an unknown audience, of things that he
could mention without risk only to his most
intimate friends? And above all, does he not


## p. 189 (#289) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 189
surrender the precious freedom of following his
genius when and wherever it call him, by the mere
fact of being bound, to think at stated times on a
fixed subject? And before young men, too! Is
not such thinking in its nature emasculate? And
suppose he felt some day that he had no ideas just
then—and yet must be in his place and appear to
be thinking! What then?
"But," one will say, "he is not a thinker but
mainly a depository of thought, a man of great
learning in all previous philosophies. Of these
he can always say something that his scholars
do not know. " This is actually the third, and the
most dangerous, concession made by philosophy
to the state, when it is compelled to appear in the
form of erudition, as the knowledge (more specific-
ally) of the history of philosophy. The genius
looks purely and lovingly on existence, like a poet,
and cannot dive too deep into it;—and nothing is
more abhorrent to him than to burrow among the
innumerable strange and wrong-headed opinions.
The learned history of the past was never a true
philosopher's business, in India or Greece; and
a professor of philosophy who busies himself with
such matters must be, at best, content to hear it
said of him, "He is an able scholar, antiquary,
philologist, historian,"—but never, "He is a
philosopher.
" I said, "at best": for a scholar
feels that most of the learned works written by
University philosophers are badly done, without
any real scientific power, and generally are dread-
fully tedious. Who will blow aside, for example,
the Lethean vapour with which the history of


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190 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
Greek philosophy has been enveloped by the dull
though not very scientific works of Ritter, Brandis
and Zeller? I, at any rate, would rather read
Diogenes Laertius than Zeller, because at least the
spirit of the old philosophers lives in Diogenes,
but neither that nor any other spirit in Zeller.
And, after all, what does the history of philosophy
matter to our young men? Are they to be dis-
couraged by the welter of opinions from having
any of their own; or taught to join the chorus
that approves the vastness of our progress? Are
they to learn to hate or perhaps despise philosophy?
One might expect the last, knowing the torture
the students endure for their philosophical ex-
aminations, in having to get into their unfortunate
heads the maddest efforts of the human mind as
well as the greatest and profoundest. The only
method of criticising a philosophy that is possible
and proves anything at all—namely to see whether
one can live by it—has never been taught at the
universities; only the criticism of words, and
again words, is taught there. Imagine a young
head, without much experience of life, being stuffed
with fifty systems (in the form of words) and fifty
criticisms of them, all mixed up together,—what
an overgrown wilderness he will come to be, what
contempt he will feel for a philosophical education!
It is, of course, not an education in philosophy
at all, but in the art of passing a philosophical
examination: the usual result being the pious
ejaculation of the wearied examinee, "Thank God
I am no philosopher, but a Christian and a good
citizen! "


## p. 191 (#291) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 19I
What if this cry were the ultimate object of the
state, and the "education" or leading to philosophy
were merely a leading from philosophy? We may
well ask. —But if so, there is one thing to fear—
that the youth may some day find out to what
end philosophy is thus mis-handled. "Is the
highest thing of all, the production of the
philosophical genius, nothing but a pretext, and
the main object perhaps to hinder his production?
And is Reason turned to Unreason ? "—Then woe
to the whole machinery of political and professorial
trickery!
Will it soon become notorious? I do not know;
but anyhow university philosophy has fallen into
a general state of doubting and despair. The
cause lies partly in the feebleness of those who
hold the chairs at present: and if Schopenhauer
had to write his treatise on university philosophy
to-day, he would find the club no longer necessary,
but could conquer with a bulrush. They are the
heirs and successors of those slip-shod thinkers
whose crazy heads Schopenhauer struck at: their
childish natures and dwarfish frames remind one of
the Indian proverb: "men are born according to
their deeds, deaf, dumb, misshapen. " Those fathers
deserved such sons, " according to their deeds," as
the proverb says. Hence the students will, no
doubt, soon get on without the philosophy taught
at their university, just as those who are not
university men manage to do without it already.
This can be tested from one's own experience:
in my student-days, for example, I found the
university philosophers very ordinary men indeed,


## p. 192 (#292) ############################################

192 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
who had collected together a few conclusions from
the other sciences, and in their leisure hours read
the newspapers and went to concerts; they were
treated by their academic colleagues with politely
veiled contempt. They had the reputation of
knowing very little, but of never being at a loss for
obscure expressions to conceal their ignorance.
They had a preference for those obscure regions
where a man could not walk long with clear
vision. One said of the natural sciences,—" Not
one of them can fully explain to me the origin of
matter; then what do I care about them all ? "—
Another said of history, " It tells nothing new to
the man with ideas ": in fact, they always found
reasons for its being more philosophical to know
nothing than to learn anything. If they let them-
selves be drawn to learn, a secret instinct made
them fly from the actual sciences and found a dim
kingdom amid their gaps and uncertainties. They
"led the way " in the sciences in the sense that the
quarry "leads the way" for the hunters who are
behind him. Recently they have amused them-
selves with asserting they are merely the watchers
on the frontier of the sciences. The Kantian
doctrine is of use to them here, and they industri-
ously build up an empty scepticism on it, of which
in a short time nobody will take any more notice.
Here and there one will rise to a little metaphysic
of his own, with the general accompaniment of
headaches and giddiness and bleeding at the nose.
After the usual ill-success of their voyages into the
clouds and the mist, some hard-headed young
student of the real sciences will pluck them down


## p. 193 (#293) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 193
by the skirts, and their faces will assume the
expression now habitual to them, of offended
dignity at being found out. They have lost their
happy confidence, and not one of them will venture
a step further for the sake of his philosophy. Some
used to believe they could find out new religions
or reinstate old ones by their systems. They
have given up such pretensions now, and have
become mostly mild, muddled folk, with no
Lucretian boldness, but merely some spiteful
complaints of the "dead weight that lies on the
intellects of mankind "! No one can even learn
logic from them now, and their obvious knowledge
of their own powers has made them discontinue
the dialectical disputations common in the old
days. There is much more care and modesty,
logic and inventiveness, in a word, more philo-
sophical method in the work of the special sciences
than in the so-called "philosophy," and every one
will agree with the temperate words of Bagehot *
on the present system builders: "Unproved abstract
principles without number have been eagerly caught
up by sanguine men, and then carefully spun out
into books and theories, which were to explain the
whole world. But the world goes clear against
these abstractions, and it must do so, as they
require it to go in antagonistic directions. The
mass of a system attracts the young and impresses
the unwary; but cultivated people are very
* Physics and Politics, chap. v. Nietzsche has altered the
order of the sentences without any apparent benefit to his
own argument, and to the disadvantage of Bagehot's. I
have restored the original order. —Tr.
VOL. II. N


## p. 194 (#294) ############################################

194 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
dubious about it. They are ready to receive hints
and suggestions, and the smallest real truth is
ever welcome. But a large book of deductive
philosophy is much to be suspected. Who is not
almost sure beforehand that the premises will
contain a strange mixture of truth and error, and
therefore that it will not be worth while to spend
life in reasoning over their consequences? " The
philosophers, especially in Germany, used to sink
into such a state of abstraction that they were in
continual danger of running their heads against
a beam; but there is a whole herd of Laputan
flappers about them to give them in time a gentle
stroke on their eyes or anywhere else. Sometimes
the blows are too hard; and then these scorners of
earth forget themselves and strike back, but the
victim always escapes them. "Fool, you do not
see the beam," says the flapper; and often the
philosopher does see the beam, and calms down.
These flappers are the natural sciences and history;
little by little they have so overawed the German
dream-craft which has long taken the place of
philosophy, that the dreamer would be only too
glad to give up the attempt to run alone: but
when they unexpectedly fall into the others' arms,
or try to put leading-strings on them that they may
be led themselves, those others flap as terribly as
they can, as if they would say, "This is all that is
wanting,—that a philosophaster like this should lay
his impure hands on us, the natural sciences and
history! Away with him! " Then they start
back, knowing not where to turn or to ask the way.
They wanted to have a little physical knowledge


## p. 195 (#295) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 195
at their back, possibly in the form of empirical
psychology (like the Herbartians), or perhaps a
little history; and then they could at least make a
public show of behaving scientifically, although in
their hearts they may wish all philosophy and all
science at the devil.
But granted that this herd of bad philosophers is
ridiculous—and who will deny it? —how far are
they also harmful? They are harmful just because
they make philosophy ridiculous. As long as this
imitation-thinking continues to be recognised by
the state, the lasting effect of a true philosophy
will be destroyed, or at any rate circumscribed;
nothing does this so well as the curse of ridicule
that the representatives of the great cause have
drawn on them, for it attacks that cause itself.
And so I think it will encourage culture to deprive
philosophy of its political and academic standing,
and relieve state and university of the task, im-
possible for them, of deciding between true and
false philosophy. Let the philosophers run wild,
forbid them any thoughts of office or civic position,
hold them out no more bribes,—nay, rather persecute
them and treat them ill,—you will see a wonderful
result. They will flee in terror and seek a roof
where they can, these poor phantasms; one will
become a parson, another a schoolmaster, another
will creep into an editorship, another write school-
books for young ladies' colleges, the wisest of them
will plough the fields, the vainest go to court.
Everything will be left suddenly empty, the birds
flown: for it is easy to get rid of bad philosophers,
—one only has to cease paying them. And that


## p. 196 (#296) ############################################

I96 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
is a better plan than the open patronage of any
philosophy, whatever it be, for state reasons.
The state has never any concern with truth, but
only with the truth useful to it, or rather, with
anything that is useful to it, be it truth, half-truth,
or error. A coalition between state and philosophy
has only meaning when the latter can promise to
be unconditionally useful to the state, to put its
well-being higher than truth. It would certainly
be a noble thing for the state to have truth as a
paid servant; but it knows well enough that it is
the essence of truth to be paid nothing and serve
nothing. So the state's servant turns out to be
merely "false truth," a masked actor who cannot
perform the office required from the real truth—
the affirmation of the state's worth and sanctity.
When a mediaeval prince wished to be crowned
by the Pope, but could not get him to consent,
he appointed an antipope to do the business for
him. This may serve up to a certain point; but
not when the modern state appoints an "anti-
philosophy" to legitimise it; for it has true
philosophy against it just as much as before, or
even more so. I believe in all seriousness that it
is to the state's advantage to have nothing further
to do with philosophy, to demand nothing from it,
and let it go its own way as much as possible.
Without this indifferent attitude, philosophy may
become dangerous and oppressive, and will have
to be persecuted. —The only interest the state can
have in the university lies in the training of
obedient and useful citizens; and it should hesitate
to put this obedience and usefulness in doubt by


## p. 197 (#297) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 197
demanding an examination in philosophy from the
young men. To make a bogey of philosophy may
be an excellent way to frighten the idle and in-
competent from its study; but this advantage is
not enough to counterbalance the danger that this
kind of compulsion may arouse from the side of
the more reckless and turbulent spirits. They
learn to know about forbidden books, begin to
criticise their teachers, and finally come to under-
stand the object of university philosophy and its
examinations; not to speak of the doubts that
may be fostered in the minds of young theologians,
as a consequence of which they are beginning to
be extinct in Germany, like the ibexes in the
Tyrol.
I know the objections that the state could bring
against all this, as long as the lovely Hegel-corn
was yellowing in all the fields; but now that hail
has destroyed the crop and all men's hopes of it,
now that nothing has been fulfilled and all the
barns are empty,—there are no more objections
to be made, but rather rejections of philosophy
itself. The state has now the power of rejection;
in Hegel's time it only wished to have it—and
that makes a great difference. The state needs
no more the sanction of philosophy, and
philosophy has thus become superfluous to it. It
will find advantage in ceasing to maintain its
professors, or (as I think will soon happen) in
merely pretending to maintain them; but it is of
still greater importance that the university should
see the benefit of this as well. At least I believe
the real sciences must see that their interest lies


## p. 197 (#298) ############################################

196
THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
is a better plan than the open patronage of any
philosophy, whatever it be, for state reasons.
The state has never any concern with truth, but
only with the truth useful to it, or rather, with
anything that is useful to it, be it truth, half-truth,
or error. A coalition between state and philosophy
has only meaning when the latter can promise to
be unconditionally useful to the state, to put its
well-being higher than truth. It would certainly
be a noble thing for the state to have truth as a
paid servant; but it knows well enough that it is
the essence of truth to be paid nothing and serve
nothing. So the state's servant turns out to be
merely “ false truth," a masked actor who cannot
perform the office required from the real truth-
the affirmation of the state's worth and sanctity.
When a mediæval prince wished to be crowned
by the Pope, but could not get him to consent,
he appointed an antipope to do the business for
him. This may serve up to a certain point; but
not when the modern state appoints an “anti-
philosophy” to legitimise it; for it has true
philosophy against it just as much as before, or
even more so. I believe in all seriousness that it
is to the state's advantage to have nothing further
to do with philosophy, to demand nothing from it,
and let it go its own way as much as possible.
Without this indifferent attitude, philosophy may
become dangerous and oppressive, and will have
to be persecuted. —The only interest the state can
have in the university lies in the training of
obedient and useful citizens; and it should hesitate
to put this obedience and usefulness in doubt by


## p. 197 (#299) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR.
197
demanding an examination in philosophy from the
young men. To make a bogey of philosophy may
be an excellent way to frighten the idle and in-
competent from its study; but this advantage is
not enough to counterbalance the danger that this
kind of compulsion may arouse from the side of
the more reckless and turbulent spirits. They
learn to know about forbidden books, begin to
criticise their teachers, and finally come to under-
stand the object of university philosophy and its
examinations; not to speak of the doubts that
may be fostered in the minds of young theologians,
as a consequence of which they are beginning to
be extinct in Germany, like the ibexes in the
Tyrol.
I know the objections that the state could bring
against all this, as long as the lovely Hegel-corn
was yellowing in all the fields; but now that hail
has destroyed the crop and all men's hopes of it,
now that nothing has been fulfilled and all the
barns are empty,—there are no more objections
to be made, but rather rejections of philosophy
itself. The state has now the power of rejection;
in Hegel's time it only wished to have it—and
that makes a great difference. The state needs
no more the sanction of philosophy, and
philosophy has thus become superfluous to it. It
will find advantage in ceasing to maintain its
professors, or (as I think will soon happen) in
merely pretending to maintain them; but it is of
still greater importance that the university should
see the benefit of this as well. At least I believe
the real sciences must see that their interest lies


## p. 198 (#300) ############################################

198 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
in freeing themselves from all contact with sham
science. And further, the reputation of the
universities hangs too much in the balance for
them not to welcome a severance from methods
that are thought little of even in academic circles.
The outer world has good reason for its wide-
spread contempt of universities; they are re-
proached with being cowardly, the small fearing
the great, and the great fearing public opinion; it
is said that they do not lead the higher thought
of the age but hobble slowly behind it, and cleave
no longer to the fundamental ideas of the
recognised sciences. Grammar, for example, is
studied more diligently than ever without any one
seeing the necessity of a rigorous training in speech
and writing. The gates of Indian antiquity are
being opened, and the scholars have no more idea
of the most imperishable works of the Indians—
their philosophies—than a beast has of playing
the harp; though Schopenhauer thinks that the
acquaintance with Indian philosophy is one of the
greatest advantages possessed by our century.
Classical antiquity is the favourite playground
nowadays, and its effect is no longer classical and
formative; as is shown by the students, who are
certainly no models for imitation. Where is now
the spirit of Friedrich August Wolf to be found,
of whom Franz Passow could say that he seemed
a loyal and humanistic spirit with force enough
to set half the world aflame? Instead of that a
journalistic spirit is arising in the university, often
under the name of philosophy; the smooth
delivery—the very cosmetics of speech — with


## p. 199 (#301) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 199
Faust and Nathan the Wise for ever on the lips,
the accent and the outlook of our worst literary
magazines and, more recently, much chatter
about our holy German music, and the demand
for lectures on Schiller and Goethe,—all this is a
sign that the university spirit is beginning to be
confused with the Spirit of the Age. Thus the
establishment of a higher tribunal, outside the
universities, to protect and criticise them with
regard to culture, would seem a most valuable
thing, and as soon as philosophy can sever itself
from the universities and be purified from every
unworthy motive or hypocrisy, it will be able to
become such a tribunal. It will do its work with-
out state help in money or honours, free from the
spirit of the age as well as from any fear of it; being
in fact the judge, as Schopenhauer was, of the
so-called culture surrounding it. And in this way
the philosopher can also be useful to the university,
by refusing to be a part of it, but criticising it
from afar. Distance will lend dignity.
But, after all, what does the life of a state or the
progress of universities matter in comparison with
the life of philosophy on earth! For, to say quite
frankly what I mean, it is infinitely more important
that a philosopher should arise on the earth than
that a state or a university should continue. The
dignity of philosophy may rise in proportion as
the submission to public opinion and the danger
to liberty increase; it was at its highest during the
convulsions marking the fall of the Roman
Republic, and in the time of the Empire, when the
names of both philosophy and history became


## p. 200 (#302) ############################################

200 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
ingrata principibus nomina. Brutus shows its
dignity better than Plato; his was a time when
ethics cease to have commonplaces. Philosophy
is not much regarded now, and we may well ask
why no great soldier or statesman has taken it up;
and the answer is that a thin phantom has met him
under the name of philosophy, the cautious wisdom
of the learned professor; and philosophy has soon
come to seem ridiculous to him. It ought to have
seemed terrible; and men who are called to
authority should know the heroic power that has
its source there. An American may tell them
what a centre of mighty forces a great thinker can
prove on this earth. "Beware when the great God
lets loose a thinker on this planet," says Emerson. *
"Then all things are at risk. It is as when a con-
flagration has broken out in a great city, and no
man knows what is safe, or where it will end.
There is not a piece of science, but its flank may
be turned to-morrow; there is not any literary
reputation, not the so-called eternal names of fame,
that may not be revised and condemned. . . . The
things which are dear to men at this hour are so
on account of the ideas which have emerged on
their mental horizon, and which cause the present
order of things as a tree bears its apples. A new
degree of culture would instantly revolutionise the
entire system of human pursuits. " If such thinkers
are dangerous, it is clear why our university
thinkers are not dangerous; for their thoughts
bloom as peacefully in the shade of tradition "as
* Essay on "Circles. "


## p. 201 (#303) ############################################

SCHOPENHAUER AS EDUCATOR. 201
ever tree bore its apples. " They do not frighten;
they carry away no gates of Gaza; and to all their
little contemplations one can make the answer of
Diogenes when a certain philosopher was praised:
"What great result has he to show, who has
so long practised philosophy and yet has hurt
nobody? " Yes, the university philosophy should
have on its monument," It has hurt nobody. " But
this is rather the praise one gives to an old woman
than to a goddess of truth; and it is not surprising
that those who know the goddess only as an old
woman are the less men for that, and are naturally
neglected by the real men of power.
If this be the case in our time, the dignity of
philosophy is trodden in the mire; and she seems
herself to have become ridiculous or insignificant.
All her true friends are bound to bear witness
against this transformation, at least to show that
it is merely her false servants in philosopher's
clothing who are so. Or better, they must prove
by their own deed that the love of truth has itself
awe and power.
Schopenhauer proved this and will continue to
prove it, more and more.
VOL. II.


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THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
GRADUATE LIBRARY
DATE DUE
APR 11 1973
MARIO 1980
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APR-27 1589.
ARR ng
APR 2 7 1989
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