—Our occa-
sional coldness and indifference towards people,
which is imputed to us as hardness and defect of
character, is often only an exhaustion of the in-
tellect .
sional coldness and indifference towards people,
which is imputed to us as hardness and defect of
character, is often only an exhaustion of the in-
tellect .
Nietzsche - v07 - Human All-Too-Human - b
Otherwise it involves no
tangible profit; it would be too little used and
too often stand idle. But as to what is most sale-
able, the public, as above said, decides: it must be
the most exchangeable—in other words, the thing
that appears good and also appears cheap. Thus
in the domain of labour our motto must also hold
good: "More respect for them that know! "
281.
The Danger of Kings. —Democracy has it in
its power, without any violent means, and only by
a lawful pressure steadily exerted, to make kingship
and emperorship hollow, until only a zero remains,
perhaps with the significance of every zero in that,
while nothing in itself, it multiplies a number ten-
fold if placed on the right side. Kingship and em-
perorship would remain a gorgeous ornament upon
the simple and appropriate dress of democracy, a
beautiful superfluity that democracy allows itself,
a relic of all the historically venerable, primitive or-
naments, nay the symbol of history itself, and in
this unique position a highly effective thing if, as
above said, it does not stand alone, but is put on the
right side. —In order to avoid the danger of this
## p. 335 (#383) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 335
nullification, kings hold by their teeth to their dig-
nity as war-lords. To this end they need wars, or
in other words exceptional circumstances, in which
that slow, lawful pressure of the democratic forces
is relaxed.
282.
The Teacher a Necessary Evil. — Let us
have as few people as possible between the pro-
ductive minds and the hungry and recipient minds!
The middlemen almost unconsciously adulterate the
food which they supply. For their work as middle-
men they want too high a fee for themselves, and
this is drawn from the original, productive spirits
—namely, interest, admiration, leisure, money, and
other advantages. —Accordingly, we should always
look upon the teacher as a necessary evil, just like
the merchant; as an evil that we should make as
small as possible. —Perhaps the prevailing distress
in Germany has its main cause in the fact that too
many wish to live and live well by trade (in other
words, desiring as far as possible to diminish prices
for the producer and raise prices for the consumer,
and thus to profit by the greatest possible loss to
both). In the same way, we may certainly trace a
main cause of the prevailing intellectual poverty in
the superabundance of teachers. It is because of
teachers that so little is learnt, and that so badly.
283.
The Tax of Homage. —Him whom we know
and honour,—be he physician, artist, or artisan,—
who does and produces something for us, we gladly
## p. 336 (#384) ############################################
33<S HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
pay as highly as we can, often a fee beyond oar
means. On the other hand, we pay the unknown
as low a price as possible; here is a contest in which
every one struggles and makes others struggle for a
foot's breadth of land. In the work of the known
there is something that cannot be bought, the senti-
ment and ingenuity put into his work for our own
sake. We think we cannot better express our sense
of obligation than by a sort of sacrifice on our part.
—The heaviest tax is the tax of homage. The more
competition prevails, the more we buy for the un-
known and work for the unknown,the lowerdoes this
tax become, whereas it is really the standard for the
loftiness of man's spiritual intercourse.
284.
The Means towards Genuine Peace. —No
government will nowadays admit that it maintains
an army in order to satisfy occasionally its passion
for conquest. The army is said to serve only
defensive purposes. This morality, which justifies
self-defence, is called in as the government's advo-
cate. This means, however, reserving morality for
ourselves and immorality for our neighbour, because
he must be thought eager for attack and conquest
if our state is forced to consider means of self-
defence. —At the same time, by our explanation of
our need of an army (because he denies the lust of
attack just as our state does, and ostensibly also
maintains his army for defensive reasons), we pro-
claim him a hypocrite and cunning criminal, who
would fain seize by surprise, without any fighting,
## p. 337 (#385) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 337
a harmless and unwary victim. In this attitude all
states face each other to-day. They presuppose
evil intentions on their neighbour's part and good
intentions on their own. This hypothesis, however,
is an inhuman notion, as bad as and worse than
war. Nay, at bottom it is a challenge and motive
to war, foisting as it does upon the neighbouring
state the charge of immorality, and thus provoking
hostile intentions and acts. The doctrine of the
army as a means of self-defence must be abjured
as completely as the lust of conquest. Perhaps a
memorable day will come when a nation renowned
in wars and victories, distinguished by the highest
development of military order and intelligence, and
accustomed to make the heaviest sacrifice to these
objects, will voluntarily exclaim, "We will break
our swords," and will destroy its whole military
system, lock, stock, and barrel. Making ourselves
defenceless (after having been the most strongly
defended) from a loftiness of sentiment—that is the
means towards genuine peace, which must always
rest upon a pacific disposition. The so-called armed
peace that prevails at present in all countries is a
sign of a bellicose disposition, of a disposition that
trusts neither itself nor its neighbour, and, partly
from hate, partly from fear, refuses to lay down its
weapons. Better to perish than to hate and fear,
and twice as far better to perish than to make one-
self hated and feared—this must some day become
the supreme maxim of every political community! —
Our liberal representatives of the people, as is well
known, have not the time for reflection on the nature
of humanity, or else they would know that they are
## p. 338 (#386) ############################################
338 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
working in vain when they work for "a gradual
diminution of the military burdens. " Onthe contrary,
when the distress of these burdens is greatest, the
sort of God who alone can help here will be nearest.
The tree of military glory can only be destroyed at
one swoop, with one stroke of lightning. But, as
you know, lightning comes from the cloud and from
above.
285.
Whether Property can be squared with
J USTICE. —When the injustice of property is strongly
felt (and the hand of the great clock is once more at
this place), we formulate two methods of relieving
this injustice: either an equal distribution, or an
abolition of private possession and a return to State
ownership. The latter method is especially dear to
the hearts of our Socialists, who are angry with that
primitive Jew for saying, "Thou shalt not steal. "
In their view the eighth* commandment should
rather run, "Thou shalt not possess. "—The former
method was frequently tried in antiquity, always
indeed on a small scale, and yet with poor success.
From this failure we too may learn. "Equal plots
of land" is easily enough said, but how much
bitterness is aroused by the necessary division and
separation, by the loss of time-honoured possessions,
how much piety is wounded and sacrificed! We
uproot the foundation of morality when we uproot
boundary-stones. Again, how much fresh bitter-
ness among the new owners, how much envy and
looking askance! For there have never been two
* The original, by a curious slip, has "seventh. "—Tr.
## p. 339 (#387) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 339
really equal plots of land, and if there were, man's
envy of his neighbour would prevent him from
believing in their equality. And how long would
this equality, unhealthy and poisoned at the very
roots, endure? In a few generations, by inherit-
ance, here one plot would come to five owners, there
five plots to one. Even supposing that men ac-
quiesced in such abuses through the enactment of
stern laws of inheritance, the same equal plots
would indeed exist, but there would also be needy
malcontents, owning nothing but dislike of their
kinsmen and neighbours, and longing for a general
upheaval. —If, however, by the second method we
try to restore ownership to the community and make
the individual but a temporary tenant, we interfere
with agriculture. For man is opposed to all that is
only a transitory possession, unblessed with his own
care and sacrifice. With such property he behaves
in freebooter fashion, as robber or as worthless
spendthrift. When Plato declares that self-seeking
would be removed with the abolition of property,
we may answer him that, if self-seeking be taken
away, man will no longer possess the four cardinal
virtues either; as we must say that the most deadly
plague could not injure mankind so terribly as if
vanity were one day to disappear. Without vanity
and self-seeking what are human virtues? By this
I am far from meaning that these virtues are but
varied names and masks for these two qualities.
Plato's Utopian refrain, which is still sung by
Socialists, rests upon a deficient knowledge of men.
He lacked the historical science of moral emotions,
the insight into the origin of the good and useful
## p. 340 (#388) ############################################
34© HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
characteristics of the human soul. He believed, like
all antiquity, in good and evil as in black and white
—that is to say, in a radical difference between good
and bad men and good and bad qualities. —In order
that property may henceforth inspire more con-
fidence and become more moral, we should keep
open all the paths of work for small fortunes, but
should prevent the effortless and sudden acquisition of
wealth. Accordingly,weshould take all thebranches
of transport and trade which favour the accumu-
lation of large fortunes—especially, therefore, the
money market—out of the hands of private persons
or private companies, and look upon those who own
too much, just as upon those who own nothing, as
types fraught with danger to the community.
286.
The Value of Labour. —If we try to determine
the value of labour by the amount of time, industry,
good or bad will, constraint, inventiveness or lazi-
ness, honesty or make-believe bestowed upon it, the
valuation can never be a just one. For the whole
personality would have to be thrown into the scale,
and this is impossible. Here the motto is, "Judge
not! " But after all the cry for justice is the cry we
now hear from those who are dissatisfied with the
present valuation of labour. If we reflect further we
find every person non-responsible for his product, the
labour; hence merit can never be derived therefrom,
and every labour is as good or as bad as it must be
through this or that necessaryconcatenation of forces
and weaknesses, abilities and desires. The worker
## p. 341 (#389) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 341
is not at liberty to say whether he shall work or not,
or to decide how he shall work. Only the stand-
points of usefulness, wider and narrower, have created
the valuation of labour. What we at present call
justice does very well in this sphere as a highly
refined utility, which does not only consider the
moment and exploit the immediate opportunity, but
looks to the permanence of all conditions, and thus
also keeps in view the well-being of the worker, his
physical and spiritual contentment: in order that he
and his posterity may work well for our posterity
and become trustworthy for longer periods than the
individual span of human life. The exploitation of
the worker was, as we now understand, a piece of
folly, a robbery at the expense of the future, a jeo-
pardisation of society. We almost have the war now,
and in any case the expense of maintaining peace,
of concluding treaties and winning confidence, will
henceforth be very great, because the folly of the
exploiters was very great and long-lasting.
287.
Of the Study of the Social Body. —The
worst drawback for the modern student of economics
and political science in Europe, and especially in
Germany, is that the actual conditions, instead of
exemplifying rules, illustrate exceptions or stages of
transition and extinction. We must therefore learn
to look beyond actually existing conditions and, for
example, turn our eyes to distant North America,
where we can still contemplate and investigate, if we
will, the initial and normal movement of the social
## p. 342 (#390) ############################################
342 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
body. In Germany such a study requires arduous
and historical research, or, as I have suggested, a
telescope.
288.
How far Machinery Humiliates. —Machin-
ery is impersonal; it robs the piece of work of its
pride, of the individual merits and defects that cling
to all work that is not machine-made—in other words,
of its bit of humanity. Formerly, all buying from
handicraftsmen meant a mark of distinction for their
personalities, with whose productions people sur-
rounded themselves. Furniture and dress accord-
ingly became the symbols of mutual valuation and
personal connection. Nowadays, on the other hand,
we seem to live in the midst of anonymous and im-
personal serfdom. —We must not buy the facilita-
tion of labour too dear.
289.
Century-old Quarantine. —Democratic in-
stitutions are centres of quarantine against the old
plague of tyrannical desires. As such they are ex-
tremely useful and extremely tedious.
290.
The Most Dangerous Partisan. —The most
dangerous partisan is he whose defection would in-
volve the ruin of the whole party—in other words,
the best partisan.
## p. 343 (#391) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 343
291.
Destiny and the Stomach. —A piece more or
less of bread and butter in the jockey's body is oc-
casionally the decisive factor in races and bets, and
thus in the good and bad luck of thousands. —So
long as the destiny of nations depends upon diplo-
mats, the stomachs of diplomats will always be the
object of patriotic misgivings. Quousque tandem . .
292.
The Victory of Democracy. —All political
powers nowadays attempt to exploit the fear of
Socialism for their own strengthening. Yet in the
long run democracy alone gains the advantage, for
all parties are now compelled to flatter " the masses"
and grant them facilities and liberties of all kinds,
with the result that the masses finally become omni-
potent. The masses are as far as possible removed
from Socialism as a doctrine of altering the acquisi-
tion of property. I f once they get the steering-wheel
into their hands, through great majorities in their
Parliaments, they will attack with progressive taxa-
tion the whole dominant system of capitalists, mer-
chants, and financiers, and will in fact slowly create
a middle class which may forget Socialism like a
disease that has been overcome. —The practical re-
sult of this increasing democratisation will next be
a European league of nations, in which each indi-
vidual nation, delimited by the proper geographical
frontiers, has the position of a canton with its separ-
ate rights. Small account will be taken of the
## p. 344 (#392) ############################################
344 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
historic memories of previously existing rduous
because the pious affection for these memcgsted a
be gradually uprooted under the democratic'rL6i . -*. . . . ,
with all its craze for novelty and experiment. The
corrections of frontiers that will prove necessary will
be so carried out as to serve the interests of the great
cantons and at the same time that of the whole federa-
tion, but not that of any venerable memories. To
find the standpoints for these corrections will be the
task of future diplomats, who will have to be at the
same time students of civilisation, agriculturists, and
commercial experts, with no armies but motives and
utilities at their back. Then only will foreign and
home politics be inseparably connected, whereas
to-day the latter follows its haughty dictator, and
gleans in sorry baskets the stubble that is left over
from the harvest of the former.
293-
Goal and Means of Democracy. —Democ-
racy tries to create and guarantee independence for
as many as possible in their opinions, way of life,
and occupation. For this purpose democracy must
withhold the political suffrage both from those who
have nothing and from those who are really rich, as
being the two intolerable classes of men. At the
removal of these classes it must always work, be-
cause they are continually calling its task in ques-
tion. In the same way democracy must prevent
all measures that seem to aim at party organisation.
For the three great foes of independence, in that
threefold sense, are the have-nots, the rich, and the
## p. 345 (#393) ############################################
1 THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 345
:ies. —I speak of democracy as of a thing to
e. What at present goes by that name is dis-
Pv. ^uished from older forms of government only by
the fact that it drives with new horses; the roads
and the wheels are the same as of yore. —Has the
danger really become less with these conveyances of
the commonwealth?
294.
Discretion and Success. —That great quality
of discretion, which is fundamentally the virtue of
virtues, their ancestress and queen, has in common
life by no means always success on its side. The
wooer would find himself deceived if he had wooed
that virtue only for the sake of success. For it
is rated by practical people as suspicious, and is
confused with cunning and hypocrisy: he who
obviously lacks discretion, the man who quickly
grasps and sometimes misses his grasp, has pre-
judice on his side—he is an honest, trustworthy
fellow. Practical people, accordingly, do not like
the prudent man, thinking he is to them a danger.
Moreover, we often assume the prudent man to be
anxious, preoccupied, pedantic—unpractical, butter-
fly people find him uncomfortable, because he does
not live in their happy-go-lucky way, without
thinking of actions and duties; he appears among
them as their embodied conscience, and the bright
day is dimmed to their eyes before his gaze. Thus
when success and popularity fail him, he may often
say by way of private consolation, "So high are
the taxes you have to pay for the possession of the
## p. 346 (#394) ############################################
346 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
most precious of human commodities—still it is
worth the price! "
295-
Et in Arcadia Ego. — I looked down, over
waves of hills, to a milky-green lake, through firs
and pines austere with age; rocky crags of all
shapes about me, the soil gay with flowers and
grasses. A herd of cattle moved, stretched, and
expanded itself before me; single cows and groups
in the distance, in the clearest evening light, hard
by the forest of pines; others nearer and darker;
all in calm and eventide contentment. My watch
pointed to half-past six. The bull of the herd had
stepped into the white foaming brook, and went
forward slowly, now striving against, now giving
way to his tempestuous course; thus, no doubt, he
took his sort of fierce pleasure. Two dark brown
beings, of Bergamasque origin, tended the herd, the
girl dressed almost like a boy. On the left, over-
hanging cliffs and fields of snow above broad belts
of woodland; to the right, two enormous ice-covered
peaks, high above me, shimmering in the veil of
the sunny haze—all large, silent, and bright. The
beauty of the whole was awe-inspiring and induced
to a mute worship of the moment and its revelation.
Unconsciously, as if nothing could be more natural,
you peopled this pure, clear world of light (which
had no trace of yearning, of expectancy, of looking
forward or backward) with Greek heroes. You felt
it all as Poussin and his school felt—at once heroic
and idyllic. —So individual men too have lived, con-
stantly feeling themselves in the world and the
## p. 347 (#395) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 347
world in themselves, and among them one of the
greatest men, the inventor of a heroico-idyllic form
of philosophy—Epicurus.
296.
Counting and Measuring. —The art of see-
ing many things, of weighing one with another, of
reckoning one thing with another and constructing
from them a rapid conclusion, a fairly correct sum
—that goes to make a great politician or general
or merchant. This quality is, in fact, a power of
speedy mental calculation. The art of seeing one
thing alone, of finding therein the sole motive for
action, the guiding principle of all other action,
goes to make the hero and also the fanatic. This
quality means a dexterity in measuring with one
scale.
297.
Not TO See TOO SOON. —As long as we undergo
some experience, we must give ourselves up to the
experience and shut our eyes—in other words, not
become observers of what we are undergoing. For
to observe would disturb good digestion of the ex-
perience, and instead of wisdom we should gain noth-
ing but dyspepsia.
298.
From the Practice of the Wise. —To become
wise we must will to undergo certain experiences,
and accordingly leap into their jaws. This, it is
true, is very dangerous. Many a "sage" has been
eaten up in the process.
## p. 348 (#396) ############################################
348 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
299.
Exhaustion of the Intellect.
—Our occa-
sional coldness and indifference towards people,
which is imputed to us as hardness and defect of
character, is often only an exhaustion of the in-
tellect . In this state other men are to us, as we are
to ourselves, tedious or immaterial.
300.
"The One Thing Needful. "—If we are clever,
the one thing we need is to have joy in our hearts.
"Ah," adds some one, "if we are clever, the best
thing we can do is to be wise. "
301.
A SIgN OF LOVE. —Some one said, " There are
two persons about whom I have never thought
deeply. That is a sign of my love for them. "
302.
How we Seek to Improve Bad Arguments.
—Many a man adds a bit of his personality to his
bad arguments, as if they would thus go better and
change into straight and good arguments. In the
same way, players at skittles, even after a throw,
try to give a direction to the ball by turns and
gestures.
303-
HONESTy. —It is but a small thing to be a pattern
sort of man with regard to rights and property—for
^
## p. 349 (#397) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 349
instance (to name trifling points, which of course
give a better proof of this sort of pattern nature
than great examples), if as a boy one never steals
fruit from another's orchard, and as a man never
walks on unmown fields. It is but little; you are
then still only a " law-abiding person," with just that
degree of morality of which a " society," a group of
human beings, is capable.
304-
"Man ! "—What is the vanity of the vainest in-
dividual as compared with the vanity which the
most modest person feels when he thinks of his
position in nature and in the world as " Man! "
305-
The Most Necessary Gymnastic. —Through
deficiency in self-control in small matters a similar
deficiency on great occasions slowly arises. Every
Uay on which we have not at least once denied
ourselves some trifle is turned to bad use and a
danger to the next day. This gymnastic is indis-
pensable if we wish to maintain the joy of being
our own master.
306.
Losing Ourselves. —When we have first found
ourselves, we must understand how from time to
t me to lose ourselves and then to find ourselves
again. —This is true on the assumption that we are
thinkers. A thinker finds it a drawback always to
be tied to one person.
,
## p. 350 (#398) ############################################
350 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
307-
When it is Necessary to Part. —You must,
for a time at least, part from that which you want
to know and measure. Only when you have left a
city do you see how high its towers rise above its
houses.
308.
At Noontide. —He to whom an active and
stormy morning of life is allotted, at the noontide
of life feels his soul overcome by a strange longing
for a rest that may last for months and years.
All grows silent around him, voices sound farther
and farther in the distance, the sun shines straight
down upon him. On a hidden woodland sward
he sees the great God Pan sleeping, and with Pan
Nature seems to him to have gone to sleep with
an expression of eternity on their faces. He wants
nothing, he troubles about nothing; his heart stands
still, only his eye lives. It is a death with waking
eyes. Then man sees much that he never saw be-
fore, and, so far as his eye can reach, all is woven
into and as it were buried in a net of light. He
feels happy, but it is a heavy, very heavy kind
of happiness. —Then at last the wind stirs in the
trees, noontide is over, life carries him away again,
life with its blind eyes, and its tempestuous retinue
behind it — desire, illusion, oblivion, enjoyment,
destruction, decay. And so comes evening, more
stormy and more active than was even the morn-
ing. —To the really active man these prolonged
phases of cognition seem almost uncanny and mor-
bid, but not unpleasant.
V
## p. 351 (#399) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 351
309-
To Beware of One's Portrait-Painter. —A
great painter, who in a portrait has revealed and put
on canvas the fullest expression and look of which a
man is capable, will almost always think, when he
sees the man later in real life, that he is only look-
ing at a caricature.
310.
The Two Principles of the New Life. —
First Principle: to arrange one's life on the most
secure and tangible basis, not as hitherto upon the
most distant, undetermined, and cloudy foundation.
Second Principle: to establish the rank of the
nearest and nearer things, and of the more and less
secure, before one arranges one's life and directs it
to a final end.
3"-
Dangerous Irritability. —Talented men who
are at the same time idle will always appear some-
what irritated when one of their friends has accom-
plished a thorough piece of work. Their jealousy
is awakened, they are ashamed of their own lazi-
ness, or rather, they fear that their active friend will
now despise them even more than before. In such
a mood they criticise the new achievement, and, to
the utter astonishment of the author, their criticism
becomes a revenge.
312.
Destructions of Illusions. — Illusions are
certainly expensive amusements; but the destruc-
## p. 352 (#400) ############################################
352 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
tion of illusions is still more expensive, if looked
upon as an amusement, as it undoubtedly is by some
people.
313-
The Monotone of the " Sage. "—Cows some-
times have a look of wondering which stops short
on the path to questioning. In the eye of the
higher intelligence, on the other hand, the nil admi-
rari is spread out like the monotony of the cloud-
less sky.
314.
NOT to be III TOO Long. —We should beware
of being ill too long. The lookers-on become im-
patient of their customary duty of showing sym-
pathy, because they find it too much trouble to
maintain the appearance of this emotion for any
length of time. Then they immediately pass to
suspicion of our character, with the conclusion:
"You deserve to be ill, and we need no longer be
at pains to show our sympathy. "
315-
A Hint to Enthusiasts. — He who likes to
be carried away, and would fain be carried on high,
must beware lest he become too heavy. For in-
stance, he must not learn much, and especially not
let himself be crammed with science. Science
makes men ponderous—take care, ye enthusiasts!
316.
Knowledge of how to Surprise Oneself.
—He who would see himself as he is, must know
## p. 353 (#401) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 353
how to surprise himself, torch in hand. For with
the mind it is as with the body: whoever is ac-
customed to look at himself in the glass forgets
his ugliness, and only recognises it again by means
of the portrait-painter. Yet he even grows used
to the picture and forgets his ugliness all over
again. —Herein we see the universal law that man
cannot endure unalterable ugliness, unless for a
moment. He forgets or denies it in all cases. —The
moralists must reckon upon that "moment" for
bringing forward their truths.
317-
Opinions and Fish. —We are possessors of our
opinions as of fish—that is, in so far as we are pos-
sessors of a fish pond. We must go fishing and
have luck—then we have our fish, our opinions. I
speak here of live opinions, of live fish. Others are
content to possess a cabinet of fossils—and, in their
head, "convictions. "
318.
Signs of Freedom and Servitude. — To
satisfy one's needs so far as possible oneself, even
if imperfectly, is the path towards freedom in mind
and personality. To satisfy many even superfluous
needs, and that as fully as possible, is a training
for servitude. The Sophist Hippias, who himself
earned and made all that he wore within and with-
out, is the representative of the highest freedom of
mind and personality. It does not matter whether
## p. 354 (#402) ############################################
354 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
all is done equally well and perfectly—pride can
repair the damaged places.
319-
Belief in Oneself. —In our times we mistrust
every one who believes in himself. Formerly this
was enough to make people believe in one. The
recipe for finding faith now runs: "Spare not thy-
self! In order to set thy opinion in a credible light,
thou must first set fire to thy own hut! "
320.
yS At Once Richer and Poorer. —I know a
man who accustomed himself even in childhood
to think well of the intellectuality of mankind—in
other words, of their real devotion as regards things
of the intellect, their unselfish preference for that
which is recognised as true—but who had at the
same time a modest or even depreciatory view of
his own brain (judgment, memory, presence of mind,
imagination). He set no value on himself when
he compared himself with others. Now in the
course of years he was compelled, first once and
then in a hundred ways, to revise this verdict. One
would have thought he would be thoroughly satis-
fied and delighted. Such, in fact, was to some ex-
tent the case, but, as he once said, "Yet a bitterness
of the deepest dye is mingled with my feeling, such
as I did not know in earlier life; for since I learnt
to value men and myself more correctly, my intellect
seems to me of less use. I scarcely think I can
now do any good at all with it, because the minds
## p. 355 (#403) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 355
of others cannot understand the good. I now
always see before me the frightful gulf between
those who could give help and those who need
help. So I am troubled by the misfortune of having
my intellect to myself and of being forced to enjoy
it alone so far as it can give any enjoyment. But
to give is more blessed than to possess, and what is
the richest man in the solitude of a desert? " *
321.
How WE SHOULD Attack. — The reasons for
which men believe or do not believe are in very few
people as strong as they might be. As a rule, in
order to shake a belief it is far from necessary to use
the heaviest weapon of attack. Many attain their ob-
ject by merely making the attack with some noise—
in fact, pop-guns are often enough. In dealing with
very vain persons, the semblance of a strong attack
is enough. They think they are being taken quite
seriously, and readily give way.
322.
DEATH. —Through the certain prospect of death
a precious, fragrant drop of frivolity might be mixed
with every life—and now, you singular druggist-
souls, you have made of death a drop of poison,
unpleasant to taste, which makes the whole of life
hideous.
323-
Repentance. —Never allow repentance free play,
* Clearly autobiographical. Nietzsche, like all great men,
passed through a period of modesty and doubt. —Tr.
## p. 356 (#404) ############################################
356 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAX.
but say at once to yourself, "That would be add-
ing a second piece of folly to the first. " If you
have worked evil, you must bethink yourself of
doing good. If you are punished for your actions,
submit to the punishment with the feeling that by
this very submission you are somehow doing good,
in that you are deterring others from falling into
the same error. Every malefactor who is punished
has a ,right to consider himself a benefactor to
mankind.
324-
Becoming a Thinker. —How can any one be-
come a thinker if he does not spend at least a third
part of the day without passions, men, and books?
325.
The Best Remedy. —A little health on and off
is the best remedy for the invalid.
326.
DON'T TOUCH. —There are dreadful people who,
instead of solving a problem, complicate it for those
who deal with it and make it harder to solve. *
Whoever does not know how to hit the nail on the
head should be entreated not to hit the nail at all.
327.
Forgetting Nature. — We speak of Nature,
and, in doing so, forget ourselves: we ourselves are
* Nietzsche here alludes to his own countrymen. —Te.
## p. 357 (#405) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 357
Nature, quand mime. — Consequently, Nature is
something quite different from what we feel on hear-
ing her name pronounced.
328.
Profundity and Ennui. —In the case of pro-
found men, as of deep wells, it takes a long time
before anything that is thrown into them reaches
the bottom. The spectators, who generally do not
wait long enough, too readily look upon such a man
as callous and hard—or even as boring.
329-
When it is Time to Vow Fidelity to One-
self. —We sometimes go astray in an intellectual
direction which does not correspond to our talents.
For a time we struggle heroically against wind and
tide, really against ourselves; but finally we become
weary and we pant. What we accomplish gives us
no real pleasure, since we think that we have paid too
heavy a price for these successes. We even despair
of our productivity, of our future, perhaps in the
midst of victory. —Finally, finally we turn back—and
then the wind swells our sails and bears us into our
smooth water. What bliss! How certain of victory
we feel! Only now do we know what we are and
what we intend, and now we vow fidelity to our-
selves, and have a right to do so—as men that know.
330.
Weather Prophets. —Just as the clouds reveal
to us the direction of the wind high above our
## p. 358 (#406) ############################################
358 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
heads, so the lightest and freest spirits give signs of
future weather by their course. The wind in the
valley and the market-place opinions of to-day have
no significance for the future, but only for the past.
331-
Continual Acceleration. —Those who begin
slowly and find it hard to become familiar with
a subject, sometimes acquire afterwards the quality
of continual acceleration—so that in the end no one
knows where the current will take them.
332.
The Three Good Things. —Greatness, calm,
sunlight—these three embrace all that a thinker
desires and also demands of himself: his hopes
and duties, his claims in the intellectual and moral
sphere, nay even in his daily manner of life and
the scenic background of his residence. Corre-
sponding to these three things are, firstly thoughts
that exalt, secondly thoughts that soothe, and
thirdly thoughts that illuminate—but, fourthly,
thoughts that share in all these three qualities, in
which all earthly things are transfigured. This is
the kingdom of the great trinity of joy.
333-
Dying FOR " Truth. "—We should not let our-
selves be burnt for our opinions—we are not so cer-
tain of them as all that. But we might let ourselves
be burnt for the right of possessing and changing
our opinions.
## p. 359 (#407) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
359
334.
MARKET VALUE. —If we wish to pass exactly
for what we are, we must be something that has its
market value. As, however, only objects in com-
mon use have a market value, this desire is the
consequence either of shrewd modesty or of stupid
immodesty.
335.
MORAL FOR BUILDERS. —We must remove the
scaffolding when the house has been built.
336.
SOPHOCLEANISM. —Who poured more water into
wine than the Greeks? Sobriety and grace com-
bined—that was the aristocratic privilege of the
Athenian in the time of Sophocles and after. Imi-
tate that whoever can! In life and in work!
there
337.
HEROISM. — The heroic consists in doing some-
thing great (or in nobly not doing something) with-
out feeling oneself to be in competition with or
before others.
tangible profit; it would be too little used and
too often stand idle. But as to what is most sale-
able, the public, as above said, decides: it must be
the most exchangeable—in other words, the thing
that appears good and also appears cheap. Thus
in the domain of labour our motto must also hold
good: "More respect for them that know! "
281.
The Danger of Kings. —Democracy has it in
its power, without any violent means, and only by
a lawful pressure steadily exerted, to make kingship
and emperorship hollow, until only a zero remains,
perhaps with the significance of every zero in that,
while nothing in itself, it multiplies a number ten-
fold if placed on the right side. Kingship and em-
perorship would remain a gorgeous ornament upon
the simple and appropriate dress of democracy, a
beautiful superfluity that democracy allows itself,
a relic of all the historically venerable, primitive or-
naments, nay the symbol of history itself, and in
this unique position a highly effective thing if, as
above said, it does not stand alone, but is put on the
right side. —In order to avoid the danger of this
## p. 335 (#383) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 335
nullification, kings hold by their teeth to their dig-
nity as war-lords. To this end they need wars, or
in other words exceptional circumstances, in which
that slow, lawful pressure of the democratic forces
is relaxed.
282.
The Teacher a Necessary Evil. — Let us
have as few people as possible between the pro-
ductive minds and the hungry and recipient minds!
The middlemen almost unconsciously adulterate the
food which they supply. For their work as middle-
men they want too high a fee for themselves, and
this is drawn from the original, productive spirits
—namely, interest, admiration, leisure, money, and
other advantages. —Accordingly, we should always
look upon the teacher as a necessary evil, just like
the merchant; as an evil that we should make as
small as possible. —Perhaps the prevailing distress
in Germany has its main cause in the fact that too
many wish to live and live well by trade (in other
words, desiring as far as possible to diminish prices
for the producer and raise prices for the consumer,
and thus to profit by the greatest possible loss to
both). In the same way, we may certainly trace a
main cause of the prevailing intellectual poverty in
the superabundance of teachers. It is because of
teachers that so little is learnt, and that so badly.
283.
The Tax of Homage. —Him whom we know
and honour,—be he physician, artist, or artisan,—
who does and produces something for us, we gladly
## p. 336 (#384) ############################################
33<S HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
pay as highly as we can, often a fee beyond oar
means. On the other hand, we pay the unknown
as low a price as possible; here is a contest in which
every one struggles and makes others struggle for a
foot's breadth of land. In the work of the known
there is something that cannot be bought, the senti-
ment and ingenuity put into his work for our own
sake. We think we cannot better express our sense
of obligation than by a sort of sacrifice on our part.
—The heaviest tax is the tax of homage. The more
competition prevails, the more we buy for the un-
known and work for the unknown,the lowerdoes this
tax become, whereas it is really the standard for the
loftiness of man's spiritual intercourse.
284.
The Means towards Genuine Peace. —No
government will nowadays admit that it maintains
an army in order to satisfy occasionally its passion
for conquest. The army is said to serve only
defensive purposes. This morality, which justifies
self-defence, is called in as the government's advo-
cate. This means, however, reserving morality for
ourselves and immorality for our neighbour, because
he must be thought eager for attack and conquest
if our state is forced to consider means of self-
defence. —At the same time, by our explanation of
our need of an army (because he denies the lust of
attack just as our state does, and ostensibly also
maintains his army for defensive reasons), we pro-
claim him a hypocrite and cunning criminal, who
would fain seize by surprise, without any fighting,
## p. 337 (#385) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 337
a harmless and unwary victim. In this attitude all
states face each other to-day. They presuppose
evil intentions on their neighbour's part and good
intentions on their own. This hypothesis, however,
is an inhuman notion, as bad as and worse than
war. Nay, at bottom it is a challenge and motive
to war, foisting as it does upon the neighbouring
state the charge of immorality, and thus provoking
hostile intentions and acts. The doctrine of the
army as a means of self-defence must be abjured
as completely as the lust of conquest. Perhaps a
memorable day will come when a nation renowned
in wars and victories, distinguished by the highest
development of military order and intelligence, and
accustomed to make the heaviest sacrifice to these
objects, will voluntarily exclaim, "We will break
our swords," and will destroy its whole military
system, lock, stock, and barrel. Making ourselves
defenceless (after having been the most strongly
defended) from a loftiness of sentiment—that is the
means towards genuine peace, which must always
rest upon a pacific disposition. The so-called armed
peace that prevails at present in all countries is a
sign of a bellicose disposition, of a disposition that
trusts neither itself nor its neighbour, and, partly
from hate, partly from fear, refuses to lay down its
weapons. Better to perish than to hate and fear,
and twice as far better to perish than to make one-
self hated and feared—this must some day become
the supreme maxim of every political community! —
Our liberal representatives of the people, as is well
known, have not the time for reflection on the nature
of humanity, or else they would know that they are
## p. 338 (#386) ############################################
338 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
working in vain when they work for "a gradual
diminution of the military burdens. " Onthe contrary,
when the distress of these burdens is greatest, the
sort of God who alone can help here will be nearest.
The tree of military glory can only be destroyed at
one swoop, with one stroke of lightning. But, as
you know, lightning comes from the cloud and from
above.
285.
Whether Property can be squared with
J USTICE. —When the injustice of property is strongly
felt (and the hand of the great clock is once more at
this place), we formulate two methods of relieving
this injustice: either an equal distribution, or an
abolition of private possession and a return to State
ownership. The latter method is especially dear to
the hearts of our Socialists, who are angry with that
primitive Jew for saying, "Thou shalt not steal. "
In their view the eighth* commandment should
rather run, "Thou shalt not possess. "—The former
method was frequently tried in antiquity, always
indeed on a small scale, and yet with poor success.
From this failure we too may learn. "Equal plots
of land" is easily enough said, but how much
bitterness is aroused by the necessary division and
separation, by the loss of time-honoured possessions,
how much piety is wounded and sacrificed! We
uproot the foundation of morality when we uproot
boundary-stones. Again, how much fresh bitter-
ness among the new owners, how much envy and
looking askance! For there have never been two
* The original, by a curious slip, has "seventh. "—Tr.
## p. 339 (#387) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 339
really equal plots of land, and if there were, man's
envy of his neighbour would prevent him from
believing in their equality. And how long would
this equality, unhealthy and poisoned at the very
roots, endure? In a few generations, by inherit-
ance, here one plot would come to five owners, there
five plots to one. Even supposing that men ac-
quiesced in such abuses through the enactment of
stern laws of inheritance, the same equal plots
would indeed exist, but there would also be needy
malcontents, owning nothing but dislike of their
kinsmen and neighbours, and longing for a general
upheaval. —If, however, by the second method we
try to restore ownership to the community and make
the individual but a temporary tenant, we interfere
with agriculture. For man is opposed to all that is
only a transitory possession, unblessed with his own
care and sacrifice. With such property he behaves
in freebooter fashion, as robber or as worthless
spendthrift. When Plato declares that self-seeking
would be removed with the abolition of property,
we may answer him that, if self-seeking be taken
away, man will no longer possess the four cardinal
virtues either; as we must say that the most deadly
plague could not injure mankind so terribly as if
vanity were one day to disappear. Without vanity
and self-seeking what are human virtues? By this
I am far from meaning that these virtues are but
varied names and masks for these two qualities.
Plato's Utopian refrain, which is still sung by
Socialists, rests upon a deficient knowledge of men.
He lacked the historical science of moral emotions,
the insight into the origin of the good and useful
## p. 340 (#388) ############################################
34© HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
characteristics of the human soul. He believed, like
all antiquity, in good and evil as in black and white
—that is to say, in a radical difference between good
and bad men and good and bad qualities. —In order
that property may henceforth inspire more con-
fidence and become more moral, we should keep
open all the paths of work for small fortunes, but
should prevent the effortless and sudden acquisition of
wealth. Accordingly,weshould take all thebranches
of transport and trade which favour the accumu-
lation of large fortunes—especially, therefore, the
money market—out of the hands of private persons
or private companies, and look upon those who own
too much, just as upon those who own nothing, as
types fraught with danger to the community.
286.
The Value of Labour. —If we try to determine
the value of labour by the amount of time, industry,
good or bad will, constraint, inventiveness or lazi-
ness, honesty or make-believe bestowed upon it, the
valuation can never be a just one. For the whole
personality would have to be thrown into the scale,
and this is impossible. Here the motto is, "Judge
not! " But after all the cry for justice is the cry we
now hear from those who are dissatisfied with the
present valuation of labour. If we reflect further we
find every person non-responsible for his product, the
labour; hence merit can never be derived therefrom,
and every labour is as good or as bad as it must be
through this or that necessaryconcatenation of forces
and weaknesses, abilities and desires. The worker
## p. 341 (#389) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 341
is not at liberty to say whether he shall work or not,
or to decide how he shall work. Only the stand-
points of usefulness, wider and narrower, have created
the valuation of labour. What we at present call
justice does very well in this sphere as a highly
refined utility, which does not only consider the
moment and exploit the immediate opportunity, but
looks to the permanence of all conditions, and thus
also keeps in view the well-being of the worker, his
physical and spiritual contentment: in order that he
and his posterity may work well for our posterity
and become trustworthy for longer periods than the
individual span of human life. The exploitation of
the worker was, as we now understand, a piece of
folly, a robbery at the expense of the future, a jeo-
pardisation of society. We almost have the war now,
and in any case the expense of maintaining peace,
of concluding treaties and winning confidence, will
henceforth be very great, because the folly of the
exploiters was very great and long-lasting.
287.
Of the Study of the Social Body. —The
worst drawback for the modern student of economics
and political science in Europe, and especially in
Germany, is that the actual conditions, instead of
exemplifying rules, illustrate exceptions or stages of
transition and extinction. We must therefore learn
to look beyond actually existing conditions and, for
example, turn our eyes to distant North America,
where we can still contemplate and investigate, if we
will, the initial and normal movement of the social
## p. 342 (#390) ############################################
342 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
body. In Germany such a study requires arduous
and historical research, or, as I have suggested, a
telescope.
288.
How far Machinery Humiliates. —Machin-
ery is impersonal; it robs the piece of work of its
pride, of the individual merits and defects that cling
to all work that is not machine-made—in other words,
of its bit of humanity. Formerly, all buying from
handicraftsmen meant a mark of distinction for their
personalities, with whose productions people sur-
rounded themselves. Furniture and dress accord-
ingly became the symbols of mutual valuation and
personal connection. Nowadays, on the other hand,
we seem to live in the midst of anonymous and im-
personal serfdom. —We must not buy the facilita-
tion of labour too dear.
289.
Century-old Quarantine. —Democratic in-
stitutions are centres of quarantine against the old
plague of tyrannical desires. As such they are ex-
tremely useful and extremely tedious.
290.
The Most Dangerous Partisan. —The most
dangerous partisan is he whose defection would in-
volve the ruin of the whole party—in other words,
the best partisan.
## p. 343 (#391) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 343
291.
Destiny and the Stomach. —A piece more or
less of bread and butter in the jockey's body is oc-
casionally the decisive factor in races and bets, and
thus in the good and bad luck of thousands. —So
long as the destiny of nations depends upon diplo-
mats, the stomachs of diplomats will always be the
object of patriotic misgivings. Quousque tandem . .
292.
The Victory of Democracy. —All political
powers nowadays attempt to exploit the fear of
Socialism for their own strengthening. Yet in the
long run democracy alone gains the advantage, for
all parties are now compelled to flatter " the masses"
and grant them facilities and liberties of all kinds,
with the result that the masses finally become omni-
potent. The masses are as far as possible removed
from Socialism as a doctrine of altering the acquisi-
tion of property. I f once they get the steering-wheel
into their hands, through great majorities in their
Parliaments, they will attack with progressive taxa-
tion the whole dominant system of capitalists, mer-
chants, and financiers, and will in fact slowly create
a middle class which may forget Socialism like a
disease that has been overcome. —The practical re-
sult of this increasing democratisation will next be
a European league of nations, in which each indi-
vidual nation, delimited by the proper geographical
frontiers, has the position of a canton with its separ-
ate rights. Small account will be taken of the
## p. 344 (#392) ############################################
344 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
historic memories of previously existing rduous
because the pious affection for these memcgsted a
be gradually uprooted under the democratic'rL6i . -*. . . . ,
with all its craze for novelty and experiment. The
corrections of frontiers that will prove necessary will
be so carried out as to serve the interests of the great
cantons and at the same time that of the whole federa-
tion, but not that of any venerable memories. To
find the standpoints for these corrections will be the
task of future diplomats, who will have to be at the
same time students of civilisation, agriculturists, and
commercial experts, with no armies but motives and
utilities at their back. Then only will foreign and
home politics be inseparably connected, whereas
to-day the latter follows its haughty dictator, and
gleans in sorry baskets the stubble that is left over
from the harvest of the former.
293-
Goal and Means of Democracy. —Democ-
racy tries to create and guarantee independence for
as many as possible in their opinions, way of life,
and occupation. For this purpose democracy must
withhold the political suffrage both from those who
have nothing and from those who are really rich, as
being the two intolerable classes of men. At the
removal of these classes it must always work, be-
cause they are continually calling its task in ques-
tion. In the same way democracy must prevent
all measures that seem to aim at party organisation.
For the three great foes of independence, in that
threefold sense, are the have-nots, the rich, and the
## p. 345 (#393) ############################################
1 THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 345
:ies. —I speak of democracy as of a thing to
e. What at present goes by that name is dis-
Pv. ^uished from older forms of government only by
the fact that it drives with new horses; the roads
and the wheels are the same as of yore. —Has the
danger really become less with these conveyances of
the commonwealth?
294.
Discretion and Success. —That great quality
of discretion, which is fundamentally the virtue of
virtues, their ancestress and queen, has in common
life by no means always success on its side. The
wooer would find himself deceived if he had wooed
that virtue only for the sake of success. For it
is rated by practical people as suspicious, and is
confused with cunning and hypocrisy: he who
obviously lacks discretion, the man who quickly
grasps and sometimes misses his grasp, has pre-
judice on his side—he is an honest, trustworthy
fellow. Practical people, accordingly, do not like
the prudent man, thinking he is to them a danger.
Moreover, we often assume the prudent man to be
anxious, preoccupied, pedantic—unpractical, butter-
fly people find him uncomfortable, because he does
not live in their happy-go-lucky way, without
thinking of actions and duties; he appears among
them as their embodied conscience, and the bright
day is dimmed to their eyes before his gaze. Thus
when success and popularity fail him, he may often
say by way of private consolation, "So high are
the taxes you have to pay for the possession of the
## p. 346 (#394) ############################################
346 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
most precious of human commodities—still it is
worth the price! "
295-
Et in Arcadia Ego. — I looked down, over
waves of hills, to a milky-green lake, through firs
and pines austere with age; rocky crags of all
shapes about me, the soil gay with flowers and
grasses. A herd of cattle moved, stretched, and
expanded itself before me; single cows and groups
in the distance, in the clearest evening light, hard
by the forest of pines; others nearer and darker;
all in calm and eventide contentment. My watch
pointed to half-past six. The bull of the herd had
stepped into the white foaming brook, and went
forward slowly, now striving against, now giving
way to his tempestuous course; thus, no doubt, he
took his sort of fierce pleasure. Two dark brown
beings, of Bergamasque origin, tended the herd, the
girl dressed almost like a boy. On the left, over-
hanging cliffs and fields of snow above broad belts
of woodland; to the right, two enormous ice-covered
peaks, high above me, shimmering in the veil of
the sunny haze—all large, silent, and bright. The
beauty of the whole was awe-inspiring and induced
to a mute worship of the moment and its revelation.
Unconsciously, as if nothing could be more natural,
you peopled this pure, clear world of light (which
had no trace of yearning, of expectancy, of looking
forward or backward) with Greek heroes. You felt
it all as Poussin and his school felt—at once heroic
and idyllic. —So individual men too have lived, con-
stantly feeling themselves in the world and the
## p. 347 (#395) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 347
world in themselves, and among them one of the
greatest men, the inventor of a heroico-idyllic form
of philosophy—Epicurus.
296.
Counting and Measuring. —The art of see-
ing many things, of weighing one with another, of
reckoning one thing with another and constructing
from them a rapid conclusion, a fairly correct sum
—that goes to make a great politician or general
or merchant. This quality is, in fact, a power of
speedy mental calculation. The art of seeing one
thing alone, of finding therein the sole motive for
action, the guiding principle of all other action,
goes to make the hero and also the fanatic. This
quality means a dexterity in measuring with one
scale.
297.
Not TO See TOO SOON. —As long as we undergo
some experience, we must give ourselves up to the
experience and shut our eyes—in other words, not
become observers of what we are undergoing. For
to observe would disturb good digestion of the ex-
perience, and instead of wisdom we should gain noth-
ing but dyspepsia.
298.
From the Practice of the Wise. —To become
wise we must will to undergo certain experiences,
and accordingly leap into their jaws. This, it is
true, is very dangerous. Many a "sage" has been
eaten up in the process.
## p. 348 (#396) ############################################
348 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
299.
Exhaustion of the Intellect.
—Our occa-
sional coldness and indifference towards people,
which is imputed to us as hardness and defect of
character, is often only an exhaustion of the in-
tellect . In this state other men are to us, as we are
to ourselves, tedious or immaterial.
300.
"The One Thing Needful. "—If we are clever,
the one thing we need is to have joy in our hearts.
"Ah," adds some one, "if we are clever, the best
thing we can do is to be wise. "
301.
A SIgN OF LOVE. —Some one said, " There are
two persons about whom I have never thought
deeply. That is a sign of my love for them. "
302.
How we Seek to Improve Bad Arguments.
—Many a man adds a bit of his personality to his
bad arguments, as if they would thus go better and
change into straight and good arguments. In the
same way, players at skittles, even after a throw,
try to give a direction to the ball by turns and
gestures.
303-
HONESTy. —It is but a small thing to be a pattern
sort of man with regard to rights and property—for
^
## p. 349 (#397) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 349
instance (to name trifling points, which of course
give a better proof of this sort of pattern nature
than great examples), if as a boy one never steals
fruit from another's orchard, and as a man never
walks on unmown fields. It is but little; you are
then still only a " law-abiding person," with just that
degree of morality of which a " society," a group of
human beings, is capable.
304-
"Man ! "—What is the vanity of the vainest in-
dividual as compared with the vanity which the
most modest person feels when he thinks of his
position in nature and in the world as " Man! "
305-
The Most Necessary Gymnastic. —Through
deficiency in self-control in small matters a similar
deficiency on great occasions slowly arises. Every
Uay on which we have not at least once denied
ourselves some trifle is turned to bad use and a
danger to the next day. This gymnastic is indis-
pensable if we wish to maintain the joy of being
our own master.
306.
Losing Ourselves. —When we have first found
ourselves, we must understand how from time to
t me to lose ourselves and then to find ourselves
again. —This is true on the assumption that we are
thinkers. A thinker finds it a drawback always to
be tied to one person.
,
## p. 350 (#398) ############################################
350 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
307-
When it is Necessary to Part. —You must,
for a time at least, part from that which you want
to know and measure. Only when you have left a
city do you see how high its towers rise above its
houses.
308.
At Noontide. —He to whom an active and
stormy morning of life is allotted, at the noontide
of life feels his soul overcome by a strange longing
for a rest that may last for months and years.
All grows silent around him, voices sound farther
and farther in the distance, the sun shines straight
down upon him. On a hidden woodland sward
he sees the great God Pan sleeping, and with Pan
Nature seems to him to have gone to sleep with
an expression of eternity on their faces. He wants
nothing, he troubles about nothing; his heart stands
still, only his eye lives. It is a death with waking
eyes. Then man sees much that he never saw be-
fore, and, so far as his eye can reach, all is woven
into and as it were buried in a net of light. He
feels happy, but it is a heavy, very heavy kind
of happiness. —Then at last the wind stirs in the
trees, noontide is over, life carries him away again,
life with its blind eyes, and its tempestuous retinue
behind it — desire, illusion, oblivion, enjoyment,
destruction, decay. And so comes evening, more
stormy and more active than was even the morn-
ing. —To the really active man these prolonged
phases of cognition seem almost uncanny and mor-
bid, but not unpleasant.
V
## p. 351 (#399) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 351
309-
To Beware of One's Portrait-Painter. —A
great painter, who in a portrait has revealed and put
on canvas the fullest expression and look of which a
man is capable, will almost always think, when he
sees the man later in real life, that he is only look-
ing at a caricature.
310.
The Two Principles of the New Life. —
First Principle: to arrange one's life on the most
secure and tangible basis, not as hitherto upon the
most distant, undetermined, and cloudy foundation.
Second Principle: to establish the rank of the
nearest and nearer things, and of the more and less
secure, before one arranges one's life and directs it
to a final end.
3"-
Dangerous Irritability. —Talented men who
are at the same time idle will always appear some-
what irritated when one of their friends has accom-
plished a thorough piece of work. Their jealousy
is awakened, they are ashamed of their own lazi-
ness, or rather, they fear that their active friend will
now despise them even more than before. In such
a mood they criticise the new achievement, and, to
the utter astonishment of the author, their criticism
becomes a revenge.
312.
Destructions of Illusions. — Illusions are
certainly expensive amusements; but the destruc-
## p. 352 (#400) ############################################
352 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
tion of illusions is still more expensive, if looked
upon as an amusement, as it undoubtedly is by some
people.
313-
The Monotone of the " Sage. "—Cows some-
times have a look of wondering which stops short
on the path to questioning. In the eye of the
higher intelligence, on the other hand, the nil admi-
rari is spread out like the monotony of the cloud-
less sky.
314.
NOT to be III TOO Long. —We should beware
of being ill too long. The lookers-on become im-
patient of their customary duty of showing sym-
pathy, because they find it too much trouble to
maintain the appearance of this emotion for any
length of time. Then they immediately pass to
suspicion of our character, with the conclusion:
"You deserve to be ill, and we need no longer be
at pains to show our sympathy. "
315-
A Hint to Enthusiasts. — He who likes to
be carried away, and would fain be carried on high,
must beware lest he become too heavy. For in-
stance, he must not learn much, and especially not
let himself be crammed with science. Science
makes men ponderous—take care, ye enthusiasts!
316.
Knowledge of how to Surprise Oneself.
—He who would see himself as he is, must know
## p. 353 (#401) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 353
how to surprise himself, torch in hand. For with
the mind it is as with the body: whoever is ac-
customed to look at himself in the glass forgets
his ugliness, and only recognises it again by means
of the portrait-painter. Yet he even grows used
to the picture and forgets his ugliness all over
again. —Herein we see the universal law that man
cannot endure unalterable ugliness, unless for a
moment. He forgets or denies it in all cases. —The
moralists must reckon upon that "moment" for
bringing forward their truths.
317-
Opinions and Fish. —We are possessors of our
opinions as of fish—that is, in so far as we are pos-
sessors of a fish pond. We must go fishing and
have luck—then we have our fish, our opinions. I
speak here of live opinions, of live fish. Others are
content to possess a cabinet of fossils—and, in their
head, "convictions. "
318.
Signs of Freedom and Servitude. — To
satisfy one's needs so far as possible oneself, even
if imperfectly, is the path towards freedom in mind
and personality. To satisfy many even superfluous
needs, and that as fully as possible, is a training
for servitude. The Sophist Hippias, who himself
earned and made all that he wore within and with-
out, is the representative of the highest freedom of
mind and personality. It does not matter whether
## p. 354 (#402) ############################################
354 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
all is done equally well and perfectly—pride can
repair the damaged places.
319-
Belief in Oneself. —In our times we mistrust
every one who believes in himself. Formerly this
was enough to make people believe in one. The
recipe for finding faith now runs: "Spare not thy-
self! In order to set thy opinion in a credible light,
thou must first set fire to thy own hut! "
320.
yS At Once Richer and Poorer. —I know a
man who accustomed himself even in childhood
to think well of the intellectuality of mankind—in
other words, of their real devotion as regards things
of the intellect, their unselfish preference for that
which is recognised as true—but who had at the
same time a modest or even depreciatory view of
his own brain (judgment, memory, presence of mind,
imagination). He set no value on himself when
he compared himself with others. Now in the
course of years he was compelled, first once and
then in a hundred ways, to revise this verdict. One
would have thought he would be thoroughly satis-
fied and delighted. Such, in fact, was to some ex-
tent the case, but, as he once said, "Yet a bitterness
of the deepest dye is mingled with my feeling, such
as I did not know in earlier life; for since I learnt
to value men and myself more correctly, my intellect
seems to me of less use. I scarcely think I can
now do any good at all with it, because the minds
## p. 355 (#403) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 355
of others cannot understand the good. I now
always see before me the frightful gulf between
those who could give help and those who need
help. So I am troubled by the misfortune of having
my intellect to myself and of being forced to enjoy
it alone so far as it can give any enjoyment. But
to give is more blessed than to possess, and what is
the richest man in the solitude of a desert? " *
321.
How WE SHOULD Attack. — The reasons for
which men believe or do not believe are in very few
people as strong as they might be. As a rule, in
order to shake a belief it is far from necessary to use
the heaviest weapon of attack. Many attain their ob-
ject by merely making the attack with some noise—
in fact, pop-guns are often enough. In dealing with
very vain persons, the semblance of a strong attack
is enough. They think they are being taken quite
seriously, and readily give way.
322.
DEATH. —Through the certain prospect of death
a precious, fragrant drop of frivolity might be mixed
with every life—and now, you singular druggist-
souls, you have made of death a drop of poison,
unpleasant to taste, which makes the whole of life
hideous.
323-
Repentance. —Never allow repentance free play,
* Clearly autobiographical. Nietzsche, like all great men,
passed through a period of modesty and doubt. —Tr.
## p. 356 (#404) ############################################
356 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAX.
but say at once to yourself, "That would be add-
ing a second piece of folly to the first. " If you
have worked evil, you must bethink yourself of
doing good. If you are punished for your actions,
submit to the punishment with the feeling that by
this very submission you are somehow doing good,
in that you are deterring others from falling into
the same error. Every malefactor who is punished
has a ,right to consider himself a benefactor to
mankind.
324-
Becoming a Thinker. —How can any one be-
come a thinker if he does not spend at least a third
part of the day without passions, men, and books?
325.
The Best Remedy. —A little health on and off
is the best remedy for the invalid.
326.
DON'T TOUCH. —There are dreadful people who,
instead of solving a problem, complicate it for those
who deal with it and make it harder to solve. *
Whoever does not know how to hit the nail on the
head should be entreated not to hit the nail at all.
327.
Forgetting Nature. — We speak of Nature,
and, in doing so, forget ourselves: we ourselves are
* Nietzsche here alludes to his own countrymen. —Te.
## p. 357 (#405) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 357
Nature, quand mime. — Consequently, Nature is
something quite different from what we feel on hear-
ing her name pronounced.
328.
Profundity and Ennui. —In the case of pro-
found men, as of deep wells, it takes a long time
before anything that is thrown into them reaches
the bottom. The spectators, who generally do not
wait long enough, too readily look upon such a man
as callous and hard—or even as boring.
329-
When it is Time to Vow Fidelity to One-
self. —We sometimes go astray in an intellectual
direction which does not correspond to our talents.
For a time we struggle heroically against wind and
tide, really against ourselves; but finally we become
weary and we pant. What we accomplish gives us
no real pleasure, since we think that we have paid too
heavy a price for these successes. We even despair
of our productivity, of our future, perhaps in the
midst of victory. —Finally, finally we turn back—and
then the wind swells our sails and bears us into our
smooth water. What bliss! How certain of victory
we feel! Only now do we know what we are and
what we intend, and now we vow fidelity to our-
selves, and have a right to do so—as men that know.
330.
Weather Prophets. —Just as the clouds reveal
to us the direction of the wind high above our
## p. 358 (#406) ############################################
358 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
heads, so the lightest and freest spirits give signs of
future weather by their course. The wind in the
valley and the market-place opinions of to-day have
no significance for the future, but only for the past.
331-
Continual Acceleration. —Those who begin
slowly and find it hard to become familiar with
a subject, sometimes acquire afterwards the quality
of continual acceleration—so that in the end no one
knows where the current will take them.
332.
The Three Good Things. —Greatness, calm,
sunlight—these three embrace all that a thinker
desires and also demands of himself: his hopes
and duties, his claims in the intellectual and moral
sphere, nay even in his daily manner of life and
the scenic background of his residence. Corre-
sponding to these three things are, firstly thoughts
that exalt, secondly thoughts that soothe, and
thirdly thoughts that illuminate—but, fourthly,
thoughts that share in all these three qualities, in
which all earthly things are transfigured. This is
the kingdom of the great trinity of joy.
333-
Dying FOR " Truth. "—We should not let our-
selves be burnt for our opinions—we are not so cer-
tain of them as all that. But we might let ourselves
be burnt for the right of possessing and changing
our opinions.
## p. 359 (#407) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
359
334.
MARKET VALUE. —If we wish to pass exactly
for what we are, we must be something that has its
market value. As, however, only objects in com-
mon use have a market value, this desire is the
consequence either of shrewd modesty or of stupid
immodesty.
335.
MORAL FOR BUILDERS. —We must remove the
scaffolding when the house has been built.
336.
SOPHOCLEANISM. —Who poured more water into
wine than the Greeks? Sobriety and grace com-
bined—that was the aristocratic privilege of the
Athenian in the time of Sophocles and after. Imi-
tate that whoever can! In life and in work!
there
337.
HEROISM. — The heroic consists in doing some-
thing great (or in nobly not doing something) with-
out feeling oneself to be in competition with or
before others.
