—Both
Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough
to inscribe upon their lives the motto, Vitam
impendere vero.
Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough
to inscribe upon their lives the motto, Vitam
impendere vero.
Nietzsche - v09 - The Dawn of Day
At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOss OF Renown. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind!
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of" half our virtue. "
467.
Doubly Patient. —"By doing this you will
hurt many people. "—I know that, and I also know
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we all prefer that humanity should perish rather
than that knowledge should enter into a stage of
retrogression. And, finally, if mankind does not
perish through some passion it will perish through
some weakness : which would we prefer? This is
the main question. Do we wish its end to be in
fire and light, or in the sands ?
430.
LIKEWISE HEROIC. —To do things of the worst
possible odour, things of which we scarcely dare
to speak, but which are nevertheless useful and
necessary, is also heroic. The Greeks were not
ashamed of numbering even the cleansing of a
stable among the great tasks of Hercules.
431.
THE OPINIONS OF OPPONENTS. —In order to
measure the natural subtlety or weakness of even
the cleverest heads, we must consider the manner
in which they take up and reproduce the opinions
of their adversaries, for the natural measure of
any intellect is thereby revealed. The perfect sage
involuntarily idealises his opponent and frees his
inconsistencies from all defects and accidentalities :
he only takes up arms against him when he has
thus turned his opponent into a god with shining
weapons.
432.
INVESTIGATOR AND ATTEMPTER. —There is no
exclusive method of knowing in science. We must
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315
deal with things tentatively, treating them by turns
harshly or justly, passionately or coldly. One investi-
gator deals with things like a policeman, another like
a confessor, and yet a third like an inquisitive travel-
ler. We force something from them now by sym-
pathy and now by violence: the oneis urged onward
and led to see clearly by the veneration which the
secrets of the things inspire in him, and the other
again by the indiscretion and malice met with in
the explanation of these secrets. We investigators,
like all conquerors, explorers, navigators, and ad-
venturers, are men of a daring morality, and we
must put up with our liability to be in the main
looked upon as evil.
433.
SEEING WITH NEW EYES. —Presuming that by
the term “beauty in art” is always implied the
imitation of something that is happy-and this I
consider to be true—according as an age or a
people or a great autocratic individuality re-
presents happiness : what then is disclosed by the
so-called realism of our modern artists in regard to
the happiness of our epoch? It is undoubtedly its
type of beauty which we now understand most
easily and enjoy best of any. As a consequence,
we are induced to believe that this happiness which
is now peculiar to us is based on realism, on the
sharpest possible senses, and on the true conception
of the actual—that is to say, not upon reality, but
upon what we know of reality. The results of
science have already gained so much in depth and
extent that the artists of our century have involun-
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
tarily become the glorifiers of scientific “ blessings”
per se.
434.
INTERCESSION. —Unpretentious regions are sub-
jects for great landscape painters; remarkable and
rare regions for inferior painters: for the great things
of nature and humanity must intercede in favour of
their little, mediocre, and vain admirers—whereas
the great man intercedes in favour of unassuming
things.
435.
NOT TO PERISH UNNOTICED. — It is not only
once but continuously that our excellence and
greatness are constantly crumbling away; the
weeds that grow among everything and cling to
everything ruin all that is great in us—the wretched-
ness of our surroundings, which we always try to
overlook and which is before our eyes at every hour
of the day, the innumerable little roots of mean and
petty feelings which we allow to grow up all about
us, in our office, among our companions, or our
daily labours. If we permit these small weeds to
escape our notice we shall perish through them un-
noticed ! -And, if you must perish, then do so im-
mediately and suddenly; for in that case you will
perhaps leave proud ruins behind you! and not, as
is now to be feared, merely molehills, covered with
grass and weeds—these petty and miserable con-
querors, as humble as ever, and too wretched even
to triumph.
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317
436.
CASUISTIC. —We are confronted with a very
bitter and painful dilemma, for the solution of which
not every one's bravery and character are equal :
when, as passengers on board a steamer, we dis-
cover that the captain and the helmsman are making
dangerous mistakes, and that we are their superiors in
nautical science—and then we ask ourselves: “What
would happen if we organised a mutiny against
them, and made them both prisoners ? Is it not
our duty to do so in view of our superiority ? and
would not they in their turn be justified in putting
us in irons for encouraging disobedience ? ”.
This is a simile for higher and worse situations ;
and the final question to be decided is, What
guarantees our superiority and our faith in ourselves
in such a case? Success ? but in order to do that
we must do the very thing in which all the danger
lies—not only dangerous for ourselves, but also for
the ship.
437.
PRIVILEGES. —The man who really owns himself,
that is to say, he who has finally conquered him-
self, regards it as his own right to punish, to
pardon, or to pity himself: he need not concede this
privilege to any one, though he may freely bestow
it upon some one else—a friend, for example—but
he knows that in doing this he is conferring a right,
and that rights can only be conferred by one who
is in full possession of power.
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438.
MAN AND THINGS. —Why does the man not see
the things? He himself is in the way: he con-
ceals the things.
439.
CHARACTERISTICS OF HAPPINESS. —There are
two things common to all sensations of happiness :
a profusion of feelings, accompanied by animal
spirits, so that, like the fishes, we feel ourselves to
be in our element and play about in it. Good
Christians will understand what Christian exuber-
ance means.
440.
NEVER RENOUNCE. —Renouncing the world
without knowing it, like a nun, results in a fruitless
and perhaps melancholy solitude. This has nothing
in common with the solitude of the vita contem-
plativa of the thinker: when he chooses this form
of solitude he wishes to renounce nothing ; but he
would on the contrary regard it as a renunciation,
a melancholy destruction of his own self, if he were
obliged to continue in the vita practica. He for-
goes this latter because he knows it, because he
knows himself. So he jumps into his water, and
thus gains his cheerfulness.
441.
WHY THE NEAREST THINGS BECOME EVER
MORE DISTANT FOR US. —The more we give up
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319
our minds to all that has been and will be, the paler
will become that which actually is. When we live
with the dead and participate in their death, what are
our“ neighbours” to us? We grow lonelier simply
because the entire flood of humanity is surging
round about us. The fire that burns within us, and
glows for all that is human, is continually increasing
-and hence we look upon everything that sur-
rounds us as if it had become more indifferent, more
shadowy,—but our cold glance is offensive.
442.
THE RULE. —“The rule always appears to me to
be more interesting than the exception ”—whoever
thinks thus has made considerable progress in
knowledge, and is one of the initiated.
443.
ON EDUCATION. — I have gradually come to see
daylight in regard to the most general defect in
our methods of education and training : nobody
learns, nobody teaches, nobody wishes, to endure
solitude.
444.
SURPRISE AT RESISTANCE. —Because we have
reached the point of being able to see through a
thing we believe that henceforth it can offer us no
further resistance-and then we are surprised to
find that we can see through it and yet cannot pene-
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
trate through it. This is the same kind of foolish-
ness and surprise as that of the fly on a pane of
glass.
445.
WHERE THE NOBLEST ARE MISTAKEN. —We
give some one at length our dearest and most valued
possession, and then love has nothing more to give:
but the recipient of the gift will certainly not con-
sider it as his dearest possession, and will conse-
quently be wanting in that full and complete grati-
tude which we expect from him.
446.
HIERARCHY. —First and foremost, there are the
superficial thinkers, and secondly the profound
thinkers—such as dive into the depths of a thing,—
thirdly, the thorough thinkers, who get to the bottom
of a thing—which is of much greater importance
than merely diving into its depths,—and, finally,
those who leap head foremost into the marsh:
though this must not be looked upon as indicating
either depth or thoroughness! these are the lovers
of obscurity. *
447.
MASTER AND PUPIL. —By cautioning his pupils
against himself the teacher shows his humanity.
* The play upon the words gründlich (thorough) thinkers,
and Untergründlichen (lit. those underground) cannot be
rendered in English. -TR.
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321
448.
HONOURING REALITY. —How can we look at
this exulting multitude without tears and acqui-
escence? at one time we thought little of the object
of their exultation, and we should still think so if
we ourselves had not come through a similar experi-
ence. And what may these experiences lead us to !
what are our opinions! In order that we may not
lose ourselves and our reason we must fly from
experiences. It was thus that Plato fled from actu-
ality, and wished to contemplate things only in their
pale mental concepts: he was full of sensitiveness,
and knew how easily the waves of this sensitiveness
would drown his reason. -Must the sage therefore
say, “I will honour reality, but I will at the same
time turn my back to it because I know and dread
it? ” Ought he to behave as certain African tribes
do in the presence of their sovereign, whom they
approach backwards, thus showing their reverence
at the same time as their dread ?
449.
WHERE ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT ? -Oh, how
greatly it goes against my grain to impose my
own thoughts upon others! How I rejoice over
every mood and secret change within me as the
result of which the thoughts of others are victorious
over my own! but from time to time I enjoy an
even greater satisfaction, when I am allowed to
give away my intellectual possessions, like the
confessor sitting in his box and anxiously awaiting
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the arrival of some distressed person who stands
in need of consolation, and will be only too glad to
relate the full misery of his thoughts so that the
listener's hand and heart will once again be filled,
and the troubled soul eased! Not only has the
confessor no desire for renown: he would fain shun
gratitude as well, for it is obtrusive, and does not
stand in awe of solitude or silence.
But to live without a name, and even to be
slightly sneered at; too obscure to arouse envy or
enmity; with a head free from fever, a handful
of knowledge, and a pocketful of experience; a
physician, as it were, of the poor in spirit, help-
ing this one or that one whose head is troubled with
opinions, without the latter perceiving who has
actually helped him! without any desire to appear
to be in the right in the presence of his patient, or
to carry off a victory. To speak to him in such a
way that, after a short and almost imperceptible
hint or objection, the listener may find out for him-
self what is right and proudly walk away! To be
like an obscure and unknown inn which turns no one
away who is in need, but which is afterwards for-
gotten and laughed at ! To be without any advan-
tages over others—neither possessing better food
nor purer air, nor a more cheerful mind-but always
to be giving away, returning, communicating, and
becoming poorer! To know how to be humble in
order to be accessible to many people and humili-
ating to none! To take a great deal of injustice
on his shoulders and creep through the cracks and
crannies of all kinds of errors, in order that we may
reach many obscure souls on their secret paths !
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323
ever in possession of some kind of love, and some
kind of egoism and self-enjoyment! in possession
of power, and yet at the same time hidden and
resigned ! constantly basking in the sunshine and
sweetness of grace, and yet knowing that quite near
to us stands the ladder leading to the sublime ! -
that would be life! that would indeed be a reason
for a long life!
450.
THE TEMPTATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE. - A
glance through the gate of science acts upon
passionate spirits as the charm of charms: they will
probably become dreamers, or in the most favour-
able cases poets, so great is their desire for the
happiness of the man who can discern. Does it not
enter into all your senses, this note of sweet tempta-
tion by which science has announced its joyful
message in a thousand ways, and in the thousand
and first way, the noblest of all, “Begone, illusion !
for then 'Woe is me' also vanished, and with it woe
itself is gone” (Marcus Aurelius).
451.
FOR WHOM A COURT JESTER IS NEEDFUL. —
Those who are very beautiful, very good, and very
powerful scarcely ever learn the full and naked truth
about anything for in their presence we involun-
tarily lie a little, because we feel their influence, and
in view of this influence convey a truth in the form
of an adaptation (by falsifying the shades and
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
degrees of facts, by omitting or adding details, and
withholding that which is insusceptible of adapta-
tion). If, however, in spite of all this, people of this
description insist upon hearing the truth, they must
keep a court jester—a being with the madman's
privilege of being unable to adapt himself.
452.
IMPATIENCE. -There is a certain degree of im-
patience in men of thought and action, which in
cases of failure at once drives them to the opposite
camp, induces them to take a great interest in it,
and to give themselves up to new undertakings-
until here again the slowness of their success drives
them away. Thus they rove about, like so many
reckless adventurers, through the practices of many
kingdoms and natures; and in the end, as the
result of their wide knowledge of men and things,
acquired by their unheard of travel and practice, and
with a certain moderation of their craving, they be-
come powerful practical men. Hence a defect in
character may become the school of genius.
453.
A MORAL INTERREGNUM. —Who is now in a
position to describe that which will one day supplant
moral feelings and judgments ! -however certain we
may be that these are founded on error, and that
the building erected upon such foundations cannot
be repaired: their obligation must gradually diminish
from day to day, in so far as the obligation of reason
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325
does not diminish! To carry out the task of re-
establishing the laws of life and action is still beyond
the power of our sciences of physiology and medicine,
society and solitude: though it is only from them
that we can borrow the foundation-stones of new
ideals (but not the ideals themselves). Thus we
live a preliminary or after existence, according to
our tastes and talents, and the best we can do in
this interregnum is to be as much as possible our
own "reges," and to establish small experimental
states. We are experiments: if we want to be
so!
454
A DIGRESSION. —A book like this is not intended
to be read through at once, or to be read aloud.
It is intended more particularly for reference,
especially on our walks and travels: we must take
it up and put it down again after a short reading,
and, more especially, we ought not to be amongst
our usual surroundings.
455.
THE PRIMARY NATURE. — As we are now
brought up, we begin by acquiring a secondary
nature, and we possess it when the world calls us
mature, of age, efficient. A few have sufficient of
the serpent about them to cast this skin some day,
when their primary nature has come to maturity
under it. But in the majority of people the germ
of it withers away.
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
456.
A VIRTUE IN PROCESS OF BECOMING. –Such
assertions and promises as those of the ancient
philosophers on the unity of virtue and felicity, or
that of Christianity, “Seek ye first the Kingdom
of God and His righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you," have never been made
with absolute sincerity, but always without a bad
conscience nevertheless. People were in the habit
of boldly laying down principles—which they
wished to be true-exactly as if they were truth
itself, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and
in doing this they felt neither religious nor moral
compunction; for it was in honorem maiorem of
virtue or of God that one had gone beyond truth,
without, however, any selfish intention !
Many good people still act up to this degree of
truthfulness: when they feel unselfish they think it
permissible to treat truth more lightly. Let it be
remembered that the word honesty is neither to be
found among the Socratic nor the Christian virtues :
it is one of our most recent virtues, not yet quite
mature, frequently misconstrued and misunder-
stood, scarcely conscious of itself—something in
embryo, which we may either promote or check
according to our inclination.
457.
FINAL TACITURNITY. —There are some men
who fare like the digger after hidden treasures :
they quite accidentally discover the carefully-
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327
preserved secrets of another's soul, and as a result
come into the possession of knowledge which it is
often a heavy burden to bear. In certain circum-
stances we may know the living and the dead, and
sound their inmost thoughts to such an extent that
it becomes painful to us to speak to others about
them : at every word we utter we are afraid of being
indiscreet. —I can easily imagine a sudden silence
on the part of the wisest historian.
458.
THE GREAT PRIZE. —There is a very rare thing,
but a very delightful one, viz. the man with a
nobly-formed intellect who possesses at the same
time the character and inclinations, and even
meets with the experiences, suited to such an
intellect.
459.
THE MAGNANIMITY OF THE THINKER.
—Both
Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough
to inscribe upon their lives the motto, Vitam
impendere vero. And how they both must have
suffered in their pride because they could not succeed
in verum impendere vitæ ! —verum, such as each
of them understood it,—when their lives ran side
by side with their knowledge like an uncouth bass
which is not in tune with the melody.
Knowledge, however, would be in a bad way if
it were measured out to every thinker only in
proportion as it can be adapted to his own person.
And thinkers would be in a bad way if their vanity
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
were so great that they could only endure such an
adaptation, for the noblest virtue of a great thinker
is his magnanimity, which urges him on in his search
for knowledge to sacrifice himself and his life un-
shrinkingly, often shamefacedly, and often with
sublime scorn, and smiling.
460.
UTILISING OUR HOURS OF DANGER. —Those
men and conditions whose every movement may
mean danger to our possessions, honour, and life or
death, and to those most dear to us, we shall
naturally learn to know thoroughly. Tiberius,
for instance, must have meditated much more
deeply on the character and methods of government
of the Emperor Augustus, and must have known
far more about them than even the wisest historian.
At the present day we all live, relatively speak-
ing, in a security which is much too great to make
us true psychologists : some survey their fellow-men
as a hobby, others out of ennui, and others again
merely from habit; but never to the extent they
would do if they were told “Discern or perish ! ”
As long as truths do not cut us to the quick we
assume an attitude of contempt towards them:
they still appear to us too much like the "winged
dreams," as if we could or could not have them at
our discretion, as if we could likewise be aroused
from these truths as from a dream!
461.
Hic RHODUS, Hic SALTA-Our music, which
can and must change into everything, because
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329
like the demon of the sea, it has no character of
its own : this music in former times devoted its
attention to the Christian savant, and transposed
his ideals into sounds : why cannot it likewise find
those brighter, more cheerful, and universal sounds
which correspond to the ideal thinker -a music
which could rock itself at ease in the vast floating
vaults of the soul ? So far our music has been so
great and so good; nothing seemed impossible to
its powers. May it therefore prove possible to
create these three sensations at one time: sublimity,
deep and warm light, and rapture of the greatest
possible consistency !
462.
Slow CURES. —Chronic illnesses of the soul,
like those of the body, are very rarely due to one
gross offence against physical and mental reason,
but as a general rule they arise from innumerable
and petty negligences of a minor order. -A man,
for example, whose breathing becomes a trifle
weaker every day, and whose lungs, by inhaling
too little air, are deprived of their proper amount
of exercise, will end by being struck down by some
chronic disease of the lungs. The only remedy for
cases like these is a countless number of minor
exercises of a contrary tendency-making it a
rule, for example, to take a long and deep breath
every quarter of an hour, lying flat on the ground
if possible. For this purpose a clock which strikes
the quarters should be chosen as a lifelong com-
panion.
All these remedies are slow and trifling; but
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. --You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
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331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING:-
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. " By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“ You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
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331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
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yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour! or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
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331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream ; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. -What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
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332 THE DAWN OF DAY.
that I shall have to suffer for it doubly: in the
first place out of pity for their suffering, and secondly
from the revenge they will take on me. But in
spite of this I cannot help doing what I do.
468.
The Kingdom of Beauty is Greater. —We
move about in nature, cunning and cheerful, in order
that we may surprise everything in the beauty
peculiar to it; we make an effort, whether in sun-
shine or under a stormy sky, to see a distant part
of the coast with its rocks, bays, and olive and
pine trees under an aspect in which it achieves its
perfection and consummation.
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOss OF Renown. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind!
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of" half our virtue. "
467.
Doubly Patient. —"By doing this you will
hurt many people. "—I know that, and I also know
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
we all prefer that humanity should perish rather
than that knowledge should enter into a stage of
retrogression. And, finally, if mankind does not
perish through some passion it will perish through
some weakness : which would we prefer? This is
the main question. Do we wish its end to be in
fire and light, or in the sands ?
430.
LIKEWISE HEROIC. —To do things of the worst
possible odour, things of which we scarcely dare
to speak, but which are nevertheless useful and
necessary, is also heroic. The Greeks were not
ashamed of numbering even the cleansing of a
stable among the great tasks of Hercules.
431.
THE OPINIONS OF OPPONENTS. —In order to
measure the natural subtlety or weakness of even
the cleverest heads, we must consider the manner
in which they take up and reproduce the opinions
of their adversaries, for the natural measure of
any intellect is thereby revealed. The perfect sage
involuntarily idealises his opponent and frees his
inconsistencies from all defects and accidentalities :
he only takes up arms against him when he has
thus turned his opponent into a god with shining
weapons.
432.
INVESTIGATOR AND ATTEMPTER. —There is no
exclusive method of knowing in science. We must
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315
deal with things tentatively, treating them by turns
harshly or justly, passionately or coldly. One investi-
gator deals with things like a policeman, another like
a confessor, and yet a third like an inquisitive travel-
ler. We force something from them now by sym-
pathy and now by violence: the oneis urged onward
and led to see clearly by the veneration which the
secrets of the things inspire in him, and the other
again by the indiscretion and malice met with in
the explanation of these secrets. We investigators,
like all conquerors, explorers, navigators, and ad-
venturers, are men of a daring morality, and we
must put up with our liability to be in the main
looked upon as evil.
433.
SEEING WITH NEW EYES. —Presuming that by
the term “beauty in art” is always implied the
imitation of something that is happy-and this I
consider to be true—according as an age or a
people or a great autocratic individuality re-
presents happiness : what then is disclosed by the
so-called realism of our modern artists in regard to
the happiness of our epoch? It is undoubtedly its
type of beauty which we now understand most
easily and enjoy best of any. As a consequence,
we are induced to believe that this happiness which
is now peculiar to us is based on realism, on the
sharpest possible senses, and on the true conception
of the actual—that is to say, not upon reality, but
upon what we know of reality. The results of
science have already gained so much in depth and
extent that the artists of our century have involun-
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tarily become the glorifiers of scientific “ blessings”
per se.
434.
INTERCESSION. —Unpretentious regions are sub-
jects for great landscape painters; remarkable and
rare regions for inferior painters: for the great things
of nature and humanity must intercede in favour of
their little, mediocre, and vain admirers—whereas
the great man intercedes in favour of unassuming
things.
435.
NOT TO PERISH UNNOTICED. — It is not only
once but continuously that our excellence and
greatness are constantly crumbling away; the
weeds that grow among everything and cling to
everything ruin all that is great in us—the wretched-
ness of our surroundings, which we always try to
overlook and which is before our eyes at every hour
of the day, the innumerable little roots of mean and
petty feelings which we allow to grow up all about
us, in our office, among our companions, or our
daily labours. If we permit these small weeds to
escape our notice we shall perish through them un-
noticed ! -And, if you must perish, then do so im-
mediately and suddenly; for in that case you will
perhaps leave proud ruins behind you! and not, as
is now to be feared, merely molehills, covered with
grass and weeds—these petty and miserable con-
querors, as humble as ever, and too wretched even
to triumph.
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317
436.
CASUISTIC. —We are confronted with a very
bitter and painful dilemma, for the solution of which
not every one's bravery and character are equal :
when, as passengers on board a steamer, we dis-
cover that the captain and the helmsman are making
dangerous mistakes, and that we are their superiors in
nautical science—and then we ask ourselves: “What
would happen if we organised a mutiny against
them, and made them both prisoners ? Is it not
our duty to do so in view of our superiority ? and
would not they in their turn be justified in putting
us in irons for encouraging disobedience ? ”.
This is a simile for higher and worse situations ;
and the final question to be decided is, What
guarantees our superiority and our faith in ourselves
in such a case? Success ? but in order to do that
we must do the very thing in which all the danger
lies—not only dangerous for ourselves, but also for
the ship.
437.
PRIVILEGES. —The man who really owns himself,
that is to say, he who has finally conquered him-
self, regards it as his own right to punish, to
pardon, or to pity himself: he need not concede this
privilege to any one, though he may freely bestow
it upon some one else—a friend, for example—but
he knows that in doing this he is conferring a right,
and that rights can only be conferred by one who
is in full possession of power.
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438.
MAN AND THINGS. —Why does the man not see
the things? He himself is in the way: he con-
ceals the things.
439.
CHARACTERISTICS OF HAPPINESS. —There are
two things common to all sensations of happiness :
a profusion of feelings, accompanied by animal
spirits, so that, like the fishes, we feel ourselves to
be in our element and play about in it. Good
Christians will understand what Christian exuber-
ance means.
440.
NEVER RENOUNCE. —Renouncing the world
without knowing it, like a nun, results in a fruitless
and perhaps melancholy solitude. This has nothing
in common with the solitude of the vita contem-
plativa of the thinker: when he chooses this form
of solitude he wishes to renounce nothing ; but he
would on the contrary regard it as a renunciation,
a melancholy destruction of his own self, if he were
obliged to continue in the vita practica. He for-
goes this latter because he knows it, because he
knows himself. So he jumps into his water, and
thus gains his cheerfulness.
441.
WHY THE NEAREST THINGS BECOME EVER
MORE DISTANT FOR US. —The more we give up
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319
our minds to all that has been and will be, the paler
will become that which actually is. When we live
with the dead and participate in their death, what are
our“ neighbours” to us? We grow lonelier simply
because the entire flood of humanity is surging
round about us. The fire that burns within us, and
glows for all that is human, is continually increasing
-and hence we look upon everything that sur-
rounds us as if it had become more indifferent, more
shadowy,—but our cold glance is offensive.
442.
THE RULE. —“The rule always appears to me to
be more interesting than the exception ”—whoever
thinks thus has made considerable progress in
knowledge, and is one of the initiated.
443.
ON EDUCATION. — I have gradually come to see
daylight in regard to the most general defect in
our methods of education and training : nobody
learns, nobody teaches, nobody wishes, to endure
solitude.
444.
SURPRISE AT RESISTANCE. —Because we have
reached the point of being able to see through a
thing we believe that henceforth it can offer us no
further resistance-and then we are surprised to
find that we can see through it and yet cannot pene-
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
trate through it. This is the same kind of foolish-
ness and surprise as that of the fly on a pane of
glass.
445.
WHERE THE NOBLEST ARE MISTAKEN. —We
give some one at length our dearest and most valued
possession, and then love has nothing more to give:
but the recipient of the gift will certainly not con-
sider it as his dearest possession, and will conse-
quently be wanting in that full and complete grati-
tude which we expect from him.
446.
HIERARCHY. —First and foremost, there are the
superficial thinkers, and secondly the profound
thinkers—such as dive into the depths of a thing,—
thirdly, the thorough thinkers, who get to the bottom
of a thing—which is of much greater importance
than merely diving into its depths,—and, finally,
those who leap head foremost into the marsh:
though this must not be looked upon as indicating
either depth or thoroughness! these are the lovers
of obscurity. *
447.
MASTER AND PUPIL. —By cautioning his pupils
against himself the teacher shows his humanity.
* The play upon the words gründlich (thorough) thinkers,
and Untergründlichen (lit. those underground) cannot be
rendered in English. -TR.
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321
448.
HONOURING REALITY. —How can we look at
this exulting multitude without tears and acqui-
escence? at one time we thought little of the object
of their exultation, and we should still think so if
we ourselves had not come through a similar experi-
ence. And what may these experiences lead us to !
what are our opinions! In order that we may not
lose ourselves and our reason we must fly from
experiences. It was thus that Plato fled from actu-
ality, and wished to contemplate things only in their
pale mental concepts: he was full of sensitiveness,
and knew how easily the waves of this sensitiveness
would drown his reason. -Must the sage therefore
say, “I will honour reality, but I will at the same
time turn my back to it because I know and dread
it? ” Ought he to behave as certain African tribes
do in the presence of their sovereign, whom they
approach backwards, thus showing their reverence
at the same time as their dread ?
449.
WHERE ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT ? -Oh, how
greatly it goes against my grain to impose my
own thoughts upon others! How I rejoice over
every mood and secret change within me as the
result of which the thoughts of others are victorious
over my own! but from time to time I enjoy an
even greater satisfaction, when I am allowed to
give away my intellectual possessions, like the
confessor sitting in his box and anxiously awaiting
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the arrival of some distressed person who stands
in need of consolation, and will be only too glad to
relate the full misery of his thoughts so that the
listener's hand and heart will once again be filled,
and the troubled soul eased! Not only has the
confessor no desire for renown: he would fain shun
gratitude as well, for it is obtrusive, and does not
stand in awe of solitude or silence.
But to live without a name, and even to be
slightly sneered at; too obscure to arouse envy or
enmity; with a head free from fever, a handful
of knowledge, and a pocketful of experience; a
physician, as it were, of the poor in spirit, help-
ing this one or that one whose head is troubled with
opinions, without the latter perceiving who has
actually helped him! without any desire to appear
to be in the right in the presence of his patient, or
to carry off a victory. To speak to him in such a
way that, after a short and almost imperceptible
hint or objection, the listener may find out for him-
self what is right and proudly walk away! To be
like an obscure and unknown inn which turns no one
away who is in need, but which is afterwards for-
gotten and laughed at ! To be without any advan-
tages over others—neither possessing better food
nor purer air, nor a more cheerful mind-but always
to be giving away, returning, communicating, and
becoming poorer! To know how to be humble in
order to be accessible to many people and humili-
ating to none! To take a great deal of injustice
on his shoulders and creep through the cracks and
crannies of all kinds of errors, in order that we may
reach many obscure souls on their secret paths !
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323
ever in possession of some kind of love, and some
kind of egoism and self-enjoyment! in possession
of power, and yet at the same time hidden and
resigned ! constantly basking in the sunshine and
sweetness of grace, and yet knowing that quite near
to us stands the ladder leading to the sublime ! -
that would be life! that would indeed be a reason
for a long life!
450.
THE TEMPTATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE. - A
glance through the gate of science acts upon
passionate spirits as the charm of charms: they will
probably become dreamers, or in the most favour-
able cases poets, so great is their desire for the
happiness of the man who can discern. Does it not
enter into all your senses, this note of sweet tempta-
tion by which science has announced its joyful
message in a thousand ways, and in the thousand
and first way, the noblest of all, “Begone, illusion !
for then 'Woe is me' also vanished, and with it woe
itself is gone” (Marcus Aurelius).
451.
FOR WHOM A COURT JESTER IS NEEDFUL. —
Those who are very beautiful, very good, and very
powerful scarcely ever learn the full and naked truth
about anything for in their presence we involun-
tarily lie a little, because we feel their influence, and
in view of this influence convey a truth in the form
of an adaptation (by falsifying the shades and
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
degrees of facts, by omitting or adding details, and
withholding that which is insusceptible of adapta-
tion). If, however, in spite of all this, people of this
description insist upon hearing the truth, they must
keep a court jester—a being with the madman's
privilege of being unable to adapt himself.
452.
IMPATIENCE. -There is a certain degree of im-
patience in men of thought and action, which in
cases of failure at once drives them to the opposite
camp, induces them to take a great interest in it,
and to give themselves up to new undertakings-
until here again the slowness of their success drives
them away. Thus they rove about, like so many
reckless adventurers, through the practices of many
kingdoms and natures; and in the end, as the
result of their wide knowledge of men and things,
acquired by their unheard of travel and practice, and
with a certain moderation of their craving, they be-
come powerful practical men. Hence a defect in
character may become the school of genius.
453.
A MORAL INTERREGNUM. —Who is now in a
position to describe that which will one day supplant
moral feelings and judgments ! -however certain we
may be that these are founded on error, and that
the building erected upon such foundations cannot
be repaired: their obligation must gradually diminish
from day to day, in so far as the obligation of reason
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325
does not diminish! To carry out the task of re-
establishing the laws of life and action is still beyond
the power of our sciences of physiology and medicine,
society and solitude: though it is only from them
that we can borrow the foundation-stones of new
ideals (but not the ideals themselves). Thus we
live a preliminary or after existence, according to
our tastes and talents, and the best we can do in
this interregnum is to be as much as possible our
own "reges," and to establish small experimental
states. We are experiments: if we want to be
so!
454
A DIGRESSION. —A book like this is not intended
to be read through at once, or to be read aloud.
It is intended more particularly for reference,
especially on our walks and travels: we must take
it up and put it down again after a short reading,
and, more especially, we ought not to be amongst
our usual surroundings.
455.
THE PRIMARY NATURE. — As we are now
brought up, we begin by acquiring a secondary
nature, and we possess it when the world calls us
mature, of age, efficient. A few have sufficient of
the serpent about them to cast this skin some day,
when their primary nature has come to maturity
under it. But in the majority of people the germ
of it withers away.
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456.
A VIRTUE IN PROCESS OF BECOMING. –Such
assertions and promises as those of the ancient
philosophers on the unity of virtue and felicity, or
that of Christianity, “Seek ye first the Kingdom
of God and His righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you," have never been made
with absolute sincerity, but always without a bad
conscience nevertheless. People were in the habit
of boldly laying down principles—which they
wished to be true-exactly as if they were truth
itself, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and
in doing this they felt neither religious nor moral
compunction; for it was in honorem maiorem of
virtue or of God that one had gone beyond truth,
without, however, any selfish intention !
Many good people still act up to this degree of
truthfulness: when they feel unselfish they think it
permissible to treat truth more lightly. Let it be
remembered that the word honesty is neither to be
found among the Socratic nor the Christian virtues :
it is one of our most recent virtues, not yet quite
mature, frequently misconstrued and misunder-
stood, scarcely conscious of itself—something in
embryo, which we may either promote or check
according to our inclination.
457.
FINAL TACITURNITY. —There are some men
who fare like the digger after hidden treasures :
they quite accidentally discover the carefully-
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327
preserved secrets of another's soul, and as a result
come into the possession of knowledge which it is
often a heavy burden to bear. In certain circum-
stances we may know the living and the dead, and
sound their inmost thoughts to such an extent that
it becomes painful to us to speak to others about
them : at every word we utter we are afraid of being
indiscreet. —I can easily imagine a sudden silence
on the part of the wisest historian.
458.
THE GREAT PRIZE. —There is a very rare thing,
but a very delightful one, viz. the man with a
nobly-formed intellect who possesses at the same
time the character and inclinations, and even
meets with the experiences, suited to such an
intellect.
459.
THE MAGNANIMITY OF THE THINKER.
—Both
Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough
to inscribe upon their lives the motto, Vitam
impendere vero. And how they both must have
suffered in their pride because they could not succeed
in verum impendere vitæ ! —verum, such as each
of them understood it,—when their lives ran side
by side with their knowledge like an uncouth bass
which is not in tune with the melody.
Knowledge, however, would be in a bad way if
it were measured out to every thinker only in
proportion as it can be adapted to his own person.
And thinkers would be in a bad way if their vanity
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were so great that they could only endure such an
adaptation, for the noblest virtue of a great thinker
is his magnanimity, which urges him on in his search
for knowledge to sacrifice himself and his life un-
shrinkingly, often shamefacedly, and often with
sublime scorn, and smiling.
460.
UTILISING OUR HOURS OF DANGER. —Those
men and conditions whose every movement may
mean danger to our possessions, honour, and life or
death, and to those most dear to us, we shall
naturally learn to know thoroughly. Tiberius,
for instance, must have meditated much more
deeply on the character and methods of government
of the Emperor Augustus, and must have known
far more about them than even the wisest historian.
At the present day we all live, relatively speak-
ing, in a security which is much too great to make
us true psychologists : some survey their fellow-men
as a hobby, others out of ennui, and others again
merely from habit; but never to the extent they
would do if they were told “Discern or perish ! ”
As long as truths do not cut us to the quick we
assume an attitude of contempt towards them:
they still appear to us too much like the "winged
dreams," as if we could or could not have them at
our discretion, as if we could likewise be aroused
from these truths as from a dream!
461.
Hic RHODUS, Hic SALTA-Our music, which
can and must change into everything, because
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329
like the demon of the sea, it has no character of
its own : this music in former times devoted its
attention to the Christian savant, and transposed
his ideals into sounds : why cannot it likewise find
those brighter, more cheerful, and universal sounds
which correspond to the ideal thinker -a music
which could rock itself at ease in the vast floating
vaults of the soul ? So far our music has been so
great and so good; nothing seemed impossible to
its powers. May it therefore prove possible to
create these three sensations at one time: sublimity,
deep and warm light, and rapture of the greatest
possible consistency !
462.
Slow CURES. —Chronic illnesses of the soul,
like those of the body, are very rarely due to one
gross offence against physical and mental reason,
but as a general rule they arise from innumerable
and petty negligences of a minor order. -A man,
for example, whose breathing becomes a trifle
weaker every day, and whose lungs, by inhaling
too little air, are deprived of their proper amount
of exercise, will end by being struck down by some
chronic disease of the lungs. The only remedy for
cases like these is a countless number of minor
exercises of a contrary tendency-making it a
rule, for example, to take a long and deep breath
every quarter of an hour, lying flat on the ground
if possible. For this purpose a clock which strikes
the quarters should be chosen as a lifelong com-
panion.
All these remedies are slow and trifling; but
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. --You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#469) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING:-
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. " By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#470) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#471) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#472) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“ You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#473) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#474) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour! or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#475) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream ; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. -What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 332 (#476) ############################################
332 THE DAWN OF DAY.
that I shall have to suffer for it doubly: in the
first place out of pity for their suffering, and secondly
from the revenge they will take on me. But in
spite of this I cannot help doing what I do.
468.
The Kingdom of Beauty is Greater. —We
move about in nature, cunning and cheerful, in order
that we may surprise everything in the beauty
peculiar to it; we make an effort, whether in sun-
shine or under a stormy sky, to see a distant part
of the coast with its rocks, bays, and olive and
pine trees under an aspect in which it achieves its
perfection and consummation.
