—In the ages i
of a rude and primitive civilisation man believed I
VOL.
of a rude and primitive civilisation man believed I
VOL.
Nietzsche - v06 - Human All-Too-Human - a
Already
I see them coming, slowly, slowly; and perhaps I
am doing something to hasten their coming when
I describe in advance under what auspices I see
them originate, and upon what paths I see them
come.
One may suppose that a spirit in which the
type "free spirit" is to become fully mature and
sweet, has had its decisive event in a great emanci-
pation, and that it was all the more fettered pre-
viously and apparently bound for ever to its corner
and pillar. What is it that binds most strongly?
What cords are almost unrendable? In men of
a lofty and select type it will be their duties; the
reverence which is suitable to youth, respect and
tenderness for all that is time-honoured and worthy,
gratitude to the land which bore them, to the hand
which led them, to the sanctuary where they learnt
to adore,—their most exalted moments themselves
will bind them most effectively, will lay upon them
the most enduring obligations. For those who are
thus bound the great emancipation comes suddenly,
like an earthquake; the young soul is all at once
convulsed, unloosened and extricated—it does not
itself know what is happening. An impulsion
and compulsion sway and over-master it like a
command; a will and a wish awaken, to go forth
on their course, anywhere, at any cost; a violent,
dangerous curiosity about an undiscovered world
flames and flares in every sense. "Better to
## p. 5 (#27) ###############################################
PREFACE. 5
die than live here "—says the imperious voice and
seduction, and this "here," this "at home" is all
that the soul has hitherto loved! A sudden fear
and suspicion of that which it loved, a flash of
disdain for what was called its " duty," a rebellious,
arbitrary, volcanically throbbing longing for travel,
foreignness, estrangement, coldness, disenchant-
ment, glaciation, a hatred of love, perhaps a sacri-
legious clutch and look backwards, to where it
hitherto adored and loved, perhaps a glow of
shame at what it was just doing, and at the same
time a rejoicing that it was doing it, an intoxicated,
internal, exulting thrill which betrays a triumph
—a triumph? Over what? Over whom? An
enigmatical, questionable, doubtful triumph, but
the first triumph nevertheless ;—such evil and
painful incidents belong to . the history of the great
emancipation. It is, at the same time, a disease
which may destroy the man, this first outbreak of
power and will to self-decision, self-valuation, this
will to free will; and how much disease is mani-
fested in the wild attempts and eccentricities by
which the liberated and emancipated one now
seeks to demonstrate his mastery over things! He
roves about raging with unsatisfied longing; what-
ever he captures has to suffer for the dangerous
tension of his pride; he tears to pieces whatever
attracts him. With a malicious laugh he twirls'
round whatever he finds veiled or guarded by a
sense of shame; he tries how these things look
when turned upside down. It is a matter of
arbitrariness with him, and pleasure in arbitrariness,
if he now perhaps bestow his favour on what
## p. 6 (#28) ###############################################
6 PREFACE.
had hitherto a bad repute,—if he inquisitively
and temptingly haunt what is specially forbidden.
In the background of his activities and wanderings
—for he is restless and aimless in his course as in
a desert—stands the note of interrogation of an
increasingly dangerous curiosity. "Cannot all
valuations be reversed? And is good perhaps
evil? And God only an invention and artifice
of the devil? Is everything, perhaps, radically
false? And if we are the deceived, are we not
thereby also deceivers? Must we not also be
|__deceivers ? "—Such thoughts lead and mislead
r<" him more and more, onward and away. Solitude
li=- encircles and engirdles him, always more threaten-
ing, more throttling, more heart-oppressing, that
terrible goddess and mater sceva cupidinum—but
who knows nowadays what solitude is? . . .
From this morbid solitariness, from the desert
of such years of experiment, it is still a long way
to the copious, overflowing safety and soundness
which does not care to dispense with disease
itself as an instrument and angling-hook of
knowledge;—to that mature freedom of spirit
which is equally self-control and discipline of
the heart, and gives access to many and opposed
modes of thought;—to that inward comprehen-
siveness and daintiness of superabundance, which
excludes any danger of the spirit's becoming
enamoured and lost in its own paths, and
## p. 7 (#29) ###############################################
PREFACE. 7
lying intoxicated in some corner or other; to that
excess of plastic, healing, formative, and restorative
powers, which is exactly the sign of splendid
health, that excess which gives the free spirit
the dangerous prerogative of being entitled to
live by experiments and offer itself to adventure;
the free spirit's prerogative of mastership! Long
years of convalescence may lie in between, years
full of many-coloured, painfully-enchanting magi-
cal transformations, curbed and led by a tough
will to health, which often dares to dress and
disguise itself as actual health. There is a middle
condition therein, which a man of such a fate
never calls to mind later on without emotion; a
pale, delicate light and a sunshine-happiness are
peculiar to him, a feeling of bird-like freedom,
prospect, and haughtiness, a tertium quid in
which curiosity and gentle disdain are combined.
A "free spirit"—this cool expression does good
in every condition, it almost warms. One no
longer lives, in the fetters of love and hatred,
without Yea, without Nay, voluntarily near,
voluntarily distant, preferring to escape, to turn
aside, to flutter forth, to fly up and away; one
is fastidious like every one who has once seen
an immense variety beneath him,—and one has
become the opposite of those who trouble them-
selves about things which do not concern them.
In fact, it is nothing but things which now
concern the free spirit,—and how many things ! —
which no longer trouble him!
## p. 7 (#30) ###############################################
6 PREFACE.
I
had hitherto a bad repute,—if he inquisitively
and temptingly haunt what is specially forbidden.
In the background of his activities and wanderings
—for he is restless and aimless in his course as in
a desert—stands the note of interrogation of an
increasingly dangerous curiosity. "Cannot all
valuations be reversed? And is good perhaps
evil? And God only an invention and artifice
of the devil? Is everything, perhaps, radically
false? And if we are the deceived, are we not
thereby also deceivers? Must we not also be
I deceivers ? "—Such thoughts lead and mislead
him more and more, onward and away. Solitude
encircles and engirdles him, always more threaten-
ing, more throttling, more heart-oppressing, that
terrible goddess and mater s<Eva cupidinunt—but
who knows nowadays what solitude is? . . .
From this morbid solitariness, from the desert
of such years of experiment, it is still a long way
to the copious, overflowing safety and soundness
which does not care to dispense with disease
itself as an instrument and angling-hook of
knowledge;—to that mature freedom of spirit
which is equally self-control and discipline of
the heart, and gives access to many and opposed
modes of thought ;—to that inward comprehen-
siveness and daintiness of superabundance, which
excludes any danger of the spirit's becoming
enamoured and lost in its own paths, and
## p. 7 (#31) ###############################################
PREFACE. 7
lying intoxicated in some corner or other; to that
excess of plastic, healing, formative, and restorative
powers, which is exactly the sign of splendid
health, that excess which gives the free spirit
the dangerous prerogative of being entitled to
live by experiments and offer itself to adventure;
the free spirit's prerogative of mastership! Long
years of convalescence may lie in between, years
full of many-coloured, painfully-enchanting magi-
cal transformations, curbed and led by a tough
will to health, which often dares to dress and
disguise itself as actual health. There is a middle
condition therein, which a man of such a fate
never calls to mind later on without emotion; a
pale, delicate light and a sunshine-happiness are
peculiar to him, a feeling of bird-like freedom,
prospect, and haughtiness, a tertium quid in
which curiosity and gentle disdain are combined.
A "free spirit"—this cool expression does good
in every condition, it almost warms. One no
longer lives, in the fetters of love and hatred,
without Yea, without Nay, voluntarily near,
voluntarily distant, preferring to escape, to turn
aside, to flutter forth, to fly up and away; one
is fastidious like every one who has once seen
an immense variety beneath him,—and one has
become the opposite of those who trouble them-
selves about things which do not concern them.
In fact, it is nothing but things which now
concern the free spirit,—and how many things ! —
which no longer trouble him!
## p. 7 (#32) ###############################################
6 PREFACE.
I
L
had hitherto a bad repute,—if he inquisitively
and temptingly haunt what is specially forbidden.
In the background of his activities and wanderings
—for he is restless and aimless in his course as in
a desert—stands the note of interrogation of an
increasingly dangerous curiosity. "Cannot all
valuations be reversed? And is good perhaps
evil? And God only an invention and artifice
of the devil? Is everything, perhaps, radically
false? And if we are the deceived, are we not
thereby also deceivers? Must we not also be
I deceivers ? "—Such thoughts lead and mislead
him more and more, onward and away. Solitude
encircles and engirdles him, always more threaten-
ing, more throttling, more heart-oppressing, that
terrible goddess and mater sceva cupidinum—but
who knows nowadays what solitude is? . . .
4.
From this morbid solitariness, from the desert
of such years of experiment, it is still a long way
to the copious, overflowing safety and soundness
which does not care to dispense with disease
itself as an instrument and angling-hook of
knowledge;—to that mature freedom of spirit
which is equally self-control and discipline of
the heart, and gives access to many and opposed
modes of thought ;—to that inward comprehen-
siveness and daintiness of superabundance, which
excludes any danger of the spirit's becoming
enamoured and lost in its own paths, and
## p. 7 (#33) ###############################################
PREFACE. 7
lying intoxicated in some corner or other; to that
excess of plastic, healing, formative, and restorative
powers, which is exactly the sign of splendid
health, that excess which gives the free spirit
the dangerous prerogative of being entitled to
live by experiments and offer itself to adventure;
the free spirit's prerogative of mastership! Long
years of convalescence may lie in between, years
full of many-coloured, painfully-enchanting magi-
cal transformations, curbed and led by a tough
will to health, which often dares to dress and
disguise itself as actual health. There is a middle
condition therein, which a man of such a fate
never calls to mind later on without emotion; a
pale, delicate light and a sunshine-happiness are
peculiar to him, a feeling of bird-like freedom,
prospect, and haughtiness, a tertium quid in
which curiosity and gentle disdain are combined.
A "free spirit"—this cool expression does good
in every condition, it almost warms. One no
longer lives, in the fetters of love and hatred,
without Yea, without Nay, voluntarily near,
voluntarily distant, preferring to escape, to turn
aside, to flutter forth, to fly up and away; one
is fastidious like every one who has once seen
an immense variety beneath him,—and one has
become the opposite of those who trouble them-
selves about things which do not concern them.
In fact, it is nothing but things which now
concern the free spirit,—and how many things ! —
which no longer trouble him!
## p. 8 (#34) ###############################################
PREFACE.
5-
A step further towards recovery, and the free
spirit again draws near to life; - slowly, it is
true, and almost stubbornly, almost distrustfully.
Again it grows warmer around him, and, as it
were, yellower; feeling and sympathy gain depth,
thawing winds of every kind pass lightly over him.
He almost feels as if his eyes were now first opened
to what is near. He marvels and is still; where
has he been? The near and nearest things, how
changed they appear to him! What a bloom and
magic they have acquired meanwhile! He looks
back gratefully,—grateful to his wandering, his
austerity and self-estrangement, his far-sightedness
and his bird-like flights in cold heights. What a
good thing that he did not always stay " at home,"
"by himself," like a sensitive, stupid tenderling.
He has been beside himself, there is no doubt. He
now sees himself for the first time,—and what sur-
prises he feels thereby! What thrills unexperienced
hitherto! What joy even in the weariness, in the
old illness, in the relapses of the convalescent!
How he likes to sit still and suffer, to practise
patience, to lie in the sun! Who is as familiar as
he with the joy of winter, with the patch of sun-
shine upon the wall! They are the most grateful
animals in the world, and also the most un-
assuming, these lizards of convalescents with
their faces half-turned towards life once more:—
there are those amongst them who never let a
day pass without hanging a little hymn of praise
on its trailing fringe. And, speaking seriously, it
## p. 9 (#35) ###############################################
PREFACE. 9
is a radical cure for all pessimism (the well-known
disease of old idealists and falsehood-mongers) to
become ill after the manner of these free spirits,
to remain ill a good while, and then grow well (I
mean "better") for a still longer period. It is
wisdom, practical wisdom, to prescribe even health
for one's self for a long time only in small doses.
About this time it may at last happen, under
the sudden illuminations of still disturbed and
changing health, that the enigma of that great
emancipation begins to reveal itself to the free,
and ever freer, spirit,—that enigma which had
hitherto lain obscure, questionable, and almost
intangible, in his memory. If for a long time he
scarcely dared to ask himself, "Why so apart?
So alone? denying everything that I revered?
denying reverence itself? Why this hatred, this
suspicion, this severity towards my own virtues? "
—he now dares and asks the questions aloud, and
already hears something like an answer to them—
"Thou shouldst become master over thyself and
master also of thine own virtues. Formerly they
were thy masters; but they are only entitled to
be thy tools amongst other tools. Thou shouldst
obtain power over thy pro and contra, and learn
how to put them forth and withdraw them again
in accordance with thy higher purpose. Thou
shouldst learn how to take the proper perspective
of every valuation—the shifting, distortion, and
apparent teleology of the horizons and everything
## p. 10 (#36) ##############################################
IO PREFACE.
/
that belongs to perspective; also the amount of
stupidity which opposite values involve, and all
the intellectual loss with which every pro and every
contra has to be paid for. /Thou shouldst learn
how much necessary injustice there is in every for
and against, injustice as inseparable from life, and,
life itself as conditioned by the perspective and its
injustice. ) Above all thou shouldst see clearly
where the injustice is always greatest:—namely,
where life has developed most punily, restrictedly,
necessitously, and incipiently, and yet cannot help
regarding itself as the purpose and standard of
things, and for the sake of self-preservation, secretly,
basely, and continuously wasting away and calling
in question the higher, greater, and richer,—thou
shouldst see clearly the problem of gradation of
rank, and how power and right and amplitude of
perspective grow up together. Thou shouldst"
"But enough; the free spirit knows henceforth
which " thou shalt" he has obeyed, and also what
he can now do, what he only now—may do. . . .
7-
Thus doth the free spirit answer himself with
regard to the riddle of emancipation, and ends
therewith, while he generalises his case, in order
thus to decide with regard to his experience. "As
it has happened to me," he says to himself," so must
it happen to every one in whom a mission seeks
to embody itself and to ' come into the world. '"
The secret power and necessity of this mission will
operate in and upon the destined individuals like
## p. 11 (#37) ##############################################
PREFACE. 11
an unconscious pregnancy,—long before they have
had the mission itself in view and have known its
name. Our destiny rules over us, even when we
are not yet aware of it; it is the future that makes
laws for our to-day. Granted that it is the problem
of the gradations of rank, of which we may say
that it is our problem, we free spirits; now only
in the midday of our life do we first understand
what preparations, detours, tests, experiments,
and disguises the problem needed, before it was
permitted to rise before us, and how we had first
to experience the most manifold and opposing
conditions of distress and happiness in soul
and body, as adventurers and circumnavigators of
the inner world called "man," as surveyors of all
the "higher" and the "one-above-another," also
called "man "—penetrating everywhere, almost
without fear, rejecting nothing, losing nothing,
tasting everything, cleansing everything from all
that is accidental, and, as it were, sifting it out
—until at last we could say, we free spirits,
"Here—a new problem! Here a long ladder,
the rungs of which we ourselves have sat upon
and mounted,—which we ourselves at some time
have been! Here a higher place, a lower place,
an under-us, an immeasurably long order, a
hierarchy which we see; here—our problem! "
No psychologist or augur will be in doubt for a
moment as to what stage of the development just
described the following book belongs (or is assigned
## p. 12 (#38) ##############################################
12 v-'- PREFACE.
to). But where are these psychologists nowa-
days? In France, certainly; perhaps in Russia;
assuredly not in Germany. Reasons are not lack-
ing why the present-day Germans could still even
count this as an honour to them—bad enough,
surely, for one who in this respect is un-German
in disposition and constitution! This German
book, which has been able to find readers in a
wide circle of countries and nations—it has been
about ten years going its rounds—and must
understand some sort of music and piping art,
by means of which even coy foreign ears are
seduced into listening,—it is precisely in Germany
that this book has been most negligently read, and
worst listened to; what is the reason ? " It de-
mands too much," I have been told, " it appeals to
men free from the pressure of coarse duties, it wants
refined and fastidious senses, it needs superfluity—
superfluity of time, of clearness of sky and heart,
of otium in the boldest sense of the term :—purely
good things, which we Germans of to-day do not
possess and therefore cannot give. " After such a
polite answer my philosophy advises me to be
silent and not to question further; besides, in cer-
tain cases, as the proverb points out, one only
remains a philosopher by being—silent. *
Nice, Spring 1886.
* An allusion to the mediaeval Latin distich:
O si tacuisses,
Philosophus mansisses. —J. M. K.
## p. 13 (#39) ##############################################
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
FIRST DIVISION.
FIRST AND LAST THINGS.
Chemistry of Ideas and Sensations. —Philo-
sophical problems adopt in almost all matters the
same form of question as they did two thousand
years ago; how can anything spring from its
opposite? for instance, reason out of unreason, the
sentient out of the dead, logic out of unlogic, dis-
interested contemplation out of covetous willing,
life for others out of egoism, truth out of error?
Metaphysical philosophy has helped itself over
those difficulties hitherto by denying the origin of
one thing in another, and assuming a miraculous
origin for more highly valued things, immediately
out of the kernel and essence of the "thing in
itself. " ") Historical philosophy, on the contrary,
which is no longer to be thought of as separate
from physical science, the youngest of all philo-
sophical methods, has ascertained in single cases
(and presumably this will happen in everything)
## p. 14 (#40) ##############################################
14 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that there are no opposites except in the usual
exaggeration of the popular or metaphysical point
of view, and that an error of reason lies at the
bottom of the opposition: according to this ex-
planation, strictly understood, there is neither an
unegoistical action nor an entirely disinterested
point of view, they are both only sublimations in
which the fundamental element appears almost
evaporated, and is only to be discovered by the
closest observation. All that we require, and which
can only be given us by the present advance of
the single sciences, is a chemistry of the moral,
religious, aesthetic ideas and sentiments, as also of
those emotions which we experience in ourselves
both in the great and in the small phases of social
and intellectual intercourse, and even in solitude;
but what if this chemistry should result in the fact
that also in this case the most beautiful colours
have been obtained from base, even despised
materials? Would" many be inclined to pursue
such examinations? Humanity likes to put all
questions as to origin and beginning out of its
mind; must one not be almost dehumanised to
feel a contrary tendency in one's self?
2.
Inherited Faults of Philosophers. —All
philosophers have the common fault that they
start from man in his present state and hope to
attain their end by an analysis of him. Uncon-
sciously they look upon " man " as an (Sterna Veritas,
as a thing unchangeable in all commotion, as a sure
## p. 15 (#41) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 15
standard of things. But everything that the philo-
sopher says about man is really nothing more than
testimony about the man of a very limited space
of time. A lack of the historical sense is the
hereditary fault of all philosophers; many, indeed,
unconsciously mistake the very latest variety of man,
such as has arisen under the influence of certain
religions, certain political events, for the permanent
form from which one must set out. They will
not learn that man has developed, that his faculty
of knowledge has developed also; whilst for some
of them the entire world is spun out of this faculty
of knowledge. Now everything essential in human! '
development happened in pre-historic times, long,
before those four thousand years which we know|
something of; man may not have changed much
during this time. But the philosopher sees " in-
stincts " in the present man and takes it for granted
that this is one of the unalterable facts of man-
kind, and, consequently, can furnish a key to the
understanding of the world; the entire teleology
is so constructed that man of the last four thousand
years is spoken of as an eternal being, towards
which all things in the world have from the be-
ginning a natural direction. But everything has
evolved; there are no eternal facts, as there are
likewise no absolute truths. Therefore, historical
philosophising is henceforth necessary, and with it
the virtue of diffidence.
3-
Appreciation of Unpretentious Truths. It is a mark of a higher culture to value the
## p. 16 (#42) ##############################################
l6 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
little unpretentious truths, which have been found
by means of strict method, more highly than the
joy-diffusing and dazzling errors which spring from
metaphysical and artistic times and peoples. First
of all one has scorn on the lips for the former, as
if here nothing could have equal privileges with
anything else, so unassuming, simple, bashful,
apparently discouraging are they, so beautiful,
stately, intoxicating, perhaps even animating, are
the others. But the hardly attained, the certain,
the lasting, and therefore of great consequence for
all wider knowledge, is still the higher; to keep
one's self to that is manly and shows bravery, sim-
plicity, and forbearance. Gradually not only single
individuals but the whole of mankind will be
raised to this manliness, when it has at last
accustomed itself to the higher appreciation of
durable, lasting knowledge, and has lost all belief
in inspiration and the miraculous communication
of truths. Respecters of forms, certainly, with
their standard of the beautiful and noble, will first
of all have good reasons for mockery, as soon as
the appreciation of unpretentious truths, and the
scientific spirit, begin to obtain the mastery; but
only because their, eye has either not yet recog-
nised the charm of the simplest form, or because
men educated in that spirit are not yet completely
and inwardly saturated by it, so that they still
thoughtlessly imitate old forms (and badly enough,
as one does who no longer cares much about the
matter). Formerly the spirit was not occupied
with strict thought, its earnestness then lay in
the spinning out of symbols and forms. This is
## p. 17 (#43) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 17
changed; that earnestness in the symbolical has
become the mark of a lower culture. As our arts
themselves grow evermore intellectual, our senses
more spiritual, and as, for instance, people now
judge concerning what sounds well to the senses
quite differently from how they did a hundred
years ago, so the. forms of our life grow ever
more spiritual, to the eye of older ages perhaps
uglier, but only because it is incapable of perceiv-
ing how the kingdom of the inward, spiritual
beauty constantly grows deeper and wider, and to
what extent the inner intellectual look may be of
more importance to us all than the most beautiful
bodily frame and the. noblest architectural structure.
4-
Astrology and the Like. —It is probable
that the objects of religious, moral, aesthetic and
logical sentiment likewise belong only to the sur-
face of things, while man willingly believes that
here, at least, he has touched the heart of the
world; he deceives himself, because those things
enrapture him so profoundly, and make him so pro-
foundly unhappy, and he therefore shows the same
pride here as in astrology. For astrology believes
that the firmament moves round the destiny of
man; the moral man, however, takes it for granted
that what he has essentially at heart must also be
the essence and heart of things.
Misunderstanding of Dreams.
—In the ages i
of a rude and primitive civilisation man believed I
VOL. i. B
## p. 18 (#44) ##############################################
18 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that in dreams he became acquainted with a second
actual world; herein lies the origin of all meta-
physics. Without dreams there could have been
found no reason for a division of the world. The
distinction, too, between soul and body is connected
with the most ancient comprehension of dreams,
also the supposition of an imaginary soul-body,
therefore the origin of all belief in spirits, and
probably also the belief in gods. "The dead
continues to live, for he appears to the living
in a dream": thus men reasoned of old for
thousands and thousands of years.
The Scientific Spirit partially but not
wholly Powerful. —The smallest subdivisions
of science taken separately are dealt with purely
in relation to themselves,—the general, great
sciences, on the contrary, regarded as a whole, call
up the question—certainly a very non-objective
one—" Wherefore? To what end? " It is this
utilitarian consideration which causes them to be
dealt with less impersonally when taken as a
whole than when considered in their various parts.
In philosophy, above all, as the apex of the entire
pyramid of science, the question as to the utility of
knowledge is involuntarily brought forward, and
every philosophy has the unconscious intention of
ascribing to it the greatest usefulness. For this
reason there is so much high-flying metaphysics
in all philosophies and such a shyness of the
apparently unimportant solutions of physics; for
*
## p. 19 (#45) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 19
the importance of knowledge for life must appear
as great as possible. Here is the antagonism
between the separate provinces of science and
philosophy, The latter desires, what art does, to
give the greatest possible depth and meaning to
life and actions; in the former one seeks know-
ledge and nothing further, whatever may emerge
thereby. So far there has been no philosopher in
whose hands philosophy has not grown into an
apology for knowledge; on this point, at least,
every one is an optimist, that the greatest usefulness
must be ascribed to knowledge. They are all
tyrannised over by logic, and this is optimism—in
its essence.
7-
The Kill-joy in Science. — Philosophy
separated from science when it asked the question,
"Which is the knowledge of the world and of life
which enables man to live most happily? " This
happened in the Socratic schools; the veins of
scientific investigation were bound up by the
point of view of happiness,—and are so still.
Pneumatic Explanation of Nature. —
Metaphysics explains the writing of Nature, so to
speak,pneumatically, as the Church and her learned
men formerly did with the Bible. A great deal
of understanding is required to apply to Nature
the same method of strict interpretation as the
philologists have now established for all books,
## p. 20 (#46) ##############################################
20 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
with the intention of clearly understanding what
the text means, but not suspecting a double sense
or even taking it for granted. Just, however, as
with regard to books, the bad art of interpretation
is by no means overcome, and in the most
cultivated society one still constantly comes across
the remains of allegorical and mystic interpretation,
so it is also with regard to Nature, indeed it is
even much worse.
9-.
The Metaphysical World. —It is true that
there might be a metaphysical world; the absolute
possibility of it is hardly to be disputed. We
look at everything through the human head and
cannot cut this head off; while the question
remains, What would be left of the world if it had
been cut off? This is a purely scientific problem,
and one not very likely to trouble mankind;
but everything which has hitherto made meta-
physical suppositions valuable, terrible, delightful
for man, what has produced them, is passion, error,
and self-deception; the very worst methods of
knowledge, not the best, have taught belief therein.
When these methods have been discovered as the
foundation of all existing religions and meta-
physics, they have been refuted. Then there still
always remains that possibility; but there is
nothing to be done with it, much less is it possible
to let happiness, salvation, and life depend on the
spider-thread of such a possibility. For nothing
could be said of the metaphysical world but that
it would be a different condition, a condition in-
## p. 21 (#47) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 21
accessible and incomprehensible to us; it would
be a thing of negative qualities. Were the
existence of such a world ever so well proved, the
fact would nevertheless remain that it would be
precisely the most irrelevant of all forms of
knowledge: more irrelevant than the knowledge
of the chemical analysis of water to the sailor in
danger in a storm.
IO.
The Harmlessness of Metaphysics in the
Future. —Directly the origins of religion, art,
and morals have been so described that one can
perfectly explain them without having recourse to
metaphysical concepts at the beginning and in the
course of the path, the strongest interest in the
purely theoretical problem of the " thing-in-itself"
and the "phenomenon" ceases. For however it
may be here, with religion, art, and morals we do
not touch the "essence of the world in itself" ; we
are in the domain of representation, no " intuition"
can carry us further. With the greatest calmness
we shall leave the question as to how our own
conception of the world can differ so widely from
the revealed essence of the world, to physiology
and the history of the evolution of organisms and
ideas.
11.
'Language as a Presumptive Science. —
The importance of language for the development
of culture lies in the fact that in language man has
## p. 22 (#48) ##############################################
22 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
placed a world of his own beside the other, a
position which he deemed so fixed that he might
therefrom lift the rest of the world off its hinges,
and make himself master of it. Inasmuch as
man has believed in the ideas and names of things
as aterncB veritates for a great length of time, he
has acquired that pride by which he has raised
himself above the animal; he really thought that
in language he possessed the knowledge of the
world. The maker of language was not modest
enough to think that he only gave designations to
things, he believed rather that with his words he
expressed the widest knowledge of the things; in
reality language is the first step in the endeavour
after science. Here also it is belief in ascertained
truth, from which the mightiest sources of strength
have flowed. Much later—only now—it is dawn-
ing upon men that they have propagated a
tremendous error in their belief in language.
Fortunately it is now too late to reverse the
development of reason, which is founded upon that
belief. Logic, also, is founded upon suppositions
to which nothing in the actual world corresponds,—
for instance, on the supposition of the equality of
things, and the identity of the same thing at
different points of time,—but that particular
science arose out of the contrary belief (that such
things really existed in the actual world). It is
the same with mathematics, which would certainly
not have arisen if it had been known from the
beginning that in Nature there are no exactly
straight lines, no real circle, no absolute standard
of size.
## p. 23 (#49) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 23
12.
Dream and Culture. —The function of the
brain which is most influenced by sleep is the
memory; not that it entirely ceases; but it is
brought back to a condition of imperfection, such as
everyone may have experienced in pre-historic times,
whether asleep or awake. Arbitrary and confused
as it is, it constantly confounds things on the
ground of the most fleeting resemblances; but
with the same arbitrariness and confusion the
ancients invented their mythologies, and even at
the present day travellers are accustomed to
remark how prone the savage is to forgetfulness,
how, after a short tension of memory, his mind
begins to sway here and there from sheer weariness
and gives forth lies and nonsense. But in dreams
we all resemble the savage; bad recognition and
erroneous comparisons are the reasons of the bad
conclusions, of which we are guilty in dreams: so
that, when we clearly recollect what we have
dreamt, we are alarmed at ourselves at harbour-
ing so much foolishness within us. The perfect
distinctness of all dream-representations, which
pre-suppose absolute faith in their reality, recall
the conditions that appertain to primitive man,
in whom hallucination was extraordinarily frequent,
and sometimes simultaneously seized entire com-
munities, entire nations. Therefore, in sleep and
in dreams we once more carry out the task of
early humanity.
/
## p. 24 (#50) ##############################################
24 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
13-
The Logic of Dreams. —In sleep our nervous
system is perpetually excited by numerous inner
occurrences; nearly all the organs are disjointed
and in a state of activity, the blood runs its
turbulent course, the position of the sleeper causes
pressure on certain limbs, his coverings influence
his sensations in various ways, the stomach digests
and by its movements it disturbs other organs,
the intestines writhe, the position of the head
occasions unaccustomed play of muscles, the feet,
unshod, not pressing upon the floor with the soles,
occasion the feeling of the unaccustomed just as
does the different clothing of the whole body:
all this, according to its daily change and extent,
excites by its extraordinariness the entire system
to the very functions of the brain;, and thus there
are a hundred occasions for the spirit to be sur-
prised and to seek for the reasons of this excita-
tion ;—the dream, however, is the seeking and
representing of the causes of those excited sensa-
tions,—that is, of the supposed causes. A person
who, for instance, binds his feet with two straps
will perhaps dream that two serpents are coiling
round his feet; this is first hypothesis, then a
belief, with an accompanying mental picture and
interpretation—" These serpents must be the causa
of those sensations which I, the sleeper, experi-
ence,"—so decides the mind of the sleeper. The
immediate past, so disclosed, becomes to him the
present through his excited imagination. Thus
every one knows from experience how quickly the
## p. 25 (#51) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 2$
dreamer weaves into his dream a loud sound that
he hears, such as the ringing of bells or the firing
of cannon, that is to say, explains it from after-
wards so that he first thinks he experiences the
producing circumstances and then that sound.
But how does it happen that the mind of the
dreamer is always so mistaken, while the same
mind when awake is accustomed to be so tem-
perate, careful, and sceptical with regard to its
hypotheses? so that the first random hypo-
thesis for the explanation of a feeling suffices for
him to believe immediately in its truth? (For in
dreaming we believe in the dream as if it were a
reality, i. e. we think our hypothesis completely
proved. ) I hold, that as man now still reasons'!
in dreams, so men reasoned also when awake
through thousands of years; the first causa which}
occurred to the mind to explain anything that;
required an explanation, was sufficient and stood;
for truth. (Thus, according to travellers' tales,;
savages still do to this very day. ) This ancienti
element in human nature still manifests itself in,
our dreams, for it is the foundation upon which i
the higher reason has developed and still develops I
in every individual; the dream carries us back
into remote conditions of human culture, and pro-
vides a ready means of understanding them better.
Dream-thinking is now so easy to us because'
during immense periods of human development
we have been so well drilled in this form of
fantastic and cheap explanation, by means of the
first agreeable notions. In so far, dreaming is a
recreation for the brain, which by day has to
## p. 26 (#52) ##############################################
26 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
satisfy the stern demands of thought, as they are
\Jaid down by the higher culture. We can at
once discern an allied process even in our
awakened state, as the door and ante-room of the
dream. If we shut our eyes, the brain produces
a number of impressions of light and colour, prob-
ably as a kind of after-play and echo of all
those effects of light which crowd in upon it by
day. Now, however, the understanding, together
with the imagination, instantly works up this
play of colour, shapeless in itself, into definite
figures, forms, landscapes, and animated groups.
The actual accompanying process thereby is again
a kind of conclusion from the effect to the cause:
since the mind asks, " Whence come these impres-
sions of light and colour? " it supposes those
figures and forms as causes; it takes them for the
origin of those colours and lights, because in the
daytime, with open eyes, it is accustomed to find
a producing cause for every colour, every effect of
light. Here, therefore, the imagination constantly
places pictures before the mind, since it supports
itself on the visual impressions of the day in their
production, and the dream-imagination does just
the same thing,—that is, the supposed cause is
deduced from the effect and represented after the
effect; all this happens with extraordinary rapidity,
so that here, as with the conjuror, a Confusion of
judgment may arise and a sequence may look like
something simultaneous, or even like a reversed
sequence. From these circumstances we may
gather how itift/j/ the more acute logical thinking,
the strict discrimination of cause and effect has
## p. 27 (#53) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 27
been developed, when our reasoning and under-
standing faculties still involuntarily hark back to
those primitive forms of deduction, and when we
pass about half our life in this condition. The
poet, too, and the artist assign causes for their
moods and conditions which are by no means the
true ones; in this they recall an older humanity
and can assist us to the understanding of it.
14.
Co-ECHOING. —-All stronger moods bring with
them a co-echoing of kindred sensations and
moods, they grub up the memory, so to speak.
Along with them something within us remembers
and becomes conscious of similar conditions and
their origin. Thus there are formed quick habit-
ual connections of feelings and thoughts, which
eventually, when they follow each other with
lightning speed, are no longer felt as complexes
but as unities. In this sense one speaks of the
moral feeling, of the religious feeling, as if they
were absolute unities: in reality they are streams
with a hundred sources and tributaries. Here
also, as so often happens, the unity of the word
is no security for the unity of the thing.
IS-
No Internal and External in the
WORLD. —As Democritus transferred the con-
cepts "above" and "below" to endless space
where they have no sense, so philosophers in
## p. 28 (#54) ##############################################
28 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
general have transferred the concepts "Internal"
and " External" to the essence and appearance of
the world; they think that with deep feelings one
can penetrate deeply into the internal and ap-
proach the heart of Nature. But these feelings
are only deep in so far as along with fhem, barely
noticeable, certain complicated groups of thoughts,
which we call deep, are regularly excited; a feel-
ing is deep because we think that the accompany-
ing thought is deep. But the "deep" thought
can nevertheless be very far from the truth, as, for
instance, every metaphysical one; if one take away
from the deep feeling the commingled elements
of thought, then the strong feeling remains, and
this guarantees nothing for knowledge but itself,
just as strong faith proves only its strength and
not the truth of what is believed in.
16.
Phenomenon and Thing-in-itself. —Phil-
osophers are in the habit of setting themselves
before life and experience—before that which they
call the world of appearance—as before a picture
that is once for all unrolled and exhibits unchange-
ably fixed the same process,—this process, they
think, must be rightly interpreted in order to come
to a conclusion about the being that produced the
picture: about the thing-in-itself, therefore, which
is always accustomed to be regarded as sufficient
ground for the world of phenomenon. On the
other hand, since one always makes the idea of the
metaphysical stand definitely as that of the uncon-
## p. 29 (#55) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 29
ditioned, consequently also unconditioning, one
must directly disown all connection between the
unconditioned (the metaphysical world) and the
world which is known to us; so that the thing-in-
itself should most certainly not appear in the
phenomenon, and every conclusion from the former
as regards the latter is to be rejected. Both
sides overlook the fact that that picture—that
which we now call human life and experience—
has gradually evolved,—nay, is still in the full pro-
cess of evolving,—and therefore should not be
regarded as a fixed magnitude from which a con-
clusion about its originator might be deduced (the
sufficing cause) or even merely neglected. It is
because for thousands of years we have looked
into the world with moral, aesthetic, and religious
pretensions, with blind inclination, passion, or fear,
and have surfeited ourselves in the vices of illogical
thought, that this world has gradually become so
marvellously motley, terrible, full of meaning and
of soul, it has acquired colour—but we were the
colourists; the human intellect, on the basis of
human needs, of human emotions, has caused this
'/ phenomenon" to appear and has carried its
erroneous fundamental conceptions into things.
Late, very late, it takes to thinking, and now the
world of experience and the thing-in-itself seem
to it so extraordinarily different and separated,
that it gives up drawing conclusions from the
former to the latter—or in a terribly mysterious
manner demands the renunciation of our intellect,
of our personal will, in order thereby to reach the
essential, that one may become essential. Again,
## p. 30 (#56) ##############################################
30 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
others have collected all the characteristic features
of our world of phenomenon,—that is, the idea of
the world spun out of intellectual errors and in-
herited by us,—and instead of accusing the intellect
as the offenders, they have laid the blame on the
nature of things as being the cause of the hard fact
of this very sinister character of the world, and have
preached the deliverance from Being. With all
these conceptions the constant and laborious pro-
cess of science (which at last celebrates its great-
est triumph in a history of the origin of thought)
becomes completed in various ways, the result of
which might perhaps run as follows :—"That which
we now call the world is the result of a mass of
errors and fantasies which arose gradually in the
general development of organic being, which are
inter-grown with each other, and are now inherited
by us as the accumulated treasure of all the past,
—as a treasure, for the value of our humanity
depends upon it. From this world of representa-
tion strict science is really only able to liberate
us to a very slight extent—as it is also not at
all desirable—inasmuch as it cannot essentially
break the power of primitive habits of feeling; but
it can gradually elucidate the history of the rise of
that world as representation,—and lift us, at least
for moments, above and beyond the whole process.
Perhaps we shall then recognise that the thing in
itself is worth a Homeric laugh; that it seemed
so much, indeed everything, and is really empty,
namely, empty of meaning. "
## p. 31 (#57) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 31
17-
Metaphysical Explanations. —The young
man values metaphysical explanations, because
they show him something highly significant in
things which he found unpleasant or despicable,
and if he is dissatisfied with himself, the feeling
becomes lighter when he recognises the innermost
world-puzzle or world-misery in that which he so
strongly disapproves of in himself. To feel him-
self less responsible and at the same time to find
things more interesting—that seems to him a
double benefit for which he has to thank meta-
physics. Later on, certainly, he gets distrustful
of the whole metaphysical method of explanation;
then perhaps it grows clear to him that those
results can be obtained equally well and more
scientifically in another way: that physical and
historical explanations produce the feeling of
personal relief to at least the same extent,
and that the interest in life and its problems is
perhaps still more aroused thereby.
18.
Fundamental Questions of Metaphysics.
—When the history of the rise of thought comes
to be written, a new light will be thrown on the
following statement of a distinguished logician:—
"The primordial general law of the cognisant
subject consists in the inner necessity of recog-
nising every object in itself in its own nature, as a
thing identical with itself, consequently self-exist-
## p. 32 (#58) ##############################################
32 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
ing and at bottom remaining ever the same
and unchangeable: in short, in recognising every-
thing as a substance. " Even this law, which is
here called " primordial," has evolved: it will some
day be shown how gradually this tendency arises
in the lower organisms, how the feeble mole-eyes
of their organisations at first see only the same
thing,—how then, when the various awakenings
of pleasure and displeasure become noticeable,
various substances are gradually distinguished, but
each with one attribute, i. e. one single relation to
such an organism. The first step in logic is the
judgment,—the nature of which, according to the
decision of the best logicians, consists in belief.
At the bottom of all belief lies the sensation of the
pleasant or the painful in relation to the sentient
subject. A new third sensation as the result of
two previous single sensations is the judgment
in its simplest form. We organic beings have
originally no interest in anything but its relation to
us in connection with pleasure and pain. Between
the moments (the states of feeling) when we become
conscious of this connection, lie moments of rest,
of non-feeling; the world and everything is then
without interest for us, we notice no change in it
(as even now a deeply interested person does not
notice when any one passes him). To the plant,
things are as a rule tranquil and eternal, every-
thing like itself. From the period of the lower
organisms man has inherited the belief that
similar things exist (this theory is only con-
tradicted by the matured experience of the most
advanced science). The primordial belief of
## p. 33 (#59) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 33
everything organic from the beginning is perhaps
, even this, that all the rest of the world is one and
immovable. The point furthest removed from
those early beginnings of logic is the idea of
Causality,—indeed we still really think that all
sensations and activities are acts of the free will;
when the sentient individual contemplates himself,
he regards every sensation, every alteration as
something isolated, that is to say, unconditioned
and disconnected,—it rises up in us without con-
nection with anything foregoing or following.
We are hungry, but do not originally think that
the organism must be nourished; the feeling seems
to make itself felt without cause and purpose, it
isolates itself and regards itself as arbitrary.
Therefore, belief in the freedom of the will is an
original error of everything organic, as old as the
existence of the awakenings of logic in it; the
belief in unconditioned substances and similar
> things is equally a primordial as well as an old
error of everything organic. But inasmuch as
all metaphysics has concerned itself chiefly with
substance and the freedom of will, it may be
designated as the science which treats of the
fundamental errors of mankind, but treats of
them as if they were fundamental truths.
19-
Number. —The discovery of the laws of numbers
is made upon the ground of the original, already
prevailing error, that there are many similar things
(but in reality there is nothing similar), at least,
## p. 34 (#60) ##############################################
34 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that there are things (but there is no "thing").
The supposition of plurality always presumes that
there is something which appears frequently,—but
here already error reigns, already we imagine
beings, unities, which do not exist. Our sensations
of space and time are false, for they lead—ex-
amined in sequence—to logical contradictions.
In all scientific determinations we always reckon
inevitably with certain false quantities, but as these
quantities are at least constant, as, for instance,
our sensation of time and space, the conclusions
of science have still perfect accuracy and certainty
in their connection with one another; one may
continue to build upon them—until that final limit
where the erroneous original suppositions, those
constant faults, come into conflict with the con-
clusions, for instance in the doctrine of atoms.
There still we always feel ourselves compelled to
the acceptance of a "thing" or material "sub-
stratum" that is moved, whilst the whole scientific
procedure has pursued the very task of resolving
everything substantial (material) into motion; here,
too, we still separate with our sensation the mover
and the moved and cannot get out of this circle,
because the belief in things has from immemorial
times been bound up with our being. When Kant
says, "The understanding does not derive its
laws from Nature, but dictates them to her," it is
perfectly true with regard to the idea of Nature
which we are compelled to associate with her
(Nature = World as representation, that is to say
as error), but which is the summing up of a
number of errors of the understanding. The laws
## p. 35 (#61) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 35
of numbers are entirely inapplicable to a world
which is not our representation—these laws obtain
only in the human world.
20.
A Few Steps Back. —A degree of culture,
and assuredly a very high one, is attained when
man rises above superstitious and religious notions
and fears, and, for instance, no longer believes in
guardian angels or in original sin, and has also
ceased to talk of the salvation of his soul,—if he
has attained to this degree of freedom, he has still
also to overcome metaphysics with the greatest
exertion of his intelligence. Then, however, a re-
trogressive movement is necessary; he must under-
stand the historical justification as well as the
psychological in such representations, he must
recognise how the greatest advancement of
humanity has come therefrom, and how, without
such a retrocursive movement, we should have
been robbed of the best products of hitherto
existing mankind. With regard to philosophical
metaphysics, I always see increasing numbers
who have attained to the negative goal (that all
positive metaphysics is error), but as yet few who
. climb a few rungs backwards; one ought to look
out, perhaps, over the last steps of the ladder, but
not try to stand upon them. The most enlightened
only succeed so far as to free themselves from
metaphysics and look back upon it with superiority,
while it is necessary here, too, as in the hippo-
drome, to turn round the end of the course.
## p. 36 (#62) ##############################################
36 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
21.
Conjectural Victory of Scepticism. —For
once let the sceptical starting-point be accepted,
—granted that there were no other metaphysical
world, and all explanations drawn from meta-
physics about the only world we know were useless
to us, in what light should we then look upon
men and things? We can think this out for
ourselves, it is useful, even though the question
whether anything metaphysical has been scientific-
ally proved by Kant and Schopenhauer were
altogether set aside. For it is quite possible,
according to historical probability, that some time
or other man, as a general rule, may grow sceptical;
the question will then be this: What form will
human society take under the influence of such a
mode of thought? Perhaps the scientific proof of
some metaphysical world or other is already so
difficult that mankind will never get rid of a cer-
tain distrust of it. And when there is distrust
of metaphysics, there are on the whole the same
results as if it had been directly refuted and could
no longer be believed in. The historical question
with regard to an unmetaphysical frame of mind
in mankind remains the same in both cases.
22.
Unbelief in the " Monumentum alre per-
ennius. " — An actual drawback which accom-
panies the cessation of metaphysical views lies in the
fact that the individual looks upon his short span
## p. 37 (#63) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 37
of life too exclusively and receives no stronger in-
centives to build durable institutions intended to
last for centuries,—he himself wishes to pluck the
fruit from the tree which he plants, and therefore
he no longer plants those trees which require
regular care for centuries, and which are destined
to afford shade to a long series of generations.
For metaphysical views furnish the belief that in
them the last conclusive foundation has been given,
upon which henceforth all the future of mankind
is compelled to settle down and establish itself;
the individual furthers his salvation, when, for
instance, he founds a church or convent, he thinks
it will be reckoned to him and recompensed to
him in the eternal life of the soul, it is work for
the soul's eternal salvation. Can science also
arouse such faith in its results? As a matter of
fact, it needs doubt and distrust as its most faithful
auxiliaries; nevertheless in the course of time, the
sum of inviolable truths—those, namely, which
have weathered all the storms of scepticism, and
all destructive analysis—may have become so great
(in the regimen of health, for instance), that one
may determine to found thereupon "eternal" works.
For the present the contrast between our excited
ephemeral existence and the long-winded repose
of metaphysical ages still operates too strongly,
because the two ages still stand too closely
together; the individual man himself now goes
through too many inward and outward develop-
ments for him to venture to arrange his own
lifetime permanently, and once and for all. An
entirely modern man, for instance, who is going
## p. 38 (#64) ##############################################
38 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
to build himself a house, has a feeling as if he
were going to immure himself alive in a mausoleum.
23-
The Age of Comparison. —The less men are
fettered by tradition, the greater becomes the
inward activity of their motives; the greater, again,
in proportion thereto, the outward restlessness, the
confused flux of mankind, the polyphony of striv-
ings. For whom is there still an absolute com-
pulsion to bind himself and his descendants to one
place? For whom is there still anything strictly
compulsory? As all styles of arts are imitated
simultaneously, so also are all grades and kinds of
morality, of customs, of cultures. Such an age
obtains its importance because in it the various
views of the world, customs, and cultures can be
compared and experienced simultaneously,—which
was formerly not possible with the always localised
sway of every culture, corresponding to the root-
ing of all artistic styles in place and time.
An increased aesthetic feeling will now at last
decide amongst so many forms presenting them-
selves for comparison; it will allow the greater
number, that is to say all those rejected by it, to
die out.
I see them coming, slowly, slowly; and perhaps I
am doing something to hasten their coming when
I describe in advance under what auspices I see
them originate, and upon what paths I see them
come.
One may suppose that a spirit in which the
type "free spirit" is to become fully mature and
sweet, has had its decisive event in a great emanci-
pation, and that it was all the more fettered pre-
viously and apparently bound for ever to its corner
and pillar. What is it that binds most strongly?
What cords are almost unrendable? In men of
a lofty and select type it will be their duties; the
reverence which is suitable to youth, respect and
tenderness for all that is time-honoured and worthy,
gratitude to the land which bore them, to the hand
which led them, to the sanctuary where they learnt
to adore,—their most exalted moments themselves
will bind them most effectively, will lay upon them
the most enduring obligations. For those who are
thus bound the great emancipation comes suddenly,
like an earthquake; the young soul is all at once
convulsed, unloosened and extricated—it does not
itself know what is happening. An impulsion
and compulsion sway and over-master it like a
command; a will and a wish awaken, to go forth
on their course, anywhere, at any cost; a violent,
dangerous curiosity about an undiscovered world
flames and flares in every sense. "Better to
## p. 5 (#27) ###############################################
PREFACE. 5
die than live here "—says the imperious voice and
seduction, and this "here," this "at home" is all
that the soul has hitherto loved! A sudden fear
and suspicion of that which it loved, a flash of
disdain for what was called its " duty," a rebellious,
arbitrary, volcanically throbbing longing for travel,
foreignness, estrangement, coldness, disenchant-
ment, glaciation, a hatred of love, perhaps a sacri-
legious clutch and look backwards, to where it
hitherto adored and loved, perhaps a glow of
shame at what it was just doing, and at the same
time a rejoicing that it was doing it, an intoxicated,
internal, exulting thrill which betrays a triumph
—a triumph? Over what? Over whom? An
enigmatical, questionable, doubtful triumph, but
the first triumph nevertheless ;—such evil and
painful incidents belong to . the history of the great
emancipation. It is, at the same time, a disease
which may destroy the man, this first outbreak of
power and will to self-decision, self-valuation, this
will to free will; and how much disease is mani-
fested in the wild attempts and eccentricities by
which the liberated and emancipated one now
seeks to demonstrate his mastery over things! He
roves about raging with unsatisfied longing; what-
ever he captures has to suffer for the dangerous
tension of his pride; he tears to pieces whatever
attracts him. With a malicious laugh he twirls'
round whatever he finds veiled or guarded by a
sense of shame; he tries how these things look
when turned upside down. It is a matter of
arbitrariness with him, and pleasure in arbitrariness,
if he now perhaps bestow his favour on what
## p. 6 (#28) ###############################################
6 PREFACE.
had hitherto a bad repute,—if he inquisitively
and temptingly haunt what is specially forbidden.
In the background of his activities and wanderings
—for he is restless and aimless in his course as in
a desert—stands the note of interrogation of an
increasingly dangerous curiosity. "Cannot all
valuations be reversed? And is good perhaps
evil? And God only an invention and artifice
of the devil? Is everything, perhaps, radically
false? And if we are the deceived, are we not
thereby also deceivers? Must we not also be
|__deceivers ? "—Such thoughts lead and mislead
r<" him more and more, onward and away. Solitude
li=- encircles and engirdles him, always more threaten-
ing, more throttling, more heart-oppressing, that
terrible goddess and mater sceva cupidinum—but
who knows nowadays what solitude is? . . .
From this morbid solitariness, from the desert
of such years of experiment, it is still a long way
to the copious, overflowing safety and soundness
which does not care to dispense with disease
itself as an instrument and angling-hook of
knowledge;—to that mature freedom of spirit
which is equally self-control and discipline of
the heart, and gives access to many and opposed
modes of thought;—to that inward comprehen-
siveness and daintiness of superabundance, which
excludes any danger of the spirit's becoming
enamoured and lost in its own paths, and
## p. 7 (#29) ###############################################
PREFACE. 7
lying intoxicated in some corner or other; to that
excess of plastic, healing, formative, and restorative
powers, which is exactly the sign of splendid
health, that excess which gives the free spirit
the dangerous prerogative of being entitled to
live by experiments and offer itself to adventure;
the free spirit's prerogative of mastership! Long
years of convalescence may lie in between, years
full of many-coloured, painfully-enchanting magi-
cal transformations, curbed and led by a tough
will to health, which often dares to dress and
disguise itself as actual health. There is a middle
condition therein, which a man of such a fate
never calls to mind later on without emotion; a
pale, delicate light and a sunshine-happiness are
peculiar to him, a feeling of bird-like freedom,
prospect, and haughtiness, a tertium quid in
which curiosity and gentle disdain are combined.
A "free spirit"—this cool expression does good
in every condition, it almost warms. One no
longer lives, in the fetters of love and hatred,
without Yea, without Nay, voluntarily near,
voluntarily distant, preferring to escape, to turn
aside, to flutter forth, to fly up and away; one
is fastidious like every one who has once seen
an immense variety beneath him,—and one has
become the opposite of those who trouble them-
selves about things which do not concern them.
In fact, it is nothing but things which now
concern the free spirit,—and how many things ! —
which no longer trouble him!
## p. 7 (#30) ###############################################
6 PREFACE.
I
had hitherto a bad repute,—if he inquisitively
and temptingly haunt what is specially forbidden.
In the background of his activities and wanderings
—for he is restless and aimless in his course as in
a desert—stands the note of interrogation of an
increasingly dangerous curiosity. "Cannot all
valuations be reversed? And is good perhaps
evil? And God only an invention and artifice
of the devil? Is everything, perhaps, radically
false? And if we are the deceived, are we not
thereby also deceivers? Must we not also be
I deceivers ? "—Such thoughts lead and mislead
him more and more, onward and away. Solitude
encircles and engirdles him, always more threaten-
ing, more throttling, more heart-oppressing, that
terrible goddess and mater s<Eva cupidinunt—but
who knows nowadays what solitude is? . . .
From this morbid solitariness, from the desert
of such years of experiment, it is still a long way
to the copious, overflowing safety and soundness
which does not care to dispense with disease
itself as an instrument and angling-hook of
knowledge;—to that mature freedom of spirit
which is equally self-control and discipline of
the heart, and gives access to many and opposed
modes of thought ;—to that inward comprehen-
siveness and daintiness of superabundance, which
excludes any danger of the spirit's becoming
enamoured and lost in its own paths, and
## p. 7 (#31) ###############################################
PREFACE. 7
lying intoxicated in some corner or other; to that
excess of plastic, healing, formative, and restorative
powers, which is exactly the sign of splendid
health, that excess which gives the free spirit
the dangerous prerogative of being entitled to
live by experiments and offer itself to adventure;
the free spirit's prerogative of mastership! Long
years of convalescence may lie in between, years
full of many-coloured, painfully-enchanting magi-
cal transformations, curbed and led by a tough
will to health, which often dares to dress and
disguise itself as actual health. There is a middle
condition therein, which a man of such a fate
never calls to mind later on without emotion; a
pale, delicate light and a sunshine-happiness are
peculiar to him, a feeling of bird-like freedom,
prospect, and haughtiness, a tertium quid in
which curiosity and gentle disdain are combined.
A "free spirit"—this cool expression does good
in every condition, it almost warms. One no
longer lives, in the fetters of love and hatred,
without Yea, without Nay, voluntarily near,
voluntarily distant, preferring to escape, to turn
aside, to flutter forth, to fly up and away; one
is fastidious like every one who has once seen
an immense variety beneath him,—and one has
become the opposite of those who trouble them-
selves about things which do not concern them.
In fact, it is nothing but things which now
concern the free spirit,—and how many things ! —
which no longer trouble him!
## p. 7 (#32) ###############################################
6 PREFACE.
I
L
had hitherto a bad repute,—if he inquisitively
and temptingly haunt what is specially forbidden.
In the background of his activities and wanderings
—for he is restless and aimless in his course as in
a desert—stands the note of interrogation of an
increasingly dangerous curiosity. "Cannot all
valuations be reversed? And is good perhaps
evil? And God only an invention and artifice
of the devil? Is everything, perhaps, radically
false? And if we are the deceived, are we not
thereby also deceivers? Must we not also be
I deceivers ? "—Such thoughts lead and mislead
him more and more, onward and away. Solitude
encircles and engirdles him, always more threaten-
ing, more throttling, more heart-oppressing, that
terrible goddess and mater sceva cupidinum—but
who knows nowadays what solitude is? . . .
4.
From this morbid solitariness, from the desert
of such years of experiment, it is still a long way
to the copious, overflowing safety and soundness
which does not care to dispense with disease
itself as an instrument and angling-hook of
knowledge;—to that mature freedom of spirit
which is equally self-control and discipline of
the heart, and gives access to many and opposed
modes of thought ;—to that inward comprehen-
siveness and daintiness of superabundance, which
excludes any danger of the spirit's becoming
enamoured and lost in its own paths, and
## p. 7 (#33) ###############################################
PREFACE. 7
lying intoxicated in some corner or other; to that
excess of plastic, healing, formative, and restorative
powers, which is exactly the sign of splendid
health, that excess which gives the free spirit
the dangerous prerogative of being entitled to
live by experiments and offer itself to adventure;
the free spirit's prerogative of mastership! Long
years of convalescence may lie in between, years
full of many-coloured, painfully-enchanting magi-
cal transformations, curbed and led by a tough
will to health, which often dares to dress and
disguise itself as actual health. There is a middle
condition therein, which a man of such a fate
never calls to mind later on without emotion; a
pale, delicate light and a sunshine-happiness are
peculiar to him, a feeling of bird-like freedom,
prospect, and haughtiness, a tertium quid in
which curiosity and gentle disdain are combined.
A "free spirit"—this cool expression does good
in every condition, it almost warms. One no
longer lives, in the fetters of love and hatred,
without Yea, without Nay, voluntarily near,
voluntarily distant, preferring to escape, to turn
aside, to flutter forth, to fly up and away; one
is fastidious like every one who has once seen
an immense variety beneath him,—and one has
become the opposite of those who trouble them-
selves about things which do not concern them.
In fact, it is nothing but things which now
concern the free spirit,—and how many things ! —
which no longer trouble him!
## p. 8 (#34) ###############################################
PREFACE.
5-
A step further towards recovery, and the free
spirit again draws near to life; - slowly, it is
true, and almost stubbornly, almost distrustfully.
Again it grows warmer around him, and, as it
were, yellower; feeling and sympathy gain depth,
thawing winds of every kind pass lightly over him.
He almost feels as if his eyes were now first opened
to what is near. He marvels and is still; where
has he been? The near and nearest things, how
changed they appear to him! What a bloom and
magic they have acquired meanwhile! He looks
back gratefully,—grateful to his wandering, his
austerity and self-estrangement, his far-sightedness
and his bird-like flights in cold heights. What a
good thing that he did not always stay " at home,"
"by himself," like a sensitive, stupid tenderling.
He has been beside himself, there is no doubt. He
now sees himself for the first time,—and what sur-
prises he feels thereby! What thrills unexperienced
hitherto! What joy even in the weariness, in the
old illness, in the relapses of the convalescent!
How he likes to sit still and suffer, to practise
patience, to lie in the sun! Who is as familiar as
he with the joy of winter, with the patch of sun-
shine upon the wall! They are the most grateful
animals in the world, and also the most un-
assuming, these lizards of convalescents with
their faces half-turned towards life once more:—
there are those amongst them who never let a
day pass without hanging a little hymn of praise
on its trailing fringe. And, speaking seriously, it
## p. 9 (#35) ###############################################
PREFACE. 9
is a radical cure for all pessimism (the well-known
disease of old idealists and falsehood-mongers) to
become ill after the manner of these free spirits,
to remain ill a good while, and then grow well (I
mean "better") for a still longer period. It is
wisdom, practical wisdom, to prescribe even health
for one's self for a long time only in small doses.
About this time it may at last happen, under
the sudden illuminations of still disturbed and
changing health, that the enigma of that great
emancipation begins to reveal itself to the free,
and ever freer, spirit,—that enigma which had
hitherto lain obscure, questionable, and almost
intangible, in his memory. If for a long time he
scarcely dared to ask himself, "Why so apart?
So alone? denying everything that I revered?
denying reverence itself? Why this hatred, this
suspicion, this severity towards my own virtues? "
—he now dares and asks the questions aloud, and
already hears something like an answer to them—
"Thou shouldst become master over thyself and
master also of thine own virtues. Formerly they
were thy masters; but they are only entitled to
be thy tools amongst other tools. Thou shouldst
obtain power over thy pro and contra, and learn
how to put them forth and withdraw them again
in accordance with thy higher purpose. Thou
shouldst learn how to take the proper perspective
of every valuation—the shifting, distortion, and
apparent teleology of the horizons and everything
## p. 10 (#36) ##############################################
IO PREFACE.
/
that belongs to perspective; also the amount of
stupidity which opposite values involve, and all
the intellectual loss with which every pro and every
contra has to be paid for. /Thou shouldst learn
how much necessary injustice there is in every for
and against, injustice as inseparable from life, and,
life itself as conditioned by the perspective and its
injustice. ) Above all thou shouldst see clearly
where the injustice is always greatest:—namely,
where life has developed most punily, restrictedly,
necessitously, and incipiently, and yet cannot help
regarding itself as the purpose and standard of
things, and for the sake of self-preservation, secretly,
basely, and continuously wasting away and calling
in question the higher, greater, and richer,—thou
shouldst see clearly the problem of gradation of
rank, and how power and right and amplitude of
perspective grow up together. Thou shouldst"
"But enough; the free spirit knows henceforth
which " thou shalt" he has obeyed, and also what
he can now do, what he only now—may do. . . .
7-
Thus doth the free spirit answer himself with
regard to the riddle of emancipation, and ends
therewith, while he generalises his case, in order
thus to decide with regard to his experience. "As
it has happened to me," he says to himself," so must
it happen to every one in whom a mission seeks
to embody itself and to ' come into the world. '"
The secret power and necessity of this mission will
operate in and upon the destined individuals like
## p. 11 (#37) ##############################################
PREFACE. 11
an unconscious pregnancy,—long before they have
had the mission itself in view and have known its
name. Our destiny rules over us, even when we
are not yet aware of it; it is the future that makes
laws for our to-day. Granted that it is the problem
of the gradations of rank, of which we may say
that it is our problem, we free spirits; now only
in the midday of our life do we first understand
what preparations, detours, tests, experiments,
and disguises the problem needed, before it was
permitted to rise before us, and how we had first
to experience the most manifold and opposing
conditions of distress and happiness in soul
and body, as adventurers and circumnavigators of
the inner world called "man," as surveyors of all
the "higher" and the "one-above-another," also
called "man "—penetrating everywhere, almost
without fear, rejecting nothing, losing nothing,
tasting everything, cleansing everything from all
that is accidental, and, as it were, sifting it out
—until at last we could say, we free spirits,
"Here—a new problem! Here a long ladder,
the rungs of which we ourselves have sat upon
and mounted,—which we ourselves at some time
have been! Here a higher place, a lower place,
an under-us, an immeasurably long order, a
hierarchy which we see; here—our problem! "
No psychologist or augur will be in doubt for a
moment as to what stage of the development just
described the following book belongs (or is assigned
## p. 12 (#38) ##############################################
12 v-'- PREFACE.
to). But where are these psychologists nowa-
days? In France, certainly; perhaps in Russia;
assuredly not in Germany. Reasons are not lack-
ing why the present-day Germans could still even
count this as an honour to them—bad enough,
surely, for one who in this respect is un-German
in disposition and constitution! This German
book, which has been able to find readers in a
wide circle of countries and nations—it has been
about ten years going its rounds—and must
understand some sort of music and piping art,
by means of which even coy foreign ears are
seduced into listening,—it is precisely in Germany
that this book has been most negligently read, and
worst listened to; what is the reason ? " It de-
mands too much," I have been told, " it appeals to
men free from the pressure of coarse duties, it wants
refined and fastidious senses, it needs superfluity—
superfluity of time, of clearness of sky and heart,
of otium in the boldest sense of the term :—purely
good things, which we Germans of to-day do not
possess and therefore cannot give. " After such a
polite answer my philosophy advises me to be
silent and not to question further; besides, in cer-
tain cases, as the proverb points out, one only
remains a philosopher by being—silent. *
Nice, Spring 1886.
* An allusion to the mediaeval Latin distich:
O si tacuisses,
Philosophus mansisses. —J. M. K.
## p. 13 (#39) ##############################################
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
FIRST DIVISION.
FIRST AND LAST THINGS.
Chemistry of Ideas and Sensations. —Philo-
sophical problems adopt in almost all matters the
same form of question as they did two thousand
years ago; how can anything spring from its
opposite? for instance, reason out of unreason, the
sentient out of the dead, logic out of unlogic, dis-
interested contemplation out of covetous willing,
life for others out of egoism, truth out of error?
Metaphysical philosophy has helped itself over
those difficulties hitherto by denying the origin of
one thing in another, and assuming a miraculous
origin for more highly valued things, immediately
out of the kernel and essence of the "thing in
itself. " ") Historical philosophy, on the contrary,
which is no longer to be thought of as separate
from physical science, the youngest of all philo-
sophical methods, has ascertained in single cases
(and presumably this will happen in everything)
## p. 14 (#40) ##############################################
14 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that there are no opposites except in the usual
exaggeration of the popular or metaphysical point
of view, and that an error of reason lies at the
bottom of the opposition: according to this ex-
planation, strictly understood, there is neither an
unegoistical action nor an entirely disinterested
point of view, they are both only sublimations in
which the fundamental element appears almost
evaporated, and is only to be discovered by the
closest observation. All that we require, and which
can only be given us by the present advance of
the single sciences, is a chemistry of the moral,
religious, aesthetic ideas and sentiments, as also of
those emotions which we experience in ourselves
both in the great and in the small phases of social
and intellectual intercourse, and even in solitude;
but what if this chemistry should result in the fact
that also in this case the most beautiful colours
have been obtained from base, even despised
materials? Would" many be inclined to pursue
such examinations? Humanity likes to put all
questions as to origin and beginning out of its
mind; must one not be almost dehumanised to
feel a contrary tendency in one's self?
2.
Inherited Faults of Philosophers. —All
philosophers have the common fault that they
start from man in his present state and hope to
attain their end by an analysis of him. Uncon-
sciously they look upon " man " as an (Sterna Veritas,
as a thing unchangeable in all commotion, as a sure
## p. 15 (#41) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 15
standard of things. But everything that the philo-
sopher says about man is really nothing more than
testimony about the man of a very limited space
of time. A lack of the historical sense is the
hereditary fault of all philosophers; many, indeed,
unconsciously mistake the very latest variety of man,
such as has arisen under the influence of certain
religions, certain political events, for the permanent
form from which one must set out. They will
not learn that man has developed, that his faculty
of knowledge has developed also; whilst for some
of them the entire world is spun out of this faculty
of knowledge. Now everything essential in human! '
development happened in pre-historic times, long,
before those four thousand years which we know|
something of; man may not have changed much
during this time. But the philosopher sees " in-
stincts " in the present man and takes it for granted
that this is one of the unalterable facts of man-
kind, and, consequently, can furnish a key to the
understanding of the world; the entire teleology
is so constructed that man of the last four thousand
years is spoken of as an eternal being, towards
which all things in the world have from the be-
ginning a natural direction. But everything has
evolved; there are no eternal facts, as there are
likewise no absolute truths. Therefore, historical
philosophising is henceforth necessary, and with it
the virtue of diffidence.
3-
Appreciation of Unpretentious Truths. It is a mark of a higher culture to value the
## p. 16 (#42) ##############################################
l6 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
little unpretentious truths, which have been found
by means of strict method, more highly than the
joy-diffusing and dazzling errors which spring from
metaphysical and artistic times and peoples. First
of all one has scorn on the lips for the former, as
if here nothing could have equal privileges with
anything else, so unassuming, simple, bashful,
apparently discouraging are they, so beautiful,
stately, intoxicating, perhaps even animating, are
the others. But the hardly attained, the certain,
the lasting, and therefore of great consequence for
all wider knowledge, is still the higher; to keep
one's self to that is manly and shows bravery, sim-
plicity, and forbearance. Gradually not only single
individuals but the whole of mankind will be
raised to this manliness, when it has at last
accustomed itself to the higher appreciation of
durable, lasting knowledge, and has lost all belief
in inspiration and the miraculous communication
of truths. Respecters of forms, certainly, with
their standard of the beautiful and noble, will first
of all have good reasons for mockery, as soon as
the appreciation of unpretentious truths, and the
scientific spirit, begin to obtain the mastery; but
only because their, eye has either not yet recog-
nised the charm of the simplest form, or because
men educated in that spirit are not yet completely
and inwardly saturated by it, so that they still
thoughtlessly imitate old forms (and badly enough,
as one does who no longer cares much about the
matter). Formerly the spirit was not occupied
with strict thought, its earnestness then lay in
the spinning out of symbols and forms. This is
## p. 17 (#43) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 17
changed; that earnestness in the symbolical has
become the mark of a lower culture. As our arts
themselves grow evermore intellectual, our senses
more spiritual, and as, for instance, people now
judge concerning what sounds well to the senses
quite differently from how they did a hundred
years ago, so the. forms of our life grow ever
more spiritual, to the eye of older ages perhaps
uglier, but only because it is incapable of perceiv-
ing how the kingdom of the inward, spiritual
beauty constantly grows deeper and wider, and to
what extent the inner intellectual look may be of
more importance to us all than the most beautiful
bodily frame and the. noblest architectural structure.
4-
Astrology and the Like. —It is probable
that the objects of religious, moral, aesthetic and
logical sentiment likewise belong only to the sur-
face of things, while man willingly believes that
here, at least, he has touched the heart of the
world; he deceives himself, because those things
enrapture him so profoundly, and make him so pro-
foundly unhappy, and he therefore shows the same
pride here as in astrology. For astrology believes
that the firmament moves round the destiny of
man; the moral man, however, takes it for granted
that what he has essentially at heart must also be
the essence and heart of things.
Misunderstanding of Dreams.
—In the ages i
of a rude and primitive civilisation man believed I
VOL. i. B
## p. 18 (#44) ##############################################
18 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that in dreams he became acquainted with a second
actual world; herein lies the origin of all meta-
physics. Without dreams there could have been
found no reason for a division of the world. The
distinction, too, between soul and body is connected
with the most ancient comprehension of dreams,
also the supposition of an imaginary soul-body,
therefore the origin of all belief in spirits, and
probably also the belief in gods. "The dead
continues to live, for he appears to the living
in a dream": thus men reasoned of old for
thousands and thousands of years.
The Scientific Spirit partially but not
wholly Powerful. —The smallest subdivisions
of science taken separately are dealt with purely
in relation to themselves,—the general, great
sciences, on the contrary, regarded as a whole, call
up the question—certainly a very non-objective
one—" Wherefore? To what end? " It is this
utilitarian consideration which causes them to be
dealt with less impersonally when taken as a
whole than when considered in their various parts.
In philosophy, above all, as the apex of the entire
pyramid of science, the question as to the utility of
knowledge is involuntarily brought forward, and
every philosophy has the unconscious intention of
ascribing to it the greatest usefulness. For this
reason there is so much high-flying metaphysics
in all philosophies and such a shyness of the
apparently unimportant solutions of physics; for
*
## p. 19 (#45) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 19
the importance of knowledge for life must appear
as great as possible. Here is the antagonism
between the separate provinces of science and
philosophy, The latter desires, what art does, to
give the greatest possible depth and meaning to
life and actions; in the former one seeks know-
ledge and nothing further, whatever may emerge
thereby. So far there has been no philosopher in
whose hands philosophy has not grown into an
apology for knowledge; on this point, at least,
every one is an optimist, that the greatest usefulness
must be ascribed to knowledge. They are all
tyrannised over by logic, and this is optimism—in
its essence.
7-
The Kill-joy in Science. — Philosophy
separated from science when it asked the question,
"Which is the knowledge of the world and of life
which enables man to live most happily? " This
happened in the Socratic schools; the veins of
scientific investigation were bound up by the
point of view of happiness,—and are so still.
Pneumatic Explanation of Nature. —
Metaphysics explains the writing of Nature, so to
speak,pneumatically, as the Church and her learned
men formerly did with the Bible. A great deal
of understanding is required to apply to Nature
the same method of strict interpretation as the
philologists have now established for all books,
## p. 20 (#46) ##############################################
20 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
with the intention of clearly understanding what
the text means, but not suspecting a double sense
or even taking it for granted. Just, however, as
with regard to books, the bad art of interpretation
is by no means overcome, and in the most
cultivated society one still constantly comes across
the remains of allegorical and mystic interpretation,
so it is also with regard to Nature, indeed it is
even much worse.
9-.
The Metaphysical World. —It is true that
there might be a metaphysical world; the absolute
possibility of it is hardly to be disputed. We
look at everything through the human head and
cannot cut this head off; while the question
remains, What would be left of the world if it had
been cut off? This is a purely scientific problem,
and one not very likely to trouble mankind;
but everything which has hitherto made meta-
physical suppositions valuable, terrible, delightful
for man, what has produced them, is passion, error,
and self-deception; the very worst methods of
knowledge, not the best, have taught belief therein.
When these methods have been discovered as the
foundation of all existing religions and meta-
physics, they have been refuted. Then there still
always remains that possibility; but there is
nothing to be done with it, much less is it possible
to let happiness, salvation, and life depend on the
spider-thread of such a possibility. For nothing
could be said of the metaphysical world but that
it would be a different condition, a condition in-
## p. 21 (#47) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 21
accessible and incomprehensible to us; it would
be a thing of negative qualities. Were the
existence of such a world ever so well proved, the
fact would nevertheless remain that it would be
precisely the most irrelevant of all forms of
knowledge: more irrelevant than the knowledge
of the chemical analysis of water to the sailor in
danger in a storm.
IO.
The Harmlessness of Metaphysics in the
Future. —Directly the origins of religion, art,
and morals have been so described that one can
perfectly explain them without having recourse to
metaphysical concepts at the beginning and in the
course of the path, the strongest interest in the
purely theoretical problem of the " thing-in-itself"
and the "phenomenon" ceases. For however it
may be here, with religion, art, and morals we do
not touch the "essence of the world in itself" ; we
are in the domain of representation, no " intuition"
can carry us further. With the greatest calmness
we shall leave the question as to how our own
conception of the world can differ so widely from
the revealed essence of the world, to physiology
and the history of the evolution of organisms and
ideas.
11.
'Language as a Presumptive Science. —
The importance of language for the development
of culture lies in the fact that in language man has
## p. 22 (#48) ##############################################
22 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
placed a world of his own beside the other, a
position which he deemed so fixed that he might
therefrom lift the rest of the world off its hinges,
and make himself master of it. Inasmuch as
man has believed in the ideas and names of things
as aterncB veritates for a great length of time, he
has acquired that pride by which he has raised
himself above the animal; he really thought that
in language he possessed the knowledge of the
world. The maker of language was not modest
enough to think that he only gave designations to
things, he believed rather that with his words he
expressed the widest knowledge of the things; in
reality language is the first step in the endeavour
after science. Here also it is belief in ascertained
truth, from which the mightiest sources of strength
have flowed. Much later—only now—it is dawn-
ing upon men that they have propagated a
tremendous error in their belief in language.
Fortunately it is now too late to reverse the
development of reason, which is founded upon that
belief. Logic, also, is founded upon suppositions
to which nothing in the actual world corresponds,—
for instance, on the supposition of the equality of
things, and the identity of the same thing at
different points of time,—but that particular
science arose out of the contrary belief (that such
things really existed in the actual world). It is
the same with mathematics, which would certainly
not have arisen if it had been known from the
beginning that in Nature there are no exactly
straight lines, no real circle, no absolute standard
of size.
## p. 23 (#49) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 23
12.
Dream and Culture. —The function of the
brain which is most influenced by sleep is the
memory; not that it entirely ceases; but it is
brought back to a condition of imperfection, such as
everyone may have experienced in pre-historic times,
whether asleep or awake. Arbitrary and confused
as it is, it constantly confounds things on the
ground of the most fleeting resemblances; but
with the same arbitrariness and confusion the
ancients invented their mythologies, and even at
the present day travellers are accustomed to
remark how prone the savage is to forgetfulness,
how, after a short tension of memory, his mind
begins to sway here and there from sheer weariness
and gives forth lies and nonsense. But in dreams
we all resemble the savage; bad recognition and
erroneous comparisons are the reasons of the bad
conclusions, of which we are guilty in dreams: so
that, when we clearly recollect what we have
dreamt, we are alarmed at ourselves at harbour-
ing so much foolishness within us. The perfect
distinctness of all dream-representations, which
pre-suppose absolute faith in their reality, recall
the conditions that appertain to primitive man,
in whom hallucination was extraordinarily frequent,
and sometimes simultaneously seized entire com-
munities, entire nations. Therefore, in sleep and
in dreams we once more carry out the task of
early humanity.
/
## p. 24 (#50) ##############################################
24 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
13-
The Logic of Dreams. —In sleep our nervous
system is perpetually excited by numerous inner
occurrences; nearly all the organs are disjointed
and in a state of activity, the blood runs its
turbulent course, the position of the sleeper causes
pressure on certain limbs, his coverings influence
his sensations in various ways, the stomach digests
and by its movements it disturbs other organs,
the intestines writhe, the position of the head
occasions unaccustomed play of muscles, the feet,
unshod, not pressing upon the floor with the soles,
occasion the feeling of the unaccustomed just as
does the different clothing of the whole body:
all this, according to its daily change and extent,
excites by its extraordinariness the entire system
to the very functions of the brain;, and thus there
are a hundred occasions for the spirit to be sur-
prised and to seek for the reasons of this excita-
tion ;—the dream, however, is the seeking and
representing of the causes of those excited sensa-
tions,—that is, of the supposed causes. A person
who, for instance, binds his feet with two straps
will perhaps dream that two serpents are coiling
round his feet; this is first hypothesis, then a
belief, with an accompanying mental picture and
interpretation—" These serpents must be the causa
of those sensations which I, the sleeper, experi-
ence,"—so decides the mind of the sleeper. The
immediate past, so disclosed, becomes to him the
present through his excited imagination. Thus
every one knows from experience how quickly the
## p. 25 (#51) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 2$
dreamer weaves into his dream a loud sound that
he hears, such as the ringing of bells or the firing
of cannon, that is to say, explains it from after-
wards so that he first thinks he experiences the
producing circumstances and then that sound.
But how does it happen that the mind of the
dreamer is always so mistaken, while the same
mind when awake is accustomed to be so tem-
perate, careful, and sceptical with regard to its
hypotheses? so that the first random hypo-
thesis for the explanation of a feeling suffices for
him to believe immediately in its truth? (For in
dreaming we believe in the dream as if it were a
reality, i. e. we think our hypothesis completely
proved. ) I hold, that as man now still reasons'!
in dreams, so men reasoned also when awake
through thousands of years; the first causa which}
occurred to the mind to explain anything that;
required an explanation, was sufficient and stood;
for truth. (Thus, according to travellers' tales,;
savages still do to this very day. ) This ancienti
element in human nature still manifests itself in,
our dreams, for it is the foundation upon which i
the higher reason has developed and still develops I
in every individual; the dream carries us back
into remote conditions of human culture, and pro-
vides a ready means of understanding them better.
Dream-thinking is now so easy to us because'
during immense periods of human development
we have been so well drilled in this form of
fantastic and cheap explanation, by means of the
first agreeable notions. In so far, dreaming is a
recreation for the brain, which by day has to
## p. 26 (#52) ##############################################
26 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
satisfy the stern demands of thought, as they are
\Jaid down by the higher culture. We can at
once discern an allied process even in our
awakened state, as the door and ante-room of the
dream. If we shut our eyes, the brain produces
a number of impressions of light and colour, prob-
ably as a kind of after-play and echo of all
those effects of light which crowd in upon it by
day. Now, however, the understanding, together
with the imagination, instantly works up this
play of colour, shapeless in itself, into definite
figures, forms, landscapes, and animated groups.
The actual accompanying process thereby is again
a kind of conclusion from the effect to the cause:
since the mind asks, " Whence come these impres-
sions of light and colour? " it supposes those
figures and forms as causes; it takes them for the
origin of those colours and lights, because in the
daytime, with open eyes, it is accustomed to find
a producing cause for every colour, every effect of
light. Here, therefore, the imagination constantly
places pictures before the mind, since it supports
itself on the visual impressions of the day in their
production, and the dream-imagination does just
the same thing,—that is, the supposed cause is
deduced from the effect and represented after the
effect; all this happens with extraordinary rapidity,
so that here, as with the conjuror, a Confusion of
judgment may arise and a sequence may look like
something simultaneous, or even like a reversed
sequence. From these circumstances we may
gather how itift/j/ the more acute logical thinking,
the strict discrimination of cause and effect has
## p. 27 (#53) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 27
been developed, when our reasoning and under-
standing faculties still involuntarily hark back to
those primitive forms of deduction, and when we
pass about half our life in this condition. The
poet, too, and the artist assign causes for their
moods and conditions which are by no means the
true ones; in this they recall an older humanity
and can assist us to the understanding of it.
14.
Co-ECHOING. —-All stronger moods bring with
them a co-echoing of kindred sensations and
moods, they grub up the memory, so to speak.
Along with them something within us remembers
and becomes conscious of similar conditions and
their origin. Thus there are formed quick habit-
ual connections of feelings and thoughts, which
eventually, when they follow each other with
lightning speed, are no longer felt as complexes
but as unities. In this sense one speaks of the
moral feeling, of the religious feeling, as if they
were absolute unities: in reality they are streams
with a hundred sources and tributaries. Here
also, as so often happens, the unity of the word
is no security for the unity of the thing.
IS-
No Internal and External in the
WORLD. —As Democritus transferred the con-
cepts "above" and "below" to endless space
where they have no sense, so philosophers in
## p. 28 (#54) ##############################################
28 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
general have transferred the concepts "Internal"
and " External" to the essence and appearance of
the world; they think that with deep feelings one
can penetrate deeply into the internal and ap-
proach the heart of Nature. But these feelings
are only deep in so far as along with fhem, barely
noticeable, certain complicated groups of thoughts,
which we call deep, are regularly excited; a feel-
ing is deep because we think that the accompany-
ing thought is deep. But the "deep" thought
can nevertheless be very far from the truth, as, for
instance, every metaphysical one; if one take away
from the deep feeling the commingled elements
of thought, then the strong feeling remains, and
this guarantees nothing for knowledge but itself,
just as strong faith proves only its strength and
not the truth of what is believed in.
16.
Phenomenon and Thing-in-itself. —Phil-
osophers are in the habit of setting themselves
before life and experience—before that which they
call the world of appearance—as before a picture
that is once for all unrolled and exhibits unchange-
ably fixed the same process,—this process, they
think, must be rightly interpreted in order to come
to a conclusion about the being that produced the
picture: about the thing-in-itself, therefore, which
is always accustomed to be regarded as sufficient
ground for the world of phenomenon. On the
other hand, since one always makes the idea of the
metaphysical stand definitely as that of the uncon-
## p. 29 (#55) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 29
ditioned, consequently also unconditioning, one
must directly disown all connection between the
unconditioned (the metaphysical world) and the
world which is known to us; so that the thing-in-
itself should most certainly not appear in the
phenomenon, and every conclusion from the former
as regards the latter is to be rejected. Both
sides overlook the fact that that picture—that
which we now call human life and experience—
has gradually evolved,—nay, is still in the full pro-
cess of evolving,—and therefore should not be
regarded as a fixed magnitude from which a con-
clusion about its originator might be deduced (the
sufficing cause) or even merely neglected. It is
because for thousands of years we have looked
into the world with moral, aesthetic, and religious
pretensions, with blind inclination, passion, or fear,
and have surfeited ourselves in the vices of illogical
thought, that this world has gradually become so
marvellously motley, terrible, full of meaning and
of soul, it has acquired colour—but we were the
colourists; the human intellect, on the basis of
human needs, of human emotions, has caused this
'/ phenomenon" to appear and has carried its
erroneous fundamental conceptions into things.
Late, very late, it takes to thinking, and now the
world of experience and the thing-in-itself seem
to it so extraordinarily different and separated,
that it gives up drawing conclusions from the
former to the latter—or in a terribly mysterious
manner demands the renunciation of our intellect,
of our personal will, in order thereby to reach the
essential, that one may become essential. Again,
## p. 30 (#56) ##############################################
30 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
others have collected all the characteristic features
of our world of phenomenon,—that is, the idea of
the world spun out of intellectual errors and in-
herited by us,—and instead of accusing the intellect
as the offenders, they have laid the blame on the
nature of things as being the cause of the hard fact
of this very sinister character of the world, and have
preached the deliverance from Being. With all
these conceptions the constant and laborious pro-
cess of science (which at last celebrates its great-
est triumph in a history of the origin of thought)
becomes completed in various ways, the result of
which might perhaps run as follows :—"That which
we now call the world is the result of a mass of
errors and fantasies which arose gradually in the
general development of organic being, which are
inter-grown with each other, and are now inherited
by us as the accumulated treasure of all the past,
—as a treasure, for the value of our humanity
depends upon it. From this world of representa-
tion strict science is really only able to liberate
us to a very slight extent—as it is also not at
all desirable—inasmuch as it cannot essentially
break the power of primitive habits of feeling; but
it can gradually elucidate the history of the rise of
that world as representation,—and lift us, at least
for moments, above and beyond the whole process.
Perhaps we shall then recognise that the thing in
itself is worth a Homeric laugh; that it seemed
so much, indeed everything, and is really empty,
namely, empty of meaning. "
## p. 31 (#57) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 31
17-
Metaphysical Explanations. —The young
man values metaphysical explanations, because
they show him something highly significant in
things which he found unpleasant or despicable,
and if he is dissatisfied with himself, the feeling
becomes lighter when he recognises the innermost
world-puzzle or world-misery in that which he so
strongly disapproves of in himself. To feel him-
self less responsible and at the same time to find
things more interesting—that seems to him a
double benefit for which he has to thank meta-
physics. Later on, certainly, he gets distrustful
of the whole metaphysical method of explanation;
then perhaps it grows clear to him that those
results can be obtained equally well and more
scientifically in another way: that physical and
historical explanations produce the feeling of
personal relief to at least the same extent,
and that the interest in life and its problems is
perhaps still more aroused thereby.
18.
Fundamental Questions of Metaphysics.
—When the history of the rise of thought comes
to be written, a new light will be thrown on the
following statement of a distinguished logician:—
"The primordial general law of the cognisant
subject consists in the inner necessity of recog-
nising every object in itself in its own nature, as a
thing identical with itself, consequently self-exist-
## p. 32 (#58) ##############################################
32 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
ing and at bottom remaining ever the same
and unchangeable: in short, in recognising every-
thing as a substance. " Even this law, which is
here called " primordial," has evolved: it will some
day be shown how gradually this tendency arises
in the lower organisms, how the feeble mole-eyes
of their organisations at first see only the same
thing,—how then, when the various awakenings
of pleasure and displeasure become noticeable,
various substances are gradually distinguished, but
each with one attribute, i. e. one single relation to
such an organism. The first step in logic is the
judgment,—the nature of which, according to the
decision of the best logicians, consists in belief.
At the bottom of all belief lies the sensation of the
pleasant or the painful in relation to the sentient
subject. A new third sensation as the result of
two previous single sensations is the judgment
in its simplest form. We organic beings have
originally no interest in anything but its relation to
us in connection with pleasure and pain. Between
the moments (the states of feeling) when we become
conscious of this connection, lie moments of rest,
of non-feeling; the world and everything is then
without interest for us, we notice no change in it
(as even now a deeply interested person does not
notice when any one passes him). To the plant,
things are as a rule tranquil and eternal, every-
thing like itself. From the period of the lower
organisms man has inherited the belief that
similar things exist (this theory is only con-
tradicted by the matured experience of the most
advanced science). The primordial belief of
## p. 33 (#59) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 33
everything organic from the beginning is perhaps
, even this, that all the rest of the world is one and
immovable. The point furthest removed from
those early beginnings of logic is the idea of
Causality,—indeed we still really think that all
sensations and activities are acts of the free will;
when the sentient individual contemplates himself,
he regards every sensation, every alteration as
something isolated, that is to say, unconditioned
and disconnected,—it rises up in us without con-
nection with anything foregoing or following.
We are hungry, but do not originally think that
the organism must be nourished; the feeling seems
to make itself felt without cause and purpose, it
isolates itself and regards itself as arbitrary.
Therefore, belief in the freedom of the will is an
original error of everything organic, as old as the
existence of the awakenings of logic in it; the
belief in unconditioned substances and similar
> things is equally a primordial as well as an old
error of everything organic. But inasmuch as
all metaphysics has concerned itself chiefly with
substance and the freedom of will, it may be
designated as the science which treats of the
fundamental errors of mankind, but treats of
them as if they were fundamental truths.
19-
Number. —The discovery of the laws of numbers
is made upon the ground of the original, already
prevailing error, that there are many similar things
(but in reality there is nothing similar), at least,
## p. 34 (#60) ##############################################
34 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that there are things (but there is no "thing").
The supposition of plurality always presumes that
there is something which appears frequently,—but
here already error reigns, already we imagine
beings, unities, which do not exist. Our sensations
of space and time are false, for they lead—ex-
amined in sequence—to logical contradictions.
In all scientific determinations we always reckon
inevitably with certain false quantities, but as these
quantities are at least constant, as, for instance,
our sensation of time and space, the conclusions
of science have still perfect accuracy and certainty
in their connection with one another; one may
continue to build upon them—until that final limit
where the erroneous original suppositions, those
constant faults, come into conflict with the con-
clusions, for instance in the doctrine of atoms.
There still we always feel ourselves compelled to
the acceptance of a "thing" or material "sub-
stratum" that is moved, whilst the whole scientific
procedure has pursued the very task of resolving
everything substantial (material) into motion; here,
too, we still separate with our sensation the mover
and the moved and cannot get out of this circle,
because the belief in things has from immemorial
times been bound up with our being. When Kant
says, "The understanding does not derive its
laws from Nature, but dictates them to her," it is
perfectly true with regard to the idea of Nature
which we are compelled to associate with her
(Nature = World as representation, that is to say
as error), but which is the summing up of a
number of errors of the understanding. The laws
## p. 35 (#61) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 35
of numbers are entirely inapplicable to a world
which is not our representation—these laws obtain
only in the human world.
20.
A Few Steps Back. —A degree of culture,
and assuredly a very high one, is attained when
man rises above superstitious and religious notions
and fears, and, for instance, no longer believes in
guardian angels or in original sin, and has also
ceased to talk of the salvation of his soul,—if he
has attained to this degree of freedom, he has still
also to overcome metaphysics with the greatest
exertion of his intelligence. Then, however, a re-
trogressive movement is necessary; he must under-
stand the historical justification as well as the
psychological in such representations, he must
recognise how the greatest advancement of
humanity has come therefrom, and how, without
such a retrocursive movement, we should have
been robbed of the best products of hitherto
existing mankind. With regard to philosophical
metaphysics, I always see increasing numbers
who have attained to the negative goal (that all
positive metaphysics is error), but as yet few who
. climb a few rungs backwards; one ought to look
out, perhaps, over the last steps of the ladder, but
not try to stand upon them. The most enlightened
only succeed so far as to free themselves from
metaphysics and look back upon it with superiority,
while it is necessary here, too, as in the hippo-
drome, to turn round the end of the course.
## p. 36 (#62) ##############################################
36 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
21.
Conjectural Victory of Scepticism. —For
once let the sceptical starting-point be accepted,
—granted that there were no other metaphysical
world, and all explanations drawn from meta-
physics about the only world we know were useless
to us, in what light should we then look upon
men and things? We can think this out for
ourselves, it is useful, even though the question
whether anything metaphysical has been scientific-
ally proved by Kant and Schopenhauer were
altogether set aside. For it is quite possible,
according to historical probability, that some time
or other man, as a general rule, may grow sceptical;
the question will then be this: What form will
human society take under the influence of such a
mode of thought? Perhaps the scientific proof of
some metaphysical world or other is already so
difficult that mankind will never get rid of a cer-
tain distrust of it. And when there is distrust
of metaphysics, there are on the whole the same
results as if it had been directly refuted and could
no longer be believed in. The historical question
with regard to an unmetaphysical frame of mind
in mankind remains the same in both cases.
22.
Unbelief in the " Monumentum alre per-
ennius. " — An actual drawback which accom-
panies the cessation of metaphysical views lies in the
fact that the individual looks upon his short span
## p. 37 (#63) ##############################################
FIRST AND LAST THINGS. 37
of life too exclusively and receives no stronger in-
centives to build durable institutions intended to
last for centuries,—he himself wishes to pluck the
fruit from the tree which he plants, and therefore
he no longer plants those trees which require
regular care for centuries, and which are destined
to afford shade to a long series of generations.
For metaphysical views furnish the belief that in
them the last conclusive foundation has been given,
upon which henceforth all the future of mankind
is compelled to settle down and establish itself;
the individual furthers his salvation, when, for
instance, he founds a church or convent, he thinks
it will be reckoned to him and recompensed to
him in the eternal life of the soul, it is work for
the soul's eternal salvation. Can science also
arouse such faith in its results? As a matter of
fact, it needs doubt and distrust as its most faithful
auxiliaries; nevertheless in the course of time, the
sum of inviolable truths—those, namely, which
have weathered all the storms of scepticism, and
all destructive analysis—may have become so great
(in the regimen of health, for instance), that one
may determine to found thereupon "eternal" works.
For the present the contrast between our excited
ephemeral existence and the long-winded repose
of metaphysical ages still operates too strongly,
because the two ages still stand too closely
together; the individual man himself now goes
through too many inward and outward develop-
ments for him to venture to arrange his own
lifetime permanently, and once and for all. An
entirely modern man, for instance, who is going
## p. 38 (#64) ##############################################
38 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
to build himself a house, has a feeling as if he
were going to immure himself alive in a mausoleum.
23-
The Age of Comparison. —The less men are
fettered by tradition, the greater becomes the
inward activity of their motives; the greater, again,
in proportion thereto, the outward restlessness, the
confused flux of mankind, the polyphony of striv-
ings. For whom is there still an absolute com-
pulsion to bind himself and his descendants to one
place? For whom is there still anything strictly
compulsory? As all styles of arts are imitated
simultaneously, so also are all grades and kinds of
morality, of customs, of cultures. Such an age
obtains its importance because in it the various
views of the world, customs, and cultures can be
compared and experienced simultaneously,—which
was formerly not possible with the always localised
sway of every culture, corresponding to the root-
ing of all artistic styles in place and time.
An increased aesthetic feeling will now at last
decide amongst so many forms presenting them-
selves for comparison; it will allow the greater
number, that is to say all those rejected by it, to
die out.
