yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits.
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits.
Nietzsche - v09 - The Dawn of Day
-TR.
## p. 331 (#459) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
321
448.
HONOURING REALITY. —How can we look at
this exulting multitude without tears and acqui-
escence? at one time we thought little of the object
of their exultation, and we should still think so if
we ourselves had not come through a similar experi-
ence. And what may these experiences lead us to !
what are our opinions! In order that we may not
lose ourselves and our reason we must fly from
experiences. It was thus that Plato fled from actu-
ality, and wished to contemplate things only in their
pale mental concepts: he was full of sensitiveness,
and knew how easily the waves of this sensitiveness
would drown his reason. -Must the sage therefore
say, “I will honour reality, but I will at the same
time turn my back to it because I know and dread
it? ” Ought he to behave as certain African tribes
do in the presence of their sovereign, whom they
approach backwards, thus showing their reverence
at the same time as their dread ?
449.
WHERE ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT ? -Oh, how
greatly it goes against my grain to impose my
own thoughts upon others! How I rejoice over
every mood and secret change within me as the
result of which the thoughts of others are victorious
over my own! but from time to time I enjoy an
even greater satisfaction, when I am allowed to
give away my intellectual possessions, like the
confessor sitting in his box and anxiously awaiting
## p. 331 (#460) ############################################
322
THE DAWN OF DAY.
the arrival of some distressed person who stands
in need of consolation, and will be only too glad to
relate the full misery of his thoughts so that the
listener's hand and heart will once again be filled,
and the troubled soul eased! Not only has the
confessor no desire for renown: he would fain shun
gratitude as well, for it is obtrusive, and does not
stand in awe of solitude or silence.
But to live without a name, and even to be
slightly sneered at; too obscure to arouse envy or
enmity; with a head free from fever, a handful
of knowledge, and a pocketful of experience; a
physician, as it were, of the poor in spirit, help-
ing this one or that one whose head is troubled with
opinions, without the latter perceiving who has
actually helped him! without any desire to appear
to be in the right in the presence of his patient, or
to carry off a victory. To speak to him in such a
way that, after a short and almost imperceptible
hint or objection, the listener may find out for him-
self what is right and proudly walk away! To be
like an obscure and unknown inn which turns no one
away who is in need, but which is afterwards for-
gotten and laughed at ! To be without any advan-
tages over others—neither possessing better food
nor purer air, nor a more cheerful mind-but always
to be giving away, returning, communicating, and
becoming poorer! To know how to be humble in
order to be accessible to many people and humili-
ating to none! To take a great deal of injustice
on his shoulders and creep through the cracks and
crannies of all kinds of errors, in order that we may
reach many obscure souls on their secret paths !
## p. 331 (#461) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
323
ever in possession of some kind of love, and some
kind of egoism and self-enjoyment! in possession
of power, and yet at the same time hidden and
resigned ! constantly basking in the sunshine and
sweetness of grace, and yet knowing that quite near
to us stands the ladder leading to the sublime ! -
that would be life! that would indeed be a reason
for a long life!
450.
THE TEMPTATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE. - A
glance through the gate of science acts upon
passionate spirits as the charm of charms: they will
probably become dreamers, or in the most favour-
able cases poets, so great is their desire for the
happiness of the man who can discern. Does it not
enter into all your senses, this note of sweet tempta-
tion by which science has announced its joyful
message in a thousand ways, and in the thousand
and first way, the noblest of all, “Begone, illusion !
for then 'Woe is me' also vanished, and with it woe
itself is gone” (Marcus Aurelius).
451.
FOR WHOM A COURT JESTER IS NEEDFUL. —
Those who are very beautiful, very good, and very
powerful scarcely ever learn the full and naked truth
about anything for in their presence we involun-
tarily lie a little, because we feel their influence, and
in view of this influence convey a truth in the form
of an adaptation (by falsifying the shades and
## p. 331 (#462) ############################################
324
THE DAWN OF DAY.
degrees of facts, by omitting or adding details, and
withholding that which is insusceptible of adapta-
tion). If, however, in spite of all this, people of this
description insist upon hearing the truth, they must
keep a court jester—a being with the madman's
privilege of being unable to adapt himself.
452.
IMPATIENCE. -There is a certain degree of im-
patience in men of thought and action, which in
cases of failure at once drives them to the opposite
camp, induces them to take a great interest in it,
and to give themselves up to new undertakings-
until here again the slowness of their success drives
them away. Thus they rove about, like so many
reckless adventurers, through the practices of many
kingdoms and natures; and in the end, as the
result of their wide knowledge of men and things,
acquired by their unheard of travel and practice, and
with a certain moderation of their craving, they be-
come powerful practical men. Hence a defect in
character may become the school of genius.
453.
A MORAL INTERREGNUM. —Who is now in a
position to describe that which will one day supplant
moral feelings and judgments ! -however certain we
may be that these are founded on error, and that
the building erected upon such foundations cannot
be repaired: their obligation must gradually diminish
from day to day, in so far as the obligation of reason
## p. 331 (#463) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
325
does not diminish! To carry out the task of re-
establishing the laws of life and action is still beyond
the power of our sciences of physiology and medicine,
society and solitude: though it is only from them
that we can borrow the foundation-stones of new
ideals (but not the ideals themselves). Thus we
live a preliminary or after existence, according to
our tastes and talents, and the best we can do in
this interregnum is to be as much as possible our
own "reges," and to establish small experimental
states. We are experiments: if we want to be
so!
454
A DIGRESSION. —A book like this is not intended
to be read through at once, or to be read aloud.
It is intended more particularly for reference,
especially on our walks and travels: we must take
it up and put it down again after a short reading,
and, more especially, we ought not to be amongst
our usual surroundings.
455.
THE PRIMARY NATURE. — As we are now
brought up, we begin by acquiring a secondary
nature, and we possess it when the world calls us
mature, of age, efficient. A few have sufficient of
the serpent about them to cast this skin some day,
when their primary nature has come to maturity
under it. But in the majority of people the germ
of it withers away.
## p. 331 (#464) ############################################
326
THE DAWN OF DAY.
456.
A VIRTUE IN PROCESS OF BECOMING. –Such
assertions and promises as those of the ancient
philosophers on the unity of virtue and felicity, or
that of Christianity, “Seek ye first the Kingdom
of God and His righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you," have never been made
with absolute sincerity, but always without a bad
conscience nevertheless. People were in the habit
of boldly laying down principles—which they
wished to be true-exactly as if they were truth
itself, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and
in doing this they felt neither religious nor moral
compunction; for it was in honorem maiorem of
virtue or of God that one had gone beyond truth,
without, however, any selfish intention !
Many good people still act up to this degree of
truthfulness: when they feel unselfish they think it
permissible to treat truth more lightly. Let it be
remembered that the word honesty is neither to be
found among the Socratic nor the Christian virtues :
it is one of our most recent virtues, not yet quite
mature, frequently misconstrued and misunder-
stood, scarcely conscious of itself—something in
embryo, which we may either promote or check
according to our inclination.
457.
FINAL TACITURNITY. —There are some men
who fare like the digger after hidden treasures :
they quite accidentally discover the carefully-
## p. 331 (#465) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
327
preserved secrets of another's soul, and as a result
come into the possession of knowledge which it is
often a heavy burden to bear. In certain circum-
stances we may know the living and the dead, and
sound their inmost thoughts to such an extent that
it becomes painful to us to speak to others about
them : at every word we utter we are afraid of being
indiscreet. —I can easily imagine a sudden silence
on the part of the wisest historian.
458.
THE GREAT PRIZE. —There is a very rare thing,
but a very delightful one, viz. the man with a
nobly-formed intellect who possesses at the same
time the character and inclinations, and even
meets with the experiences, suited to such an
intellect.
459.
THE MAGNANIMITY OF THE THINKER. —Both
Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough
to inscribe upon their lives the motto, Vitam
impendere vero. And how they both must have
suffered in their pride because they could not succeed
in verum impendere vitæ ! —verum, such as each
of them understood it,—when their lives ran side
by side with their knowledge like an uncouth bass
which is not in tune with the melody.
Knowledge, however, would be in a bad way if
it were measured out to every thinker only in
proportion as it can be adapted to his own person.
And thinkers would be in a bad way if their vanity
## p. 331 (#466) ############################################
328
THE DAWN OF DAY.
were so great that they could only endure such an
adaptation, for the noblest virtue of a great thinker
is his magnanimity, which urges him on in his search
for knowledge to sacrifice himself and his life un-
shrinkingly, often shamefacedly, and often with
sublime scorn, and smiling.
460.
UTILISING OUR HOURS OF DANGER. —Those
men and conditions whose every movement may
mean danger to our possessions, honour, and life or
death, and to those most dear to us, we shall
naturally learn to know thoroughly. Tiberius,
for instance, must have meditated much more
deeply on the character and methods of government
of the Emperor Augustus, and must have known
far more about them than even the wisest historian.
At the present day we all live, relatively speak-
ing, in a security which is much too great to make
us true psychologists : some survey their fellow-men
as a hobby, others out of ennui, and others again
merely from habit; but never to the extent they
would do if they were told “Discern or perish ! ”
As long as truths do not cut us to the quick we
assume an attitude of contempt towards them:
they still appear to us too much like the "winged
dreams," as if we could or could not have them at
our discretion, as if we could likewise be aroused
from these truths as from a dream!
461.
Hic RHODUS, Hic SALTA-Our music, which
can and must change into everything, because
## p. 331 (#467) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
329
like the demon of the sea, it has no character of
its own : this music in former times devoted its
attention to the Christian savant, and transposed
his ideals into sounds : why cannot it likewise find
those brighter, more cheerful, and universal sounds
which correspond to the ideal thinker -a music
which could rock itself at ease in the vast floating
vaults of the soul ? So far our music has been so
great and so good; nothing seemed impossible to
its powers. May it therefore prove possible to
create these three sensations at one time: sublimity,
deep and warm light, and rapture of the greatest
possible consistency !
462.
Slow CURES. —Chronic illnesses of the soul,
like those of the body, are very rarely due to one
gross offence against physical and mental reason,
but as a general rule they arise from innumerable
and petty negligences of a minor order. -A man,
for example, whose breathing becomes a trifle
weaker every day, and whose lungs, by inhaling
too little air, are deprived of their proper amount
of exercise, will end by being struck down by some
chronic disease of the lungs. The only remedy for
cases like these is a countless number of minor
exercises of a contrary tendency-making it a
rule, for example, to take a long and deep breath
every quarter of an hour, lying flat on the ground
if possible. For this purpose a clock which strikes
the quarters should be chosen as a lifelong com-
panion.
All these remedies are slow and trifling; but
## p. 331 (#468) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. --You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#469) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING:-
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. " By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#470) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#471) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#472) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“ You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#473) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#474) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour! or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#475) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream ; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. -What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 332 (#476) ############################################
332 THE DAWN OF DAY.
that I shall have to suffer for it doubly: in the
first place out of pity for their suffering, and secondly
from the revenge they will take on me. But in
spite of this I cannot help doing what I do.
468.
The Kingdom of Beauty is Greater. —We
move about in nature, cunning and cheerful, in order
that we may surprise everything in the beauty
peculiar to it; we make an effort, whether in sun-
shine or under a stormy sky, to see a distant part
of the coast with its rocks, bays, and olive and
pine trees under an aspect in which it achieves its
perfection and consummation. Thus also we should
walk about among men as their discoverers and
explorers, meting out to them good and evil in
order that we may unveil the peculiar beauty which
is seen with some in the sunshine, in others under
thunder-clouds, or with others again only in twilight
and under a rainy sky.
Are we then forbidden to enjoy the evil man
like some savage landscape which possesses its own
bold and daring lines and luminous effects, while
this same man, so long as he behaves well, and in
conformity with the law, appears to us to be an
error of drawing, and a mere caricature which
offends us like a defect in nature? —Yes, this is
forbidden: for as yet we have only been permitted
to seek beauty in anything that is morally good,—
and this is sufficient to explain why we have found
so little and have been compelled to look for beauty
without either flesh or bones ! —in the same way as
## p. 333 (#477) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 333
evil men are familiar with innumerable kinds of
happiness which the virtuous never dream of, we
may also find among them innumerable types of
beauty, many of them as yet undiscovered.
469.
The Inhumanity of the Sage. —The heavy
and grinding progress of the sage, who in the
words of the Buddhist song, "Wanders lonely like
the rhinoceros," now and again stands in need of
proofs of a conciliatory and softened humanity, and
not only proofs of those accelerated steps, those
polite and sociable witticisms; not only of humour
and a certain self-mockery, but likewise of contra-
dictions and occasional returns to the predominating
inconsistencies. In order that he may not resemble
the heavy roller that rolls along like fate, the sage
who wishes to teach must take advantage of his
defects, and utilise them for his own adornment;
and when saying "despise me" he will implore
permission to be the advocate of a presumptuous
truth.
This sage wishes to lead you to the mountains,
and he will perhaps endanger your life: therefore
as the price of his enjoyment he willingly authorises
you to take your revenge either before or after-
wards on such a guide. Do you remember what
thoughts came into your head when he once led
you to a gloomy cavern over a slippery path? Your
distrustful heart beat rapidly, and said inwardly,
"This guide might surely do something better
than crawl about here! he is one of those idle
## p. 334 (#478) ############################################
334 THE DAWN OF DAY.
people who are full of curiosity—is it not doing
him too much honour to appear to attach any
value at all to him by following him? "
470.
Many at the Banquet. —How happy we are
when we are fed like the birds by the hand of
some one who throws them their crumbs without
examining them too closely, or inquiring into their
worthiness! To live like a bird which comes and
flies away, and does not carry its name on its beak!
I take great pleasure in satisfying my appetite at
the banquet of the many.
471.
Another type of Love for one's Neigh-
bour. —Everything that is agitated, noisy, fitful,
and nervous forms a contrast to the great passion
which, glowing in the heart of man like a quiet and
gloomy flame, and gathering about it all that is
flaming and ardent, gives to man the appearance
of coldness and indifference, and stamps a certain
impassiveness on his features. Such men are occa-
sionally capable of showing their love for their
neighbour, but this love is different from that of
sociable people who are anxious to please. It is
a mild, contemplative, and calm amiability: these
people, as it were, look out of the windows of the
castle which serves them as a stronghold, and con-
sequently as a prison; for the outlook into the far
distance, the open air, and a different world is so
pleasant for them!
## p. 335 (#479) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 335
472.
Not Justifying Oneself. —
A. But why are you not willing to justify
yourself?
B. I could do it in this instance, as in dozens
of others; but I despise the pleasure which lies in
justification, for all that matters little to me, and I
would rather bear a stained reputation than give
those petty folks the spiteful pleasure of saying,
"He takes these things very seriously. " This is not
true. Perhaps I ought to have more consideration
for myself, and look upon it as a duty to rectify
erroneous opinions about myself—I am too in-
different and too indolent regarding myself, and
consequently also regarding everything that is
brought about through my agency.
473-
Where to Build one's House. —If you feel
great and productive in solitude, society will belittle
and isolate you, and vice versa. A powerful mild-
ness such as that of a father:—wherever this feeling
takes possession of you, there build your house,
whether in the midst of the multitude, or on some
silent spot. Ubipater sum, ibi patria*
474-
The only Means. —"Dialectic is the only
means of reaching the divine essence, and penetrat-
* A variation of the well-known proverb, Ubi bene, ibi
patria. —TR.
## p. 336 (#480) ############################################
336 THE DAWN OF DAY.
ing behind the veil of appearance. " This declara-
tion of Plato in regard to dialectic is as solemn and
passionate as that of Schopenhauer in regard to the
contrary of dialectic—and both are wrong. For
that to which they wish to point out the way to us
does not exist. —And so far have not all the great
passions of mankind been passions for something
non-existent? —and all their ceremonies—cere-
monies for something non-existent also?
475-
Becoming Heavy. —You know him not: what-
ever weights he may attach to himself he will
nevertheless be able to raise them all with him.
But you, judging from the weak flapping of your
own wings, come to the conclusion that he wishes
to remain below, merely because he does burden
himself with those weights.
476.
At the Harvest Thanksgiving of the
INTELLECT. —There is a daily increase and ac-
cumulation of experiences, events, opinions upon
these experiences and events, and dreams upon
these opinions—a boundless and delightful display
of wealth! its aspect dazzles the eyes: I can no
longer understand how the poor in spirit can be
called blessed! Occasionally, however, I envy
them when I am tired: for the superintendence of
such vast wealth is no easy task, and its weight
frequently crushes all happiness. —Alas, if only the
## p. 337 (#481) ############################################
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337
mere sight of it were sufficient! If only we could
be misers of our knowledge !
477.
FREED FROM SCEPTICISM. —
A. Some men emerge from a general moral
scepticism bad-tempered and feeble, corroded,
worm-eaten, and even partly consumed—but I on
the other hand, more courageous and healthier than
ever, and with my instincts conquered once more.
Where a strong wind blows, where the waves are
rolling angrily, and where more than usual danger
is to be faced, there I feel happy. I did not
become a worm, although I often had to work and
dig like a worm.
B. You have just ceased to be a sceptic; for
you deny !
A. And in doing so I have learnt to say yea
again.
478.
LET US PASS BY. -Spare him! Leave him in
his solitude ! Do you wish to crush him down
entirely? He became cracked like a glass into
which some hot liquid was poured suddenly—and
he was such a precious glass !
479.
LOVE AND TRUTHFULNESS. Through our love
we have become dire offenders against truth, and
even habitual dissimulators and thieves, who give
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333 THE DAWN OF DAY.
out more things as true than seem to us to be
true. On this account the thinker must from time
to time drive away those whom he loves (not
necessarily those who love him), so that they may
show their sting and wickedness, and cease to
tempt him. Consequently the kindness of the
thinker will have its waning and waxing moon.
480.
Inevitable. —No matter what your experience
may be, any one who does not feel well disposed
towards you will find in this experience some pre-
text for disparaging you! You may undergo the
greatest possible revolutions of mind and know-
ledge, and at length, with the melancholy smile of
the convalescent, you may be able to step out into
freedom and bright stillness, and yet some one will
say: "This fellow looks upon his illness as an
argument, and takes his impotence to be a proof
of the impotence of all others—he is vain enough
to fall ill that he may feel the superiority of the
sufferer. " And again, if somebody were to break
the chains that bound him down, and wounded
himself severely in doing so, some one else would
point at him mockingly and cry: "How awkward
he is! there is a man who had got accustomed to
his chains, and yet he is fool enough to burst them
asunder! "
481.
Two GERMANS—If we compare Kant and
Schopenhauer with Plato, Spinoza, Pascal, Rous-
seau, and Goethe, with reference to their souls
## p. 339 (#483) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 339
and not their intellects, we shall see that the two
first-named thinkers are at a disadvantage: their
thoughts do not constitute a passionate history of
their souls—we are not led to expect in them
romance, crises, catastrophies, or death struggles.
Their thinking is not at the same time the in-
voluntary biography of a soul, but in the case of
Kant merely of a head; and in the case of
Schopenhauer again merely the description and
reflection of a character (" the invariable ") and the
pleasure which this reflection causes, that is to say,
the pleasure of meeting with an intellect of the
first order.
Kant, when he shimmers through his thoughts,
appears to us as an honest and honourable man
in the best sense of the words, but likewise as an
insignificant one: he is wanting in breadth and
power; he had not come through many experi-
ences, and his method of working did not allow
him sufficient time to undergo experiences. Of
course, in speaking of experiences, I do not refer
to the ordinary external events of life, but to those
fatalities and convulsions which occur in the course
of the most solitary and quiet life which has some
leisure and glows with the passion for thinking.
Schopenhauer has at all events one advantage over
him; for he at least was distinguished by a certain
fierce ugliness of disposition, which showed itself in
hatred, desire, vanity, and suspicion: he was of a
rather more ferocious disposition, and had both
time and leisure to indulge this ferocity. But he
lacked "development," which was also wanting in
his range of thought: he had no "history. "
## p. 340 (#484) ############################################
34°
THE DAWN OF DAY.
482.
Seeking one's Company. —Are we then look-
ing for too much when we seek the company of
men who have grown mild, agreeable to the taste,
and nutritive, like chestnuts which have been put
into the fire and taken out just at the right
moment? Of men who expect little from life, and
prefer to accept this little as a present rather than
as a merit of their own, as if it were carried to them
by birds and bees? Of men who are too proud
ever to feel themselves rewarded, and too serious
in their passion for knowledge and honesty to have
time for or pleasure in fame? Such men we
should call philosophers; but they themselves will
always find some more modest designation.
483-
Satiated with Mankind. —
A. Seek for knowledge! Yes ■ but always as a
man! What?
## p. 331 (#459) ############################################
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321
448.
HONOURING REALITY. —How can we look at
this exulting multitude without tears and acqui-
escence? at one time we thought little of the object
of their exultation, and we should still think so if
we ourselves had not come through a similar experi-
ence. And what may these experiences lead us to !
what are our opinions! In order that we may not
lose ourselves and our reason we must fly from
experiences. It was thus that Plato fled from actu-
ality, and wished to contemplate things only in their
pale mental concepts: he was full of sensitiveness,
and knew how easily the waves of this sensitiveness
would drown his reason. -Must the sage therefore
say, “I will honour reality, but I will at the same
time turn my back to it because I know and dread
it? ” Ought he to behave as certain African tribes
do in the presence of their sovereign, whom they
approach backwards, thus showing their reverence
at the same time as their dread ?
449.
WHERE ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT ? -Oh, how
greatly it goes against my grain to impose my
own thoughts upon others! How I rejoice over
every mood and secret change within me as the
result of which the thoughts of others are victorious
over my own! but from time to time I enjoy an
even greater satisfaction, when I am allowed to
give away my intellectual possessions, like the
confessor sitting in his box and anxiously awaiting
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322
THE DAWN OF DAY.
the arrival of some distressed person who stands
in need of consolation, and will be only too glad to
relate the full misery of his thoughts so that the
listener's hand and heart will once again be filled,
and the troubled soul eased! Not only has the
confessor no desire for renown: he would fain shun
gratitude as well, for it is obtrusive, and does not
stand in awe of solitude or silence.
But to live without a name, and even to be
slightly sneered at; too obscure to arouse envy or
enmity; with a head free from fever, a handful
of knowledge, and a pocketful of experience; a
physician, as it were, of the poor in spirit, help-
ing this one or that one whose head is troubled with
opinions, without the latter perceiving who has
actually helped him! without any desire to appear
to be in the right in the presence of his patient, or
to carry off a victory. To speak to him in such a
way that, after a short and almost imperceptible
hint or objection, the listener may find out for him-
self what is right and proudly walk away! To be
like an obscure and unknown inn which turns no one
away who is in need, but which is afterwards for-
gotten and laughed at ! To be without any advan-
tages over others—neither possessing better food
nor purer air, nor a more cheerful mind-but always
to be giving away, returning, communicating, and
becoming poorer! To know how to be humble in
order to be accessible to many people and humili-
ating to none! To take a great deal of injustice
on his shoulders and creep through the cracks and
crannies of all kinds of errors, in order that we may
reach many obscure souls on their secret paths !
## p. 331 (#461) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
323
ever in possession of some kind of love, and some
kind of egoism and self-enjoyment! in possession
of power, and yet at the same time hidden and
resigned ! constantly basking in the sunshine and
sweetness of grace, and yet knowing that quite near
to us stands the ladder leading to the sublime ! -
that would be life! that would indeed be a reason
for a long life!
450.
THE TEMPTATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE. - A
glance through the gate of science acts upon
passionate spirits as the charm of charms: they will
probably become dreamers, or in the most favour-
able cases poets, so great is their desire for the
happiness of the man who can discern. Does it not
enter into all your senses, this note of sweet tempta-
tion by which science has announced its joyful
message in a thousand ways, and in the thousand
and first way, the noblest of all, “Begone, illusion !
for then 'Woe is me' also vanished, and with it woe
itself is gone” (Marcus Aurelius).
451.
FOR WHOM A COURT JESTER IS NEEDFUL. —
Those who are very beautiful, very good, and very
powerful scarcely ever learn the full and naked truth
about anything for in their presence we involun-
tarily lie a little, because we feel their influence, and
in view of this influence convey a truth in the form
of an adaptation (by falsifying the shades and
## p. 331 (#462) ############################################
324
THE DAWN OF DAY.
degrees of facts, by omitting or adding details, and
withholding that which is insusceptible of adapta-
tion). If, however, in spite of all this, people of this
description insist upon hearing the truth, they must
keep a court jester—a being with the madman's
privilege of being unable to adapt himself.
452.
IMPATIENCE. -There is a certain degree of im-
patience in men of thought and action, which in
cases of failure at once drives them to the opposite
camp, induces them to take a great interest in it,
and to give themselves up to new undertakings-
until here again the slowness of their success drives
them away. Thus they rove about, like so many
reckless adventurers, through the practices of many
kingdoms and natures; and in the end, as the
result of their wide knowledge of men and things,
acquired by their unheard of travel and practice, and
with a certain moderation of their craving, they be-
come powerful practical men. Hence a defect in
character may become the school of genius.
453.
A MORAL INTERREGNUM. —Who is now in a
position to describe that which will one day supplant
moral feelings and judgments ! -however certain we
may be that these are founded on error, and that
the building erected upon such foundations cannot
be repaired: their obligation must gradually diminish
from day to day, in so far as the obligation of reason
## p. 331 (#463) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
325
does not diminish! To carry out the task of re-
establishing the laws of life and action is still beyond
the power of our sciences of physiology and medicine,
society and solitude: though it is only from them
that we can borrow the foundation-stones of new
ideals (but not the ideals themselves). Thus we
live a preliminary or after existence, according to
our tastes and talents, and the best we can do in
this interregnum is to be as much as possible our
own "reges," and to establish small experimental
states. We are experiments: if we want to be
so!
454
A DIGRESSION. —A book like this is not intended
to be read through at once, or to be read aloud.
It is intended more particularly for reference,
especially on our walks and travels: we must take
it up and put it down again after a short reading,
and, more especially, we ought not to be amongst
our usual surroundings.
455.
THE PRIMARY NATURE. — As we are now
brought up, we begin by acquiring a secondary
nature, and we possess it when the world calls us
mature, of age, efficient. A few have sufficient of
the serpent about them to cast this skin some day,
when their primary nature has come to maturity
under it. But in the majority of people the germ
of it withers away.
## p. 331 (#464) ############################################
326
THE DAWN OF DAY.
456.
A VIRTUE IN PROCESS OF BECOMING. –Such
assertions and promises as those of the ancient
philosophers on the unity of virtue and felicity, or
that of Christianity, “Seek ye first the Kingdom
of God and His righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you," have never been made
with absolute sincerity, but always without a bad
conscience nevertheless. People were in the habit
of boldly laying down principles—which they
wished to be true-exactly as if they were truth
itself, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and
in doing this they felt neither religious nor moral
compunction; for it was in honorem maiorem of
virtue or of God that one had gone beyond truth,
without, however, any selfish intention !
Many good people still act up to this degree of
truthfulness: when they feel unselfish they think it
permissible to treat truth more lightly. Let it be
remembered that the word honesty is neither to be
found among the Socratic nor the Christian virtues :
it is one of our most recent virtues, not yet quite
mature, frequently misconstrued and misunder-
stood, scarcely conscious of itself—something in
embryo, which we may either promote or check
according to our inclination.
457.
FINAL TACITURNITY. —There are some men
who fare like the digger after hidden treasures :
they quite accidentally discover the carefully-
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327
preserved secrets of another's soul, and as a result
come into the possession of knowledge which it is
often a heavy burden to bear. In certain circum-
stances we may know the living and the dead, and
sound their inmost thoughts to such an extent that
it becomes painful to us to speak to others about
them : at every word we utter we are afraid of being
indiscreet. —I can easily imagine a sudden silence
on the part of the wisest historian.
458.
THE GREAT PRIZE. —There is a very rare thing,
but a very delightful one, viz. the man with a
nobly-formed intellect who possesses at the same
time the character and inclinations, and even
meets with the experiences, suited to such an
intellect.
459.
THE MAGNANIMITY OF THE THINKER. —Both
Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough
to inscribe upon their lives the motto, Vitam
impendere vero. And how they both must have
suffered in their pride because they could not succeed
in verum impendere vitæ ! —verum, such as each
of them understood it,—when their lives ran side
by side with their knowledge like an uncouth bass
which is not in tune with the melody.
Knowledge, however, would be in a bad way if
it were measured out to every thinker only in
proportion as it can be adapted to his own person.
And thinkers would be in a bad way if their vanity
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328
THE DAWN OF DAY.
were so great that they could only endure such an
adaptation, for the noblest virtue of a great thinker
is his magnanimity, which urges him on in his search
for knowledge to sacrifice himself and his life un-
shrinkingly, often shamefacedly, and often with
sublime scorn, and smiling.
460.
UTILISING OUR HOURS OF DANGER. —Those
men and conditions whose every movement may
mean danger to our possessions, honour, and life or
death, and to those most dear to us, we shall
naturally learn to know thoroughly. Tiberius,
for instance, must have meditated much more
deeply on the character and methods of government
of the Emperor Augustus, and must have known
far more about them than even the wisest historian.
At the present day we all live, relatively speak-
ing, in a security which is much too great to make
us true psychologists : some survey their fellow-men
as a hobby, others out of ennui, and others again
merely from habit; but never to the extent they
would do if they were told “Discern or perish ! ”
As long as truths do not cut us to the quick we
assume an attitude of contempt towards them:
they still appear to us too much like the "winged
dreams," as if we could or could not have them at
our discretion, as if we could likewise be aroused
from these truths as from a dream!
461.
Hic RHODUS, Hic SALTA-Our music, which
can and must change into everything, because
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
329
like the demon of the sea, it has no character of
its own : this music in former times devoted its
attention to the Christian savant, and transposed
his ideals into sounds : why cannot it likewise find
those brighter, more cheerful, and universal sounds
which correspond to the ideal thinker -a music
which could rock itself at ease in the vast floating
vaults of the soul ? So far our music has been so
great and so good; nothing seemed impossible to
its powers. May it therefore prove possible to
create these three sensations at one time: sublimity,
deep and warm light, and rapture of the greatest
possible consistency !
462.
Slow CURES. —Chronic illnesses of the soul,
like those of the body, are very rarely due to one
gross offence against physical and mental reason,
but as a general rule they arise from innumerable
and petty negligences of a minor order. -A man,
for example, whose breathing becomes a trifle
weaker every day, and whose lungs, by inhaling
too little air, are deprived of their proper amount
of exercise, will end by being struck down by some
chronic disease of the lungs. The only remedy for
cases like these is a countless number of minor
exercises of a contrary tendency-making it a
rule, for example, to take a long and deep breath
every quarter of an hour, lying flat on the ground
if possible. For this purpose a clock which strikes
the quarters should be chosen as a lifelong com-
panion.
All these remedies are slow and trifling; but
## p. 331 (#468) ############################################
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. --You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#469) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING:-
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. " By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#470) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well ? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#471) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up !
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again!
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#472) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“ You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
## p. 331 (#473) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind,
it was only a dream; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. —What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “ half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
## p. 331 (#474) ############################################
330
THE DAWN OF DAY.
yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will
carefully consider a change, even in his least
important habits. Many a man will utter a cold
and angry word to his surroundings ten times a
day without thinking about it, and he will forget
that after a few years it will have become a regular
habit with him to put his surroundings out of
temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire
the habit of doing good to them ten times.
463.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY. —“You praise this
as my creation ? but I have only put aside what
was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity
of creators. —You praise this as my resignation ?
but I have only stripped myself of what had become
burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the
resigned ones! ”
464.
THE DONOR'S MODESTY. — There is such a
want of generosity in always posing as the donor
and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing
so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time
to conceal one's name and favour! or not to have
a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more
refreshing to us than anything else—here at last
we no more meet with the giver and bestower,
no more with a “gracious countenance. ”—It is
true that you have now forfeited even this comfort,
for you have placed a God in this nature—and
now everything is once again fettered and op-
pressed! Well? are we never to have the right of
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THE DAWN OF DAY.
331
remaining alone with ourselves ? are we always
to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading
strings and gifts ? If there is always some one
round about us, the best part of courage and kind-
ness will ever remain impossible of attainment in
this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell
before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this
inevitable supernatural neighbour ? Never mind,
it was only a dream ; let us wake up!
465.
AT A MEETING: -
A. What are you looking at? you have been
standing here for a very long time.
B. Always the new and the old over again !
the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge
into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its
deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is
not worth so very much. At the end of all
experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of
sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small
scale several times a day.
466.
A LOSS OF RENOWN. -What an advantage it
is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind !
When they take away our anonymity, and make
us famous, the gods deprive us of “half our virtue. ”
467.
DOUBLY PATIENT. —“By doing this you will
hurt many people. ”—I know that, and I also know
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332 THE DAWN OF DAY.
that I shall have to suffer for it doubly: in the
first place out of pity for their suffering, and secondly
from the revenge they will take on me. But in
spite of this I cannot help doing what I do.
468.
The Kingdom of Beauty is Greater. —We
move about in nature, cunning and cheerful, in order
that we may surprise everything in the beauty
peculiar to it; we make an effort, whether in sun-
shine or under a stormy sky, to see a distant part
of the coast with its rocks, bays, and olive and
pine trees under an aspect in which it achieves its
perfection and consummation. Thus also we should
walk about among men as their discoverers and
explorers, meting out to them good and evil in
order that we may unveil the peculiar beauty which
is seen with some in the sunshine, in others under
thunder-clouds, or with others again only in twilight
and under a rainy sky.
Are we then forbidden to enjoy the evil man
like some savage landscape which possesses its own
bold and daring lines and luminous effects, while
this same man, so long as he behaves well, and in
conformity with the law, appears to us to be an
error of drawing, and a mere caricature which
offends us like a defect in nature? —Yes, this is
forbidden: for as yet we have only been permitted
to seek beauty in anything that is morally good,—
and this is sufficient to explain why we have found
so little and have been compelled to look for beauty
without either flesh or bones ! —in the same way as
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THE DAWN OF DAY. 333
evil men are familiar with innumerable kinds of
happiness which the virtuous never dream of, we
may also find among them innumerable types of
beauty, many of them as yet undiscovered.
469.
The Inhumanity of the Sage. —The heavy
and grinding progress of the sage, who in the
words of the Buddhist song, "Wanders lonely like
the rhinoceros," now and again stands in need of
proofs of a conciliatory and softened humanity, and
not only proofs of those accelerated steps, those
polite and sociable witticisms; not only of humour
and a certain self-mockery, but likewise of contra-
dictions and occasional returns to the predominating
inconsistencies. In order that he may not resemble
the heavy roller that rolls along like fate, the sage
who wishes to teach must take advantage of his
defects, and utilise them for his own adornment;
and when saying "despise me" he will implore
permission to be the advocate of a presumptuous
truth.
This sage wishes to lead you to the mountains,
and he will perhaps endanger your life: therefore
as the price of his enjoyment he willingly authorises
you to take your revenge either before or after-
wards on such a guide. Do you remember what
thoughts came into your head when he once led
you to a gloomy cavern over a slippery path? Your
distrustful heart beat rapidly, and said inwardly,
"This guide might surely do something better
than crawl about here! he is one of those idle
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334 THE DAWN OF DAY.
people who are full of curiosity—is it not doing
him too much honour to appear to attach any
value at all to him by following him? "
470.
Many at the Banquet. —How happy we are
when we are fed like the birds by the hand of
some one who throws them their crumbs without
examining them too closely, or inquiring into their
worthiness! To live like a bird which comes and
flies away, and does not carry its name on its beak!
I take great pleasure in satisfying my appetite at
the banquet of the many.
471.
Another type of Love for one's Neigh-
bour. —Everything that is agitated, noisy, fitful,
and nervous forms a contrast to the great passion
which, glowing in the heart of man like a quiet and
gloomy flame, and gathering about it all that is
flaming and ardent, gives to man the appearance
of coldness and indifference, and stamps a certain
impassiveness on his features. Such men are occa-
sionally capable of showing their love for their
neighbour, but this love is different from that of
sociable people who are anxious to please. It is
a mild, contemplative, and calm amiability: these
people, as it were, look out of the windows of the
castle which serves them as a stronghold, and con-
sequently as a prison; for the outlook into the far
distance, the open air, and a different world is so
pleasant for them!
## p. 335 (#479) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 335
472.
Not Justifying Oneself. —
A. But why are you not willing to justify
yourself?
B. I could do it in this instance, as in dozens
of others; but I despise the pleasure which lies in
justification, for all that matters little to me, and I
would rather bear a stained reputation than give
those petty folks the spiteful pleasure of saying,
"He takes these things very seriously. " This is not
true. Perhaps I ought to have more consideration
for myself, and look upon it as a duty to rectify
erroneous opinions about myself—I am too in-
different and too indolent regarding myself, and
consequently also regarding everything that is
brought about through my agency.
473-
Where to Build one's House. —If you feel
great and productive in solitude, society will belittle
and isolate you, and vice versa. A powerful mild-
ness such as that of a father:—wherever this feeling
takes possession of you, there build your house,
whether in the midst of the multitude, or on some
silent spot. Ubipater sum, ibi patria*
474-
The only Means. —"Dialectic is the only
means of reaching the divine essence, and penetrat-
* A variation of the well-known proverb, Ubi bene, ibi
patria. —TR.
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336 THE DAWN OF DAY.
ing behind the veil of appearance. " This declara-
tion of Plato in regard to dialectic is as solemn and
passionate as that of Schopenhauer in regard to the
contrary of dialectic—and both are wrong. For
that to which they wish to point out the way to us
does not exist. —And so far have not all the great
passions of mankind been passions for something
non-existent? —and all their ceremonies—cere-
monies for something non-existent also?
475-
Becoming Heavy. —You know him not: what-
ever weights he may attach to himself he will
nevertheless be able to raise them all with him.
But you, judging from the weak flapping of your
own wings, come to the conclusion that he wishes
to remain below, merely because he does burden
himself with those weights.
476.
At the Harvest Thanksgiving of the
INTELLECT. —There is a daily increase and ac-
cumulation of experiences, events, opinions upon
these experiences and events, and dreams upon
these opinions—a boundless and delightful display
of wealth! its aspect dazzles the eyes: I can no
longer understand how the poor in spirit can be
called blessed! Occasionally, however, I envy
them when I am tired: for the superintendence of
such vast wealth is no easy task, and its weight
frequently crushes all happiness. —Alas, if only the
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THE DAWN OF DAY:
337
mere sight of it were sufficient! If only we could
be misers of our knowledge !
477.
FREED FROM SCEPTICISM. —
A. Some men emerge from a general moral
scepticism bad-tempered and feeble, corroded,
worm-eaten, and even partly consumed—but I on
the other hand, more courageous and healthier than
ever, and with my instincts conquered once more.
Where a strong wind blows, where the waves are
rolling angrily, and where more than usual danger
is to be faced, there I feel happy. I did not
become a worm, although I often had to work and
dig like a worm.
B. You have just ceased to be a sceptic; for
you deny !
A. And in doing so I have learnt to say yea
again.
478.
LET US PASS BY. -Spare him! Leave him in
his solitude ! Do you wish to crush him down
entirely? He became cracked like a glass into
which some hot liquid was poured suddenly—and
he was such a precious glass !
479.
LOVE AND TRUTHFULNESS. Through our love
we have become dire offenders against truth, and
even habitual dissimulators and thieves, who give
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333 THE DAWN OF DAY.
out more things as true than seem to us to be
true. On this account the thinker must from time
to time drive away those whom he loves (not
necessarily those who love him), so that they may
show their sting and wickedness, and cease to
tempt him. Consequently the kindness of the
thinker will have its waning and waxing moon.
480.
Inevitable. —No matter what your experience
may be, any one who does not feel well disposed
towards you will find in this experience some pre-
text for disparaging you! You may undergo the
greatest possible revolutions of mind and know-
ledge, and at length, with the melancholy smile of
the convalescent, you may be able to step out into
freedom and bright stillness, and yet some one will
say: "This fellow looks upon his illness as an
argument, and takes his impotence to be a proof
of the impotence of all others—he is vain enough
to fall ill that he may feel the superiority of the
sufferer. " And again, if somebody were to break
the chains that bound him down, and wounded
himself severely in doing so, some one else would
point at him mockingly and cry: "How awkward
he is! there is a man who had got accustomed to
his chains, and yet he is fool enough to burst them
asunder! "
481.
Two GERMANS—If we compare Kant and
Schopenhauer with Plato, Spinoza, Pascal, Rous-
seau, and Goethe, with reference to their souls
## p. 339 (#483) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 339
and not their intellects, we shall see that the two
first-named thinkers are at a disadvantage: their
thoughts do not constitute a passionate history of
their souls—we are not led to expect in them
romance, crises, catastrophies, or death struggles.
Their thinking is not at the same time the in-
voluntary biography of a soul, but in the case of
Kant merely of a head; and in the case of
Schopenhauer again merely the description and
reflection of a character (" the invariable ") and the
pleasure which this reflection causes, that is to say,
the pleasure of meeting with an intellect of the
first order.
Kant, when he shimmers through his thoughts,
appears to us as an honest and honourable man
in the best sense of the words, but likewise as an
insignificant one: he is wanting in breadth and
power; he had not come through many experi-
ences, and his method of working did not allow
him sufficient time to undergo experiences. Of
course, in speaking of experiences, I do not refer
to the ordinary external events of life, but to those
fatalities and convulsions which occur in the course
of the most solitary and quiet life which has some
leisure and glows with the passion for thinking.
Schopenhauer has at all events one advantage over
him; for he at least was distinguished by a certain
fierce ugliness of disposition, which showed itself in
hatred, desire, vanity, and suspicion: he was of a
rather more ferocious disposition, and had both
time and leisure to indulge this ferocity. But he
lacked "development," which was also wanting in
his range of thought: he had no "history. "
## p. 340 (#484) ############################################
34°
THE DAWN OF DAY.
482.
Seeking one's Company. —Are we then look-
ing for too much when we seek the company of
men who have grown mild, agreeable to the taste,
and nutritive, like chestnuts which have been put
into the fire and taken out just at the right
moment? Of men who expect little from life, and
prefer to accept this little as a present rather than
as a merit of their own, as if it were carried to them
by birds and bees? Of men who are too proud
ever to feel themselves rewarded, and too serious
in their passion for knowledge and honesty to have
time for or pleasure in fame? Such men we
should call philosophers; but they themselves will
always find some more modest designation.
483-
Satiated with Mankind. —
A. Seek for knowledge! Yes ■ but always as a
man! What?
