—
How difficult it was in Athens to speak in such a
way as to win over the hearers to one's cause without
repelling them at the same time by the form in
which one's speech was cast, or withdrawing their
attention from the cause itself by this form I How
difficult it still is to write thus in France!
How difficult it was in Athens to speak in such a
way as to win over the hearers to one's cause without
repelling them at the same time by the form in
which one's speech was cast, or withdrawing their
attention from the cause itself by this form I How
difficult it still is to write thus in France!
Nietzsche - v09 - The Dawn of Day
Life is an adventure—whichever
side you may take in life it will always retain this
character! "—Thus speaks the poet of a restless and
vigorous age,an age which is almost intoxicated and
## p. 239 (#319) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 239
stupefied by its superabundance of blood and energy,
in an age more evil than our own: and this is why
it is necessary for us to adapt and accommodate
ourselves first to the purpose of a Shakespearian
play, that is, by misunderstanding it.
241.
Fear and Intelligence. —If that which is
now expressly maintained is true, viz. that the
cause of the black pigment of the skin must not be
sought in light, might this phenomenon perhaps be
the ultimate effect of frequent fits of passion ac-
cumulated for century after century (and an afflux
of blood under the skin)? while in other and more
intelligent races the equally frequent spasms of
fear and blanching may have resulted in the white
colour of the skin ? —For the degree of timidity is
the standard by which the intelligence may be
measured; and the fact that men give themselves
up to blind anger is an indication that their animal
nature is still near the surface, and is longing for an
opportunity to make its presence felt once more.
Thus a brownish-grey would probably be the
primitive colour of man—something of the ape and
the bear, as is only proper.
242.
Independence. —Independence (which in its
weakest form is called "freedom of thought") is
the type of resignation which the tyrannical man
ends by accepting—he who for a long time had
## p. 240 (#320) ############################################
240 THE DAWN OF DAY.
been looking for something to govern, but without
finding anything except himself.
243-
The two Courses. —When we endeavour to
examine the mirror in itself we discover in the end
that we can detect nothing there but the things
which it reflects. If we wish to grasp the things
reflected we touch nothing in the end but the
mirror. —This is the general history of knowledge.
244.
Delight in Reality. —Our present inclination
to take delight in reality—for almost every one of
us possesses it—can only be explained by the fact
that we have taken delight in the unreal for such
a long time that we have got tired of it. This
inclination in its present form, without choice and
without refinement, is not without danger—its least
danger is its want of taste.
245.
The Subtlety of the Feeling of Power. —
Napoleon was greatly mortified at the fact that he
could not speak well, and he did not deceive him-
self in this respect: but his thirst for power, which
never despised the slightest opportunity of showing
itself, and which was still more subtle than his subtle
intellect, led him to speak even worse than he might
have done. It was in this way that he revenged
himself upon his own mortification (he was jealous
## p. 241 (#321) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 24I
of all his emotions because they possessed power)
in order to enjoy his autocratic pleasure.
He enjoyed this pleasure a second time in respect
to the ears and judgment of his audience, as if it
were good enough for them to be addressed in this
way. He even secretly enjoyed the thought of
bewildering their judgment and good taste by the
thunder and lightning of his highest authority—
that authority which lies in the union of power and
genius—whileboth his judgment and his good taste
held fast proudly and indifferently to the truth that
he did not speak well. —Napoleon, as the complete
and fully developed type of a single instinct, belongs
to ancient humanity, whose characteristic—the
simple construction and ingenious development and
realisation of a single motive or a small number of
motives—may be easily enough recognised.
246.
Aristotle and Marriage. —Insanity makes
its appearance in the children of great geniuses, and
stupidity in those of the most virtuous—so says
Aristotle. Did he mean by this to invite excep-
tional men to marry?
247.
The Origin of a bad Temperament. —In-
justice and instability in the minds of certain men,
their disordered and immoderate manner, are the
ultimate consequences of the innumerable logical
inexactitudes, superficialities, and hasty conclusions
of which their ancestors have been guilty. Men of
a good temperament, on the other hand, are de-
Q
## p. 242 (#322) ############################################
242 THE DAWN OF DAY.
scended from solid and meditative races which have
set a high value upon reason—whether for praise-
worthy or evil purposes is of no great importance.
248.
Dissimulation as a Duty. —Kindness has
been best developed by the long dissimulation which
endeavoured to appear as kindness: wherever great
power existed the necessity for dissimulation of
this nature was recognised—it inspires security
and confidence, and multiplies the actual sum of
our physical power. Falsehood, if not actually
the mother, is at all events the nurse of kindness.
In the same way, honesty has been brought
to maturity by the need for a semblance of
honesty and integrity: in hereditary aristocracies.
The persistent exercise of such a dissimulation ends
by bringing about the actual nature of the thing
itself: the dissimulation in the long run suppresses
itself, and organs and instincts are the unexpected
fruits in this garden of hypocrisy.
249.
Who, then, is ever Alone. — The faint-
hearted wretch does not know what it means to be
lonely. An enemy is always prowling in his tracks.
Oh, for the man who could give us the history of
that subtle feeling called loneliness!
250.
NIGHT AND MUSic. —It was only at night time,
and in the semi-obscurity of dark forests and
caverns, that the ear, the organ of fear, was able to
## p. 243 (#323) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 243
develop itself so well, in accordance with the mode
of living of the timid—that is, the longest human
epoch which has ever yet existed: whenit isclearday-
light the ear is less necessary. Hence the character
of music, which is an art of night and twilight.
251.
STOicAl. —The Stoic experiences a certain sense
of cheerfulness when he feels oppressed by the
ceremonial which he has prescribed for himself:
he enjoys himself then as a ruler.
252.
Consider. —The man who is being punished is
no longer he who has done the deed. He is always
the scapegoat.
253.
Appearance. —Alas! what must be best and
most resolutely proved is appearance itself; for
only too many people lack eyes to observe it.
But it is so tiresome!
254.
Those who Anticipate. —What distinguishes
poetic natures, but is also a danger for them, is their
imagination, which exhausts itself in advance:
which anticipates what will happen or what may
happen, which enjoys and suffers in advance, and
which at the final moment of the event or the action
is already fatigued. Lord Byron, who was only
too familiar with this, wrote in his diary: "If ever
## p. 244 (#324) ############################################
244 THE DAWN OF DAY.
I have a son he shall choose a very prosaic profes-
sion—that of a lawyer or a pirate. "
255-
CONVERSATION ON MUSIC. —
A. What do you say to that music?
B. It has overpowered me, I can say nothing
about it. Listen! there it is beginning again.
A. All the better! This time let us do our best
to overpower it. Will you allow me to add a few
words to this music? and also to show you a drama
which perhaps at your first hearing you did not wish
to observe?
B. Very well, I have two ears and even more if
necessary; move up closer to me.
A. We have not yet heard what he wishes to
say to us, up to the present he has only promised
to say something—something as yet unheard, so he
gives us to understand by his gestures, for they are
gestures. How he beckons! How he raises him-
self up! How he gesticulates ! and now the moment
of supreme tension seems to have come to him:
two more fanfares, and he will present us with his
superb and splendidly-adorned theme, rattling, as
it were, with precious stones.
Is it a handsome woman? or a beautiful horse?
Enough, he looks about him as if enraptured, for
he must assemble looks of rapture. It is only now
that his theme quite pleases him: it is only now
that he becomes inventive and risks new and
audacious features. How he forces out his theme!
Ah, take care ! —he not only understands how to
## p. 245 (#325) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 245
adorn, but also how to gloss it over! Yes, he knows
what the colour of health is, and he knows how to
make it up,—he is more subtle in his self-conscious-
ness than I thought. And now he is convinced that
he has convinced his hearers; he sets off his im-
promptus as if they were the most important things
under the sun: he points to his theme with an
insolent finger as if it were too good for this world.
—Ah, how distrustful he is! He is afraid we may
get tired ! —that is why he buries his melody in
sweet notes. —Now he even appeals to our coarser
senses that he may excite us and thus get us once
again into his power. Listen to him as he conjures
up the elementary force of tempestuous and
thundering rhythms!
And now that he sees that these things have
captivated our attention, strangle us, and almost
overwhelm us, he once again ventures to introduce
his theme amidst this play of the elements in order
to convince us, confused and agitated as we are, that
our confusion and agitation are the effects of his
miraculous theme. And from now onwards his
hearers believe in him: as soon as the theme is
heard once more they are reminded of its thrilling
elementary effects. The theme profits by this re-
collection—now it has become demoniacal! What
a connoisseur of the soul he is! He gains command
over us by all the artifices of the popular orator.
But the music has stopped again.
B. And I am glad of it; for I could no longer
bear listening to your observations! I should prefer
ten times over to let myself be deceived to knowing
the truth once after your version.
## p. 246 (#326) ############################################
246 THE DAWN OF DAY.
A. That is just what I wished to hear from you.
The best people now are just like you: you are
quite content to let yourselves be deceived. You
come here with coarse, lustful ears, and you do not
bring with you your conscience of the art of listen-
ing. On the way here you have cast away your
intellectual honesty, and thus you corrupt both art
and artists. Whenever you applaud and cheer
you have in your hands the conscience of the
artists — and woe to art if they get to know
that you cannot distinguish between innocent and
guilty music! I do not indeed refer to "good"
and "bad" music—we meet with both in the two
kinds of music mentioned! but I call innocent
music that which thinks only of itself and be-
lieves only in itself, and which on account of itself
has forgotten the world at large—this spontaneous
expression of the most profound solitude which
speaks of itself and with itself, and has entirely for-
gotten that there are listeners, effects, misunder-
standings and failures in the world outside. In
short, the music which we have just heard is pre-
cisely of this rare and noble type; and everything
I said about it was a fable—pardon my little trick
if you will!
B. Oh, then you like this music, too? In that
case many sins shall be forgiven you!
256.
The Happiness of the Evil Ones. —These
silent, gloomy, and evil men possess a peculiar some-
thing which you cannot dispute with them—an
## p. 247 (#327) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 247
uncommon and strange enjoyment in the dolce far
niente; a sunset and evening rest, such as none can
enjoy but a heart which has been too often devoured,
lacerated, and poisoned by the passions.
257.
Words Present in our Minds. —We always
express our thoughts with those words which lie
nearest to hand. Or rather, if I may reveal my
full suspicion; at every moment we have only the
particular thought for the words that are present in
our minds.
258.
Flattering the Dog. —You have only to
stroke this dog's coat once, and he immediately
splutters and gives off sparks like any other flatterer
—and he is witty in his own way. Why should
we not endure him thus?
259.
The Quondam Panegyrist. —" He has now
become silent now in regard to me, although he
knows the truth and could tell it; but it would sound
like vengeance—and he values truth so highly, this
honourable man! "
260.
The Amulet of Dependent Men. —He who
is unavoidably dependent upon some masterought to
possess something by which he can inspire his master
with fear, and keep him in check: integrity, for
example, or probity, or an evil tongue.
## p. 248 (#328) ############################################
248 THE DAWN OF DAY.
26i.
Why so Sublime ! —Oh, I know them well this
breed of animals! Certainly it pleases them better
to walk on two legs " like a god "—but it pleases
me better when they fall back on their four feet.
This is incomparably more natural for them!
262.
The Demon of Power. —Neither necessity
nor desire, but the love of power, is the demon of
mankind. You may give men everything possible
—health,food,shelter,enjoyment—but they are and
remain unhappy and capricious, for the demon waits
and waits; and must be satisfied. Let everything
else be taken away from men, and let this demon
be satisfied, and then they will nearly be happy—
as happy as men and demons can be; but why do I
repeat this? Luther has already said it, and better
than I have done, in the verses:
"And though they take our life,
Goods, honour, children, wife,
Yet is their profit small,
These things shall vanish all,
The Kingdom it remaineth. "
The Kingdom! there it is again ! *
263.
Contradiction Incarnate and Animated.
—There is a physiological contradiction in what is
* A hit at the German Empire, which Nietzsche always
despised, since it led to the utter extinction of the old German
spirit. "Kingdom " (in " Kingdom of God ") and "Empire"
are both represented by the one German word Reich. —Tr.
## p. 249 (#329) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 249
called genius: genius possesses on the one hand a
great deal of savage disorder and involuntary move-
ment, and on the other hand a great deal of superior
activity in this movement . Joined to this a genius
possesses a mirror which reflects the two movements
beside one another, and within one another, but
often opposed to one another. Genius in conse-
quence of this sight is often unhappy, and if it feels
its greatest happiness in creating, it is because it for-
gets that precisely then, with the highest determinate
activity, it does something fantastic and irrational
(such is all art) and cannot help doing it.
264.
Deceiving One's Self. —Envious men with a
discriminating intuition endeavour not to become
too closely acquainted with their rivals in order that
they may feel themselves superior to them.
265.
There is a Time for the Theatre. —When
the imagination of a people begins to diminish, there
arises the desire to have its legends represented on
the stage: it then tolerates the coarse substitutes
for imagination. In the age of the epic rhapsodist,
however, the theatre itself, and the actor dressed
up as a hero, form an obstacle in the path of the
imagination instead of acting as wings for it
—too near, too definite, too heavy, and with too
little of dreamland and the flights of birds about
them.
## p. 250 (#330) ############################################
250 THE DAWN OF DAY.
266.
Without Charm. —He lacks charm and knows
it. Ah, how skilful he is in masking this defect!
He does it by a strict virtue, gloomy looks, and
acquired distrust of all men, and of existence itself;
by coarse jests, by contempt for a more refined
manner of living, by pathos and pretensions, and by
a cynical philosophy—yea, he has even developed
into a character through the continual knowledge
of his deficiency.
267.
Why SO Proud ? —A noble character is distin-
guished from a vulgar one by the fact that the latter
has not at ready command a certain number of
habits and points of view like the former: fate willed
that they should not be his either by inheritance or
by education.
268.
The Orator's Scylla and Charybdis.
—
How difficult it was in Athens to speak in such a
way as to win over the hearers to one's cause without
repelling them at the same time by the form in
which one's speech was cast, or withdrawing their
attention from the cause itself by this form I How
difficult it still is to write thus in France!
269.
Sick People and Art. —For all kinds of sad-
ness and misery of soul we should first of all try
## p. 251 (#331) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 251
a change of diet and severe manual labour; but in
such cases men are in the habit of having recourse
to mental intoxicants, to art for example—which is
both to their own detriment and that of art! Can
you not see that when you call for art as sick people
you make the artists themselves sick?
270.
Apparent Toleration. — Those are good,
benevolent, and rational words on and in favour of
science, but, alas! I see behind these words your
toleration of science. In a corner of your inmost
mind you think, in spite of all you say, that it is
not necessary for you, that it shows magnanimity on
your part to admit and even to advocate it, more
especially as science on its part does not exhibit
this magnanimity in regard to your opinion! Do
you know that you have no right whatever toexercise
this toleration? that this condescension of yours
is an even coarser disparagement of science than
any of that open scorn which a presumptuous priest
or artist might allow himself to indulge in towards
science? What is lacking in you is a strong sense
for everything that is true and actual, you do not
feel grieved and worried to find that science is in
contradiction to your own sentiments, you are un-
acquainted with that intense desire for knowledge
ruling over you like a law, you do not feel a duty
in the need of being present with your own eyes
wherever knowledge exists, and to let nothing that
is " known " escape you. You do not know that
which you are treating with such toleration! and
## p. 252 (#332) ############################################
252 THE DAWN OF DAY.
it is only because you do not know it that you can
succeed in adopting such a gracious attitude towards
it. You, forsooth, would look upon science with
hatred and fanaticism if it for once cast its shining
and illuminating glance upon you! What does it
matter to us, then, if you do exhibit toleration—and
towards a phantom! and not even towards us ! —
and what do we matter!
271.
Festive Moods. —It is exactly those men who
aspire most ardently towards power who feel it in-
describably agreeable to be overpowered! to sink
suddenly and deeply into a feeling as into a whirl-
pool! To suffer the reins to be snatched out of
their hand, and to watch a movement which takes
them they know not where! Whatever or who-
ever may be the person or thing that renders us
this service, it is nevertheless a great service: we
are so happy and breathless, and feel around us
an exceptional silence, as if we were in the most
central bowels of the earth. To be for once entirely
powerless! the plaything of the elementary forces
of nature! There is a restfulness in this happi-
ness, a casting away of the great burden, a descent
without fatigue, as if one had been given up to the
blind force of gravity.
This is the dream of the mountain climber, who,
although he sees his goal far above him, neverthe-
less Calls asleep on the way from utter exhaustion,
and dreams of the happiness of the contrast—this
effortless rolling down hill. I describe happiness
## p. 253 (#333) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 253
as I imagine it to be in our present-day society,
the badgered, ambitious society of Europe and
America. Now and then they wish to fall back
into impotence—this enjoyment is offered them
by wars, arts, religions, and geniuses. When a man
has temporarily abandoned himself to a moment-
ary impression which devours and crushes every-
thing—and this is the modern festive mood—he
afterwards becomes freer, colder, more refreshed,
and more strict, and again strives tirelessly after
the contrary of all this: power.
272.
The Purification of Races. —It is probable
that there are no pure races, but only races which
have become purified, and even these are extremely
rare. * We more often meet with crossed races,
among whom, together with the defects in the har-
mony of the bodily forms (for example when the
eyes do not accord with the mouth) we necessarily
always find defects of harmony in habits and ap-
preciations. (Livingstone heard some one say," God
created white and black men, but the devil created
the half-castes. ")
Crossed races are always at the same timecrossed
* This sentence is a complete refutation of a book which
caused so much stir in Germany about a decade ago, and in
England quite recently, Chamberlain's Nineteenth Century,
in which a purely imaginary Teutonic race is held up as
the Chosen People of the world. Nietzsche says elsewhere,
"Peoples and Countries," aphorism 21, " Associate with no
man who takes part in the mendacious race-swindle. "—Tr.
## p. 254 (#334) ############################################
254 THE DAWN OF DAY.
cultures and crossed moralities: they are, as a rule,
more evil, cruel, and restless. Purity is the final
result of innumerable adjustments, absorptions, and
eliminations; and progress towards purity in a race
is shown by the fact that the latent strength in the
race is more and more restricted to a few special
functions, whilst it formerly had to carry out too
many and often contradictory things. Such a re-
striction will always have the appearance of an
impoverishment, and must be judged with prudence
and moderation. In the long run, however,when the
process of purification has come to a successful ter-
mination,all those forceswhich were formerly wasted
in the struggle between the disharmonious qualities
are at the disposalof theorganismasawhole,and this
is why purified races have always become stronger
and more beautiful. —The Greeks may serve us as
a model of a purified race and culture ! —and it is
to be hoped that some day a pure European race
and culture may arise.
273-
PraISE. —Here is some one who, you per-
ceive, wishes to praise you: you bite your lips
and brace up your heart: Oh, that that cup
might go hence! But it does not, it comes!
let us therefore drink the sweet impudence of the
panegyrist, let us overcome the disgust and pro-
found contempt that we feel for the innermost
substance of his praise, let us assume a look of
thankful joy—for he wished to make himself agree-
able to us! And now that it is all over we know
## p. 255 (#335) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 255
that he feels greatly exalted; he has been victorious
over us. Yes, and also over himself, the villain ! —
for it was no easy matter for him to wring this
praise from himself.
274.
The Rights and Privileges of Man. —We
human beings are the only creatures who, when
things do not go well with us, can blot ourselves
out like a clumsy sentence,—whether we do so out
of honour for humanity or pity for it, or on account
of the aversion we feel towards ourselves.
275.
The Transformed Being. —Now he becomes
virtuous; but only for the sake of hurting others
by being so. Don't pay so much attention to him.
276.
How Often! How Unexpected ! —How may
married men have some morning awakened to the
fact that their young wife is dull, although she
thinks quite the contrary! not to speak of those
wives whose flesh is willing but whose intellect
is weak!
277.
Warm and Cold Virtues. —Courage is some-
times the consequence of cold and unshaken reso-
lution, and at other times of a fiery and reckless
elan. For these two kinds of courage there is only
the one name! —but how different, nevertheless,
## p. 255 (#336) ############################################
254
THE DAWN OF DAY.
cultures and crossed moralities: they are, as a rule,
more evil, cruel, and restless. Purity is the final
result of innumerable adjustments, absorptions, and
eliminations; and progress towards purity in a race
is shown by the fact that the latent strength in the
race is more and more restricted to a few special
functions, whilst it formerly had to carry out too
many and often contradictory things. Such a re-
striction will always have the appearance of an
impoverishment, and must be judged with prudence
and moderation. In the long run, however, when the
process of purification has come to a successful ter-
mination, all those forces which were formerly wasted
in the struggle between the disharmonious qualities
are at the disposal of the organism as a whole, and this
is why purified races have always become stronger
and more beautiful. — The Greeks may serve us as
a model of a purified race and culture ! —and it is
to be hoped that some day a pure European race
and culture may arise.
273.
PRAISE. —Here is some one who, you per-
ceive, wishes to praise you: you bite your lips
and brace up your heart: Oh, that that cup
might go hence! But it does not, it comes !
let us therefore drink the sweet impudence of the
panegyrist, let us overcome the disgust and pro-
found contempt that we feel for the innermost
substance of his praise, let us assume a look of
thankful joy-for he wished to make himself agree-
able to us! And now that it is all over we know
## p. 255 (#337) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
255
that he feels greatly exalted; he has been victorious
over us. Yes, and also over himself, the villain ! -
for it was no easy matter for him to wring this
praise from himself.
274.
THE RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES OF MAN. -We
human beings are the only creatures who, when
things do not go well with us, can blot ourselves
out like a clumsy sentence,—whether we do so out
of honour for humanity or pity for it, or on account
of the aversion we feel towards ourselves.
275.
THE TRANSFORMED BEING. –Now he becomes
virtuous; but only for the sake of hurting others
by being so. Don't pay so much attention to him.
276.
How OFTEN! How UNEXPECTED ! —How may
married men have some morning awakened to the
fact that their young wife is dull, although she
thinks quite the contrary! not to speak of those
wives whose flesh is willing but whose intellect
is weak!
277.
WARM AND COLD VIRTUES. — Courage is some-
times the consequence of cold and unshaken reso-
lution, and at other times of a fiery and reckless
élan. For these two kinds of courage there is only
the one name ! —but how different, nevertheless,
## p. 256 (#338) ############################################
256 THE DAWN OF DAY.
are cold virtues and warm virtues! and the man
would be a fool who could suppose that " good-
ness" could only be brought about by warmth,
and no less a fool he who would only attribute it
to cold. The truth is that mankind has found
both warm and cold courage very useful, yet not
often enough to prevent it from setting them both
in the category of precious stones.
'278.
The GRACIOUS Memory. —A man of high rank
will do well to develop a gracious memory, that
is, to note all the good qualities of people and re-
member them particularly; for in this way he holds
them in an agreeable dependence. A man may also
act in this way towards himself: whether or not he
has a gracious memory determines in the end the
superiority, gentleness, or distrust with which he ob-
serves his own inclinations and intentions,andfinally
even the nature of these inclinations and intentions.
279.
Wherein we become Artists. — He who
makes an idol of some one endeavours to justify
himself in his own eyes by idealising this person:
in other words, he becomes an artist that he may
have a clear conscience. When he suffers he does
not suffer from his ignorance, but from the lie he
has told himself to make himself ignorant. The
inmost misery and desire of such a man—and all
passionate lovers are included in this category—
cannot be exhausted by normal means.
## p. 257 (#339) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 257
280.
CHILDLIKE. — Those who live like children—
those who have not to struggle for their daily
bread, and do not think that their actions have
any ultimate signification—remain childlike.
281.
Our Ego desires Everything. — It would
seem as if men in general were only inspired by the
desire to possess: languages at least would permit
of this supposition, for they view past actions from
the standpoint that we have been put in possession
of something — "I have spoken, struggled, con-
quered "—as if to say, I am now in possession of
my word, my struggle, my victory. How greedy
man appears in this light! he cannot even let the
past escape him: he even wishes to have it still!
282.
Danger in Beauty. —This woman is beautiful
and intelligent: alas, how much more intelligent she
would have become if she had not been beautiful!
283.
Domestic and Mental Peace. —Our habitual
mood depends upon the mood in which we maintain
our habitual entourage.
284.
New Things as Old Ones. —Many people
seem irritated when something new is told them:
R
## p. 258 (#340) ############################################
/
/
. ■
2J8 THE DAWN OF DAY.
they feel the ascendancy which the news has given
to the person who has learnt it first.
285.
What are the Limits of the Ego. —The
majority of people take under their protection, as
it were, something that they know, as if the fact
of knowing it was sufficient in itself to make it
their property. The acquisitiveness of the egoistic
feeling has no limits: Great men speak as if they
had behind them the whole of time, and had
placed themselves at the head of this enormous
host; and good women boast of the beauty of their
children, their clothes, their dog, their physician,
or their native town, but the only thing they dare
not say is, " I am all that. " Chi non ha non e—
as they say in Italy.
286.
Domestic Animals, Pets and the Like. —
Could there be anything more repugnant than the
sentimentality which is shown to plants and animals
—and this on the part of a creature who from the
very beginning has made such ravages among
them as their most ferocious enemy,—and who
ends by even claiming affectionate feelings from his
weakened and mutilated victims! Before this kind
of " nature" man must above all be serious, if he
is any sort of a thinking being.
287.
Two FRIENDS. —They were friends once, but
now they have ceased to be so, and both of them
## p. 259 (#341) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 259
broke off the friendship at the same time, the one
because he believed himself to be too greatly mis-
understood, and the other because he thought he
was known too intimately—and both were wrong!
For neither of them knew himself well enough.
288.
The Comedy of the Noble Souls. —Those
whocannot succeed in exhibiting a noble and cordial
familiarity endeavour to let the nobleness of their
nature be seen by their exercise of reserve and
strictness, and a certain contempt for familiarity,
as if their strong sense of confidence were ashamed
to show itsell.
289.
Where we may say Nothing against
Virtue. —Among cowards it is thought bad form
to say anything against bravery, for any expression
of this kind would give rise to some contempt;
and unfeeling people are irritated when anything
is said against pity. *
290.
A Waste. —We find that with irritable and
abrupt people their first words and actions generally
afford no indication of their actual character—they
are prompted by circumstances, and are to some
* The fiercest protests against Nietzsche's teaching even
now come from the " unfeeling people. " Hence the difficulty
—now happily past—of introducing him into Anglo-Saxon
countries. —Tr.
## p. 260 (#342) ############################################
260 THE DAWN OF DAY.
extent simply reproductions of the spirit of these
circumstances. Because, however, as the words
have been uttered and the deeds done,the subsequent
words and deeds, indicating the real nature of such
people, have often to be used to reconcile, amend,
or extinguish the former.
291.
ARROGANCE. —Arrogance is an artificial and
simulated pride; but it is precisely the essential
nature of pride to be incapable of artifice, simu-
lation, or hypocrisy—and thus arrogance is the
hypocrisy of the incapacity for hypocrisy, a very
difficult thing, and one which is a failure in most
cases. But if we suppose that, as most frequently
happens, the presumptuous person betrays himself,
then a treble annoyance falls to his lot: people
are angry with him because he has endeavoured to
deceive them, and because he wished to show himself
superior to them, and finally they laugh at him
because he failed in both these endeavours. How
earnestly, therefore, should we dissuade our fellow-
men from arrogance!
292.
A Species of Misconception. —When we hear
somebody speak it is often sufficient for his pro-
nunciation of a single consonant (the letter r, for
example) to fill us with doubts as to the honesty
of his feelings: we are not accustomed to this
particular pronunciation, and should have to make
it ourselves as it were arbitrarily—it sounds "forced"
## p. 261 (#343) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 26i
to us. This is the domain of the greatest possible
misconception: and it is the same with the style
of a writer who has certain habits which are not the
habits of everybody. His "artlessness" is felt as
such only by himself, and precisely in regard to that
which he himself feels to be " forced " (because he
has yielded in this matter to the prevailing fashion
and to so called "good taste"), he may perhaps
give pleasure and inspire confidence.
293-
Thankful. —One superfluous grain of gratitude
and piety makes one suffer as from a vice—in
spite of all one's independence and honesty one
begins to have a bad conscience.
294.
Saints. —It is the most sensual men who find
it necessary to avoid women and to torture their
bodies.
295.
The Subtlety of Serving. —One of the most
subtle tasks in the great art of serving is that of
serving a more than usually ambitious man, who,
indeed, is excessively egoistic in all things, but is
entirely adverse to being thought so (this is part
of his ambition). He requires that everything shall
be according to his own will and humour, yet in
such a way as to give him the appearance of always
having sacrificed himself, and of rarely desiring
anything for himself alone.
## p.
side you may take in life it will always retain this
character! "—Thus speaks the poet of a restless and
vigorous age,an age which is almost intoxicated and
## p. 239 (#319) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 239
stupefied by its superabundance of blood and energy,
in an age more evil than our own: and this is why
it is necessary for us to adapt and accommodate
ourselves first to the purpose of a Shakespearian
play, that is, by misunderstanding it.
241.
Fear and Intelligence. —If that which is
now expressly maintained is true, viz. that the
cause of the black pigment of the skin must not be
sought in light, might this phenomenon perhaps be
the ultimate effect of frequent fits of passion ac-
cumulated for century after century (and an afflux
of blood under the skin)? while in other and more
intelligent races the equally frequent spasms of
fear and blanching may have resulted in the white
colour of the skin ? —For the degree of timidity is
the standard by which the intelligence may be
measured; and the fact that men give themselves
up to blind anger is an indication that their animal
nature is still near the surface, and is longing for an
opportunity to make its presence felt once more.
Thus a brownish-grey would probably be the
primitive colour of man—something of the ape and
the bear, as is only proper.
242.
Independence. —Independence (which in its
weakest form is called "freedom of thought") is
the type of resignation which the tyrannical man
ends by accepting—he who for a long time had
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240 THE DAWN OF DAY.
been looking for something to govern, but without
finding anything except himself.
243-
The two Courses. —When we endeavour to
examine the mirror in itself we discover in the end
that we can detect nothing there but the things
which it reflects. If we wish to grasp the things
reflected we touch nothing in the end but the
mirror. —This is the general history of knowledge.
244.
Delight in Reality. —Our present inclination
to take delight in reality—for almost every one of
us possesses it—can only be explained by the fact
that we have taken delight in the unreal for such
a long time that we have got tired of it. This
inclination in its present form, without choice and
without refinement, is not without danger—its least
danger is its want of taste.
245.
The Subtlety of the Feeling of Power. —
Napoleon was greatly mortified at the fact that he
could not speak well, and he did not deceive him-
self in this respect: but his thirst for power, which
never despised the slightest opportunity of showing
itself, and which was still more subtle than his subtle
intellect, led him to speak even worse than he might
have done. It was in this way that he revenged
himself upon his own mortification (he was jealous
## p. 241 (#321) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 24I
of all his emotions because they possessed power)
in order to enjoy his autocratic pleasure.
He enjoyed this pleasure a second time in respect
to the ears and judgment of his audience, as if it
were good enough for them to be addressed in this
way. He even secretly enjoyed the thought of
bewildering their judgment and good taste by the
thunder and lightning of his highest authority—
that authority which lies in the union of power and
genius—whileboth his judgment and his good taste
held fast proudly and indifferently to the truth that
he did not speak well. —Napoleon, as the complete
and fully developed type of a single instinct, belongs
to ancient humanity, whose characteristic—the
simple construction and ingenious development and
realisation of a single motive or a small number of
motives—may be easily enough recognised.
246.
Aristotle and Marriage. —Insanity makes
its appearance in the children of great geniuses, and
stupidity in those of the most virtuous—so says
Aristotle. Did he mean by this to invite excep-
tional men to marry?
247.
The Origin of a bad Temperament. —In-
justice and instability in the minds of certain men,
their disordered and immoderate manner, are the
ultimate consequences of the innumerable logical
inexactitudes, superficialities, and hasty conclusions
of which their ancestors have been guilty. Men of
a good temperament, on the other hand, are de-
Q
## p. 242 (#322) ############################################
242 THE DAWN OF DAY.
scended from solid and meditative races which have
set a high value upon reason—whether for praise-
worthy or evil purposes is of no great importance.
248.
Dissimulation as a Duty. —Kindness has
been best developed by the long dissimulation which
endeavoured to appear as kindness: wherever great
power existed the necessity for dissimulation of
this nature was recognised—it inspires security
and confidence, and multiplies the actual sum of
our physical power. Falsehood, if not actually
the mother, is at all events the nurse of kindness.
In the same way, honesty has been brought
to maturity by the need for a semblance of
honesty and integrity: in hereditary aristocracies.
The persistent exercise of such a dissimulation ends
by bringing about the actual nature of the thing
itself: the dissimulation in the long run suppresses
itself, and organs and instincts are the unexpected
fruits in this garden of hypocrisy.
249.
Who, then, is ever Alone. — The faint-
hearted wretch does not know what it means to be
lonely. An enemy is always prowling in his tracks.
Oh, for the man who could give us the history of
that subtle feeling called loneliness!
250.
NIGHT AND MUSic. —It was only at night time,
and in the semi-obscurity of dark forests and
caverns, that the ear, the organ of fear, was able to
## p. 243 (#323) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 243
develop itself so well, in accordance with the mode
of living of the timid—that is, the longest human
epoch which has ever yet existed: whenit isclearday-
light the ear is less necessary. Hence the character
of music, which is an art of night and twilight.
251.
STOicAl. —The Stoic experiences a certain sense
of cheerfulness when he feels oppressed by the
ceremonial which he has prescribed for himself:
he enjoys himself then as a ruler.
252.
Consider. —The man who is being punished is
no longer he who has done the deed. He is always
the scapegoat.
253.
Appearance. —Alas! what must be best and
most resolutely proved is appearance itself; for
only too many people lack eyes to observe it.
But it is so tiresome!
254.
Those who Anticipate. —What distinguishes
poetic natures, but is also a danger for them, is their
imagination, which exhausts itself in advance:
which anticipates what will happen or what may
happen, which enjoys and suffers in advance, and
which at the final moment of the event or the action
is already fatigued. Lord Byron, who was only
too familiar with this, wrote in his diary: "If ever
## p. 244 (#324) ############################################
244 THE DAWN OF DAY.
I have a son he shall choose a very prosaic profes-
sion—that of a lawyer or a pirate. "
255-
CONVERSATION ON MUSIC. —
A. What do you say to that music?
B. It has overpowered me, I can say nothing
about it. Listen! there it is beginning again.
A. All the better! This time let us do our best
to overpower it. Will you allow me to add a few
words to this music? and also to show you a drama
which perhaps at your first hearing you did not wish
to observe?
B. Very well, I have two ears and even more if
necessary; move up closer to me.
A. We have not yet heard what he wishes to
say to us, up to the present he has only promised
to say something—something as yet unheard, so he
gives us to understand by his gestures, for they are
gestures. How he beckons! How he raises him-
self up! How he gesticulates ! and now the moment
of supreme tension seems to have come to him:
two more fanfares, and he will present us with his
superb and splendidly-adorned theme, rattling, as
it were, with precious stones.
Is it a handsome woman? or a beautiful horse?
Enough, he looks about him as if enraptured, for
he must assemble looks of rapture. It is only now
that his theme quite pleases him: it is only now
that he becomes inventive and risks new and
audacious features. How he forces out his theme!
Ah, take care ! —he not only understands how to
## p. 245 (#325) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 245
adorn, but also how to gloss it over! Yes, he knows
what the colour of health is, and he knows how to
make it up,—he is more subtle in his self-conscious-
ness than I thought. And now he is convinced that
he has convinced his hearers; he sets off his im-
promptus as if they were the most important things
under the sun: he points to his theme with an
insolent finger as if it were too good for this world.
—Ah, how distrustful he is! He is afraid we may
get tired ! —that is why he buries his melody in
sweet notes. —Now he even appeals to our coarser
senses that he may excite us and thus get us once
again into his power. Listen to him as he conjures
up the elementary force of tempestuous and
thundering rhythms!
And now that he sees that these things have
captivated our attention, strangle us, and almost
overwhelm us, he once again ventures to introduce
his theme amidst this play of the elements in order
to convince us, confused and agitated as we are, that
our confusion and agitation are the effects of his
miraculous theme. And from now onwards his
hearers believe in him: as soon as the theme is
heard once more they are reminded of its thrilling
elementary effects. The theme profits by this re-
collection—now it has become demoniacal! What
a connoisseur of the soul he is! He gains command
over us by all the artifices of the popular orator.
But the music has stopped again.
B. And I am glad of it; for I could no longer
bear listening to your observations! I should prefer
ten times over to let myself be deceived to knowing
the truth once after your version.
## p. 246 (#326) ############################################
246 THE DAWN OF DAY.
A. That is just what I wished to hear from you.
The best people now are just like you: you are
quite content to let yourselves be deceived. You
come here with coarse, lustful ears, and you do not
bring with you your conscience of the art of listen-
ing. On the way here you have cast away your
intellectual honesty, and thus you corrupt both art
and artists. Whenever you applaud and cheer
you have in your hands the conscience of the
artists — and woe to art if they get to know
that you cannot distinguish between innocent and
guilty music! I do not indeed refer to "good"
and "bad" music—we meet with both in the two
kinds of music mentioned! but I call innocent
music that which thinks only of itself and be-
lieves only in itself, and which on account of itself
has forgotten the world at large—this spontaneous
expression of the most profound solitude which
speaks of itself and with itself, and has entirely for-
gotten that there are listeners, effects, misunder-
standings and failures in the world outside. In
short, the music which we have just heard is pre-
cisely of this rare and noble type; and everything
I said about it was a fable—pardon my little trick
if you will!
B. Oh, then you like this music, too? In that
case many sins shall be forgiven you!
256.
The Happiness of the Evil Ones. —These
silent, gloomy, and evil men possess a peculiar some-
thing which you cannot dispute with them—an
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THE DAWN OF DAY. 247
uncommon and strange enjoyment in the dolce far
niente; a sunset and evening rest, such as none can
enjoy but a heart which has been too often devoured,
lacerated, and poisoned by the passions.
257.
Words Present in our Minds. —We always
express our thoughts with those words which lie
nearest to hand. Or rather, if I may reveal my
full suspicion; at every moment we have only the
particular thought for the words that are present in
our minds.
258.
Flattering the Dog. —You have only to
stroke this dog's coat once, and he immediately
splutters and gives off sparks like any other flatterer
—and he is witty in his own way. Why should
we not endure him thus?
259.
The Quondam Panegyrist. —" He has now
become silent now in regard to me, although he
knows the truth and could tell it; but it would sound
like vengeance—and he values truth so highly, this
honourable man! "
260.
The Amulet of Dependent Men. —He who
is unavoidably dependent upon some masterought to
possess something by which he can inspire his master
with fear, and keep him in check: integrity, for
example, or probity, or an evil tongue.
## p. 248 (#328) ############################################
248 THE DAWN OF DAY.
26i.
Why so Sublime ! —Oh, I know them well this
breed of animals! Certainly it pleases them better
to walk on two legs " like a god "—but it pleases
me better when they fall back on their four feet.
This is incomparably more natural for them!
262.
The Demon of Power. —Neither necessity
nor desire, but the love of power, is the demon of
mankind. You may give men everything possible
—health,food,shelter,enjoyment—but they are and
remain unhappy and capricious, for the demon waits
and waits; and must be satisfied. Let everything
else be taken away from men, and let this demon
be satisfied, and then they will nearly be happy—
as happy as men and demons can be; but why do I
repeat this? Luther has already said it, and better
than I have done, in the verses:
"And though they take our life,
Goods, honour, children, wife,
Yet is their profit small,
These things shall vanish all,
The Kingdom it remaineth. "
The Kingdom! there it is again ! *
263.
Contradiction Incarnate and Animated.
—There is a physiological contradiction in what is
* A hit at the German Empire, which Nietzsche always
despised, since it led to the utter extinction of the old German
spirit. "Kingdom " (in " Kingdom of God ") and "Empire"
are both represented by the one German word Reich. —Tr.
## p. 249 (#329) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 249
called genius: genius possesses on the one hand a
great deal of savage disorder and involuntary move-
ment, and on the other hand a great deal of superior
activity in this movement . Joined to this a genius
possesses a mirror which reflects the two movements
beside one another, and within one another, but
often opposed to one another. Genius in conse-
quence of this sight is often unhappy, and if it feels
its greatest happiness in creating, it is because it for-
gets that precisely then, with the highest determinate
activity, it does something fantastic and irrational
(such is all art) and cannot help doing it.
264.
Deceiving One's Self. —Envious men with a
discriminating intuition endeavour not to become
too closely acquainted with their rivals in order that
they may feel themselves superior to them.
265.
There is a Time for the Theatre. —When
the imagination of a people begins to diminish, there
arises the desire to have its legends represented on
the stage: it then tolerates the coarse substitutes
for imagination. In the age of the epic rhapsodist,
however, the theatre itself, and the actor dressed
up as a hero, form an obstacle in the path of the
imagination instead of acting as wings for it
—too near, too definite, too heavy, and with too
little of dreamland and the flights of birds about
them.
## p. 250 (#330) ############################################
250 THE DAWN OF DAY.
266.
Without Charm. —He lacks charm and knows
it. Ah, how skilful he is in masking this defect!
He does it by a strict virtue, gloomy looks, and
acquired distrust of all men, and of existence itself;
by coarse jests, by contempt for a more refined
manner of living, by pathos and pretensions, and by
a cynical philosophy—yea, he has even developed
into a character through the continual knowledge
of his deficiency.
267.
Why SO Proud ? —A noble character is distin-
guished from a vulgar one by the fact that the latter
has not at ready command a certain number of
habits and points of view like the former: fate willed
that they should not be his either by inheritance or
by education.
268.
The Orator's Scylla and Charybdis.
—
How difficult it was in Athens to speak in such a
way as to win over the hearers to one's cause without
repelling them at the same time by the form in
which one's speech was cast, or withdrawing their
attention from the cause itself by this form I How
difficult it still is to write thus in France!
269.
Sick People and Art. —For all kinds of sad-
ness and misery of soul we should first of all try
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THE DAWN OF DAY. 251
a change of diet and severe manual labour; but in
such cases men are in the habit of having recourse
to mental intoxicants, to art for example—which is
both to their own detriment and that of art! Can
you not see that when you call for art as sick people
you make the artists themselves sick?
270.
Apparent Toleration. — Those are good,
benevolent, and rational words on and in favour of
science, but, alas! I see behind these words your
toleration of science. In a corner of your inmost
mind you think, in spite of all you say, that it is
not necessary for you, that it shows magnanimity on
your part to admit and even to advocate it, more
especially as science on its part does not exhibit
this magnanimity in regard to your opinion! Do
you know that you have no right whatever toexercise
this toleration? that this condescension of yours
is an even coarser disparagement of science than
any of that open scorn which a presumptuous priest
or artist might allow himself to indulge in towards
science? What is lacking in you is a strong sense
for everything that is true and actual, you do not
feel grieved and worried to find that science is in
contradiction to your own sentiments, you are un-
acquainted with that intense desire for knowledge
ruling over you like a law, you do not feel a duty
in the need of being present with your own eyes
wherever knowledge exists, and to let nothing that
is " known " escape you. You do not know that
which you are treating with such toleration! and
## p. 252 (#332) ############################################
252 THE DAWN OF DAY.
it is only because you do not know it that you can
succeed in adopting such a gracious attitude towards
it. You, forsooth, would look upon science with
hatred and fanaticism if it for once cast its shining
and illuminating glance upon you! What does it
matter to us, then, if you do exhibit toleration—and
towards a phantom! and not even towards us ! —
and what do we matter!
271.
Festive Moods. —It is exactly those men who
aspire most ardently towards power who feel it in-
describably agreeable to be overpowered! to sink
suddenly and deeply into a feeling as into a whirl-
pool! To suffer the reins to be snatched out of
their hand, and to watch a movement which takes
them they know not where! Whatever or who-
ever may be the person or thing that renders us
this service, it is nevertheless a great service: we
are so happy and breathless, and feel around us
an exceptional silence, as if we were in the most
central bowels of the earth. To be for once entirely
powerless! the plaything of the elementary forces
of nature! There is a restfulness in this happi-
ness, a casting away of the great burden, a descent
without fatigue, as if one had been given up to the
blind force of gravity.
This is the dream of the mountain climber, who,
although he sees his goal far above him, neverthe-
less Calls asleep on the way from utter exhaustion,
and dreams of the happiness of the contrast—this
effortless rolling down hill. I describe happiness
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THE DAWN OF DAY. 253
as I imagine it to be in our present-day society,
the badgered, ambitious society of Europe and
America. Now and then they wish to fall back
into impotence—this enjoyment is offered them
by wars, arts, religions, and geniuses. When a man
has temporarily abandoned himself to a moment-
ary impression which devours and crushes every-
thing—and this is the modern festive mood—he
afterwards becomes freer, colder, more refreshed,
and more strict, and again strives tirelessly after
the contrary of all this: power.
272.
The Purification of Races. —It is probable
that there are no pure races, but only races which
have become purified, and even these are extremely
rare. * We more often meet with crossed races,
among whom, together with the defects in the har-
mony of the bodily forms (for example when the
eyes do not accord with the mouth) we necessarily
always find defects of harmony in habits and ap-
preciations. (Livingstone heard some one say," God
created white and black men, but the devil created
the half-castes. ")
Crossed races are always at the same timecrossed
* This sentence is a complete refutation of a book which
caused so much stir in Germany about a decade ago, and in
England quite recently, Chamberlain's Nineteenth Century,
in which a purely imaginary Teutonic race is held up as
the Chosen People of the world. Nietzsche says elsewhere,
"Peoples and Countries," aphorism 21, " Associate with no
man who takes part in the mendacious race-swindle. "—Tr.
## p. 254 (#334) ############################################
254 THE DAWN OF DAY.
cultures and crossed moralities: they are, as a rule,
more evil, cruel, and restless. Purity is the final
result of innumerable adjustments, absorptions, and
eliminations; and progress towards purity in a race
is shown by the fact that the latent strength in the
race is more and more restricted to a few special
functions, whilst it formerly had to carry out too
many and often contradictory things. Such a re-
striction will always have the appearance of an
impoverishment, and must be judged with prudence
and moderation. In the long run, however,when the
process of purification has come to a successful ter-
mination,all those forceswhich were formerly wasted
in the struggle between the disharmonious qualities
are at the disposalof theorganismasawhole,and this
is why purified races have always become stronger
and more beautiful. —The Greeks may serve us as
a model of a purified race and culture ! —and it is
to be hoped that some day a pure European race
and culture may arise.
273-
PraISE. —Here is some one who, you per-
ceive, wishes to praise you: you bite your lips
and brace up your heart: Oh, that that cup
might go hence! But it does not, it comes!
let us therefore drink the sweet impudence of the
panegyrist, let us overcome the disgust and pro-
found contempt that we feel for the innermost
substance of his praise, let us assume a look of
thankful joy—for he wished to make himself agree-
able to us! And now that it is all over we know
## p. 255 (#335) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 255
that he feels greatly exalted; he has been victorious
over us. Yes, and also over himself, the villain ! —
for it was no easy matter for him to wring this
praise from himself.
274.
The Rights and Privileges of Man. —We
human beings are the only creatures who, when
things do not go well with us, can blot ourselves
out like a clumsy sentence,—whether we do so out
of honour for humanity or pity for it, or on account
of the aversion we feel towards ourselves.
275.
The Transformed Being. —Now he becomes
virtuous; but only for the sake of hurting others
by being so. Don't pay so much attention to him.
276.
How Often! How Unexpected ! —How may
married men have some morning awakened to the
fact that their young wife is dull, although she
thinks quite the contrary! not to speak of those
wives whose flesh is willing but whose intellect
is weak!
277.
Warm and Cold Virtues. —Courage is some-
times the consequence of cold and unshaken reso-
lution, and at other times of a fiery and reckless
elan. For these two kinds of courage there is only
the one name! —but how different, nevertheless,
## p. 255 (#336) ############################################
254
THE DAWN OF DAY.
cultures and crossed moralities: they are, as a rule,
more evil, cruel, and restless. Purity is the final
result of innumerable adjustments, absorptions, and
eliminations; and progress towards purity in a race
is shown by the fact that the latent strength in the
race is more and more restricted to a few special
functions, whilst it formerly had to carry out too
many and often contradictory things. Such a re-
striction will always have the appearance of an
impoverishment, and must be judged with prudence
and moderation. In the long run, however, when the
process of purification has come to a successful ter-
mination, all those forces which were formerly wasted
in the struggle between the disharmonious qualities
are at the disposal of the organism as a whole, and this
is why purified races have always become stronger
and more beautiful. — The Greeks may serve us as
a model of a purified race and culture ! —and it is
to be hoped that some day a pure European race
and culture may arise.
273.
PRAISE. —Here is some one who, you per-
ceive, wishes to praise you: you bite your lips
and brace up your heart: Oh, that that cup
might go hence! But it does not, it comes !
let us therefore drink the sweet impudence of the
panegyrist, let us overcome the disgust and pro-
found contempt that we feel for the innermost
substance of his praise, let us assume a look of
thankful joy-for he wished to make himself agree-
able to us! And now that it is all over we know
## p. 255 (#337) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY.
255
that he feels greatly exalted; he has been victorious
over us. Yes, and also over himself, the villain ! -
for it was no easy matter for him to wring this
praise from himself.
274.
THE RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES OF MAN. -We
human beings are the only creatures who, when
things do not go well with us, can blot ourselves
out like a clumsy sentence,—whether we do so out
of honour for humanity or pity for it, or on account
of the aversion we feel towards ourselves.
275.
THE TRANSFORMED BEING. –Now he becomes
virtuous; but only for the sake of hurting others
by being so. Don't pay so much attention to him.
276.
How OFTEN! How UNEXPECTED ! —How may
married men have some morning awakened to the
fact that their young wife is dull, although she
thinks quite the contrary! not to speak of those
wives whose flesh is willing but whose intellect
is weak!
277.
WARM AND COLD VIRTUES. — Courage is some-
times the consequence of cold and unshaken reso-
lution, and at other times of a fiery and reckless
élan. For these two kinds of courage there is only
the one name ! —but how different, nevertheless,
## p. 256 (#338) ############################################
256 THE DAWN OF DAY.
are cold virtues and warm virtues! and the man
would be a fool who could suppose that " good-
ness" could only be brought about by warmth,
and no less a fool he who would only attribute it
to cold. The truth is that mankind has found
both warm and cold courage very useful, yet not
often enough to prevent it from setting them both
in the category of precious stones.
'278.
The GRACIOUS Memory. —A man of high rank
will do well to develop a gracious memory, that
is, to note all the good qualities of people and re-
member them particularly; for in this way he holds
them in an agreeable dependence. A man may also
act in this way towards himself: whether or not he
has a gracious memory determines in the end the
superiority, gentleness, or distrust with which he ob-
serves his own inclinations and intentions,andfinally
even the nature of these inclinations and intentions.
279.
Wherein we become Artists. — He who
makes an idol of some one endeavours to justify
himself in his own eyes by idealising this person:
in other words, he becomes an artist that he may
have a clear conscience. When he suffers he does
not suffer from his ignorance, but from the lie he
has told himself to make himself ignorant. The
inmost misery and desire of such a man—and all
passionate lovers are included in this category—
cannot be exhausted by normal means.
## p. 257 (#339) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 257
280.
CHILDLIKE. — Those who live like children—
those who have not to struggle for their daily
bread, and do not think that their actions have
any ultimate signification—remain childlike.
281.
Our Ego desires Everything. — It would
seem as if men in general were only inspired by the
desire to possess: languages at least would permit
of this supposition, for they view past actions from
the standpoint that we have been put in possession
of something — "I have spoken, struggled, con-
quered "—as if to say, I am now in possession of
my word, my struggle, my victory. How greedy
man appears in this light! he cannot even let the
past escape him: he even wishes to have it still!
282.
Danger in Beauty. —This woman is beautiful
and intelligent: alas, how much more intelligent she
would have become if she had not been beautiful!
283.
Domestic and Mental Peace. —Our habitual
mood depends upon the mood in which we maintain
our habitual entourage.
284.
New Things as Old Ones. —Many people
seem irritated when something new is told them:
R
## p. 258 (#340) ############################################
/
/
. ■
2J8 THE DAWN OF DAY.
they feel the ascendancy which the news has given
to the person who has learnt it first.
285.
What are the Limits of the Ego. —The
majority of people take under their protection, as
it were, something that they know, as if the fact
of knowing it was sufficient in itself to make it
their property. The acquisitiveness of the egoistic
feeling has no limits: Great men speak as if they
had behind them the whole of time, and had
placed themselves at the head of this enormous
host; and good women boast of the beauty of their
children, their clothes, their dog, their physician,
or their native town, but the only thing they dare
not say is, " I am all that. " Chi non ha non e—
as they say in Italy.
286.
Domestic Animals, Pets and the Like. —
Could there be anything more repugnant than the
sentimentality which is shown to plants and animals
—and this on the part of a creature who from the
very beginning has made such ravages among
them as their most ferocious enemy,—and who
ends by even claiming affectionate feelings from his
weakened and mutilated victims! Before this kind
of " nature" man must above all be serious, if he
is any sort of a thinking being.
287.
Two FRIENDS. —They were friends once, but
now they have ceased to be so, and both of them
## p. 259 (#341) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 259
broke off the friendship at the same time, the one
because he believed himself to be too greatly mis-
understood, and the other because he thought he
was known too intimately—and both were wrong!
For neither of them knew himself well enough.
288.
The Comedy of the Noble Souls. —Those
whocannot succeed in exhibiting a noble and cordial
familiarity endeavour to let the nobleness of their
nature be seen by their exercise of reserve and
strictness, and a certain contempt for familiarity,
as if their strong sense of confidence were ashamed
to show itsell.
289.
Where we may say Nothing against
Virtue. —Among cowards it is thought bad form
to say anything against bravery, for any expression
of this kind would give rise to some contempt;
and unfeeling people are irritated when anything
is said against pity. *
290.
A Waste. —We find that with irritable and
abrupt people their first words and actions generally
afford no indication of their actual character—they
are prompted by circumstances, and are to some
* The fiercest protests against Nietzsche's teaching even
now come from the " unfeeling people. " Hence the difficulty
—now happily past—of introducing him into Anglo-Saxon
countries. —Tr.
## p. 260 (#342) ############################################
260 THE DAWN OF DAY.
extent simply reproductions of the spirit of these
circumstances. Because, however, as the words
have been uttered and the deeds done,the subsequent
words and deeds, indicating the real nature of such
people, have often to be used to reconcile, amend,
or extinguish the former.
291.
ARROGANCE. —Arrogance is an artificial and
simulated pride; but it is precisely the essential
nature of pride to be incapable of artifice, simu-
lation, or hypocrisy—and thus arrogance is the
hypocrisy of the incapacity for hypocrisy, a very
difficult thing, and one which is a failure in most
cases. But if we suppose that, as most frequently
happens, the presumptuous person betrays himself,
then a treble annoyance falls to his lot: people
are angry with him because he has endeavoured to
deceive them, and because he wished to show himself
superior to them, and finally they laugh at him
because he failed in both these endeavours. How
earnestly, therefore, should we dissuade our fellow-
men from arrogance!
292.
A Species of Misconception. —When we hear
somebody speak it is often sufficient for his pro-
nunciation of a single consonant (the letter r, for
example) to fill us with doubts as to the honesty
of his feelings: we are not accustomed to this
particular pronunciation, and should have to make
it ourselves as it were arbitrarily—it sounds "forced"
## p. 261 (#343) ############################################
THE DAWN OF DAY. 26i
to us. This is the domain of the greatest possible
misconception: and it is the same with the style
of a writer who has certain habits which are not the
habits of everybody. His "artlessness" is felt as
such only by himself, and precisely in regard to that
which he himself feels to be " forced " (because he
has yielded in this matter to the prevailing fashion
and to so called "good taste"), he may perhaps
give pleasure and inspire confidence.
293-
Thankful. —One superfluous grain of gratitude
and piety makes one suffer as from a vice—in
spite of all one's independence and honesty one
begins to have a bad conscience.
294.
Saints. —It is the most sensual men who find
it necessary to avoid women and to torture their
bodies.
295.
The Subtlety of Serving. —One of the most
subtle tasks in the great art of serving is that of
serving a more than usually ambitious man, who,
indeed, is excessively egoistic in all things, but is
entirely adverse to being thought so (this is part
of his ambition). He requires that everything shall
be according to his own will and humour, yet in
such a way as to give him the appearance of always
having sacrificed himself, and of rarely desiring
anything for himself alone.
## p.
