No More Learning

We look into the ages before him as into a sculptor's
workshop of such types. The fifth and sixth
centuries B. C. seemed to promise something more
vol. 1. Q


## p. 241 (#350) ############################################

240 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
themselves and their " truth," and with it they over-
threw all their neighbours and predecessors; each
one was a warlike, violent tyrant. The happiness in
believing themselves the possessors of truth was per-
haps never greater in the world, but neither were the
hardness, the arrogance, and the tyranny and evil
of such a belief. They were tyrants, they were
that, therefore, which every Greek wanted to be,
and which every one was if he was able. Perhaps
Solon alone is an exception; he tells in his poems
how he disdained personal tyranny. But he did
it for love of his works, of his law-giving; and
to be a law-giver is a sublimated form of tyranny.
Parmenides also made laws. Pythagoras and
Empedocles probably did the same; Anaximander
founded a city. Plato was the incarnate wish to
become the greatest philosophic law-giver and
founder of States; he appears to have suffered
terribly over the non-fulfilment of his nature, and
towards his end his soul was filled with the bitterest
gall. The more the Greek philosophers lost in
power the more they suffered inwardly from this
bitterness and malice; when the various sects fought
for their truths in the street, then first were the
souls of these wooers of truth completely clogged
through envy and spleen; the tyrannical element
then raged like poison within their bodies. These
many petty tyrants would have liked to devour
each other; there survived not a single spark of love
and very little joy in their own knowledge. The
saying that tyrants are generally murdered and that
their descendants are short-lived, is true also of the
tyrants of the mind. Their history is short and


## p. 241 (#351) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 24I
violent, and their after-effects break off suddenly.
It may be said of almost all great Hellenes that
they appear to have come too late: it was thus
with ^ischylus, with Pindar, with Demosthenes, with
Thucydides: one generation—and then it is passed
for ever. That is the stormy and dismal element
in Greek history. We now, it is true, admire the
gospel of the tortoises. To think historically is
almost the same thing now as if in all ages history
had been made according to the theory "The
smallest possible amount in the longest possible
time! " Oh! how quickly Greek history runs on!
Since then life has never been so extravagant—. so
unbounded. I cannot persuade myself that the
history of the Greeks followed that natural course
for which it is so celebrated. They were much too
variously gifted to be. gradual in the orderly man-
ner of the tortoise when running a race with Achilles,
and that is called natural development. The
Greeks went rapidly forward, but equally rapidly
downwards; the movement of the whole machine
is so intensified that a single stone thrown amid
its wheels was sufficient to break it. Such a stone,
for instance, was Socrates; the hitherto so wonder-
fully regular, although certainly too rapid, develop-
ment of the philosophical science was destroyed in
one night. It is no idle question whether Plato,
had he remained free from the Socratic charm,
would not have discovered a still higher type of the
philosophic man, which type is for ever lost to us.
We look into the ages before him as into a sculptor's
workshop of such types. The fifth and sixth
centuries B. C. seemed to promise something more
vOl. 1. Q


## p. 242 (#352) ############################################

242 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and higher even than they produced ; they s
short at promising and announcing. Ai
there is hardly a greater loss than the loss of i
of a new, hitherto undiscovered highest /V. o
of the philosophic life. Even of the older tyr.
greater number are badly transmitted; it sect
me that all philosophers, from Thales to Dcmoci
are remarkably difficult to recognise, but who
succeeds in imitating these figures walks amoi
specimens of the mightiest and purest type. 1
ability is certainly rare, it was even absent
those later Greeks, who occupied themselves w ,
the knowledge of the older philosophy; Aristot:
especially, hardly seems to have had eyes in h a
head when he stands before these great ones. An i
thus it appears as if these splendid philosophers
had lived in vain, or as if they had only been in-
tended to prepare the quarrelsome and talkative
followers of the Socratic schools. As I have
said, here is a gap, a break in development; some
great misfortune must have happened, and the only
statue which might have revealed the meaning and
purpose of that great artistic training was either
broken or unsuccessful; what actually happened
has remained for ever a secret of the workshop.
That which happened amongst the Greeks—
namely, that every great thinker who believed him-
self to be in possession of the absolute truth
became a tyrant, so that even the mental history of
the Greeks acquired that violent, hasty and danger-
ous character shown by their political history,—this
type of event was not therewith exhausted, much
that is similar has happened even in more modern


## p. 243 (#353) ############################################

HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 243
<ugh gradually becoming rarer and now
1 showing the pure, naive conscience of
_ philosophers. For on the whole, oppo-
^" ;£Qnnar 'Ctrines and scepticism now speak too
ttit -at ly, too loudly. The period of mental
ilC -tt>5 is past. It is true that in the spheres of
^^7^7" culture there must always be a supremacy,
"7Ttt it iceforth this supremacy lies in the hands of
*os-: garchs of the mind. In spite of local and
^ccniE. - -al separation they form a cohesive society,
^mjc- » members recognise and acknowledge each
cnzci's: :, whatever public opinion and the verdicts of
Ta- jw and newspaper writers who influence the
ar: ~- ses may circulate in favour of or against them.
trit ntal superiority, which formerly divided and
-\v. 2i bittered, nowadays generally unites; how could
- in? e separate individuals assert themselves and swim
-;o: trough life on their own course, against all currents,
»> r they did not see others like them living here and
;. . - . here under similar conditions, and grasped their
b hands,in the struggle as much against the ochlocratic
character of the half mind and half culture as
against the occasional attempts to establish a
tyranny with the help of the masses? Oligarchs
are necessary to each other, they are each other's
best joy, they understand their signs, but each is
nevertheless free, he fights and conquers in his
place and perishes rather than submit.
262.
Homer. —The greatest fact in Greek culture
remains this, that Homer became so early Pan-


## p. 243 (#354) ############################################


242
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and higher even than they produced ; they stopped
short at promising and announcing. And yet
there is hardly a greater loss than the loss of a type,
of a new, hitherto undiscovered highest possibility
of the philosophic life. Even of the older type the
greater number are badly transmitted; it seems to
me that all philosophers, from Thales to Democritus,
are remarkably difficult to recognise, but whoever
succeeds in imitating these figures walks amongst
specimens of the mightiest and purest type. This
ability is certainly rare, it was even absent in
those later Greeks, who occupied themselves with
the knowledge of the older philosophy; Aristotle,
especially, hardly seems to have had eyes in his
head when he stands before these great ones. And
thus it appears as if these splendid philosophers
had lived in vain, or as if they had only been in-
tended to prepare the quarrelsome and talkative
followers of the Socratic schools. As I have
said, here is a gap, a break in development; some
great misfortune must have happened, and the only
statue which might have revealed the meaning and
purpose of that great artistic training was either
broken or unsuccessful; what actually happened
has remained for ever a secret of the workshop.
That which happened amongst the Greeks—
namely, that every great thinker who believed him-
self to be in possession of the absolute truth
became a tyrant, so that even the mental history of
the Greeks acquired that violent, hasty and danger-
ous character shown by their political history,—this
type of event was not therewith exhausted, much
that is similar has happened even in more modern
>
i
I
over-
each
fcssin
JPer-
-ethe
I evil
Were
> be,
haps
>ems
did
and
any.
and
ider
i to
and
red
ind
•est
in
his
rht
ed
nt
se
ur
le
it
e
a


## p. 243 (#355) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 243
>
times, although gradually becoming rarer and now
but seldom showing the pure, naive conscience of
the Greek philosophers. For on the whole, oppo-
sition doctrines and scepticism now speak too
powerfully, too loudly. The period of mental
tyranny is past. It is true that in the spheres of
higher culture there must always be a supremacy,
but henceforth this supremacy lies in the hands of
the oligarchs of the mind. In spite of local and
political separation they form a cohesive society,
whose members recognise and acknowledge each
other, whatever public opinion and the verdicts of
review and newspaper writers who influence the
masses may circulate in favour of or against them.
Mental superiority, which formerly divided and
embittered, nowadays generally unites; how could
the separate individuals assert themselves and swim
through life on their own course, against all currents,
if they did not see others like them living here and
there under similar conditions, and grasped their
hands. in thestruggle as much against the ochlocratic
character of the half mind and half culture as
against the occasional attempts to establish a
tyranny with the help of the masses? Oligarchs
are necessary to each other, they are each other's
best joy, they understand their signs, but each is
nevertheless free, he fights and conquers in his
place and perishes rather than submit.
262.
Homer. —The greatest fact in Greek culture
remains this, that Homer became so early Pan-


## p. 244 (#356) ############################################


244
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Hellenic. All mental and human freedom to
which the Greeks attained is traceable to this
fact. At the same time it has actually been fatal
to Greek culture, for Homer levelled, inasmuch as
he centralised, and dissolved the more serious
instincts of independence. From time to time
there arose from the depths of Hellenism an
opposition to Homer; but he always remained
victorious. All great mental powers have an
oppressing effect as well as a liberating one; but
it certainly makes a difference whether it is Homer
or the Bible or Science that tyrannises over
mankind.
263.
Talents. — In such a highly developed
humanity as the present, each individual naturally
has access to many talents. Each has an inborn
talent, but only in a few is that degree of tough-
ness, endurance, and energy born and trained that
he really becomes a talent, becomes what he is,—
that is, that he discharges it in works and actions.
264.
The Witty Person either Overvalued
or Undervalued. —Unscientific but talented
people value every mark of intelligence, whether
it be on a true or a false track; above all, they
want the person with whom they have inter-
course to entertain them with his wit, to spur
them on, to inflame them, to carry them away in
seriousness and play, and in any case to be a


## p. 245 (#357) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 245
powerful amulet to protect them against boredom.
Scientific natures, on the other hand, know that
the gift of possessing all manner of notions should
be strictly controlled by the scientific spirit: it is
not that which shines, deludes and excites, but
the often insignificant truth that is the fruit which
he knows how to shake down from the tree of
knowledge. Like Aristotle, he is not permitted
to make any distinction between the " bores" and
the " wits," his dcemon leads him through the desert
as well as through tropical vegetation, in order
that he may only take pleasure in the really
actual, tangible, true. In insignificant scholars
this produces a general disdain and suspicion of
cleverness, and, on the other hand, clever people
frequently have an aversion to science, as have,
for instance, almost all artists.
265.
SENSE in SCHOOL. —School has no task more
important than to teach strict thought, cautious
judgment, and logical conclusions, hence it must
pay no attention to what hinders these operations,
such as religion, for instance. It can count on the
fact that human vagueness, custom, and need will
later on unstring the bow of all-too-severe thought.
But so long as its influence lasts it should enforce
that which is the essential and distinguishing point
in man: "Sense and Science, the very highest
power of man "—as Goethe judges. The great
natural philosopher, Von Baer, thinks that the
superiority of all Europeans, when compared to


## p. 246 (#358) ############################################


246 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Asiatics, lies in the trained capability of giving
reasons for that which they believe, of which the
latter are utterly incapable. Europe went to the
school of logical and critical thought, Asia still
fails to know how to distinguish between truth and
fiction, and is not conscious whether its convictions
spring from individual observation and systematic
thought or from imagination. Sense in the school
has made Europe what it is; in the Middle Ages
it was on the road to become once more a part
and dependent of Asia,—forfeiting, therefore, the
scientific mind which it owed to the Greeks.
266.
The Undervalued Effect of Public-
School Teaching. —The value of a public
school is seldom sought in those things which are
really learnt there and are carried away never to
be lost, but in those things which are learnt and
which the pupil only acquires against his will, in
order to get rid of them again as soon as possible.
Every educated person acknowledges that the
reading of the classics, as now practised, is a
monstrous proceeding carried on before young
people are ripe enough for it by teachers who
with every word, often by their appearance alone,
throw a mildew on a good author. But therein
lies the value, generally unrecognised, of these
teachers who speak the abstract language of the
higher culture, which, though dry and difficult to
understand, is yet a sort of higher gymnastics of the
brain; and there is value in the constant recurrence


## p. 247 (#359) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 247
in their language of ideas, artistic expressions,
methods and allusions which the young people
hardly ever hear in the conversations of their
relatives and in the street. Even if the pupils
only hear, their intellect is involuntarily trained
to a scientific mode of regarding things. It is
not possible to emerge from this discipline entirely
untouched by its abstract character, and to remain
a simple child of nature.
267.
Learning many Languages. —The learning
of many languages fills the memory with words
instead of with facts and thoughts, and this is a
vessel which, with every person, can only contain
a certain limited amount of contents. Therefore
the learning of many languages is injurious, inas-
much as it arouses a belief in possessing dexterity
and, as a matter of fact, it lends a kind of delusive
importance to social intercourse. It is also indirectly
injurious in that it opposes the acquirement of
solid knowledge and the intention to win the
respect of men in an honest way. Finally, it is
the axe which is laid to the root of a delicate
sense of language in our mother-tongue, which
thereby is incurably injured and destroyed. The
two nations which produced the greatest stylists,
the Greeks and the French, learned no foreign
languages. But as human intercourse must always
grow more cosmopolitan, and as, for instance, a
good merchant in London must now be able to
read and write eight languages, the learning of


## p. 247 (#360) ############################################

246 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Asiatics, lies in the trained capability of giving
reasons for that which they believe, of which the
latter are utterly incapable. Europe went to the
school of logical and critical thought, Asia still
fails to know how to distinguish between truth and
fiction, and is not conscious whether its convictions
spring from individual observation and systematic
thought or from imagination. Sense in the school
has made Europe what it is; in the Middle Ages
it was on the road to become once more a part
and dependent of Asia,—forfeiting, therefore, the
scientific mind which it owed to the Greeks.
266.
The Undervalued Effect of Public-
School Teaching. —The value of a public
school is seldom sought in those things which are
really learnt there and are carried away never to
be lost, but in those things which are learnt and
which the pupil only acquires against his will, in
order to get rid of them again as soon as possible.
Every educated person acknowledges that the
reading of the classics, as now practised, is a
monstrous proceeding carried on before young
people are ripe enough for it by teachers who
with every word, often by their appearance alone,
throw a mildew on a good author. But therein
lies the value, generally unrecognised, of these
teachers who speak the abstract language of the
higher culture, which, though dry and difficult to
understand, is yet a sort of higher gymnastics of the
brain; and there is value in the constant recurrence
-^


## p. 247 (#361) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 247
in their language of ideas, artistic expressions,
methods and allusions which the young people
hardly ever hear in the conversations of their
relatives and in the street. Even if the pupils
only hear, their intellect is involuntarily trained
to a scientific mode of regarding things. It is
not possible to emerge from this discipline entirely
untouched by its abstract character, and to remain
a simple child of nature.
267.
Learning many Languages. —The learning
of many languages fills the memory with words
instead of with facts and thoughts, and this is a
vessel which, with every person, can only contain
a certain limited amount of contents. Therefore
the learning of many languages is injurious, inas-
much as it arouses a belief in possessing dexterity
and, as a matter of fact, it lends a kind of delusive
importance to social intercourse. It is also indirectly
injurious in that it opposes the acquirement of
solid knowledge and the intention to win the
respect of men in an honest way. Finally, it is
the axe which is laid to the root of a delicate
sense of language in our mother-tongue, which
thereby is incurably injured and destroyed. The
two nations which produced the greatest stylists,
the Greeks and the French, learned no foreign
languages. But as human intercourse must always
grow more cosmopolitan, and as, for instance, a
good merchant in London must now be able to
read and write eight languages, the learning of


## p. 247 (#362) ############################################

246 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Asiatics, lies in the trained capability of giving
reasons for that which they believe, of which the
latter are utterly incapable. Europe went to the
school of logical and critical thought, Asia still
fails to know how to distinguish between truth and
fiction, and is not conscious whether its convictions
spring from individual observation and systematic
thought or from imagination. Sense in the school
has made Europe what it is; in the Middle Ages
it was on the road to become once more a part
and dependent of Asia,—forfeiting, therefore, the
scientific mind which it owed to the Greeks.
266.
The Undervalued Effect of Public-
School Teaching. —The value of a public
school is seldom sought in those things which are
really learnt there and are carried away never to
be lost, but in those things which are learnt and
which the pupil only acquires against his will, in
order to get rid of them again as soon as possible.
Every educated person acknowledges that the
reading of the classics, as now practised, is a
monstrous proceeding carried on before young
people are ripe enough for it by teachers who
with every word, often by their appearance alone,
throw a mildew on a good author. But therein
lies the value, generally unrecognised, of these
teachers who speak the abstract language of the
higJier culture, which, though dry and difficult to
understand, is yet a sort of higher gymnastics of the
brain; and there is value in the constant recurrence


## p. 247 (#363) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 247
in their language of ideas, artistic expressions,
methods and allusions which the young people
hardly ever hear in the conversations of their
relatives and in the street. Even if the pupils
only hear, their intellect is involuntarily trained
to a scientific mode of regarding things. It is
not possible to emerge from this discipline entirely
untouched by its abstract character, and to remain
a simple child of nature.
267.
Learning many Languages. —The learning
of many languages fills the memory with words
instead of with facts and thoughts, and this is a
vessel which, with every person, can only contain
a certain limited amount of contents. Therefore
the learning of many languages is injurious, inas-
much as it arouses a belief in possessing dexterity
and, as a matter of fact, it lends a kind of delusive
importance to social intercourse. It is also indirectly
injurious in that it opposes the acquirement of
solid knowledge and the intention to win the
respect of men in an honest way. Finally, it is
the axe which is laid to the root of a delicate
sense of language in our mother-tongue, which
thereby is incurably injured and destroyed. The
two nations which produced the greatest stylists,
the Greeks and the French, learned no foreign
languages. But as human intercourse must always
grow more cosmopolitan, and as, for instance, a
good merchant in London must now be able to
read and write eight languages, the learning of


## p. 247 (#364) ############################################

246 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Asiatics, lies in the trained capability of giving
reasons for that which they believe, of which the
latter are utterly incapable. Europe went to the
school of logical and critical thought, Asia still
fails to know how to distinguish between truth and
fiction, and is not conscious whether its convictions
spring from individual observation and systematic
thought or from imagination. Sense in the school
has made Europe what it is; in the Middle Ages
it was on the road to become once more a part
and dependent of Asia,—forfeiting, therefore, the
scientific mind which it owed to the Greeks.
266.
The Undervalued Effect of Public-
School Teaching. —The value of a public
school is seldom sought in those things which are
really learnt there and are carried away never to
be lost, but in those things which are learnt and
which the pupil only acquires against his will, in
order to get rid of them again as soon as possible.
Every educated person acknowledges that the
reading of the classics, as now practised, is a
monstrous proceeding carried on before young
people are ripe enough for it by teachers who
with every word, often by their appearance alone,
throw a mildew on a good author. But therein
lies the value, generally unrecognised, of these
teachers who speak the abstract language of the
higher culture, which, though dry and difficult to
understand, is yet a sort of higher gymnastics of the
brain; and there is value in the constant recurrence
^


## p. 247 (#365) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 247
in their language of ideas, artistic expressions,
methods and allusions which the young people
hardly ever hear in the conversations of their
relatives and in the street. Even if the pupils
only hear, their intellect is involuntarily trained
to a scientific mode of regarding things. It is
not possible to emerge from this discipline entirely
untouched by its abstract character, and to remain
a simple child of nature.
267.
Learning many Languages. —The learning
of many languages fills the memory with words
instead of with facts and thoughts, and this is a
vessel which, with every person, can only contain
a certain limited amount of contents. Therefore
the learning of many languages is injurious, inas-
much as it arouses a belief in possessing dexterity
and, as a matter of fact, it lends a kind of delusive
importance to social intercourse. It is also indirectly
injurious in that it opposes the acquirement of
solid knowledge and the intention to win the
respect of men in an honest way. Finally, it is
the axe which is laid to the root of a delicate
sense of language in our mother-tongue, which
thereby is incurably injured and destroyed. The
two nations which produced the greatest stylists,
the Greeks and the French, learned no foreign
languages. But as human intercourse must always
grow more cosmopolitan, and as, for instance, a
good merchant in London must now be able to
read and write eight languages, the learning of


## p. 247 (#366) ############################################

246 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Asiatics, lies in the trained capability of giving
reasons for that which they believe, of which the
latter are utterly incapable. Europe went to the
school of logical and critical thought, Asia still
fails to know how to distinguish between truth and
fiction, and is not conscious whether its convictions
spring from individual observation and systematic
thought or from imagination.
Sense in the school
has made Europe what it is; in the Middle Ages
it was on the road to become once more a part
and dependent of Asia,—forfeiting, therefore, the
scientific mind which it owed to the Greeks.
266.
The Undervalued Effect of Public-
School Teaching. —The value of a public
school is seldom sought in those things which are
really learnt there and are carried away never to
be lost, but in those things which are learnt and
which the pupil only acquires against his will, in
order to get rid of them again as soon as possible.
Every educated person acknowledges that the
reading of the classics, as now practised, is a
monstrous proceeding carried on before young
people are ripe enough for it by teachers who
with every word, often by their appearance alone,
throw a mildew on a good author. But therein
lies the value, generally unrecognised, of these
teachers who speak the abstract language of the
higher culture, which, though dry and difficult to
understand, is yet a sort of higher gymnastics of the
brain; and there is value in the constant recurrence


## p. 247 (#367) ############################################

SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 247
in their language of ideas, artistic expressions,
methods and allusions which the young people
hardly ever hear in the conversations of their
relatives and in the street. Even if the pupils
only hear, their intellect is involuntarily trained
to a scientific mode of regarding things. It is
not possible to emerge from this discipline entirely
untouched by its abstract character, and to remain
a simple child of nature.
267.
Learning many Languages. —The learning
of many languages fills the memory with words
instead of with facts and thoughts, and this is a
vessel which, with every person, can only contain
a certain limited amount of contents. Therefore
the learning of many languages is injurious, inas-
much as it arouses a belief in possessing dexterity
and, as a matter of fact, it lends a kind of delusive
importance to social intercourse. It is also indirectly
injurious in that it opposes the acquirement of
solid knowledge and the intention to win the
respect of men in an honest way. Finally, it is
the axe which is laid to the root of a delicate
sense of language in our mother-tongue, which
thereby is incurably injured and destroyed. The
two nations which produced the greatest stylists,
the Greeks and the French, learned no foreign
languages. But as human intercourse must always
grow more cosmopolitan, and as, for instance, a
good merchant in London must now be able to
read and write eight languages, the learning of


## p. 248 (#368) ############################################


248
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
many tongues has certainly become a necessary
evil; but which, when finally carried to an
extreme, will compel mankind to find a remedy,
and in some far-off future there will be a new
language, used at first as a language of commerce,
then as a language of intellectual intercourse
generally, then for all, as surely as some time
or other there will be aviation. Why else should
philology have studied the laws of languages for
a whole century, and have estimated the necessary,
the valuable, and the successful portion of each
separate language?
268.
The War History of the Individual. —
In a single human life that passes through many
styles of culture we find that struggle condensed
which would otherwise have been played out
between two generations, between father and son;
the closeness of the relationship sharpens this
struggle, because each party ruthlessly drags in
the familiar inward nature of the other party; and
thus this struggle in the single individual becomes
most embittered; here every new phase disregards
the earlier ones with cruel injustice and mis-
understanding of their means and aims.
269.
A Quarter of an Hour Earlier. —A man
is found occasionally whose views are beyond his
time, but only to such an extent that he anticipates
the common views of the next decade. He
^


## p. 249 (#369) ############################################

[SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 249
possesses public opinion before it is public; that
is? he has fallen into the arms of a view that
deserves to be trivial a quarter of an hour sooner
than other people. But his fame is usually far
noisier than the fame of those who are really
great and prominent.
. '
270.
The Art of Reading. —Every strong ten-
dency is one-sided; it approaches the aim of the
straight line and, like this, is exclusive, that is, it
does not touch many other aims, as do weak
parties and natures in their wave-like rolling to-
and-fro; it must also be forgiven to philologists
that they are one-sided. The restoration and
keeping pure of texts, besides their explana-
tion, carried on in common for hundreds of
years, has finally enabled the right methods
to be found; the whole of the Middle Ages was
absolutely incapable of a strictly philological
explanation, that is, of the simple desire to com-
prehend what an author says—it was an achieve-
ment, finding these methods, let it not be under-
valued! Through this all science first acquired
continuity and steadiness, so that the art of
reading rightly, which is called philology, attained
its summit.
271. \
The Art of Reasoning. —The greatest
advance that men have made lies in their


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2SO HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
acquisition of the art to reason rightly. It 1 is
not so very natural, as Schopenhauer supposes
when he says, "All are capable of reasoning,
but few of judging," it is learnt late and has
not yet attained supremacy. False conclusions
are the rule in older ages; and the mythologies
of all peoples, their magic and their superstition,
their religious cult and their law are the inex-
haustible sources of proof of this theory.
272.
Phases of Individual Culture. — The
strength and weakness of mental productiveness
depend far less on inherited talents than on the
accompanying amount of elasticity. Most edu-
cated young people of thirty turn round at this
solstice of their lives and are afterwards dis-
inclined for new mental turnings. Therefore,
for the salvation of a constantly increasing culture,
a new generation is immediately necessary, which
will not do very much either, for in order to
come up with the father's culture the son must
exhaust almost all the inherited energy which
the father himself possessed at that stage of
life when his son was born; with the little
addition he gets further on (for as here the
road is being traversed for the second time
progress is a little quicker; in order to learn
that which the father knew, the son does not
consume quite so much strength). Men of great
elasticity, like Goethe, for instance, get through


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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 251
almost more than four generations in succession
would be capable of; but then they advance
too quickly, so that the rest of mankind only
comes up with them in the next century, and
even then perhaps not completely, because the
exclusiveness of culture and the consecutiveness
of development have been weakened by the
frequent interruptions. Men catch up more
quickly with the ordinary phases of intellectual
culture which has been acquired in the course
of history. Nowadays they begin to acquire
culture as religiously inclined children, and
perhaps about their tenth year these sentiments
attain to their highest point, and are then
changed into weakened forms (pantheism), whilst
they draw near to science; they entirely pass by
God, immortality, and such-like things, but are
overcome by the witchcraft of a metaphysical
philosophy. Eventually they find even this un-
worthy of belief; art, on the contrary, seems
to vouchsafe more and more, so that for a time
metaphysics is metamorphosed and continues
to exist either as a transition to art or as an
artistically transfiguring temperament. But the
scientific sense grows more imperious and con-
ducts man to natural sciences and history, and
particularly to the severest methods of knowledge,
whilst art has always a milder and less exacting
meaning. All this usually happens within the
first thirty years of a man's life. It is the re-
capitulation of a pensum, for which humanity had
laboured perhaps thirty thousand years.


## p. 252 (#372) ############################################


252 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
273-
Retrograded, not Left Behind. —Who-
ever, in the present day, still derives his develop-
ment from religious sentiments, and perhaps lives
for some length of time afterwards in metaphysics
and art, has assuredly gone back a considerable
distance and begins his race with other modern
men under unfavourable conditions; he apparently
loses time and space. But because he stays in
those domains where ardour and energy are
liberated and force flows continuously as a volcanic
stream out of an inexhaustible source, he goes
forward all the more quickly as soon as he has
freed himself at the right moment from those
dominators; his feet are winged, his breast has
learned quieter, longer, and more enduring
breathing. He has only retreated in order to
have sufficient room to leap; thus something
terrible and threatening may lie in this retrograde
movement.
274.
A Portion of our Ego as an Artistic
Object. —It is a sign of superior culture
consciously to retain and present a true picture
of certain phases of development which commoner
men live through almost thoughtlessly and then
efface from the tablets of their souls: this is a
higher species of the painter's art which only the
few understand. For this it is necessary to
isolate those phases artificially. Historical studies
form the qualification for this painting, for they


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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 253
constantly incite us in regard to a portion of
history, a people, or a human life, to imagine
for ourselves a quite distinct horizon of thoughts,
a certain strength of feelings, the prominence of
this or the obscurity of that. Herein consists
the historic sense, that out of given instances
we can quickly reconstruct such systems of
thoughts and feelings, just as we can mentally
reconstruct a temple out of a few pillars and
remains of walls accidentally left standing. The
next result is that we understand our fellow-
men as belonging to distinct systems and re-
presentatives of different cultures—that is, as
necessary, but as changeable; and, again, that
we can separate portions of our own development
and put them down independently.
275-
Cynics and Epicureans. —The cynic re-
cognises the connection between the multiplied
and stronger pains of the more highly cultivated
man and the abundance of requirements; he
comprehends, therefore, that the multitude of
opinions about what is beautiful, suitable, seemly
and pleasing, must also produce very rich
sources of enjoyment, but also of displeasure.
In accordance with this view he educates himself
backwards, by giving up many of these opinions
and withdrawing from certain demands of culture;
he thereby gains a feeling of freedom and strength;
and gradually, when habit has made his manner
of life endurable, his sensations of displeasure
l


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254 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
are, as a matter of fact, rarer and weaker than
those of cultivated people, and approach those
of the domestic animal; moreover, he experiences
everything with the charm of contrast, and—he
can also scold to his heart's content; so that
thereby he again rises high above the sensation-
range of the animal. The Epicurean has the
same point of view as the cynic; there is usually
only a difference of temperament between them.
Then the Epicurean makes use of his higher
culture to render himself independent of prevailing
opinions, he raises himself above them, whilst
the cynic only remains negative. He walks,
as it were, in wind-protected, well-sheltered, half-
dark paths, whilst over him, in the wind, the tops
of the trees rustle and show him how violently
agitated is the world out there. The cynic, on
the contrary, goes, as it were, naked into the
rushing of the wind and hardens himself to the
point of insensibility.
276.
Microcosm and Macrocosm of Culture.
—The best discoveries about culture man makes
within himself when he finds two heterogeneous
powers ruling therein. Supposing some one were
living as much in love for the plastic arts or for
music as he was carried away by the spirit of
science, and that he were to regard it as impos-
sible for him to end this contradiction by the
destruction of one and complete liberation of the
other power, there would therefore remain nothing


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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 255
for him to do but to erect around himself such
a large edifice of culture that those two powers
might both dwell within it, although at different
ends, whilst between them there dwelt reconciling,
intermediary powers, with predominant strength to
quell, in case of need, the rising conflict. But
such an edifice of culture in the single individual
will bear a great resemblance to the culture
of entire periods, and will afford consecutive
analogical teaching concerning it. For wher-
ever the great architecture of culture manifested
itself it was its mission to compel opposing powers
to agree, by means of an overwhelming accumu-
lation of other less unbearable powers, without
thereby oppressing and fettering them.
277.
Happiness and Culture. —We are moved
at the sight of our childhood's surroundings,—the
arbour, the church with its graves, the pond and
the wood,—all this we see again with pain.
We are seized with pity for ourselves; for what
have we not passed through since then! And
everything here is so silent, so eternal, only we
are so changed, so moved; we even find a few
human beings, on whom Time has sharpened his
teeth no more than on an oak tree,—peasants,
fishermen, woodmen — they are unchanged.
Emotion and self-pity at the sight of lower
culture is the sign of higher culture; from which
the conclusion may be drawn that happiness has
certainly not been increased by it. Whoever


## p. 256 (#376) ############################################

256 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
wishes to reap happiness and comfort in life
should always avoid higher culture.
278.
The Simile of the Dance. —It must now
be regarded as a decisive sign of great culture if
some one possesses sufficient strength and flexi-
bility to be as pure and strict in discernment as,
in other moments, to be capable of giving poetry,
religion, and metaphysics a hundred paces' start
and then feeling their force and beauty. Such a
position amid two such different demands is very
difficult, for science urges the absolute supremacy
of its methods, and if this insistence is not yielded
to, there arises the other danger of a weak waver-
ing between different impulses. Meanwhile, to
cast a glance, in simile at least, on a solution of
this difficulty, it may be remembered that dancing
is not the same as a dull reeling to and fro
between different impulses. High culture will
resemble a bold dance,—wherefore, as has been
said, there is need of much strength and suppleness.
279.
Of the Relieving of Life. —A primary
way of lightening life is the idealisation of all its
occurrences; and with the help of painting we
should make it quite clear to ourselves what ideal-
ising means. The painter requires that the spectator
should not observe too closely or too sharply, he
forces him back to a certain distance from whence
J- ^


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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 257
to make his observations; he is obliged to take
for granted a fixed distance of the spectator from
the picture,—he must even suppose an equally
certain amount of sharpness of eye in his
spectator; in such things he must on no account
waver. Every one, therefore, who desires to
idealise his life must not look at it too closely,
i and must always keep his gaze at a certain
distance. This was a trick that Goethe, for
instance, understood.
280.
Aggravation as Relief, and Vice Versa.
—Much that makes life more difficult in certain
grades of mankind serves to lighten it in a higher
grade, because such people have become familiar
with greater aggravations of life. The contrary
also happens; for instance, religion has a double
face, according to whether a man looks up to it
to relieve him of his burden and need, or looks
down upon it as upon fetters laid on him to
prevent him from soaring too high into the air.
281.
The Higher Culture is Necessarily
Misunderstood. —He who has strung his instru-
ment with only two strings, like the scholars
(who, besides the instinct of knowledge possess
only an acquired religious instinct), does not under-
stand people who can play upon more strings.
It lies in the nature of the higher, many-stringed
culture that it should always be falsely interpreted
by the lower; an example of this is when art
vol. 1. R


## p. 258 (#378) ############################################

i
258 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
appears as a disguised form of the religious.
People who are only religious understand even
science as a searching after the religious senti-
ment, just as deaf mutes do not know what music
is, unless it be visible movement.
282.
Lamentation. —It is, perhaps, the advantages
of our epoch that bring with them a backward
movement and an occasional undervaluing of the
vita contemplativa. But it must be acknowledged
that our time is poor in the matter of great
moralists, that Pascal, Epictetus, Seneca, and
Plutarch are now but little read, that work and
industry—formerly in the following of the great
goddess Health—sometimes appear to rage like
a disease. Because time to think and tranquillity
in thought are lacking, we no longer ponder over
different views, but content ourselves with hating
them. With the enormous acceleration of life,
mind and eye grow accustomed to a partial and
false sight and judgment, and all people are like
travellers whose only acquaintance with countries
and nations is derived from the railway. An
independent and cautious attitude of knowledge
is looked upon almost as a kind of madness; the
free spirit is brought into disrepute, chiefly
through scholars, who miss their thoroughness
and ant-like industry in his art of regarding things
and would gladly banish him into one single corner
of science, while it has the different and higher
mission of commanding the battalion rear-guard
of scientific and learned men from an isolated



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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 259
position, and showing them the ways and aims
of culture. A song of lamentation such as that
which has just been sung will probably have its
own period, and will cease of its own accord on a
forcible return of the genius of meditation.
283.
The Chief Deficiency of Active People. —
Active people are usually deficient in the higher
activity, I mean individual activity. They are
active as officials, merchants, scholars, that is as
a species, but not as quite distinct separate and
single individuals; in this respect they are idle.
. It is the misfortune of the active that their activity
is almost always a little senseless. For instance,
we must not ask the money-making banker the
reason of his restless activity, it is foolish. The
active roll as the stone rolls, according to the
stupidity of mechanics. All mankind is divided,
as it was at all times and is still, into slaves and
freemen; for whoever has not two-thirds of his
day for himself is a slave, be he otherwise what-
ever he likes, statesman, merchant, official, or
scholar.
284.
In Favour of the Idle. —As a sign that
the value of a contemplative life has decreased,
scholars now vie with active people in a sort of
hurried enjoyment, so that they appear to value
this mode of enjoying more than that which
really pertains to them, and which, as a matter of
fact, is a far greater enjoyment. Scholars are


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2<5o HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
ashamed of otium. But there is one noble thing
about idleness and idlers. If idleness is really the
beginning of all vice, it finds itself, therefore, at least
in near neighbourhood of all the virtues; the idle
man is still a better man than the active. You
do not suppose that in speaking of idleness and
idlers I am alluding to you, you sluggards?
285.
Modern Unrest. —Modern restlessness in-
creases towards the west, so that Americans look
upon the inhabitants of Europe as altogether
peace-loving and enjoying beings, whilst in reality
they swarm about like wasps and bees. This
restlessness is so great that the higher culture
cannot mature its fruits, it is as if the seasons
followed each other too quickly. For lack of rest
our civilisation is turning into a new barbarism.
At no period have the active, that is, the restless,
been of more importance. One of the necessary
corrections, therefore, which must be undertaken in
the character of humanity is to strengthen the
contemplative element on a large scale. But every
individual who is quiet and steady in heart and
head already has the right to believe that he
possesses not only a good temperament, but also
a generally useful virtue, and even fulfils a higher
mission by the preservation of this virtue.
286.
To what Extent the Active Man is
Lazy. —I believe that every one must ha^e his


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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 2D,<55
own opinion about everything concerning which \
opinions are possible, because he himself is a
peculiar, unique thing, which assumes towards all
other things a new and never hitherto existing
attitude. But idleness, which lies at the bottom
of the active man's soul, prevents him from draw-
ing water out of his own well. Freedom of
opinion is like health; both are individual, and no
good general conception can be set up of either of
them. That which is necessary for the health of
one individual is the cause of disease in another,
and many means and ways to the freedom of the
spirit are for more highly developed natures the
ways and means to confinement.
287.
Censor Vit/£. —Alternations of love and hatred
for a long period distinguish the inward condition
of a man who desires to be free in his judgment
of life; he does not forget, and bears everything a
grudge, for good and evil. At last, when the
whole tablet of his soul is written full of experi-
ences, he will not hate and despise existence,
neither will he love it, but will regard it sometimes
with a joyful, sometimes with a sorrowful eye, and,
like nature, will be now in a summer and now in
an autumn mood.
288.
The Secondary Result. —Whoever earnestly
desires to be free will therewith and without any
compulsion lose all inclination for faults and vices;
he will also be more rarely overcome by anger and
\


## p. 262 (#382) ############################################

2$>2 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
I
vexation. His will desires nothing more urgently
than to discern, and the means to do this,—that is,
the permanent condition in which he is best able
to discern. '
289.
The Value of Disease. —The man who is
bed-ridden often perceives that he is usually ill of
his position, business, or society, and through them
has lost all self-possession. He gains this piece
of knowledge from the idleness to which his illness
condemns him.
290.
Sensitiveness in the Country. —If there
are no firm, quiet lines on the horizon of his life, a
species of mountain and forest line, man's inmost
will itself becomes restless, inattentive, and covetous,
as is the nature of a dweller in towns; he has no
happiness and confers no happiness.
291.
Prudence of the Free Spirits. —Free-
thinkers, those who live by knowledge alone, will
soon attain the supreme aim of their life and their
ultimate position towards society and State, and
will gladly content themselves, for instance, with a
small post or an income that is just sufficient to
enable them to live; for they will arrange to live
in such a manner that a great change of outward
prosperity, even an overthrow of the political order,
would not cause an overthrow of their life. To
all these things they devote as little energy as


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SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 2*65
V
\
possible in order that with their whole accumu- \
lated strength, and with a long breath, they may
dive into the element of knowledge. Thus they
can hope to dive deep and be able to see the
bottom. Such a spirit seizes only the point of
an event, he does not care for things in the whole
breadth and prolixity of their folds, for he does not
wish to entangle himself in them. He, too, knows
the weekdays of restraint, of dependence and
servitude. But from time to time there must
dawn for him a Sunday of liberty, otherwise he
could not endure life. It is probable that even his
love for humanity will be prudent and somewhat
short-winded, for he desires to meddle with the
world of inclinations and of blindness only as far
as is necessary for the purpose of knowledge. He
must trust that the genius of justice will say some-
thing for its disciple and protegd if accusing voices
were to call him poor in love. In his mode of life
and thought there is a refined heroism, which
scorns to offer itself to the great mob-reverence, as
its coarser brother does, and passes quietly through
and out of the world.