seemed to promise
something
more
VOL.
VOL.
Nietzsche - v06 - Human All-Too-Human - a
He looks despond-
ingly at the future; he knows well that his
successors will suffer from the past as he does.
•
1
1
250.
MANNERS. —Good manners disappear in pro-
portion as the influence of a Court and an exclusive
aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be plainly
observed from decade to decade by those who have
an eye for public behaviour, which grows visibly
## p. 231 (#305) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 231
more vulgar. No one any longer knows how to
court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render
actual homage (to a great statesman or artist, for
instance), the words of deepest feeling, of'simple,
peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing
to the embarrassment resulting from the lack
of grace and wit. Thus the public ceremonious
meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but
more full of feeling and honesty without really
being so. But must there always be a decline in
manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching
their lowest point. When society has become sure
of its intentions and principles, so that they have
a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt
from former moulding conditions are now inherited
and always more weakly learnt), there will then
be company manners, gestures and social ex-
pressions, which must appear as necessary and
simply natural because they are intentions and
principles. The better division of time and work,
the gymnastic exercise transformed into the ac-
companiment of all beautiful leisure, increased and
severer meditation, which brings wisdom and
suppleness even to the body, will bring all this
in its train. Here, indeed, we might think with a
smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the
forerunners of that new culture are distinguished
by their better manners? This is hardly the
case; although their spirit may be willing enough
their flesh is weak. The past of culture is still too
## p. 231 (#306) ############################################
23O HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
but it is necessary not to lose courage and give
up what we have newly gained. Moreover, we
cannot go back to the old, we have burnt our
boats; there remains nothing but to be brave
whatever happen. — March ahead, only get
forward! Perhaps our behaviour looks like
progress; but if not, then the words of Frederick
the Great may also be applied to us, and indeed
as a consolation: "Ah, mon cher Sulzer, vous ne
connaissez pas assez cette race maudite, a laquelle
nous appartenons''
249.
Suffering from Past Culture. —Whoever
has solved the problem of culture suffers from a
feeling similar to that of one who has inherited
unjustly-gotten riches, or of a prince who reigns
thanks to the violence of his ancestors. He
thinks of their origin with grief and is often
ashamed, often irritable. The whole sum of
strength, joy, vigour, which he devotes to his
possessions, is often balanced by a deep weariness,
he cannot forget their origin. He looks despond-
ingly at the future; he knows well that his
successors will suffer from the past as he does.
250.
MANNERS. —Good manners disappear in pro- \
portion as the influence of a Court and an exclusive
aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be plainly
observed from decade to decade by those who have
an eye for public behaviour, which grows visibly
## p. 231 (#307) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 231
more vulgar. No one any longer knows how to
court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render
actual homage (to a great statesman or artist, for
instance), the words of deepest feeling, of'simple,
peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing
to the embarrassment resulting from the lack
of grace and wit. Thus the public ceremonious
meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but
more full of feeling and honesty without really
being so. But must there always be a decline in
manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching
their lowest point. When society has become sure
of its intentions and principles, so that they have
a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt
from former moulding conditions are now inherited
and always more weakly learnt), there will then
be company manners, gestures and social ex-
pressions, which must appear as necessary and
simply natural because they are intentions and
principles. The better division of time and work,
the gymnastic exercise transformed into the ac-
companiment of all beautiful leisure, increased and
severer meditation, which brings wisdom and
suppleness even to the body, will bring all this
in its train. Here, indeed, we might think with a
smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the
forerunners of that new culture are distinguished
by their better manners? This is hardly the
'" case; although their spirit may be willing enough
their flesh is weak. The past of culture is still too
## p. 231 (#308) ############################################
230 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
but it is necessary not to lose courage and give
up what we have newly gained. Moreover, we
cannot go back to the old, we have burnt our
boats; there remains nothing but to be brave
whatever happen. — March ahead, only get
forward! Perhaps our behaviour looks like
progress; but if not, then the words of Frederick
the Great may also be applied to us, and indeed
as a consolation: "Ah, mon cher Sulzer, vous ne
connaissez pas assez cette race maudite, a laquelle
nous appartenonsl'
249.
Suffering from Past Culture. —Whoever
has solved the problem of culture suffers from a
feeling similar to that of one who has inherited
unjustly-gotten riches, or of a prince who reigns
thanks to the violence of his ancestors. He
thinks of their origin with grief and is often
ashamed, often irritable. The whole sum of
strength, joy, vigour, which he devotes to his
possessions, is often balanced by a deep weariness,
he cannot forget their origin. He looks despond-
ingly at the future; he knows well that his
successors will suffer from the past as he does.
250.
MANNERS. —Good manners disappear in pro-
portion as the influence of a Court and an exclusive
aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be plainly
observed from decade to decade by those who have
an eye for public behaviour, which grows visibly
## p. 231 (#309) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 231
more vulgar. No one any longer knows how to
court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render
actual homage (to a great statesman or artist, for
instance), the words of deepest feeling, of'simple,
peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing
to the embarrassment resulting from the lack
of grace and wit. Thus the public ceremonious
meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but
more full of feeling and honesty without really
being so. But must there always be a decline in
manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching
their lowest point. When society has become sure
of its intentions and principles, so that they have
a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt
from former moulding conditions are now inherited
and always more weakly learnt), there will then
be company manners, gestures and social ex-
pressions, which must appear as necessary and
simply natural because they are intentions and
principles. The better division of time and work,
the gymnastic exercise transformed into the ac-
companiment of all beautiful leisure, increased and
severer meditation, which brings wisdom and
suppleness even to the body, will bring all this
in its train. Here, indeed, we might think with a
smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the
forerunners of that new culture are distinguished
by their better manners? This is hardly the
case; although their spirit may be willing enough
their flesh is weak. The past of culture is still too
## p. 232 (#310) ############################################
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
powerful in their muscles, they still stand inafettered
position, and are half worldly priests and half de-
pendent educators of the upper classes, and besides
this they have been rendered crippled and life-
less by the pedantry of science and by antiquated,
spiritless methods. In any case, therefore, they
are physically, and often three-fourths mentally,
still the courtiers of an old, even antiquated
culture, and as such are themselves antiquated;
the new spirit that occasionally inhabits these old
dwellings often serves only to make them more
uncertain and frightened. In them there dwell
the ghosts of the past as well as the ghosts of the
future; what wonder if they do not wear the best
expression or show the most pleasing behaviour?
251.
The Future of Science. —To him who
works and seeks in her, Science gives much
pleasure,—to him who learns her facts, very little.
But as all important truths of science must gradu-
ally become commonplace and everyday matters,
even this small amount of pleasure ceases, just as
we have long ceased to take pleasure in learning
the admirable multiplication table. Now if Science
goes on giving less pleasure in herself, and always
takes more pleasure in throwing suspicion on the
consolations of metaphysics, religion and art, that
greatest of all sources of pleasure, to which
mankind owes almost its whole humanity, becomes
impoverished. Therefore a higher culture must
give man a double brain, two brain-chambers, so
V
i
## p. 233 (#311) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 233
to speak, one to feel science and the other to feel
non-science, which can lie side by side, without
confusion, divisible, exclusive; this is a necessity
of health. In one part lies the source of strength,
in the other lies the regulator; it must be heated
with illusions, onesidednesses, passions; and the
malicious and dangerous consequences of over-
heating must be averted by the help of conscious
Science. If this necessity of the higher culture is not
satisfied, the further course of human development
can almost certainly be foretold: the interest in
what is true ceases as it guarantees less pleasure;
illusion, error, and imagination reconquer step by
step the ancient territory, because they are
united to pleasure; the ruin of science: the
relapse into barbarism is the next result; mankind
must begin to weave its web afresh after having,
like Penelope, destroyed it during the night. But
who will assure us that it will always find the
necessary strength for this?
252.
The Pleasure in Discernment. —Why is
discernment, that essence of the searcher and the
philosopher, connected with pleasure? Firstly,
and above all, because thereby we become con-
scious of our strength, for the same reason that
gymnastic exercises, even without spectators, are
enjoyable. Secondly, because in the course of
knowledge we surpass older ideas and their re-
presentatives, and become, or believe ourselves to
be, conquerors. Thirdly, because even a very
## p. 234 (#312) ############################################
234 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
little new knowledge exalts us above every one,
and makes us feel we are the only ones who
know the subject aright. These are the three most
important reasons of the pleasure, but there are
many others, according to the nature of the dis-
cerner. A not inconsiderable index of such is
given, where no one would look for it, in a passage
of my parenetic work on Schopenhauer,* with the
arrangement of which every experienced servant
of knowledge may be satisfied, even though he
might wish to dispense with the ironical touch
that seems to pervade those pages. For if it be
true that for the making of a scholar "a number
of very human impulses and desires must be
thrown together," that the scholar is indeed a
very noble but not a pure metal, and "consists of
a confused blending of very different impulses and
attractions," the same thing may be said equally
of the making and nature of the artist, the phil-
osopher and the moral genius—and whatever .
glorified great names there may be in that list.
Everything human deserves ironical consideration
with respect to its origin,—therefore irony is so""
superfluous in the world.
253-
Fidelity as a Proof of Validity. —It is a
perfect sign of a sound theory if during forty
years its originator does not mistrust it; but I
* This refers to his essay, "Schopenhauer as Educator,"
in Thoughts Out of Season, vol. ii. of the English edition. —
J. M. K.
^
## p. 235 (#313) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 235
maintain that there has never yet been a philo-
sopher who has not eventually deprecated the
philosophy of his youth. Perhaps, however, he
has not spoken publicly of this change of opinion,
for reasons of ambition, or, what is more probable
in noble natures, out of delicate consideration for
his adherents.
254.
The Increase of what is Interesting. —
In the course of higher education everything
becomes interesting to man, he knows how to
find the instructive side of a thing quickly and to
put his finger on the place where it can fill up a
gap in his ideas, or where it may verify a thought.
Through this boredom disappears more and more,
and so does excessive excitability of temperament.
Finally he moves among men like a botanist
among plants, and looks upon himself as a
phenomenon, which only greatly excites his dis-
cerning instinct.
255.
The Superstition of the Simultaneous. —
Simultaneous things hold together, it is said. A
relative dies far away, and at the same time we
dream about him,—Consequently! But countless
relatives die and we do not dream about them.
It is like shipwrecked people who make vows;
afterwards, in the temples, we do not see the votive
tablets of those who perished. A man dies, an owl
hoots, a clock stops, all at one hour of the night,
—must there not be some connection? Such an
## p. 236 (#314) ############################################
236
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
intimacy with nature as this supposition implies
is flattering to mankind. This species of super-
stition is found again in a refined form in historians
and delineators of culture, who usually have a kind
of hydrophobic horror of all that senseless mixture,
in which individual and national life is so rich.
256.
Action and not Knowledge Exercised by
Science. —The value of strictly pursuing science
for a time does not lie precisely in its results, for
these, in proportion to the ocean of what is worth
knowing, are but an infinitesimally small drop.
But it gives an additional energy, decisiveness,
and toughness of endurance; it teaches how to
attain an aim suitably. In so far it is very valu-
able, with a view to all that is done later on, to
have once been a scientific man.
257.
The Youthful Charm of Science. —The
search for truth still retains the charm of being
in strong contrast to gray and now tiresome
error; but this charm is gradually disappearing.
It is true we still live in the youthful age of
science and are accustomed to follow truth as a
lovely girl; but how will it be when one day she
becomes an elderly, ill-tempered looking woman?
In almost all sciences the fundamental knowledge
is either found in earliest times or is still being
sought; what a different attraction this exerts
## p. 237 (#315) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 237
compared to that time when everything essential
has been found and there only remains for the
seeker a scanty gleaning (which sensation may be
learnt in several historical disciplines).
258.
The Statue of Humanity. —The genius of
culture fares as did Cellini when his statue of
Perseus was being cast; the molten mass threat-
ened to run short, but it had to suffice, so he
flung in his plates and dishes, and whatever else
his hands fell upon. In the same way genius
flings in errors, vices, hopes, ravings, and other
things of baser as well as of nobler metal, for the
statue of humanity must emerge and be finished;
what does it matter if commoner material is used
here and there?
259.
A Male Culture. —The Greek culture of the
classic age is a male culture. As far as women
are concerned, Pericles expresses everything in
the funeral speech: "They are best when they
are as little spoken of as possible amongst men. "
The erotic relation of men to youths was the
necessary and sole preparation, to a degree un-
attainable to our comprehension, of all manly
education (pretty much as for a long time all
higher education of women was only attainable
through love and marriage). All idealism of the
strength of the Greek nature threw itself into that
relation, and it is probable that never since have
young men been treated so attentively, so lovingly,
## p. 238 (#316) ############################################
238
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
so entirely with a view to their welfare (virtus) as
in the fifth and sixth centuries B. C. —according to
the beautiful saying of Holderlin: "denn liebend
giebt der Sterbliche vom Besten. " * The higher the
light in which this relation was regarded, the lower
sank intercourse with woman; nothing else was
taken into consideration than the production of
children and lust; there was no intellectual
intercourse, not even real love-making. If it be
further remembered that women were even ex-
cluded from contests and spectacles of every
description, there only remain the religious cults
as their sole higher occupation. For although in
the tragedies Electra and Antigone were repre-
sented, this was only tolerated in art, but not
liked in real life,—just as now we cannot endure
anything pathetic in life but like it in art. The
women had no other mission than to produce
beautiful, strong bodies, in which the father's
character lived on as unbrokenly as possible, and
therewith to counteract the increasing nerve-
tension of such a highly developed culture. This
kept the Greek culture young for a relatively long
time; for in the Greek mothers the Greek genius
always returned to nature.
260.
The Prejudice in Favour of Greatness.
— It is clear that men overvalue everything great
* For it is when loving that mortal man gives of his
best. —J. M. K.
^
## p. 239 (#317) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 239
and prominent. This arises from the conscious or
unconscious idea that they deem it very useful
when one person throws all his strength into one
thing and makes himself into a monstrous organ.
Assuredly, an equal development of all his powers /
is more useful and happier for man; for every
talent is a vampire which sucks blood and strength
from other powers, and an exaggerated production
can drive the most gifted almost to madness.
Within the circle of the arts, too, extreme natures
excite far too much attention; but a much lower
culture is necessary to be captivated by them.
Men submit from habit to everything that seeks
power.
261.
The Tyrants of the Mind. —It is only where
the ray of myth falls that the life of the Greeks
shines; otherwise it is gloomy. The Greek philo-
sophers are now robbing themselves of this myth;
is it not as if they wished to quit the sunshine for
shadow and gloom? Yet no plant avoids the
light; and, as a matter of fact, those philosophers
were only seeking a brighter sun; the myth was
not pure enough, not shining enough for them.
They found this light in their knowledge, in that
which each of them called his "truth. " But in
those times knowledge shone with a greater glory;
it was still young and knew but little of all the
difficulties and dangers of its path; it could still
hope to reach in one single bound the central point
of all being, and from thence to solve the riddle of
the world. These philosophers had a firm belief in
'
## p. 240 (#318) ############################################
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 (#319) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 241
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 yEschylus, 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. 241 (#320) ############################################
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 (#321) ############################################
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 ^Eschylus, 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. 241 (#322) ############################################
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 (#323) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 241
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 ^schylus, 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. 241 (#324) ############################################
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 (#325) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 241
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 ^Eschylus, 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. 241 (#326) ############################################
24O 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 (#327) ############################################
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 jEEschylus, 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. 241 (#328) ############################################
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 (#329) ############################################
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 jEschylus, 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 he 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. 241 (#330) ############################################
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 (#331) ############################################
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 ^Eschylus, 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 sculptors
workshop of such types. The fifth and sixth
centuries B. C. seemed to promise something more
vOl. 1. Q
## p.
ingly at the future; he knows well that his
successors will suffer from the past as he does.
•
1
1
250.
MANNERS. —Good manners disappear in pro-
portion as the influence of a Court and an exclusive
aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be plainly
observed from decade to decade by those who have
an eye for public behaviour, which grows visibly
## p. 231 (#305) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 231
more vulgar. No one any longer knows how to
court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render
actual homage (to a great statesman or artist, for
instance), the words of deepest feeling, of'simple,
peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing
to the embarrassment resulting from the lack
of grace and wit. Thus the public ceremonious
meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but
more full of feeling and honesty without really
being so. But must there always be a decline in
manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching
their lowest point. When society has become sure
of its intentions and principles, so that they have
a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt
from former moulding conditions are now inherited
and always more weakly learnt), there will then
be company manners, gestures and social ex-
pressions, which must appear as necessary and
simply natural because they are intentions and
principles. The better division of time and work,
the gymnastic exercise transformed into the ac-
companiment of all beautiful leisure, increased and
severer meditation, which brings wisdom and
suppleness even to the body, will bring all this
in its train. Here, indeed, we might think with a
smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the
forerunners of that new culture are distinguished
by their better manners? This is hardly the
case; although their spirit may be willing enough
their flesh is weak. The past of culture is still too
## p. 231 (#306) ############################################
23O HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
but it is necessary not to lose courage and give
up what we have newly gained. Moreover, we
cannot go back to the old, we have burnt our
boats; there remains nothing but to be brave
whatever happen. — March ahead, only get
forward! Perhaps our behaviour looks like
progress; but if not, then the words of Frederick
the Great may also be applied to us, and indeed
as a consolation: "Ah, mon cher Sulzer, vous ne
connaissez pas assez cette race maudite, a laquelle
nous appartenons''
249.
Suffering from Past Culture. —Whoever
has solved the problem of culture suffers from a
feeling similar to that of one who has inherited
unjustly-gotten riches, or of a prince who reigns
thanks to the violence of his ancestors. He
thinks of their origin with grief and is often
ashamed, often irritable. The whole sum of
strength, joy, vigour, which he devotes to his
possessions, is often balanced by a deep weariness,
he cannot forget their origin. He looks despond-
ingly at the future; he knows well that his
successors will suffer from the past as he does.
250.
MANNERS. —Good manners disappear in pro- \
portion as the influence of a Court and an exclusive
aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be plainly
observed from decade to decade by those who have
an eye for public behaviour, which grows visibly
## p. 231 (#307) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 231
more vulgar. No one any longer knows how to
court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render
actual homage (to a great statesman or artist, for
instance), the words of deepest feeling, of'simple,
peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing
to the embarrassment resulting from the lack
of grace and wit. Thus the public ceremonious
meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but
more full of feeling and honesty without really
being so. But must there always be a decline in
manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching
their lowest point. When society has become sure
of its intentions and principles, so that they have
a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt
from former moulding conditions are now inherited
and always more weakly learnt), there will then
be company manners, gestures and social ex-
pressions, which must appear as necessary and
simply natural because they are intentions and
principles. The better division of time and work,
the gymnastic exercise transformed into the ac-
companiment of all beautiful leisure, increased and
severer meditation, which brings wisdom and
suppleness even to the body, will bring all this
in its train. Here, indeed, we might think with a
smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the
forerunners of that new culture are distinguished
by their better manners? This is hardly the
'" case; although their spirit may be willing enough
their flesh is weak. The past of culture is still too
## p. 231 (#308) ############################################
230 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
but it is necessary not to lose courage and give
up what we have newly gained. Moreover, we
cannot go back to the old, we have burnt our
boats; there remains nothing but to be brave
whatever happen. — March ahead, only get
forward! Perhaps our behaviour looks like
progress; but if not, then the words of Frederick
the Great may also be applied to us, and indeed
as a consolation: "Ah, mon cher Sulzer, vous ne
connaissez pas assez cette race maudite, a laquelle
nous appartenonsl'
249.
Suffering from Past Culture. —Whoever
has solved the problem of culture suffers from a
feeling similar to that of one who has inherited
unjustly-gotten riches, or of a prince who reigns
thanks to the violence of his ancestors. He
thinks of their origin with grief and is often
ashamed, often irritable. The whole sum of
strength, joy, vigour, which he devotes to his
possessions, is often balanced by a deep weariness,
he cannot forget their origin. He looks despond-
ingly at the future; he knows well that his
successors will suffer from the past as he does.
250.
MANNERS. —Good manners disappear in pro-
portion as the influence of a Court and an exclusive
aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be plainly
observed from decade to decade by those who have
an eye for public behaviour, which grows visibly
## p. 231 (#309) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 231
more vulgar. No one any longer knows how to
court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render
actual homage (to a great statesman or artist, for
instance), the words of deepest feeling, of'simple,
peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing
to the embarrassment resulting from the lack
of grace and wit. Thus the public ceremonious
meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but
more full of feeling and honesty without really
being so. But must there always be a decline in
manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching
their lowest point. When society has become sure
of its intentions and principles, so that they have
a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt
from former moulding conditions are now inherited
and always more weakly learnt), there will then
be company manners, gestures and social ex-
pressions, which must appear as necessary and
simply natural because they are intentions and
principles. The better division of time and work,
the gymnastic exercise transformed into the ac-
companiment of all beautiful leisure, increased and
severer meditation, which brings wisdom and
suppleness even to the body, will bring all this
in its train. Here, indeed, we might think with a
smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the
forerunners of that new culture are distinguished
by their better manners? This is hardly the
case; although their spirit may be willing enough
their flesh is weak. The past of culture is still too
## p. 232 (#310) ############################################
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
powerful in their muscles, they still stand inafettered
position, and are half worldly priests and half de-
pendent educators of the upper classes, and besides
this they have been rendered crippled and life-
less by the pedantry of science and by antiquated,
spiritless methods. In any case, therefore, they
are physically, and often three-fourths mentally,
still the courtiers of an old, even antiquated
culture, and as such are themselves antiquated;
the new spirit that occasionally inhabits these old
dwellings often serves only to make them more
uncertain and frightened. In them there dwell
the ghosts of the past as well as the ghosts of the
future; what wonder if they do not wear the best
expression or show the most pleasing behaviour?
251.
The Future of Science. —To him who
works and seeks in her, Science gives much
pleasure,—to him who learns her facts, very little.
But as all important truths of science must gradu-
ally become commonplace and everyday matters,
even this small amount of pleasure ceases, just as
we have long ceased to take pleasure in learning
the admirable multiplication table. Now if Science
goes on giving less pleasure in herself, and always
takes more pleasure in throwing suspicion on the
consolations of metaphysics, religion and art, that
greatest of all sources of pleasure, to which
mankind owes almost its whole humanity, becomes
impoverished. Therefore a higher culture must
give man a double brain, two brain-chambers, so
V
i
## p. 233 (#311) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 233
to speak, one to feel science and the other to feel
non-science, which can lie side by side, without
confusion, divisible, exclusive; this is a necessity
of health. In one part lies the source of strength,
in the other lies the regulator; it must be heated
with illusions, onesidednesses, passions; and the
malicious and dangerous consequences of over-
heating must be averted by the help of conscious
Science. If this necessity of the higher culture is not
satisfied, the further course of human development
can almost certainly be foretold: the interest in
what is true ceases as it guarantees less pleasure;
illusion, error, and imagination reconquer step by
step the ancient territory, because they are
united to pleasure; the ruin of science: the
relapse into barbarism is the next result; mankind
must begin to weave its web afresh after having,
like Penelope, destroyed it during the night. But
who will assure us that it will always find the
necessary strength for this?
252.
The Pleasure in Discernment. —Why is
discernment, that essence of the searcher and the
philosopher, connected with pleasure? Firstly,
and above all, because thereby we become con-
scious of our strength, for the same reason that
gymnastic exercises, even without spectators, are
enjoyable. Secondly, because in the course of
knowledge we surpass older ideas and their re-
presentatives, and become, or believe ourselves to
be, conquerors. Thirdly, because even a very
## p. 234 (#312) ############################################
234 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
little new knowledge exalts us above every one,
and makes us feel we are the only ones who
know the subject aright. These are the three most
important reasons of the pleasure, but there are
many others, according to the nature of the dis-
cerner. A not inconsiderable index of such is
given, where no one would look for it, in a passage
of my parenetic work on Schopenhauer,* with the
arrangement of which every experienced servant
of knowledge may be satisfied, even though he
might wish to dispense with the ironical touch
that seems to pervade those pages. For if it be
true that for the making of a scholar "a number
of very human impulses and desires must be
thrown together," that the scholar is indeed a
very noble but not a pure metal, and "consists of
a confused blending of very different impulses and
attractions," the same thing may be said equally
of the making and nature of the artist, the phil-
osopher and the moral genius—and whatever .
glorified great names there may be in that list.
Everything human deserves ironical consideration
with respect to its origin,—therefore irony is so""
superfluous in the world.
253-
Fidelity as a Proof of Validity. —It is a
perfect sign of a sound theory if during forty
years its originator does not mistrust it; but I
* This refers to his essay, "Schopenhauer as Educator,"
in Thoughts Out of Season, vol. ii. of the English edition. —
J. M. K.
^
## p. 235 (#313) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 235
maintain that there has never yet been a philo-
sopher who has not eventually deprecated the
philosophy of his youth. Perhaps, however, he
has not spoken publicly of this change of opinion,
for reasons of ambition, or, what is more probable
in noble natures, out of delicate consideration for
his adherents.
254.
The Increase of what is Interesting. —
In the course of higher education everything
becomes interesting to man, he knows how to
find the instructive side of a thing quickly and to
put his finger on the place where it can fill up a
gap in his ideas, or where it may verify a thought.
Through this boredom disappears more and more,
and so does excessive excitability of temperament.
Finally he moves among men like a botanist
among plants, and looks upon himself as a
phenomenon, which only greatly excites his dis-
cerning instinct.
255.
The Superstition of the Simultaneous. —
Simultaneous things hold together, it is said. A
relative dies far away, and at the same time we
dream about him,—Consequently! But countless
relatives die and we do not dream about them.
It is like shipwrecked people who make vows;
afterwards, in the temples, we do not see the votive
tablets of those who perished. A man dies, an owl
hoots, a clock stops, all at one hour of the night,
—must there not be some connection? Such an
## p. 236 (#314) ############################################
236
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
intimacy with nature as this supposition implies
is flattering to mankind. This species of super-
stition is found again in a refined form in historians
and delineators of culture, who usually have a kind
of hydrophobic horror of all that senseless mixture,
in which individual and national life is so rich.
256.
Action and not Knowledge Exercised by
Science. —The value of strictly pursuing science
for a time does not lie precisely in its results, for
these, in proportion to the ocean of what is worth
knowing, are but an infinitesimally small drop.
But it gives an additional energy, decisiveness,
and toughness of endurance; it teaches how to
attain an aim suitably. In so far it is very valu-
able, with a view to all that is done later on, to
have once been a scientific man.
257.
The Youthful Charm of Science. —The
search for truth still retains the charm of being
in strong contrast to gray and now tiresome
error; but this charm is gradually disappearing.
It is true we still live in the youthful age of
science and are accustomed to follow truth as a
lovely girl; but how will it be when one day she
becomes an elderly, ill-tempered looking woman?
In almost all sciences the fundamental knowledge
is either found in earliest times or is still being
sought; what a different attraction this exerts
## p. 237 (#315) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 237
compared to that time when everything essential
has been found and there only remains for the
seeker a scanty gleaning (which sensation may be
learnt in several historical disciplines).
258.
The Statue of Humanity. —The genius of
culture fares as did Cellini when his statue of
Perseus was being cast; the molten mass threat-
ened to run short, but it had to suffice, so he
flung in his plates and dishes, and whatever else
his hands fell upon. In the same way genius
flings in errors, vices, hopes, ravings, and other
things of baser as well as of nobler metal, for the
statue of humanity must emerge and be finished;
what does it matter if commoner material is used
here and there?
259.
A Male Culture. —The Greek culture of the
classic age is a male culture. As far as women
are concerned, Pericles expresses everything in
the funeral speech: "They are best when they
are as little spoken of as possible amongst men. "
The erotic relation of men to youths was the
necessary and sole preparation, to a degree un-
attainable to our comprehension, of all manly
education (pretty much as for a long time all
higher education of women was only attainable
through love and marriage). All idealism of the
strength of the Greek nature threw itself into that
relation, and it is probable that never since have
young men been treated so attentively, so lovingly,
## p. 238 (#316) ############################################
238
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
so entirely with a view to their welfare (virtus) as
in the fifth and sixth centuries B. C. —according to
the beautiful saying of Holderlin: "denn liebend
giebt der Sterbliche vom Besten. " * The higher the
light in which this relation was regarded, the lower
sank intercourse with woman; nothing else was
taken into consideration than the production of
children and lust; there was no intellectual
intercourse, not even real love-making. If it be
further remembered that women were even ex-
cluded from contests and spectacles of every
description, there only remain the religious cults
as their sole higher occupation. For although in
the tragedies Electra and Antigone were repre-
sented, this was only tolerated in art, but not
liked in real life,—just as now we cannot endure
anything pathetic in life but like it in art. The
women had no other mission than to produce
beautiful, strong bodies, in which the father's
character lived on as unbrokenly as possible, and
therewith to counteract the increasing nerve-
tension of such a highly developed culture. This
kept the Greek culture young for a relatively long
time; for in the Greek mothers the Greek genius
always returned to nature.
260.
The Prejudice in Favour of Greatness.
— It is clear that men overvalue everything great
* For it is when loving that mortal man gives of his
best. —J. M. K.
^
## p. 239 (#317) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 239
and prominent. This arises from the conscious or
unconscious idea that they deem it very useful
when one person throws all his strength into one
thing and makes himself into a monstrous organ.
Assuredly, an equal development of all his powers /
is more useful and happier for man; for every
talent is a vampire which sucks blood and strength
from other powers, and an exaggerated production
can drive the most gifted almost to madness.
Within the circle of the arts, too, extreme natures
excite far too much attention; but a much lower
culture is necessary to be captivated by them.
Men submit from habit to everything that seeks
power.
261.
The Tyrants of the Mind. —It is only where
the ray of myth falls that the life of the Greeks
shines; otherwise it is gloomy. The Greek philo-
sophers are now robbing themselves of this myth;
is it not as if they wished to quit the sunshine for
shadow and gloom? Yet no plant avoids the
light; and, as a matter of fact, those philosophers
were only seeking a brighter sun; the myth was
not pure enough, not shining enough for them.
They found this light in their knowledge, in that
which each of them called his "truth. " But in
those times knowledge shone with a greater glory;
it was still young and knew but little of all the
difficulties and dangers of its path; it could still
hope to reach in one single bound the central point
of all being, and from thence to solve the riddle of
the world. These philosophers had a firm belief in
'
## p. 240 (#318) ############################################
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 (#319) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 241
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 yEschylus, 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. 241 (#320) ############################################
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 (#321) ############################################
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 ^Eschylus, 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. 241 (#322) ############################################
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 (#323) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 241
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 ^schylus, 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. 241 (#324) ############################################
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 (#325) ############################################
SIGNS OF HIGHER AND LOWER CULTURE. 241
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 ^Eschylus, 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. 241 (#326) ############################################
24O 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 (#327) ############################################
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 jEEschylus, 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. 241 (#328) ############################################
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 (#329) ############################################
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 jEschylus, 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 he 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. 241 (#330) ############################################
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 (#331) ############################################
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 ^Eschylus, 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 sculptors
workshop of such types. The fifth and sixth
centuries B. C. seemed to promise something more
vOl. 1. Q
## p.
