Judging the
Criminal
and his Judge.
Nietzsche - v07 - Human All-Too-Human - b
He only suffers from new chains, and "free will"
really means nothing more than an absence of feel-
ing of new chains.
11.
Freedom of the Will and the Isolation of
FACTS. —Our ordinary inaccurate observation takes
a group of phenomena as one and calls them a fact.
Between this fact and another we imagine a vacuum,
we isolate each fact. In reality, however, the sum
of our actions and cognitions is no series of facts
and intervening vacua, but a continuous stream.
Now the belief in free will is incompatible with the
idea of a continuous, uniform, undivided, indivisible
flow. This belief presupposes that every single
action is isolated and indivisible; it is an atomic
theory as regards volition and cognition. —We mis-
understand facts as we misunderstand characters,
speaking of similar characters and similar facts,
whereas both are non-existent. Further, we bestow
praise and blame only on this false hypothesis, that
there are similar facts, that a graduated order of
species of facts exists, corresponding to a graduated
order of values. Thus we isolate not only the single
fact, but the groups of apparently equal facts (good,
evil, compassionate, envious actions, and so forth).
In both cases we are wrong. —The word and the
concept are the most obvious reason for our belief
in this isolation of groups of actions. We do not
## p. 192 (#214) ############################################
192 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
merely thereby designate the things ; the thought at
the back of our minds is that by the word and the
concept we can grasp the essence of the actions.
We are still constantly led astray by words and
actions, and are induced to think of things as simpler
than they are, as separate, indivisible, existing in
the absolute. Language contains a hidden philo-
sophical mythology, which, however careful we may
be, breaks out afresh at every moment. The belief
in free will—that is to say, in similar facts and iso-
lated facts—finds in language its continual apostle
and advocate.
12.
The Fundamental Errors. —A man cannot
feel any psychical pleasure or pain unless he is
swayed by one of two illusions. Either he believes
in the identity of certain facts, certain sensations,
and in that case finds spiritual pleasure and pain
in comparing present with past conditions and in
noting their similarity or difference (as is invariably
the case with recollection); or he believes in the
freedom of the will, perhaps when he reflects, "I
ought not to have done this," "This might have
turned out differently," and from these reflections
likewise he derives pleasure and pain. Without
the errors that are rife in every psychical pain and
pleasure, humanity would never have developed.
For the root idea of humanity is that man is free in a
world of bondage—man, the eternal wonder-worker,
whether his deeds be good or evil—man, the amaz-
ing exception, the super-beast, the quasi-God, the
mind of creation, the indispensable, the key-word
## p. 193 (#215) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 193
to the cosmic riddle, the mighty lord of nature and
despiser of nature, the creature that calls its history
"the history of the world"! Vanitas vanitatum.
homo.
13-
Repetition. —It is an excellent thing to express
a thing consecutively in two ways, and thus provide
it with a right and a left foot. Truth can stand
indeed on one leg, but with two she will walk and
complete her journey.
14. y
Man as the Comic Actor of the World. —
It would require beings more intellectual than men
to relish to the full the humorous side of man's view
of himself as the goal of all existence and of his
serious pronouncement that he is satisfied only with
the prospect of fulfilling a world-mission. If a God
created the world, he created man to be his ape, as
a perpetual source of amusement in the midst of his
rather tedious eternities. The music of the spheres
surrounding the world would then presumably be
the mocking laughter of all the other creatures
around mankind. God in his boredom uses pain
for the tickling of his favourite animal, in order to
enjoy his proudly tragic gestures and expressions
of suffering, and, in general, the intellectual inven-
tiveness of the vainest of his creatures—as inventor
of this inventor. For he who invented man as a
joke had more intellect and more joy in intellect
than has man. —Even here, where our human nature
is willing to humble itself, our vanity again plays us
a trick, in that we men should like in this vanity at
vol. n. N
## p. 194 (#216) ############################################
194 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
least to be quite marvellous and incomparable. Our
uniqueness in the world! Oh, what an improbable
thing it is! Astronomers, who occasionally acquire
a horizon outside our world, give us to understand
that the drop of life on the earth is without signific-
ance for the total character of the mighty ocean of
birth and decay; that countless stars present con-
ditions for the generation of life similar to those of
the earth—and yet these are but a handful in com-
parison with the endless number that have never
known, or have long been cured, of the eruption of
life; that life on each of these stars, measured by
the period of its existence, has been but an instant,
a nicker, with long, long intervals afterwards—and
thus in no way the aim and final purpose of their
existence. Possibly the ant in the forest is quite
as firmly convinced that it is the aim and purpose
of the existence of the forest, as we are convinced
in our imaginations (almost unconsciously) that the
destruction of mankind involves the destruction of
the world. It is even modesty on our part to go
no farther than this, and not to arrange a universal
twilight of the world and the Gods as the funeral
ceremony of the last man. Even to the eye of
the most unbiassed astronomer a lifeless world can
scarcely appear otherwise than as a shining and
swinging star wherein man lies buried.
15-
The Modesty of Man. —How little pleasure is
enough for the majority to make them feel that life
is good! How modest is man!
## p. 195 (#217) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 195
16.
Where Indifference is Necessary. —No-
thing would be more perverse than to wait for
the truths that science will finally establish con-
cerning the first and last things, and until then to
think (and especially to believe) in the traditional
way, as one is so often advised to do. The impulse
that bids us seek nothing but certainties in this
domain is a religious offshoot, nothing better—a
hidden and only apparently sceptical variety of the
"metaphysical need," the underlying idea being
that for a long time no view of these ultimate
certainties will be obtainable, and that until then
the "believer" has the right not to trouble himself
about the whole subject. We have no need of
these certainties about the farthermost horizons in
order to live a full and efficient human life, any
more than the ant needs them in order to be a good
ant. Rather must we ascertain the origin of that
troublesome significance that we have attached to
these things for so long. For this we require the
history of ethical and religious sentiments, since it
is only under the influence of such sentiments that
these most acute problems of knowledge have be-
come so weighty and terrifying. Into the outer-
most regions to which the mental eye can penetrate
(without ever penetrating into them), we have
smuggled such concepts as guilt and punishment
(everlasting punishment, too! ). The darker those
regions, the more careless we have been. For ages
men have let their imaginations run riot where they
## p. 196 (#218) ############################################
196 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
could establish nothing, and have induced posterity
to accept these fantasies as something serious and
true, with this abominable lie as their final trump-
card: that faith is worth more than knowledge.
What we need now in regard to these ultimate things
is not knowledge as against faith, but indifference
as against faith and pretended knowledge in these
matters! —Everything must lie nearer to us than
what has hitherto been preached to us as the most
important thing, I mean the questions: "What end
does man serve? " "What is his fate after death? "
"How does he make his peace with God? " and all
the rest of that bag of tricks. The problems of the
dogmatic philosophers, be theyidealists,materialists,
or realists, concern us as little as do these religious
questions. They all have the same object in view
—to force us to a decision in matters where neither
faith nor knowledge is needed. It is better even
for the most ardent lover of knowledge that the
territory open to investigation and to reason should
be encircled by a belt of fog-laden, treacherous
marshland, a strip of ever watery, impenetrable, and
indeterminable country. It is just by the com-
parison with the realm of darkness on the edge of
the world of knowledge that the bright, accessible
region of that world rises in value. —We must once
more become good friends of the "everyday matters,"
and not, as hitherto, despise them and look beyond
them at clouds and monsters of the night. In forests
and caverns, in marshy tracts and under dull skies,
on the lowest rungs of the ladder of culture, man
has lived for aeons, and lived in poverty. There
he has learnt to despise the present, his neighbours,
## p. 197 (#219) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 197
his life, and himself, and we, the inhabitants of the
brighter fields of Nature and mind, still inherit in
our blood some taint of this contempt for everyday
matters.
17.
Profound Interpretations. —He who has in-
terpreted a passage in an author " more profoundly"
than was intended, has not interpreted the author
but has obscured him. Our metaphysicians are in
the same relation, or even in a worse relation, to the
text of Nature. For, to apply their profound in-
terpretations, they often alter the text to suit their
purpose—or, in other words, corrupt the text. A
curious example of the corruption and obscuration
of an author's text is furnished by the ideas of
Schopenhauer on the pregnancy of women. "The
sign of a continuous will to life in time," he says,
"is copulation; the sign of the light of knowledge
which is associated anew with this will and holds
the possibility of a deliverance, and that too in the
highest degree of clearness, is the renewed incar-
nation of the will to life. This incarnation is be-
tokened by pregnancy, which is therefore frank and
open, and even proud, whereas copulation hides itself
like a criminal. " He declares that every woman, if
surprised in the sexual act, would be likely to die
of shame, but "displays her pregnancy without a
trace of shame, nay even with a sort of pride. " Now,
firstly, this condition cannot easily be displayed
more aggressively than it displays itself, and when
## p. 198 (#220) ############################################
I98 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Schopenhauer gives prominence only to the inten-
tional character of the display, he is fashioning his
text to suit the interpretation. Moreover, his state-
ment of the universality of the phenomenon is not
true. He speaks of "every woman. " Many women,
especially the younger, often appear painfully
ashamed of their condition, even in the presence of
their nearest kinsfolk. And when women of riper
years, especially in the humbler classes, do actually
appear proud of their condition, it is because they
would give us to understand that they are still
desirable to their husbands. That a neighbour on
seeing them or a passing stranger should say or
think " Can it be possible ? "—that is an alms always
acceptable to the vanity of women of low mental
capacity. In the reverse instance, to conclude from
Schopenhauer's proposition, the cleverest and most
intelligent women would tend more than any to
exult openly in their condition. For they have the
best prospect of giving birth to an intellectual
prodigy, in whom "the will" can once more
"negative" itself for the universal good. Stupid
women, on the other hand, would have every reason
to hide their pregnancy more modestly than any-
thing they hide. —It cannot be said that this view
corresponds to reality. Granted, however, that
Schopenhauer was right on the general principle
that women show more self-satisfaction when preg-
nant than at any other time, a better explanation
than this lies to hand. One might imagine the
clucking of a hen even before she lays an egg, say-
ing, " Look! look! I shall lay an egg! I shall lay
an egg! "
## p. 199 (#221) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. I99
18.
The Modern Diogenes. —Before we look for
man, we must have found the lantern. —Will it have
to be the Cynic's lantern?
19.
Immoralists. —Moralists must now put up with
being rated as immoralists, because they dissect
morals. He, however, who would dissect must kill,
but only in order that we may know more, judge
better, live better, not in order that all the world
may dissect. Unfortunately, men still think that
every moralist in his every action must be a pattern
for others to imitate. They confound him with the
preacher of morality. The older moralists did not
dissect enough and preached too often, whence that
confusion and the unpleasant consequences for our
latter-day moralists are derived.
20.
A Caution against Confusion. —There are
moralists who treat the strong, noble, self-denying
attitude of such beings as the heroes of Plutarch,
or the pure, enlightened, warmth-giving state of soul
peculiar to truly good men and women, as difficult
scientific problems. They investigate the origin of
such phenomena, indicating the complex element
in the apparent simplicity, and directing their gaze
to the tangled skein of motives, the delicate web of
conceptual illusions, and the sentiments of indi-
viduals or of groups, that are a legacy of ancient
## p. 200 (#222) ############################################
200 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
days gradually increased. Such moralists are very
different from those with whom they are most
commonly confounded, from those petty minds that
do not believe at all in these modes of thought and
states of soul, and imagine their own poverty to be
hidden somewhere behind the glamour of greatness
and purity. The moralists say," Here are problems,"
and these pitiable creatures say, "Here are impostors
and deceptions. " Thus the latter deny the existence
of the very things which the former are at pains to
explain.
21.
Man as the Measurer. —Perhaps all human
morality had its origin in the tremendous excite-
ment that seized primitive man when he discovered
measure and measuring, scales and weighing (for
the word Mensch [man] means " the measurer "—he
wished to name himself after his greatest discovery! ).
With these ideas they mounted into regions that
are quite beyond all measuring and weighing, but
did not appear to be so in the beginning.
22.
The Principle of Equilibrium. —The robber
and the man of power who promises to protect a
community from robbers are perhaps at bottom
beings of the same mould, save that the latter
attains his ends by other means than the former—
that is to say, through regular imposts paid to him
by the community, and no longer through forced
contributions. (The same relation exists between
## p. 201 (#223) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 201
merchant and pirate, who for a long period are one
and the same person: where the one function ap-
pears to them inadvisable, they exercise the other.
Kven to-day mercantile morality is really nothing
but a refinement on piratical morality—buying in
the cheapest market, at prime cost if possible, and
selling in the dearest. ) The essential point is that
the man of power promises to maintain the equili-
brium against the robber, and herein the weak find
a possibility of living. For either they must group
themselves into an equivalent power, or they must
subject themselves to some one of equivalent power
(i. e. render service in return for his efforts). The
latter course is generally preferred, because it really
keeps two dangerous beings in check—the robber
through the man of power, and the man of power
through the standpoint of advantage; for the latter
profits by treating his subjects with graciousness
and tolerance, in order that they may support not
only themselves but their ruler. As a matter of
fact, conditions may still be hard and cruel enough,
yet in comparison with the complete annihilation
that was formerly always a possibility, men breathe
freely. —The community is at first the organisa-
tion of the weak to counterbalance menacing forces.
An organisation to outweigh those forces would be
more advisable, if its members grew strong enough
to destroy the adverse power: and when it is a
question of one mighty oppressor, the attempt will
certainly be made. But if the one man is the head
of a clan, or if he has a large following, a rapid and
decisive annihilation is improbable, and a long or
permanent feud is only to be expected. This feud,
## p. 202 (#224) ############################################
202 HTJMAX, ALL-TOO-HTJMAX.
however, involves the least desirable condition for
the community, for it thereby loses the time to pro-
vide for its means of subsistence with the necessary
regularity, and sees the product of all work hourly
threatened. Hence the community prefers to raise
its power of attack and defence to the exact plane
on which the power of its dangerous neighbour
stands, and to give him to understand that an equal
weight now lies in its own side of the scales—so
why not be good friends ? —Thus equilibrium is a
most important conception for the understanding
of the ancient doctrines of law and morals. Equili-
brium is, in fact, the basis of justice. When justice
in ruder ages says, "An eye for an eye, a tooth
for a tooth," it presupposes the attainment of this
equilibrium and tries to maintain it by means of
this compensation; so that, when crime is com-
mitted, the injured party will not take the revenge
of blind anger. By means of the jus talionis the
equilibrium of the disturbed relations of power is
restored, for in such primitive times an eye or an
arm more means a bit more power, more weight.
—In a community where all consider themselves
equal, disgrace and punishment await crime—that
is, violations of the principle of equilibrium. Dis-
grace is thrown into the scale as a counter-weight
against the encroaching individual, who has gained
profit by his encroachment, and now suffers losses
(through disgrace) which annul and outweigh the
previous profits. Punishment, in the same way,
sets up a far greater counter-weight against the pre-
ponderance which every criminal hopes to obtain—
imprisonment as against a deed of violence, restitu-
## p. 203 (#225) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 203
tion and fines as against theft. Thus the sinner is
reminded that his action has excluded him from the
community and from its moral advantages, since
the community treats him as an inferior, a weaker
brother, an outsider. For this reason punishment
is not merely retaliation, but has something more,
something of the cruelty of the state of nature, and
of this it would serve as a reminder.
23-
Whether the Adherents of the Doctrine
of Free Will have a Right to Punish ? —Men
whose vocation it is to judge and punish try to
establish in every case whether an evil-doer is really
responsible for his act, whether he was able to apply
his reasoning powers, whether he acted with motives
and not unconsciously or under constraint. If he is
punished, it is because he preferred the worse to the
better motives, which he must consequently have
known. Where this knowledge is wanting, man is,
according to the prevailing view, not responsible—
unless his ignorance, e. g. his ignorantia legis, be the
consequence of an intentional neglect to learn what
he ought: in that case he already preferred the
worse to the better motives at the time when he
refused to learn, and must now pay the penalty of
his unwise choice. If, on the other hand, perhaps
through stupidity or shortsightedness, he has never
seen the better motives, he is generally not pun-
ished, for people say that he made a wrong choice,
he acted like a brute beast The intentional rejec-
tion of the better reason is now needed before we
## p. 204 (#226) ############################################
204 HUMAX, ALL-TOO-HUMAK.
treat the offender as fit to be punished. But how can
any one be intentionally more unreasonable than he
ought to be? Whence comes the decision, if the
scales are loaded with good and bad motives? So
the origin is not error or blindness, not an internal
or external constraint? (It should furthermore be
remembered that every so-called "external con-
straint " is nothing more than the internal constraint
of fear and pain. ) Whence? is the repeated question.
So reason is not to be the cause of action, because
reason cannot decide against the better motives?
Thus we call "free will" to our aid. Absolute
discretion is to decide, and a moment is to intervene
when no motive exercises an influence, when the
deed is done as a miracle, resulting from nothing.
This assumed discretion is punished in a case
where no discretion should rule. Reason, which
knows law, prohibition, and command, should have
left no choice, they say, and should have acted
as a constraint and a higher power. Hence the
offender is punished because he makes use of " free
will"—in other words, has acted without motive
where he should have been guided by motives.
But why did he do it? This question must not even
be asked; the deed was done without a "Why? "
without motive, without origin, being a thing pur-
poseless, unreasoned. —However, according to the
above-named preliminary condition of punishability,
such a deed should not be punished at all! More-
over, even this reason for punishing should not
hold good, that in this case something had not been
done, had been omitted, that reason had not been
used at all: for at any rate the omission was unin-
## p. 205 (#227) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 205
tentional,and only intentional omission is considered
punishable. The offender has indeed preferred the
worse to the better motives, but without motive and
purpose: he has indeed failed to apply his reason,
but not exactly with the object of not applying it.
The very assumption made in the case of punish-
able crime, that the criminal intentionally renounced
his reason, is removed by the hypothesis of " free
will. " According to your own principles, you must
not punish, you adherents of the doctrine of free
will! —These principles are, however, nothing but a
very marvellous conceptual mythology, and the hen
that hatched them has brooded on her eggs far away
from all reality.
24.
Judging the Criminal and his Judge. —The
criminal, who knows the whole concatenation of
circumstances, does not consider his act so far
beyond the bounds of order and comprehension
as does his judge. His punishment, however, is
measured by the degree of astonishment that seizes
the judge when he finds the crime incomprehensible.
—If the defending counsel's knowledge of the case
and its previous history extends far enough, the
so-called extenuating circumstances which he duly
pleads must end by absolving his client from all
guilt. Or, to put it more plainly, the advocate
will, step by step, tone down and finally remove
the astonishment of the judge, by forcing every
honest listener to the tacit avowal, " He was bound
to act as he did, and if we punished, we should
be punishing eternal Necessity. "—Measuring the
## p. 206 (#228) ############################################
2C6 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
punishment by the degree of knowledge we possess
or can obtain of the previous history of the crime—
is that not in conflict with all equity?
=5-
Exchange and Equity. —In an exchange, the
only just and honest course would be for either
party to demand only so much as he considers his
commodity to be worth, allowance being made for
trouble in acquisition, scarcity, time spent and so
forth, besides the subjective value. As soon as
you make your price bear a relation to the other's
need, you become a refined sort of robber and ex-
tortioner. — If money is the sole medium of ex-
change, we must remember that a shilling is by
no means the same thing in the hands of a rich
heir, a farm labourer, a merchant, and a university
student. It would be equitable for every one to
receive much or little for his money, according as
he has done much or little to earn it. In practice,
as we all know, the reverse is the case. In the
world of high finance the shilling of the idle rich
man can buy more than that of the poor, industrious
man.
26.
Legal Conditions as Means. —Law, where it
rests upon contracts between equals, holds good
so long as the power of the parties to the contract
remains equal or similar. Wisdom created law
to end all feuds and useless expenditure among
men on an equal footing. Quite as definite an end
is put to this waste, however, when one party has
## p. 207 (#229) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 207
become decidedly weaker than the other. Subjec-
tion enters and law ceases, but the result is the
same as that attained by law. For now it is the
wisdom of the superior which advises to spare the
inferior and not uselessly to squander his strength.
Thus the position of the inferior is often more fav-
ourable than that of the equal. —Hence legal con-
ditions are temporary means counselled by wisdom,
and not ends.
27.
Explanation of Malicious Joy. —Malicious
joy arises when a man consciously finds himself
in evil plight and feels anxiety or remorse or pain.
The misfortune that overtakes B. makes him equal
to A. , and A. is reconciled and no longer envious.
—If A. is prosperous, he still hoards up in his
memory B. 's misfortune as a capital, so as to throw
it in the scale as a counter-weight when he him-
self suffers adversity. In this case too he feels
"malicious joy" {Schadenfreude). The sentiment
of equality thus applies its standard to the domain
of luck and chance. Malicious joy is the commonest
expression of victory and restoration of equality,
even in a higher state of civilisation. This emotion
has only been in existence since the time when
man learnt to look upon another as his equal—in
other words, since the foundation of society.
28.
The Arbitrary Element in the Award of
Punishment. — To most criminals punishment
## p. 208 (#230) ############################################
208 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
comes just as illegitimate children come to women.
They have done the same thing a hundred times
without any bad consequences. Suddenly comes
discovery, and with discovery punishment. Yet
habit should make the deed for which the
criminal is punished appear more excusable, for he
has developed a propensity that is hard to resist
.
Instead of this, the criminal is punished more
severely if the suspicion of habitual crime rests on
him, and habit is made a valid reason against all
extenuation. On the other hand, a model life,
wherein crime shows up in more terrible contrast,
should make the guilt appear more heavy! But
here the custom is to soften the punishment.
Everything is measured not from the standpoint
of the criminal but from that of society and its
losses and dangers. The previous utility of an
individual is weighed against his one nefarious
action, his previous criminality is added to that
recently discovered, and punishment is thus meted
out as highly as possible. But if we thus punish or
reward a man's past (for in the former case the
diminution of punishment is a reward) we ought
to go farther back and punish and reward the
cause of his past—I mean parents, teachers, society.
In many instances we shall then find the judges
somehow or other sharing in the guilt. It is ar-
bitrary to stop at the criminal himself when we
punish his past: if we will not grant the absolute
excusability of every crime, we should stop at each
individual case and probe no farther into the past
—in other words, isolate guilt and not connect it
with previous actions. Otherwise we sin against
## p. 209 (#231) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 209
logic. The teachers of free will should draw the
inevitable conclusion from their doctrine of " free
will" and boldly decree: "No action has a past. "
29.
Envy and her Nobler Sister. — Where J
equality is really recognised and permanently es-
tablished, we see the rise of that propensity that is
generally considered immoral, and would scarcely
be conceivable in a state of nature—envy. The
envious man is susceptible to every sign of in-
dividual superiority to the common herd, and
wishes to depress every one once more to the level
—or raise himself to the superior plane. Hence
arise two different modes of action, which Hesiod
designated good and bad Eris. In the same way,
in a condition of equality there arises indignation
if A. is prosperous above and B. unfortunate beneath
their deserts and equality. These latter, however,
are emotions of nobler natures. They feel the
want of justice and equity in things that are in-
dependent of the arbitrary choice of men—or, in
other words, they desire the equality recognised by
man to be recognised as well by Nature and
chance. They are angry that men of equal merits
should not have equal fortune.
30.
The Envy of the Gods. —" The envy of the
Gods" arises when a despised person sets himself
on an equality with his superior (like Ajax), or is
made equal with him by the favour of fortune
## p. 210 (#232) ############################################
2IO HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
(like Niobe, the too favoured mother). In the
social class system this envy demands that no one
shall have merits above his station, that his pros-
perity shall be on a level with his position, and
especially that his self-consciousness shall not out-
grow the limits of his rank. Often the victorious
general, or the pupil who achieves a masterpiece,
has experienced "the envy of the gods. "
3i-
Vanity as an Anti-Social Aftergrowth. —
if
As men, for the sake of security, have made them-
selves equal in order to found communities, but
as also this conception is imposed by a sort of
constraint and is entirely opposed to the instincts
of the individual, so, the more universal security is
guaranteed, the more do new offshoots of the old
instinct for predominance appear. Such offshoots
appear in the setting-up of class distinctions, in the
demand for professional dignities and privileges,
and, generally speaking, in vanity (manners, dress,
speech, and so forth). So soon as danger to the
community is apparent, the majority, who were
unable to assert their preponderance in a time of
universal peace, once more bring about the condi-
tion of equality, and for the time being the absurd
privileges and vanities disappear. If the community,
however, collapses utterly and anarchy reigns su-
preme, there arises the state of nature: an ab-
solutely ruthless inequality as recounted by Thucy-
dides in the case of Corcyra. Neither a natural
justice nor a natural injustice exists.
## p. 211 (#233) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 211
32.
EQUITy. —Equity is a development of justice,
and arises among such as do not come into conflict
with the communal equality. This more subtle
recognition of the principle of equilibrium is ap-
plied to cases where nothing is prescribed by law.
Equity looks forwards and backwards, its maxim
being, "Do unto others as you would that they
should do unto you. " Aequum means: "This
principle is conformable to our equality; it tones
down even our small differences to an appearance
of equality, and expects us to be indulgent in
cases where we are not compelled to pardon. "
33-
Elements of Revenge. —The word " revenge"
is spoken so quickly that it almost seems as if it
could not contain more than one conceptual and
emotional root. Hence we are still at pains to find
this root. Our economists, in the same way, have
never wearied of scenting a similar unity in the
word "value," and of hunting after the primitive root
idea of value. As if all words were not pockets,
into which this or that or several things have been
stuffed at once! So "revenge" is now one thing,
now another, and sometimes more composite. Let
us first distinguish that defensive counter-blow,
which we strike, almost unconsciously, even at in-
animate objects (such as machinery in motion) that
have hurt us. The notion is to set a check to the
object that has hurt us, by bringing the machine to
## p. 212 (#234) ############################################
212 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
a stop. Sometimes the force of this counter-blow,
in order to attain its object, will have to be strong
enough to shatter the machine. If the machine be
too strong to be disorganised by one man, the latter
will all the same strike the most violent blow he can
—as a sort of last attempt. We behave similarly
towards persons who hurt us, at the immediate sen-
sation of the hurt. If we like to call this an act of
revenge, well and good: but we must remember that
here self-preservation alone has set its cog-wheels
of reason in motion, and that after all we do not
think of the doer of the injury but only of ourselves.
We act without any idea of doing injury in return,
only with a view to getting away safe and sound.
—It needs time to pass in thought from oneself to
one's adversary and ask oneself at what point he is
most vulnerable. This is done in the second variety
of revenge, the preliminary idea of which is to con-
sider the vulnerability and susceptibility of the other.
The intention then is to give pain. On the other
hand, the idea of securing himself against further
injury is in this case so entirely outside the avenger's
horizon, that he almost regularly brings about his
own further injury and often foresees it in cold
blood. If in the first sort of revenge it was the
fear of a second blow that made the counter-blow
as strong as possible, in this case there is an almost
complete indifference to what one's adversary will
do: the strength of the counter-blow is only deter-
mined by what he has already done to us. Then
what has he done? What profit is it to us if he
is now suffering, after we have suffered through
him? This is a case of readjustment, whereas the
## p. 213 (#235) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 213
first act of revenge only serves the purpose of self-
preservation. It may be that through our adver-
sary we have lost property, rank, friends, children
—these losses are not recovered by revenge, the
readjustment only concerns a subsidiary loss which
is added to all the other losses. The revenge of
readjustment does not preserve one from further
injury, it does not make good the injury already
suffered—except in one case. If our honour has
suffered through our adversary, revenge can restore
it. But in any case honour has suffered an injury
if intentional harm has been done us, because our
adversary proved thereby that he was not afraid of
us. By revenge we prove that we are not afraid of
him either, and herein lies the settlement, the read-
justment. (The intention of showing their complete
lack of fear goes so far in some people that the
dangers of revenge—loss of health or life or other
losses—are in their eyes an indispensable condition
of every vengeful act. Hence they practise the duel,
although the law also offers them aid in obtaining
satisfaction for what they have suffered. They are
not satisfied with a safe means of recovering their
honour, because this would not prove their fearless-
ness. )—In the first-named variety of revenge it is
just fear that strikes the counter-blow; in the second
case it is the absence of fear, which, as has been said,
wishes to manifest itself in the counter-blow. —Thus
nothing appears more different than the motives of
the two courses of action which are designated by the
one word "revenge. " Yet it often happens that the
avenger is not precisely certain as to what really
prompted his deed: perhaps he struck the counter-
## p. 213 (#236) ############################################
212
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
a stop. Sometimes the force of this counter-blow,
in order to attain its object, will have to be strong
enough to shatter the machine. If the machine be
too strong to be disorganised by one man, the latter
will all the same strike the most violent blow he can
—as a sort of last attempt. We behave similarly
towards persons who hurt us, at the immediate sen-
sation of the hurt. If we like to call this an act of
revenge, well and good: but we must remember that
here self-preservation alone has set its cog-wheels
of reason in motion, and that after all we do not
think of the doer of the injury but only of ourselves.
We act without any idea of doing injury in return,
only with a view to getting away safe and sound.
- It needs time to pass in thought from oneself to
one's adversary and ask oneself at what point he is
most vulnerable. This is done in the second variety
of revenge, the preliminary idea of which is to con-
sider the vulnerability and susceptibility of the other.
The intention then is to give pain. On the other
hand, the idea of securing himself against further
injury is in this case so entirely outside the avenger's
horizon, that he almost regularly brings about his
own further injury and often foresees it in cold
blood. If in the first sort of revenge it was the
fear of a second blow that made the counter-blow
as strong as possible, in this case there is an almost
complete indifference to what one's adversary will
do: the strength of the counter-blow is only deter-
mined by what he has already done to us. Then
what has he done? What profit is it to us if he
is now suffering, after we have suffered through
him? This is a case of readjustment, whereas the
## p. 213 (#237) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
213
first act of revenge only serves the purpose of self-
preservation. It may be that through our adver-
sary we have lost property, rank, friends, children
—these losses are not recovered by revenge, the
readjustment only concerns a subsidiary loss which
is added to all the other losses. The revenge of
readjustment does not preserve one from further
injury, it does not make good the injury already
suffered—except in one case. If our honour has
suffered through our adversary, revenge can restore
it. But in any case honour has suffered an injury
if intentional harm has been done us, because our
adversary proved thereby that he was not afraid of
us. By revenge we prove that we are not afraid of
him either, and herein lies the settlement, the read-
justment. (The intention of showing their complete
lack of fear goes so far in some people that the
dangers of revenge-loss of health or life or other
losses—are in their eyes an indispensable condition
of every vengeful act. Hence they practise the duel,
although the law also offers them aid in obtaining
satisfaction for what they have suffered. They are
not satisfied with a safe means of recovering their
honour, because this would not prove their fearless-
ness. )—In the first-named variety of revenge it is
just fear that strikes the counter-blow; in the second
case it is the absence of fear, which, as has been said,
wishes to manifest itself in the counter-blow. —Thus
nothing appears more different than the motives of
the two courses of action which are designated by the
one word “revenge. " Yet it often happens that the
avenger is not precisely certain as to what really
prompted his deed : perhaps he struck the counter-
## p. 213 (#238) ############################################
212
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
a stop. Sometimes the force of this counter-blow,
in order to attain its object, will have to be strong
enough to shatter the machine. If the machine be
too strong to be disorganised by one man, the latter
will all the same strike the most violent blow he can
-as a sort of last attempt. We behave similarly
towards persons who hurt us, at the immediate sen-
sation of the hurt. If we like to call this an act of
revenge, well and good: but we must remember that
here self-preservation alone has set its cog-wheels
of reason in motion, and that after all we do not
think of the doer of the injury but only of ourselves.
We act without any idea of doing injury in return,
only with a view to getting away safe and sound.
-It needs time to pass in thought from oneself to
one's adversary and ask oneself at what point he is
most vulnerable. This is done in the second variety
of revenge, the preliminary idea of which is to con-
sider the vulnerability and susceptibility of the other.
The intention then is to give pain. On the other
hand, the idea of securing himself against further
injury is in this case so entirely outside the avenger's
horizon, that he almost regularly brings about his
own further injury and often foresees it in cold
blood. If in the first sort of revenge it was the
fear of a second blow that made the counter-blow
as strong as possible, in this case there is an almost
complete indifference to what one's adversary will
do: the strength of the counter-blow is only deter-
mined by what he has already done to us. Then
what has he done? What profit is it to us if he
is now suffering, after we have suffered through
him? This is a case of readjustment, whereas the
## p. 213 (#239) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
213
first act of revenge only serves the purpose of self-
preservation. It may be that through our adver-
sary we have lost property, rank, friends, children
—these losses are not recovered by revenge, the
readjustment only concerns a subsidiary loss which
is added to all the other losses. The revenge of
readjustment does not preserve one from further
injury, it does not make good the injury already
suffered-except in one case. If our honour has
suffered through our adversary, revenge can restore
it. But in any case honour has suffered an injury
if intentional harm has been done us, because our
adversary proved thereby that he was not afraid of
us. By revenge we prove that we are not afraid of
him either, and herein lies the settlement, the read-
justment. (The intention of showing their complete
lack of fear goes so far in some people that the
dangers of revenge-loss of health or life or other
losses—are in their eyes an indispensable condition
of every vengeful act. Hence they practise the duel,
although the law also offers them aid in obtaining
satisfaction for what they have suffered. They are
not satisfied with a safe means of recovering their
honour, because this would not prove their fearless-
ness. )- In the first-named variety of revenge it is
just fear that strikes the counter-blow; in the second
case it is the absence of fear, which, as has been said,
wishes to manifest itself in the counter-blow. Thus
nothing appears more different than the motives of
the two courses of action which are designated by the
one word “revenge. ” Yet it often happens that the
avenger is not precisely certain as to what really
prompted his deed : perhaps he struck the counter-
## p. 213 (#240) ############################################
212
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
a stop. Sometimes the force of this counter-blow,
in order to attain its object, will have to be strong
enough to shatter the machine. If the machine be
too strong to be disorganised by one man, the latter
will all the same strike the most violent blow he can
-as a sort of last attempt. We behave similarly
towards persons who hurt us, at the immediate sen-
sation of the hurt. If we like to call this an act of
revenge, well and good: but we must remember that
here self-preservation alone has set its cog-wheels
of reason in motion, and that after all we do not
think of the doer of the injury but only of ourselves.
We act without any idea of doing injury in return,
only with a view to getting away safe and sound.
-It needs time to pass in thought from oneself to
one's adversary and ask oneself at what point he is
most vulnerable. This is done in the second variety
of revenge, the preliminary idea of which is to con-
sider the vulnerability and susceptibility of the other.
The intention then is to give pain. On the other
hand, the idea of securing himself against further
injury is in this case so entirely outside the avenger's
horizon, that he almost regularly brings about his
own further injury and often foresees it in cold
blood. If in the first sort of revenge it was the
fear of a second blow that made the counter-blow
as strong as possible, in this case there is an almost
complete indifference to what one's adversary will
do: the strength of the counter-blow is only deter-
mined by what he has already done to us. Then
what has he done? What profit is it to us if he
is now suffering, after we have suffered through
him? This is a case of readjustment, whereas the
## p. 213 (#241) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
213
first act of revenge only serves the purpose of self-
preservation.
