No More Learning

Being Misunderstood. —When one is mis-
understood generally, it is impossible to remove a
particular misunderstanding. This point must be
recognised,tosave superfluous expenditure of energy
in self-defence.
347-
The Water-Drinker Speaks. —Go on drink-
ing your wine, which has refreshed you all your life
—what affair is it of yours if I have to be a water-
drinker? Are not wine and water peaceable,
brotherly elements, that can live side by side with-
out mutual recriminations?
348.
From Cannibal Country. —In solitude the v/
lonely man is eaten up by himself, among crowds
by the many. Choose which you prefer.


## p. 166 (#188) ############################################

166 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
<LlJ-r»~
356.
Uses of Sickliness. —He who is often ill not
only has a far greater pleasure in health, on account
of his so often getting well, but acquires a very keen
sense of what is healthy or sickly in actions and
achievements, both his own and others'. Thus, for
example, it is just the writers of uncertain health—
among whom, unfortunately, nearly all great writers
must be classed—who are wont to have a far more
even and assured tone of health in their writings,
because they are better versed than are the physi-
cally robust in the philosophy of psychical health
and convalescence and in their teachers—morning,
sunshine, forest, and fountain.
357-
Disloyalty a Condition of Mastery. —It
cannot be helped—every master has but one pupil,
and he becomes disloyal to him, for he also is des-
tined for mastery.
358.
NEVER IN VAIN. —In the mountains of truth you
never climb in vain. Either you already reach a
higher point to-day, or you exercise your strength
in order to be able to climb higher to-morrow.
359-
Through Grey Window-Panes. —Is what you
see through this window of the world so beautiful
that you do not wish to look through any other


## p. 167 (#189) ############################################

MISCELLANEOUS MAXIMS AND OPINIONS. 167
window—ay, and even try to prevent others from
so doing?
360.
A Sign of Radical Changes. — When we
dream of persons long forgotten or dead, it is a
sign that we have suffered radical changes, and
that the soil on which we live has been completely
undermined. The dead rise again, and our antiquity
becomes modernity.
361.
Medicine of the Soul. —To lie still and think
little is the cheapest medicine for all diseases of
the soul, and, with the aid of good-will, becomes
pleasanter every hour that it is used.
362.
Intellectual Order of Precedence. —You
rank far below others when you try to establish the
exception and they the rule.
363-
The Fatalist. — You must believe in fate—
science can compel you thereto. All that develops
in you out of that belief—cowardice, devotion or
loftiness, and uprightness—bears witness to the soil
in which the grain was sown, but not to the grain
itself, for from that seed anything and everything
can grow.
364.
The Reason for Much Fretfulness. —He
that prefers the beautiful to the useful in life will


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168 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
J
undoubtedly, like children who prefer sweetmeats
to bread, destroy his digestion and acquire a very
fretful outlook on the world.
365-
Excess as A Remedy. —tyVe can make our own
talent once more acceptable to ourselves by hon-
ouring and enjoying the opposite talent for some
time to excess. —Using excess as a remedy is one
of the more refined devices in the art of life. I
366.
"Will a Self. "—Active, successful natures act,
not according to the maxim, " Know thyself," but
as if always confronted with the command, "Will
a self, so you will become a self. "—Fate seems
always to have left them a choice. Inactive, con-
templative natures, on the other hand, reflect on
how they have chosen their self "once for all" at
their entry into life.
367-
To Live as Far as Possible without a
FOLLOWINg. —How small is the importance of
followers we first grasp when we have ceased to be
the followers of our followers.
368.
Obscuring Oneself. —We must understand
how to obscure ourselves in order to get rid of the
gnat-swarms of pestering admirers.


## p. 169 (#191) ############################################

MISCELLANEOUS MAXIMS AND OPINIONS. 169
369-
ENNUI. —There is an ennui of the most subtle
and cultured brains, to which the best that the
world can offer has become stale. Accustomed to
eat ever more and more recherche" fare and to feel
disgust at coarser diet, they are in danger of dying
of hunger. For the very best exists but in small
quantities, and has sometimes become inaccessible
or hard as stone, so that even good teeth can no
longer bite it.
370.
The Danger in Admiration. —The admira-
tion of a quality or of an art may be so strong as to
deter us from aspiring to possess that quality or art.
371-
What is Required of Art. —One man wants
to enjoy himself by means of art, another for a time
to get out of or above himself. —To meet both re-
quirements there exists a twofold species of artists.
372.
Secessions. —Whoever secedes from us offends
not us, perhaps, but certainly our adherents.
373-
After Death. —It is only long after the death
of a man that we find it inconceivable that he should
be missed—in the case of really great men, only after
decades. Those who are honest usually think when


## p. 170 (#192) ############################################

170
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
any one dies that he is not much missed, and that
the pompous funeral oration is a piece of hypocrisy.
Necessity first teaches the necessariness of an in-
dividual, and the proper epitaph is a belated sigh.
374.
LEAVING IN HADES. — We must leave many
things in the Hades of half-conscious feeling, and
not try to release them from their shadow-existence,
or else they will become, as thoughts and words, our
demoniacal tyrants, with cruel lust after our blood.
375.
NEAR TO BEGGARY. —Even the richest intellect
sometimes mislays the key to the room in which his
hoarded treasures repose. He is then like the poorest
of the poor, who must beg to get a living.
376.
CHAIN-THINKERS. —To him who has thought a
great deal, every new thought that he hears or reads
at once assumes the form of a chain.
377.
Pity. In the gilded sheath of pity is sometimes
hidden the dagger of envy.
378.
WHAT IS GENIUS ? -To aspire to a lofty aim and
to will the means to that aim.


## p. 171 (#193) ############################################

MISCELLANEOUS MAXIMS AND OPINIONS. 171
379-
Vanity of Combatants. —He who has no hope
of victory in a combat, or who is obviously worsted,
is all the more desirous that his style of fighting
should be admired.
380.
The Philosophic Life Misinterpreted. —At
the moment when one is beginning to take philo-
sophy seriously, the whole world fancies that one is
doing the reverse.
381.
Imitation. —By imitation, the bad gains, the
good loses credit—especially in art.
382.
Final Teaching of History. —" Oh that I had
but lived in those times! " is the exclamation of
foolish and frivolous men. At every period of
history that we seriously review, even if it be the
most belauded era of the past, we shall rather cry
out at the end, "Anything but a return to that!
The spirit of that age would oppress you with the
weight of a hundred atmospheres, the good and
beautiful in it you would not enjoy, its evil you
could not digest. " Depend upon it, posterity will
pass the same verdict on our own epoch, and say
that it was unbearable, that life under such condi-
tions was intolerable. "And yet every one can
endure his own times? " Yes, because the spirit of


## p. 172 (#194) ############################################

172 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
his age not only lies upon him but is in him. The
spirit of the age offers resistance to itself and can
bear itself.
383.
Greatness as a Mask. —By greatness in our
comportment we embitter our foes: by envy that we
do not conceal we almost reconcile them to us. For
envy levels and makes equal; it is an unconscious,
plaintive variety of modesty. —It may be indeed that
here and there, for the sake of the above-named
advantage, envy has been assumed as a mask by
those who are not envious. Certainly, however,
greatness in comportment is often used as the mask
of envy by ambitious men who would rather suffer
drawbacks and embitter their foes than let it be seen
that they place them on an equal footing with them-
selves.
384-
y Unpardonable. —You gave him an opportunity
of displaying the greatness of his character, and he
did not make use of the opportunity. He will never
forgive you for that.
385-
CONTRASTS. —The most senile thought ever con-
ceived about men lies in the famous saying, "The
ego is always hateful," the most childish in the still
more famous saying, " Love thy neighbour as thy-
self. "—With the one knowledge'of men has ceased,
with the other it has not yet begun.


## p. 173 (#195) ############################################

MISCELLANEOUS MAXIMS AND OPINIONS. 173
386.
A Defective Ear. —"We still belong to the
mob so long as we always shift the blame on to
others; we are on the track of wisdom when we
always make ourselves alone responsible; but the
wise man finds no one to blame, neither himself nor
others. "—Who said that? Epictetus, eighteen hun-
dred years ago. —The world has heard but forgotten
the saying. —No, the world has not heard and not
forgotten it: everything is not forgotten. But we
had not the necessary ear, the ear of Epictetus. —
So he whispered it into his own ear ? —Even so: wis-
dom is the whispering of the sage to himself in the
crowded market-place.
387-
A Defect of Standpoint, not of Vision. —
We always stand a few paces too near ourselves
and a few paces too far from our neighbour. Hence
we judge him too much in the lump, and ourselves
too much by individual, occasional, insignificant
features and circumstances.
388.
Ignorance about Weapons. —How little we
care whether another knows a subject or not ! —
whereas he perhaps sweats blood at the bare idea
that he may be considered ignorant on the point.
Yes, there are exquisite fools, who always go about
with a quiverful of mighty, excommunicatory utter-
ances, ready-to shoot down any one who shows
freely that there are matters in which their judg-
ment is not taken into acccount.


## p. 174 (#196) ############################################

174 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
389.
/ At the Drinking-Table of Experience. —
People whose innate moderation leads them to
drink but the half of every glass, will not admit
that everything in the world has its lees and sedi-
ment.
390.
Singing-Birds,—The followers of a great man
often put their own eyes out, so that they may be
the better able to sing his praise.
391-
Beyond our Ken. —The good generally dis-
pleases us when it is beyond our ken.
392.
Rule as Mother or as Child. —There is one
condition that gives birth to rules, another to which
rules give birth.
393-
COMEDy. —We sometimes earn honour or love
for actions and achievements which we have long
since sloughed as the snake sloughs his skin. We
are hereby easily seduced into becoming the comic
actors of our own past, and into throwing the old
skin once more about our shoulders—and that not
merely from vanity, but from good-will towards our
admirers.
394-
A Mistake of Biographers. —The small force
that is required to launch a boat into the stream


## p. 175 (#197) ############################################

MISCELLANEOUS MAXIMS AND OPINIONS. 175
must not be confounded with the force of the
stream that carries the boat along. Yet this mis-
take is made in nearly all biographies.
395-
Not Buying too Dear. —The things that we
buy too dear we generally turn to bad use, because
we have no love for them but only a painful recol-
lection. Thus they involve a twofold drawback.
396.
The Philosophy that Society always
Needs. —The pillars of the social structure rest
upon the fundamental fact that every one cheer-
fully contemplates all that he is, does, and attempts,
his sickness or health, his poverty or affluence, his
honour or insignificance, and says to himself,
"After all, I would not change places with any
one! "—Whoever wishes to add a stone to the
social structure should always try to implant in
mankind this cheerful philosophy of contentment
and refusal to change places.
397-
The Mark of a Noble Soul. —A noble soul
is not that which is capable of the highest flights,
but that which rises little and falls little, living
always in a free and bright atmosphere and altitude
398.
Greatness and its Contemplator. —The
noblest effect of greatness is that it gives the con-


## p. 176 (#198) ############################################

176 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
templator a power of vision that magnifies and em-
bellishes.
399-
Being Satisfied. — We show that we have
attained maturity of understanding when we no
longer go where rare flowers lurk under the thorniest
hedges of knowledge, but are satisfied with gardens,
forests, meadows, and ploughlands, remembering
that life is too short for the rare and uncommon.
400.
Advantage in Privation. —He who always
lives in the warmth and fulness of the heart, and,
as it were, in the summer air of the soul, cannot form
an idea of that fearful delight which seizes more
wintry natures, who for once in a way are kissed
by the rays of love and the milder breath of a
sunny February day.
401.
Recipe for the Sufferer. — You find the
burden of life too heavy? Then you must increase
the burden of your life. When the sufferer finally
thirsts after and seeks the river of Lethe, then he
must become a hero to be certain of finding it.
402.
The Judge. —He who has seen another's ideal
becomes his inexorable judge, and as it were his
evil conscience.
403-
The Utility of Great Renunciation. —The
useful thing about great renunciation is that it in-


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MISCELLANEOUS MAXIMS AND OPINIONS. 177
vests us with that youthful pride through which we
can thenceforth easily demand of ourselves small
renunciations.
404.
How Duty Acquires a Glamour.
—You can
change a brazen duty into gold in the eyes of all
by always performing something more than you
have promised.
405.
Prayer to Mankind. —"Forgive us our virtues"
—so should we pray to mankind.
406.
They that Create and They that Enjoy.
—Every one who enjoys thinks that the principal
thing to the tree is the fruit, but in point of fact
the principal thing to it is the seed. —Herein lies
the difference between them that create and them
that enjoy.
407.
The Glory of all Great Men. —What is the
use of genius if it does not invest him who contem-
plates and reveres it with such freedom and lofti-
ness of feeling that he no longer has need of genius?
—To make themselves superfluous is the glory of
all great men.
408.
The Journey to Hades. —I too have been in
the underworld, even as Odysseus, and I shall often
be there again. Not sheep alone have I sacrificed,
VOL. 11. M


## p. 178 (#200) ############################################

178 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
that I might be able to converse with a few dead
souls, but not even my own blood have I spared.
There were four pairs who responded to me in my
sacrifice: Epicurus and Montaigne, Goethe and
Spinoza, Plato and Rousseau, Pascal and Schopen-
hauer. With them I have to come to terms. When
I have long wandered alone, I will let them prove
me right or wrong; to them will I listen, if they
prove each other right or wrong. In all that I say,
conclude, or think out for myself and others, I
fasten my eyes on those eight and see their eyes
fastened on mine. —May the living forgive me if I
look upon them at times as shadows, so pale and
fretful, so restless and, alas! so eager for life. Those
eight, on the other hand, seem to me so living that
I feel as if even now, after their death, they could
never become weary of life. But eternal vigour of
life is the important point: what matters "eternal
life," or indeed life at all?


## p. 179 (#201) ############################################

PART II.
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.


## p. 180 (#202) ############################################



## p. 181 (#203) ############################################

THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
The Shadow. It is so long since I heard you
speak that I should like to give you an opportunity
of talking.
The Wanderer: I hear a voice—where? whose?
I almost fancied that 1 heard myself speaking, but
with a voice yet weaker than my own.
The Shadow (after a pause): Are you not glad
to have an opportunity of speaking?
The Wanderer: By God and everything else in
which I disbelieve, it is my shadow that speaks. I
hear it, but I do not believe it.
The Shadow: Let us assume that it exists, and
think no more about it. In another hour all will be
over.
The Wanderer: That is just what I thought
when in a forest near Pisa I saw first two and then
five camels.
The Shadow: It is all the better if we are both
equally forbearing towards each other when for once
our reason is silent. Thus we shall avoid losing our
tempers in conversation, and shall not at once apply
mutual thumb-screws in the event of any word
sounding for once unintelligible to us. If one does
not know exactly how to answer, it is enough to


## p. 182 (#204) ############################################

182 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
say something. Those are the reasonable terms on
which I hold conversation with any person. During
a long talk the wisest of men becomes a fool once
and a simpleton thrice.
The Wanderer: Your moderation is not flatter-
ing to those to whom you confess it.
The Shadow: Am I, then, to flatter?
The Wanderer: I thought a man's shadow was
his vanity. Surely vanity would never say, "Am
I, then, to flatter? "
The Shadow: Nor does human vanity, so far as
I am acquainted with it, ask, as I have done twice,
zuhether it may speak. It simply speaks.
The Wanderer: Now I see for the first time how
rude I am to you, my beloved shadow. I have not
said a word of my supreme delight in hearing and
not merely seeing you. You must know that I love
shadows even as I love light. For the existence of
beauty of face, clearness of speech, kindliness and
firmness of character, the shadow is as necessary
as the light. They are not opponents—rather do
they hold each other's hands like good friends; and
when the light vanishes, the shadow glides after it.
The Shadow: Yes, and I hate the same thing
that you hate—night. I love men because they are
votaries of life. I rejoice in the gleam of their eyes
when they recognise and discover, they who never
weary of recognising and discovering. That
shadow which all things cast when the sunshine
of knowledge falls upon them—that shadow too
am I.
The Wanderer: I think I understand you, al-
though you have expressed yourself in somewhat


## p. 183 (#205) ############################################

THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 183
shadowy terms. You are right. Good friends give
to each other here and there, as a sign of mutual
understanding, an obscure phrase which to any third
party is meant to be a riddle. And we are good
friends, you and I. So enough of preambles! Some
few hundred questions oppress my soul, and the time
for you to answer them is perchance but short. Let
us see how we may come to an understanding as
quickly and peaceably as possible.
The Shadow: But shadows are more shy than
men. You will not reveal to any man the manner
of our conversation?
The Wanderer: The manner of our conversation?
Heaven preserve me from wire-drawn, literary dia-
logues! If Plato had found less pleasure in spin-
ning them out, his readers would have found more
pleasure in Plato. A dialogue that in real life is
a source of delight, when turned into writing and
read, is a picture with nothing but false perspectives.
Everything is too long or too short. —Yet perhaps
I may reveal the points on which we have come to
an understanding?
The Shadow: With that I am content. For
every one will only recognise your views once more,
and no one will think of the shadow.
The Wanderer: Perhaps you are wrong, my
friend! Hitherto they have observed in my views
more of the shadow than of me.
The Shadow: More of the shadow than of the
light? Is that possible?
The Wanderer: Be serious, dear fool! My very
first question demands seriousness.


## p. 184 (#206) ############################################

184 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Of the Tree of Knowledge. —Probability,
but no truth; the semblance of freedom, but no free-
dom—these are the two fruits by virtue of which the
tree of knowledge cannot be confounded with the
tree of life.
The World's Reason. —That the world is not
the abstract essence of an eternal reasonableness is
sufficiently proved by the fact that that bit of the
-world which we know—I mean our human reason—
is none too reasonable. And if this is not eternally
and wholly wise and reasonable, the rest of the world
will not be so either. Here the conclusion a minori
ad majus, a parte ad totum holds good, and that
with decisive force.
3-
"In the Beginning was. "—To glorify the
origin—that is the metaphysical after-shoot which
sprouts again at the contemplation of history, and
absolutely makes us imagine that in the beginning of
things lies all that is most valuable and essential.
4-
Standard for the Value of Truth. —The
difficulty of climbing mountains is no gauge of their
height. Yet in the case of science it is different! —
we are told by certain persons who wish to be con-
sidered "the initiated,"—the difficulty in finding


## p. 185 (#207) ############################################

THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 185
truth is to determine the value of truth! This in-
sane iiorality originates in the idea that" truths " are
really nothing more than gymnastic appliances, with
which we have to exercise ourselves until we are
thoroughly tired. It is a morality for the athletes
and gymnasts of the intellect.
5-
Use of Words and Reality. —There exists
a simulated contempt for all the things that man-
kind actually holds most important, for all everyday
matters. For instance, we say "we only eat to live"
—an abominable lie, like that which speaks of the
procreation of children as the real purpose of all
sexual pleasure. Conversely, the reverence for " the
most important things " is hardly ever quite genuine.
The priests and metaphysicians have indeed accus-
tomed us to a hypocritically exaggerated use of
words regarding these matters, but they have not
altered the feeling that these most important things
are not so important as those despised "everyday
matters. " A fatal consequence of this twofold hypo-
crisy is that we never make these everyday matters
(such as eating, housing, clothes, and intercourse)
the object of a constant unprejudiced and universal.
reflection and revision, but, as such a process appears
degrading, we divert from them our serious intel-
lectual and artistic side. Hence in such matters
habit and frivolity win an easy victory over the
thoughtless, especially over inexperienced youth.
On theother hand, our continual transgressions of the
simplest laws of body and mind reduce us all, young


## p. 186 (#208) ############################################

186 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and old, to a disgraceful state of dependence and
servitude—I mean to that fundamentally super-
fluous dependence upon physicians, teachers and
clergymen, whose dead-weight still lies heavy upon
the whole of society.
6.
Earthly Infirmities and their Main Cause.
—If we look about us, we are always coming across
men who have eaten eggs all their lives without ob-
serving that theoblong-shaped taste the best; whodo
not know that a thunder-storm is beneficial to the
stomach; that perfumes are most fragrant in cold,
clear air; that our sense of taste varies in different
parts of our mouths; that every meal at which we
talk well or listen well does harm to the digestion.
If we are not satisfied with these examples of de-
fective powers of observation, we shall concede all
the more readily that the everyday matters are
very imperfectly seen and rarely observed by the
majority. Is this a matter of indifference ? —Let us
remember, after all, that from this defect are derived
nearly all the bodily and spiritual infirmities of the
individual. Ignorance of what is good and bad for
us, in the arrangement of our mode of life, the division
of our day, the selection of our friends and the time
we devote to them, in business and leisure, com-
manding and obeying, our feeling for nature and for
art, our eating, sleeping, and meditation; ignorance
and lack of keen perceptions in the smallest and most
ordinary details—this it is that makes the world "a
vale of tears " for so many. Let us not say that here


## p. 187 (#209) ############################################

THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 187
as everywhere the fault lies with human unreason.
Of reason there is enough and to spare, hut it is
wrongly directed and artificially diverted from these
little intimate things. Priests and teachers, and the
sublime ambition of all idealists, coarser and subtler,
din it even into the child's ears that the means of
serving mankind at large depend upon altogether
different things—upon the salvation of the soul, the
service of the State, the advancement of science, or
even upon social position and property; whereas the
needs of the individual, his requirements great and
small during the twenty-four hours of the day, are
quite paltry or indifferent. —Even Socrates attacked
with all his might this arrogant neglect of the human
for the benefit of humanity, and loved to indicate by
a quotation from Homer the true sphere and con-
ception of all anxiety and reflection: " All that really
matters," he said, "is the good and evil hap I find
at home. "
Two Means of Consolation. —Epicurus, the
soul-comforter of later antiquity, said, with that mar-
vellous insight which to this very day is so rarely to
be found, that for the calming of the spirit the solu-
tion of the final and ultimate theoretical problems is
by no means necessary. Hence, instead of raising a
barren and remote discussion of the final question,
whether the Gods existed, it sufficed him to say to
those who were tormented by " fear of the Gods ":
"If there are Gods, they do not concern themselves
with us. " The latter position is far stronger and


## p. 188 (#210) ############################################

188 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
more favourable, for, by conceding a few points to the
other, one makes him readier to listen and to take
to heart. But as soon as he sets about proving the
opposite (that the Gods do concern themselves with
us), into what thorny jungles of error must the poor
man fall, quite of his own accord, and without any
cunning on the part of his interlocutor! The latter
must only have enough subtlety and humanity to
conceal his sympathy with this tragedy. Finally,the
other comes to feel disgust—the strongest argument
against any proposition—disgust with his own hypo-
thesis. He becomes cold, and goes away in the same
frame of mind as the pure atheist who says, " What
do the Gods matter to me? The devil take them! "—
In other cases, especially when a half-physical, half-
moral assumption had cast a gloom over his spirit,
Epicurus did not refute the assumption. He agreed
that it might be true, but that there was a second
assumption to explain the same phenomenon, and
that it could perhaps be maintained in other ways.
The plurality of hypotheses (for example, that con-
cerning the origin of conscientious scruples) suffices
even in our time to remove from the soul the shadows
that arise so easily from pondering over a hypothesis
which is isolated, merely visible, and hence overvalued
a hundredfold. —Thus whoever wishes to console the
unfortunate, the criminal, the hypochondriac, the
dying, may call to mind the two soothing suggestions
of Epicurus, which can be applied to a great number
of problems. In their simplest form they would run:
firstly, granted the thing is so, it does not concern
us; secondly, the thing may be so, but it may also
be otherwise.


## p. 189 (#211) ############################################

THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 189
8.
In the NIgHT. —So soon as night begins to fall
our sensations concerning everyday matters are
altered. There is the wind, prowling as if on for-
bidden paths, whispering as if in search of some-
thing, fretting because he cannot find it. There is
the lamplight, with its dim red glow, its weary look,
unwillingly fighting against night, a sullen slave to
wakeful man. There are the breathings of the sleeper,
with their terrible rhythm, to which an ever-recur-
ring care seems to blow the trumpet-melody—we do
not hear it, but when the sleeper's bosom heaves we
feel our heart-strings tighten; and when the breath
sinks and almost dies away into a deathly stillness,
we say to ourselves, "Rest awhile, poor troubled
spirit! " All living creatures bear so great a burden
that we wish them an eternal rest; night invites to
death. —If human beings were deprived of the sun
and resisted night by means of moonlight and oil-
lamps, what a philosophy would cast its veil over
them! We already see only too plainly how a
shadow is thrown over the spiritual and intellectual
nature of man by that moiety of darkness and sun-
lessness that envelops life.
Origin of the Doctrine of Free Will. —
Necessity sways one man in the shape of his pas-
sions, another as a habit of hearing and obeying, a
third as a logical conscience, a fourth as a caprice
and a mischievous delight in evasions. These four,


## p. 190 (#212) ############################################

190 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
however, seek the freedom of their will at the very-
point where they are most securely fettered. It is
as if the silkworm sought freedom of will in spinning.
What is the reason? Clearly this, that every one
thinks himself most free where his vitality is strong-
est; hence, as I have said, now in passion, now in
duty, now in knowledge, now in caprice. A man un-
consciously imagines that where he is strong, where
he feels most thoroughly alive, the element of his
freedom must lie. He thinks of dependence and
apathy, independence and vivacity as forming in-
evitable pairs. —Thus an experience that a man
has undergone in the social and political sphere is
wrongly transferred to the ultimate metaphysical
sphere. There the strong man is also the free man,
there the vivid feeling of joy and sorrow, the high
hopes, the keen desires, the powerful hates are the
attributes of the ruling, independent natures, while
the thrall and the slave live in a state of dazed
oppression. —The doctrine of free will is an invention
of the ruling classes.
10.
Absence of Feeling of New Chains. —So
long as we do not feel that we are in some way de-
pendent, we consider ourselves independent—a false
conclusion that shows how proud man is, how eager
for dominion. For he hereby assumes that he would
always be sure to observe and recognise dependence
so soon as he suffered it, the preliminary hypothesis
being that he generally lives in independence, and
that, should he lose that independence for once in a
way, he would immediately detect a contrary sensa-


## p. 191 (#213) ############################################

THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 191
tion. —Suppose, however, the reverse to be true—
that he is always living in a complex state of depend-
ence, but thinks himself free where, through long
habit, he no longer feels the weight of the chain?
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


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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.