No More Learning

And how oft
are not all a man's subsequent literary perfon
ances but a sad result of this pedagogic origir.
sin against the intellect!
"Let us only think of what takes place at su<
an age in the production of such work. It is tl
first individual creation; the still undevelope
powers tend for the first time to crystallise; tr
staggering sensation produced by the demand fc
self-reliance imparts a seductive charm to thes
early performances, which is not only quite nev
but which never returns. All the daring of natur
is hauled out of its depths; all vanities—n<
longer constrained by mighty barriers—an
allowed for the first time to assume a literarj
form: the young man, from that time forward
feels as if he had reached his consummation as a
being not only able, but actually invited, to speak


## p. 53 (#73) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 53
and to converse. The subject he selects obliges
him either to express his judgment upon certain
poetical works, to class historical persons together
in a description of character, to discuss serious
ethical problems quite independently, or even to
turn the searchlight inwards, to throw its rays
upon his own development and to make a critical
report of himself: in short, a whole world of
reflection is spread out before the astonished young
man who, until then, had been almost unconscious,
and is delivered up to him to be judged.
"Now let us try to picture the teacher's usual
attitude towards these first highly influential
examples of original composition. What does
he hold to be most reprehensible in this class of
work? What does he call his pupil's attention
to? —To all excess in form or thought—that is
to say, to all that which, at their age, is essentially
characteristic and individual. Their really in-
dependent traits which, in response to this very
premature excitation, can manifest themselves only
in awkwardness, crudeness, and grotesque features,
—in short, their individuality is reproved and
rejected by the teacher in favour of an unoriginal
decent average. On,the other hand, uniform medio-
crity gets peevish praise; for, as a rule, it is just the
class of work likely to bore the teacher thoroughly.
"There may still be men who recognise a most
absurd and most dangerous element of the public
school curriculum in the whole farce of this
German composition. Originality is demanded
here: but the only shape in which it can manifest
itself is rejected, and the ' formal' education that


## p. 54 (#74) ##############################################

54 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
the system takes for granted is attained to on!
a very limited number of men who complete
a ripe age. ^Here everybody without except!
regarded as gifted for literature and consider*
capable of holding opinions concerning the
important questions and people, whereas the
aim which proper education should most zealo
strive to achieve would be the suppression ol
ridiculous claims to independent judgment,
the inculcation upon young men of obedienc
the sceptre of genius. Here a pompous forrj
diction is taught in an age when every spokei
written word is a piece of barbarism. Now lei
consider, besides, the danger of arousing the s
complacency which is so easily awakened in yout
let us think how their vanity must be flatte
when they see their literary reflection for the f.
time in the mirror. Who, having seen all th
effects at one glance, could any longer doi
whether all the faults of our public, literary, a
artistic life were not stamped upon every fre
generation by the system we are examining: has
and vain production, the disgraceful manufacture
books; complete want of style; the crude, characte
less, or sadly swaggering method of expression; tl
(loss of every aesthetic canon; the voluptuousne
of anarchy and chaos—in short, the literary pecu
arities of both our journalism and our scholarshi
"None but the very fewest are aware tha
among many thousands, perhaps only one
justified in describing himself as literary, an
that all others who at their own risk try to be s
deserve to be met with Homeric laughter by a.


## p. 55 (#75) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 55
competent men as a reward for every sentence
they have ever had printed;—for it is truly a
spectacle meet for the gods to see a literary
Hephaistos limping forward who would pretend
to help us to something. To educate men to
earnest and inexorable habits and views, in this
respect, should be the highest aim of all mental
training, whereas the general laisser aller of the
'fine personality' can be nothing else than the
hall-mark of barbarism. From what I have
said, however, it must be clear that, at least in
the teaching of German, no thought is given to
culture; something quite different is in view,—
namely, the production of the afore-mentioned ,»
'free personality. ' And so long as German
public schools prepare the road for outrageous
and irresponsible scribbling, so long as they do
not regard the immediate and practical discipline ,
of speaking and writing as their most holy duty, so I
long as they treat the mother-tongue as if it were 1
only a necessary evil or a dead body, I shall not )
regard these institutions as belonging to real culture. I
"In regard to the language, what is surely least
noticeable is any trace of the influence of classical
examples: that is why, on the strength of this
consideration alone, the so-called 'classical
education' which is supposed to be provided by
our public school, strikes me as something ex-
ceedingly doubtful and confused. For how could
anybody, after having cast one glance at those
examples, fail to see the great earnestness with
which the Greek and the Roman regarded and
treated his language, from his youth onwards,—
f


## p. 56 (#76) ##############################################

$6 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
how is it possible to mistake one's example
point like this one? —provided, of course,
the classical Hellenic and Roman world re
did hover before the educational plan of
public schools as the highest and most instruc
of all morals—a fact I feel very much inclinec
doubt. The claim put forward by public sch<
concerning the 'classical education' they prov
seems to be more an awkward evasion tl
anything else; it is used whenever there is a
question raised as to the competency of the put
schools to impart culture and to educate. Classi
education, indeed! It sounds so dignified!
confounds the aggressor and staves off the assault
for who could see to the bottom of this bewilderi;
formula all at once? And this has long been t
customary strategy of the public school: fro
whichever side the war-cry may come, it writ
upon its shield—not overloaded with honours-
one of those confusing catchwords, such a;
'classical education,' 'formal education,' 'scientif
education':—three glorious things which an
however, unhappily at loggerheads, not only wit
themselves but among themselves, and are suci
that, if they were compulsorily brought togethei
would perforce bring forth a culture-monster
For a ' classical education' is something so unhearc
of, difficult and rare, and exacts such complicatec
talent, that only ingenuousness or impudence
could put it forward as an attainable goal in out
public schools. The words: 'formal education'
belong to that crude kind of unphilosophical
phraseology which one should do one's utmost


## p. 57 (#77) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 57
to get rid of; for there is no such thing as 'the
opposite of formal education. ' And he who
regards 'scientific education' as the object of a
public school thereby sacrifices 'classical educa-
tion' and the so-called ' formal education/ at one
stroke, as the scientific man and the cultured
man belong to two different spheres which, though
coming together at times in the same individual,
are never reconciled.
"If we compare- all three of these would-be
aims of the public school with the actual facts to
be observed in the present method of. teaching
German, we see immediately what they really
amount to in practice,—-that is to say, only to
subterfuges for use in the fight and struggle for
existence and, often enough, mere means where-
with to bewilder an opponent. For we are
unable to detect any single feature in this
teaching of German which in any way recalls
the example of classical antiquity and its glorious
methods of training in languages. 'Formal
education,' however, which is supposed to be
achieved by this method of teaching German, has
been shown to be wholly at the pleasure of the
'free personality,' which is as good as saying
that it is barbarism and anarchy. And as for
the preparation in science, which is one of the
consequences of this teaching, our Germanists
will have to determine, in all justice, how little
these learned beginnings in public schools have
contributed to the splendour of their sciences,
and how much the personality of individual
university professors has done so. —Put briefly:


## p. 58 (#78) ##############################################

58 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
the public school has hitherto neglected its r
important and most urgent duty towards the'
beginning of all real culture, which is the mot
tongue; but in so doing it has lacked the nati
fertile soil for all further efforts at culture,
only by means of stern, artistic, and car
discipline and habit, in a language, can the con
feeling for the greatness of our classical writers
strengthened. Up to the present their recog
tion by the public schools has been owing aim
solely to the doubtful aesthetic hobbies of a i
teachers or to the massive effects of certain
their tragedies and novels. But everybody shou
himself, be aware of the difficulties of 1
language: he should have learnt them from e
perience: after long seeking and struggling
must reach the path our great poets trod in ord
to be able to realise how lightly and beautiful
they trod it, and how stiffly and swaggeringly tl
others follow at their heels.
"Only by means of such discipline can tl
young man acquire that physical loathing for tl
beloved and much-admired 'elegance' of style <
our newspaper manufacturers and novelists, an
for the 'ornate style' of our literary men; by:
alone is he irrevocably elevated at a stroke abov
a whole host of absurd questions and scruple;
such, for instance, as whether Auerbach anc
Gutzkow are really poets, for his disgust at botl
will be so great that he will be unable to reac
them any longer, and thus the problem will be
solved for him. Let no one imagine that it is an
easy matter to develop this feeling to the extent
S


## p. 59 (#79) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 59
necessary in order to have this physical loathing;
but let no one hope to reach sound aesthetic judg-
ments along any other road than the thorny one
of language, and by this I do not mean philo-
logical research, but self-discipline in one's mother-
tongue.
"Everybody who is in earnest in this matter 'Sti. iUv.
will have the same sort of experience as the
recruit in the army who is compelled to learn
walking after having walked almost all his life as
a dilettante or empiricist. It is a hard time: one
almost fears that the tendons are going to snap
and one ceases to hope that the artificial and
consciously acquired movements and positions of
the feet will ever be carried out with ease and
comfort. It is painful to see how awkwardly and
heavily one foot is set before the other, and one
dreads that one may not only be unable to learn
the new way of walking, but that one will forget
how to walk at all. Then it suddenly becomes
noticeable that a new habit and a second nature
have been born of the practised movements, and
that the assurance and strength of the old manner
of walking returns with a little more grace: at
this point one begins to realise how difficult
walking is, and one feels in a position to laugh
at the untrained empiricist or the elegant dilettante.
Our * elegant' writers, as their style shows, have
never learnt 'walking' in this sense, and in our
public schools, as our other writers show, no one
learns walking either. Culture begins, however,
with the correct movement of the language: and
once it has properly begun, it begets that physical


## p. 60 (#80) ##############################################

60 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIOIS
sensation in the presence of ' elegant' writers w
is known by the name of' loathing. '
"We recognise the fatal consequences of
present public schools, in that they are unabl
inculcate severe and genuine culture, which sh<
consist above all in obedience and habituation;
that, at their best, they much more often ach
a result by stimulating and kindling scien
tendencies, is shown by the hand which is
frequently seen uniting scholarship and barbar
taste, science and journalism. In a very la
majority of cases to-day we can observe how sa>
our scholars fall short of the standard of cult;
which the efforts of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, a
Winckelmann established; and this falling shi
shows itself precisely in the egregious err<
which the men we speak of are exposed to, equai
among literary historians—whether Gervinus
Julian Schmidt—as in any other compan;
everywhere, indeed, where men and worm
converse. It shows itself most frequently ar
painfully, however, in pedagogic spheres, in tl
literature of public schools. It can be prove
that the only value that these men have in a re;
educational establishment has not been mentionec
much less generally recognised for half a century
their value as preparatory leaders and mysto
gogues of classical culture, guided by whose hand;
alone can the correct road leading to antiquity b(
found.
"Every so-called classical education can have
but one natural starting-point—an artistic, earnest,
and exact familiarity with the use of the mother-
\


## p. 61 (#81) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 6l
tongue: this, together with the secret of form,
however, one can seldom attain to of one's own ac-
cord, almost everybody requires those great leaders
and tutors and must place himself in their hands.
There is, however, no such thing as a classical
education that could grow without this inferred
love of form. Here, where the power of discerning
form and barbarity gradually awakens, there appear
the pinions which bear one to the only real home of
culture—ancient Greece. If with the solitary help
of those pinions we sought to reach those far-distant
and diamond-studded walls encircling the strong-
hold of Hellenism, we should certainly not get very
far; once more, therefore, we need the same leaders
and tutors, our German classical writers, that we
may be borne up, too, by the wing-strokes of their
past endeavours—to the land of yearning, to Greece.
"Not a suspicion of this possible relationship
between our classics and classical education seems
to have pierced the antique walls of public schools.
Philologists seem much more eagerly engaged in
introducing Homer and Sophocles to the young
souls of their pupils, in their own style, calling the
result simply by the unchallenged euphemism:
'classical education. ' Let every one's own experi-
ence tell him what he had of Homer and Sophocles
at the hands of such eager teachers. It is in this
department that the greatest number of deepest
deceptions occur, and whence misunderstandings
are inadvertently spread. In German public schools
I have never yet found a trace of what might really
be called 'classical education,' and there is nothing
surprising in this when one thinks of the way in


## p. 62 (#82) ##############################################

62 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIOI
which these institutions have emancipated t
selves from German classical writers and the
cipline of the German language. Nobody res
antiquity by means of a leap into the dark, anc
the whole method of treating ancient writer
schools, the plain commentating and paraphra
of our philological teachers, amounts to notl
more than a leap into the dark.
"The feeling for classical Hellenism is, s
matter of fact, such an exceptional outcome of
most energetic fight for culture and artistic ta]
that the public school could only have profes
to awaken this feeling owing to a very crude n
understanding. In what age? In an age wh
is led about blindly by the most sensational desi
of the day, and which is not aware of the fact th
once that feeling for Hellenism is roused, it i
mediately becomes aggressive and must expr<
itself by indulging in an incessant war with the 5
called culture of the present. For the public schc
boy of to-day, the Hellenes as Hellenes are deai
yes, he gets some enjoyment out of Homer, but
novel by Spielhagen interests him much more: ye
he swallows Greek tragedy and comedy with
certain relish, but a thoroughly modern drama, lik
Freitag's' Journalists,' moves him in quite anothe
fashion. In regard to all ancient authors he i
rather inclined to speak after the manner of th
aesthete, Hermann Grimm, who, on one occasion, a
the end of a tortuous essay on the Venus of Mile
asks himself: ' What does this goddess's form meat
to me? Of what use are the thoughts she suggest;
to me? Orestes and CEdipus, Iphigenia and Anti-


## p. 63 (#83) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 63
gone, what have they in common with my heart? '—
No, my dear public school boy, the Venus of Milo
does not concern you in any way, and concerns
your teacher just as little—and that is the mis-
fortune, that is the secret of the modern public
school. Who will conduct you to the land of
culture, if your leaders are blind and assume the
position of seers notwithstanding? Which of you
will ever attain to a true feeling for the sacred I
seriousness of art, if you are systematically spoiled, |
and taught to stutter independently instead of being
taught to speak; to aestheticise on your own ac-
count, when you ought to be taught to approach
works of art almost piously; to philosophise with-
out assistance, while you ought to be compelled to
listen to great thinkers. All this with the result
that you remain eternally at a distance from
antiquity and become the servants of the day.
"At all events, the most wholesome feature of
our modern institutions is to be found in the
earnestness with which the Latin and Greek
languages are studied over a long course of years.
In this way boys learn to respect a grammar,
lexicons, and a language that conforms to fixed
rules; in this department of public school work
there is an exact knowledge of what constitutes a
fault, and no one is troubled with any thought of
justifying himself every minute by appealing (as in
the case of modern German) to various grammatical
and orthographical vagaries and vicious forms. If
only this respect for language did not hang in the
air so, like a theoretical burden which one is pleased
to throw off the moment one turns to one's mother-


## p. 64 (#84) ##############################################

64 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIOI
tongue! More often than not, the classical m
makes pretty short work of the mother-tongue;
the outset he treats it as a department of knowl
in which one is allowed that indolent ease
which the German treats everything that bel
to his native soil. The splendid practice affo
by translating from one language into ano
which so improves and fertilises one's artistic fet
for one's own tongue, is, in the case of Gen
never conducted with that fitting categorical st
ness and dignity which would be above all neces
in dealing with an undisciplined language. Of
exercises of this kind have tended to decrease ■
more and more: people are satisfied to know
foreign classical tongues, they would scorn be
able to apply them.
"Here one gets another glimpse of the schol;
tendency of public schools: a phenomenon wr.
throws much light upon the object which o
animated them,—that is to say, the serious de;
to cultivate the pupil. This belonged to the ti
of our great poets, those few really cultu:
Germans,—the time when the magnificent Frii
rich August Wolf directed the new stream
classical thought, introduced from Greece a
Rome by those men, into the heart of the pub
schools. Thanks to his bold start, a new order
public schools was established, which thenceforwa
was not to be merely a nursery for science, bi
above all, the actual consecrated home of <
higher and nobler culture.
"Of the many necessary measures which th
change called into being, some of the most in


## p. 65 (#85) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 65
portant have been transferred with lasting success
to the modern regulations of public schools: the
most important of all, however, did not succeed—
the one demanding that the teacher, also, should
be consecrated to the new spirit, so that the aim
of the public school has meanwhile considerably
departed from the original plan laid down by Wolf,
which was the cultivation of the pupil. The old
estimate of scholarship and scholarly culture, as an
absolute, which Wolf overcame, seems after a slow
and spiritless struggle rather to have taken the
place of the culture-principle of more recent intro-
duction, and now claims its former exclusive rights,
though not with the same frankness, but disguised
and with features veiled. And the reason why it
was impossible to make public schools fall in with
the magnificent plan of classical culture lay in the
un-German, almost foreign or cosmopolitan nature
of these efforts in the cause of education: in the
belief that it was possible to remove the native soil
from under a man's feet and that he should still
remain standing; in the illusion that people can
spring direct, without bridges, into the strange
Hellenic world, by abjuring German and the
German mind in general.
"Of course one must know how to trace this
Germanic spirit to its lair beneath its many modern
dressings, or even beneath heaps of ruins; one
must love it so that one is not ashamed of it in
its stunted form, and one must above all be on
one's guard against confounding it with what
now disports itself proudly as 'Up-to-date Ger-
man culture. ' The German spirit is very far from
E


## p. 66 (#86) ##############################################

66 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIC
being on friendly times with this up-to-date ci
and precisely in those spheres where the
complains of a lack of culture the real Gc
spirit has survived, though perhaps not a
with a graceful, but more often an ungra
exterior. On the other hand, that which
grandiloquently assumes the title of' Germar
ture' is a sort of cosmopolitan aggregate, \
bears the same relation to the German spij
Journalism does to Schiller or Meyerbeer to ]
hoven: here the strongest influence at work i;
fundamentally and thoroughly un-German civ;
tion of France, which is aped neither with fc
nor with taste, and the imitation of which j:
the society, the press, the art, and the lite
style of Germany their pharisaical chara
Naturally the copy nowhere produces the re
artistic effect which the original, grown out of
heart of Roman civilisation, is able to prod
almost to this day in France. Let any one \
wishes to see the full force of this contrast comp
our most noted novelists with the less noted o
of France or Italy: he will recognise in both
same doubtful tendencies and aims, as also
same still more doubtful means, but in France
will find them coupled with artistic earnestness,
least with grammatical purity, and often w
beauty, while in their every feature he will recc
nise the echo of a corresponding social cultu
In Germany, on the other hand, they will strike hi
as unoriginal, flabby, filled with dressing-gov
thoughts and expressions, unpleasantly spread 01
and therewithal possessing no background


## p. 67 (#87) ##############################################

SECOND LECTURE. 6j
social form. At the most, owing to their scholarly
mannerisms and display of knowledge, he will be
reminded of the fact that in Latin countries it is
the artistically-trained man, and that in Germany
it is the abortive scholar, who becomes a journalist.
With this would-be German and thoroughly un-
original culture, the German can nowhere reckon
upon victory: the Frenchman and the Italian will
always get the better of him in this respect, while,
in regard to the clever imitation of a foreign cul-
ture, the Russian, above all, will always be his
superior.
"We are therefore all the more anxious to hold
fast to that German spirit which revealed itself in
the German Reformation, and in German music,
and which has shown its enduring and genuine
strength in the enormous courage and severity of
German philosophy and in the loyalty of the
German soldier, which has been tested quite re- t
cently. From it we expect a victory over that \
'up-to-date' pseudo-culture which is now the
fashion. What we should hope for the future is
that schools may draw the real school of culture
into this struggle, and kindle the flame of enthu-
siasm in the younger generation, more particularly
in public schools, for that which is truly German;
and in this way so-called classical education will
resume its natural place and recover its one pos-
sible starting-point.
"A thorough reformation and purification of the
public school can only be the outcome of a pro-
found and powerful reformation and purification
of the German spirit. It is a very complex and
J


## p. 68 (#88) ##############################################

68 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
difficult task to find the border-line which join
heart of the Germanic spirit with the genii
Greece. Not, however, before the noblest r
of genuine German genius snatch at the han
this genius of Greece as at a firm post in
torrent of barbarity, not before a devouring ye
ing for this genius of Greece takes possessio
German genius, and not before that view of
Greek home, on which Schiller and Goethe, i
enormous exertions, were able to feast their e
has become the Mecca of the best and most gi
men, will the aim of classical education in pu
schools acquire any definition; and they at li
will not be to blame who teach ever so li
science and learning in public schools, in orde:
keep a definite and at the same time ideal ain
their eyes, and to rescue their pupils from t
glistening phantom which now allows itself to
called 'culture' and 'education. ' This is the:
plight of the public school of to-day: the narrow
views remain in a certain measure right, beca
no one seems able to reach or, at least, to indie
the spot where all these views culminate
error. "
"No one? " the philosopher's pupil inquii
with a slight quaver in his voice; and both m
were silent.
X


## p. 69 (#89) ##############################################

THIRD LECTURE.
(Delivered on the T]th of February 1872. )
Ladies and Gentlemen,—At the close of my
last lecture, the conversation to which 1 was a
listener, and the outlines of which, as I clearly re-
collect them, I am now trying to lay before you,
was interrupted by a long and solemn pause.
Both the philosopher and his companion sat silent,
sunk in deep dejection: the peculiarly critical state
of that important educational institution, the Ger-
man public school, lay upon their souls like a heavy
burden, which one single, well-meaning individual
is not strong enough to remove, and the multitude,
though strong, not well meaning enough.
Our solitary thinkers were perturbed by two
facts: by clearly perceiving on the one hand that
what might rightly be called " classical education"
was now only a far-off ideal, a castle in the air,
which could not possibly be built as a reality on
the foundations of our present educational system,
and that, on the other hand, what was now, with
customary and unopposed euphemism, pointed to
as " classical education " could only claim the value
of a pretentious illusion, the best effect of which
was that the expression "classical education" still
lived on and had not yet lost its pathetic sound.


## p. 70 (#90) ##############################################

70 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION:
These two worthy men saw clearly, by the sys
of instruction in vogue, that the time was not
ripe for a higher culture, a culture founded u
that of the ancients: the neglected state of
guistic instruction; the forcing of students i
learned historical paths, instead of giving thei
practical training; the connection of certain pi
tices, encouraged in the public schools, with
objectionable spirit of our journalistic publicity
all these easily perceptible phenomena of
teaching of German led to the painful certaii
that the most beneficial of those forces which h;
come down to us from classical antiquity are i
yet known in our public schools: forces wh
would train students for the struggle against 1
barbarism of the present age, and which will pi
haps once more transform the public schools ir
the arsenals and workshops of this struggle.
On the other hand, it would seem in the mea
time as if the spirit of antiquity, in its fundamen
principles, had already been driven away from t
portals of the public schools, and as if here al
the gates were thrown open as widely as possib
to the be-flattered and pampered type of our prese
self-styled " German culture. " And if the solita
talkers caught a glimpse of a single ray of hope,
was that things would have to become still wors
that what was as yet divined only by the few wou
soon be clearly perceived by the many, and th<
then the time for honest and resolute men for tl
earnest consideration of the scope of the educatio
of the masses would not be far distant.
After a few minutes' silent reflection, the philc


## p. 71 (#91) ##############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 71
sopher's companion turned to him and said : " You
used to hold out hopes to me, but now you have
done more: you have widened my intelligence, and
with it my strength and courage: now indeed can
I look on the field of battle with more hardihood,
now indeed do I repent of my too hasty flight.
We want nothing for ourselves, and it should be
nothing to us how many individuals may fall in
this battle, or whether we ourselves may be among
the first. Just because we take this matter so
seriously, we should not take our own poor selves
so seriously: at the very moment we are falling
some one else will grasp the banner of our faith.
I will not even consider whether I am strong enough
for such a fight, whether I can offer sufficient re-
sistance; it may even be an honourable death to
fall to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter
of such enemies, whose seriousness has frequently
seemed to us to be something ridiculous. When
I think how my contemporaries prepared them-
selves for the highest posts in the scholastic pro-
fession, as I myself have done, then I know how
we often laughed at the exact contrary, and grew
serious over something quite different"
"Now, my friend," interrupted the philosopher,
laughingly, "you speak as one who would fain dive
into the water without being able to swim, and
who fears something even more than the mere
drowning; not being drowned, but laughed at.
But being laughed at should be the very last thing
for us to dread; for we are in a sphere where there
are too many truths to tell, too many formidable,
painful, unpardonable truths, for us to escape hatred,


## p. 72 (#92) ##############################################

72 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS
and only fury here and there will give rise to so
sort of embarrassed laughter. Just think of the
numerable crowd of teachers, who, in all good fai
have assimilated the system of education which 1
prevailed up to the present, that they may chei
fully and without over-much deliberation carry
further on. What do you think it will seem li
to these men when they hear of projects from whi
they are excluded beneficio natures; of comman
which their mediocre abilities are totally unable
carry out; of hopes which find no echo in ther
of battles the war-cries of which they do not unde
stand, and in the fighting of which they can tai
part only as dull and obtuse rank and file? Bi
without exaggeration, that must necessarily be tl
position of practically all the teachers in our high'
educational establishments: and indeed we canm
wonder at this when we consider how such
teacher originates, how he becomes a teacher (
such high status. Such a large number of hight
educational establishments are now to be foun
everywhere that far more teachers will continue t
be required for them than the nature of even
highly-gifted people can produce; and thus ai
inordinate stream of undesirable sflows into thesi
institutions, who, however, by their preponderating
numbers and their instinct of similis simile gaudet
gradually come to determine the nature of these
institutions. There may be a few people, hope-
lessly unfamiliar with pedagogical matters, who
believe that our present profusion of public schools
and teachers, which is manifestly out of all propor-
tion, can be changed into a real profusion, an


## p. 73 (#93) ##############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 73
ubertas ingenii, merely by a few rules and regula-
tions, and without any reduction in the number of
these institutions. But we may surely be unanimous
in recognising that by the very nature of things
only an exceedingly small number of people are
destined for a true course of education, and that
a much smaller number of higher educational
establishments would suffice for their further
development, but that, in view of the present large
numbers of educational institutions, those for whom
in general such institutions ought only to be
established must feel themselves to be the least
facilitated in their progress.
"The same holds good in regard to teachers. It
is precisely the best teachers—those who, generally
speaking, judged by a high standard, are worthy
of this honourable name—who are now perhaps
the least fitted, in view of the present standing of
our public schools, for the education of these un-
selected youths, huddled together in a confused
heap; but who must rather, to a certain extent,
keep hidden from them the best they could give:
and, on the other hand, by far the larger number
of these teachers feel themselves quite at home in
these institutions, as their moderate abilities stand:
in a kind of harmonious relationship to the dullness |
of their pupils. It is from this majority that we
hear the ever-resounding call for the establishment
of new public schools and higher educational in-
stitutions : we are living in an age which, by ringing
the changes on its deafening and continual cry,
would certainly give one the impression that there
was an unprecedented thirst for culture which


## p. 74 (#94) ##############################################

74 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
eagerly sought to be quenched. But it is juj
this point that one should learn to hear aright
is here, without being disconcerted by the thun
ing noise of the education-mongers, that we n
confront those who talk so tirelessly about
educational necessities of their time. Then
should meet with a strange disillusionment, i
which we, my good friend, have often met wi
those blatant heralds of educational needs, wl
examined at close quarters, are suddenly seen to
transformed into zealous, yea, fanatical oppone
of true culture, i. e. all those who hold fast to 1
aristocratic nature of the mind; for, at bottc
they regard as their goal the emancipation of (
masses from the mastery of the great few; th
seek to overthrow the most sacred hierarchy in t
kingdom of the intellect—the servitude of t
masses, their submissive obedience, their instin
of loyalty to the rule of genius.
"I have long accustomed myself to look wi;
caution upon those who are ardent in the cause
the so-called 'education of the people' in tl
common meaning of the phrase; since for tr
most part they desire for themselves, conscious!
or unconsciously, absolutely unlimited freedon
which must inevitably degenerate into somethin
resembling the saturnalia of barbaric times, an
which the sacred hierarchy of nature will neve
grant them. They were born to serve and ti
•obey; and every moment in which their limpinj
or crawling or broken-winded thoughts are at worl
shows us clearly out of which clay nature mouldec
them, and what trade mark she branded thereon


## p. 75 (#95) ##############################################

THIRD LECTURE.
75
The education of the masses cannot, therefore, be
our aim; but rather the education of a few picked -»
men for great and lasting works. We well know
that a just posterity judges the collective intellec-
tual state of a time only by those few great and
lonely figures of the period, and gives its decision
in accordance with the manner in which they are
recognised, encouraged, and honoured, or, on the
other hand, in which they are snubbed, elbowed
aside, and kept down. What is called the 'educa-
tion of the masses' cannot be accomplished except
with difficulty; and even if a system of universal
compulsory education be applied, they can only
be reached outwardly: those individual lower levels
where, generally speaking, the masses come into
contact with culture, where the people nourishes
its religious instinct, where it poetises its mytho-
logical images, where it keeps up its faith in its
customs, privileges, native soil, and language—all
these levels can scarcely be reached by direct
means, and in any case only by violent demolition.
And, in serious matters of this kind, to hasten for-
ward the progress of the education of the people
means simply the postponement of this violent
demolition, and the maintenance of that whole-
some unconsciousness, that sound sleep, of the
people, without which counter-action and remedy \
no culture, with the exhausting strain and \
excitement of its own actions, can make any—
headway.
"We know, however, what the aspiration is of
those who would disturb the healthy slumber of
the people, and continually call out to them;
/'"
S"


## p. 76 (#96) ##############################################

j6 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
'Keep your eyes open! Be sensible! Be wi
we know the aim of those who profess to sal
excessive educational requirements by mean:
an extraordinary increase in the number of edi
tional institutions and the conceited tribe of teacl
originated thereby. These very people, using tr
~ *very means, are fighting against the natural b
: archy in the realm of the intellect, and destroy
the roots of all those noble and sublime pla:
forces which have their material origin in
unconsciousness of the people, and which fittini
terminate in the procreation of genius and its c
guidance and proper training. It is only in I
simile of the mother that we can grasp the me;
ing and the responsibility of the true education
the people in respect to genius: its real origin
not to be found in such education; it has, so
speak, only a metaphysical source, a metaphysic
home. But for the genius to make his appearanc
for him to emerge from among the people; to pc
tray the reflected picture, as it were, the dazzlii
brilliancy of the peculiar colours of this people;
depict the noble destiny of a people in the simi]
tude of an individual in a work which will last f<
all time, thereby making his nation itself eterns
and redeeming it from the ever-shifting element <
transient things: all this is possible for the genii
only when he has been brought up and come t
maturity in the tender care of the culture of
people; whilst, on the other hand, without thi
-- sheltering home, the genius will not, generall;
speaking, be able to rise to the height of his eterna
flight, but will at an early moment, like a strange:


## p. 77 (#97) ##############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 77
weather-driven upon a bleak, snow-covered desert,
slink away from the inhospitable land. "
"You astonish me with such a metaphysics of
genius," said the teacher's companion, " and I have
only a hazy conception of the accuracy of your
similitude. On the other hand, I fully understand
what you have said about the surplus of public
schools and the corresponding surplus of higher
grade teachers; and in this regard I myself have
collected some information which assures me that
the educational tendency of the public school must
right itself by this very surplus of teachers who
have really nothing at all to do with education,
and who are called into existence and pursue this
path solely because there is a demand for them.
Every man who, in an unexpected moment of
enlightenment, has convinced himself of the singu-
larity and inaccessibility of Hellenic antiquity, and
has warded off this conviction after an exhausting
struggle—every such man knows that the door
leading to this enlightenment will never remain
open to all comers; and he deems it absurd, yea
disgraceful, to use the Greeks as he would any
other tool he employs when following his profes-
sion or earning his living, shamelessly fumbling
with coarse hands amidst the relics of these holy
men. This brazen and vulgar feeling is, however,
most common in the profession from which the
largest numbers of teachers for the public schools
are drawn, the philological profession, wherefore
the reproduction and continuation of such a feeling
in the public school will not surprise us.
"Just look at the younger generation of


## p. 78 (#98) ##############################################

78 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIOl
philologists: how seldom we see in them
humble feeling that we, when compared
such a world as it was, have no right to i
at all: how coolly and fearlessly, as comp
with us, did that young brood build its miser
nests in the midst of the magnificent temf
A powerful voice from every nook and era
should ring in the ears of those who, from
day they begin their connection with the univer;
roam at will with such self-complacency
shamelessness among the awe-inspiring relics
"that noble civilisation: 'Hence, ye uninitiai
who will never be initiated; fly away in sile
and shame from these sacred chambers! ' J
this voice speaks in vain; for one must to so
extent be a Greek to understand a Greek cu
of excommunication. But these people I;
speaking of are so barbaric that they dispose
these relics to suit themselves: all their mode
conveniences and fancies are brought with the
and concealed among those ancient pillars ai
tombstones, and it gives rise to great rejoicii
when somebody finds, among the dust ar
cobwebs of antiquity, something that he himse
had slyly hidden there not so very long befor
One of them makes verses and takes care (
consult Hesychius' Lexicon. Something thei
immediately assures him that he is destined t
be an imitator of ^Eschylus, and leads him t
believe, indeed, that he 'has something in commo;
with' . (Eschylus: the miserable poetaster! Ye
another peers with the suspicious eye of i
policeman into every contradiction, even intc


## p. 79 (#99) ##############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 79
the shadow of every contradiction, of which
Homer was guilty: he fritters away his life in
tearing Homeric rags to tatters and sewing them
together again, rags that he himself was the first
to filch from the poet's kingly robe. A third
feels ill at ease when examining all the mysterious
and orgiastic sides of antiquity: he makes up his
mind once and for all to let the enlightened
Apollo alone pass without dispute, and to see
in the Athenian a gay and intelligent but never-
theless somewhat immoral Apollonian. What a
deep breath he draws when he succeeds in raising
yet another dark corner of antiquity to the level
of his own intelligence! —when, for example, he
discovers in Pythagoras a colleague who is as
enthusiastic as himself in arguing about politics.
Another racks his brains as to why CEdipus was
condemned by fate to perform such abominable
deeds—killing his father, marrying his mother.
Where lies the blame!
Where the poetic justice!
Suddenly it occurs to him: CEdipus was a ~*V
passionate fellow, lacking all Christian gentleness
—he even fell into an unbecoming rage when
Tiresias called him a monster and the curse of
the whole country. Be humble and meek! was
what Sophocles tried to teach, otherwise you will
have to marry your mothers and kill your fathers! j
Others, again, pass their lives in counting the
number of verses written by Greek and Roman
poets, and are delighted with the proportions
7:13=14:26. Finally, one of them brings
forward his solution of a question, such as the
Homeric poems considered from the standpoint


## p. 80 (#100) #############################################

80 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
of prepositions, and thinks he has drawn
truth from the bottom of the well with avd
Kara. All of them, however, with the r
widely separated aims in view, dig and bur
in Greek soil with a restlessness and a blundei
awkwardness that must surely be painful h
true friend of antiquity: and thus it comes
pass that I should like to take by the h;
every talented or talentless man who feels
certain professional inclination urging him on
the study of antiquity, and harangue him
follows: 'Young sir, do you know what pe
threaten you, with your little stock of sch
learning, before you become a man in the i
sense of the word? Have you heard that, i
. cording to Aristotle, it is by no means a tra;
death to be slain by a statue? Does that surpr
you? Know, then, that for centuries philologii
have been trying, with ever-failing strength,
re-erect the fallen statue of Greek antiquity, b
without success; for it is a colossus around whii
single individual men crawl like pygmies. Tl
leverage of the united representatives of modei
culture is utilised for the purpose; but it invar
ably happens that the huge column is scarce]
more than lifted from the ground when it fal
down again, crushing beneath its weight th
luckless wights under it. That, however, ma
be tolerated, for every being must perish by som
means or other; but who is there to guarante
that during all these attempts the statue itsel
will not break in pieces! The philologists an
being crushed by the Greeks—perhaps we car


## p. 81 (#101) #############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 81
put up with this—but antiquity itself threatens
to be crushed by these philologists! Think that
over, you easy-going young man; and turn back,
lest you too should not be an iconoclast! '"
"Indeed," said the philosopher, laughing,
"there are many philologists who have turned
back as you so much desire, and I notice a great
contrast with my own youthful experience.
Consciously or unconsciously, large numbers of
them have concluded that it is hopeless and
useless for them to come into direct contact with
classical antiquity, hence they are inclined to look
upon this study as barren, superseded, out-of-date.
This herd has turned with much greater zest to
the science of language: here in this wide expanse
of virgin soil, where even the most mediocre gifts
can be turned to account, and where a kind of
insipidity and dullness is even looked upon as
decided talent, with the novelty and uncertainty
of methods and the constant danger of making
fantastic mistakes—here, where dull regimental
routine and discipline are desiderata—here the
newcomer is no longer frightened by the majestic
and warning voice that rises from the ruins of
antiquity: here every one is welcomed with open
arms, including even him who never arrived at
any uncommon impression or noteworthy thought
after a perusal of Sophocles and Aristophanes,
with the result that they end in an etymological
tangle, or are seduced into collecting the fragments
of out-of-the-way dialects—and their time is spent
in associating and dissociating, collecting and
scattering, and running hither and thither con-
F


## p. 82 (#102) #############################################

82 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIOI
suiting books. And such a usefully empl
philologist would now fain be a teacher!
now undertakes to teach the youth of the p
schools something about the ancient wr;
although he himself has read them without
particular impression, much less with insi
What a dilemma! Antiquity has said not
to him, consequently he has nothing to say al
antiquity. A sudden thought strikes him: <
is he a skilled philologist at all! Why did tl
authors write Latin and Greek! And wit!
light heart he immediately begins to etymoloi
with Homer, calling Lithuanian or Ecclesiast
Slavonic, or, above all, the sacred Sanskrit,
his assistance: as if Greek lessons were mei
the excuse for a general introduction to the sti
of languages, and as if Homer were lack
in only one respect, namely, not being written
pre-Indogermanic. Whoever is acquainted w
our present public schools well knows what
wide gulf separates their teachers from classicis
and how, from a feeling of this want, comparati
philology and allied professions have increas
their numbers to such an unheard-of degree. "
"What I mean is," said the other, "it wou
depend upon whether a teacher of classical cultu
did not confuse his Greeks and Romans with tl
other peoples, the barbarians, whether he cou
never put Greek and Latin on a level with othi
languages : so far as his classicalism is concerned,
is a matter of indifference whether the framewor
of these languages concurs with or is in any wa
related to the other languages: such a concui


## p. 83 (#103) #############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 83
rence does not interest him at all; his real concern
is with what is not common to both, with what
shows him that those two peoples were not
barbarians as compared with the others—in so
far, of course, as he is a true teacher of culture,
and models himself after the majestic patterns of
the classics. "
"I may be wrong," said the philosopher, " but 1
suspect that, owing to the way in which Latin and
Greek are now taught in schools, the accurate
grasp of these languages, the ability to speak and
write them with ease, is lost, and that is something
in which my own generation distinguished itself
—a generation, indeed, whose few survivers have
by this time grown old; whilst, on the other hand,
the present teachers seem to impress their pupils
with the genetic and historical importance of the
subject to such an extent that, at best, their
scholars ultimately turn into little Sanskritists,
etymological spitfires, or reckless conjecturers;
but not one of them can read his Plato or Tacitus
with pleasure, as we old folk can. The public
schools may still be seats of learning: not, how-
ever of the learning which, as it were, is only the
natural and involuntary auxiliary of a culture
that is directed towards the noblest ends; but
rather of that culture which might be compared
to the hypertrophical swelling of an unhealthy
body. The public schools are certainly the seats
of this obesity, if, indeed, they have not degener-
ated into the abodes of that elegant barbarism
which is boasted of as being ' German culture of
the present! '"


## p. 84 (#104) #############################################

84 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIO:
"But," asked the other, " what is to becoi
that large body of teachers who have not
endowed with a true gift for culture, and wh
up as teachers merely to gain a livelihood
the profession, because there is a demand for t
because a superfluity of schools brings wit
a superfluity of teachers? Where shall the;
when antiquity peremptorily orders them to w
draw? Must they not be sacrificed to tl
powers of the present who, day after day, call
to them from the never-ending columns of
press: 'We are culture! We are educati
We are at the zenith! We are the apexes of
pyramids! We are the aims of universal histor
—when they hear the seductive promises, w]
the shameful signs of non-culture, the plebe
publicity of the so-called ' interests of culture'
extolled for their benefit in magazines and nei
papers as an entirely new and the best possib
full-grown form of culture! Whither shall t
poor fellows fly when they feel the presenting
that these promises are not true—where but to t
most obtuse, sterile scientificality, that here ti
shriek of culture may no longer be audible
them? Pursued in this way, must they not en
like the ostrich, by burying their heads in tl
sand? Is it not a real happiness for them, burie
as they are among dialects, etymologies, and cor
jectures, to lead a life like that of the ants, eve
though they are miles removed from true cultun
if only they can close their ears tightly and b
deaf to the voice of the 'elegant' culture of thi
time. "


## p. 85 (#105) #############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 85
"You are right, my friend," said the philosopher,
"but whence comes the urgent necessity for a
surplus of schools for culture, which further gives
rise to the necessity for a surplus of teachers ? —
when we so clearly see that the demand for a
surplus springs from a sphere which is hostile to
culture, and that the consequences of this surplus
only lead to non-culture. Indeed, we can discuss
this dire necessity only in so far as the modern
State is willing to discuss these things with us, and
is prepared to follow up its demands by force:
which phenomenon certainly makes the same
impression upon most people as if they were
addressed by the eternal law of things. For the
rest, a 'Culture-State,' to use the current expres-
sion, which makes such demands, is rather a
novelty, and has only come to a ' self-understand-
ing' within the last half century, i. e. in a period
when (to use the favourite popular word) so many
'self-understood' things came into being, but
which are in themselves not 'self-understood' at
all. This right to higher education has been
taken so seriously by the most powerful of modern
States—Prussia—that the objectionable principle
it has adopted, taken in connection with the well-
known daring and hardihood of this State, is seen
to have a menacing and dangerous consequence
for the true German spirit; for we see endeavours
being made in this quarter to raise the public
school, formally systematised, up to the so-called
'level of the time. ' Here is to be found all that
mechanism by means of which as many scholars
as possible are urged on to take up courses of


## p. 86 (#106) #############################################

86 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
public school training: here, indeed, the State has
its most powerful inducement—the concession of
certain privileges respecting military service, with
the natural consequence that, according to the
unprejudiced evidence of statistical officials, by
this, and by this only, can we explain the uni-
versal congestion of all Prussian public schools,
and the urgent and continual need for new ones.
What more can the State do for a surplus of
educational institutions than bring all the higher
and the majority of the lower civil service appoint-
ments, the right of entry to the universities, and
even the most influential military posts into close
connection with the public school: and all this in
a country where both universal military service
and the highest offices of the State unconsciously
attract all gifted natures to them. The public
school is here looked upon as an honourable aim,
and every one who feels himself urged on to the
sphere of government will be found on his way to
it. This is a new and quite original occurrence:
the State assumes the attitude of a mystogogue of
culture, and, whilst it promotes its own ends, it
obliges every one of its servants not to appear in
its presence without the torch of universal State
education in their hands, by the flickering light of
which they may again recognise the State as the
highest goal, as the reward of all their strivings
after education.
"Now this last phenomenon should indeed
surprise them; it should remind them of that
allied, slowly understood tendency of a philosophy
which was formerly promoted for reasons of State,


## p. 87 (#107) #############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 87
namely, the tendency of the Hegelian philosophy: t
yea, it would perhaps be no exaggeration to say
that, in the subordination of all strivings after educa-
tion to reasons of State, Prussia has appropriated,
with success, the principle and the useful heirloom
of the Hegelian philosophy, whose apotheosis of
the State in this subordination certainly reaches its
height. "
"But," said the philosopher's companion, " what
purposes can the State have in view with such a
strange aim? For that it has some State objects
in view is seen in the manner in which the condi-
tions of Prussian schools are admired by, meditated
upon, and occasionally imitated by other States.
These other States obviously presuppose something
here that, if adopted, would tend towards the main-
tenance and power of the State, like our well-known
and popular conscription. Where everyone proudly
wears his soldier's uniform at regular intervals,
where almost every one has absorbed a uniform type
of national culture through the public schools,
enthusiastic hyperboles may well be uttered con-
cerning the systems employed in former times, and
a form of State omnipotence which was attained
only in antiquity, and which almost every young
man, by both instinct and training, thinks it is the
crowning glory and highest aim of human beings
to reach. "
"Such a comparison," said the philosopher,
"would be quite hyperbolical, and would not
hobble along on one leg only. For, indeed, the
ancient State emphatically did not share the utili-
tarian point of view of recognising as culture only


## p. 88 (#108) #############################################

88 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
what was directly useful to the State itself, and was
far from wishing to destroy those impulses which
did not seem to be immediately applicable. For
this very reason the profound Greek had for the
State that strong feeling of admiration and thank-
fulness which is so distasteful to modern men;
because he clearly recognised not only that with-
out such State protection the germs of his culture
could not develop, but also that all his inimitable
and perennial culture had flourished so luxuriantly
under the wise and careful guardianship of the pro-
• tection afforded by the State. The State was for
T his culture not a supervisor, regulator, and watch-
man, but a vigorous and muscular companion and
friend, ready for^war, who accompanied his noble,
admired, and, as it were, ethereal friend through
disagreeable reality, earning his thanks therefor.
This, however, does not happen when a modern
State lays claim to such hearty gratitude because
it renders such chivalrous service to German culture
and art: for in this regard its past is as ignominious
as its present, as a proof of which we have but to
think of the manner in which the memory of our
great poets and artists is celebrated in German
cities, and how the highest objects of these German
masters are supported on the part of the State.
"There must therefore be peculiar circumstances
surrounding both this purpose towards which the
State is tending, and which always promotes what
is here called 'education'; and surrounding like-
wise the culture thus promoted, which subordinates
itself to this purpose of the State. With the real
German spirit and the education derived therefrom,


## p. 89 (#109) #############################################

THIRD LECTURE. 89
such as I have slowly outlined for you, this purpose
of the State is at war, hiddenly or openly: the spirit
of education, which is welcomed and encouraged
with such interest by the State, and owing to which
the schools of this country are so much admired
abroad, must accordingly originate in a sphere that
never comes into contact with this true German
spirit: with that spirit which speaks to us so
wondrously from the inner heart of the German
Reformation, German music, and German philo-
sophy, and which, like a noble exile, is regarded
with such indifference and scorn by the luxurious
education afforded by the State. This spirit is a
stranger: it passes by in solitary sadness, and far
away from it the censer of pseudo-culture is swung
backwards and forwards, which, amidst the accla-
mations of 'educated' teachers and journalists,
arrogates to itself its name and privileges, and metes
out insulting treatment to the word 'German. '
Why does the State require that surplus of educa-^
tional institutions, of teachers? Why this education
of the masses on such an extended scale? Because
the true German spirit is hated, because the aristo-
cratic nature of true culture is feared, because the
people endeavour in this way to drive single great
individuals into self-exile, so that the claims of the
masses to education may be, so to speak, planted
down and carefully tended, in order that the many
may in this way endeavour to escape the rigid and
strict discipline of the few great leaders, so that the
masses may be persuaded that they can easily find
the path for themselves—following the guiding star
of the State! -i


## p. 90 (#110) #############################################

90 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
"A new phenomenon! The State as the guiding
star of culture! In the meantime one thing con-
soles me: this German spirit, which people are
combating so much, and for which they have
substituted a gaudily attired locum tenens, this
spirit is brave: it will fight and redeem itself into
a purer age; noble, as it is now, and victorious, as
it one day will be, it will always preserve in its
mind a certain pitiful toleration of the State, if the
latter, hard-pressed in the hour of extremity, secures
such a pseudo-culture as its associate. For what,
after all, do we know about the difficult task of
governing men, i. e. to keep law, order, quietness,
and peace among millions of boundlessly ego-
istical, unjust, unreasonable, dishonourable, envious,
malignant, and hence very narrow-minded and
perverse human beings; and thus to protect the
few things that the State has conquered for itself
against covetous neighbours and jealous robbers?
Such a hard-pressed State holds out its arms to any
associate, grasps at any straw; and when such an
associate does introduce himself with flowery elo-
quence, when he adjudges the State, as Hegel did,
to be an 'absolutely complete ethical organism,'
the be-all and end-all of every one's education, and
goes on to indicate how he himself can best promote
the interests of the State—who will be surprised if,
without further parley, the State falls upon his neck
and cries aloud in a barbaric voice of full conviction:
'Yes! Thou art education! Thou art indeed
culture! '"
N


## p. 91 (#111) #############################################

FOURTH LECTURE.
{Delivered on the %th of March 1872. )
Ladies and Gentlemen,—Now that you have
followed my tale up to this point, and that we have
made ourselves joint masters of the solitary, remote,
and at times abusive duologue of the philosopher
and his companion, I sincerely hope that you, like
strong swimmers, are ready to proceed on the
second half of our journey, especially as I can
promise you that a few other marionettes will
appear in the puppet-play of my adventure, and
that if up to the present you have only been able
to do little more than endure what I have been
telling you, the waves of my story will now bear
you more quickly and easily towards the end. In
other words we have now come to a turning, and
it would be advisable for us to take a short glance
backwards to see what we think we have gained
from such a varied conversation.
"Remain in your present position," the philo-
sopher seemed to say to his companion, " for you
may cherish hopes. It is more and more clearly
evident that we have no educational institutions
at all; but that we ought to have them. Our
public schools—established, it would seem, for
this high object—have either become the nurseries
,--


## p. 92 (#112) #############################################

92 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTION
/ of a reprehensible culture which repels the
/ culture with profound hatred—i. e. a true, ari
»\ cratic culture, founded upon a few carefully cho
minds; or they foster a micrological and ste
/ learning which, while it is far removed from cultz.
/ has at least this merit, that it avoids that rep
hensible culture as well as the true culture. " T
philosopher had particularly drawn his companior
attention to the strange corruption which mu
have entered into the heart of culture when tk
State thought itself capable of tyrannising over i
and of attaining its ends through it; and furthe
when the State, in conjunction with this culture
struggled against other hostile forces as well as
against the spirit which the philosopher ventured to
call the " true German spirit. " This spirit, linked to
the Greeks by the noblest ties, and shown by its
past history to have been steadfast and courageous,
pure and lofty in its aims, its faculties qualifying
it for the high task of freeing modern man from
the curse of modernity—this spirit is condemned
to live apart, banished from its inheritance. But
\ when its slow, painful tones of woe resound
through the desert of the present, then the
overladen and gaily-decked caravan of culture
is pulled up short, horror-stricken. We must not
only astonish, but terrify—such was the philo-
sopher's opinion: not to fly shamefully away, but
to take the offensive, was his advice; but he
especially counselled his companion not to ponder
too anxiously over the individual from whom,
through a higher instinct, this aversion for the
present barbarism proceeded. "Let it perish:
\


## p. 93 (#113) #############################################

FOURTH LECTURE.
93
the Pythian god had no difficulty in finding a new
tripod, a second Pythia, so long, at least, as the
mystic cold vapours rose from the earth. "
The philosopher once more began to speak:
"Be careful to remember, my friend," said he,
"there are two things you must not confuse. A
man must learn a great deal that he may live and
take part in the struggle for existence; but every-
thing that he as an individual learns and does with
this end in view has nothing whatever to do with
culture. This latter only takes its beginning in a
sphere that lies far above the world of necessity,
indigence, and struggle for existence. The ques-
tion now is to what extent a man values his ego
in comparison with other egos, how much of his
strength he uses up in the endeavour to earn his ,
living. Many a one, by stoically confining his',
needs within a narrow compass, will shortly and
easily reach the sphere in which he may forget,
and, as it were, shake off his ego, so that he can
enjoy perpetual youth in a solar system of time-
less and impersonal things. Another widens the
scope and needs of his ego as much as possible,
and builds the mausoleum of this ego in vast
proportions, as if he were prepared to fight and
conquer that terrible adversary, Time. In this
instinct also we may see a longing for immortality:
wealth and power, wisdom, presence of mind,
eloquence, a flourishing outward aspect, a renowned
name—all these are merely turned into the means
by which an insatiable, personal will to live craves
for new life, with which, again, it hankers after an
eternity that is at last seen to be illusory.
;. ■)
J


## p. 94 (#114) #############################################

94 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
"But even in this highest form of the ego, in
the enhanced needs of such a distended and, as
it were, collective individual, true culture is never
touched upon; and if, for example, art is sought
after, only its disseminating and stimulating actions
come into prominence, i. e. those which least give
rise to pure and noble art, and most of all to low
and degraded forms of it. For in all his efforts,
however great and exceptional they seem to the
onlooker, he never succeeds in freeing himself
from his own hankering and restless personality:
that illuminated, ethereal sphere where one may
contemplate without the obstruction of one's own
personality continually recedes from him—and
thus, let him learn, travel, and collect as he may,
he must always live an exiled life at a remote
distance from a higher life and from true culture.
For true culture would scorn to contaminate itself
with the needy and covetous individual; it well
knows how to give the slip to the man who would
fain employ it as a means of attaining to egoistic
ends; and if any one cherishes the belief that he
has firmly secured it as a means of livelihood, and
that he can procure the necessities of life by its
sedulous cultivation, then it suddenly steals away
with noiseless steps and an air of derisive mockery. *
"I will thus ask you, my friend, not to
confound this culture, this sensitive, fastidious,
ethereal goddess, with that useful maid-of-all-work
which is also called 'culture,' but which is only
* It will be apparent from these words that Nietzsche is
still under the influence of Schopenhauer. —Tr.


## p. 95 (#115) #############################################

FOURTH LECTURE. 95
the intellectual servant and counsellor of one's
practical necessities, wants, and means of livelihood.
Every kind of training, however, which holds out
the prospect of bread-winning as its end and aim,
is not a training for culture as we understand the
word; but merely a collection of precepts and'
directions to show how, in the struggle for
existence, a man may preserve and protect his
own person. It may be freely admitted that for |
the great majority of men such a course of
instruction is of the highest importance; and the
more arduous the struggle is the more intensely
must the young man strain every nerve to utilise
his strength to the best advantage.
"But—let no one think for a moment that the
schools which urge him on to this struggle and
prepare him for it are in any way seriously to be
considered as establishments of culture. They are
institutions which teach one how to take part in
the battle of life; whether they promise to turn
out civil servants, or merchants, or officers, or
wholesale dealers, or farmers, or physicians, or
men with a technical training. The regulations
and standards prevailing at such institutions
differ from those in a true educational institution;
and what in the latter is permitted, and even
freely held out as often as possible, ought to be
considered as a criminal offence in the former.
"Let me give you an example. If you wish to
guide a young man on the path of true culture,
beware of interrupting his naive, confident, and, as
it were, immediate and personal relationship with t—
nature. The woods, the rocks, the winds, the,'


## p. 96 (#116) #############################################

96 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
vulture, the flowers, the butterfly, the meads, the
mountain slopes, must all speak to him in their
own language; in them he must, as it were, come
to know himself again in countless reflections and
images, in a variegated round of changing visions;
and in this way he will unconsciously and gradually
feel the metaphysical unity of all things in the
great image of nature, and at the same time tran-
quillise his soul in the contemplation of her eternal
endurance and necessity. But how many young
men should be permitted to grow up in such close
and almost personal proximity to nature! The
others must learn another truth betimes: how to
subdue nature to themselves. Here is an end of
this naive metaphysics; and the physiology of
plants and animals, geology, inorganic chemistry,
force their devotees to view nature from an alto-
gether different standpoint. What is lost by this
new point of view is not only a poetical phantas-
magoria, but the instinctive, true, and unique point
of view, instead of which we have shrewd and
clever calculations, and, so to speak, overreachings
of nature. Thus to the truly cultured man is
vouchsafed the inestimable benefit of being able to
remain faithful, without a break, to the contem-
plative instincts of his childhood, and so to attain
to a calmness, unity, consistency, and harmony
which can never be even thought of by a man
who is compelled to fight in the struggle for
existence.
"You must not think, however, that I wish to
withhold all praise from our primary and secondary
schools: I honour the seminaries where boys learn


## p. 97 (#117) #############################################

FOURTH LECTURE. 97
arithmetic and master modern languages, and study
geography and the marvellous discoveries made in
natural science. I am quite prepared to say further
that those youths who pass through the better
class of secondary schools are well entitled to make
the claims put forward by the fully-fledged public
school boy; and the time is certainly not far dis-
tant when such pupils will be everywhere freely
admitted to the universities and positions under the
government, which has hitherto been the case only
with scholars from the public schools—of our pre-
sent public schools, be it noted ! * I cannot, how-
ever, refrain from adding the melancholy reflection:
if it be true that secondary and public schools are, on
the whole, working so heartily in common towards
the same ends, and differ from each other only in
such a slight degree, that they may take equal rank
before the tribunal of the State, then we com-
pletely lack another kind of educational institu-
tions: those for the development of culture! To
say the least, the secondary schools cannot be
reproached with this; for they have up to the
present propitiously and honourably followed up
tendencies of a lower order, but one nevertheless
highly necessary. In the public schools, however,
there is very much less honesty and very much
less ability too; for in them we find an instinctive
feeling of shame, the unconscious perception of
the fact that the whole institution has been igno-
miniously degraded, and that the sonorous words
of wise and apathetic teachers are contradictory
* This prophecy has come true. —Tr.
G


## p. 98 (#118) #############################################

98 FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
to the dreary, barbaric, and sterile reality. So
there are no true cultural institutions! And in
those very places where a pretence to culture is
still kept up, we find the people more hopeless,
atrophied, and discontented than in the secondary
schools, where the so-called 'realistic' subjects
are taught! Besides this, only think how imma-
ture and uninformed one must be in the company
of such teachers when one actually misunderstands
the rigorously defined philosophical expressions
'real' and 'realism' to such a degree as to
think them the contraries of mind and matter,
and to interpret 'realism' as 'the road to know-
ledge, formation, and mastery of reality. '
"I for my own part know of only two exact
contraries: institutions for teaching culture and
institutions for teaching how to succeed in life. All
our present institutions belong to the second class;
but I am speaking only of the first. "
About two hours went by while the philoso-
phically-minded couple chatted about such start-
ling questions. Night slowly fell in the meantime;
and when in the twilight the philosopher's voice
had sounded like natural music through the woods,
it now rang out in the profound darkness of the
night when he was speaking with excitement or
even passionately; his tones hissing and thunder-
ing far down the valley, and reverberating among
the trees and rocks. Suddenly he was silent: he
had just repeated, almost pathetically, the words,
"we have no true educational institutions; we have
no true educational institutions ! " when something
fell down just in front of him—it might have been
\


## p. 99 (#119) #############################################

FOURTH LECTURE. 99
a fir-cone—and his dog barked and ran towards
it Thus interrupted, the philosopher raised his
head, and suddenly became aware of the dark-
ness, the cool air, and the lonely situation of
himself and his companion. "Well! What are
we about! " he ejaculated, " it's dark. You know
whom we were expecting here; but he hasn't
come. We have waited in vain; let us go. "
I must now, ladies and gentlemen, convey to
you the impressions experienced by my friend and
myself as we eagerly listened to this conversation,
which we heard distinctly in our hiding-place. I
have already told you that at that place and at
that hour we had intended to hold a festival in
commemoration of something: and this something
had to do with nothing else than matters concern-
ing educational training, of which we, in our own
youthful opinions, had garnered a plentiful harvest
during our past life. We were thus disposed to
remember with gratitude the institution which we
had at one time thought out for ourselves at that
very spot in order, as I have already mentioned,
that we might reciprocally encourage and watch
over one another's educational impulses. But a
sudden and unexpected light was thrown on all
that past life as we silently gave ourselves up to
the vehement words of the philosopher. As when
a traveller, walking heedlessly across unknown
ground, suddenly puts his foot over the edge of
a cliff, so it now seemed to us that we had
hastened to meet the great danger rather than run
away from it. Here at this spot, so memorable


## p. 100 (#120) ############################################

IOO FUTURE OF EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.
to us, we heard the warning: "Back! Not another
step! Know you not whither your footsteps tend,
whither this deceitful path is luring you? "
It seemed to us that we now knew, and our
feeling of overflowing thankfulness impelled us so
irresistibly towards our earnest counsellor and
trusty Eckart, that both of us sprang up at the
same moment and rushed towards the philosopher
to embrace him. He was just about to move off,
and had already turned sideways when we rushed
up to him. The dog turned sharply round and
barked, thinking doubtless, like the philosopher's
companion, of an attempt at robbery rather than
an enraptured embrace. It was plain that he had
forgotten us. In a word, he ran away. Our
embrace was a miserable failure when we did over-
take him; for my friend gave a loud yell as the
dog bit him, and the philosopher himself sprang
away from me with such force that we both fell.
What with the dog and the men there was a
scramble that lasted a few minutes, until my friend
began to call out loudly, parodying the philo-
sopher's own words: " In the name of all culture
and pseudo-culture, what does the silly dog want
with us? Hence, you confounded dog; you un-
initiated, never to be initiated; hasten away from
us, silent and ashamed! " After this outburst
matters were cleared up to some extent, at any rate
so far as they could be cleared up in the darkness
of the wood. "Oh, it's you! " ejaculated the
philosopher, "our duellists! How you startled
us! What on earth drives you to jump out upon
us like this at such a time of the night? "


## p. 101 (#121) ############################################

FOURTH LECTURE. IOI
"Joy, thankfulness, and reverence," said we,
shaking the old man by the hand, whilst the dog
barked as if he understood, " we can't let you go
without telling you this.