No More Learning

\
but by humane intentions, will probably execrate an
art which appears to implant in the soul the sense
of the disparagement and suspicion of mankind.
^EVEI
37-
Nevertheless. —However it may be with
reckoning and counter-reckoning, in the present
condition of philosophy the awakening of moral
observation is necessary. Humanity can no
"""1 longer be spared the cruel sight of the psycho-
logical dissecting-table with its knives and forceps.
For here rules that science which inquires into
the origin and history of the so-called moral
sentiments, and which, in its progress, has to
draw up and solve complicated sociological
j problems:— the older philosophy knows the
Vlatter one not at all, and has always avoided the
examination of the origin and history of moral
Sentiments on any feeble pretext. With what
consequences it is now very easy to see, after it
has been shown by many examples how the
/ mistakes of the greatest philosophers generally
! have their starting-point in a wrong explanation
1 of certain human actions and sensations, just as
i\ on the ground of an erroneous analysis—for
instance, that of the so-called unselfish actions—
a false ethic is built up; then, to harmonise with
this again, religion and mythological confusion
are brought in to assist, and finally the shades
l^of these dismal spirits fall also over physics and
the general mode of regarding the world. If it
is certain, however, that superficiality in psycho-
:


## p. 57 (#93) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. S7
logical observation has laid, and still lays, the
most dangerous snares for human judgments and I
conclusions, then there is need now of that
endurance of work which does not grow weary
of piling stone upon stone, pebble on pebble;
there is need of courage not to be ashamed of
such humble work and to turn a deaf ear to
scorn. And this is also true,—numberless single
observations on the human and all-too-human
have first been discovered, and given utterance to,
in circles of society which were accustomed to
offer sacrifice therewith to a clever desire to please,
and not to scientific knowledge,—and the odour
of that old home of the moral maxim, a very
seductive odour, has attached itself almost in-
separably to the whole species, so that on its
account the scientific man involuntarily betrays a.
certain distrust of this species and its earnestness.
But it is sufficient to point to the consequences,
for already it begins to be seen what results of
a serious kind spring from the ground of psycho-
logical observation. What, after all, is the
principal axiom to which the boldest and coldest
thinker, the author of the book On the Origin of
Moral Sensations^ has attained by means of his
incisive and decisive analyses of human actions?
"The moral man," he says, "is no nearer to the
intelligible (metaphysical) world than is the
physical man. " This theory, hardened and
sharpened under the hammer-blow of historical
knowledge, may some time or other, perhaps in
* Dr. Paul Ree. —J. M. K.
S


## p. 58 (#94) ##############################################

Jj 58 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
^
Y'
f
some future period, serve as the axe which is
applied to the root of the "metaphysical need"
of man,—whether more as a blessing than a
curse to the general welfare it is not easy to
say, but in any case as a theory with the most
important consequences, at once fruitful and
terrible, and looking into the world with that
Janus-face which all great knowledge possesses.
\
/
38.
How FAR USEFUL. —It must remain for ever
undecided whether psychological observation is
advantageous or disadvantageous to man; but it
is certain that it is necessary, because science
cannot do without it. Science, however, has no
consideration for ultimate purposes, any more
than Nature has, but just as the latter occasion-
ally achieves things of the greatest suitableness
without intending to do so, so also true science,
as the imitator of nature in ideas, will occasion-
ally and in many ways further the usefulness
and welfare of man,—but also without intending
to do so.
ut whoever feels too chilled by the breath of
such a reflection has perhaps too little fire in him-
self; let him look around him meanwhile and he
will become aware of illnesses which have need of
ice-poultices, and of men who are so "kneaded
together" of heat and spirit that they can hardly
find an atmosphere that is cold and biting enough.
Moreover, as individuals and nations that are too
serious have need of frivolities, as others too


## p. 59 (#95) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 59
mobile and excitable have need occasionally of
heavily oppressing burdens for the sake of their
health, should not we, the more intellectual people
of this age, that grows visibly more and more
inflamed, seize all quenching and cooling means
that exist, in order that we may at least remain
as constant, harmless, and moderate as we still
are, and thus, perhaps, serve some time or other
as mirror and self-contemplation for this age?
39-
The Fable of Intelligible Freedom. —
The history of the sentiments by means of which
we make a person responsible consists of the
following principal phases. First, all single actions
are called good or bad without any regard to
their motives, but only on account of the useful
or injurious consequences which result for the
community. But soon the origin of these dis-
tinctions is forgotten, and it is deemed that the
qualities " good " or "bad" are contained in the
action itself without regard to its consequences,
by the same error according to which language
describes the stone as hard, the tree as green,—with
which, in short, the result is regarded as the cause.
Then the goodness or badness is implanted in the
motive, and the action in itself is looked upon as
morally ambiguous. Mankind even goes further,
and applies the predicate good or bad no longer
to single motives, but to the whole nature of an
individual, out of whom the motive grows as the
plant grows out of the earth. Thus, in turn, man
sY\
itt-,. . ': •
r


## p. 59 (#96) ##############################################

HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
|
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
-
is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely, necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things, that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
is motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
hopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (“consciousness
of guilt”) in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity, which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher, but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari, in
so far it is erroneous, but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the
- i--º


## p. 59 (#97) ##############################################

.
fundameira = - ------------- - - ---- - - -2.
man becºmes - tº--- - ------- - - - -
is anteriºr = ------------ - - - - - -----
conclusiºr = <==- === -- - - - - - - -
humour, the -º--- ~ Tºrº-- *-a------sº--~~~~
*ff of this I -- a -s----- ºr- z--- - -er-
-
ing from its rºstas= --------- -2. ----------
arrives at his ==- - ----------- - - - ---> --
- --- - - - -
intelligiºt free-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
deed is Tºr I-sar - ---------- ~~~~ * *
with the aever--- -
probatºr ºr-- ~ar--- ~~
short Perrºr aſ tº ºr ºr ---.
* • * • -
responside iºr ºr a----- *****
to judge is ide-ria - " - - - - -" º
- * -- " -- * º
applies vºter z -- - - -
theory is as rear = *- : - - -***
prefers :: 2: Laze = - - -- ºr
truth, fºr fear zºº tº zz--~~~


## p. 59 (#98) ##############################################

60 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.

is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
/'nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
1 the elements and influences of past and present
] things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
\ sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
i-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the


## p. 59 (#99) ##############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 61
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
man becomes'that which he wislies to be, his will
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable admissable-
ness of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
ing from this mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
arrives at his fantastic sequence of the so-called
intelligible freedom. But the ill humour after the
deed is not necessarily reasonable, indeed it is
assuredly not reasonable, for it is based upon the
erroneous presumption that the action need not
v''
have inevitably followed. Therefore, it is onl^
because man believes himself to be free, not
because he is free, that he experiences remorse,
and pricks of conscience. Moreover, this ill
humour is a habit that can be broken off; in
many people it is entirely absent in connection
with actions where others experience it. It is a
very changeable thing, and one which is connected
with the development of customs and culture, and
probably only existing during a comparatively
short period of the world's history. Nobody is . s>
responsible for his actions, nobody for his nature ;M
to judge is identical with being unjust. This also V
applies when an individual judges himself. The
theory is as clear as sunlight, and yet every one
prefers to go back into the shadow and the un-
truth, for fear of the consequences.
40.
The Super-Animal. —The beast in us wishes
to be deceived; morality is a lie of necessity in
k-lV^'


## p. 59 (#100) #############################################

6o
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.

is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
*-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the


## p. 59 (#101) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 6|
99
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
manbecomesthat which he wishes to be, his will'
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable Wwm^Zr-
««of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
«g from fc mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
■Wat his fantastic sequence of the so-called
-f^do. But the i„ humour ^
deed i not necessarily reasonable, indeed it «
«y„otreasonable|forit. ^^'t'S
peous presumption that the aS neS t
** Stably followed. Therefore it >
because man *. /- l- reiore' rt « on >>!
* p* vi&e erence i—«
hum™ is a J? " M°re0Ver' ^ ill
verychangeablethinHL ^"enCe St II » »
rab,yo^^;t;;nd^. and
sh°rt period of the world" Vt ^P3^^
responsibleforhisacttu* NoH L
2™*»*»»i»d a^. ^t Thisa]4
*7^clearassun ih^ The
^,forfearof^co^adow and the yn.
^ necessity in
V> I
pain,
free
i, like
it is
:alled
there
gious
older
were
i for-
con-
ertain
f feet
! d of
fear.
into
tions,
pears,
f the
pro-
gods
1
ns in
m is
i nd is
f that
flues. )
Mich
stery
after-
vhich
.


## p. 59 (#102) #############################################

60 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
\r
is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
v-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being'
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the



## p. 59 (#103) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 61
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
man becomes'that which he wishes to be, his will
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable admissable-
ness of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
ing from this mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
arrives at his fantastic sequence of the so-called
intelligible freedom. But the ill humour after the
deed is not necessarily reasonable, indeed it is
assuredly not reasonable, for it is based upon the
erroneous presumption that the action need not , \ ,
have inevitably followed. Therefore, it is onlyV - ^-)AV,-'t
because man believes himself to be free, not
because he is free, that he experiences remorse/
and pricks of conscience. Moreover, this ill
humour is a habit that can be broken off; in
many people it is entirely absent in connection
with actions where others experience it. It is a
very changeable thing, and one which is connected
with the development of customs and culture, and
probably only existing during a comparatively
short period of the world's history. Nobody is |
responsible for his actions, nobody for his nature;
to judge is identical with being unjust. This also'
applies when an individual judges himself. The
theory is as clear as sunlight, and yet every one
prefers to go back into the shadow and the un-
truth, for fear of the consequences.
40.
The Super-Animal. —The beast in us wishes
to be deceived; morality is a lie of necessity in
i


## p. 60 (#104) #############################################

60 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
\r
is made responsible for his operations, then for his
actions, then for his motives, and finally for his
nature. Eventually it is discovered that even this
nature cannot be responsible, inasmuch as it is an
absolutely necessary consequence concreted out of
the elements and influences of past and present
things,—that man, therefore, cannot be made re-
sponsible for anything, neither for his nature, nor
v-his motives, nor his actions, nor his effects. It has
therewith come to be recognised that the history
of moral valuations is at the same time the history
of an error, the error of responsibility, which is
based upon the error of the freedom of will.
Schopenhauer thus decided against it: because
certain actions bring ill humour (" consciousness
of guilt") in their train, there must be a re-
sponsibility; for there would be no reason for this
ill humour if not only all human actions were not
done of necessity,—which is actually the case and
also the belief of this philosopher,—but man him-
self from the same necessity is precisely the being
that he is—which Schopenhauer denies. From
the fact of that ill humour Schopenhauer thinks
he can prove a liberty which man must somehow
have had, not with regard to' actions, but with
regard to nature; liberty, therefore, to be thus or
otherwise, not to act thus or otherwise. From the
esse, the sphere of freedom and responsibility, there
results, in his opinion, the operari, the sphere of
strict causality, necessity, and irresponsibility. This
ill humour is apparently directed to the operari,—in
so far it is erroneous,—but in reality it is directed
to the esse, which is the deed of a free will, the


## p. 61 (#105) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 6l
fundamental cause of the existence of an individual,
man becomes'"that which he wisfies to be, his will
is anterior to his existence. Here the mistaken
conclusion is drawn that from the fact of the ill
humour, the justification, the reasonable admissable-
ness of this ill humour is presupposed; and start-
ing from this mistaken conclusion, Schopenhauer
arrives at his fantastic sequence of the so-called
intelligible freedom. But the ill humour after the
deed is not necessarily reasonable, indeed it is
assuredly not reasonable, for it is based upon the
erroneous presumption that the action need not , f k
have inevitably followed. Therefore, it is onlyl , - '^- j\V
because man believes himself to be free, not
because he is free, that he experiences remorse/
and pricks of conscience. Moreover, this ill
humour is a habit that can be broken off; in
many people it is entirely absent in connection
with actions where others experience it. It is a
very changeable thing, and one which is connected
with the development of customs and culture, and
probably only existing during a comparatively
short period of the world's history. Nobody is /~\
responsible for his actions, nobody for his nature ;iyi)
to judge is identical with being unjust. This also Ay
applies when an individual judges himself. The
theory is as clear as sunlight, and yet every one
prefers to go back into the shadow and the un-
truth, for fear of the consequences.
40.
The Super-Animal. —The beast in us wishes
to be deceived; morality is a lie of necessity in


## p. 62 (#106) #############################################

62 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
£der that we may not be torn in pieces by it.
Without the errors which lie in the assumption of
orality, man would have remained an animal.
Thus, however, he has considered himself as
something higher and has laid strict laws upon
himself. Therefore he hates the grades which
have remained nearer to animalness, whereby the
former scorn of the slave, as a not-yet-man, is to
be explained as a fact.
41.
The Unchangeable Character. —That the
Character is unchangeable is not true in a strict
ense; this favourite theory means, rather, that
during the short lifetime of an individual the new
influencing motives cannot penetrate deeply enough
to destroy the ingrained marks of many thousands
of years. But if one were to imagine a man of
eighty thousand years, one would have in him an
absolutely changeable character, so that a number
of different individuals would gradually develop
out of him. The shortness of human life misleads
us into forming many erroneous ideas about the
qualities of man.
42.
The Order of Possessions and Morality.
— The once-accepted hierarchy of possessions,
according as this or the other is coveted by a
lower, higher, or highest egoism, now decides
what is moral or immoral. To prefer a lesser
good (for instance, the gratification of the senses)


## p. 63 (#107) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF j THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 63
to a more highly Valued good (for instance, health)
is accounted immoral, and also to prefer luxury
to liberty. The Hierarchy of possessions, however,
is not fixed and equal at all times; if any one pre-
fers vengeance tol justice he is moral according to
the standard of ai(i earlier civilisation, but immoral
according to the (present one. To be "immoral,'!
therefore, denotes; that an individual has not feltl
or not felt sufficiently strongly, the higher, finer,!
spiritual motives which have come in with a|
new culture; it marks one who has remained
behind, but only according to the difference of
degrees. The Order of possessions itself is not
raised and lowered according to a moral point
of view; but each time that it is fixed it sup-
plies the decision as to whether an action is moral
or immoral.
43-
Cruel People as Those who have Re- \
MAINED Behind. —People who are cruel now-
adays must be accounted for by us as the grades
of earlier civilisations which have survived;
here are exposed those deeper formations in
the mountain of humamty which usually remain
concealed. They are backward people whose
brains, through all manner of accidents in the course
of inheritance, have not been developed in so
delicate and manifold a way. They show us
what we all were and horrify us, but they them-
selves are as little responsible as is a block of
granite for being granite. There must, too, be
grooves and twists in our brains which answer to
^
S


## p. 64 (#108) #############################################

64 HUMAN, ALL-TOO- HUMAN.
that condition of mind, as in t le form of certain
human organs there are supposed to be traces of
a fish-state. But these grooves and twists are no
longer the bed through which] the stream of our
sensation flows.
44-
GRATITUDE AND Revenge. 4—The reason why
the powerful man is grateful isj this: his bene-
factor, through the benefit he confers, has mistaken
and intruded into the sphere of the powerful man,
—now the latter, in return, penetrates into the
sphere of the benefactor by the act of gratitude.
It is a milder form of revenge. Without the
satisfaction of gratitude, the powerful man would
have shown himself powerless, and would have
been reckoned as such ever after. Therefore
every society of the good, which originally meant
he powerful, places gratitude amongst the first
uties. —Swift propounded the maxim that men
were grateful in the same proportion as they were
revengeful.
45-
The Twofold Early History of Good
AND Evil. —The conception of good and evil
/T) has a twofold early history, namely, once in the
\J Isoul of the ruling tribes and castes. Whoever has
the power of returning good for good, evil for evil,
md really practises requital, and who is, therefore,
jrateful and revengeful, is called good; whoever
s powerless, and unable to requite, is reckoned as
jad. As a good man one is reckoned among the


## p. 65 (#109) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 65
"good," a community which has common feelings
because the single individuals are bound to one
another by the sense of requital. As a bad man
one belongs to the " bad," to a party of subordinate,
powerless people who have no common feeling.
The good are a caste, the bad are a mass like
dust. Good and bad have for a long time meant
the same thing as noble and base, master and
slave. On the other hand, the enemy is not
looked upon as evil, he can requite. In Homer
the Trojan and the Greek are both good. It is\
not the one who injures us, but the one who is I
despicable, who is called bad. Good is inherited
in the community of the good; it is impossible
that a bad man could spring from such good
soil. If, nevertheless, one of the good ones does
something which is unworthy of the good, refuge
is sought in excuses; the guilt is thrown upon
a god, for instance; it is said that he has struck
the good man with blindness and madness. — . _
Then in the soul of the oppressed and powerles^f^ j
Here every other man is looked upon as hostiley-'
inconsiderate, rapacious, cruer, cunning, be he
noble or base; evil is the distinguishing word for
man, even for every conceivable, living creature,
e. g. for a god; human, divine, is the same thing
as devilish, evil. The signs of goodness, helpful-
ness, pity, are looked upon with fear as spite, the
prelude to a terrible result, stupefaction and out- 1
witting,—in short, as refined malice. With such a \
disposition in the individual a community could
hardly exist, or at most it could exist only in its
crudest form, so that in all places where this con-
vol. 1. E
/''


## p. 66 (#110) #############################################

66 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
ception of good and evil obtains, the downfall of
the single individuals, of their tribes and races, is
act hand.
—Our present civilisation has grown up
OB the soil of the ruling tribes and castes.
46.
Sympathy Stronger than Suffering. —
I There are cases when sympathy is stronger than
actual suffering. For instance, we are more pained
when one of our friends is guilty of something
shameful than when we do it ourselves. For one
thing, we have more, faith in the purity of his
character than he has himself; then our love for
him, probably on account of this very faith, is
stronger than his love for himself. And even if
his egoism suffers more thereby than our egoism,
inasmuch as it has to bear more of the bad con-
sequences of his fault, the un-egoistic in us—this
word is not to be taken too seriously, but only as
a modification of the expression—is more deeply
wounded by his guilt than is the un-egoistic in
him.
47-
Hypochondria. —There are people who be-
come hypochondriacal through their sympathy and
concern for another person; the kind of sympathy
which results therefrom is nothing but a disease.
Thus there is also a Christian hypochondria, which
afflicts those solitary, religiously-minded people
who keep constantly before their eyes the suffer-
ings and death of Christ.


## p. 67 (#111) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SEXTIMEXTS. 67
r
Economy of Goodxess. —Goodness and lore,
as the most healing herbs and powers in human
intercourse, are such costly discoveries that one
would wish as much economy as possible to be
exercised in the employment of these balsamic
'means; but this is impossible. The economy
of goodness is the dream of the most daring
Utopians.
49-
GOODWILL. —Amongst the small, but count-
lessly frequent and therefore very effective, things
to which science should pay more attention than
to the great, rare things, is to be reckoned good-
will; I mean that exhibition of a friendly dis-
position in intercourse, that smiling eye, that clasp
of the hand, that cheerfulness with which almost
* all human actions are usually accompanied.
Every teacher, every official, adds this to whatever
is his duty; it is the perpetual occupation of
'humanity, and at the same time the waves of its
light, in which everything grows; in the narrowest
circle, namely, within the family, life blooms and
nourishes only through that goodwill. Kindli-
ness, friendliness, the courtesy of the heart, are
ever-flowing streams of un-egoistic impulses, and
* have given far more powerful assistance to culture
than even those much more famous demonstra-
tions which are called pity, mercy, and self-
sacrifice. But they are thought little of, and, as a
matter of fact, there is not much that is un-egoistic
y
UJ


## p. 68 (#112) #############################################

68 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
in them. The sum of these small doses is never- i
theless mighty, their united force is amongst the
strongest forces. Thus one finds much more
happiness in the world than sad eyes see, if one
only reckons rightly, and does not forget all those
moments of comfort in which every day is rich,
even in the most harried of human lives.
50.
The Wish to arouse Pity. —In the most
remarkable passage of his auto - portrait (first
printed in 1658), La Rochefoucauld assuredly
hits the nail on the head when he warns all
sensible people against pity, when he advises them
to leave that to those orders of the people who
have need of passion (because it is not ruled by
reason), and to reach the point of helping the
suffering and acting energetically in an accident;
while pity, according to his (and Plato's) judgment,
f weakens the soul. Certainly we should exhibit
» pity, but take good care not to feel it, for the
unfortunate are so stupid that to them the
exhibition of pity is the greatest good in the
world. One can, perhaps, give a more forcible
warning against this feeling of pity if one looks *
upon that need of the unfortunate not exactly as
stupidity and lack of intellect, a kind of mental
derangement which misfortune brings with it (and
as such, indeed, La Rochefoucauld appears to
regard it), but as something quite different and
more serious. Observe children, who cry and
scream in order to be pitied, and therefore wait


## p. 69 (#113) #############################################

THE H1IE |ST0RY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 69
>
!
(or tk mP moment when they will be noticed; live in
interco'WTJrse with the sick and mentally oppressed,
and as; jk yourself whether that ready complaining
and \t jhimpering, that making a show of mis-
fortune f, does not, at bottom, aim at making the
special fors miserable; the pity which the spectators
then e'jxhibit is in so far a consolation for the weak . ;
and s "differing in that the latter recognise therein'1^* \ \
that tljjiey possess still one power, in spite of their" ^ iiOv
weakme. ss, the power of giving pain. The un- v*^'
fortunlate derives a sort of pleasure from this
feeling of superiority, of which the exhibition of
pityT makes him conscious; his imagination is
exal ted, he is still powerful enough to give the
wor d pain. Thus the thirst for pity is the thirst
for self-gratification, and that, moreover, at the
exp ;nse of his fellow-men; it shows man in the
who le inconsiderateness of his own dear self, but
not exactly in his "stupidity," as La Rochefou-
cauld thinks. In society-talk three-fourths of all
questions asked and of all answers given are
intended to cause the interlocutor a little pain;
for /this reason so many people pine for company;
it enables them to feel their power. There is a
powerful charm of life in such countless but very
small doses in which malice makes itself felt, just
as goodwill, spread in the same way throughout
the world, is the ever-ready means of healing.
But are there many honest people who will admit
that it is pleasing to give pain? that one not
infrequently amuses one's self—and amuses one's
self very well—in causing mortifications to others,
at least in thought, and firing off at them the


## p. 70 (#114) #############################################

JO HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN. I are too
Jiything
grape-shot of petty malice? Most people! ^at
dishonest, and a few are too good, to know z-msacfaz
of this pudendum; these will always deii. fa-re
Prosper Merim^e is right when he says,
aussi qu'il n'y a rien de plus commun que
le malpour leplaisir de le faire"
ITY. —
|ren in
inking
his
own
one
Si-
How Appearance becomes Actual:
The actor finally reaches such a point that e4|anj
the deepest sorrow he cannot cease from thiJL at
about the impression made by his own person
the general scenic effect; for instance, eve
the funeral of his child, he will weep over
own sorrow and its expression like one of his Lte'
audience. The hypocrite, who always plays I are
and the same part, ceases at last to be a hypocLtes
for instance, priests, who as young men Louj
generally conscious or unconscious hypocAoes
become at last natural, and are then really witM^
any affectation, just priests; or if the father (■j1;s
not succeed so far, perhaps the son does, ¥s t0
makes use of his father's progress and inheritsL je
habits. If any one long and obstinately desire
appear something, he finds it difficult at last tl
anything else. The profession of almost ev^-
individual, even of the artist, begins with hypocrisy
with an imitating from without, with a copying o
the effective. He who always wears the masl
of a friendly expression must eventually obtaii
a power over well-meaning dispositions withou
which the expression of friendliness is not to b<
aery


## p. 71 (#115) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. JI
compelled,—and finally, these, again, obtain a
power over him, he is well-meaning.
52.
The Point of Honour in Deception. —
In all great deceivers one thing is noteworthy, to
which they owe their power. In the actual act of
deception, with all their preparations, the dreadful
voice, expression, and mien, in the midst of their
effective scenery they are overcome by their belief
in themselves; it is this, then, which speaks so
wonderfully and persuasively to the spectators.
The founders of religions are distinguished from
those great deceivers in that they never awake
from their condition of self-deception; or at times,
but very rarely, they have an enlightened moment
when doubt overpowers them; they generally
console themselves, however, by ascribing these
enlightened moments to the influence of the Evil
One. There must be self-deception in order that
this and that may produce great effects. For men
believe in the truth of everything that is visibly,
strongly believed in.
53-
The Nominal Degrees of Truth. —One
of the commonest mistakes is this: because some
one is truthful and honest towards us, he must
speak the truth. Thus the child believes in its
parents' judgment, the Christian in the assertions
of the Founder of the Church. In the same way
men refuse to admit that all those things which
men defended in former ages with the sacrifice of
r


## p. 72 (#116) #############################################

72
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
life and happiness were nothing but errors; it is
even said, perhaps, that they were degrees of the
truth. But what is really meant is that when a
man has honestly believed in something, and has
fought and died for his faith, it would really be
too unjust if he had only been inspired by an
error. Such a thing seems a contradiction of
eternal justice; therefore the heart of sensitive
man ever enunciates against his head the axiom:
between moral action and intellectual insight there
must absolutely be a necessary connection. It is
\ unfortunately otherwise; for there is no eternal
1 justice.
54-
/ Falsehood. —Why do people mostly speak
if- the truth in daily life ? —Assuredly not because a
god has forbidden falsehood. But, firstly, because
\^ it is more convenient, as falsehood requires inven-
tion, deceit, and memory. (As Swift says, he
who tells a lie is not sensible how great a task
he undertakes; for in order to uphold one
lie he must invent twenty others. ) Therefore,
because it is advantageous in upright circum-
stances to say straight out, "I want this, I have
done that," and so on; because, in other words,
the path of compulsion and authority is surer than
that of cunning. But if a child has been brought
up in complicated domestic circumstances, he em-
ploys falsehood, naturally and unconsciously says
whatever best suits his interests; a sense of truth
and a hatred of falsehood are quite foreign and
unknown to him, and so he lies in all innocence.
%


## p. 73 (#117) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 73
55-
Throwing Suspicion on Morality for
Faith's Sake. —No power can be maintained
when it is only represented by hypocrites; no
matter how many " worldly " elements the Catholic
Church possesses, its strength lies in those still
numerous priestly natures who render life hard
and full of meaning for themselves, and whose
glance and worn bodies speak of nocturnal vigils,
hunger, burning prayers, and perhaps even of
scourging; these move men and inspire them
with fear. What if it were necessary to live thus?
This is the terrible question which their aspect
brings to the lips. Whilst they spread this doubt
they always uprear another pillar of their power;
even the free-thinker does not dare to withstand
such unselfishness with hard words of truth, and to
say, " Thyself deceived, deceive not others! " Only
the difference of views divides them from him,
certainly no difference of goodness or badness;
but men generally treat unjustly that which they
do not like. Thus we speak of the cunning and
the infamous art of the Jesuits, but overlook the
self-control which every individual Jesuit practises,
and the fact that the lightened manner of life
preached by Jesuit books is by no means for their
benefit, but for that of the laity. We may even
ask whether, with precisely similar tactics and
organisation, we enlightened ones would make
equally good tools, equally admirable through
self-conquest, indefatigableness, and renunciation.


## p. 74 (#118) #############################################

74
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
AA Victory of
yM Evil. —It is of;
W
^
. vj
56.
of Knowledge over Radical
great advantage to him who de-
sires to be wise to have witnessed for a time the
spectacle of a thoroughly evil and degenerate man;
it is false, like the contrary spectacle, but for whole
long periods it held the mastery, and its roots have
even extended and ramified themselves to us and
our world. In order to understand ourselves we
must understand it; but then, in order to mount
higher we must rise above it. We recognise, then,
that there exist no sins in the metaphysical sense;
but, in the same sense, also no virtues; we recog-
nise that the entire domain of ethical ideas is
perpetually tottering, that there are higher and
deeper conceptions of good and evil, of moral and
immoral. He who does not desire much more
from things than a knowledge of them easily
makes peace with his soul, and will make a mis-
take (or commit a sin, as the world calls it) at
the most from ignorance, but hardly from covetous-
ness. He will no longer wish to excommunicate
and exterminate desires; but his only, his wholly
dominating ambition, to know as well as possible
at all times, will make him cool and will soften
all the savageness in his disposition. Moreover,
he has been freed from a number of tormenting
conceptions, he has no more feeling at the mention
of the words " punishments of hell," "sinfulness,"
"incapacity for good," he recognises in them only
the vanishing shadow-pictures of false views of
the world and of life.


## p. 75 (#119) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 7J
57-
Morality as the Self-Disintegration of
Man. —A good author, who really has his heart in
his work, wishes that some one could come and
annihilate him by representing the same thing in
a clearer way and answering without more ado
the problems therein proposed. The loving girl
wishes she could prove the self-sacrificing faithful-
ness of her love by the unfaithfulness of her
beloved. The soldier hopes to die on the field of
battle for his victorious fatherland; for his loftiest
desires triumph in the victory of his country.
The mother gives to the child that of which she
deprives herself—sleep, the best food, sometimes
her health and fortune. But are all these un-
egoistic conditions? Are these deeds of morality
miracles, because, to use Schopenhauer's expres-
sion, they are "impossible and yet performed "?
Is it not clear that in all four cases the individual
loves something of himself, a thought, a desire, a
production, better than anything else of himself;
that he therefore divides his nature and to one
part sacrifices all the rest? Is it something
entirely different when an obstinate man says, "I
would rather be shot than move a step out of my
way for this man "? The desire for something
(wish, inclination, longing) is present in all the
instances mentioned; to give way to it, with all
its consequences, is certainly not "un-egoistic. "
—In ethics man does not consider himself as
individuum but as dividuiim.
r


## p. 76 (#120) #############################################

/6 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
58.
What One may Promise. —One may promise
(actions, but no sentiments, for these are involun-
tary. Whoever promises to love or hate a person,
or be faithful to him for ever, promises something
which is not within his power; he can certainly
promise such actions as are usually the results of
love, hate, or fidelity, but which may also spring
from other motives; for many ways and motives
lead to one and the same action. The promise
to love some one for ever is, therefore, really: So
long as I love you I will act towards you in a
loving way; if I cease to love you, you will still
receive the same treatment from me, although
inspired by other motives, so that our fellow-men
will still be deluded into the belief that our love
is unchanged and ever the same. One promises,
therefore, the continuation of the semblance of
love, when, without self-deception, one speaks vows
of eternal love.
59-
Intellect and Morality. —One must have
a good memory to be able to keep a given promise.
One must have a strong power of imagination to
be able to feel pity. So closely is morality bound
to the goodness of the intellect.
60.
J To wish for Revenge and to take Re-
venge. —To have a revengeful thought and to


## p. 77 (#121) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 77
carry it into effect is to have a violent attack of
fever, which passes off, however,—but to have a
revengeful thought without the strength and
courage to carry it out is a chronic disease, a
poisoning of body and soul which we have to
bear about with us. Morality, which only takes
intentions into account, considers the two cases
as equal; usually the former case is regarded as
the worse (because of the evil consequences which
may perhaps result from the deed of revenge).
Both estimates are short-sighted.
61.
"The Power of Waiting. —Waiting is so
difficult that even great poets have not disdained
to take incapability of waiting as the motive for
their works. Thus Shakespeare in Othello or
Sophocles in Ajax, to whom suicide, had he been
able to let his feelings cool down for one day,
would no longer have seemed necessary, as the
oracle intimated; he would probably have snapped
his fingers at the terrible whisperings of wounded
vanity, and said to himself, " Who has not already,
in my circumstances, mistaken a fool for a hero?
Is it something so very extraordinary? " On the
contrary, it is something very commonly human;
Ajax might allow himself that consolation. Passion
will not wait; the tragedy in the lives of great men
frequently lies not in their conflict with the times
and the baseness of their fellow-men, but in their
incapacity of postponing their work for a year or
two; they cannot wait. In all duels advising


## p. 78 (#122) #############################################

78 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
friends have one thing to decide, namely whether
the parties concerned can still wait awhile; if this
is not the case, then a duel is advisable, inasmuch
as each of the two says," Either I continue to live
and that other man must die immediately, or vice
versa" In such case waiting would mean a pro-
longed suffering of the terrible martyrdom of
wounded honour in the face of the insulter, and
this may entail more suffering than life is worth.
62.
Revelling in Vengeance. —Coarser individ-
uals who feel themselves insulted, make out the
insult to be as' great as possible, and relate the
affair in greatly exaggerated language, in order to
be able to revel thoroughly in the rarely awakened
feelings of hatred and revenge.
63.
The Value of Disparagement. —In order
to maintain their self-respect in their own eyes and
a certain thoroughness of action, not a few men,
perhaps even the majority, find it absolutely
necessary to run down and disparage all their
acquaintances. But as mean natures are numer-
ous, and since it is very important whether they
possess that thoroughness or lose it, hence
64.
The Man in a Passion. —We must beware of
one who is in a passion against us as of one who


## p. 79 (#123) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 79
has once sought our life; for the fact that we still
live is due to the absence of power to kill,—if looks
would suffice, we should have been dead long ago.
It is a piece of rough civilisation to force some one
* into silence by the exhibition of physical savage-
ness and the inspiring of fear. That cold glance
which exalted persons employ towards their
servants is also a relic of that caste division be-
tween man and man, a piece of rough antiquity;
'women, the preservers of ancient things, have also
* faithfully retained this survival of an ancient
, habit.
65.
Whither Honesty can Lead. —Somebody
» had the bad habit of occasionally talking quite
\M frankly about the motives of his actions, which
were as good and as bad as the motives of most
men. He first gave offence, then aroused sus--
picion, was then gradually excluded from society
and declared a social outlaw, until at last justice
remembered such an abandoned creature, on
occasions when it would otherwise have had no
eyes, or would have closed them. The lack of
power to hold his tongue concerning the common
secret, and the irresponsible tendency to see what
no one wishes to see—himself—brought him to a
prison and an early death.
v 66.
r
Punishable, but never Punished. —Our
crime against criminals lies in the fact that we
treat them like rascals.


## p. 80 (#124) #############################################

80 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Sancta simplicitas of Virtue. — Every
virtue has its privileges; for example, that of
contributing its own little faggot to the scaffold
of every condemned man.
68.
Morality and Consequences. —It is not
only the spectators of a deed who frequently judge
of its morality or immorality according to its
consequences, but the doer of the deed himself
does so. For the motives and intentions are
seldom sufficiently clear and simple, and some-
times memory itself seems clouded by the con-
sequences of the deed, so that one ascribes the
deed to false motives or looks upon unessential
motives as essential. Success often gives an
action the whole honest glamour of a good
conscience; failure casts the shadow of re-
morse over the most estimable deed. Hence
arises the well-known practice of the politician,
who thinks, "Only grant me success, with that
I bring all honest souls over to my side and
make myself honest in my own eyes. " In
the same way success must replace a better
argument. Many educated people still believe
that the triumph of Christianity over Greek
philosophy is a proof of the greater truthfulness
of the former,—although in this case it is only
the coarser and more powerful that has triumphed
over the more spiritual and delicate. Which pos-


## p. 81 (#125) #############################################

THE HISTORY OF THE MORAL SENTIMENTS. 8l
sesses the greater truth may be seen from the fact
that the awakening sciences have agreed with
Epicurus' philosophy on point after point, but on
point after point have rejected Christianity.
69.
Love and Justice. —Why do we over-esti-
mate love to the disadvantage of justice, and say
the most beautiful things about it, as if it were
something very much higher than the latter? Is
it not visibly more stupid than justice? Certainly,
but precisely for that reason all the pleasanter for
every one. It is blind, and possesses an abundant
cornucopia, out of which it distributes its gifts to
all, even if they do not deserve them, even if they
express no thanks for them. It is as impartial as
the rain, which, according to the Bible and experi-
ence, makes not only the unjust, but also occasion-
ally the just wet through to the skin.
70.
EXECUTION. —How is it that every execution
offends us more than does a murder? It is the
coldness of the judges, the painful preparations,
the conviction that a human being is here being
used as a warning to scare others. For the guilt
is not punished, even if it existed—it lies with
educators, parents, surroundings, in ourselves, not
in the murderer—I mean the determining cir-
cumstances.
VOL. 1. F


## p. 82 (#126) #############################################

82 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
Hope. —Pandora brought the box of ills and
opened it. It was the gift of the gods to men,
outwardly a beautiful and seductive gift, and called
the Casket of Happiness. Out of it flew all the
evils, living winged creatures, thence they now
circulate and do men injury day and night. One
single evil had not yet escaped from the box, and
by the will of Zeus Pandora closed the lid and it
remained within. Now for ever man has the
casket of happiness in his house and thinks he
holds a great treasure; it is at his disposal, he
stretches out his hand for it whenever he desires;
for he does not know the box which Pandora
brought was the casket of evil, and he believes the
ill which remains within to be the greatest blessing,
—it is hope. Zeus did not wish man, however
much he might be tormented by the other evils,
to fling away his life, but to go on letting himself
be tormented again and again. Therefore he gives
man hope,—in reality it is the worst of all evils,
because it prolongs the torments of man.
72.
The Degree of Moral Inflammability
Unknown.