book apply as much to England as to Germany. Classical teachers here
may not be rated so high as they are in Germany; but their influence
would appear to be equally powerful, and their theories of education
and of classical antiquity equally chaotic. In England as in Germany
they are "theologians in disguise." The danger of modern "values" to
true culture may be readily gathered from a perusal of aphorisms that
follow: and, if these aphorisms enable even one scholar in a hundred to
enter more thoroughly into the spirit of a great past, they will not
have been penned in vain.
J. M. KENNEDY.
LONDON, _July,_1911.
1.
To what a great extent men are ruled by pure hazard, and how little
reason itself enters into the question, is sufficiently shown by
observing how few people have any real capacity for their professions
and callings, and how many square pegs there are in round holes: happy
and well chosen instances are quite exceptional, like happy marriages,
and even these latter are not brought about by reason. A man chooses
his calling before he is fitted to exercise his faculty of choice.
He does not know the number of different callings and professions
that exist; he does not know himself; and then he wastes his years
of activity in this calling, applies all his mind to it, and becomes
experienced and practical. When, afterwards, his understanding has
become fully developed, it is generally too late to start something
new; for wisdom on earth has almost always had something of the
weakness of old age and lack of vigour about it.
For the most part the task is to make good, and to set to rights as
well as possible, that which was bungled in the beginning. Many will
come to recognise that the latter part of their life shows a purpose
or design which has sprung from a primary discord: it is hard to live
through it Towards the end of his life, however, the average man has
become accustomed to it--then he may make a mistake in regard to
the life he has lived, and praise his own stupidity: _bene navigavi
cum naufragium feci:_ he may even compose a song of thanksgiving to
"Providence."
2
On inquiring into the origin of the philologist I find:
1. A young man cannot have the slightest conception of what the Greeks
and Romans were.
2. He does not know whether he is fitted to investigate into them;
3. And, in particular, he does not know to what extent, in view of
the knowledge he may actually possess, he is fitted to be a teacher.
What then enables him to decide is not the knowledge of himself or his
science; but
_(a)_ Imitation.
_(b)_ The convenience of carrying on the kind of
work which he had begun at school.
_(c)_ His intention of earning a living.
In short, ninety-nine philologists out of a hundred _should_ not be
philologists at all.
3
The more strict religions require that men shall look upon their
activity simply as one means of carrying out a metaphysical scheme: an
unfortunate choice of calling may then be explained as a test of the
individual. Religions keep their eyes fixed only upon the salvation of
the individual: whether he is a slave or a free man, a merchant or a
scholar, his aim in life has nothing to do with his calling, so that
a wrong choice is not such a very great piece of unhappiness. Let
this serve as a crumb of comfort for philologists in general; but true
philologists stand in need of a better understanding: what will result
from a science which is "gone in for" by ninety-nine such people?
The thoroughly unfitted majority draw up the rules of the science in
accordance with their own capacities and inclinations; and in this way
they tyrannise over the hundredth, the only capable one among them. If
they have the training of others in their hands they will train them
consciously or unconsciously after their own image: what then becomes
of the classicism of the Greeks and Romans?
The points to be proved are:--
_(a)_ The disparity between philologists and the ancients.
_(b)_ The inability of the philologist to train his pupils, even with
the help of the ancients.
_(c)_ The falsifying of the science by the (incapacity of the)
majority; the wrong requirements held in view; the renunciation of the
real aim of this science.
4
All this affects the sources of our present philology: a sceptical and
melancholy attitude. But how otherwise are philologists to be produced?
The imitation of antiquity: is not this a principle which has been
refuted by this time?
The flight from actuality to the ancients: does not this tend to
falsify our conception of antiquity?
5
We are still behindhand in one type of contemplation: to understand
how the greatest productions of the intellect have a dreadful and evil
background: the sceptical type of contemplation. Greek antiquity is now
investigated as the most beautiful example of life.
As man assumes a sceptical and melancholy attitude towards his life's
calling, _so_ we must sceptically examine the highest life's calling of
a nation: in order that we may understand what life is.
6
My words of consolation apply particularly to the single tyrannised
individual out of a hundred: such exceptional ones should simply treat
all the unenlightened majorities as their subordinates; and they
should in the same way take advantage of the prejudice, which is still
widespread, in favour of classical instruction--they need many helpers.
But they must have a clear perception of what their actual goal is.
7
Philology as the science of antiquity does not, of course, endure for
ever; its elements are not inexhaustible. What cannot be exhausted,
however, is the ever-new adaptation of one's age to antiquity; the
comparison of the two. If we make it our task to understand our own
age better by means of antiquity, then our task will be an everlasting
one.--This is the antinomy of philology: people have always endeavoured
to understand antiquity by means of the present--and shall the present
now be understood by-means of antiquity? Better: people have explained
antiquity to themselves out of their own experiences; and from the
amount of antiquity thus acquired they have assessed the value of
their experiences. Experience, therefore, is certainly an essential
pre-requisite for a philologist--that is, the philologist must first of
all be a man; for then only can he be productive as a philologist. It
follows from this that old men are well suited to be philologists if
they were not such during that portion of their life which was richest
in experiences.
It must be insisted, however, that it is only through a knowledge
of the present that one can acquire an inclination for the study of
classical antiquity. Where indeed should the impulse come from if not
from this inclination? When we observe how few philologists there
actually are, except those that have taken up philology as a means of
livelihood, we can easily decide for ourselves what is the matter with
this impulse for antiquity: it hardly exists at all, for there are no
disinterested philologists.
Our task then is to secure for philology the universally educative
results which it should bring about. The means: the limitation of
the number of those engaged in the philological profession (doubtful
whether young men should be made acquainted with philology at all).
Criticism of the philologist. The value of antiquity: it sinks with
you: how deeply you must have sunk, since its value is now so little!
8
It is a great advantage for the true philologist that a great deal
of preliminary work has been done in his science, so that he may
take possession of this inheritance if he is strong enough for it--I
refer to the valuation of the entire Hellenic mode of thinking. So
long as philologists worked simply at details, a misunderstanding of
the Greeks was the consequence. The stages of this under-valuation
are: the sophists of the second century, the philologist-poets of the
Renaissance, and the philologist as the teacher of the higher classes
of society (Goethe, Schiller).
Valuing is the most difficult of all.
In what respect is one most fitted for this valuing?--Not, at all
events, when one is trained for philology as one is now. It should be
ascertained to what extent our present means make this last object
impossible.--Thus the philologist himself is not the aim of philology.
9
Most men show clearly enough that they do not regard themselves as
individuals: their lives indicate this. The Christian command that
everyone shall steadfastly keep his eyes fixed upon his salvation, and
his alone, has as its counterpart the general life of mankind, where
every man lives merely as a point among other points--living not only
as the result of earlier generations, but living also only with an
eye to the future. There are only three forms of existence in which
a man remains an individual: as a philosopher, as a Saviour, and as
an artist. But just let us consider how a scientific man bungles his
life: what has the teaching of Greek particles to do with the sense
of life?--Thus we can also observe how innumerable men merely live, as
it were, a preparation for a man: the philologist, for example, as a
preparation for the philosopher, who in his turn knows how to utilise
his ant-like work to pronounce some opinion upon the value of life.
When such ant-like work is not carried out under any special direction
the greater part of it is simply nonsense, and quite superfluous.
10
Besides the large number of unqualified philologists there is, on the
other hand, a number of what may be called born philologists, who from
some reason or other are prevented from becoming such. The greatest
obstacle, however, which stands in the way of these born philologists
is the bad representation of philology by the unqualified philologists.
Leopardi is the modern ideal of a philologist: The German philologists
can do nothing. (As a proof of this Voss should be studied!)
11
Let it be considered how differently a science is propagated from the
way in which any special talent in a family is transmitted. The bodily
transmission of an individual science is something very rare. Do the
sons of philologists easily become philologists? _Dubito._ Thus there
is no such accumulation of philological capacity as there was, let us
say, in Beethoven's family of musical capacity. Most philologists
begin from the beginning; and even then they learn from books, and not
through travels, &c. They get some training, of course.
12
Most men are obviously in the world accidentally: no necessity of a
higher kind is seen in them. They work at this and that; their talents
are average. How strange! The manner in which they live shows that they
think very little of themselves: they merely esteem themselves in so
far as they waste their energy on trifles (whether these be mean or
frivolous desires, or the trashy concerns of their everyday calling).
In the so-called life's calling, which everyone must choose, we may
perceive a touching modesty on the part of mankind. They practically
admit in choosing thus: "We are called upon to serve and to be of
advantage to our equals--the same remark applies to our neighbour and
to his neighbour; so everyone serves somebody else; no one is carrying
out the duties of his calling for his own sake, but always for the sake
of others: and thus we are like geese which support one another by
the one leaning against the other. _When the aim of each one of us is
centred in another, then we have all no object in existing;_ and this
'existing for others' is the most comical of comedies."
13
Vanity is the involuntary inclination to set one's self up for an
individual while not really being one; that is to say, trying to appear
independent when one is dependent. The case of wisdom is the exact
contrary: it appears to be dependent while in reality it is independent.
14
The Hades of Homer--From what type of existence is it really copied? I
think it is the description of the philologist: it is better to be a
day-labourer than to have such an anæmic recollection of the past.--[1]
[Footnote 1: No doubt a reminiscence of the "Odyssey," Bk. ix.--TR.]
15
The attitude of the philologist towards antiquity is apologetic, or
else dictated by the view that what our own age values can likewise
be found in antiquity. The right attitude to take up, however, is
the reverse one, viz., to start with an insight into our modern
topsyturviness, and to look back from antiquity to it--and many things
about antiquity which have hitherto displeased us will then be seen to
have been most profound necessities.
We must make it clear to ourselves that we are acting in an absurd
manner when we try to defend or to beautify antiquity: _who_ are we!
16
We are under a false impression when we say that there is always some
caste which governs a nation's culture, and that therefore savants are
necessary; for savants only possess knowledge concerning culture (and
even this only in exceptional cases). Among learned men themselves
there might be a few, certainly not a caste, but even these would
indeed be rare.
17
One very great value of antiquity consists in the fact that its
writings are the only ones which modern men still read carefully.
Overstraining of the memory--very common among philologists, together
with a poor development of the judgment.
18
Busying ourselves with the culture-epochs of the past: is this
gratitude? We should look backwards in order to explain to ourselves
the present conditions of culture: we do not become too laudatory in
regard to our own circumstances, but perhaps we should do so in order
that we may not be too severe on ourselves.
19
He who has no sense for the symbolical has none for antiquity: let
pedantic philologists bear this in mind.
20
My aim is to bring about a state of complete enmity between our present
"culture" and antiquity. Whoever wishes to serve the former must hate
the latter.
21
Careful meditation upon the past leads to the impression that we are
a multiplication of many pasts: so how can we be a final aim? But why
not? In most instances, however, we do not wish to be this. We take up
our positions again in the ranks, work in our own little corner, and
hope that what we do may be of some small profit to our successors. But
that is exactly the case of the cask of the Danæ: and this is useless,
we must again set about doing everything for ourselves, and only
for ourselves--measuring science by ourselves, for example with the
question: What is science to us? not: what are we to science? People
really make life too easy for themselves when they look upon themselves
from such a simple historical point of view, and make humble servants
of themselves. "Your own salvation above everything"--that is what you
should say; and there are no institutions which you should prize more
highly than your own soul.--Now, however, man learns to know himself:
he finds himself miserable, despises himself, and is pleased to find
something worthy of respect outside himself. Therefore he gets rid of
himself, so to speak, makes himself subservient to a cause, does his
duty strictly, and atones for his existence. He knows that he does not
work for himself alone; he wishes to help those who are daring enough
to exist on account of themselves, like Socrates. The majority of men
are as it were suspended in the air like toy balloons; every breath
of wind moves them.--As a consequence the savant must be such out of
self-knowledge, that is to say, out of contempt for himself--in other
words he must recognise himself to be merely the servant of some higher
being who comes after him. Otherwise he is simply a sheep.
22
It is the duty of the free man to live for his own sake, and not for
others. It was on this account that the Greeks looked upon handicrafts
as unseemly.
As a complete entity Greek antiquity has not yet been fully valued:
I am convinced that if it had not been surrounded by its traditional
glorification, the men of the present day would shrink from it horror
stricken. This glorification, then, is spurious; gold-paper.
23
The false enthusiasm for antiquity in which many philologists live.
When antiquity suddenly comes upon us in our youth, it appears to us
to be composed of innumerable trivialities; in particular we believe
ourselves to be above its ethics. And Homer and Walter Scott--who
carries off the palm? Let us be honest! If this enthusiasm were really
felt, people could scarcely seek their life's calling in it. I mean
that what we can obtain from the Greeks only begins to dawn upon us in
later years: only after we have undergone many experiences, and thought
a great deal.
24
People in general think that philology is at an end--while I believe
that it has not yet begun.
The greatest events in philology are the appearance of Goethe,
Schopenhauer, and Wagner; standing on their shoulders we look far into
the distance The fifth and sixth centuries have still to be discovered.
25
Where do we see the effect of antiquity? Not in language, not in the
imitation of something or other, and not in perversity and waywardness,
to which uses the French have turned it. Our museums are gradually
becoming filled up: I always experience a sensation of disgust when
I see naked statues in the Greek style in the presence of this
thought-less philistinism which would fain devour everything.
PLANS AND THOUGHTS RELATING TO A WORK ON PHILOLOGY
(1875)
26
Of all sciences philology at present is the most favoured: its progress
having been furthered for centuries by the greatest number of scholars
in every nation who have had charge of the noblest pupils. Philology
has thus had one of the best of all opportunities to be propagated from
generation to generation, and to make itself respected. How has it
acquired this power?
Calculations of the different prejudices in its favour.
How then if these were to be frankly recognised as prejudices? Would
not philology be superfluous if we reckoned up the interests of a
position in life or the earning of a livelihood? What if the truth were
told about antiquity, and its qualifications for training people to
live in the present?
In order that the questions set forth above may be answered let us
consider the training of the philologist, his genesis: he no longer
comes into being where these interests are lacking.
If the world in general came to know what an unseasonable thing for us
antiquity really is, philologists would no longer be called in as the
educators of our youth.
Effect of antiquity on the non-philologist likewise nothing. If they
showed themselves to be imperative and contradictory, oh, with what
hatred would they be pursued! But they always humble themselves.
Philology now derives its power only from the union between the
philologists who will not, or cannot, understand antiquity and public
opinion, which is misled by prejudices in regard to it.
The real Greeks, and their "watering down" through the philologists.
The future commanding philologist sceptical in regard to our entire
culture, and therefore also the destroyer of philology as a profession.
THE PREFERENCE FOR ANTIQUITY
27
If a man approves of the investigation of the past he will also approve
and even praise the fact--and will above all easily understand it--that
there are scholars who are exclusively occupied with the investigation
of Greek and Roman antiquity: but that these scholars are at the same
time the teachers of the children of the nobility and gentry is not
equally easy of comprehension--here lies a problem.
Why philologists precisely? This is not altogether such a matter
of course as the case of a professor of medicine, who is also a
practical physician and surgeon. For, if the cases were identical,
preoccupation with Greek and Roman antiquity would be identical with
the "science of education." In short the relationship between theory
and practice in the philologist cannot be so quickly conceived. Whence
comes his pretension to be a teacher in the higher sense, not only
of all scientific men, but more especially of all cultured men? This
educational power must be taken by the philologist from antiquity; and
in such a case people will ask with astonishment: how does it come that
we attach such value to a far-off past that we can only become cultured
men with the aid of its knowledge?
These questions, however, are not asked as a rule: The sway of
philology over our means of instruction remains practically
unquestioned; and antiquity _has_ the importance assigned to it. To
this extent the position of the philologist is more favourable than
that of any other follower of science. True, he has not at his disposal
that great mass of men who stand in need of him--the doctor, for
example, has far more than the philologist. But he can influence picked
men, or youths, to be more accurate, at a time when all their mental
faculties are beginning to blossom forth--people who can afford to
devote both time and money to their higher development. In all those
places where European culture has found its way, people have accepted
secondary schools based upon a foundation of Latin and Greek as the
first and highest means of instruction. In this way philology has found
its best opportunity of transmitting itself, and commanding respect:
no other science has been so well favoured. As a general rule all
those who have passed through such institutions have afterwards borne
testimony to the excellence of their organisation and curriculum,
and such people are, of course, unconscious witnesses in favour of
philology. If any who have not passed through these institutions should
happen to utter a word in disparagement of this education, an unanimous
and yet calm repudiation of the statement at once follows, as if
classical education were a kind of witchcraft, blessing its followers,
and demonstrating itself to them by this blessing. There is no attempt
at polemics: "We have been through it all." "We know it has done us
good."
Now there are so many things to which men have become so accustomed
that they look upon them as quite appropriate and suitable, for habit
intermixes all things with sweetness; and men as a rule judge the
value of a thing in accordance with their own desires. The desire for
classical antiquity as it is now felt should be tested, and, as it
were, taken to pieces and analysed with a view to seeing how much of
this desire is due to habit, and how much to mere love of adventure--I
refer to that inward and active desire, new and strange, which gives
rise to a productive conviction from day to day, the desire for a
higher goal, and also the means thereto: as the result of which people
advance step by step from one unfamiliar thing to another, like an
Alpine climber.
What is the foundation on which the high value attached to antiquity
at the present time is based, to such an extent indeed that our whole
modern culture is founded on it? Where must we look for the origin of
this delight in antiquity, and the preference shown for it?
I think I have recognised in my examination of the question that all
our philology--that is, all its present existence and power--is based
on the same foundation as that on which our view of antiquity as the
most important of all means of training is based. Philology as a means
of instruction is the clear expression of a predominating conception
regarding the value of antiquity, and the best methods of education.
Two propositions are contained in this statement: In the first place
all higher education must be a historical one; and secondly, Greek and
Roman history differs from all others in that it is classical. Thus the
scholar who knows this history becomes a teacher. We are not here going
into the question as to whether higher education ought to be historical
or not; but we may examine the second and ask: in how far is it classic?
On this point there are many widespread prejudices. In the first place
there is the prejudice expressed in the synonymous concept, "The study
of the humanities": antiquity is classic because it is the school of
the humane.
Secondly: "Antiquity is classic because it is enlightened----"
28