_own_ ideal and derive from it his laws, his pleasures and his
rights—_that_ has perhaps been hitherto regarded as the most monstrous
of all human aberrations, and as idolatry in itself; in fact, the few
who have ventured to do this have always needed to apologise to
themselves, usually in this wise: "Not I! not I! but _a God_, through my
instrumentality!" It was in the marvellous art and capacity for creating
Gods—in polytheism—that this impulse was permitted to discharge itself,
it was here that it became purified, perfected, and ennobled; for it was
originally a commonplace and unimportant impulse, akin to stubbornness,
disobedience and envy. To be _hostile_ to this impulse towards the
individual ideal,—that was formerly the law of every morality. There was
then only one norm, "the man"—and every people believed that it _had_
this one and ultimate norm. But above himself, and outside of himself,
in a distant over-world, a person could see a _multitude of norms_: the
one God was not the denial or blasphemy of the other Gods! It was here
that individuals were first permitted, it was here that the right of
individuals was first respected. The inventing of Gods, heroes and
supermen of all kinds, as well as co-ordinate men and undermen—dwarfs,
fairies, centaurs, satyrs, demons, devils—was the inestimable
preliminary to the justification of the selfishness and sovereignty of
the individual: the freedom which was granted to one God in respect to
other Gods, was at last given to the individual himself in respect to
laws, customs and neighbours. Monotheism, on the contrary, the rigid
consequence of the doctrine of one normal human being—consequently the
belief in a normal God, beside whom there are only false, spurious
Gods—has perhaps been the greatest danger of mankind in the past: man
was then threatened by that premature state of inertia, which, so far as
we can see, most of the other species of animals reached long ago, as
creatures who all believe in one normal animal and ideal in their
species, and definitely translated their morality of custom into flesh
and blood. In polytheism man's free-thinking and many-sided thinking had
a prototype set up: the power to create for himself new and individual
eyes, always newer and more individualised: so that it is for man alone,
of all the animals, that there are no _eternal_ horizons and
perspectives.
144.
_Religious Wars._—The greatest advance of the masses hitherto has been
religious war, for it proves that the masses have begun to deal
reverently with conceptions of things. Religious wars only result, when
human reason generally has been refined by the subtle disputes of sects;
so that even the populace becomes punctilious and regards trifles as
important, actually thinking it possible that the "eternal salvation of
the soul" may depend upon minute distinctions of concepts.
145.
_Danger of Vegetarians._—The immense prevalence of rice-eating impels to
the use of opium and narcotics, in like manner as the immense prevalence
of potato-eating impels to the use of brandy:—it also impels, however,
in its more subtle after-effects to modes of thought and feeling which
operate narcotically. This is in accord with the fact that those who
promote narcotic modes of thought and feeling, like those Indian
teachers, praise a purely vegetable diet, and would like to make it a
law for the masses: they want thereby to call forth and augment the need
which _they_ are in a position to satisfy.
146.
_German Hopes._—Do not let us forget that the names of peoples are
generally names of reproach. The Tartars, for example, according to
their name, are "the dogs"; they were so christened by the Chinese.
"_Deutschen_" (Germans) means originally "heathen": it is thus that the
Goths after their conversion named the great mass of their unbaptized
fellow-tribes, according to the indication in their translation of the
Septuagint, in which the heathen are designated by the word which in
Greek signifies "the nations." (See Ulfilas.)—It might still be possible
for the Germans to make an honourable name ultimately out of their old
name of reproach, by becoming the first _non-Christian_ nation of
Europe; for which purpose Schopenhauer, to their honour, regarded them
as highly qualified. The work of _Luther_ would thus be consummated,—he
who taught them to be anti-Roman and to say: "Here _I_ stand! _I_ cannot
do otherwise!"—
147.
_Question and Answer._—What do savage tribes at present accept first of
all from Europeans? Brandy and Christianity, the European narcotics.—And
by what means are they fastest ruined?—By the European narcotics.
148.
_Where Reformations Originate._—At the time of the great corruption of
the church it was least of all corrupt in Germany: it was on that
account that the Reformation originated _here_, as a sign that even the
beginnings of corruption were felt to be unendurable. For, comparatively
speaking, no people was ever more Christian than the Germans at the time
of Luther; their Christian culture was just about to burst into bloom
with a hundred-fold splendour,—one night only was still lacking; but
that night brought the storm which put an end to all.
149.
_The Failure of Reformations._—It testifies to the higher culture of the
Greeks, even in rather early ages, that attempts to establish new
Grecian religions frequently failed; it testifies that quite early there
must have been a multitude of dissimilar individuals in Greece, whose
dissimilar troubles were not cured by a single recipe of faith and hope.
Pythagoras and Plato, perhaps also Empedocles, and already much earlier
the Orphic enthusiasts, aimed at founding new religions; and the two
first-named were so endowed with the qualifications for founding
religions, that one cannot be sufficiently astonished at their failure:
they just reached the point of founding sects. Every time that the
Reformation of an entire people fails and only sects raise their heads,
one may conclude that the people already contains many types, and has
begun to free itself from the gross herding instincts and the morality
of custom,—a momentous state of suspense, which one is accustomed to
disparage as decay of morals and corruption, while it announces the
maturing of the egg and the early rupture of the shell. That Luther's
Reformation succeeded in the north, is a sign that the north had
remained backward in comparison with the south of Europe, and still had
requirements tolerably uniform in colour and kind; and there would have
been no Christianising of Europe at all, if the culture of the old world
of the south had not been gradually barbarized by an excessive admixture
of the blood of German barbarians, and thus lost its ascendency. The
more universally and unconditionally an individual, or the thought of an
individual, can operate, so much more homogeneous and so much lower must
be the mass that is there operated upon; while counter-strivings betray
internal counter-requirements, which also want to gratify and realise
themselves. Reversely, one may always conclude with regard to an actual
elevation of culture, when powerful and ambitious natures only produce a
limited and sectarian effect: this is true also for the separate arts,
and for the provinces of knowledge. Where there is ruling there are
masses: where there are masses there is need of slavery. Where there is
slavery the individuals are but few, and have the instincts and
conscience of the herd opposed to them.
150.
_Criticism of Saints._—Must one then, in order to have a virtue, be
desirous of having it precisely in its most brutal form?—as the
Christian saints desired and needed;—those who only _endured_ life with
the thought that at the sight of their virtue self-contempt might seize
every man. A virtue with such an effect I call brutal.
151.
_The Origin of Religion._—The metaphysical requirement is not the origin
of religions, as Schopenhauer claims, but only a _later sprout_ from
them. Under the dominance of religious thoughts we have accustomed
ourselves to the idea of "another (back, under, or upper) world," and
feel an uncomfortable void and privation through the annihilation of the
religious illusion;—and then "another world" grows out of this feeling
once more, but now it is only a metaphysical world, and no longer a
religious one. That however which in general led to the assumption of
"another world" in primitive times, was _not_ an impulse or requirement,
but an _error_ in the interpretation of certain natural phenomena, a
difficulty of the intellect.
152.
_The greatest Change._—The lustre and the hues of all things have
changed! We no longer quite understand how earlier men conceived of the
most familiar and frequent things,—for example, of the day, and the
awakening in the morning: owing to their belief in dreams the waking
state seemed to them differently illuminated. And similarly of the whole
of life, with its reflection of death and its significance: our "death"
is an entirely different death. All events were of a different lustre,
for a God shone forth in them; and similarly of all resolutions and
peeps into the distant future: for people had oracles, and secret hints,
and believed in prognostication. "Truth" was conceived in quite a
different manner, for the insane could formerly be regarded as its
mouthpiece—a thing which makes _us_ shudder, or laugh. Injustice made a
different impression on the feelings: for people were afraid of divine
retribution, and not only of legal punishment and disgrace. What joy was
there in an age when men believed in the devil and tempter! What passion
was there when people saw demons lurking close at hand! What philosophy
was there when doubt was regarded as sinfulness of the most dangerous
kind, and in fact as an outrage on eternal love, as distrust of
everything good, high, pure, and compassionate!—We have coloured things
anew, we paint them over continually,—but what have we been able to do
hitherto in comparison with the _splendid colouring_ of that old
master!—I mean ancient humanity.
153.
_Homo poeta._—"I myself who have made this tragedy of tragedies
altogether independently, in so far as it is completed; I who have first
entwined the perplexities of morality about existence, and have
tightened them so that only a God could unravel them—so Horace
demands!—I have already in the fourth act killed all the Gods—for the
sake of morality! What is now to be done about the fifth act? Where
shall I get the tragic _dénouement_! Must I now think about a comic
_dénouement_?"
154.
_Differences in the Dangerousness of Life._—You don't know at all what
you experience; you run through life as if intoxicated, and now and then
fall down a stair. Thanks however to your intoxication you still do not
break your limbs: your muscles are too languid and your head too
confused to find the stones of the staircase as hard as we others do!
For us life is a greater danger: we are made of glass—alas, if we should
_strike against_ anything! And all is lost if we should _fall_!
155.
_What we Lack._—We love the _grandeur_ of Nature and have discovered it;
that is because human grandeur is lacking in our minds. It was the
reverse with the Greeks: their feeling towards Nature was quite
different from ours.
156.
_The most Influential Person._—The fact that a person resists the whole
spirit of his age, stops it at the door, and calls it to account, _must_
exert an influence! It is indifferent whether he wishes to exert an
influence; the point is that he _can_.
157.
_Mentiri._—Take care!—he reflects: he will have a lie ready immediately.
This is a stage in the civilisation of whole nations. Consider only what
the Romans expressed by _mentiri_!
158.
_An Inconvenient Peculiarity._—To find everything deep is an
inconvenient peculiarity: it makes one constantly strain one's eyes, so
that in the end one always finds more than one wishes.
159.
_Every Virtue has its Time._—The honesty of him who is at present
inflexible often causes him remorse; for inflexibility is the virtue of
a time different from that in which honesty prevails.
160.
_In Intercourse with Virtues._—One can also be undignified and
flattering towards a virtue.
161.
_To the Admirers of the Age._—The runaway priest and the liberated
criminal are continually making grimaces; what they want is a look
without a past.—But have you ever seen men who know that their looks
reflect the future, and who are so courteous to you, the admirers of the
"age," that they assume a look without a future.
162.
_Egoism._—Egoism is the _perspective_ law of our sentiment, according to
which the near appears large and momentous, while in the distance the
magnitude and importance of all things diminish.
163.
_After a Great Victory._—The best thing in a great victory is that it
deprives the conqueror of the fear of defeat. "Why should I not be
worsted for once?" he says to himself, "I am now rich enough to stand
it."
164.
_Those who Seek Repose._—I recognise the minds that seek repose by the
many _dark_ objects with which they surround themselves: those who want
to sleep darken their chambers, or creep into caverns. A hint to those
who do not know what they really seek most, and would like to know!
165.
_The Happiness of Renunciation._—He who has absolutely dispensed with
something for a long time will almost imagine, when he accidentally
meets with it again, that he has discovered it,—and what happiness every
discoverer has! Let us be wiser than the serpents that lie too long in
the same sunshine.
166.
_Always in our own Society._—All that is akin to me in nature and
history speaks to me, praises me, urges me forward and comforts me—:
other things are unheard by me, or immediately forgotten. We are only in
our own society always.
167.
_Misanthropy and Philanthropy._—We only speak about being sick of men
when we can no longer digest them, and yet have the stomach full of
them. Misanthropy is the result of a far too eager philanthropy and
"cannibalism,"—but who ever bade you swallow men like oysters, my Prince
Hamlet!
168.
_Concerning an Invalid._—"Things go badly with him!"—What is wrong?—"He
suffers from the longing to be praised, and finds no sustenance for
it."—Inconceivable! All the world does honour to him, and he is
reverenced not only in deed but in word!—"Certainly, but he is dull of
hearing for the praise. When a friend praises him it sounds to him as if
the friend praised himself; when an enemy praises him, it sounds to him
as if the enemy wanted to be praised for it; when, finally, some one
else praises him—there are by no means so many of these, he is so
famous!—he is offended because they neither want him for a friend nor
for an enemy; he is accustomed to say: 'What do I care for those who can
still pose as the all-righteous towards me!'"
169.
_Avowed Enemies._—Bravery in presence of an enemy is a thing by itself:
a person may possess it and still be a coward and an irresolute
numskull. That was Napoleon's opinion concerning the "bravest man" he
knew, Murat:—whence it follows that avowed enemies are indispensable to
some men, if they are to attain to _their_ virtue, to their manliness,
to their cheerfulness.
170.
_With the Multitude._—He has hitherto gone with the multitude and is its
panegyrist; but one day he will be its opponent! For he follows it in
the belief that his laziness will find its advantage thereby; he has not
yet learned that the multitude is not lazy enough for him! that it
always presses forward! that it does not allow any one to stand
still!—And he likes so well to stand still!
171.
_Fame._—When the gratitude of many to one casts aside all shame, then
fame originates.
172.
_The Perverter of Taste._—A: "You are a perverter of taste—they say so
everywhere!" B: "Certainly! I pervert every one's taste for his
party:—no party forgives me for that."
173.
_To be Profound and to Appear Profound._—He who knows that he is
profound strives for clearness; he who would like to appear profound to
the multitude strives for obscurity. The multitude thinks everything
profound of which it cannot see the bottom; it is so timid and goes so
unwillingly into the water.
174.
_Apart._—Parliamentarism, that is to say, the public permission to
choose between five main political opinions, insinuates itself into the
favour of the numerous class who would fain _appear_ independent and
individual, and like to fight for their opinions. After all, however, it
is a matter of indifference whether one opinion is imposed upon the
herd, or five opinions are permitted to it.—He who diverges from the
five public opinions and goes apart, has always the whole herd against
him.
175.
_Concerning Eloquence._—What has hitherto had the most convincing
eloquence? The rolling of the drum: and as long as kings have this at
their command, they will always be the best orators and popular leaders.
176.
_Compassion._—The poor, ruling princes! All their rights now change
unexpectedly into claims, and all these claims immediately sound like
pretensions! And if they but say "we," or "my people," wicked old Europe
begins laughing. Verily, a chief-master-of-ceremonies of the modern
world would make little ceremony with them; perhaps he would decree that
"_les souverains rangent aux parvenus_."
177.
_On "Educational Matters."_—In Germany an important educational means is
lacking for higher men; namely, the laughter of higher men; these men do
not laugh in Germany.
178.
_For Moral Enlightenment._—The Germans must be talked out of their
Mephistopheles—and out of their Faust also. These are two moral
prejudices against the value of knowledge.
179.
_Thoughts._—Thoughts are the shadows of our sentiments—always, however,
obscurer, emptier, and simpler.
180.
_The Good Time for Free Spirits._—Free Spirits take liberties even with
regard to Science—and meanwhile they are allowed to do so,—while the
Church still remains!—In so far they have now their good time.
181.
_Following and Leading._—A: "Of the two, the one will always follow, the
other will always lead, whatever be the course of their destiny. _And
yet_ the former is superior to the other in virtue and intellect." B:
"And yet? And yet? That is spoken for the others; not for me, not for
us!—_Fit secundum regulam._"
182.
_In Solitude._—When one lives alone one does not speak too loudly, and
one does not write too loudly either, for one fears the hollow
reverberation—the criticism of the nymph Echo.—And all voices sound
differently in solitude!
183.
_The Music of the Best Future._—The first musician for me would be he
who knew only the sorrow of the profoundest happiness, and no other
sorrow: there has not hitherto been such a musician.
184.
_Justice._—Better allow oneself to be robbed than have scarecrows around
one—that is my taste. And under all circumstances it is just a matter of
taste—and nothing more!
185.
_Poor._—He is now poor, but not because everything has been taken from
him, but because he has thrown everything away:—what does he care? He is
accustomed to find new things.—It is the poor who misunderstand his
voluntary poverty.
186.
_Bad Conscience._—All that he now does is excellent and proper—and yet
he has a bad conscience with it all. For the exceptional is his task.
187.
_Offensiveness in Expression._—This artist offends me by the way in
which he expresses his ideas, his very excellent ideas: so diffusely and
forcibly, and with such gross rhetorical artifices, as if he were
speaking to the mob. We feel always as if "in bad company" when devoting
some time to his art.
188.
_Work._—How close work and the workers now stand even to the most
leisurely of us! The royal courtesy in the words: "We are all workers,"
would have been a cynicism and an indecency even under Louis XIV.
189.
_The Thinker._—He is a thinker: that is to say, he knows how to take
things more simply than they are.
190.
_Against Eulogisers._—A: "One is only praised by one's equals!" B: "Yes!
And he who praises you says: 'You are my equal!'"
191.
_Against many a Vindication._—The most perfidious manner of injuring a
cause is to vindicate it intentionally with fallacious arguments.
192.
_The Good-natured._—What is it that distinguishes the good-natured,
whose countenances beam kindness, from other people? They feel quite at
ease in presence of a new person, and are quickly enamoured of him; they
therefore wish him well; their first opinion is: "He pleases me." With
them there follow in succession the wish to appropriate (they make
little scruple about the person's worth), rapid appropriation, joy in
the possession, and actions in favour of the person possessed.
193.
_Kant's Joke._—Kant tried to prove, in a way that dismayed "everybody,"
that "everybody" was in the right:—that was his secret joke. He wrote
against the learned, in favour of popular prejudice; he wrote, however,
for the learned and not for the people.
194.
_The "Open-hearted" Man._—That man acts probably always from concealed
motives; for he has always communicable motives on his tongue, and
almost in his open hand.
195.
_Laughable!_—See! See! He runs _away_ from men—: they follow him,
however, because he runs _before_ them,—they are such a gregarious lot!
196.
_The Limits of our Sense of Hearing._—We hear only the questions to
which we are capable of finding an answer.
197.
_Caution therefore!_—There is nothing we are fonder of communicating to
others than the seal of secrecy—together with what is under it.
198.
_Vexation of the Proud Man._—The proud man is vexed even with those who
help him forward: he looks angrily at his carriage-horses!
199.
_Liberality._—Liberality is often only a form of timidity in the rich.
200.
_Laughing._—To laugh means to love mischief, but with a good conscience.
201.
_In Applause._—In applause there is always some kind of noise: even in
self-applause.
202.
_A Spendthrift._—He has not yet the poverty of the rich man who has
counted all his treasure,—he squanders his spirit with the
irrationalness of the spendthrift Nature.
203.
_Hic niger est._—Usually he has no thoughts,—but in exceptional cases
bad thoughts come to him.
204.
_Beggars and Courtesy._—"One is not discourteous when one knocks at a
door with a stone when the bell-pull is awanting"—so think all beggars
and necessitous persons, but no one thinks they are in the right.
205.
_Need._—Need is supposed to be the cause of things; but in truth it is
often only the effect of the things themselves.
206.
_During the Rain._—It rains, and I think of the poor people who now
crowd together with their many cares, which they are unaccustomed to
conceal; all of them, therefore, ready and anxious to give pain to one
another, and thus provide themselves with a pitiable kind of comfort,
even in bad weather. This, this only, is the poverty of the poor!
207.
_The Envious Man._—That is an envious man—it is not desirable that he
should have children; he would be envious of them, because he can no
longer be a child.
208.
_A Great Man!_—Because a person is "a great man," we are not authorised
to infer that he is a man. Perhaps he is only a boy, or a chameleon of
all ages, or a bewitched girl.
209.
_A Mode of Asking for Reasons._—There is a mode of asking for our
reasons which not only makes us forget our best reasons, but also
arouses in us a spite and repugnance against reason generally:—a very
stupefying mode of questioning, and properly an artifice of tyrannical
men!
210.
_Moderation in Diligence._—One must not be anxious to surpass the
diligence of one's father—that would make one ill.
211.
_Secret Enemies._—To be able to keep a secret enemy—that is a luxury
which the morality even of the highest-minded persons can rarely afford.
212.
_Not Letting oneself be Deluded._—His spirit has bad manners, it is
hasty and always stutters with impatience; so that one would hardly
suspect the deep breathing and the large chest of the soul in which it
resides.
213.
_The Way to Happiness._—A sage asked of a fool the way to happiness. The
fool answered without delay, like one who had been asked the way to the
next town: "Admire yourself, and live on the street!" "Hold," cried the
sage, "you require too much; it suffices to admire oneself!" The fool
replied: "But how can one constantly admire without constantly
despising?"
214.
_Faith Saves._—Virtue gives happiness and a state of blessedness only to
those who have a strong faith in their virtue:—not, however, to the more
refined souls whose virtue consists of a profound distrust of themselves
and of all virtue. After all, therefore, it is "faith that saves" here
also!—and be it well observed, _not_ virtue!
215.
_The Ideal and the Material._—You have a noble ideal before your eyes:
but are you also such a noble stone that such a divine image could be
formed out of you? And without that—is not all your labour barbaric
sculpturing? A blasphemy of your ideal!
216.
_Danger in the Voice._—With a very loud voice a person is almost
incapable of reflecting on subtle matters.
217.
_Cause and Effect._—Before the effect one believes in other causes than
after the effect.
218.