itself all the positive forces to which we owe modern culture. Such
were the liberation of thought, the disregard of authorities, the
triumph of education over the darkness of tradition, enthusiasm for
science and the scientific past of mankind, the unfettering of the
Individual, an ardour for truthfulness and a dislike of delusion
and mere effect (which ardour blazed forth in an entire company of
artistic characters, who with the greatest moral purity required from
themselves perfection in their works, and nothing but perfection);
yes, the Renaissance had positive forces, which have, _as yet,_ never
become so mighty again in our modern culture. It was the Golden Age
of the last thousand years, in spite of all its blemishes and vices.
On the other hand, the German Reformation stands out as an energetic
protest of antiquated spirits, who were by no means tired of mediæval
views of life, and who received the signs of its dissolution, the
extraordinary flatness and alienation of the religious life, with
deep dejection instead of with the rejoicing that would have been
seemly. With their northern strength and stiff-neckedness they threw
mankind back again, brought about the counter-reformation, that is,
a Catholic Christianity of self-defence, with all the violences of a
state of siege, and delayed for two or three centuries the complete
awakening and mastery of the sciences; just as they probably made for
ever impossible the complete inter-growth of the antique and the modern
spirit. The great task of the Renaissance could not be brought to a
termination, this was prevented by the protest of the contemporary
backward German spirit (which, for its salvation, had had sufficient
sense in the Middle Ages to cross the Alps again and again). It was
the chance of an extraordinary constellation of politics that Luther
was preserved, and that his protest; gained strength, for the Emperor
protected him in order to employ him as a weapon against the Pope, and
in the same way he was secretly favoured by the Pope in order to use
the Protestant princes as a counter-weight against the Emperor. Without
this curious counter-play of intentions, Luther would have been burnt
like Huss,--and the morning sun of enlightenment would probably have
risen somewhat earlier, and with a splendour more beauteous than we can
now imagine.
238.
JUSTICE AGAINST THE BECOMING GOD.-- When the entire history of culture
unfolds itself to our gaze, as a confusion of evil and noble, of true
and false ideas, and we feel almost seasick at the sight of these
tumultuous waves, we then under stand what comfort resides in the
conception of a _becoming God._ This Deity is unveiled ever more and
more throughout the changes and fortunes of mankind; it is not all
blind mechanism, a senseless and aimless confusion of forces. The
deification of the process of being is a metaphysical outlook, seen as
from a lighthouse overlooking the sea of history, in which a far-too
historical generation of scholars found their comfort. This must not
arouse anger, however erroneous the view may be. Only those who, like
Schopenhauer, deny development also feel none of the misery of this
historical wave, and therefore, because they know nothing of that
becoming God and the need of His supposition, they should in justice
withhold their scorn.
239.
THE FRUITS ACCORDING TO THEIR SEASONS.--Every better future that
is desired for mankind is necessarily in many respects also a worse
future, for it is foolishness to suppose that a new, higher grade of
humanity will combine in itself all the good points of former grades,
and must produce, for instance, the highest form of art. Rather has
every season its own advantages and charms, which exclude those of
the other seasons. That which has grown out of religion and in its
neighbourhood cannot grow again if this has been destroyed; at the
most, straggling and belated off-shoots may lead to deception on that
point, like the occasional outbreaks of remembrance of the old art, a
condition that probably betrays the feeling of loss and deprivation,
but which is no proof of the power from which a new art might be born.
240.
THE INCREASING SEVERITY OF THE WORLD.--The higher culture an
individual attains, the less field there is left for mockery and scorn.
Voltaire thanked Heaven from his heart for the invention of marriage
and the Church, by which it had so well provided for our cheer. But he
and his time, and before him the sixteenth century, had exhausted their
ridicule on this theme; everything that is now made fun of on this
theme is out of date, and above all too cheap to tempt a purchaser.
Causes are now inquired after; ours is an age of seriousness. Who
cares now to discern, laughingly, the difference between reality and
pretentious sham, between that which man _is_ and that which he wishes
to represent; the feeling of this contrast has quite a different effect
if we seek reasons. The more thoroughly any one understands life,
the less he will mock, though finally, perhaps, he will mock at the
"thoroughness of his understanding."
241.
THE GENIUS OF CULTURE.--If any one wished to imagine a genius of
culture, what would it be like? It handles as its tools falsehood,
force, and thoughtless selfishness so surely that I could only be
called an evil, demoniacal being but its aims, which are occasionally
transparent, are great and good. It is a centaur, half-beast, half-man,
and, in addition, has angel's wings upon its head.
242.
THE MIRACLE-EDUCATION.--Interest in Education will acquire great
strength only from the moment when belief in a God and His care is
renounced, just as the art of healing you only flourish when the
belief in miracle-cures ceased. So far, however, there is universal
belief in the miracle-education; out of the greatest disorder and
confusion of aims and unfavourableness of conditions, the most
fertile and mighty men have been seen to grow; could this happen
naturally? Soon these cases will be more closely looked into, more
carefully examined; but miracles will never be discovered. In similar
circumstances countless persons perish constantly; the few saved have,
therefore, usually grown stronger, because they endured these bad
conditions by virtue of an inexhaustible inborn strength, and this
strength they had also exercised and increased by fighting against
these circumstances; thus the miracle is explained. An education that
no longer believes in miracles must pay attention to three things:
first, how much energy is inherited? secondly, by what means can
new energy be aroused? thirdly, how can the individual be adapted
to so many and manifold claims of culture without being disquieted
and destroying his personality,--in short, how can the individual be
initiated into the counterpoint of private and public culture, how can
he lead the melody and at the same time Accompany it?
243.
THE FUTURE OF THE PHYSICIAN.--There is now no profession which would
admit of such an enhancement as that of the physician; that is, after
the spiritual physicians the so-called pastors, are no longer allowed
to practise their conjuring tricks to public applause, and a cultured
person gets out of their way. The highest mental development of a
physician has not yet been reached, even if he understands the best
and newest methods, is practised in them, and knows how to draw those
rapid conclusions from effects to causes for which the diagnostics are
celebrated; besides this, he must possess a gift of eloquence that
adapts itself to every individual and draws his heart out of his body;
a manliness, the sight of which alone drives away all despondency (the
canker of all sick people), the tact and suppleness of a diplomatist
in negotiations between such as have need of joy for their recovery
and such as, for reasons of health, must (and can) give joy; the
acuteness of a detective and an attorney to divine the secrets of
a soul without betraying them,--in short, a good physician now has
need of all the artifices and artistic privileges of every other
professional class. Thus equipped, he is then ready to be a benefactor
to the whole of society, by increasing good works, mental joys and
fertility, by preventing evil thoughts, projects and villainies (the
evil source of which is so often the belly), by the restoration of a
mental and physical aristocracy (as a maker and hinderer of marriages),
by judiciously checking all so-called soul-torments and pricks of
conscience. Thus from a "medicine man" he becomes a saviour, and
yet need work no miracle, neither is he obliged to let himself be
crucified.
244.
IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF INSANITY.--The sum of sensations, knowledge
and experiences, the whole burden of culture, therefore, has become
so great that an overstraining of nerves and powers of thought is a
common danger, indeed the cultivated classes of European countries
are throughout neurotic, and almost every one of their great families
is on the verge of insanity in one of their branches. True, health
is now sought in every possible way; but in the main a diminution of
that tension of feeling, of that oppressive burden of culture, is
needful, which, even though it might be bought at a heavy sacrifice,
would at least give us room for the great hope of a _new Renaissance._
To Christianity, to the philosophers, poets, and musicians we owe an
abundance of deeply emotional sensations; in order that these may not
get beyond our control we must invoke the spirit of science, which
on the whole makes us somewhat colder and more sceptical, and in
particular cools the faith in final and absolute truths; it is chiefly
through Christianity that it has grown so wild.
245.
THE BELL-FOUNDING OF CULTURE.--Culture has been made like a bell,
within a covering of coarser, commoner material, falsehood, violence,
the boundless extension of every individual "I," of every separate
people--this was the covering. Is it time to take it off? Has the
liquid set, have the good and useful impulses, the habits of the nobler
nature become so certain and so general that they no longer require to
lean on metaphysics and the errors of religion, no longer have need of
hardnesses and violence as powerful bonds between man and man, people
and people? No sign from any God can any longer help us to answer this
question; our own insight must decide. The earthly rule of man must be
taken in hand by man himself, his "omniscience" must watch over the
further fate of culture with a sharp eye.
246.
THE CYCLOPES OF CULTURE.--Whoever has seen those furrowed basins which
once contained glaciers, will hardly deem it possible that a time
will come when the same spot will be a valley of woods and meadows
and streams. It is the same in the history of mankind; the wildest
forces break the way, destructively at first, but their activity was
nevertheless necessary in order that later on a milder civilisation
might build up its house These terrible energies--that which is called
Evil--are the cyclopic architects and road-makers of humanity.
247.
THE CIRCULATION OF HUMANITY.--It is possible that all humanity is only
a phase of development of a certain species of animal of limited
duration. Man may have grown out of the ape and will return to the
ape again,[1] without anybody taking an interest in the ending of
this curious comedy. Just as with the decline of Roman civilisation
and its most important cause, the spread of Christianity, there was a
general uglification of man within the Roman Empire, so, through the
eventual decline of general culture, there might result a far greater
uglification and finally an animalising of man till he reached the ape.
But just because we are able to face this prospect, we shall perhaps be
able to avert such an end.
248.
THE CONSOLING SPEECH OF A DESPERATE ADVANCE.--Our age gives the
impression of an intermediate condition; the old ways of regarding the
world, the old cultures still partially exist, the new are not yet
sure and customary and hence are without decision and consistency. It
appears as if everything would become chaotic, as if the old were being
lost, the new worthless and ever becoming weaker. But this is what the
soldier feels who is learning to march; for a time he is more uncertain
and awkward, because his muscles are moved sometimes according to the
old system and sometimes according to the new, and neither gains a'
decisive victory. We waver, but it is necessary not to lose courage
and give up what we have newly gained. Moreover, we _cannot_ go back
to the old, we _have_ burnt our boats; there remains nothing but to
be brave whatever happen.--_March ahead,_ only get forward! Perhaps
our behaviour looks like _progress_; but if not, then the words
of Frederick the Great may also be applied to us, and indeed as a
consolation: "_Ah, mon cher Sulzer, vous ne connaissez pas assez cette
race maudite, à laquelle nous appartenons._"
249.
SUFFERING FROM PAST CULTURE.--Whoever has solved the problem of culture
suffers from a feeling similar to that of one who has inherited
unjustly-gotten riches, or of a prince who reigns thanks to the
violence of his ancestors. He thinks of their origin with grief and is
often ashamed, often irritable. The whole sum of strength, joy, vigour,
which he devotes to his possessions, is often balanced by a deep
weariness, he cannot forget their origin. He looks despondingly at the
future; he knows well that his successors will suffer from the past as
he does.
250.
MANNERS.--Good manners disappear in proportion as the influence of
a Court and an exclusive aristocracy lessens; this decrease can be
plainly observed from decade to decade by those who have an eye
for public behaviour, which grows visibly more vulgar. No one any
longer knows how to court and flatter intelligently; hence arises the
ludicrous fact that in cases where we _must_ render actual homage
(to a great statesman or artist, for instance), the words of deepest
feeling, of simple, peasant-like honesty, have to be borrowed, owing to
the embarrassment resulting from the lack of grace and wit. Thus the
public ceremonious meeting of men appears ever more clumsy, but more
full of feeling and honesty without really being so. But must there
always be a decline in manners? It appears to me, rather, that manners
take a deep curve and that we are approaching their lowest point. When
society has become sure of its intentions and principles, so that they
have a moulding effect (the manners we have learnt from former moulding
conditions are now inherited and always more weakly learnt), there will
then be company manners, gestures and social expressions, which must
appear as necessary and simply natural because they are intentions
and principles. The better division of time and work, the gymnastic
exercise transformed into the accompaniment of all beautiful leisure,
increased and severer meditation, which brings wisdom and suppleness
even to the body, will bring all this in its train. Here, indeed, we
might think with a smile of our scholars, and consider whether, as a
matter of fact, they who wish to be regarded as the forerunners of that
new culture are distinguished by their better manners? This is hardly
the case; although their spirit may be willing enough their flesh is
weak. The past of culture is still too powerful in their muscles, they
still stand in a fettered position, and are half worldly priests and
half dependent educators of the upper classes, and besides this they
have been rendered crippled and lifeless by the pedantry of science and
by antiquated, spiritless methods. In any case, therefore, they are
physically, and often three-fourths mentally, still the courtiers of an
old, even antiquated culture, and as such are themselves antiquated;
the new spirit that occasionally inhabits these old dwellings often
serves only to make them more uncertain and frightened. In them there
dwell the ghosts of the past as well as the ghosts of the future;
what wonder if they do not wear the best expression or show the most
pleasing behaviour?
251.
THE FUTURE OF SCIENCE.--To him who works and seeks in her, Science
gives much pleasure,--to him who _learns_ her facts, very little. But
as all important truths of science must gradually become commonplace
and everyday matters, even this small amount of pleasure ceases, just
as we have long ceased to take pleasure in learning the admirable
multiplication table. Now if Science goes on giving less pleasure in
herself, and always takes more pleasure in throwing suspicion on the
consolations of metaphysics, religion and art, that greatest of all
sources of pleasure, to which mankind owes almost its whole humanity,
becomes impoverished. Therefore a higher culture must give man a
double brain, two brain-chambers, so to speak, one to feel science
and the other to feel non-science, which can lie side by side, without
confusion, divisible, exclusive; this is a necessity of health. In one
part lies the source of strength, in the other lies the regulator;
it must be heated with illusions, onesidednesses, passions; and the
malicious and dangerous consequences of over-heating must be averted
by the help of conscious Science. If this necessity of the higher
culture is not satisfied, the further course of human development can
almost certainly be foretold: the interest in what is true ceases as it
guarantees less pleasure; illusion, error, and imagination reconquer
step by step the ancient territory, because they are united to
pleasure; the ruin of science: the relapse into barbarism is the next
result; mankind must begin to weave its web afresh after having, like
Penelope, destroyed it during the night. But who will assure us that it
will always find the necessary strength for this?
252.
THE PLEASURE IN DISCERNMENT.--Why is discernment, that essence of the
searcher and the philosopher, connected with pleasure? Firstly, and
above all, because thereby we become conscious of our strength, for
the same reason that gymnastic exercises, even without spectators, are
enjoyable. Secondly, because in the course of knowledge we surpass
older ideas and their representatives, and become, or believe ourselves
to be, conquerors. Thirdly, because even a very little new knowledge
exalts us above _every one,_ and makes us feel we are the only ones
who know the subject aright. These are the three most important
reasons of the pleasure, but there are many others, according to the
nature of the discerner. A not inconsiderable index of such is given,
where no one would look for it, in a passage of my parenetic work
on Schopenhauer,[2] with the arrangement of which every experienced
servant of knowledge may be satisfied, even though he might wish to
dispense with the ironical touch that seems to pervade those pages.
For if it be true that for the making of a scholar "a number of very
human impulses and desires must be thrown together," that the scholar
is indeed a very noble but not a pure metal, and "consists of a
confused blending of very different impulses and attractions," the
same thing may be said equally of the making and nature of the artist,
the philosopher and the moral genius--and whatever glorified great
names there may be in that list. _Everything_ human deserves ironical
consideration with respect to its _origin,_--therefore irony is so
_superfluous_ in the world.
253.
FIDELITY AS A PROOF OF VALIDITY.--It is a perfect sign of a sound
theory if during _forty years_ its originator does not mistrust it; but
I maintain that there has never yet been a philosopher who has not
eventually deprecated the philosophy of his youth. Perhaps, however,
he has not spoken publicly of this change of opinion, for reasons of
ambition, or, what is more probable in noble natures, out of delicate
consideration for his adherents.
254.
THE INCREASE OF WHAT IS INTERESTING.--In the course of higher education
everything becomes interesting to man, he knows how to find the
instructive side of a thing quickly and to put his finger on the place
where it can fill up a gap in his ideas, or where it may verify a
thought. Through this boredom disappears more and more, and so does
excessive excitability of temperament. Finally he moves among men like
a botanist among plants, and looks upon himself as a phenomenon, which
only greatly excites his discerning instinct.
255.
THE SUPERSTITION OF THE SIMULTANEOUS.--Simultaneous things hold
together, it is said. A relative dies far away, and at the same time
we dream about him,--Consequently! But countless relatives die and we
do not dream about them. It is like shipwrecked people who make vows;
afterwards, in the temples, we do not see the votive tablets of those
who perished. A man dies, an owl hoots, a clock stops, all at one hour
of the night,--must there not be some connection? Such an intimacy
with nature as this supposition implies is flattering to mankind. This
species of superstition is found again in a refined form in historians
and delineators of culture, who usually have a kind of hydrophobic
horror of all that senseless mixture, in which individual and national
life is so rich.
256.
ACTION AND NOT KNOWLEDGE EXERCISED BY SCIENCE.--The value of strictly
pursuing science for a time does not lie precisely in its results,
for these, in proportion to the ocean of what is worth knowing, are
but an infinitesimally small drop. But it gives an additional energy,
decisiveness, and toughness of endurance; it teaches how to attain an
_aim suitably._ In so far it is very valuable, with a view to all that
is done later on, to have once been a scientific man.
257.
THE YOUTHFUL CHARM OF SCIENCE.--The search for truth still retains
the charm of being in strong contrast to gray and now tiresome error;
but this charm is gradually disappearing. It is true we still live in
the youthful age of science and are accustomed to follow truth as a
lovely girl; but how will it be when one day she becomes an elderly,
ill-tempered looking woman? In almost all sciences the fundamental
knowledge is either found in earliest times or is still being sought;
what a different attraction this exerts compared to that time when
everything essential has been found and there only remains for the
seeker a scanty gleaning (which sensation may be learnt in several
historical disciplines).
258.
THE STATUE OF HUMANITY.--The genius of culture fares as did Cellini
when his statue of Perseus was being cast; the molten mass threatened
to run short, but it _had_ to suffice, so he flung in his plates and
dishes, and whatever else his hands fell upon. In the same way genius
flings in errors, vices, hopes, ravings, and other things of baser as
well as of nobler metal, for the statue of humanity must emerge and be
finished; what does it matter if commoner material is used here and
there?
259.