What Nietzsche Taught

By

Willard Huntington Wright

I am writing for a race of men which
does not yet exist: for "the lords
of the earth."
The Will to Power

New York

B. W. Huebsch

1915

TO
H. L. MENCKEN
the critic who has given the greatest impetus
to the study of Nietzsche in America

Portrait Bust of Nietzsche by
Professor Karl Donndorf, Stuttgart

CONTENTS

[INTRODUCTION]

It is no longer possible to ignore the teachings of Friedrich Nietzsche, or to consider the trend of modern thought without giving the philosopher of the superman a prominent place in the list of thinkers who contributed to the store of present-day knowledge. His powerful and ruthless mind has had an influence on contemporary thought which even now, in the face of all the scholarly books of appreciation he has called forth, one is inclined to underestimate. No philosopher since Kant has left so undeniable an imprint on modern thought. Even Schopenhauer, whose influence coloured the greater part of Europe, made no such widespread impression. Nietzsche has penetrated into both England and America, two countries strangely impervious to rigorous philosophic ideals. Not only in ethics and literature do we find the moulding hand of Nietzsche at work, invigorating and solidifying; but in pedagogics and in art, in politics and religion, the influence of his doctrines is to be encountered. The books and essays in German elucidating his philosophy constitute a miniature library. Nearly as many books and articles have appeared in France, and the list of authors of these appreciations include many of the most noted modern scholars. Spain and Italy, likewise, have contributed works to an inquiry into his teachings; and in England and America numerous volumes dealing with the philosophy of the superman have appeared in recent years. In M. A. Mügge's excellent biography, "Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work," there is appended a bibliography containing 850 titles, and this list by no means includes all the books and articles devoted to a consideration of this philosopher's doctrines.

In this regard one should note that this interest is not the result of a temporary popularity, such as that which has met the philosophical pieties of Henri Bergson. To the contrary, Nietzsche's renown is gaining ground daily among serious-minded scholars, and his adherents have already reached the dimensions of a small army. But despite this appreciation there is still current an enormous amount of ignorance concerning his teachings. The very manner in which he wrote tended to bring about misunderstandings. Viewed casually and without studious consideration, his books offer many apparent contradictions. His style, always elliptic and aphoristic, lends itself easily to quotation, and because of the startling and revolutionary nature of his utterances, many excerpts from his earlier works were widely circulated through the mediums of magazines and newspapers. These quotations, robbed of their context, very often gave rise to immature and erroneous judgments, with the result that the true meaning of his philosophy was often turned into false channels. Many of his best-known aphorisms have taken on strange and unearthly meanings, and often the reverse of his gospel has gained currency and masqueraded as the original canon.

To a great extent this misunderstanding has been unavoidable. Systematisers, ever eager to bend a philosopher's statements to their own ends, have found in Nietzsche's writings much material which, when carefully isolated, substantiated their own conclusions. On the other hand, the Christian moralists, sensing in Nietzsche a powerful and effective opponent, have attempted to disqualify his ethical system by presenting garbled portions of his attacks on Christianity, omitting all the qualifying passages. It is impossible, however, to understand any of Nietzsche's doctrines unless we consider them in their relation to the whole of his teachings.

Contrary to the general belief, Nietzsche was not simply a destructive critic and a formulator of impossible and romantic concepts. His doctrine of the superman, which seems to be the principal stumbling block in the way of a rationalistic interpretation of his philosophy, is no vague dream unrelated to present humanity. Nor was his chief concern with future generations. Nietzsche devoted his research to immediate conditions and to the origin of those conditions. And—what is of greater importance—he left behind him a very positive and consistent system of ethics—a workable and entirely comprehensible code of conduct to meet present-day needs. This system was not formulated with the precision which no doubt would have attached to it in its final form had he been able to complete the plans he had outlined. Yet there are few points in his code of ethics—and they are of minor importance—which cannot be found, clearly conceived and concisely stated, in the main body of his works. This system of conduct embraces every stage of society; and for the rulers to-day—the people for whom Nietzsche directly voiced his teachings—he outlines a method of outer conduct and a set of inner ideals which meet with every modern condition. His proposed ethical routine is not based on abstract reasoning and speculative conclusions. It is a practical code which has its foundation implanted in the dominating instincts of the organic and inorganic world. It is directly opposed to the prevailing code, and has for its ideal the fulness of life itself—life intensified to the highest degree, life charged with a maximum of beauty, power, enthusiasm, virility, wealth and intoxication. It is the code of strength and courage. Its goal is a race which will possess the hardier virtues of strength, confidence, exuberance and affirmation.

This ideal has been the source of many misunderstandings, and it is the errors which have arisen from the vicious and inept dissemination of his teachings, that I have striven to rectify in the present book. I have hoped to accomplish this by presenting the whole of Nietzsche's philosophy, as far as possible, in his own words. This has not been so difficult a matter. His writings, more than those of any other modern philosopher, offer opportunities for such treatment. There is no point in his entire system not susceptible to brief and clear quotation. Furthermore, his thought developed consistently and logically in straight-away, chronological order, so that at the conclusion of each book we find ourselves just so much further along the route of his thinking. Beginning with "Human, All-Too-Human," his first destructive volume, we can trace the gradual and concise pyramiding of his teachings, down to the last statement of his cardinal doctrine of will as set forth in the notes which comprise the second volume of "The Will to Power." Each one of the intervening books embodies new material: it is a distinct, yet co-ordinated, division in the great structure of his life's work. These books overlap one another in many instances, and develop points raised speculatively in former books, but they organise each other and lead one surely, if at times circuitously, to the crowning doctrines of his thought.

The majority of critics have chosen to systematise Nietzsche's teachings by separating the ideas in his different books, and by drawing together under specific captions (such as "religion," "the state," "education," etc.,) all the scattered material which relates to these different subjects. In many cases they have succeeded in offering a very coherent and consistent résumé of his thought. But Nietzsche's doctrines were inherently opposed to such arbitrary dividing and arranging, because beneath the various sociological points which fell under his consideration, were two or three general motivating principles which unified the whole of his thought. He did not work from modern institutions back to his doctrines; but, by analysing the conditions out of which these institutions grew, he arrived at the conclusions which he afterward used in formulating new methods of operation. It was the change in conditions and needs between ancient and modern times that made him voice the necessity of change between ancient and modern institutions. In other words, his advocacy of new methods for dealing with modern affairs was evolved from his researches into the origin and history of current methods. For instance, his remarks on religion, society, the state, the individual, etc., were the outcome of fundamental postulates which he described and elucidated in terms of human institutions. Therefore an attempt to reach an explanation of the basic doctrines of his philosophy through his applied teachings unconsciously gives rise to the very errors which the serious critics have sought to overcome: this method focuses attention on the application of his doctrines rather than on the doctrines themselves.

Therefore I have taken his writings chronologically, beginning with his first purely philosophical work—"Human, All-Too-Human"—and have set down, in his own words, every important conclusion throughout his entire works. In this way one may follow Nietzsche throughout every step in the development of his teachings—not only in his abstract theories but also in his application of them. There is not a single important point in the entire sweep of his thought not contained in these pages. Naturally I have been unable to give any of the arguments which led to these conclusions. The quotations are in every instance no longer than has been necessary to make clear the idea: for the processes of thought by which these conclusions were reached the reader must go direct to the books from which the excerpts are made. Also I have omitted Nietzsche's brilliant analogies and such desultory critical judgments, literary and artistic, as have no direct bearing on his philosophy; and have contented myself with setting down only those bare, unelaborated utterances which embody the positive points in his thought. By thus letting Nietzsche himself state his doctrines I have attempted to make it impossible for anybody who goes carefully through these pages to misunderstand those points which now seem clouded in error.

In order to facilitate further the research of the student and to make clear certain of the more obscure selections, I have preceded each chapter with a short account of the book and its contents. In these brief essays, I have reviewed the entire contents of each book, set down the circumstances under which it was written, and attempted to weigh its individual importance in relation to the others. Furthermore, I have attempted to state briefly certain of the doctrines which did not permit of entirely self-explanatory quotation. And where Nietzsche indulged in research, such as in tracing the origin of certain motives, or in explaining the steps which led to the acceptance of certain doctrines, I have included in these essays an abridged exposition of his theories. In short, I have embodied in each chapter such critical material as I thought would assist the reader to a clear understanding of each book's contents and relative significance.

This book is frankly for the beginner—for the student who desires a survey of Nietzsche's philosophy before entering upon a closer and more careful study of it. In this respect it is meant also as a guide; and I have given the exact location of every quotation so that the reader may refer at once to the main body of Nietzsche's works and ascertain the premises and syllogisms which underlie the quoted conclusion.

In the opening biographical sketch I have refrained from going into Nietzsche's personality and character, adhering throughout to the external facts of his life. His personality will be found in the racy, vigorous and stimulating utterances I have chosen for quotation, and no comments of mine could add colour to the impression thus received. It is difficult to divorce Nietzsche from his work: the man and his teachings are inseparable. His style, as well as his philosophy, is a direct outgrowth of his personality. This is why his gospel is so personal and intimate a one, and so closely bound up in the instincts of humanity. There are several good biographies of Nietzsche in existence, and a brief account of the best ones in English will be found in the bibliography at the end of this volume.

It must not be thought that this book is intended as a final, or even complete, commentary on Nietzsche's doctrines. It was written and compiled for the purpose of supplying an introductory study, and, with that end in view, I have refrained from all technical or purely philosophical nomenclature. The object throughout has been to stimulate the reader to further study, and if this book does not send the reader sooner or later to the original volumes from which these quotations have been made, I shall feel that I have failed somewhat in my enterprise.

The volumes of Nietzsche's philosophy from which the quotations in this book are taken, comprise the first complete and authorised edition of the works of Nietzsche in English. To the courageous energy of Dr. Oscar Levy do we owe the fact that Nietzsche's entire writings are now obtainable in English. The translations of these books have, in every instance, been made by competent scholars, and each volume is introduced by an illuminating preface. As this edition now stands, it is the most complete and voluminous translation of any foreign philosopher in the English language. The edition is in eighteen volumes, and is published in England by T. N. Foulis, and in America by the Macmillan Company. The volumes and their contents are given below.

I. "The Birth of Tragedy," translated by William A. Haussmann, B.A., Ph.D., with a biographical introduction by the author's sister; a portrait of Nietzsche, and a facsimile of his manuscript.

II. "Early Greek Philosophy and Other Essays," translated by Maximilian A. Mügge, Ph.D. Contents: "The Greek State," "The Greek Woman," "On Music and Words," "Homer's Contest," "The Relation of Schopenhauer's Philosophy to a German Culture," "Philosophy During the Tragic Age of the Greeks" and "On Truth and Falsity in Their Ultramoral Sense."

III. "The Future of Our Educational Institutions," translated by J. M. Kennedy. Besides the titular essay, this volume contains "Homer and Classical Philology."

IV. "Thoughts Out of Season," Vol. I., translated by Anthony M. Ludovici. Contents: "David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer" and "Richard Wagner in Bayreuth."

V. "Thoughts Out of Season," Vol. II., translated with introduction by Adrian Collins, M.A. Contents: "The Use and Abuse of History" and "Schopenhauer as Educator."

VI. "Human, All-Too-Human," Vol. I., translated by Helen Zimmern, with introduction by J. M. Kennedy.

VII. "Human, All-Too-Human," Vol. IL, translated, with introduction, by Paul V. Cohn, B.A.

VIII. "The Case of Wagner," translated by Anthony M. Ludovici and J. M. Kennedy, with introductions by the translators. Contents: "The Case of Wagner," "Nietzche contra Wagner," "Selected Aphorisms" and "We Philologists."

IX. "The Dawn of Day," translated, with introduction, by J. M. Kennedy.

X. "The Joyful Wisdom," translated, with introduction, by Thomas Common. The poetry which appears in the appendix under the caption of "Songs of Prince Free-As-A-Bird," is translated by Paul V. Cohn and Maude D. Petre.

XI. "Thus Spake Zarathustra," revised introduction by Thomas Common, with introduction by Mrs. Förster-Nietzsche, and commentary by A. M. Ludovici.

XII. "Beyond Good and Evil," translated by Helen Zimmern, with introduction by Thomas Common.

XIII. "The Genealogy of Morals," translated by Horace B. Samuel, M.A., with introductory note. "People and Countries," an added section to this book, is translated by J. M. Kennedy with an editor's note by Dr. Oscar Levy.

XIV. "The Will to Power," Vol. I., translated, with an introduction, by A. M. Ludovici.

XV. "The Will to Power," Vol. IL, translated, with an introduction, by A. M. Ludovici.

XVI. "The Twilight of the Idols," translated, with an introduction, by A. M. Ludovici. Contents: "The Twilight of the Idols," "The Antichrist," "Eternal Recurrence," and "Explanatory Notes to 'Thus Spake Zarathustra.'"

XVII. "Ecce Homo," translated by A. M. Ludovici. Various poetry and epigrams translated by Paul V. Cohn, Herman Scheffauer, Francis Bickley and Dr. G. T. Wrench. In addition this volume contains the music of Nietzsche's "Hymn to Life"—words by Lou Salomé—with an introduction by A. M. Ludovici.

XVIII. "Index to Complete Works," compiled by Robert Guppy, with vocabulary of foreign quotations occurring in the works of Nietzsche translated by Paul V. Cohn, B.A., and an introductory essay, "The Nietzsche Movement in England (A Retrospect—A Confession—A Prospect)," by Dr. Oscar Levy.

There are in the present volume no quotations from Nietzsche's "Ecce Homo" or from the pamphlets dealing with Wagner. The former work is an autobiography which, while it throws light on both Nietzsche's character and his work, is nevertheless outside his purely philosophical writings. And the Wagner documents, though interesting, have little to do with the Nietzschean doctrines, except as showing perhaps the result of their application. I have therefore left them intact for the student who wishes to go more deeply into the philosopher's character than I have here attempted.

W. H. W.

WHAT NIETZSCHE TAUGHT

I

Biographical Sketch

Nietzsche liked to believe that he was of Polish descent. He had a greater admiration for the Poles than for the Germans, and went so far as to instigate an investigation by which he hoped to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not only Polish but was descended from the Polish nobility. His efforts, his sister tells us, were not entirely successful, although some evidence was turned up which pointed to the truth of this theory. Several of the dates in the report, however, did not accurately tally, and since many of Nietzsche's papers containing the results of his genealogical research were lost in Turin after his breakdown, the hypothesis of his Polish descent consequently remains somewhat mythical. Nietzsche's theory was that his great-great-grandfather was a nobleman named Nicki who fled from Poland during the religious wars, as a fugitive under sentence of death, and took with him a young son who afterward changed his name to Nietzsche. There is a romance in this belief which appealed strongly to the philosopher. He saw a genuine grandeur in the fact that his ancestor had become a fugitive for his religious and political opinions. This belief in time became a conviction with him, and in the later years of his life we find him definitely asserting the truth of this family tradition.

The matter, however, one way or the other, is of little consequence, for Nietzsche's mind embodied universal traits: it was uncommonly free from distinctly national characteristics. All the important facts of his life and of his immediate ancestry are known to us. He was born at Röcken, a little village in the Prussian province of Saxony, on October 15, 1844. The day was the anniversary of the birth of Friedrich Wilhelm IV, King of Prussia, and Nietzsche was christened Friedrich Wilhelm in honour of the event. The coincidence was all the more marked by the fact that Nietzsche's father, three years previous, had been tutor to the Altenburg Princesses, in which capacity he had met the sovereign and made so favourable an impression that it was by the royal favour he was living at Röcken. There were two other children in the Nietzsche household—a girl born in 1846, and a son born in 1850. The girl was named Therese Elizabeth Alexandra after the Duke of Altenburg's three daughters who had come under her father's tutorship. Afterward she became the philosopher's closest companion and guardian and his most voluminous biographer. The boy Joseph, named after the Duke of Altenburg himself, did not survive his first year.

The longevity and hardiness which marked the stock of Nietzsche's ancestors does away with the theory, often advanced, that his sickness and final mental breakdown were the outcome of hereditary causes. Out of his eight great-parents only two failed to reach the age of seventy-five, while one reached the age of eighty-six and another did not die until ninety. Both of his grand-fathers attained to the age of seventy, and his maternal grandmother lived until she was past eighty-two. Furthermore, the Nietzsche families for three generations had been very large and in every instance healthy and robust. Nietzsche's grandmother Nietzsche had twelve children, and his grandmother Oehler had eleven children—both families being strong and free from sickness. Nietzsche himself, so his sister tells us in her biography, was strong and healthy from his earliest childhood until maturity. He participated in outdoor sports such as swimming, skating and ball playing, and was characterised by a ruddy complexion which in his school days often called forth remarks concerning his evident splendid health. It seems that only one physical defect marked the whole of his younger life—a myopia inherited from his father. This impediment, though slight at first, became rapidly aggravated by the constant use to which he put his eyes in his sedulous application to study.

Nietzsche, the most terrible and devastating critic of Christianity and its ideals, was the culmination of two long collateral lines of theologians. His grandfather Nietzsche was a man of many scholarly attainments, who, because of his ecclesiastical writings, had received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. His second wife, the mother of Nietzsche's father, came from a whole family of pastors by the name of Krause. Her favourite brother was a preacher in the Cathedral at Naumburg; and of the other two one was a Doctor of Divinity and one a country clergyman. The father of Nietzsche's mother was also a pastor by the name of Oehler, and had a parsonage in Pobles. Likewise Nietzsche's father, Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche, was a pastor in the Lutheran church; but he possessed a greater culture than we are wont to associate with the average country clergyman, and was a man looked up to and revered by all those who knew him. In fact, his appointment to the post at Röcken was an expression of appreciation paid his talents by the Prussian King. He was thirty-one years of age and had been married only a year when his son Friedrich was born. Though in perfect health, he was not destined to live more than five years after this event, for in 1848 he fell down a flight of stone stairs, and died after a year's invalidism, as a result of concussion of the brain.

The event cast a decided influence on the Nietzsche household and altered completely its plans. After lingering eight months at the parsonage, the family left Röcken and moved to Naumburg-on-the-Saale, there establishing a new domicile in the home of the pastor's mother. The household was composed of the two children, Friedrich and Elizabeth, their mother, then only twenty-four, their grandmother Nietzsche, and two maiden sisters of the dead father. This establishment was run on strict and puritanical lines. All the women were of strong theological inclinations. One of the maiden aunts, Rosalie, devoted herself to Christian benevolent institutions. The other aunt, Augusta, was not unlike the paternal grandmother—pious and God-fearing and constantly busied with her duties to others. The widowed mother carried on the Christian tradition of the family, and never forgot that she was once the wife of a Lutheran pastor. Daily prayers and Biblical readings were fixed practices. The young Friedrich was the pet of the household, and there were secret hopes held by all that he would grow up in the footsteps of his father and become an honoured and respected light in the church. To the realisation of this hope, all the efforts and influences of the four women were given. Such was the atmosphere in which the early youth of the author of "The Antichrist" was nurtured.

Soon after the family's arrival at Naumburg, Friedrich, then only six years old, was sent to a local Municipal Boys' School, in accordance with the educational theories of his grandmother, who believed in gregarious education for the very young. But she had failed to count upon the unusual character of her grandson, and the attempt to educate him at a municipal institution resulted in failure. His upbringing had made him somewhat priggish and hypersensitive. He was ridiculed by the other boys who taunted him with the epithet of "the little minister." He refused to mingle with the riff-raff which composed the larger part of the pupils, and held himself isolated and aloof. Consequently, before the year was up, he was withdrawn from the school and entered in a private educational institution which prepared the younger students for the Cathedral Grammar School. Here he was in more congenial surroundings. He had for schoolmates two youths whose families were friends of the Nietzsche household—young Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug, who later were to influence his youth. Nietzsche remained at this school for three years.

As a boy Nietzsche was always thoughtful and studious. He was a taciturn child and took long walks in the country alone, preferring solitude to companionship. He was sensitive to a marked degree, polite, solicitous of all about him, and inclined to moodiness. As soon as he could write he started a diary in which he included not only the external events of his life but his thoughts and ideas and opinions. The pages of this diary, partially preserved, make unique and interesting reading. At a very early age he began writing poetry. His verses, though conventional in both theme and metre, reflected a knowledge of contemporary prosody unusual in a boy of his years. He had ample opportunity in his home of hearing good music, and he manifested a great love for it in very early youth. He devoted much time to studying the piano, and not infrequently tried his hand at composing. Later in his life we still find him writing music, and also publishing it. In deportment Nietzsche was a model child. He was thoroughly imbued with the religious atmosphere of his surroundings, and was far more pious than the average youth of his own age. For a long while he gave every indication of fulfilling the ecclesiastical hopes which his family harboured for him. Consequently there was no lack of encouragement on the part of his guardians toward his first literary efforts which reflected the piety of his nature.

After a few years in the Naumburg school, where he distinguished himself as a model student and incidentally impressed the visiting inspectors by his quickness and brilliance in answering test questions, Nietzsche took the entrance examinations for the well-known Landes-Schule at Pforta, an institution then noted for its fostering and promotion of scientific studies. The vacancy at Pforta had been offered Nietzsche's mother by the Rector who had heard rumours concerning the intellectual gifts of the young "Fritz." The examinations were passed successfully, and in October, 1858, after a tearful leave-taking, he entered the Lower Fourth Form. Pforta, at that time, was an institution of considerable eminence, with a tradition attaching to it not unlike that of Eton. It was a hot-bed of academic culture, and the professors were among the most learned in the country. The school had been founded as a monastery in the twelfth century by the Cistercian monks. In the sixteenth century it had fallen under the rule of the Duke Moritz of Saxony, who turned it into a secular educational academy, making way for the advance of the newer ideals.

The life at Pforta in Nietzsche's day was strict, and we learn that the young philosopher chafed somewhat under the stringent discipline. But in time he accustomed himself to the regulations, and it was not long before we find him actively and interestedly participating in the school life. However, new ideas were fomenting. If outwardly he acquiesced to the routine, inwardly he was in a state of revolt. He had already begun to indulge in original thinking, and he felt the lack of freedom in communicating his ideas to others. His only confidante during these days was his sister whom he always saw during the holidays and on brief leaves of absence. His spare moments were devoted to music and literature other than that prescribed by the school curriculum. He resented the fact that one had to think of particular themes at specified times, and no doubt caused his good tutor, Professor Buddensieg, much uneasiness, for, to judge from his diary, he did not keep to himself the resentment he felt toward the enforcement of the irksome and repressive calendar of studies.

This resentment doubtlessly had much to do with the inauguration of a society which was called the Germania Club. Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug, Nietzsche's former school companions at Naumburg, were participants in its formation; and on the highest ledge of the watch tower, overlooking the Saale valley, its object was discussed and its inception dedicated and solemnised with a bottle of red wine. This society, while bearing many of the ear-marks of mere youthful enthusiasm, formed an important turning point in Nietzsche's life. It acted, at a psychological moment, as a safety-valve for the heretical ideas and aspirations which, up to that time, he had confided only to his sister and his diary. The purpose of the club can best be stated in Nietzsche's own words: "We resolved to found a kind of small club which would consist of ourselves and a few friends, and the object of which would be to provide us with a stable and binding organisation, directing and adding interest to our creative impulses in art and literature; or to put it more plainly, each of us would be pledged to present an original piece of work to the club once a month, either a poem, a treatise, an architectural design, or a musical composition, upon which each of the others, in a friendly spirit, would have to pass free and unrestricted criticism. We thus hoped by means of mutual correction to be able both to stimulate and to chasten our creative impulses." It was during one of his lectures before this group of youthful individualists that Nietzsche first expressed his true views on Christianity—views, which, could they have been overheard by his devoted family, would have brought sorrow to their pious hearts. The list of Nietzsche's contributions to this synod numbered thirty-four, and included musical compositions, poems, political orations and various literary works.

Nietzsche remained at Pforta until 1864. He had been confirmed at Easter, 1861, and to all outward manifestations retained his religious principles. His final report states that "he showed an active and lively interest in the Christian doctrine." In religion he was given the grade of "excellent." During his later years at Pforta he manifested an interest in the works of Emerson and Shakespeare and especially in the Greek and Latin authors. His dislike for mathematics increased steadily, and his love for Sophocles, Æschylus, Plato and the Greek lyricists "grew by leaps and bounds." His final paper—the departing thesis which was compulsory for all graduating students—was a Latin essay on Theognis of Megara, "De Theognide Megarensi" Between Nietzsche and that ancient aristocrat, with his fine contempt for democracy, there existed many temperamental affinities; and this final essay was no less than a foundation on which the young Dionysian later built his philosophy of aristocracy. On the 7th of September he left Pforta.

After resting at Naumburg until the middle of October, Nietzsche set forth for the University of Bonn. It was here that he came under the guidance of Professor Ritschl, who later was to exert a great influence over him. Friedrich Wilhelm Ritschl was not only the foremost philologist of his time, but a scholar deeply versed in classical literature and rhetoric. It was he who founded the science of historical literary criticism as we know it to-day. When he first met Nietzsche his interest in the young man at once became very great, and the relationship between them rapidly developed into the warmest of friendships. To Ritschl Nietzsche owed many things. It was at the former's house that he became acquainted with many of the leading learned men of the day. And it would be unfair not to credit Ritschl with much of the future philosopher's ardent and lasting interest in ancient cultures.

At Bonn Nietzsche entered the collegiate life with unusual zest. He became a member of the Franconia Student Corps, and participated freely in the drinking bouts which, from what we can learn from his letters home, constituted one of the main duties attached to his membership. But this phase of the student life was foreign to his tastes, and after brief activities in the rôle of "good fellow," he found a more spontaneous recreation in attending concerts and the better class theatres. He privately studied Schumann, and during 1864 and 1865 his life bore a marked musical stamp.

It was during Nietzsche's days at Bonn that a decided change came over his religious views. His critical studies in the literature and culture of the ancients had done much toward weaning him from the formal and almost literal theological beliefs of his family. The first open breach between his newer ideals and the established prejudices of his mother came at Easter-time about midway of his course at Bonn. He was home for the holidays, and when the good people were preparing to attend communion, he suddenly informed them of his decision not to accompany them. Arguments were unavailing. An animated discussion arose in which he firmly defended his attitude; and from that time on there was never a reconciliation between his religious standpoint and the one held by his family. Two learned ecclesiastics were called into consultation, but they were unable to meet the disquieting arguments of the young heretic, and his case was dismissed for the moment on his Aunt Rosalie's theory that even in the lives of the devoutest Christians there often come periods of doubt, and that during such periods it is best to leave the backslider to his own conscience. Nietzsche, however, never again entered the fold.

Curiously enough it was at this same period that came his revulsion toward the dissipations of student life. He went so far as to attempt an imposition of his moral theories on the members of the Franconia, but this attempt at reformation resulted only in his own unpopularity. In his attitude toward duelling—a pastime somewhat over-emphasised at Bonn—Nietzsche was consistent with his other beliefs. The chivalrous side of it appealed to him, although he detested the spirit of it from the standpoint of the student body. However, he took heroic, if unconventional, means to involve himself in a duel lest his position be misconstrued as cowardice. He selected an adversary he thought worthy of him, and pleasantly demanded a combat on the field of honour, ending his request: "Let us waive all the usual preliminaries." The other agreed, and the duel was fought. But the incident merely resulted in emphasising Nietzsche's disgust for student life. Says his sister, "The circumstances which above all aroused my brother's wrath was the detestable 'beer materialism' with which he met on all sides, and owing to these early experiences in Bonn he for ever retained a very deep dislike for smoking, drinking, and the whole of so-called 'beer-conviviality.'" His decision to leave Bonn and enter the University of Leipzig was due to his fondness for Ritschl. In the dispute which arose between the two Professors, Jahn and Ritschl, Nietzsche's friendship for the latter made him a partisan, although he held Jahn in the highest respect; and when Ritschl decided to transfer himself to Leipzig, the young philosopher, along with several of the other students, followed him. This was in the autumn of 1865. Nietzsche reached Leipzig on the 17th of October, and the next day he presented himself to the Academic Board. It was the centennial anniversary of the day when Goethe had entered his name on the register, and the University was celebrating the event. The coincidence delighted Nietzsche greatly, who regarded it as a good omen for his future at the new institution.

It was during his residence at Leipzig that there came into his life two events which were to have a profound and lasting influence on his future. One of these was his acquaintance with Wagner—an acquaintance which several years later developed into the strongest friendship of his life. The other event (in many ways more important than the first) was his discovery of Schopenhauer. This discovery is characteristically described in a letter to his sister: "One day I came across this book at old Rohn's curiosity shop, and taking it up very gingerly I turned over its pages. I know not what demon whispered to me: 'Take this book home with thee.' At all events, contrary to my habit not to be hasty in my purchase of books, I took it home. Once in my room I threw myself into the corner of the sofa with my booty, and began to allow that energetic and gloomy genius to work upon my mind. In this book, in which every line cried out renunciation, denial, and resignation, I saw a mirror in which I espied the whole world, life and my own mind depicted in frightful grandeur. In this volume the full celestial eye of art gazed at me; here I saw illness and recovery, banishment and refuge, heaven and hell. The need of knowing myself, yea, even of gnawing at myself, forcibly seized me." This book went far in arousing the philosophic faculties of the young philologist, and later he wrote many essays, long and short, both in praise and in refutation of the great pessimist. That he should at first have subscribed to all of Schopenhauer's teachings is natural. Nietzsche was vital and susceptible to enthusiasms. It was in accord with his youthful nature, full of courage and strength, that he should have been seduced to pessimism.

At Leipzig Nietzsche accomplished an enormous amount of work: and his nature developed in proportion. The life was freer than it had been at Pforta or at Bonn. Far from being hampered in the voicings of his inner beliefs, he found his environment particularly congenial to self-expression. He made numerous friends, principal among them being Erwin Rohde, who crossed his later life at many points. He showed a great interest in political, as well as in literary and musical, events; and the war between Prussia and Austria fanned his youthful ardour to an almost extravagant degree. Twice he offered himself to the authorities, hoping to be permitted to serve as a soldier, but was rejected both times on account of his shortsightedness. His interest in his studies, however, was in no wise diminished. He read widely in English, French, Greek and Latin, and devoted much scholarly research to Theognis, Diogenes Laertius, and Democritus. His essay on the subject, "De Fontibus Diogenis Laertii" won the first university prize, and was later published, with other of his essays on philology, in the Rheinisches Museum.

At this time the Prussian army found itself in sore need of men, and although Nietzsche had been exempt from military duties and had failed to secure enlistment, he suddenly found himself, in the autumn of 1867, called upon for compulsory training. A new army regulation had just been passed requiring all young men, if otherwise physically sound, to enter military service even though their eyesight was partially impaired. As a consequence Nietzsche had to leave Leipzig and go into training. He made an effort to enlist in a Berlin Guard Regiment, but was finally compelled to join the horse artillery at Naumburg. Although he had previously volunteered for service, he now found that the life of a soldier was far more irksome and far less romantic than he had imagined. He was unhappy and disconsolate, and deplored the slavery attached to the life of a mounted artilleryman. He was not destined, however, to fulfil his arduous military duties to the full term of his proscription. Barely a year had gone by when he was thrown from his horse and received what at first was thought a slight strain, but what later turned out to be a serious injury. The pommel of his saddle had compressed his chest, and the inflammation which set in necessitated his permanent withdrawal from service.

For a long time Nietzsche was under the care of the famous specialist, Volkmann, to whom the military doctors had turned him over when they had begun to despair of his recovery. During convalescence, he busied himself with preparations for his coming university year and assisted in some intricate indexing for members of the faculty. In October, 1868, he was able to return to Leipzig and resume his work. But another unexpected event—this one of an advantageous nature and destined to alter his whole future—came in the form of an inquiry from the University of Bale in Switzerland. The members of that institution's educational board, attracted by Nietzsche's essays in the Rheinisches Museum, wrote to Ritschl for information regarding the young philologist. Ritschl replied that Nietzsche was a genius and could do whatever he put his mind to. Thus it happened that, although only 24, he was offered the vacant post of Classical Philology at Bâle, without even being put through the formalities of an examination. However, he was straightway granted a Doctor's degree by the University of Leipzig, and on the 13th of April, 1869, he left Naumburg to assume the duties of his new appointment. His departure marked the passing of the Nietzsche household. His grandmother and both the maiden aunts were dead, and because, no doubt, of religious differences, he and his mother became estranged. Of that intimately welded family circle, only the deep friendship between Nietzsche and his sister remained.

On May 28, Nietzsche delivered his inaugural address at Bâle, using the personality of Homer as his subject. The hall was crowded, and the address made a decided impression on both students and faculty. The lecture was an unusual one and well off the conventional track. It created riot a little mild excitement among the professors at Leipzig, and the cut-and-dried philologists of that institution were frankly scandalised by its boldness. The address, however, was an index to Nietzsche's character, and, in looking back on it, we can see that it unmistakably pointed the way along which the future development of his mind was to take place. At Bâle, the young philologist, despite the people's kindly disposition toward him, suffered from solitude. His classes were small. Although he had made an impassioned plea for his particular science, the interest in philology was slight, and his morning lectures were attended by only eight students. Nietzsche was without a companion with whom he might exchange his ideas and personal thoughts. His only diversion came in the form of occasional trips to neighbouring parts of the country; and the letters he wrote to his sister and his former friends were tinged with melancholy. But he was conscientious in his work, and a year later he was given a professorship.

Before he could accept this later appointment it had been necessary for him to become a naturalised subject of Switzerland, so that when the Franco-German War of 1870 broke out, he could not serve as a combatant—a fact which caused him keen disappointment. He was able, however, to secure service as an ambulance attendant in the Hospital Corps, and set forth upon his patriotic duties with a glad heart. Having been granted the leave he asked for at the University, he went to Erlangen, where he entered for a course of surgery and medicine at the Red Cross Society. After a brief training as a nurse, in which line of work he showed remarkable adaptability, he was sent to the seat of war at the head of an ambulance corps. He was untiring in his energies and laboured day and night in the midst of the battlefields. But the overwork proved too much for him, and he soon reached the limit of his endurance. One day, after long exposure in a cattle truck filled with severely wounded and diseased men, he began to show signs of serious illness, and when, after great difficulty, he managed to reach Erlangen, it was discovered that he was suffering from diphtheria and severe dysentery. Though he had seen but a few weeks' hospital service, it was now necessary for him to discontinue his duties entirely. His sister tells us that this illness greatly undermined his health, and was the first cause of his subsequent condition. To make matters worse, the slight medical education which he had received in preparation for his ambulance service led him to pursue a fateful course of self-doctoring—a practice which he continued to his own detriment throughout the remainder of his life. Nietzsche did not even wait until he was well before resuming his duties at the University, and this new strain imposed on his already depleted system had much to do with bringing on his final breakdown.

As a result of the Philistinism which broke out all over Germany at the end of the war, Nietzsche delivered a course of lectures at Bonn, which he entitled "On the Future of Our Educational Institutions." Germany had insisted that her victory was due not only to physical bravery but also in a large measure to the superiority of Germanic culture and Teutonic ideals. Nietzsche beheld in this snobbish attitude a very grave danger for his country, and endeavoured in a small way to rectify this attitude by a series of lectures. He severely criticised the German educational institutions of the day and went so far as to deny them the great culture which they so ardently claimed. While these lectures in no wise stemmed, even locally, the tide of Philistinism at which they were aimed, the criticisms contained in them are of the greatest importance in reviewing the development of the philosopher himself. The lectures contained, perhaps unconsciously but none the less clearly, many of the elements of that philosophy which later was to have so tremendous an influence not only on Germany but on the whole civilised world.

In the same year, 1872, Nietzsche's first important book appeared. This work, dedicated to Richard Wagner, had been begun in 1869, and was first called "The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music." When the third edition appeared in 1886 the title was changed to "The Birth of Tragedy, or Hellenism and Pessimism," and a preface called "An Attempt at Self-Criticism" was added. In a large measure this book was a tribute to Wagner, and was written by Nietzsche in an effort to be of immediate benefit to the musician who at that time was passing through a period of despondency. Wagner was then living at Tribschen, not far from Bâle, and Nietzsche's visits to him were frequent. It was during these years that the great friendship between the two men developed. "The Birth of Tragedy," however, was not well received by the public. Musicians were pleased with it, but philologists in particular deplored its utterances. They looked upon its author as a traitor to their science for having dared to venture beyond the narrow bounds of academic formalism. One well-known philologist, Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, attacked Nietzsche in an ill-humoured pamphlet; and although Erwin Rohde answered it adequately with another pamphlet, the attack proved detrimental to Nietzsche's standing at Bale. During the following winter term the young philologist was entirely without pupils.

His mind, however, was now undergoing decided and important changes. He was becoming bolder and surer of himself. New ideals were taking the place of old ones, and in 1873 he began a series of famous pamphlets which later were put into book form under the title of "Thoughts Out of Season." His first attack was upon David Strauss; the second was directed towards the German historians of the day; the third was aimed at Schopenhauer; and the fourth was the famous panegyric, "Richard Wagner in Bayreuth." These essays, together with his work at Bâle, occupied him until 1876. Nietzsche was now suffering severely from the malady he carried to his grave, catarrh of the stomach. This was accompanied by severe headaches, and during his holidays he alternated between Switzerland and Italy in an endeavour to recover his health. In the former place he was with Wagner. In Italy, at Sorrento, he met Dr. Paul Rée, who, if we are to believe Max Nordau, was the father of all Nietzsche's ideas. Credence, however, cannot be given to this accusation, for the nucleus of all of his later ideas was undeniably contained in his writings previous to his meeting with Rée. That Rée influenced him to some small extent no one will deny, for it was he who turned the young philosopher's attention to the latter day scientists of both England and France; and it was shortly after this meeting that Nietzsche began his first independent philosophical work, "Human, All-Too-Human."

It was in the year 1876 that his famous friendship with Wagner began to cool. Nietzsche had gone to Bayreuth to witness the performance of "Der Ring des Nibelungen" Already he had begun to question his own high opinion of the composer, and Bayreuth solidified his doubts. It had been two years since he had seen Wagner, and after a brief conversation, Nietzsche became bitter and disgusted. When he finally went away his revulsion was complete, and one of the greatest of historic friendships was at an end. Whatever were the individual merits in the quarrel between these two great contemporaneous men, Nietzsche's attitude was at least consistent with his innermost ideals. He had admired in Wagner certain definite, revolutionary qualities, and when he was convinced, as he had every reason to be, that Wagner was compromising his art for the purpose of popularity, the ideal was broken. He could no longer remain true to himself and also to his friendship for the great composer. "Parsifal" was undoubtedly a decadent work, viewed from the standpoint of Wagner's previous performances. Decadence is simply the inability to create new tissue; and when Wagner forswore modern ideas and reverted to the past, it attested to an entire change of mental attitude: and no purely æsthetic doctrine can controvert the fact. Had Cézanne in later life essayed the painting of conventionally posed saints—no matter what his technical means might have been—his art would have contained the elements of decadence, for an artist's mental attitude cannot be dissevered from his product. This, I believe, was Nietzsche's theory in regard to Wagner. That the breaking off of this friendship was a great blow to the philosopher we know from his diary and from his letters. In fact, his affection for Wagner, the man, was so great that it was not until ten years had passed that he could bring himself to write the essay which he had long had in mind, "The Fall of Wagner."

The year after the appearance of "Human, All-Too-Human," Nietzsche's ill-health compelled him to resign his professorship at Bâle. He had a small income which, together with the three thousand francs retiring allowance granted him by the University, permitted him now to travel moderately and to devote his entire time to his literary labours. He first went to Berne, where he stayed a few weeks. Later he visited Zürich and then St. Moritz. It was a brief holiday, but the change of locale, coupled with the relaxation from work, improved him both in physical health and in spirits. The winter of 1879-80 he spent with his mother at Naumburg, his old home; but the climate and the uncongenial surroundings dragged down his health once more, and it was not until toward the following spring, when he went to Venice, that he regained even a semblance of his normal condition. Here he was in company with Paul Rée and his life-long friend and disciple, Heinrich Köselitz, commonly known as Peter Gast. Nietzsche stayed at Venice until October, when he went to Genoa. The following year appeared "The Dawn of Day," his first book of constructive thinking.

The remainder of Nietzsche's life up to the time of his final breakdown in January, 1889, was spent in a fruitless endeavour to regain his undermined health. For eight years, during all of which time he was busily engaged in writing, he sought a climate that would revive him. His summers were spent for the most part in the quiet solitude of Sils-Maria, a little Swiss village to which the tourist rarely ventured. In 1882 he visited Genoa and, with Paul Rée as companion, made a trip to Monaco. This journey ended disastrously for his health, and by his physician's order he made a trip to Messina. Soon after he settled at Grunewald, near Berlin; but the place depressed him, and we find him later in Tautenburg. Again Genoa claimed him for several months, and then, addicted to chloral, and despondent, he sought relief at Rome. But he could not stand the hot weather, and again he visited Sils-Maria, where, it seems, he was for the time greatly improved. In 1884, we find him again at Naumburg, and a little later at Nice and Venice. In the autumn of the same year, he spent several weeks travelling with his sister in Germany, but at the approach of winter, he proceeded to Mentone. In 1885 he again sought the company of Peter Gast at Venice, and spent the larger part of that year and the next at Venice and Nice. The lonely philosopher then paid a short visit to Leipzig to be once again with his old friend Rohde. But the years had estranged them; their views were now at opposites. Another of his few friends thus lost to him, he immediately returned to Nice. The year 1886 found him at the Riviera, and in 1887 he was again at Sils-Maria. Here he laboured incessantly, travelling to both Venice and Nice in the meantime. In the spring of 1888 he changed his plans and went to Turin. Then after his usual summer visit to Sils-Maria, he returned to Turin, where he remained until the fatal winter of 1888-89. Nietzsche was rarely happy during his travels. He was constantly ill and for the most part alone, and this perturbed and restless period of his life resolved itself into a continuous struggle against melancholy and physical suffering.

During these eight years of solitary labour and futile seeking for health, Nietzsche had written "Thus Spake Zarathustra," "The Joyful Wisdom," "Beyond Good and Evil," "The Genealogy of Morals," "The Case of Wagner," "The Twilight of the Idols," "The Antichrist," "Ecce Homo" "Nietzsche contra Wagner," and an enormous number of notes which were to constitute his final and great philosophical work, "The Will to Power." The cold reception with which his books met tended to discourage him and to retard his physical recovery. His "Zarathustra" was as greatly misunderstood by the critics as had been his earlier volumes. With the exception of Burckhardt and Taine, the critics were unfavourable to "Beyond Good and Evil." "The Genealogy of Morals" met with scarcely more friendly a reception, and "The Case of Wagner," while arousing the ire of the Wagnerians, caused no comment of any kind in any other quarter. "The Twilight of the Idols" appeared about the time of his breakdown, and "The Antichrist" and "Ecce Homo" were not published until long after his death. The notes on "The Will to Power" have only recently been put together and issued.

The events during this period of Nietzsche's career were few. Perhaps the most important was his meeting with Miss Lou Salomé. But even this episode had small bearing on his life, and has been unduly emphasised by biographers because of its isolation in an existence outwardly drab and uneventful. It was while Nietzsche was at Tautenburg that Paul Rée and another friend, Malvida von Mysenburg, hearing that he was in need of a secretary, sent to him Miss Salomé, a young Russian Jewess. That it would have been difficult to find a person less suited to the philosopher's needs was borne out by subsequent events. According to some accounts Nietzsche fell mildly in love with her, and was upset and irritated by her aloofness. But such a hypothesis is substantiated only by the flimsiest of evidence, and, when we take into consideration the temperamental gulf between these two people, it is highly incredible that Nietzsche had any desire to form an alliance with his amanuensis. The truth of the matter probably is that the philosopher was sadly disappointed in his secretary—if not indeed disgusted with her—and, in showing his regret, piqued her to retaliation. In fact, we have a letter from Nietzsche to the young lady which bears out this contention. In any event, we know that their companionship lasted but a short time and that Miss Salomé wrote a most inept and unreliable book on Nietzsche, "Friedrich Nietzsche in seinen Werken" published in Vienna in 1894. The affair had other painful results. Rée defended his protegée, and he and Nietzsche became bitter enemies. Nietzsche's sister also was dragged into the episode, and quarrelled with both Rée and Miss Salomé.

Shortly after this unpleasant event, Nietzsche, urged by his sister, made a half-hearted attempt to secure a professorship at the University of Leipzig, but negotiations for the post fell through, due largely to Nietzsche's own indifference in the matter. Soon after this the philosopher became estranged from his sister because of her intention to marry Dr. Förster. Nietzsche's opposition to the marriage—an opposition which was supported by his mother—was due to several reasons. First, it would necessitate his sister leaving him and accompanying her husband to Paraguay. Secondly, it had been rumoured that Dr. Förster had severely criticised his books. And thirdly, Nietzsche had small respect for Dr. Förster himself, who was an impractical idealist and an anti-Semite. However, despite all the family protestations, the marriage took place. Nietzsche was disappointed and brooded over the event, but a year later he became reconciled with his sister, and she remained, to the end of his life, his closest friend and companion.

In January, 1889, an apoplectic fit, which rendered Nietzsche unconscious for two days, marked the beginning of the end. His manner suddenly became alarming. He exhibited numerous eccentricities, so grave as to mean but one thing: his mind was seriously affected. There has long been a theory extant that his insanity was of gradual growth. Nordau holds that he was unbalanced from birth. But there is no evidence to substantiate these two theories. For seven years Nietzsche's physical condition had been improving, and his mind up to the end of 1888 was perfectly clear and gave no indication of what his end would be. During this period his books were thought out in his most clarified manner; in all his intercourse with his friends he was restrained and normal; and his voluminous correspondence showed no change either in sentiment or in tone. The theory advanced in some quarters that his books, and especially his later ones, were the work of a madman, is entirely without foundation. His insanity was sudden; it came without warning; and it is puerile to point to his state of mind during the last years of his life as a criticism of his work. His books must stand or fall on internal evidence—and on nothing else. Judged from that standpoint they are scrupulously sane.

The direct cause of Nietzsche's mental breakdown is not known. As a matter of fact, there was probably no direct cause. It was due to a number of influences—his excessive use of chloral which he took for insomnia, the tremendous strain to which he put his intellect, his constant disappointments and deprivations, his mental solitude, his prolonged physical suffering. We know little of his last days before he went insane. He was living alone in Turin and working desperately. Then suddenly to Professor Burckhardt at Bale he wrote a letter which was obviously the work of a madman. "I am Ferdinand de Lesseps," he wrote. "I am Prado. I am Schambige.[1] I have been buried twice this autumn." This was the first indication of his insanity. Immediately after he wrote a similar letter to his old friend, Professor Overbeck. Other of Nietzsche's friends received disquieting and indecipherable notes. To Georg Brandes he sent a letter signed "The Crucified." To Peter Gast he wrote, "Sing me a new song. The world is clear and all the skies rejoice." To Cosima Wagner: "Ariadne, I love you."

There was now no doubt of his condition. Overbeck went immediately to Turin. He found the philosopher playing wildly on the piano, and crying blasphemies to the empty room. Nietzsche was taken back to Bâle, and then placed in a private psychiatric institution at Jena. Here he stayed until the following spring when he was permitted to be taken to the home of his mother at Naumburg. It was three years later that his sister returned from Paraguay, where her husband had died, and Nietzsche was sufficiently recovered to meet her when she arrived. But though he lived for another seven years, his mind was irretrievably ruined. When his mother died in 1897, his sister removed him to a villa at Weimar. There on a great veranda, overlooking the hills and the river valley, he remained until the end, receiving a few of his friends and taking his old delight in music. His sister watched over him tenderly, and though he was never strong enough to resume work, he would often talk of his books. When shown a portrait of Wagner, he said, "Him I loved dearly." He was all tenderness toward the end. The mighty yea-sayer had become as a little child. "Elizabeth," he would say, "do not cry. Are we not happy?"

Nietzsche died on the 25th of August, 1900, and was buried at Röcken, his native village.

[1] Schambige and Prado were two assassins whose exploits were then occupying the French journals.

[II]

"Human, All-Too-Human"

Volumes I and II

"Human, All-Too-Human" ("Menschliches Allzu Menschliches") was first published in 1878. Previous to this time Nietzsche had devoted himself to a sedulous study of the French philosophers—Pascal, La Rochefoucauld, Vanergues, Montaigne and others—and these men influenced him in his selection of the aphoristic style as a medium for his thoughts. His serious illness at the time made it impossible for him to attempt any large and co-ordinated philosophical task which would have required sustained thinking and continual physical labour, and the detached manner of writing employed by the French thinkers fitted in with the intermittent manner in which he was necessitated to work. "Miscellaneous Maxims and Opinions," the second part of "Human, All-Too-Human," appeared the following year; and "The Wanderer and his Shadow," the third section, was made public in 1880. Six years later these three parts were put together in two volumes under the caption of the original book, and were subtitled "A Book of Free Spirits."

At that time Nietzsche already had numerous writings to his credit. "The Birth of Tragedy" ("Die Geburt der Tragödie") was composed between 1869 and 1871, and issued in January, 1872. It was a treatise on pessimism and Hellenism, and in it Nietzsche endeavoured to ascertain the origin of Greek tragedy. In his research he passed over many of the lesser philological discussions which were then occupying the minds of his academic confrères, and, mild as was this first published work of his, he suddenly found himself the centre of a discussion which augured ill for his future at the University of Bâle. In this book he undertook to explain the constant conflict between the Apollonian and Dionysian ideals, and defined the differences underlying these two great influences in Greek art. Later in his writings we find him applying the theories stated in "The Birth of Tragedy" to all human transactions.

"On the Future of our Educational Institutions" and "Homer and Classical Philology," contained in one volume, were addresses delivered during Nietzsche's professorship of classical philology at Bâle University. In these lectures he pointed out the necessity of protecting the man of genius, and denied the existence of actual culture in the educational institutions of modern Germany, holding that true culture is only for the higher type of man. He made a plea for an institution where genuine culture, founded on the ideals of ancient Greece, would be harboured for the few who would devote their lives to it. Here unquestionably was the faint beginning of his conception of the superman. While these lectures dealt only with the educational institutions of Germany, the criticisms in them may nevertheless be applied in a broader sense to the general principles underlying all schools. This book is the first visible step in the development of his thought.

More evidences of what was to come later are found in a series of essays written during the early seventies, which are now published under the general caption of "Early Greek Philosophy and Other Essays." The seven essays contained in this volume are: "The Greek State" (1871), in which he attacked the modern conception of labour, and advanced a brief for slavery based on the assumption that without it true culture cannot exist; "The Greek Woman" (1871), an outline of Nietzsche's ideal of woman; "On Music and Words" (1871), an analysis of the origins of music and language and a statement of the functions of each; "Homer's Contest" (1872), a comparison of the ancient and modern individualistic strife, in which was pointed out the necessity of competition in any successful commonwealth; "The Relation of Schopenhauer's Philosophy to a German Culture" (1872), a gay attack upon certain phases of German philistinism, with the suggestion that Schopenhauer's philosophy would prove an excellent counter-irritant; "Philosophy During the Tragic Age of the Greeks" (1873), a brilliant account and exposition of those Greek thinkers who preceded Socrates; and "On Truth and Falsity in their Ultramoral Sense" (1873), a rhapsodic refutation of the theory of absolute truth, in which we find many denials of the values attached to current conventions. These denials we are constantly meeting in the major part of Nietzsche's later work.

In Volume I of "Thoughts Out of Season" we find two essays: "David Strauss, the Confessor and Writer" (written in 1873), and "Richard Wagner at Bayreuth" (written during the close of 1875 and at the beginning of 1876). The first essay is an attack upon an ex-clerical who set up a philosopher's shop in Nietzsche's day and succeeded in sufficiently inflaming the popular mind to secure for himself a wide and ardent following. Nietzsche, angered by the effect that Strauss's sophistries had upon the German mind, undertook to answer them and show up their spuriousness. In the essay on Richard Wagner, Nietzsche praised the composer in no uncertain terms, hailing him as a saviour of mankind through the medium of the drama. Nietzsche thought he saw in Wagner a kindred spirit, a man free from the narrow dictates of his time, one capable of establishing a new order of things in the realm of art. Subsequently the philosopher turned against Wagner and denounced him bitterly for his anti-Hellenic tendencies.

Volume II of "Thoughts out of Season" contains "The Use and Abuse of History" and "Schopenhauer as Educator," both written in 1874. In the first of these essays Nietzsche attacked the study of history which was then the foremost educational fad in Germany. He denied it a place in the curriculum of culture unless it had for its foundation a profound knowledge of the causes of history. Also in this essay he made a plea for the individualistic interpretation of history, arguing that the events founded on the activities of majorities are useless to a true understanding of the fundamentals of racial development. Here again we encounter the foreshadowing of the philosophy of the superman. Nietzsche paid high tribute to Schopenhauer in his essay "Schopenhauer as Educator." Without subscribing unqualifiedly to all the doctrines of the great pessimist, he nevertheless allied himself philosophically with Schopenhauer's theory that all logic is an outgrowth of the law of self-preservation.

In the autumn of 1874 Nietzsche wrote a series of brief comments dealing with the subject of education. These paragraphs contain about 20,000 words, and were to have constituted, when completed, the fifth part of "Thoughts Out of Season." He never finished them, however, and they were not published until after his death. These fragments appear, under the caption of "We Philologists," at the end of the volume entitled "The Case of Wagner." "We Philologists" is a protest against the manner in which classical culture was promulgated in the universities. It offers a stinging criticism of those German professors, the philologists, to whom was entrusted the duty of disseminating Greek cultural ideals, and in addition presents a concise outline of what genuine Hellenic culture should consist. Nietzsche protests against the filtering of pagan antiquity through Christian doctrines—the method of teaching then in vogue—and insists that such a form of education entirely misses its aim. Although "We Philologists" is comparatively of small value to the student of Nietzsche's later philosophy, it is interesting to note that as early as 1874, his anti-Christian spirit was already well defined.

The four essays contained in the two volumes of "Thoughts out of Season" and "We Philologists" were the first of an intended series of pamphlets to be called "Unzeitgemässe Betrachtungen"[1] but the series was never finished. However, the Nietzschean philosophical ideas had unquestionably begun to take definite form. Already there had been attempts at idealistic and moralistic valuations. There had also been a considerable amount of that preliminary analysis which was to form a foundation for the destructive and constructive thoughts of later years. In these essays Nietzsche had already begun to strike his bearings, and while they cannot be taken as a part of his philosophical scheme, they nevertheless form an excellent introduction for those students who care to go behind the final expression of his ideas and behold them in embryo.

"Human, All-Too-Human," following two years later, came as a distinct surprise even to Nietzsche's most intimate friends: Wagner especially was horrified at the heresies contained in it. There had not been sufficient indications in his earlier writings for one to predict so devastating an arraignment of modern life as was contained in this work. It was a departure, not only in thought but also in manner, from all else he had written. The conventional essay form had been set aside for an aphoristic style. Here we find a series of paragraphs varying in length from a few lines to a page or more, each dealing with a separate and syllogistically detached idea. The epigram, which was to play such an important part in all of Nietzsche's writings, is also found in abundance. The form in which these two volumes are cast gives the effect of a man felling a giant tree with a thousand blows of an axe, as distinguished from the method of the man who saws it down gradually and continuously.

Despite its muscular and incisive qualities, the manner of this work is calm. As a whole it is an excellent example of those writings which Nietzsche himself has called Apollonian. At times one even feels a tentativeness in its utterances not unlike that which attaches to the steps a man takes in a region he knows to be full of quicksands. In this regard it is interesting to note how a certain insecurity at the beginning of the work, which manifests itself in ultra-obscure passages, later gives way to a clarity and humour indicative of almost wanton temerity. In this book Nietzsche passes from the academician to the iconoclast. He bridges the chasm from the doctor of philology to the independent thinker. It is the record of the psychological transition of his mind; and this record is evident in both his outlook and his habits of expression.

Nietzsche, at his birth as a thinker, presents himself as an arch-nihilist. He realised the necessity of destroying the universe before an understanding of it was possible, and so the two volumes of "Human, All-Too-Human" are almost entirely destructive. In this work we have Nietzsche the trail-blazer, the incendiary, the idol-smasher, the pessimist, the devastator. One by one the doctrines and tenets, strengthened by the accumulative acceptance of centuries, go down before his bludgeon. Piece by piece the universe of reality is neutralised by his analyses. Every human transaction, every phase of human hope and aspiration, is reduced to negation. Ancient and modern cultures are dissected unsparingly. Political systems are stripped of their integuments and their origins exposed. New valuations are attached to the great artists and writers. Many of Nietzsche's most famous definitions grow out of the ruthless inquests he makes in this work.

This uncompassionate clearing away of accepted values prepared the way for the books which were to come. Once having ascertained the foundation on which human actions are built, the path was clear for reconstruction and reorganisation. "Human, All-Too-Human," then, was the first indirect voicing of Nietzsche's philosophy. All else had been mere skirmishing with ideas. Only vaguely and desultorily had his opinions been heretofore voiced. His analysis of history, his criticisms of ancient and modern thought, had actually pried away the superficial manifestations of existence and given him that insight into the undercurrents of causation which was later to inspire him in his work. For this reason we are more conscious of the man than of the philosopher when reading the series of aphorisms which constitute the main body of this document. "Human, All-Too-Human" is in the main an inquiry into the fundamental reasons for human conduct. Nietzsche devotes his efforts to showing that ideals, when pushed to their final analysis, reveal a basis in human need. Especially does he concern himself with the causes underlying current moral doctrines. He points out that there is no static and absolute morality, but that all moral codes are systems of deportment founded on human conditions in accordance with the environmental needs of a people. From this he states the corollary that all morality is subject to alteration, amendment and abrogation. He asserts the relativity of the terms "good" and "evil," and denies the justice of any final criticism of right and wrong as applied to any human action.

From this Nietzsche deduces the formula which is at the bottom of all individualistic philosophy, namely: that what is immoral for one man is moral for another, and that the application of any moral code is undesirable for the reason that no system of conduct can apply alike to all men. Thus any attempt on the part of any one man to direct the actions of any other man is in itself an immorality, because it is an attempt to hinder and retard the development of the individual. It must not be thought that Nietzsche's arrival at this conclusion is a direct and simple affair based on superficial observation. Nor is it in itself the end for which he strives. To the contrary, the conclusion is stated mainly by inference. The work he lays out for himself is one of analysis, and under his critical scalpel fall religions, political institutions and nations, as well as individuals. Wherever he finds a belief whose origin is considered divine, he tears away its surface characteristics and inquires into it. In every instance he finds a human ground for it. Going still further, he points out that all institutions, in order to meet the constantly fluctuating conditions of society, must subject themselves to change.

A multiplicity of themes comes under Nietzsche's observation in this work. Not only is there a great deal of abstract reasoning but also a vast amount of brilliant and penetrating criticism of men and art. Ancient and modern philosophers, novelists, poets, musicians, dramatists, as well as theories of art, literature and music, here come under his careful and acute analysis. There are passages of startling poetry interpolated between paragraphs of cynical and destructive research. Nietzsche reveals himself as a scholar, the philologist, the historian and the scientist, as well as the thinker. The amount of general knowledge he displays in nearly every line of human endeavour is astonishing. In his most elaborate processes of ratiocination he is always capable of adhering to authenticated facts. He never side-steps into the purely metaphysical or denies the existence of corporeality once it has been assumed as a hypothesis. He breaks once and for all with the metaphysicians and word-jugglers. Denying all reason in the Kantian sense, he is always scrupulously reasonable.

Although no direct philosophical doctrines are propounded in "Human, All-Too-Human," Nietzsche had undoubtedly outlined in his mind the constructive works which were to come later. However, in reading this work one finds but little indication—and that only obscurely hinted at—of the transvaluation of values which was to follow the devaluation. We have no hint, for instance, of the doctrine of the superman other than an implied ideal of an intellectual aristocracy which will permit of the highest development; of the individual. Evolution beyond the present is mentioned but indirectly. The future, to this destructive Nietzsche, is non-existent. His eyes are continually turned toward the past and they shift no further than the present. Only through implication is the Hellenic ideal voiced, and then it is with a certain degree of speculation as to its efficacy in meeting the demands of the modern man. Greek culture is used largely as a means of comparison, or as an arbitrary premise of his dialectic. The doctrine of eternal recurrence, which was to form one of the bases of "Thus Spake Zarathustra," is not even suggested. The "will to power," the anti-Schopenhauerian doctrine, which is the framework on which all of Nietzsche's constructive thinking is hung, was, at the time of his writing "Human, All-Too-Human," a hypothesis, vague and undeveloped.

"Human, All-Too-Human" is the first work of Nietzsche one should read. In reality it is an elaborate introduction to his later works. In his following book, "The Dawn of Day," comes the birth of his philosophy; it is the first real battle in his righteous warfare, the first great blasphemous assault upon the accepted order of things. But it cannot be readily understood or appreciated unless we have prepared ourselves for it.

The selection of the passages from the present two volumes has been extremely difficult, due to their multiplicity of themes and to the heterogeneity of their treatment. It is impossible to create a convincing effect of a razed forest by presenting a picture of an occasional fallen tree. Herein has lain my chief difficulty. I have been able to show only sections of the destruction of human values which Nietzsche here accomplishes. Furthermore, it has been impossible to give any very adequate idea of the vast amount of brilliant criticism of men and art which is to be encountered in these two volumes. All this must be got direct. It has been possible only to suggest it here. Those portions of the books which I have been able to comprehend in these excerpts are necessarily limited to Nietzsche's more important destructive conclusions.

[1] "Inopportune Speculations."

EXCERPTS FROM "HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN"

Everything essential in human development happened in pre-historic times, long before those four thousand years which we know something of.... 1, 15

Everything has evolved; there are no eternal facts, as there are likewise no absolute truths. 1, 15

It is probable that the objects of religious, moral, æsthetic and logical sentiment likewise belong only to the surface of things, while man willingly believes that here, at least, he has touched the heart of the world.... 1, 17

Nothing could be said of the metaphysical world but that it would be a different condition, a condition inaccessible and incomprehensible to us; it would be a thing of negative qualities. Were the existence of such a world ever so well proved, the fact would nevertheless remain that it would be precisely the most irrelevant of all forms of knowledge.... 1, 21-22

Belief in the freedom of the will is an original error of everything organic, as old as the existence of the awakenings of logic in it; the belief in unconditioned substances and similar things is equally a primordial as well as an old error of everything organic. 1, 33

A degree of culture, and assuredly a very high one, is attained when man rises above superstitious and religious notions and fears, and, for instance, no longer believes in guardian angels or in original sin, and has also ceased to talk of the salvation of his soul,—if he has attained to this degree of freedom, he has still also to overcome metaphysics with the greatest exertion of his intelligence. 1, 35

Away with those wearisomely hackneyed terms Optimism and Pessimism!... We must get rid of both the calumniating and the glorifying conception of the world. 1, 43-44

Error has made man so deep, sensitive, and inventive that he has put forth such blossoms as religions and arts. Pure knowledge could not have been capable of it. 1, 44-45

The usual false conclusions of mankind are these: a thing exists, therefore it has a right to exist. Here there is inference from the ability to live to its suitability; from its suitability to its rightfulness. Then: an opinion brings happiness; therefore it is the true opinion. Its effect is good; therefore it is itself good and true. 1, 45

Every belief in the value and worthiness of life is based on vitiated thought; it is only possible through the fact that sympathy for the general life and suffering of mankind is very weakly developed in the individual. 1, 47-48

Science ... has no consideration for ultimate purposes, any more than Nature has, but just as the latter occasionally achieves things of the greatest suitableness without intending to do so, so also true science, as the imitator of nature in ideas, will occasionally and in many ways further the usefulness and welfare of man,—but also without intending to do so. 1, 58

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 distinctions is forgotten, and it is deemed that the qualities "good" or "bad" are contained in the action itself without regard to its consequences.... 1, 59

The hierarchy of possessions ... is not fixed and equal at all times; if any one prefers vengeance to justice he is moral according to the standard of an earlier civilisation, but immoral according to the present one. 1, 63

People who are cruel nowadays must be accounted for by us as the grades of earlier civilisations which have survived.... 1, 63

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. 1, 68

The thirst for pity is the thirst for self-gratification.... 1, 69

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. 1, 71

One of the commonest mistakes is this: because some one is truthful and honest towards us, he must speak the truth. 1, 71

Why do people mostly speak the truth in daily life?... Because ... the path of compulsion and authority is surer than that of cunning. 1,72

One may promise actions, but no sentiments, for these are involuntary. 1, 76

Our crime against criminals lies in the fact that we treat them like rascals. 1,79

Every virtue has its privileges; for example, that of contributing its own little fagot to the scaffold of every condemned man. 1, 80

Why do we over-estimate 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. 1, 81

Hope,—in reality ... is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man. 1, 82

One will seldom go wrong if one attributes extreme actions to vanity, average ones to habit, and petty ones to fear. 1, 83

Religion is rich in excuses to reply to the demand for suicide, and thus it ingratiates itself with those who wish to cling to life. 1, 85-86

The injustice of the powerful, which, more than anything else, rouses indignation in history, is by no means so great as it appears.... One unconsciously takes it for granted that doer and sufferer think and feel alike, and according to this supposition we measure the guilt of the one by the pain of the other. 1, 86-87

When virtue has slept, it will arise again all the fresher. 1, 87

What a great deal of pleasure morality gives! Only think what a sea of pleasant tears has been shed over descriptions of noble and unselfish deeds! This charm of life would vanish if the belief in absolute irresponsibility Were to obtain supremacy. 1, 90

Justice (equity) has its origin amongst powers which are fairly equal.... The character of exchange is the primary character of justice.... Because man, according to his intellectual custom, has forgotten the original purpose of so-called just and reasonable actions, and particularly because for hundreds of years children have been taught to admire and imitate such actions, the idea has gradually arisen that such an action is un-egoistic; upon this idea, however, is based the high estimation in which it is held.... 1, 90-91

The feeling of pleasure on the basis of human relations generally makes man better; joy in common, pleasure enjoyed together is increased, it gives the individual security, makes him good-tempered, and dispels mistrust and envy, for we feel ourselves at ease and see others at ease. Similar manifestations of pleasure awaken the idea of the same sensations, the feeling of being like something; a like effect is produced by common sufferings, the same bad weather, dangers, enemies. Upon this foundation is based the oldest alliance, the object of which is the mutual obviating and averting of a threatening danger for the benefit of each individual. And thus the social instinct grows out of pleasure. 1, 97

The aim of malice is not the suffering of others in itself, but our own enjoyment.... 1, 102

If self-defence is allowed to pass as moral, then almost all manifestations of the so-called immoral egoism must also stand.... 1, 104

He who is punished does not deserve the punishment, he is only used as a means of henceforth warning away from certain actions; equally so, he who is rewarded does not merit this reward, he could not act otherwise than he did. 1, 105

Between good and evil actions there is no difference of species, but at most of degree. Good actions are sublimated evil ones; evil actions are vulgarised and stupefied good ones. 1, 108

The religious cult is based upon the representations of sorcery between man and man.... 1, 121

Christianity ... oppressed man and crushed him utterly, sinking him as if in deep mire; then into the feeling of absolute depravity it suddenly threw the light of divine mercy, so that the surprised man, dazzled by forgiveness, gave a cry of joy and for a moment believed that he bore all heaven within himself. 1, 124

People to whom their daily life appears too empty and monotonous easily grow religious; this is comprehensible and excusable, only they have no right to demand religious sentiments from those whose daily life is not empty and monotonous. 1, 125

No man ever did a thing which was done only for others and without any personal motive.... 1, 134

In every ascetic morality man worships one part of himself as a God, and is obliged, therefore, to diabolise the other parts. 1, 140

What is it that we long for at the sight of beauty? We long to be beautiful, we fancy it must bring much happiness with it. But that is a mistake. 1, 156

There is an art of the ugly soul side by side with the art of the beautiful soul.... 1, 157

Artists of representation are especially held to be possessed of genius, but not scientific men. In reality, however, the former valuation and the latter under-valuation are only puerilities of reason. 1, 166-167

A good author possesses not only his own intellect, but also that of his friends. 1, 178

To look upon writing as a regular profession should justly be regarded as a form of madness. 1, 181

A conversation with a friend will only bear good fruit of knowledge when both think only of the matter under consideration and forget that they are friends. 1, 183

Complete praise has a weakening effect. 1, 184

There will always be a need of bad authors; for they meet the taste of readers of an undeveloped, immature age.... 1, 185

The born aristocrats of the mind are not in too much of a hurry; their creations appear and fall from the tree on some quiet autumn evening, without being rashly desired, instigated, or pushed aside by new matter. The unceasing desire to create is vulgar, and betrays envy, jealousy, and ambition. If a man is something, it is not really necessary for him to do anything—and yet he does a great deal. There is a human species higher even than the "productive" man.... 1, 189

Deviating natures are of the utmost importance wherever there is to be progress. Every wholesale progress must be preceded by a partial weakening. The strongest natures retain the type, the weaker ones help it to develop. 1, 208

In the knowledge of truth, what really matters is the possession of it, not the impulse under which it was sought, the way in which it was found. 1, 210

The fettered spirit does not take up his position from conviction, but from habit; he is a Christian, for instance, not because he had a comprehension of different creeds and could take his choice; he is an Englishman, not because he decided for England, but he found Christianity and England ready-made and accepted them without any reason, just as one who is born in a wine-country becomes a wine-drinker. 1, 211

The restriction of views, which habit has made instinct, leads to what is called strength of character. 1, 212-213

The highest intelligence and the warmest heart cannot exist together in one person, and the wise man who passes judgment upon life looks beyond goodness and only regards it as something which is not without value in the general summing-up of life. The wise man must oppose those digressive wishes of unintelligent goodness, because he has an interest in the continuance of his type and in the eventual appearance of the highest intellect; at least, he will not advance the founding of the "perfect State," inasmuch as there is only room in it for wearied individuals. 1, 218-219

Interest in Education will acquire great strength only from the moment when belief in a God and His care is renounced.... 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. 1, 224-225

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 overheating must be averted by the help of conscious Science. 1, 232

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.... 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. 1, 235

It is true that in the spheres of higher culture there must always be a supremacy, but henceforth this supremacy lies in the hands of the oligarchs of the mind. In spite of local and political separation they form a cohesive society, whose members recognise and acknowledge each other, whatever public opinion and the verdicts of review and newspaper writers who influence the masses may circulate in favour of or against them. Mental superiority, which formerly divided and embittered, nowadays generally unites. ... Oligarchs are necessary to each other, they are each other's best joy, they understand their signs, but each is nevertheless free, he fights and conquers in his place and perishes rather than submit. 1, 243

The greatest advance that men have made lies in their acquisition of the art to reason rightly. 1, 249-250

The strength and weakness of mental productiveness depend far less on inherited talents than on the accompanying amount of elasticity. 1, 250

Whoever, in the present day, still derives his development from religious sentiments, and perhaps lives for some length of time afterwards in metaphysics and art, has assuredly gone back a considerable distance and begins his race with other modern men under unfavourable conditions; he apparently loses time and space. But because he stays in those domains where ardour and energy are liberated and force flows continuously as a volcanic stream out of an inexhaustible source, he goes forward all the more quickly as soon as he has freed himself at the right moment from those dominators.... 1, 252

Whoever wishes to reap happiness and comfort in life should always avoid higher culture. 1, 255-250

All mankind is divided, as it was at all times and is still, into slaves and freemen; for whoever has not two-thirds of his day for himself is a slave.... 1, 259

If idleness is really the beginning of all vice, it finds itself, therefore, at least in near neighbourhood of all the virtues; the idle man is still a better man than the active. You do not suppose that in speaking of idleness and idlers I am alluding to you, you sluggards? 1, 260

I believe that every one must have his own opinion about everything concerning which opinions are possible, because he himself is a peculiar, unique thing, which assumes towards all other things a new and never hitherto existing attitude. 1, 260-261

Whoever earnestly desires to be free will therewith and without any compulsion lose all inclination for faults and vices; he will also be more rarely overcome by anger and vexation. 1, 261-262

You must have loved religion and art as you loved mother and nurse,—otherwise you cannot be wise. But you must be able to see beyond them, to outgrow them; if you remain under their ban you do not understand them. 1, 264

The rage for equality may so manifest itself that we seek either to draw all others down to ourselves (by belittling, disregarding, and tripping up), or ourselves and all others upwards (by recognition, assistance, and congratulation). 1, 268

We set no special value on the possession of a virtue until we perceive that it is entirely lacking in our adversary. 1, 269

We forget our pretensions when we are always conscious of being amongst meritorious people; being alone implants presumption in us. The young are pretentious, for they associate with their equals, who are all ciphers but would fain have a great significance. 1, 271

In warring against stupidity, the most just and gentle of men at last become brutal. They are thereby, perhaps, taking the proper course for defence; for the most appropriate argument for a stupid brain is the clenched fist. But because, as has been said, their character is just and gentle, they suffer more by this means of protection than they injure their opponents by it. 1, 284

The perfect woman is a higher type of humanity than the perfect man, and also something much rarer. 1, 295

Every one bears within him an image of woman, inherited from his mother: it determines his attitude towards woman as a whole, whether to honour, despise, or remain generally indifferent to them. 1, 295-296

Mothers are readily jealous of the friends of sons who are particularly successful. As a rule mother loves herself in her son more than the son. 1, 296

If married couples did not live together, happy marriages would be more frequent. 1, 298

As a rule women love a distinguished man to the extent that they wish to possess him exclusively. They would gladly keep him under lock and key, if their vanity did not forbid, but vanity demands that he should also appear distinguished before others. 1, 299

Those girls who mean to trust exclusively to their youthful charms for their provision in life, and whose cunning is further prompted by worldly mothers, have just the same aims as courtesans, only they are wiser and less honest. 1, 300

For goodness' sake let us not give our classical education to girls! 1, 301

The intellect of woman manifests itself as perfect mastery, presence of mind, and utilisation of all advantages. They transmit it as a fundamental quality to their children, and the father adds thereto the darker background of the will. His influence determines as it were the rhythm and harmony with which the new life is to be performed; but its melody is derived from the mother. For those who know how to put a thing properly: women have intelligence, men have character and passion. This does not contradict the fact that men actually achieve so much more with their intelligence: they have deeper and more powerful impulses; and it is these which carry their understanding (in itself something passive) to such an extent. Women are often silently surprised at the great respect men pay to their character. When, therefore, in the choice of a partner men seek specially for a being of deep and strong character, and women for a being of intelligence, brilliancy, and presence of mind, it is plain that at bottom men seek for the ideal man, and women for the ideal woman,—consequently not for the complement but for the completion of their own excellence. 1, 302-303.

It is a sign of women's wisdom that they have almost always known how to get themselves supported, like drones in a bee-hive. Let us just consider what this meant originally, and why men do not depend upon women for their support. Of a truth it is because masculine vanity and reverence are greater than feminine wisdom; for women have known how to secure for themselves by their subordination the greatest advantage, in fact, the upper hand. Even the care of children may originally have been used by the wisdom of women as an excuse for withdrawing themselves as much as possible from work. And at present they still understand when they are really active (as housekeepers, for instance) how to make a bewildering fuss about it, so that the merit of their activity is usually ten times over-estimated by men. 1, 303

Marriage is a necessary institution for the twenties; a useful, but not necessary, institution for the thirties; for later life it is often harmful, and promotes the mental deterioration of the man. 1, 308

Marriage regarded in its highest aspect, as the spiritual friendship of two persons of opposite sexes, and accordingly such as is hoped for in future, contracted for the purpose of producing and educating a new generation,—such marriage, which only makes use of the sensual, so to speak, as a rare and occasional means to a higher purpose, will, it is to be feared, probably need a natural auxiliary, namely, concubinage. For if, on the grounds of his health, the wife is also to serve, for the sole satisfaction of the man's sexual needs, a wrong perspective, opposed to the aims indicated, will have most influence in the choice of a wife. The aims referred to: the production of descendants, will be accidental, and their successful education highly improbable. 1, 309

We always lose through too familiar association with women and friends; and sometimes we lose the pearl of of our life thereby. 1, 312

Women always intrigue privately against the higher souls of their husbands; they want to cheat them out of their future for the sake of a painless and comfortable present. 1, 315

It is laughable when a company of paupers decree the abolition of the right of inheritance, and it is not less laughable when childless persons labour for the practical law-giving of a country: they have not enough ballast in their ship to sail safely over the ocean of the future. But it seems equally senseless if a man who has chosen for his mission the widest knowledge and estimation of universal existence, burdens himself with personal considerations of a family, with the support, protection, and care of wife and child, and in front of his telescope hangs that gloomy veil through which hardly a ray from the distant firmament can penetrate. Thus 1, too, agree with the opinion that in matters of the highest philosophy all married men are to be suspected. 1, 316

A higher culture can only originate where there are two distinct castes of society: that of the working class, and that of the leisured class who are capable of true leisure; or, more strongly expressed, the caste of compulsory labour and the caste of free labour. 1, 319

Against war it may be said that it makes the victor stupid and the vanquished revengeful. In favour of war it may be said that it barbarises in both its above-named results, and thereby makes more natural; it is the sleep or the winter period of culture; man emerges from it with greater strength for good and for evil. 1, 322

As regards Socialism, in the eyes of those who always consider higher utility, if it is really a rising against their oppressors of those who for centuries have been oppressed and downtrodden, there is no problem of right involved (notwithstanding the ridiculous, effeminate question, "How far ought we to grant its demands?") but only a problem of power ("How far can we make use of its demands?") 1, 322

Well may noble (if not exactly very intelligent) representatives of the governing classes asseverate: "We will treat men equally and grant them equal rights"; so far a socialistic mode of thought which is based on justice is possible; but, as has been said, only within the ranks of the governing class, which in this case practises justice with sacrifices and abnegations. On the other hand, to demand equality of rights, as do the Socialists of the subject caste, is by no means the outcome of justice, but of covetousness. If you expose bloody pieces of flesh to a beast, and withdraw them again, until it finally begins to roar, do you think that roaring implies justice? 1, 326-327

When the Socialists point out that the division of property at the present day is the consequence of countless deeds of injustice and violence, and, in summa, repudiate obligation to anything with so unrighteous a basis, they only perceive something isolated. The entire past of ancient civilisation is built up on violence, slavery, deception, and error; we, however, cannot annul ourselves, the heirs of all these conditions, nay, the concrescences of all this past, and are not entitled to demand the withdrawal of a single fragment thereof. 1, 327

Those who are bent on revolutionising society may be divided into those who seek something for themselves thereby and those who seek something for their children and grandchildren. The latter are the more dangerous, for they have the belief and the good conscience of disinterestedness. 1, 329

The fact that we regard the gratification of vanity as of more account than all other forms of well-being (security, position, and pleasures of all sorts), is shown to a ludicrous extent by every one wishing for the abolition of slavery and utterly abhorring to put any one into this position.... We protest in the name of the "dignity of man"; but, expressed more simply, that is just our darling vanity which feels non-equality, and inferiority in public estimation, to be the hardest lot of all. 1, 330

In all institutions into which the sharp breeze of public criticism does not penetrate an innocent corruption grows up like a fungus (for instance, in learned bodies and senates). 1, 336

The belief in a divine regulation of political affairs, in a mystery in the existence of the State, is of religious origin: if religion disappears, the State will inevitably lose its old veil of Isis, and will no longer arouse veneration. The sovereignty of the people, looked at closely, serves also to dispel the final fascination and superstition in the realm of these sentiments; modern democracy is the historical form of the decay of the State. 1, 342

Socialism is the fantastic younger brother of almost decrepit despotism, which it wants to succeed; its efforts are, therefore, in the deepest sense reactionary. For it desires such an amount of State Power as only despotism has possessed,—indeed, it outdoes all the past, in that it aims at the complete annihilation of the individual, whom it deems an unauthorised luxury of nature, which is to be improved by it into an appropriate organ of the general community. Owing to its relationship, it always appears in proximity to excessive developments of power, like the old typical socialist, Plato, at the court of the Sicilian tyrant; it desires (and under certain circumstances furthers) the Cæsarian despotism of this century, because, as has been said, it would like to become its heir. But even this inheritance would not suffice for its objects, it requires the most submissive prostration of all citizens before the absolute State, such as has never yet been realised, and as it can no longer even count upon the old religious piety towards the State, but must rather strive involuntarily and continuously for the abolition thereof,—because it strives for the abolition of all existing States,—it can only hope for existence occasionally, here and there for short periods, by means of the extremest terrorism. It is therefore silently preparing itself for reigns of terror, and drives the word "justice" like a nail into the heads of the half-cultured masses in order to deprive them completely of their understanding (after they had already suffered seriously from the half-culture), and to provide them with a good conscience for the bad game they are to play. Socialism may serve to teach, very brutally and impressively, the danger of all accumulations of State power, and may serve so far to inspire distrust of the State itself. 1, 343-344

It is nothing but fanaticism and beautiful soulism to expect very much (or even, much only) from humanity when it has forgotten how to wage war. 1, 349

Wealth necessarily creates an aristocracy of race, for it permits the choice of the most beautiful women and the engagement of the best teachers; it allows a man cleanliness, time for physical exercises, and, above all, immunity from dulling physical labour. 1, 351

Public opinion—private laziness. 1, 354

Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies. 1, 355

The unreasonableness of a thing is no argument against its existence, but rather a condition thereof. 1, 361

People who talk about their importance to mankind have a feeble conscience for common bourgeois rectitude, keeping of contracts, promises, etc. 1, 363

The demand to be loved is the greatest of presumptions. 1, 363

When a man roars with laughter he surpasses all the animals by his vulgarity. 1, 369

The first opinion that occurs to us when we are suddenly asked about anything is not usually our own, but only the current opinion belonging to our caste, position, or family; our own opinions seldom float on the surface. 1, 372

Nobody talks more passionately of his rights than he who, in the depths of his soul, is doubtful about them. 1, 380.

Unconsciously we seek the principles and opinions which are suited to our temperament, so that at last it seems as if these principles and opinions had formed our character and given it support and stability, whereas exactly the contrary has taken place. Our thoughts and judgments are, apparently, to be taken subsequently as the causes of our nature, but as a matter of fact our nature is the cause of our so thinking and judging. 1, 384

The man of unpleasant character, full of distrust, envious of the success of fellow-competitors and neighbours, violent and enraged at divergent opinions, shows that he belongs to an earlier grade of culture, and is, therefore, an atavism; for the way in which he behaves to people was right and suitable only for an age of club-law; he is an atavist. The man of a different character, rich in sympathy, winning friends everywhere, finding all that is growing and becoming amiable, rejoicing at the honours and successes of others and claiming no privilege of solely knowing the truth, but full of a modest distrust,—he is a forerunner who presses upwards towards a higher human culture. 1, 388

He who has not passed through different phases of conviction, but sticks to the faith in whose net he was first caught, is, under all circumstances, just on account of this unchangeableness, a representative of atavistic culture.... 1, 400

Opinions evolve out of passions; indolence of intellect allows those to congeal into convictions. 1, 404

He who has attained intellectual emancipation to any extent cannot, for a long time, regard himself otherwise than as a wanderer on the face of the earth—and not even as a traveller towards a final goal, for there is no such thing. 1, 405

If we make it clear to any one that, strictly, he can never speak of truth, but only of probability and of its degrees, we generally discover, from the undisguised joy of our pupil, how greatly men prefer the uncertainty of their intellectual horizon, and how in their heart of hearts they hate truth because of its definiteness. 2, 15

With all that enthusiasts say in favour of their gospel or their master they are defending themselves, however much they comport themselves as the judges and not the accused: because they are involuntarily reminded almost at every moment that they are exceptions and have to assert their legitimacy. 2, 18

The belief in truth begins with the doubt of all truths in which one has previously believed. 2, 20

Philosophic brains will ... be distinguished from others by their disbelief in the metaphysical significance of morality. 2, 29

You hold that sacrifice is the hallmark of moral action?—Just consider whether in every action that is done with deliberation, in the best as in the worst, there be not a sacrifice. 2, 30

It is more convenient to follow one's conscience than one's intelligence, for at every failure conscience finds an excuse and an encouragement in itself. That is why there are so many conscientious and so few intelligent people. 2, 33

All moralists are shy, because they know they are confounded with spies and traitors, so soon as their penchant is noticed. Besides, they are generally conscious of being impotent in action, for in the midst of work the motives of their activity almost withdraw their attention from the work. 2, 42

No one accuses without an underlying notion of punishment and revenge, even when he accuses his fate or himself. All complaint is accusation, all self-congratulation is praise. Whether we do one or the other, we always make some one responsible. 2, 44

We must know how to emerge cleaner from unclean conditions, and, if necessary, how to wash ourselves even with dirty water. 2, 44

The origin of morality may be traced to two ideas: "The community is of more value than the individual," and "The permanent interest is to be preferred to the temporary." The conclusion drawn is that the permanent interest of the community is unconditionally to be set above the temporary interest of the individual, especially his momentary well-being, but also his permanent interest and even the prolongation of his existence. 2, 46-47

We should not shrink from treading the road to a virtue, even when we see clearly that nothing but egotism, and accordingly utility, personal comfort, fear, considerations of health, reputation, or glory, are the impelling motives. These motives are styled ignoble and selfish. Very well, but if they stimulate us to some virtue—for example, self-denial, dutifulness, order, thrift, measure, and moderation—let us listen to them, whatever their epithets may be! 2, 48

The tendency of a talent towards moral subjects, characters, motives, towards the "beautiful soul" of the work of art, is often only a glass eye put on by the artist who lacks a beautiful soul. 2, 78

Art is above all and meant to embellish life, to make us ourselves endurable and if possible agreeable in the eyes of others. With this task in view, art moderates us and holds us in restraint, creates forms of intercourse, binds over the uneducated to laws of decency, cleanliness, politeness, well-timed speech and silence. Hence art must conceal or transfigure everything that is ugly—the painful, terrible, and disgusting elements which in spite of every effort will always break out afresh in accordance with the very origin of human nature. Art has to perform this duty especially in regard to the passions and spiritual agonies and anxieties, and to cause the significant factor to shine through unavoidable or unconquerable ugliness. To this great, super-great task the so-called art proper, that of works of art, is a mere accessory. A man who feels within himself a surplus of such powers of embellishment, concealment, and transfiguration will finally seek to unburden himself of this surplus in works of art. The same holds good, under special circumstances, of a whole nation. 2, 01-92

On great minds is bestowed the terrifying all-too-human of their natures, their blindnesses, deformities, and extravagances, so that their more powerful, easily all-too-powerful influence may be continually held within bounds through the distrust aroused by such qualities. 2, 100

Original minds are distinguished not by being the first to see a new thing, but by seeing the old, well-known thing, which is seen and overlooked by every one, as something new. The first discoverer is usually that quite ordinary and unintellectual visionary—chance. 2, 105

The obvious satisfaction of the individual with his own form excites imitation and gradually creates the form of the many—that is, fashion. 2, 107

Who of us could dare to call himself a "free spirit" if he could not render homage after his fashion, by taking on his own shoulders a portion of that burden of public dislike and abuse, to men to whom this name is attached as a reproach? 2, 108

Immediate self-observation is not enough, by a long way, to enable us to learn to know ourselves. We need history, for the past continues to flow through us in a hundred channels. We ourselves are, after all, nothing but our own sensation at every moment of this continued flow. 2, 117

To young and fresh barbarian nations ... Christianity is a poison. 2, 120

Faith, indeed, has up to the present not been able to move real mountains, although I do not know who assumed that it could. But it can put mountains where there was none. 2, 121

Among travellers we may distinguish five grades. The first and lowest grade is of those who travel and are seen—they become really travelled and are, as it were, blind. Next come those who really see the world. The third class experience the results of their seeing. The fourth weave their experience into their life and carry it with them henceforth. Lastly, there are some men of the highest strength who, as soon as they have returned home, must finally and necessarily work out in their lives and productions all the things seen that they have experienced and incorporated in themselves.—Like these five species of travellers, all mankind goes through the whole pilgrimage of life, the lowest as purely passive, the highest as those who act and live out their lives without keeping back any residue of inner experiences. 2, 125

To treat all men with equal good-humour, and to be kind without distinctions of persons, may arise as much from a profound contempt for mankind as from an in-grained love of humanity. 2, 127

Towards science women and self-seeking artists entertain a feeling that is composed of envy and sentimentality. 2, 134

The intellectual strength of a woman is best proved by the fact that she offers her own intellect as a sacrifice out of love for a man and his intellect, and that nevertheless in the new domain, which was previously foreign to her nature, a second intellect at once arises as an aftergrowth, to which the man's mind impels her. 2, 136

By women Nature shows how far she has hitherto achieved her task of fashioning humanity, by man she shows what she has had overcome, and what she still proposes to do for humanity. 2, 137

Whence arises the sudden passion of a man for a woman, a passion so deep, so vital? Least of all from sensuality only: but when a man finds weakness, need of help, and high spirits united in the same creature, he suffers a sort of overflowing of soul, and is touched and offended at the same moment. At this point arises the source of great love. 2, 140

Profundity of thought belongs to youth, clarity of thought to old age. 2, 140

The only remedy against Socialism that still lies in your power is to avoid provoking Socialism—in other words, to live in moderation and contentment, to prevent as far as possible all lavish display, and to aid the State as far as possible in its taxing of all superfluities and luxuries. 2, 145

Only a man of intellect should hold property: otherwise property is dangerous to the community. For the owner, not knowing how to make use of the leisure which his possessions might secure to him, will continue to strive after more property.... It excites envy in the poor and uncultured—who at bottom always envy culture and see no mask in the mask—and gradually paves the way for a social revolution. 2, 147-148

Only up to a certain point does possession make men feel freer and more independent; one step farther, and possession becomes lord, the possessor a slave. 2, 149

The governments of the great States have two instruments for keeping the people independent, in fear and obedience: a coarser, the army, and a more refined, the school. 2, 152

To call a thing good not a day longer than it appears to us good, and above all not a day earlier—that is the only way to keep joy pure. 2, 158

To honour and acknowledge even the bad, when it pleases one, and to have no conception of how one could be ashamed of being pleased thereat, is the mark of sovereignty in things great and small. 2, 158-159

When life has treated us in true robber fashion, and has taken away all that it could of honour, joys, connections, health, and property of every kind, we perhaps discover in the end, after the first shock, that we are richer than before. For now we know for the first time what is so peculiarly ours that no robber hand can touch it, and perhaps, after all the plunder and devastation, we come forward with the airs of a mighty real estate owner. 2, 162

You rank far below others when you try to establish the exception and they the rule. 2, 167

The most senile thought ever conceived about men lies in the famous saying, "The ego is always hateful," the most childish in the still more famous saying, "Love thy neighbour as thyself."—With the one knowledge of men has ceased, with the other it has not yet begun. 2, 172

You find your burden of life too heavy? Then you must increase the burden of your life. 2, 176

That the world is not the abstract essence of an eternal reasonableness is sufficiently proved by the fact that that bit of the world which we know—I mean our human reason—is none too reasonable. And if this is not eternally and wholly wise and reasonable, the rest of the world will not be so either. 2, 184

There exists a simulated contempt for all things that mankind actually holds most important, for all everyday matters. For instance, we say "we only eat to live"—an abominable lie, like that which speaks of the procreation of children as the real purpose of all sexual pleasure. Conversely, the reverence for "the most important things" is hardly ever quite genuine. 2, 185

The doctrine of free will is an invention of the ruling classes. 2, 190

If a God created the world, he created man to be his ape, as a perpetual source of amusement in the midst of his rather tedious eternities. 2, 193

The robber and the man of power who promises to protect a community from robbers are perhaps at bottom beings of the same mould, save that the latter attains his ends by other means than the former—that is to say, through regular imposts paid to him by the community, and no longer through forced contributions. 2, 200

The sting of conscience, like the gnawing of a dog at a stone, is mere foolishness. 2, 217

Rights may be traced to traditions, traditions to momentary agreements. 2, 217

Morality is primarily a means of preserving the community and saving it from destruction. Next it is a means of maintaining the community on a certain plane and in a certain degree of benevolence. Its motives are fear and hope, and these in a more coarse, rough, and powerful form, the more the propensity towards the perverse, one-sided, and personal still persists. 2, 221

Moral prohibitions, like those of the Decalogue, are only suited to ages when reason lies vanquished. 2, 223

It is difficult to explain why pity is so highly prized, just as we need to explain why the unselfish man, who is originally despised or feared as being artful, is praised.

2. 224

The sum-total of our conscience is all that has regularly been demanded of us, without reason, in the days of our childhood, by people whom we respected or feared. 2, 224

Every word is a preconceived judgment. 2, 225

The fatalism of the Turk has this fundamental defect, that it contrasts man and fate as two distinct things. Man, says this doctrine, may struggle against fate and try to baffle it, but in the end fate will always gain the victory. Hence the most rational course is to resign oneself or to live as one pleases. As a matter of fact, every man is himself a piece of fate. When he thinks that he is struggling against fate in this way, fate is accomplishing its ends even in that struggle. The combat is a fantasy, but so is the resignation in fate—all these fantasies are included in fate.—The fear felt by most people of the doctrine that denies the freedom of the will is a fear of the fatalism of the Turk. They imagine that man will become weakly resigned and will stand before the future with folded hands, because he cannot alter anything of the future. Or that he will give a free rein to his caprices, because the predestined cannot be made worse by that course. The follies of men are as much a piece of fate as are his wise actions, and even that fear of belief in fate is a fatality. You yourself, you poor timid creature, are that indomitable Moira, which rules even the Gods; whatever may happen, you are a curse or a blessing, and in any case the fetters wherein the strongest lies bound: in you the whole future of the human world is predestined, and it is no use for you to be frightened of yourself. 2, 228-229

In the first era of the higher humanity courage is accounted the most noble virtue, in the next justice, in the third temperance, in the fourth wisdom. 2, 230

Superficial, inexact observation sees contrasts everywhere in nature (for instance, "hot and cold"), where there are no contrasts, only differences of degree. 2, 231

On two hypotheses alone is there any sense in prayer, that not quite extinct custom of olden times. It would have to be possible either to fix or alter the will of the godhead, and the devotee would have to know best himself what he needs and should really desire. Both hypotheses, axiomatic and traditional in all other religions, are denied by Christianity. 2, 235-233

Distrust is the touchstone for the gold of certainty. 2, 266

Wrath and punishment are our inheritance from the animals. Man does not become of age until he has restored to the animals this gift of the cradle.—Herein lies buried one of the mightiest ideas that men can have, the idea of a progress of all progresses.—Let us go forward together a few millenniums, my friends! There is still reserved for mankind a great deal of joy, the very scent of which has not yet been wafted to the men of our day! Indeed, we may promise ourselves this joy, nay summon and conjure it up as a necessary thing, so long as the development of human reason does not stand still. Some day we shall no longer be reconciled to the logical sin that lurks in all wrath and punishment, whether exercised by the individual or by society—some day, when head and heart have learnt to live as near together as they now are far apart. That they no longer stand so far apart as they did originally is fairly palpable from a glance at the whole course of humanity. The individual who can review a life of introspective work will become conscious of the rapprochement arrived at, with a proud delight at the distance he has bridged, in order that he may thereupon venture upon more ample hopes. 2, 284-285

Natural death is independent of all reason and is really an irrational death, in which the pitiable substance of the shell determines how long the kernel is to exist.... 2, 286

The more fully and thoroughly we live, the more ready we are to sacrifice life for a single pleasurable emotion. 2, 288

All intellectual movements whereby the great may hope to rob and the small to save, are sure to prosper.

2, 311-312

The desire for victory and pre-eminence is an ineradicable trait of human nature, older and more primitive than any respect of or joy in equality. 2, 312

If all alms were given only out of compassion, the whole tribe of beggars would long since have died of starvation.... The greatest of almsgivers is cowardice. 2, 317

The exertion of power is laborious and demands courage. That is why so many do not assert their most valid rights, because their rights are a kind of power, and they are too lazy or too cowardly to exercise them. Indulgence and patience are the names given to the virtues that cloak these faults. 2, 319-320

"Stupid as a man," say the women; "Cowardly as a woman," say the men. Stupidity in a woman is unfeminine. 2, 328

All political work, even with great statesmen, is an improvisation that trusts to luck. 2, 332

The so-called armed peace that prevails at present in all countries is a sign of a bellicose disposition, of a disposition that trusts neither itself nor its neighbour, and, partly from hate, partly from fear, refuses to lay down its weapons. Better to perish than to hate and fear, and twice as far better to perish than to make oneself hated and feared—this must some day become the supreme maxim of every political community!... 2, 236

In order that property may henceforth inspire more confidence and become more moral, we should keep open all the paths of work for small fortunes, but should prevent the effortless and sudden acquisition of wealth. Accordingly, we should take all the branches of transport and trade which favour the accumulation of large fortunes—especially, therefore, the money market—out of the hands of private persons or private companies, and look upon those who own too much, just as upon those who own nothing, as types fraught with danger to the community. 2, 340

If we try to determine the value of labour by the amount of time, industry, good or bad will, constraint, inventiveness or laziness, honesty or make-believe bestowed upon it, the valuation can never be a just one. For the whole personality would have to be thrown into the scale, and this is impossible. 2, 340

The exploitation of the worker was, as we now understand, a piece of folly, a robbery at the expense of the future, a jeopardisation of society. We almost have the war now, and in any case the expense of maintaining peace, of concluding treaties and winning confidence, will henceforth be very great, because the folly of the exploiters was very great and long-lasting. 2, 341

The masses are as far as possible removed from Socialism as a doctrine of altering the acquisition of property. If once they get the steering-wheel into their hands, through great majorities in their Parliaments, they will attack with progressive taxation the whole dominant system of capitalists, merchants, and financiers, and will in fact slowly create a middle class which may forget Socialism like a disease that has been overcome. 2, 343

The Two Principles of the New Life.—First Principle: to arrange one's life on the most secure and tangible basis, not as hitherto upon the most distant, undetermined, and cloudy foundation. Second Principle: to establish the rank of the nearest and nearer things, and of the more and less secure, before one arranges one's life and directs it to a final end. 2, 351

Through the certain prospect of death a precious, fragrant drop of frivolity might be mixed with every day life—and now, you singular druggist-souls, you have made of death a drop of poison, unpleasant to taste, which makes the whole of life hideous. 2, 355

We speak of Nature, and, in doing so, forget ourselves: we ourselves are Nature, quand même. 2, 356-357

We should not let ourselves be burnt for our opinions—we are not so certain of them as all that. But we might let ourselves be burnt for the right of possessing and changing our opinions. 2, 358

Man has been bound with many chains, in order that he may forget to comport himself like an animal. And indeed he has become more gentle, more intellectual, more joyous, more meditative than any animal. But now he still suffers from having carried his chains so long, from having been so long without pure air and free movement—these chains, however, are, as I repeat again and again, the ponderous and significant errors of moral, religious, and metaphysical ideas. Only when the disease of chains is overcome is the first great goal reached—the separation of man from the brute. 2,362-363

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