Human, All Too Human I: A Book For Free Spirits

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He had yet to learn to temper his new enthusiasm for the natural sciences, to figure out how to revisit the perspectives relating to the arts and culture he had known so well without becoming captive once again to them, to supplement both with yet others and to develop the ability to make larger interpretive sense of our humanity in the light of this multiplicity of perspectives upon it.

But he was on his way. This assessment of the place of Human, All Too Human in the context of Nietzsche's larger intellectual development has the virtues of acknowledging the great differences between it and its companion volumes in the 'free spirit' series and his earlier writings, and also of coherently relating his later writings to both.

Many readers - and interpreters - make the mistake of regarding these 'free spirit' works as a kind of interlude between The Birth of Tragedy and Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and of reading them - if at all- from the perspective of his later writings, in relation to which they are generally found to pale by comparison, both rhetorically and philosophically. For the continuities between them are strong, even if Nietzsche's arsenal of perspectives grows, his philosophical sophistication increases, his rhetoric sharpens and heats up, and his intellectual pendulum swings back from its scientifically-oriented extreme point in the direction of his artistic and cultural concerns and sensibility moving subsequently in conSiderably shorter arcs in the general vicinity of the centre of the spectrum they mark out.

This even applies to the organization of Human, All Too Human and the two later works that are not devoted to specific topics or figures, Beyond Good and Evil and Twilight of the Idols. Interestingly enough, all three have the same number of major parts - nine - plus an epilogue.

And there is a striking similarity among the headings as well. Much more and much better so rings our truth! If science were not linked with the pleasure of knowledge, the utility of the thing known, what should we care for science? If a little faith, love, and hope did not lead our souls to knowledge, what would attract us to science? And if in science the ego means nothing, still the inventive, happy ego, every upright and industrious ego, means a great deal in the republic of the men of science. The homage of those who pay homage, the joy of those whom we wish well or honour, in some cases glory and a fair share of immortality, is the personal reward for every suppression of personality : to say nothing here of meaner views and rewards, although it is just on this account that the majority have sworn and always continue to swear fidelity to the laws of the republic and of science.

If we had not remained in some degree unscientific, what would science matter to us? We are content with less. But should one of them cry out to us : " Be content and show yourselves con- tented! But you, if your faith makes you happy, show yourselves to be happy. Your faces have always done more harm to your faith than our reasons! If that glad message of your Bible were written in your faces, you would not need to de- mand belief in the authority of that book in such stiff-necked fashion.

Your words, your actions should continually make the Bible superfluous in fact, through you a new Bible should continually come into being. As it is, your apologia for Christianity is rooted in your unchristianity, and with your defence you write your own condemna- tion. If you, however, should wish to emerge from your dissatisfaction with Christianity, you should ponder over the experience of two thousand years, which, clothed in the modest form of a question, may be voiced as follows : " If Christ really in- tended to redeem the world, may he not be said to have failed?

Nor should this be so done as if the poet, like an imaginative political economist, had to anticipate a more favourable national and social state of things and picture their realisation. Rather will he, just as the earlier poets portrayed the images of the Gods, portray the fair images of men. He will divine those cases where, in the midst of our modern world and reality which will not be shirked or repudiated in the usual poetic fashion , a great, noble soul is still possible, where it may be embodied in harmonious, equable conditions, where it may become perma- nent, visible, and representative of a type, and so, by the stimulus to imitation and envy, help to create the future.

The poems of such a poet would be distinguished by appearing secluded and protected from the heated atmosphere of the passions. The irremediable failure, the shattering of all the strings of the human instrument, the scornful laughter and gnashing of teeth, and all tragedy and comedy in the usual old sense, would appear by the side of this new art as mere archaic lumber, a blurring of the outlines of the world-picture. Many roads to this poetry of the future start from Goethe, but the quest needs good pathfinders and above all a far greater strength than is possessed by modern poets, who unscrupulously represent the half-animal and the immaturity and intemperance that are mistaken by them for power and naturalness.

But it can be a tragic and also a comic finale. If the beautiful is to be identified with that which gives pleasure and thus sang the Muses once the useful is often the necessary circuitous path to the beautiful, and has a perfect right to spurn the short-sighted censure of men who live for the moment, who will not wait, and who think "that they can reach all good things without ever taking a circuitous path. In any case he has but a limited measure of strength, and how could the proportion of strength that he spends on himself be of any benefit to his work or vice versa?

If we have sat- isfied the best people of our time with our art, it is a sign that we shall not satisfy the best people of the succeeding period. We have indeed " lived for all time," and the applause of the best people ensures our fame. If we are of one substance with a book or a work of art, we think in our heart of hearts that it must be excellent, and are offended if others find it ugly, over-spiced, or pretentious. That speech is not given to us to communicate our emotions may be seen from the fact that all simple men are ashamed to seek for words to express their deeperfeelings.

After all, among poets, to whom God generally denies this shame, the more noble are more mono- syllabic in the language of emotion, and evince a certain constraint : whereas the real poets of emotion are for the most part shameless in practical life. He that has not for a long time been completely weaned from an art, and is still always at home in it, has no idea how small a privation it is to live without that art. A work that is meant to give an impression of health should be produced with three-quarters, at the most, of the strength of its creator.

Human All Too Human A Book for Free Spirits PDF Nietzsche

If he has gone to his farthest limit, the work excites the observer and disconcerts him by its tension. All good things have some- : thing lazy about them and lie like cows in the meadow. As refined fare serves a hungry man as well as and no better than coarser food, the more pretentious artist will not dream of inviting the hungry man to his meal. The pirate-genius in art, who even knows how to deceive subtle minds, arises when some one unscrupulously and from youth up- wards regards all good things, that are not protected by law, as the property of a particular person, as his legitimate spoil.

Now all the good things of past ages and masters lie free around us, hedged about and protected by the reverential awe of the few who know them. To these few our robber-genius, by the force of his impudence, bids defiance and ac- cumulates for himself a wealth that once more calls forth homage and awe. In the gar- dens of modern poetry it will clearly be observed that the sewers of great towns are too near.

With the fragrance of flowers is mingled something that betrays abomination and putrescence. With pain I ask : " Must you poets always request wit and dirt to stand godfather, when an innocent and beautiful sensation has to be christened by you? Are you obliged to dress your noble goddess in a hood of devilry and caricature? But whence this necessity, this obligation? No one has ever explained why the Greek writers, having at com- mand such an unparalleled wealth and power of language, made so sparing a use of their resources that every post-classical Greek book appears by comparison crude, over-coloured, and extravagant.

It is said that towards the North Polar ice and in the hottest countries salt is becoming less and less used, whereas on the other hand the dwellers on the plains and by the coast in the more temper- ate zones use salt in great abundance. Is it possible that the Greeks from a twofold reason because their intellect was colder and clearer but their fun- damental passionate nature far more tropical than ours did not need salt and spice to the same extent that we do?

In a book for free spirits one cannot avoid mention of Laurence Sterne, the man whom Goethe honoured as the freest spirit of his century. May he be satisfied with the honour of being called the freest writer of all times, in com- parison with whom all others appear stiff, square- toed, intolerant, and downright boorish!

In his case we should not speak of the clear and rounded but of "the endless melody" if by this phrase we arrive at a name for an artistic style in which the definite form is continually broken, thrust aside and trans- ferred to the realm of the indefinite, so that it signifies one and the other at the same time. We may give up for lost the reader who always wants to know exactly what Sterne thinks about a matter, and whether he be making a serious or a smiling face for he can do both with one wrinkling of his features ; he can be and even wishes to be right and wrong at the same moment, to interweave profundity and farce.

His digressions are at once continuations and further developments of the story, his maxims contain a satire on all that is sententious, his dislike of seriousness is bound up with a disposition to take no matter merely externally and on the surface. So in the proper reader he arouses a feeling of uncertainty whether he be walking, lying, or standing, a feeling most closely akin to that of floating in the air. He, the most versatile of writers, communicates some- thing of this versatility to his reader.

Yes, Sterne unexpectedly changes the parts, and is often as much reader as author, his book being like a pi-ay within a play, a theatre audience before another theatre audi- ence. We must surrender at discretion to the mood of Sterne, although we can always expect it to be gracious.

It is strangely instructive to see how so great a writer as Diderot has affected this double entendre of Sterne's to be equally ambiguous throughout is just the Sternian super-humour. Did Diderot imitate, admire, ridicule, or parody Sterne in hisfacgues le Fatalistel One cannot be exactly certain, and this uncertainty was perhaps intended by the author. For humour and especially for this humorous attitude towards humour itself the French are too serious.

Is it necessary to add that of all great authors Sterne is the worst model, in fact the inimitable author, and that even Diderot had to pay for his daring? What the worthy Frenchmen and before them some Greeks and Romans aimed at and attained in prose is the very opposite of what Sterne aims at and attains.

He raises himself as a masterly exception above all that artists in writing demand of them- selves propriety, reserve, character, steadfastness of purpose, comprehensiveness, perspicuity, good deportment in gait and feature. Unfortunately Sterne the man seems to have been only too closely, related to Sterne the writer. His squirrel-soul' sprang with insatiable unrest from branch to branch ; he knew what lies between sublimity and rascality ; he had sat on every seat, always with un- abashed watery eyes and mobile play of feature. He was if language does not revolt from such a combination of a hard-hearted kindness, and in the midst of the joys of a grotesque and even cor- rupt imagination he showed the bashful grace of innocence.

Such a carnal and spiritual hermaphro- ditism, such untrammelled wit penetrating into every vein and muscle, was perhaps never possessed by any other man. Only reality, though by a long way not every reality but a choice reality. Side by side with the genuine species of art, those of great repose and great movement, there are degenerate species weary, blasd art and excited art.

Both would have their weakness taken for strength and wish to be confounded with the genuine species. The typical poets and artists of our age like to compose their pictures upon a background of shim- mering red, green, grey, and gold, on the back- ground of nervous sensuality a condition well understood by the children of this century. The drawback comes when we do not look at these pic- tures with the eyes of our century. At the beginnings of art the very reverse conditions sometimes appear.

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History and experience tell us that the significant grotesque- ness that mysteriously excites the imagination and carries one beyond everyday reality, is older and grows more luxuriantly than the beautiful and re- verence for the beautiful in art : and that it begins to flourish exceedingly when the sense for beauty is on the wane. For the vast majority of mankind this grotesque seems to be a higher need than the beautiful, presumably because it contains a coarser narcotic.

If we consider the primary germs of the artistic sense, and ask ourselves what are the various kinds of joy produced by the firstlings of art as, for example, among savage tribes we find first of all the joy of understanding what another means. Art in this case is a sort of conundrum, which causes its solver pleasure in his own quick and keen perceptions.

Then the roughest works of art remind us of the pleasant things we have actually experienced, and so give joy as, for example, when the artist alludes to a chase, a victory, a wedding. Here the enjoyment lies in the ex- citement itself, in the victory over tedium. The memory, too, of unpleasant things, so far as they have been overcome or make us appear interesting to the listener as subjects for art as when the singer describes the mishaps of a daring seaman , can inspire great joy, the credit for which is given to art, A more subtle variety is the joy that arises at the sight of all that is regular and sym- metrical in lines, points, and rhythms.


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For by a certain analogy is awakened the feeling for all that is orderly and regular in life, which one has to thank alone for all well-being. So in the cult of symmetry we unconsciously do homage to rule and proportion as the source of our previous happiness, and the joy in this case is a kind of hymn of thanksgiving. Only when a certain satiety of the last-mentioned joy arises does a more subtle feeling step in, that enjoyment might even lie in a violation of the symmetrical and regular.

This feeling, for example, impels us to seek reason in apparent unreason, and the sort of aesthetic riddle-guessing that results is in a way the higher species of the first-named artistic joy. He who pursues this speculation still further will know what kind of hypotheses for the ex- planation of aesthetic phenomena are hereby funda- mentally rejected. It is a disadvantage for good thoughts when they follow too closely on one another, for they hide the view from each other.

That is why great artists and writers have made an abundant use of the mediocre. Artists of all periods have made the discovery that in roughness lies a certain strength, and that not every one can be rough who wants to be : also that many varieties of weakness have a powerful effect on the emotions. From this source are derived many artistic substi- tutes, which not even the greatest and most con- scientious artists can abstain from using.

Many a man fails to become a thinker for the sole reason that his memory is too good. Great artists fancy that they have taken full pos- session of a soul.

In reality, and often to their painful disappointment, that soul has only been made more capacious and insatiable, so that a dozen greater artists could plunge into its depths without filling it up. The anxiety lest people may not believe that their figures are alive can mis- lead many artists of declining taste to portray these figures so that they appear as if mad. He who follows a philosophy or a genre of art to the end of its career and beyond, understands from inner ex- perience why the masters and disciples who come after have so often turned, with a depreciatory ges- ture, into a new groove.

The circle must be de- scribed but the individual, even the greatest, sits firm on his point of the circumference, with an in- exorable look of obstinacy, as if the circle ought never to be completed. Since every art becomes more and more adapted to the expression of spiritual states, of the more lively, delicate, energetic, and passionate states, the later masters, spoilt by these means of expres- sion, do not feel at their ease in the presence of the old-time works of art.

They feel as if the ancients had merely been lacking in the "means of making their souls speak clearly, also perhaps in some neces- sary technical preliminaries. They think that they must render some assistance in this quarter, for they believe in the similarity or even unity of all souls. Knowing this, are we to deny those that come after the right to animate the older works with their soul? No, for these works can only survive through our giving them our soul, and our blood alone enables them to speak to us.

The real "historic" discourse would talk ghostly speech to ghosts. We honour the great artists less by that barren timidity that allows every word, every note to remain intact than by energetic endeavours to aid them continually to a new life. True, if Beethoven were suddenly to come to life and hear one of his works performed with that modern animation and nervous refinement that bring glory to our masters of execution, he would probably be silent for a long while, uncertain whether he should raise his hand to curse or to bless, but perhaps say at last : " Well, well! That is neither I nor not-I, but a third thing it seems to me, too, something right, if not just the right thing.

But you must know your- selves what to do, as in any case it is you who have to listen. The reader, however, who is a novice in this field and has never considered the case in point, sees something embryonic in all brief dicta, not without a reproachful hint to the author, request- ing him not to serve up such raw and ill-prepared food. Do you think it is piece-work because it is and must be offered you in pieces?

The worst readers of aphorisms are the friends of the author, if they make a point of referring the general to the particular instance to which the aphorism owes its origin. This namby-pamby attitude brings all the author's trouble to naught, and instead of a philosophic lesson and a philosophic frame of mind, they deservedly gain nothing but the satisfaction of a vulgar curi- osity. The reader offers a two- fold insult to the author by praising his second book at the expense of his first or vice versa and by ex- pecting the author to be grateful to him on that account.

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Human, All Too Human: A Book For Free Spirits

We see that the bow must snap, and that the so-called " loose " composition, with the wonderful means of expression smothered and concealed in this particular case the florid style of Asianism , was once necessary arid almost beneficial. The knowledge of this fact spells humilia- tion. But the enthusiast wears his hump with pride and pleasure, and you have the consolation of feeling that you have increased the world's happiness. The real fanatics of an artistic school are perhaps those utterly in- artistic natures that are not even grounded in the elements of artistic study and creation, but are im- pressed with the strongest of all the elementary influences of an art For them there is no aesthetic conscience hence nothing to hold them back from fanaticism.

Jl lucidly termed " endless melody," can be understood by going into the sea, gradually losing one's firm tread on the bottom, and finally surrendering uncon- ditionally to the fluid element. One has to swim. In the previous, older music one was forced, with delicate or stately or impassioned movement, to dance. The measure necessary for dancing, the ob- servance of a distinct balance of time and force in the soul of the hearer, imposed a continual self- control. Through the counteraction of the cooler draught of air which came from this caution and the warmer breath of musical enthusiasm, that music exercised its spell.

Richard Wagner aimed at a different excitation of the soul, allied, as above said, to swimming and floating. This is perhaps the most essential of his innovations. His famous method, originating from this aim and adapted to it the " endless melody " strives to break and sometimes even to despise all mathematical equilibrium of time and force. He is only too rich in the invention of such effects, which sound to the old school like rhythmic paradoxes and blasphemies.

He dreads petrifaction, crystallisation, the development of music into the architectural. He accordingly sets up a three-time rhythm in opposition to the double- time, not infrequently introduces five-time and seven- time, immediately repeats a plirase, but with a pro- lation, so that its time is again doubled and trebled. From an easy-going imitation of such art may arise a great danger to music, for by the side of the super- abundance of rhythmic emotion demoralisation and decadence lurk in ambush. The Muse of the poet who is not in love with reality will not be reality, and will bear him children with hollow eyes and all too tender bones.

In art the end does not justify the means, but holy means can justify the end. The worst readers are those who act like plundering soldiers. They take out some things that they might use, cover the rest with filth and confusion, and blaspheme about the whole. Good writers have two things in common: they prefer being understood to being admired, and they do not write for the critical and over-shrewd reader.

They seek auxiliary powers, advocates, hiding-places such is the case with the poet who calls in philosophy, the musician who calls in th drama, and the thinker who calls inrhetoricto his aid. When his book opens its mouth, the author must shut his. All poets and men of letters who are in love with the superlative want to do more than they can. The deep thinker reckons on readers who feel with him the happiness that lies in deep thinking.

Hence a book that looks cold and sober, if seen in the right light, may seem bathed in the sunshine of spiritual cheerfulness and become a genuine soul-comforter. The slow- witted thinker generally allies himself with loqua- city and ceremoniousness. By the former he thinks he is gaining mobility and fluency, by the latter he gives his peculiarity the appearance of being a result of free will and artistic purpose, with a view to dignity, which needs slow movement.

For, after all, his object is to make himself understood and to carry the day by force, and he is indifferent whether, as shep- herd, he honestly guides to himself the hearts of his fellow-men, or, as robber, he captures them by sur- prise.

Human, All Too Human: A Book For Free Spirits, Part One And Part Two

This is true of the plastic arts as of music : where the feeling of insufficient dialectic or a de- ficiency in expression or narration, together with an urgent, over-powerful impulse to form, gives birth to that species of style known as " baroque. The baroque style always arises at the time of decay of a great art, when the demands of art in classical expression have become too great.

It is a natural phenomenon which will be observed with melancholy for it is a forerunner of the night but at the same time with admiration for its peculiar compensatory arts of ex- pression and narration. Such luxuries hang long on the tree like forbidden fruit. Just now, when music is passing into this last phase, we may learn to know the phenomenon of the baroque style in peculiar splendour, and, by comparison, find much that is instructive for earlier ages. For from Greek times onward there has often been a baroque style, in poetry, oratory, prose writing, sculpture, and, as is well known, in architecture.

This style, though wanting in the highest nobility, the nobility of an innocent, unconscious, triumphant perfection, has nevertheless given pleasure to many of the best and most serious minds of their time. Hence, as afore- said, it is presumptuous to depreciate it without re- serve, however happy we may feel because our taste for it has not made us insensible to the purer and greater style. Against a book, however, we let ourselves go, however restrained we may be in our relations with men.

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Individual fine passages, an exciting general tenor, a moving and absorbing finale so much of a work of art is ac- cessible even to most laymen. In an art period when it is desired to win over the great majority of the laymen to the side of the artists and to make a party perhaps for the very preservation of art, the creative artist will do well to offer nothing more than the above.

Then he will not be a squanderer of his strength, in spheres where no one is grateful to him. For to perform the remaining functions, the imi- tation of Nature in her organic development and growth, would in that case be like sowing seeds in water. Every later master who leads the taste of art-lovers into his channel unconsciously gives rise to a selection and revaluation of the older masters and their works.

Whatever in them is conformable and akin to him, and anticipates and foreshadows him, appears henceforth as the only important ele- ment in them and their works a fruit in which a great error usually lies hidden like a worm. Criticism, one-sided and unjust as well as intelligent criticism, gives so much pleasure to him who exercises it that the world is indebted to every work and every action that in- spires much criticism and many critics. For criti- cism draws after it a glittering train of joyousness, wit, self-admiration, pride, instruction, designs of im- provement.

The God of joy created the bad and the mediocre for the same reason that he created the good. When an artist wants to be more than an artist for example, the moral awakener of his people he at last falls in love, as a punishment, with a monster of moral substance. The Muse laughs, for, though a kind-hearted God- dess, she can also be malignant from jealousy. Milton and Klopstock are cases in point. 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.

It may result, though rarely, that his eye finally becomes living Nature, if indeed it be Nature with a somewhat troubled look. But the ordinary result is that the whole world thinks it sees Nature where there is only cold glass. Writing should always indicate a victory, indeed a conquest of oneself which must be communicated to others for their behoof. There are, however, dyspeptic authors who only write when they cannot digest something, or when something has remained stuck in their teeth.

Through their anger they try un- consciously to disgust the reader too, and to exercise violence upon him that is, they desire victory, but victory over others. Every good book tastes bitter when it first comes out, for it has the defect of newness. Moreover, it suffers damage from its living author, if he is well known and much talked about.

For all the world is accustomed to confuse the author with his work. Many hours must pass, many a spider must have woven its web about the book. A book is made better by good readers and clearer by good opponents. Artists well understand the idea of using extrava- gance as an artistic means in order to convey an impression of wealth. This is one of those innocent wiles of soul-seduction that the artist must know, for in his world, which has only appearance in view, the means to appearance need not necessarily be genuine.

Genius, by virtue of its more ample drapery, knows better than talent how to hide its barrel-organ. Yet after all it too can only play its seven old pieces over and over again. It is now a matter of custom and almost of duty for the author's name to appear on the book, and this is a main cause of the fact that books have so little influence. If they are good, they are worth more than the personalities of their authors, of which they are the quintessences.

It is the ambition of the intellect no longer to appear individual. We make the most cutting criticism of a man or a book when we indicate his or its ideal. Its re- putation accordingly rests on a narrow basis and must be built up by degrees. The mediocre and bad book is mediocre and bad because it seeks to please, and does please, a great number. The danger of the new music lies in the fact that it puts the cup of rapture and exaltation to the lips so invitingly, and with such a show of moral ecstasy, that even the noble and temperate man always drinks a drop too much.

This minimum of intemperance, constantlyrepeated, can in the end bring about a deeper convulsion and destruction of mental health than any coarse excess could do. A book full of intellect communicates something thereof even to its opponents. To criticise a book means, for the young, not to let oneself be touched by a single productive thought therefrom, and to protect one's skin with hands and feet The youngster lives in opposition to all novelty that he cannot love in the lump, in a position of self- defence, and in this connection he commits, as often as he can, a superfluous sin.

The greatest paradox in the history of poetic art lies in this : that in all that constitutes the greatness o the old poets a man may be a barbarian, faulty and deformed from top to toe, and still remain the greatest of poets. This is the case with Shakespeare, who, as com- pared with Sophocles, is like a mine of immeasur- able wealth in gold, lead, and rubble, whereas Sophocles is not merely gold, but gold in its noblest form, one that almost makes us forget the money- value of the metal.

But quantity in its highest in- tensity has the same effect as quality. That is a good thing for Shakespeare. The Poet can choose whether to raise emotion from one grade to another, and so finally to exalt it to a great height or to try a surprise attack, and from the start to pull the bell-rope with might and main. Both processes have their danger in the first case his hearer may run away from him through boredom, in the second through terror.

Insects sting, not from malice, but because they too want to live. It is the same with our critics they desire our blood, not our pain. The inexperienced, when an aphorism at once illuminates their minds with its naked truth, always think that it is old and well known. They look askance at the author, as if he had wanted to steal the common property of all, whereas they enjoy highly spiced half-truths, and give the author to understand as much. He knows how to appreciate the hint, and easily guesses there- by where he has succeeded and failed.

Success is not always the accompaniment only of victory, but also of the desire for victory. The sensible author writes for no other posterity than his own that is, for his age so as to be able even then to take pleasure in himself. A good aphorism is too hard for the tooth of time, and is not worn away by all the centuries, although it serves as food for every epoch.

Hence it is the greatest paradox in literature, the imperishable in the midst of change, the nourishment which always remains highly valued, as salt does, and never becomes stupid like salt. The people may have something of what can be called art-need, but it is small, and can be cheaply satis- fied. On the whole, the remnant of art it must be honestly confessed suffices for this need. Let us consider, for example, the kind of melodies and songs in which the most vigorous, unspoiled, and true-hearted classes of the population find genuine delight; let us live among shepherds, cowherds, peasants, huntsmen, soldiers, and sailors, and give ourselves the answer.

He who speaks of deeper needs and unsatisfied yearnings for art among the people, as it is, is a crank or an im- postor. Be honest! Only in exceptional men is there now an art-need in the highest sense because art is once more on the down-grade, and human powers and hopes are for the time being directed to other matters. Apart from this, outside the populace, there exists indeed, in the higher and highest strata of society, a broader and more comprehensive art- need, but of the second order.

Here there is a sort of artistic commune, which possibly means to be sincere. But let us look at the elements! Art is to drive away hours and moments of discomfort, boredom,, half-bad conscience, and, if possible, transform the faults of their lives and characters into faults of world-destiny.

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Very different were the Greeks, who realised in their art the outflow and overflow of their own sense of well-being and health, and loved to see their perfection once more from a standpoint outside themselves. They were led to art by delight in themselves ; our contemporaries by disgust of themselves. The real theatrical talent of the Germans was Kotzebue.

He and his Germans, those of higher as well as those of middle-class society, were necessarily associated, and his contemporaries should have said of him in all seriousness, " in him we live and move and have our being. The result is that much of the Germanism of that age, sometimes far off from the great towns, still survives.

Good-natured ; incon- tinent in small pleasures ; always ready for tears ; with the desire, in the theatre at any rate, to be able to get rid of their innate sobriety and strict attention to duty and exercise; a smiling, nay, a laughing indulgence ; confusing goodness and sym- 86 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN. The second dramatic talent was Schiller. He discovered a class of hearers which had hitherto never been taken into consideration : among the callow German youth of both sexes. His poetry responded to their higher, nobler, more violent if more confused emotions, their delight in the jingle of moral words a delight that begins to disappear when we reach the thirties.

Thus he won for him- self, by virtue of the passionateness and partisanship of the young, a success which gradually reacted with advantage upon those of riper years. Oehler wrote an entire book, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Deutsche Zukunft , dealing with Nietzsche and his connection to nationalism specifically National Socialism and anti-Semitism, using quotes from Human, All Too Human , though out of context. It wasn't until much of Walter Kaufmann's work in the s through the s that Nietzsche was able to shed this connection with nationalism and anti-Semitism. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

April first part Ernst Schmeitzner [2] English translation [1]. Library of Congress Online Catalog. Library of Congress. Retrieved 5 July Nietzsche Chronicle. Dartmouth College. Chicago, U. Human, All Too Human. Penguin Classics. Marion Faber. Penguin Books. Oxford: Oxford University Press , HathiTrust Digital Library. The Portable Nietzsche. Walter A.

New York: Viking Press, Kaufmann, Walter A. Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist 4th ed. Nietzsche, Friedrich W. Translated by R. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Human All-Too-Human. Friedrich Nietzsche.

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