LUDWIG KLAGES • COSMOGONIC REFLECTIONS

NEW  The Biocentric Metaphysics of Ludwig Klages | Introduction to Cosmogonic Reflections | Aphorisms 1-100 | Aphorisms 101-200 | Aphorisms 201-300 | Aphorisms 301-400 | Aphorisms 401-515 | A Letter On Ethics and Imagination and the Images | The Problem of Socrates and Images and their Messages | Reflections on "Psychoanalysis" | Man and Earth | Soul and Spirit | Selected Poetry | Consciousness and Life | Rosenberg contra Klages | Webmaster: Kevin Alfred Strom | Kevin Alfred Strom Historical Archive

Introductory Note

by Joe Pryce

THESE APHORISMS, essays, and recollections in prose are numbered seriatim. The idea was to construct a sort of voelkisch vade-mecum out of Klages's works that might resemble the Heraclitean "Fragments" in its contours as well as in its "darkness."

I may be mistaken, but I believe that aphorisms -- especially pregnant and profound aphorisms -- might be the best introduction to a world of dazzling, and, yes, difficult, philosophy. Thus this first release of my translations. More are in progress.

Klages's most controversial texts (the monographs on Stefan George and Alfred Schuler being the most important in this regard) have been excluded from the Collected Works, a fate that has also befallen the posthumous editions of Celine, Philip Larkin, and Gottlob Frege; the relevant portion of the "Einleitung" [over 100 pages!] to the Schuler-book, in fact, has been called the most incisive criticism of "those who must not be criticized" ever penned.

"All Eros is Eros of distance (Eros der Ferne)." 

Without Klages, nulla salus est for The West. I'm sure of this.

 -- J. C. C., New York City, 14th May 2001.

Translated by Joe Pryce from the original sources. For reference, notes refer to the more easily obtainable texts:

AC=Klages, L. Zur Ausdruckslehre und Charakterkunde. Heidelberg. 1926. 

AG=Klages, L. Ausdrucksbewegung und Gestaltungskraft. Munich. 1968.

LK GL=Schroeder, H. E. Ludwig Klages Die Geschichte Seines Lebens. Bonn. 1966-1992. 

PEN=Klages, L. Die psychologischen Errungenschaften Nietzsches. Leipzig. 1926

RR=Klages, L. Rhythmen und Runen. Leipzig. 1944. 

SW=Klages, L. Sämtliche Werke. Bonn. 1965-92.

NEW  The Biocentric Metaphysics of Ludwig Klages | Introduction to Cosmogonic Reflections | Aphorisms 1-100 | Aphorisms 101-200 | Aphorisms 201-300 | Aphorisms 301-400 | Aphorisms 401-515 | A Letter On Ethics and Imagination and the Images | The Problem of Socrates and Images and their Messages | Reflections on "Psychoanalysis" | Man and Earth | Soul and Spirit | Selected Poetry | Consciousness and Life | Rosenberg contra Klages | Webmaster: Kevin Alfred Strom | Kevin Alfred Strom Historical Archive

Translation by Joe Pryce ©2001, all rights reserved. HTML ©2001 Kevin Alfred Strom. Webspace pro

LUDWIG KLAGES • COSMOGONIC REFLECTIONS

NEW  The Biocentric Metaphysics of Ludwig Klages | Introduction to Cosmogonic Reflections | Aphorisms 1-100 | Aphorisms 101-200 | Aphorisms 201-300 | Aphorisms 301-400 | Aphorisms 401-515 | A Letter On Ethics and Imagination and the Images | The Problem of Socrates and Images and their Messages | Reflections on "Psychoanalysis" | Man and Earth | Soul and Spirit | Selected Poetry | Consciousness and Life | Rosenberg contra Klages | Webmaster: Kevin Alfred Strom | Kevin Alfred Strom Historical Archive

Translated by Joe Pryce

1. Universal Morality. A man who cannot climb a tree will boast of never having fallen out of one. (RR p. 466)

2. Downfall. Today, those are outstanding spirits indeed in whom one can expect to find any independence of judgment. The great masses, who have never been, in the history of mankind, more subject to hypnotic suggestion than they are right now, have become the puppets of the "public opinion" that is engineered by the newspapers in the service, it need hardly be emphasized, of the reigning powers of finance. What is printed in the morning editions of the big city newspapers is the opinion of nine out of ten readers by nightfall. The United States of America, whose more rapid "progress" enables us to predict the future on a daily basis, has pulled far ahead of the pack when it comes to standardizing thought, work, entertainment, etc. 

Thus, the United States in 1917 went to war against Germany in sincere indignation because the newspapers had told them that Prussian "militarism" was rioting in devilish atrocities as it attempted to conquer the world. Of course, these transparent lies were published in the daily rags because the ruling lords of Mammon knew that American intervention in Europe would fatten their coffers. Thus, whereas the Americans thought that they were fighting for such high-minded slogans as "liberty" and "justice," they were actually fighting to stuff the money bags of the big bankers. These "free citizens" are, in fact, mere marionettes; their freedom is imaginary, and a brief glance at American work-methods and leisure-time entertainments is enough to prove conclusively that l’homme machine is not merely imminent: it is already the American reality.

Racial theorists seem cognizant of the fact that this will be the downfall of the white race, and that of the black and yellow races shortly thereafter. (Of the so-called "primitive" races, we say nothing other than that the few surviving tribal cultures are already at death’s door!) All of these facts are scarcely relevant, since the ultimate destruction of all seems to be a foregone conclusion. It is not this destruction that makes us sorrowful here, for no prophet can foretell whether a completely robotized mankind will survive for centuries, or even for millennia: what concerns us is the mechanization process itself. It is the tragic destiny of knowledge—of authentic knowledge and not of the imaginary sort, which provides the intellectual implements required by engineers and technicians—that it performs the funeral march that accompanies the disappearance, if not the burial, of a living essence. The only thing that we know is that we are no more. "Somnium narrare vigilantis est" (Seneca). (SW 4 pp. 408-9)

3. On the Psychology of the Drives. We are dealing here with a subject about which, bluntly speaking, nothing but a load of nonsense has hitherto been expounded. We have, in fact, said very little when we note that a psychology of the drives simply does not exist, because what has already been said on this topic, and said far too many times, demonstrates such a fundamental falsification of the facts that no further proof of the sheer ignorance of our ruling authorities is required. At least that is our impression when we turn our attention away from the pointless experimental research of today to the rich achievements of Romantic philosophy, and to the still considerable, but undoubtedly lesser, philosophical achievement of Nietzsche, whose deeply probing views on the drives were linked from the outset to his presentation of the "will to power" as it effects vital processes. Let us now attempt a comprehensive illumination of the drives, by means of a refutation of one well-known and suggestive point of view that has become a sort of classic example. 

Those psychologists who have blinded themselves to the very concept of life and who still insist on investigating the drives, regardless of whether they proceed intentionally like [Theodor] Lipps, the anatomist of consciousness, or whether, on the contrary, their purpose is to interpret volitional impulses as strictly analogous to drive impulses, like the philosopher Schopenhauer, will always interpret them by analogy with the will. If these psychologists lack any insight into the essential difference which obtains between drive impulses and volitional impulses, then, since it is a rare thing for man to experience drive impulses without experiencing concomitant volitional impulses, they will, without fail, transport spirit into the non-conscious drives and will misconstrue the drives in the worst conceivable fashion at the very moment when they are attempting to interpret acts of will in terms of pure drive impulses. Because the will pursues purposes, the life impulse, in its turn, is also conceived as purposive, and, in the end, the whole of nature is interpreted as if it were a systematic constellation of purposes. Thus, because volitional impulses are realized in achievements, and because we have grown accustomed to deducing the former from the latter, instead of the drives themselves, certain consequences arising from their activation, are studied, which are then imputed to the drives as intentions that are directed towards the achievement of an effect. Thus, since only an "ego" is capable of willing, i.e., an "ego" which asserts itself in every act of willing, the interest of the bearer of the will in its own self-preservation is transformed into a self-preservation drive possessed by all animate creatures. 

Perhaps a few examples will help to clarify this problem. Our domesticated animals eat and drink just as we do. Although they don't know, we do know, that nobody could survive at all, were he to give up eating and drinking completely. And so we are conscious of nutritive purposes and are enabled to make decisions such as the decision to improve our diet or the decision to desist from unnecessary gourmandizing; and the conclusion that has been drawn from this realization is that eating and drinking are primordial and universal functions of a nutritive drive, and that in this nutritive drive, it is the self-preservation drive that is forcefully announcing its presence. 

Now if someone were to say: but animals do not have the slightest idea that in order to live they have to take in calories; for even were we to assume that they are, in fact, capable of acquiring this knowledge, this would not dispose of the obvious fact that they perform these so-called purposive actions before they acquire it (e.g., the chick, which having just emerged from its egg, immediately pecks at the corn); nor, indeed, are these purposive actions restricted to the consumption of food, for they comprise a thousand and one other functions as well (e.g., the exodus of the migratory birds in the autumn). At this point, the faithful disciple of the self-preservationist creed, of sacro egoismo, will in all candor parade those phrases which, after they have been stripped of subterfuge and obfuscation, announce that all these phenomena are due to non-purposive purposes, thought-less thoughts, and unconscious consciousness! Just who is thinking here and who is not? The "self-preserving" creature does not think, but its inborn "nature" certainly has its preservation in mind. Within every unthinking creature, we are informed, there exists a planning, calculating "nature," one that is doubtlessly well equipped with the requisite financial techniques, which conducts its operations on a long-term basis, and about which we shall be shortly hearing some truly amazing things! (SW 1 pp. 566-68) 

4. On the Manifold Varieties of Love. In the case of just one major prompting of a drive impulse, the sentiment of love, we must demonstrate that it is not restricted to the exclusive love of one person for another.

In the first place, every person loves everything that he is capable of loving in a constantly changing manner during each of the first four seven-year stages of his life, whereupon, after a long period of growing equability, and with the gradual diminishing of sexual drive activity, a significant alteration again takes place, which is finally succeeded, during the more or less non-sexual phase, by a further transformation of the love impulse. Moreover, everyone experiences love in a different way during each period of his life, for he loves with a love that is appropriate to each father, mother, brother, sister, comrade, friend, superior, subordinate, fellow-worker, public figure, ruler, fellow countrymen, son, daughter, wife, lover, etc.; and with even greater differences, he will love things that are already tinged with love (e.g., memories); and utterly different will be his love for animals, plants, districts (like mountains, heath, sea, etc.), home, youth and so on, not to mention completely intangible love-objects such as career, science, art, religion, motherland, etc. But even within the specifically sex-colored drives, one and the same person in one and the same period of life is faced with a wealth of possible modes of loving which are seemingly inexhaustible. For apart from the fact that, due to the abundance of drive formations, this person is capable of alternately experiencing widely divergent processes as sources of sensual pleasure (the usual combinations: touching and feeling, facial perceptions of the most varied types, acts such as acts of suffering or of torment which the person inflicts or to which he submits), the love which this person bears for one person will differ in kind from the love he bears for another just as surely as the images of the two persons, which inspire that love, differ from each other. (SW 1 pp. 578 ff.)

5. Goethe and the Romantics. A living totality stands behind both: in Goethe it is Apollo, the god of individuation and, therefore, the god of materialization; in the Romantics, on the other hand, it is the dream-image of the Wild Hunter, the transcendent, drunken, reeling shade of Wotan…(RR p. 323)

6. The Rape of Mother Earth. In 1913, I composed (on request) for the celebratory volume of the Freideutsche Jugend that was ussued to commemorate the Centenary Festival on the Meissner Heights, the address entitled Mensch und Erde ("Man and Earth"). In that essay I provided a terrible analysis of the rape of nature by humanity in the present day, and I sought to prove that man, as the bearer of spirit, has torn himself apart just as he is tearing apart the planet to which he owes his birth. (SW 2 p. 1537)

7. Cosmic Polarities. The cosmos lives, and everything that lives is polarized; the two poles of life are soul (psyche) and body (soma). Wherever there is a living body, there also do we find a soul; wherever there is a soul, there also do we find a living body. The soul is the meaning of the living body, and the image of the body is the phenomenal manifestation of the soul. Whatever appears has a meaning; and every meaning reveals itself in the appearance. The meaning is experienced internally; the appearance is experienced externally. (SW 3 p. 390)

8. Monism of the Spirit. Spirit’s essentially monotheistic tendency can be witnessed in the pronouncements of the numerous scholars who seem to be compelled to subordinate everything that exists to one regnant principle. Spirit aims at universal rule: it unites the world under the ego or under the logos. When spirit attained to hegemony, it introduced two novelties: the belief in historical progress on the one side, and religious fanaticism on the other. The spirit utilizes force to eliminate all possible rivals. Over the warring and agitated primordial forces, spirit erected the tyranny of the formula: for some it announces itself as the "ethical autonomy of the individual"; the Catholic Church, on the other hand, still relies on the idea of holiness. (RR p. 306)

9. The Path of Spirit. Were we to comprehend everything that impinges on our senses, the world would thenceforth be devoid of riddles. That, however, is the quintessential project of spirit: the world of the senses is to be minted into the coin of concepts. (RR p. 466)

10. The Invader. The history of mankind shows that there occurs within man—and only within him—a war to the knife between the power of all-embracing love and a power from outside the spatio-temporal universe; this power severs the poles of life and destroys their unity by "de-souling" the body and disembodying the soul: this power is spirit (logos, pneuma, nous). (SW 3 p. 390)

11. The Adversaries. Life and spirit are two completely primordial and essentially opposed powers, which can be reduced neither to each other, nor to any third term. (SW 2 p.1527)

12. Body and Soul. One thesis has guided all of our enquiries for the past three decades or so: that body and soul are inseparably connected poles of the unity of life into which the spirit inserts itself from the outside like a wedge, in an effort to set them apart from each other; that is, to de-soul the body and disembody the soul, and so, finally, to smother any life that this unity can attain. (SW 1 p. 7)

13. On Ecstasy. It is not man’s spirit but his soul that is liberated in ecstasy; and his soul is liberated not from his body but from his spirit. (SW 3 p. 390) 

14. On Maternal Love. The selfless maternal love of one woman resembles that of another woman to the point of confusion. Since every instinct has something of the "animal" soul in it, maternal love possesses a depth of soul; however, in no way does it have a depth of spirit. Maternal love belongs equally to the animal mother and to the human mother. (SW 3 p. 367)

15. The Rhythm of Life. Whereas every non-human organism pulsates in accord with the rhythms of cosmic life, the law of spirit has ordained man’s exile from that life. What appears to man, as bearer of ego-consciousness, in the light of the superiority of calculating thought above all else, appears to the metaphysician, if he has pondered the matter deeply enough, in the light of an enslavement of life to the yoke of concepts! (SW 3 p. 391)

16. Knowledge and Poetry. A deep abyss separates knowledge and poetry. That which we have conceived, can nevermore be lived. This fact accounts for the "unwisdom" of poets. (RR p. 302)

17. Blondeness. The blonde man: man of the abyss, man of the night. (RR p. 315)

18. Stages of Human Development. Animal man lives on his instincts, unconsciously; magical man lives in a world of mythic images; spiritual man lives to spout moralistic platitudes. (RR p. 314)

19. On the Sexual Drive. It is a fundamental and willful falsification to call the sexual drive a drive to reproduction. Reproduction is only a potential outcome of sexual intercourse, but it is certainly not included in the actual experience of sexual excitement. The animal knows nothing of it; only man knows. (SW 3 p. 371)

20. On the Unreality of the Future. Space and time, co-existing in a polar relationship, have this in common: each is extended between the poles of the near and the far. Just as nearness is only one regardless of where I stand; and just as, on the other hand, distance [i.e., the "far"] is only one, regardless of whether I look to the east, west, north, or south; in the identical sense there can exist only one distance in time relative to one and the same nearness in time. Were there two—i.e., in addition to the distance of the past, a distance into the future—then the nature of the distance to a future point of relationship must necessarily contradict the nature of the distance to a past point. However, since the opposite is the case, the alleged duality of temporal distance constitutes an illusion! 

We now explain why we do, in fact, regard the future as a mere illusion. When I contemplate the past, I recollect a reality that once existed; when, on the other hand, I think of the future, I am necessarily thinking of something that is unreal, something that exists solely in this act of thinking. Were all thinking beings to vanish, the past—as it really existed—would remain an unalterable reality; whereas the name "future" would be utterly devoid of meaning in a world wherein there were no beings alive to "think" it. (SW 3 p. 433)

21. Blood and Nerves. The blood is the site of orgiastic life. What separates the ecstatic nature from the rational is not a refinement of the brain, but a condition of the blood: purple blood, blue blood, divine blood. Life resides in blood and pulse. (RR p. 246)

22. Seeking and Finding. He who seeks shall find, but only after he has surrendered his being to the guidance of the gods. (RR p. 253)

23. Logic and Mysticism. Logic is organized darkness. Mysticism is rhythmic light. (RR p. 253)

24. Man and Homeland. The man of instinct is devoted to his homeland. In this feeling for the homeland is rooted all art, nobility, and race. Only the man without a homeland can break with his past. The noble man attaches himself completely to the historical fortunes of his tribe. He will never repudiate his youth; he will never abandon his home. (RR p. 246)

25. Mankind and Race. We must draw a sharp distinction between the man who sees the world as divided between the "human" and the "non-human," and the man who is most profoundly struck by the obvious racial groupings of mankind (Nietzsche’s "masters"). The bridge that connects us to the Cosmos does not originate in "man," but in race. (RR p. 245)

26. On Literary "Critics" and the Bildungsphilister. We are informed that the latest concoction by some schoolteacher or literary hack is the finest work of the last decade, or even since the death of Nietzsche. A new novel is hailed as the most astounding book ever written on the subject of love. We are told that a recent play has inaugurated a whole new epoch in the art of the theater. We find nothing extraordinary in the claim that some current offering puts Homer, Aeschylus, Pindar, Dante, and Shakespeare quite in the shade; that it initiates a completely original school of creative writing; and that the masterpiece under discussion makes all of the efforts of earlier geniuses seem faded and colorless by comparison. Of course, most of our book-reviewers have been well trained in American advertising techniques, and, as a result, their critical reviews have all the subtlety and depth of the blurbs in a publisher’s catalogue. 

And how readily our educated philistines have rejoiced at this grim state of affairs! (SW 2 p. 1543)

27. Sin and the Pagan World. The idea of "sin" was quite alien to the pagan world. The ancient pagans knew the gods’ hatred as well as their revenge, but they never heard of punishment for "sin." The ancient philosophers did understand something of the "good," but when they employed this expression, they were certainly not endorsing the concept of the "sinless." Quite the contrary: they were actually speaking of the pursuit of every type of excellence. (RR p. 317)

28. Heraclitus. Heraclitus regards the flame as the symbol of actuality; thus, we realize that his soul was ecstatic. Nevertheless, he is also the representative of a rupture, and this realization enables us to perceive his affinity with ourselves. He was not truly a magician, nor was he a prophet or poet, but, rather: a dithyrambic thinker. There exists an insurmountable law that tells us that whatever evokes the greatest activity in our inner life is accompanied by the greatest affectivity: Heraclitus embodies the philosophical style that maintains a rhythmical mobility; therefore, he is more alert to the centrifugal movement of the flame, and to its hostility to the watery element, than he is to its pulsating incandescence. In a one-sided manner, he misinterprets the sea itself, its breaking waves, and the consummate rush of the maenads…The true fulfillment of the Heraclitean synthesis would be: a flame-stricken sea. (RR p. 314)

29. Cosmic Aggregations. The cosmic powers do not arrive as drizzling rain. They are rather a torrent, but one can choke that torrent with alien hordes. The torrent will be split up, like molten metal, into a thousand whirling pearls. The cosmic substance remains intact within scattered seeds of noble blood. (RR p. 254) 

30. The Death of Paganism. Every collapse of cosmic creativity is brought about solely by two agencies: infection from without, and weakness from within. (RR p. 256)

31. Effects of Christianity. It was Christianity’s great achievement to exhaust the soul by defaming sexual passion. But in prohibiting the urge—the "rune within the flesh" (Alfred Schuler)—it thwarted the very possibility of its renewal. And erotic satisfaction is the pre-condition for all cosmic radiance. (RR p. 243)

32. Life and Being. All human existence is connected somehow with life: this is so even when life is degenerating (as in a polluted race) and when it is parasitic (as in the Jew behind his mask). (RR p. 289)

33. The True Master of Secret Societies. In the forefront of our secret societies, we have the Rosicrucians, the Illuminati, the Freemasons, the "Odd Fellows," and B’nai B’rith. The educated classes are provided with such recent varieties as…the Einstein cult and Freudianism. For half-educated fools we have H. P. Blavatsky, Anny Besant, Rudolf Steiner, and Krishnamurti. For the poor in spirit, there’s the Christian Science of Mrs. Eddy, the Oxford Movement, and biblical fundamentalism. All of these groups, along with innumerable lesser organizations, are humanitarianism’s masks. Jewry is the center from which they are ruled. (LK GL p. 1345)

34. On Christian Philosophy. The values endorsed by Christian philosophical systems are either ethical or logical, i.e., functional values devoid of living substance. With that one statement, however, we have judged Christian philosophy. (RR p. 300)

35. Christ and Dionysos. Dionysus is the releasing god: Eleusis, Lysios. In him the spheres expropriate themselves through commingling. In Dionysus, death becomes eternal rebirth and the meaning of life. Here every tension releases itself and all opposites coalesce. Dionysus is the symbol of the whirlpool; he is chaos as it glowingly gives birth to the world. 

In the ego-god, however, we find only an oppressive "truth," an emphasis on purpose (Socrates), and a "beauty of soul" that negates the beauty of the body (mortification of the flesh). Just as one rightly calls Dionysus the releaser, so should Jesus Christ be called the one who represses, because repression is the limiting power that enabled him to conquer so many nations, just as he will, perhaps, eventually conquer all. What Alfred Schuler called his "eagerness for love," can only repress; it can never release. The paradox here is that Jesus insists that he alone is the "redeemer," i.e., the one who releases! (RR p. 267)

36. The Christian Sickness. From the universal love of the wandering Germanic tribes, Christianity fashioned the insanity known as redemption. (RR p. 250)

37. Christianity and Wakefulness. Even in the garden of olives Christ begged his disciples to remain awake by his side. The saints indicate by their sleeplessness that nothing can harm them. Christianity is the war against sleep and dream, two states for which a reviving elemental life will always be yearning. Against the activity of astral wakefulness, elemental life places consummation and the pagan feeling for fate. True pagans regard sleeplessness as the most monstrous conceivable evil. We might also add that the wakefulness of the Christian manifests a slavish impulse: the lurking wariness and prudence of submissive souls. (RR p. 253)

38. From A Letter Re: "Anti-Semitism." I’ve never endorsed the claim that the Nazi Bonzes belonged to a superior race. However, I must also add that I have consistently refused to accept the claim of a certain other race to be the "chosen people." The arrogance is identical in both cases, but with this significant distinction: after waging war against mankind for more than three thousand years, Jewry has finally achieved total victory over all of the nations of the earth. 

Therefore, I will have nothing to do with the contemporary kowtowing on the part of almost the entire civilized world before the haters of all mankind (Tacitus spoke of Christians, but he certainly meant the Jews, as will be obvious to every alert reader of his works). I despise all this kowtowing to the Jews as an utterly mendacious tactical ploy. (LK GL p. 1350)

39. The Prophecy of a Jewish Friend. I might easily fill ten pages…with anecdotes concerning the life of Richard Perls. He was born a Jew, but he eventually abandoned Judaism, a religion that he had come to hate. One year before his death, which occurred, to the best of my recollection, in 1897, he said to me: "Herr Klages, the ancient world was destroyed by Judaism, just as the modern world is about to be!" When I voiced my skepticism as to the accuracy of his prophecy…he merely responded: "Just wait—you will live to see my prophecy fulfilled!" (LK GL p. 196)

40. Paganism and Christianity. Life is instantaneous, death is duration: this truth must stand above the threshold of our paganism. With this truth we inaugurate the depreciation of spirit… (RR p. 260)

41. Christian and Pagan. A pagan can become a Christian in his old age: the living substance disintegrates, and the rotting residue is barely functional. On the other hand, never will a Christian become a pagan. (RR p. 264) Christianity and Self-Preservation. Christianity aims always at the preservation of the individual ego, in whose service it preaches "compassion." Christian compassion is hostile to life, because the laws of life are not the laws of the ego: therefore, Nietzsche was correct in spurning it. The paganism that he wished to proclaim, on the other hand, was a splendid surrender of the ego and, hence, a phenomenon of life.

Christian compassion, however, took on a more sympathetic form within the Nordic world, where compassion was felt towards even the animals and plants. 

In addition, there is still another type: cosmic compassion (the erotic), which is a positive stirring of life and affection that we should never discourage. (RR p. 301)

42. Christianity and Time. Christianity first changed time into the historical "once and once only." (RR p. 303)

43. The Great Deceiver. To the Jew, everything human is a sham. One might even say that the Jewish face is nothing but a mask. The Jew is not a liar: he is the lie itself. From this vantage point, we can say that the Jew is not a man…He lives the pseudo-life of a ghoul whose fortunes are linked to Jahweh-Moloch. He employs deception as the weapon with which he will exterminate mankind. The Jew is the very incarnation of the unearthly power of destruction. (RR p. 330)

44. How Jahweh Expresses Himself. Jahweh’s medium of expression is the gesture. His characteristic gestures, insofar as they actually possess any metaphysical significance, can be interpreted as an ever-deeper subjugation of one principle at the hands of an ever-loftier one: consecration, blessing, etc., on the one side, and repentance, contrition, and adoration on the other. Semitic religiosity is restricted to the adoring worshipper and the adored deity. When this religiosity attaches itself solely to the personal, the emblem of worship becomes the individual person. Only the Semitic religions bow to the "One God." In adoration, the believer achieves the non-rational form of ego-consciousness. Pagan rationality glides right past the god to the ego; in the Semitic "service of God," however, the transcendental "One" brings destruction to the world of "appearances." Apollo is, so to speak, an ethically developed Dionysus; he works on the soil of blood-thinning. Jahweh is the all-devouring nothingness; he works on the soil of blood-poisoning. (RR p. 321)

45. The Cult of the Christ. It is impossible to conceive of a more fatal blindness than that of the cult instigated by this Jewish sectarian and his apostles and camp followers. Torn from the bonds of nature and the past, man must now direct his gaze at the wasteland known as the "future"; into that desert he stares, paralyzed by dread of the vengeful Jew-God. And before this insane masquerade of the "kingdom come," the "last judgment," and "eternal punishment" can complete its conquest of the world, the true heroes and the real gods must first be made to grovel before the cross! (RR p. 285)

46. Eros. Eros is elemental or cosmic in so far as the individual who is seized by Eros experiences, as it were, a pulsating, inundating stream of electricity. (RR p. 387)

47. Eros (as Opposed to "Sexuality"). In the ancient world, Eros was always closely associated with ethos. The Christian era inaugurated the reign of "sexuality" and its necessary complement: asceticism. Tension and hostility begin to infect intimate relationships, until eventually we arrive at the "war between the sexes."…The Jew consummates the total victory of "sexuality," although, of course, he knows nothing of genuine sensuality, as he is a mere lecher. True Eros is eventually demoted to the status of a mere sexual "stimulant." (RR p. 349)

48. Nobility and Race. Nobility belongs exclusively to the man of race. There is no such thing as moral nobility, only a moral egoism. The downfall of a master caste is the very essence of tragedy. A sense of honor is inborn in every aristocrat, and the duel is the knightly principle incarnate. Only he who is without race can endure disgrace. The master scorns the very idea of a negotiated settlement. The master perishes from wounded pride. (RR p. 245)

49. Rome and Germania. One may be a fixed star or a planet; even as a fixed star one may be a planet, for there are both planetary suns as well as stationary ones. The Roman was the center, the German the periphery, but the German sphere was so distant that, to the Roman, it seemed to be a mere tangent point, an entity struggling on the margins of his world. The Roman sun is not the German’s center, for Rome is itself a peripheral creation in the eyes of the German during the time of his colossal wanderings. But then he was given the cross: now the need for redemption becomes his guiding star, and he is soon at work forging Judah’s ring of power. (RR p. 252)

50. The Dioscuri. The Dioscuri of Mankind: the hero and the poet. The first one lives the primordial image; the other perceives and reveals it. They are sons born of the same mother: there is no other metaphysical brotherhood. (RR p. 288)

51. The Homosexual Character. Peripheral qualities: lack of conviction, self-flattery. Closer to the center: his personality is more selfish than that of any woman. In general, the homosexual has no sense for facts. Even closer to the center: the most peculiar form of megalomania. He even believes that he understands love, while he sneers at love between man and woman as merely a mask behind which lurks the breeding impulse. He sees himself as the center of the world, a world that he believes would collapse were his own surroundings to collapse. His house, his garden, and his crowd are for him the whole universe. He cannot turn his gaze from his favorite playroom, which explains why his horizon is limited to himself and his more talented associates. Psychologically, his incapacity for abstract thought is consistent with his persistent identification with the feminine character. Alone, he manifests a propensity to confuse his own little world with the real one. Another way of expressing our view: in general, he doesn’t believe in the external world at all, but in a world which is part of himself, and, so to speak, his private property. In the presence of his fellow men, the homosexual presents himself as a sort of patron; he wants to be everyone’s father, ruler, and general authority-figure; he even values this relationship as a form of erotic satisfaction. Favorite hobbies: boys and Platonism. The salient secondary qualities are: sensitivity, ability to scent a change in the weather, a taste for politics, a knowledge of the ways of men, and an inability to commune directly with nature; he prefers aestheticism, culture, art, poetry, and philosophy. Although he has a predilection for trees, animals, and parks, etc., he has no feeling whatsoever for elemental nature. A tentative explanation: his entire being radiates exhaustion and disarray. He always stands on the outside, not in the sense of Judaism, but more in the manner of the paranoiac, who, although he possesses some small share of vitality, has no involvement with the universal stream of life. That is why, in fact, the homosexual’s inability to love leaves him receptive only to what is loveable in life. Thus, he experiences every deeper association with another person as just one more variety of self-love, as if he were merely encountering a side of his own personality; he requires these fresh, counterfeit connections with persons and things so that he might enhance his own self-love (the "smugness" of every homosexual). While Jewish exclusiveness leads to life-envy and the drive to disintegration, the homosexual is led by a drive to contraction. Just as the homosexual carries within him his own little world, his overall horizon presents a closed "circle." He substitutes his finite world for the infinity of the real world. These compulsions once ruled the Rome of the Caesars as they still rule the Rome of the Popes. (RR p. 366)

52. Worship of the State. We hope that we need not emphasize that our denunciation of "state-thought" is not in the least an attack "Capitalism" from the standpoint of some variety of "Socialism"! "Capitalism," Liberalism," Marxism," "Communism," etc., are stages on one and the same path to the mechanization of all human associations, a path that leads—as only the blind would fail to see—to a collectivist destination. (AG p. 178)

53. Substantial Thought. The forbidding of thought on the part of ascetics speaks volumes in favor of thought. The substance of thought possesses the power to embody itself. The experience of thought can even rattle the gates to the empire of the sun, and set the world of images vibrating. (RR p. 306)

54. The Sacred. Suppose a thinker has convinced himself that the far-famed sanctity of the "three-fold"—the triad of Poseidon, the tripod of the Pythian Oracle, the three divisions of the world of the gods, the Christian Trinity, the Three Norns, and so many other items—is the genuine experience of a three-fold system of reality. He will (assuming that the Orphic Eros itself is a matter of living experience to him) likewise seek behind the three-fold phenomena embodied in theogonic myth an experienced actuality. The cosmic rush, as the loftiest of all chaotic intoxicants, must thus be understood in its three unique forms. Many years have passed since the author of these lines first drew attention to the three basic modes of the rush, viz., the heroic, the erotic, and the magical…In the magical mode, the rush manifests its nature in a dual connection to the nightly firmament and to the realm of the dead. Its historical high point was reached in the "Magism" of the Medes and in the Egyptian funerary cult. Perhaps its purest conceptual precipitate is to be found in Chaldean astrology. The heroic-tragic rush…was embodied in that epoch of late "Pelasgian" humanity upon which historians have bestowed the title of "the heroic age." Among the four heroic peoples with whom we are familiar, the rush was embodied in the magnificent creations of the epic poets. The most striking characteristic of the epic lies in the fact that here the death of the ego is achieved through the death of the warrior’s body in battle. Its most superb manifestation took place in the Germanic world…the doomed warriors experience death in battle as the kiss of the Valkyrie; the hero knew that he would soon awaken from the torment and darkness of destruction—in Valhalla’s realm of the dead! (SW 3 p. 398)

55. Woman and Poet. The woman and the poet are close relations. He is the voice of her yearnings. In the wake of the poets dances the procession of the Bacchantes. Poets are the interpreters of Dionysus. (RR p. 262)

56. Affect and Life. Life incorporates the affect; the ego disembodies it. (RR p. 356)

57. The Western Light. "What a commotion is caused by light!" This is the western light, the showering bolts of light, the storm of radiance. (RR p. 303)

58. Idealism. Idealism is the poverty of the wealthy and the wealth of the impoverished. (RR p. 304)

59. Primal Imagery of the World. Every region of the world can instantaneously become the complete possession of the soul; the region’s essential complexion remains the same. In that instant, one gains a glimpse of eternity. (RR p. 244)

60. On Possessing Wealth. Many first possess wealth, and are then possessed by it. Many lose their wealth, and, in turn, become the richer for their loss. (RR p.253)

61. On Memory. It requires no experiment to prove that a content having meaning is more easily memorized, and is retained for a greater length of time, than, for example, a series of meaningless syllables; and that verse, especially rhymed verse, is more easily retained than prose. Further, we are all aware that repetition facilitated learning. If at one time I have studied physics, and, as I think, have forgotten everything about the subject in the course of time, then if I once more take up the laws of physics, I shall nevertheless learn them much more quickly than when I first studied this subject. Numerous experiments have shown that a distribution of repetitions over several days is more favorable to the process of memorizing than their immediate accumulation. Further, it also appears to be the case that a coherent whole is more effortlessly mastered if it is learned in one piece that if it is divided into parts to be learned in separate pieces: finally, relatively quick learning is preferable to relatively slow learning. In these respects, at least, all persons are more or less alike, although there are a very few notable instances in absolute speed of learning and the length of retention, under equal conditions, of memorizing. It should also be emphasized that typically quick learners are by no means also quick to forget. Thus, it is certain that some men have a stronger innate memory than others. (SW 4 p. 261)

62. Counterfeit Narcotics. The god of the modern age is "Mammon," and its symbol is money (paper, thus unreal; "capital," thus heartless). Mammon’s temple is the Stock Exchange. Slavery and depravity are its servants: both are narcotics, both are counterfeit, both are perverted. (RR p. 354) 

63. The Cosmos and the Earth. Though our yearning presses towards the most distant reaches of the Cosmos, we are nurtured only upon the earth. (RR p. 258)

64. Eros and Chaos. Eros without chaos: humanitarianism. Chaos without Eros: demonic devastation. Eros within chaos: Dionysus. (RR p. 265)

65. Pleasure in the Rain. In the fall of rain we find the marriage of the telluric and sidereal elements. (RR p. 265)

66. Element. The element is the ultimate manifestation of animated being. Perpetually, life drifts towards sleep—the road leading downward; endlessly, it transmits signals of war—the road leading upward. Gaia opens eyelids heavy with slumber to gaze upon the heroes and wizards in the distance. (RR p. 261)

67. No Exit. There can be no liberation through denial, but only through fulfillment. In despair, life is shattered, but this does not lead to a marriage with the Cosmos: the new state would be just as miserable as the old. (RR p. 273)

68. Rome and Germania. The Roman surrounded himself with walls, the German with falling rain and wind-blown trees: to them he sings, about them he thinks, and in their midst he dreams his innermost dream. (RR p. 277)

69. Function of Time. In the life that rings us round, time and eternity are identical. Individual life ages, but the substance of life has the power to rejuvenate itself from within. (RR p. 277)

70. The eternal "Jungfrau". The summit of the "Jungfrau" is the symbol of the eternally fresh dew, the eternal morning, the never-ending and never-aging beginning, the perpetual today, the undiminished, radiant heights of the timeless first moment. (RR p. 281)

71. Meaning and Purpose. Everything purposeful is meaningless, and everything meaningful is purposeless. (RR p. 280)

72. A Note. The image that falls upon the senses: that, and nothing besides, is the meaning of the world. (RR p. 280)

73. The Deed. Only one connection to the future is authentic enough to vindicate the unreality of a "future": the deed that this future summoned into being. Anything else is the wishful thinking of pious fools. (RR p. 280)

74. History. History knows no tragedy, but only success and failure. The tragic view of historical events was a misunderstanding hatched by poets. (RR p. 280)

75. "Asiatism". Spiritualism is of Asiatic derivation, but there it has two origins: out of the revolt of the slave, and the debauchery of the king. The gruesome mania of domination and the base servility of slavery are both symptoms of the excess that is characteristic of the Asiatic nature. (RR p. 302)

76. The Orient. The ardor of dream. The objective world trembles dubiously in the exaggerated blaze of the noontide desert. The soul respires as if in a brooding pregnancy. Finally, there strides out of the seething, vibrating blue, a mirage: the Fata Morgana. (RR p. 243)

77. Aphorism on China. China is the land of the deepest wisdom, and all of its wisdom teaches: learn to endure life, have patience! The wisdom of China is unmystical; it divides its attention equally between the soul and the real world. (RR p. 293)

78. The Opposed Will. Feelings of loathing are far more characteristic of man than are his preferences. Consciousness begets restraint. (RR p. 301)

79. Polarities. 1. Essential—Cosmic; 2. Telluric—Sidereal; 3. Fixed—Wandering; 4. Cell—Element; 5. Chaos—Wotan. (RR p. 318)

80. The Sun Child. Children of the sun have no history, for no child ever has a history. From the outset, however, the ego does have a history, in the individual as in mankind as a whole: it ages. (RR p. 318)

81. The "Finger of God". In the "finger of God" as well as in the stigmata, I see the perversion of the "dactylology" [= "sign language"] of the ancient world. (RR p. 322)

82. The Road to Degeneration. Love is aborted by contemplation, passion by the deed. Contemplation degenerates into science, the deed into theatrics. (RR p.342)

83. "Monism". Every form of so-called "Monism" confuses unity and connection. It runs aground on such crucial concepts as extension, space, and time. (RR p. 362)

84. Destiny and Memory. That which inspires the deepest desire in us, arises through the medium of our darker childhood memories. (RR p. 474)

85. Flux and Movement. The flux is the image of the happening; the movement is its visible form. (RR p. 360) 

86. Life and Flux. Life is flux, permanence is death. Life as endurance culminates in the faith in the actuality of things, in the madness of duration. The Cosmos incarnates the actuality of an unceasing process. Only in the interplay of fixed and wandering powers lies the guarantee of life. (RR p. 249)

87. The Cloven Substance. The soul is divided by border regions. Love becomes yearning. Rejected by the Cosmos, blundering mankind goes astray. (RR p. 251)

88. Pagan Love. Only love delivers us from the labyrinth of the world. Only love releases the individual to cosmic life. Cosmic man experiences nothing human other than his love, and his love incarnates his melancholy-joyous revelry. (RR p. 255)

89. Evolution of the Image. The primordial whirlpool deposits images in the blood. These images will themselves into visibility. The awakened man forges the images out of rock and ore. Dream-dark knowledge shackles them with decree and edict. Cosmic Eros lives within a molten ring of imagery. (RR p. 254)

90. Willfulness. Willfulness knows no end. It is the spawn of want and need. It is an empty belly that gobbles up the Cosmos. "You must will," says every moralist from Socrates to Kant… (RR p. 258)

91. Soul and Individual. In the soul, the individual is not truly an individual, but a cosmic wave. The soul is able to bypass its bodily-spiritual uniqueness, to go beyond, to become a whirlpool of universal life. Within the blood of those who are rich in soul-substance, atoms of fire circulate: the pores, the mouth, and the sexual organs are the portals of life. (RR p. 263)

92. Roman and Barbarian. Only the barbarians (Germans, Moslems, and Tatars), and not the men of classical antiquity, understood the rush of battle. When the Greek or Roman warrior met the barbarian on the field of battle, astuteness conquered the rush. (RR p. 317)

93. Concept, Name, Thing. The origin of thought is not to be found in the duality: concept and thing, but in the trinity: concept, name, and thing. The name embraces the totality, but concept and thing are its poles. This enables us to clarify the magical effect that the word can have upon a consciousness that is receptive to the symbol. (RR p. 361)

94. Discovery and Observation. We do not make discoveries through observation; we only confirm them. (RR p. 362)

95. Rhythm and Measure. The entire phenomenal universe is organized upon a rhythmic basis. Science has correctly discovered—although it has had some difficulty in comprehending its discovery—that sound, heat, and electricity all have a rhythmical nature. (SW 7 p. 329)

96. Song and Rhythm. Every song has its rhythm and its measure. Perhaps, it was only by means of the erroneous identification of rhythm and measure, that it became possible strictly to separate them. Although rhythm and measure may seem to be as intimately intertwined as a pair of dancers, they are, by nature and by origin, not mere opposites, but opposites striving against each other; in all of nature only man has thought to make one substance of rhythm and nature, and in this attempt he has had to use force. (SW 7 p. 330)

97. Animals and Rhythm. The flapping of a bird’s wings in flight is rhythmical, as is the wild horse’s stamping, and the gliding of the fish through the water. However, animals cannot run, fly, or swim according to measure; nor can man himself breathe according to measure. (SW 7 p. 336)

98. Life and Self-Preservation. The laws of life are not the laws of self-preservation. This is the dreadful side of life, and it serves as the basis of all tragedy. (RR p. 246)

99. Beauty and Ego. Neither the ego nor its deeds are beautiful. Man is beautiful only to the extent that he participates in the eternal soul of the Cosmos. Beauty is always demonic, and the proper objects of our adoration are the gods. (RR p. 246)

100. Work and Wonder. Deed, work, and system belong to the realm of spirit. What cannot be wonder will become work. Unconsciously, the maternal ground of the soul generates the shining purple blood; the imagistic force, however, is masculine, sunny, spiritual. (RR p. 256)

Translated by Joe Pryce from the original sources. For reference, notes refer to the more easily obtainable texts:

AC=Klages, L. Zur Ausdruckslehre und Charakterkunde. Heidelberg. 1926. 

AG=Klages, L. Ausdrucksbewegung und Gestaltungskraft. Munich. 1968.

LK GL=Schroeder, H. E. Ludwig Klages Die Geschichte Seines Lebens. Bonn. 1966-1992. 

PEN=Klages, L. Die psychologischen Errungenschaften Nietzsches. Leipzig. 1926

RR=Klages, L. Rhythmen und Runen. Leipzig. 1944. 

SW=Klages, L. Sämtliche Werke. Bonn. 1965-92.
 101. Festivals. Every festival will be a play between distances. (RR. p. 269)

102. Viewpoints. 1. The logocentric ascetic. His view emerges from one point and directs itself to one point. He discovers neither the colors within him nor the things without. He sees only radiating points. 

2. The cellular-microcosmic man. He sees within him the colors of plants and animals, or he sees columns, screens, and hanging lamps. He celebrates his festival in the purple vaults of his soul. 

3. Macrocosmic-heroic man. He is utterly outside himself, in rain, burning sun, forest, ocean, and open country. He knows no self-consciousness. He experiences the signals of heroic battles, whilst his gaze dreams with the sapling in the fireplace. His dream-laden view is analogous to physical blindness. Indeed, Homer is blind.

4. Teleological man. His view emerges from out of the ego, and is directed straight back at the ego. He never contemplates; he merely observes. (RR p. 305)

103. The Dreamer. Eros holds absolute sway only within a magical actuality. The world-image passes through the magical stage to the second condition of consciousness, one that is no longer disturbed by experiences of "near" and "far." Already, the dream-laden Eros is becoming a weaker Eros. In moralistic civilizations, cosmic man tears himself away from an actuality that has become commonplace. Because he has "received a shock" in contact with this tiresome reality, he becomes a "dreamer." We are closer to things than were the Romantics, which may account for the fact that our sorrow has a more acrid savor. (RR p. 311)

104. The Meaning of "Ratio". In ratio, life is a synonym for calculation. God is the greatest number…Time realizes its potential on the line of progress. Jahweh, the "devouring flame," cancels out the moment. God is a mere word, a predicate without a subject. (RR p. 275)

105. Two Primordial Spirits. There is a gloom that shines on the outside, and there is an inner light that sheds an outer darkness. One brightens and redeems, but is itself blind; the other sees and understands, but sheds no light. One comprehends a world without understanding himself; the other comprehends himself, without understanding the world. (RR p. 285)

106. Two Discoverers. The thoughtful: he cannot leave his place, although he has the walking stick that reaches into every distance. The farseeing: he has no walking stick, and yet he wanders. (RR p. 285)

107. Man and Death. In all of creation only man lives in opposition to death. Although the doctrines of every mystagogue aim at stripping death of its power, they all go utterly astray: instead of encompassing the downfall of the ego, they encourage the belief in the prolongation of the ego’s existence into infinity. (RR p. 287)

108. Wisdom of Life. What befalls every man is that which belongs to him, and we can only lose that which we no longer possess. (RR p. 287)

109. On the Primordial Word. In the primordial word, showing and working co-exist. The wave of the Cosmos reaches its highest crest when it displays the soul in the garb of the word. (RR p. 287)

110. On Beauty. Beauty is but the cloak of happiness. Where joy tarries, there also is beauty; however, beauty itself may become ugly in our moments of repugnance. (RR p. 468)

111. Man and Woman. Woman lives more in being, man more in consciousness. To woman belongs the present, to man the future or the past.

Masculine logic corresponds to woman’s feeling for measure.

Man strives, but woman lives.

Man is centrifugal force, but woman is weightier.

Woman is short-sighted regarding the "far," man regarding the "near."

Man always sees aims and, thus, the abstractions at hand; woman first teaches him the joy in the real world. (RR p. 468)

112. Invulnerable. At the summit of his vitality, man is invulnerable. In the moments of our greatest certainty of being, we are stronger than external destiny. No one and nothing can slay us. (RR p. 473)

113. Knowledge and Proof. The most essential knowledge is not susceptible to proof. (RR p. 474)

114. Shadow. You shoot up like the shadow of a body that flees before the light. (RR p. 463)

115. Soul of the World. Whenever we destroy something, we destroy along with it part of the soul of the world. (RR p. 462)

116. Grief. Grief drags his dread through the Cosmos. (RR p. 436)

117. On the Poet. One misleads oneself regarding the poet if one sees the essence of his art in depth of feeling and passion. Whoever finds inside himself a spark of the poetic spirit can only become a true poet if that which has moved his soul since the days of his youth is the word, the word as expression of the connection between his soul and the images of the world. (RR p. 472)

118. Roots in the Past. The roots of my nature reach into diluvian pre-history. There exists within me a sympathy with the most distant past, with the longest vanished stages of development, with the primitive basalt, with the oceans, clouds and storms. (RR p. 472)

119. Feelings and Speech. When our feelings were most intense, our speech was still constrained and bound. Now, as we think of more audacious words, the waves of feeling have already receded. (RR p. 472)

120. Tears for the Dead. We believe that we weep for the dead; in truth, we only pity ourselves for being eternally separated from the deceased. (RR p. 462)

121. Formula for the Ethos of Character. The egoist: I will. The altruist: I shall. The sentimentalist: you will. The ascetic: he wills (I must). Animal man: it wills (I must). Elemental man: it happens (I must). (RR p. 481)

122. Life and Philosophy. To pour life into concepts at a venture: that is the mission of philosophy. (RR p. 478)

123. Sentimentality. Sentimentality is the yearning for images on the part of those who are unfit to behold them. (RR p. 475)

124. The Recluse and the Active Man. Were we to resign all [social] intercourse with mankind, we may become mystics, pedants, or hair-splitting metaphysicians, but we could never become masters of characterology; and the danger of self-deception to such a recluse may become enormous. The famous tat tvam asi does perhaps strike some prophetic chord or other; but only weary souls’ love of solitude could help to spread a saying whose delusive profundity conceals the fact that the world is immeasurably greater, richer, and more manifold that that part of it which fits into a single impoverished formula. Qualities that are to enter into our consciousness must receive their daily exercise; and the most important are only exercised among our fellow men. A man may have a greater capacity for jealousy than most, and yet he might never have the slightest awareness of this fact until day when he falls violently in love. Many inhabitants of the big city overestimate their physical courage, because city life rarely gives occasion for serious tests of courage. Goethe never tired of insisting that only the "active" man can accurately estimate his strengths and weaknesses. (SW 4 p. 212)

125. Macrobiotics. The loftiest morality of macrobiotics: be courageous, serene, and cautious. The only problem is: either one already possesses these three qualities, or one can never possess them. (RR p. 456)

126. Understanding and Will. Understanding is the emergence of spirit out of itself; the will represents its return into itself. In its conceptual, rational, explanatory mode, spirit loses itself in the world, is "just" to the images, and, thus, is centrifugal. In its volitional mode, on the other hand, spirit takes the world into itself as if it were plunder and, thus, spirit is centripetal. One can refute proofs, but not purposes. (RR p. 362)

127. Thinking and Breathing. In the proper sense, thinking is volitional; thinking, however, is an interior speaking. Therefore, excessive thought leads to shallow respiration and shortness of breath. This is especially true of emotional thinking: it takes one’s breath away. (RR p. 353)

128. Plagiarism. There may indeed be more profound scholars among my contemporaries, as well as more learned and more successful ones; but in one area I have certainly achieved the world-record: I am the most plundered author on the contemporary scene. (SW 2 p. 1535)

129. Dead Things. That which has been pierced by the searchlight of the intellect is instantaneously transformed into a mere thing, a quantifiable object for our thought that is henceforth only mechanically related to other objects. The paradoxical expression of a modern sage, "we perceive only that which is dead," is a lapidary formulation of a deep truth. (SW 3 p. 652)

130. On Normative Ethics. From Socrates through Kant and into the present, the command is reiterated, in the hundreds of refractions and metamorphoses that constitute every normative system of ethics, that man’s task is to "control himself," to subjugate his desires to the rule of reason, to moderate his feelings, if not to extirpate them entirely. (SW 4 p. 552)

131. The Egoist. His formula is not the "will-to-power," but the noli turbare ["do not disturb me"] of Archimedes. The sympathetic feelings in the egoist are inverted, and they assume the morally colored drives: to accumulate "honors," to hate, and to envy. He possesses a thoroughly "cold" nature, inclines to solitude, and chooses only such occupations as will permit him to remain alone within himself. He is inartistic, his soul is devoid of the feminine element, he will never attract disciples, and he always chooses himself as his favorite field of contemplation. (SW 4 p. 5)

132. Knowledge and Actuality. The knowledge of life is not life, just as the knowledge of death is not death itself. (RR p. 280)

133. On Language and Vision. Among older students of language, L. Geiger, in his book on the "Origins and Development of Human Language and Reason" (1868), which, unfortunately, remained a sort of "torso," held the view (which is correct in fact, though badly worked out by him and, until today, unappreciated) that the development of language, as well as the development of all human thought, takes place under the overwhelming influence of the sense of sight. Now, if it be granted that, for reasons connected with the theory of consciousness, we held this assertion to be correct, we will certainly not reject the confirmation of this position that the testimony of language provides in the following cases, which are merely a few among many. The German "Wissen" (to know) leads us back to the Indo-European root wid, which in almost all of the Indo-European languages means interchangeably "to find," "to cognize," or "to see": Sanskrit vid = "to find"; Latin videre = "to see"; and Gothic witan = "to observe." Thus, in German the chief words for the most crucial functions and results of the intellect are taken from the sphere of sight: view, insight, intuition, and also aim. On the other hand, the development of the Latin cernere passes from "to sever" through the abstraction "to distinguish" to "perceive with the eyes" and to "see a thing clearly." Such examples, which can easily be multiplied, shed light on the inner connection that connects the power of judgment and that of sight: that is, of course, according to the "spirit of language." (SW 4 pp. 234-5)

134. Formula and Meaning. Characterological terminology must do justice to the present meaning of words and not to that of some past era; nevertheless, it will do its part to prevent the mechanization of terms of speech that once were important, and to maintain intact the best part of its original content in a more rigid framework. "While the formulæ remain, the meanings may at any time revive," says John Stuart Mill in his magnificent chapter in the "System of Logic" on the pre-requisites of a philosophical language. "To common minds only that portion of the meaning is in each generation suggested of which that generation possesses the counterpart in its own habitual experience. But the words and propositions are ready to suggest to any mind duly prepared the remainder of the meaning." This pronouncement outlines a research project, the execution of which would constitute the achievement of a comprehensive characterology. (SW 4 p. 236)

135. On the Delusion of "Progress". The greatest sage living ten thousand years ago, and who passed through all of the earth’s prehistoric tribes, could not have calculated that after so many centuries or millennia the historical process would be initiated in one or another of them. In fact, no sage of classical antiquity predicted the Christian process, which had, in fact, already commenced with Socrates. If we were acquainted with western man only, then, however profoundly we examined the conflict of spirit and soul within him, we could never derive the Indian species of the same conflict, still less its manifestations in the cultures of the far east; for, without experience, we could not be acquainted with the vitality of the far east. Those who imagine that the study of the customs and especially the history of mankind enables them to predict a series of concrete manifestations, should foretell for our benefit what would be the appearance of buildings, costumes, and languages three thousand years into the future; or let them predict the direction of change of these and other crystallizations of human nature just thirty years ahead. If they cannot do these things, or if they consistently miss the mark, let them confess to themselves at least that, misled by erroneous and shoddy notions spawned by a delusive belief in "progress," they have undertaken an impossible task. For we know of no "progress" other than that which results in complete dissolution and final destruction, in so far as things continue on the straight course down which "civilized" humanity has been racing since 1789 at an ever-accelerating pace. Likewise, we know nothing of the capacity of life to generate new formations, nor do we understand life’s "emergency reserves." We know of no clearer manner of formulating this view than by borrowing the phraseology of science, and stating that it is necessary to become acquainted biologically with the notion that at certain stages of a living series new forces emerge whose development cannot be forecast from previous forms. (SW 4 pp. 238-9)

136. On Resistance to Expression. Every animal, and man in particular, has an interest in not revealing certain mental processes. A man in love seeks to conceal that love in public, a shy man his shyness, an ambitious man his ambition, an envious man his envy, a jealous man his jealousy, etc. Many will do more than hide their true inclination, and they will seek to simulate the opposite, as we all do a thousand times semi-automatically when we treat a person, towards whom our sentiments are anything but friendly, with conventional acts of courtesy. Originally, all self-control served as self-protection. Now if we consider that man has been forced during innumerable centuries to practice self-control in order to preserve his life and well being intact, we would be forced to consider it to be a miracle if no organic resistance to expression had arisen within him.

We can discover countless prototypes of this resistance in the animal world. When many animals feign death if they imagine themselves to be in danger, this is no action, but a reaction that occurs necessarily, and which is rooted in the instinct for self-preservation; and it takes place at the expense of the fear that without a doubt possesses the animal and which might otherwise result in flight. But the technique of deception and the drill in maintaining a countenance received an intensification far beyond all such cases in the animal kingdom from the fact that man’s communal mode of living by prehistoric times had come under the dominion of cultic customs whose sphere of influence, diminishing progressively in historic epochs, was replaced by no milder set of ethical commands. An infraction of customs, and, at a later time, an infraction of ethical rules and a sense of right, resulted at the least in temporary or permanent exile from the community, and hence, among primitive peoples, in almost certain destruction; among civilized peoples, such an infraction would result in an ostracism that in extreme cases seems to have been hardly less fearful; to say nothing of the sanguinary side of criminal justice, which transcends any notion that an individual may have formed of hell itself. If it could be determined with dynamometrical precision whether men fear more the loss of life or the loss of reputation, we might discover quite a few slaves of their honor, who would be ready, if necessary, to risk their lives in order to preserve it. Many soldiers have found the courage required to face a storm of bullets only through the dread of being tainted by an imputation of cowardice.

We arrive at the root of the matter when we consider that the need for self-esteem, which is omnipotent in man, was necessarily fused with the demands of the community. Thus, from prehistoric times, man cultivated his peculiar sense of honor, which fundamentally distinguishes him from the rest of the animal kingdom. (SW 4 pp. 315-6)

137. Nature of Consciousness I. Death only attains to being as the correlative of life. Where there is no contemplation, there can be no distinguishing between the living and the dead. (RR p. 299)

138. Nature of Consciousness II. Destiny is never housed within the individual; high above the tragedy of the past stands the poet and his deeper necessity. Every philosophy that holds the individual’s suffering as the weightiest matter, that recognizes the overriding importance of purposes and aims, is merely physics; such a philosophy is not admitted to the forecourt of true understanding. Thought and transient existence are inferior things, shadows of actualities. But whence the shadow and whence the slag of the primeval fire? What is the meaning and origin of our conceptual consciousness? (RR p. 247)

139. Nature of Consciousness III. The real presences in the soul are not feelings, but images. Feelings are attendant phenomena of the coming to consciousness of psychical processes that become more weighty as matter attains to independent existence. Consciousness recognizes no qualitative distinction between the simplest act of observation and the strongest affect. On the contrary, the sober soul can manifest itself in the simplest display. So it was for the "childhood"-phase of spirit; with the maturation of spirit, it is no longer the case. We err when we ascribe the feeling of the "rush" to the Mycenaean epoch. Homer knew it not, and even in our fairy tales we find ourselves witnessing the violation of the soul. Those who must break through the defensive bastions of consciousness in order to renew the powers of life, will experience the authentic immersion in the force of the rush. (RR p. 247)

140. Nature of Consciousness IV. A platitude holds that ignorance increases as one accumulates possessions. Nevertheless, all thought occurs as restraint. For this reason, negative decisions—as in matters of taste—are more significant than the positive ones. Whatever our mouths shout most loudly will unfailingly be found to occupy the smallest area of our inner world. The "idea" represents stress, and not the [Heraclitean] flux. The man who summons the troops to battle is seldom a warrior, for orators tend to avoid combat. Within the true expert, there flows an unconscious stream of life; within the intellectual, on the other hand, one finds only pipe-dreams and ideas. (RR p.301)

141. Body and Soul. To "de-body" and to "de-soul" are one and the same thing. The body is the soul, or at the very least its womanly half. (RR p. 343)

142. Volition. From the standpoint of biology, every volition presupposes the existence of a binding force within the stream of the soul. (RR p. 478)

143. World and Experience. That which we call the world, or, with more advanced reflection, the outer world, could never be experienced, still less could it be known, as that which it is without its alien character; and if Goethe is right when he declares

The eye could never see the sun,

If it had not a sun-like nature,

then it is no less true that seeing and shining are as certainly and as fundamentally separate as it is that they must, in spite of this, be cognate. Accordingly, when we said that originally man rediscovers himself in the external world, this means precisely that he finds, by means of self-mirroring, the significance of the content of an intuited image, i.e., one that is alien to himself, and therefore immediately different from him, e.g., in the quantitative aspect. We immediately take the next step, however much it may seem to turn us from our goal. The saying that tradition has handed down to us from earliest times, that "astonishment is the beginning of all philosophy," announces with epigrammatic brevity the indispensable truth that it is precisely the unexpected (that which is dissimilar to the content of an explanation) which is pre-eminently fitted to stimulate reflection and, perhaps, to prepare it for discoveries; and the whole history of thought is there to demonstrate this truth. In a special sense, a fresh understanding of an alien character is invariably due to the fact that some animal or man did on some occasion behave in an essentially different manner from that which would have corresponded to our instinctive assumptions. (SW 4 pp. 209-10)

144. On Schopenhauer. "The World is my Representation!" But how do I go about employing a representation to create that which our philosopher, with such a parade of reasons, has utterly failed to demonstrate: the world?! (RR p. 360)

145. The Polarity of Life. Life comprises the polarity of centripetal and centrifugal forces: this constitutes the true meaning of the terms wandering and fixed. Sometimes it entails conflict, as in the strife between the Amazonian element and the established-maternal one. Sometimes it is restricted to the ring forged by the sacred triad; at other times the pursuing elements embrace the incandescent horizon of the world. (RR p. 271)

146. Mechanism and Metaphysics. Mechanistic materialization can never be metaphysical. Whoever takes a balloon-flight into the atmosphere, does not merge himself with the elements, as does the soul of the wanderer who communes with the clouds whilst his conscious body yet abides upon the soil of the earth. Herein lies the launching-point for the comprehension of a myriad mysteries: the far. (RR p. 305)

147. Types of Knowledge. There is a knowledge that kills and a knowledge that awakens. The first can be seen in the verbal jugglery of our intellectuals; the second blossoms in the dithyrambic creativity of the poet and the visionary. As has been said of the latter type, he lives his life to the full as long as he inhabits the earth. He renews himself as if by a perpetual series of rebirths. The other sort is merely the mummified ash-heap of a once-living fire, the fossilized relic of a perished substance. His knowledge does produce mechanized results, but as he manipulates his carcasses, he speaks as if this dead matter were yet among the living. One sees with horror how he deludes himself into believing that he finds life only within his clockwork mechanisms. (RR p. 309)

148. Historical Model. Threefold model: the primordial-sleepwalking state in which decision and volition…have not yet been sundered; perhaps the best word for this stage would be plant-like; the second stage is the magical, during the course of which the priestly caste emerges. The third stage is the mechanized, which is dominated by deed, work, and science. (RR p.311)

149. Sanctity. Sanctity is always a symptom of physical pathology. The Christian saint: he has the look of a stage hypnotist, and his head is encircled by a faded ring! (RR p. 300)

150. Concept and Life. In every profound human countenance we see the traces of fear, horror, and sorrow. Modern man can reach no further with his concepts than he can with his experience. Everywhere life is without depth and dread, and all modern art is hollow. No man of depth can comprehend himself conceptually. Life is mystical. Life can never be frozen into rigid concepts. (RR p. 301)

151. Weeping Life. Symbol of the highest rapture: the tear that bursts forth uncontrollably; the tear that "overflows" the eye. (RR p. 302)

152. The Western World. Light and sound are the contrary poles of life. Sound binds the soul to the body, forming an essence that is proof against the opposition of the masses. Light is bodiless soul, eternal rest, and timeless being: Nirvana.—Light is Asia, sound is the West. Mediating between the two poles: color and ardor; they also mediate between Greece and Rome (RR p. 302)

153. Primordial Images and Mechanization. The primordial images live; this also means: they are powerful enough to ensure that no chance conceptual scheme will ever imprison them; it means also that they can incinerate with the eyes of the sun, all those who would even attempt such a thing. On the other hand, nihilistic reason confuses the signs that accompany the inclusion of the primordial images with the content of this process; reason then beholds—instead of the image—a shape without substance. (RR p. 307)

154. Rome and Germania. In the substantial sense there is no "will to power." What has been falsely called by that name is actually the will to expansion. Rome’s expansion was its will to power, and, to a certain extent, Rome’s expansion manifested its egoism and self-interest. Rome’s nature could not be approached, and it could never be conveyed beyond her borders because she demanded that everything had to be transported into Rome. The Roman will subjugated and wrecked all of her neighbors. The Germanic tribes arrived upon the scene too late, and that simple fact has decided the very destiny of the West. The Germans, the only people who had never known the meaning of the word "no," entered an already finished world. (RR p. 313)

155. The Language of the Oracles. The future reveals itself only in images and symbols…But images and symbols communicate manifold meanings, and therefore they are often misunderstood. The history of the ancient world is replete with instances of falsely interpreted oracles.—The nature of the oracle is profoundly akin to that of poetry. (RR p. 317)

156. Sapphic Wisdom. Sappho prohibited all dirges and lamentations. This is how I interpret that fact: she prohibited the self-denial of the individual. The individual possesses the same abstract reality [Realitaet] as can be found in the conceptual generality. Only in the instant can there occur an unbounded actuality [Wirklichkeit]. (RR p. 317)

157. The Time of the Dead. The time of the year when ghostly visitations occur is just before the onset of spring. The Greeks believed that the dead then strove to step once more into the light. (RR p. 318)

158. The Nature of Space. The feeling for distance of the Romantics was the soul’s awakening. Space is the visibility of the unified stream and its living resonance; the soul is itself the very tone of space. The Romantics’ gazing into spatial distance constitutes a form of clairvoyance. In magical displays also, the far remains receptive to every near. (RR p. 320)

159. Priests and Schoolmasters. In Christianity, the priest conquered western mankind; in Socratism, this role was performed for us by the schoolmaster. That the Germans even now cannot relinquish Platonism is a consequence of the schoolmaster’s spirit, in which Platonism has been planted so deeply. The priest gathers about him all the downcast natures. He attempts to elevate his flock by poisoning life itself. The schoolmaster gathers about him those who are vitally impoverished, upon whom he bestows an ersatz "rationality." In this way he empties life of its substance. (RR p. 346)

160. On the Wisdom of Life. Commandments are always delivered first as prohibitions; eventually they receive an affirmative formulation. (RR p. 350)

161. On Connections I. The door to the room, towards which I gaze attentively, is referred to me, although I am not really connected with it; if, on the other hand, my wrist and the door knob were to be joined by a length of tape, I would then be connected with the door, regardless of whether I contemplated the door in question, or conjured up another within my imagination. The doorknob and the chair could be linked as well, although this connection would entail no relation. In order for me to conceive of the moon, I must first experience its light, and this is the case whether or not I am consciously aware of the fact. However, the moon is not influenced by the astronomer who scrutinizes her image. This applies to every object of perception in relation to the process of perception. (SW 2 p. 1143)

162. On Connections II. Whenever we find examples of connections that bind physical entities together, we always discover the mutuality of those connections. If I tug at the tape [that joins my wrist to the door knob], there occurs simultaneously the act of pulling at the tape and the effect that my action exerts upon the object with which the tape connects me. There is a marked difference between the aspect of an island as the sail boat approaches it, and its aspect as the sailor sets his foot on the island’s shore. But in this case, only the bearer of perception can draw this distinction; the island cannot, of course, perceive the alteration of perspective, and the only evidence that any connection ever existed might be the sailor’s footprints in the sands. (SW 2 p. 1143)

163. On Connections and Relations. 1. Connection is not relation.

2. Connections are inconceivable without reciprocal influences; relation does not entail influence.

3. Every connection is real; every relation is mental.

4. Connections are experienced directly, but cannot be comprehended; relations are comprehended, but cannot be directly experienced.

5. Connections are grounded in the actualities of the spatio-temporal continuum; relations are governed by spirit, which is outside the spatio-temporal continuum. 

6. Connections can occur without a cumulative series of relational steps; relations are never found without pre-requisite connections.

7. In order for a relation to occur, connections must be dissolved. (SW 2 p. 1144)

164. The General and the Particular. The expressions "the tree existing absolutely" and "this particular tree in this particular place" are utterly unconnected, although there is a relationship between the general term and the particular. Thus, there is a relationship between the term and the object, but neither term nor object can be inferred from each other. The most penetrating critical sense runs aground when it attempts to derive the relationship of the terms from that of the objects; or, to reverse the direction of apprehension, to derive the relationship of the objects from that of the terms. The unavailing vehemence with which Plato attempted the latter procedure—and the attempts of his successors have fared no better than those of their master—has created difficulties for western philosophy throughout its history, for by utilizing thought’s access to connections, Plato converted thinking into appropriating. 

There are individual natures as well as elementary souls, which permit meaning to arise through the medium of their phenomenal appearance, without whose secret working power the very idea of connection would be restricted to the precincts of the "other world" of space. General terms can be applied to particular cases, since the meaning of the name, from which the concept is segregated, is, as it were, the promissory note of an essence, for which the boundary in question does not exist.

To the extent that the non-conceptual meaning concerns phenomenal characters, the area in which such entities operate already exists within them. It is only with the separation of the nature of the tree from the appearance of the tree, that the phenomenal tree can be distinguished from the noumenal; henceforth, conceptual relations usurp the place of real connections. The ground of their connection no longer lies within, nor can it be recovered once the entity has been stripped down to the status of a concept. That lost ground is: actuality. (SW 2 p. 1145)

165. Relation and Pattern. The error that arises when we confuse real connections with merely conceptual relationships in representational forms, on which all remaining forms and cases equally depend, is the gradual, ceaseless disempowerment of the name that is promoted by the "logocentric" school of thought, during its 3,500 year quest to consummate the destruction of thought. Logocentric thought always pronounces its verdict in favor of the alleged reality of the concept or of the fact. In order to be able to preserve its faith in the reality of things, "naturalism" bases itself upon an unconscious (or conscious!) acceptance of the unification of name and concept through the agency of the thing.

In order to maintain its faith in the reality of concepts, "idealism" unconsciously (or consciously!) insists on the unification of name and thing through the agency of the concept …

The following facts are easily comprehended: as mere noumena, concept and thing are related to each other, although they are not connected. The concept never relinquishes its nature, but the thing can so relinquish its nature, but only to the extent that it is visibly represented, since appearances that attain to the act of representation have the images at their disposal…There is a more spiritual act of apprehension, through which the fact and its concept arise together, i.e., in the act of will by which the name-meaning is severed from the name’s conceptual sign. We may have an intuitive grasp of meaning, and we are free to choose any number of examples of such a grasp from the history of the sciences. Could we completely detach ourselves from the intuition of meaning (any attempt would certainly fail), then the name would have no more authentic connection than does a property label, a trade mark, a publisher’s insignia, an "ex libris," or a badge of rank. This is, perhaps, an exaggeration, but it contains a measure of truth.

Assuming that the foregoing is true, we can easily show that both the "materialist" and "idealist" are willing to employ the idea of relations, in spite of the fact that they are unable rationally to account for their procedure. The scheme employed by the "idealist" at least deals with genuine contents of perception; but he cannot tell us just how it is that a perception arises. He is likewise unable to inform us as to just what links the perception and the name…(SW 2 pp. 1149-50)

166. Thought and Symbol. In symbolical thinking, the substantial entity and its type are identical. Along with the particular bird that has been chosen as a sacrificial victim, every bird belonging to its species is sacrificed, and the body of god that is eaten in the form of the communion wafer is one and the same, regardless of the fact that each believer partakes of a discrete wafer. (SW 2 pp. 1145-6)

167. Similarity and Perception. The world of perception is originally like a mirror that reflects man’s image a thousand-fold, and therefore we must be on our guard all the more not to enter the blind alley of the so-called "projection" theory. In point of fact, that which we project into a phenomenon serves only to deceive, and only that which we correctly extract out of it serves the true interests of cognition. A lover returning from a happy encounter finds that all of the people whom he meets are more happy and more attractive than would ordinarily be the case: he has projected into them his own happiness and perfection, and has deceived himself just to this extent as to their real psychological disposition. Rightly considered, the phenomenon of "mirroring" shows us something utterly different. Essential cognition, or, more briefly, understanding, is possible only by virtue of some similarity between the perceiving self and the object of perception; as dissimilarity grows, understanding yields its place to a failure to understand, which at first is only felt, but later comes to be known (except in so far as by virtue of mere projection the gap is filled by misunderstanding). Hence, we cannot be immediately certain whether the "savage" adores stones, trees, and animals; nor can we be sure that, instead of having projected something non-existent, he does not rather manifest a deeper understanding than our own. For it may be that his vitality is more vegetative in proportion as he has less personality than we; in that case, his judgments, or rather his attitudes, would have arisen on the basis of greater similarity or closer kinship, and this would have expressed something about the nature of stones, trees, and animals—albeit in mythical language—to which we later men have no access, because we have alienated ourselves from the mythopoeic realm. (SW 4 p. 208)

168. Meaning and Image. It seems that no one desires to comprehend the powers that are really at work in our world; nevertheless, one can name them, and, assisting in this naming (or, as would have been the case in earlier times, in the creating of symbols, a subject that must remain beyond our purview in this place) are those persons who have suffered the violent attentions of those powers to such a degree as to enable the victims to "summon to their memory" the events in question. What is revealed here, as the very idiom betrays, is the name-meaning (or the language-content). However, the mode of expression must be altered when we employ language to communicate the images that embody our most profound experiences. (SW 2 p. 1146)

169. The Magic of the Images. Magic has always been essentially a magic of images, and of all the forms of image-magic, the most popular is the one that has long been known throughout the world as the charm, from whose influence, even today, hardly anyone is completely free. (SW 2 p. 1146)

170. The Names of Power I. For the ancient world, it was considered quite normal for even the most powerful of the gods to possess, in addition to their customary names, yet another name that had to be kept secret, for if anyone were to pronounce the secret name aloud, its very sound would annihilate the god. Ra, one of the highest gods in the Egyptian pantheon, announced to the world that he had summoned himself into existence merely by the act of pronouncing his secret name! Ra was eventually toppled from power when Isis tricked him into surrendering his secret name to the goddess. (SW 2 p. 1147)

171. The Names of Power II. The Islamic prophets who were in possession of the "great name" of their deity were powerful indeed. The name of Rome’s guardian divinity was maintained in strictest secrecy so that no enemy, by hearing the name pronounced, would be able press the god in question into the service of aliens who would thereby be enabled to seize control of Rome itself. (SW 2 p. 1147)

172. On Naming in Tribal Cultures. The phenomenon [of the "names of power] is encountered even today in a thousand shapes among the world’s primitive and semi-primitive tribal cultures. Parents need not look far afield when selecting a name for their newly born baby, for the name is actually chosen, after investigation, by a member of the hereditary priesthood. In many cases, the name may not be pronounced, because this action might endanger the welfare of the child, who is therefore given a second name; even at the burial-site the names of totems are found far more frequently than the names of individuals (Tylor). In addition, should the name of the deceased be spoken aloud, the dead person would return as a spectral vampire. In that event, the name of the deceased, along with all similar-sounding names, would become taboo. Researchers have examined in great detail the significance of these facts as they affect the development, and the rapidity of transformation, of tribal languages. (SW 2 p. 1147)

173. Word Magic. Certain parties have pretended to locate the source of the phenomenon that we call "inspiration" in unseen forces, because the identical demand when pronounced by one mouth achieves results, and when pronounced by another mouth issues in failure. However, this phenomenon is certainly caused by accessory circumstances, such as the style of expression, the appearance and bearing of the speaker, and the "atmosphere" that colors the environment. In addition, there might be (not must be!) "fluids" exercising an influence in such cases. The Romantics considered such fluids to be manifestations of "life-magnetism." (SW 2 

pp. 1147-8)

174. Word and Song. When we witness the effect of the printed word, whether in diplomatic communication, in parliamentary negotiation, or in the oratory of the demagogue, we realize that there is very little direct influence at work in these instances. In primordial ages, the true power of the word resided in the performances of singers…Even during historical times, a condemned felon could often sing his way out of the prison cell and, on occasion, he might even receive high honors in recognition of his vocal talents! (SW 2 p. 1148)

175. Love in the West. Only those of Germanic blood can understand the true depths of love. The Oriental is too sensuous, the man of antiquity too self-controlled. The Greeks understood the inwardness of love better than did the Romans; nevertheless, the Greeks imprisoned Eros within forms. Love, not as passion, but as the harmony pervading the entire being of two persons; love, as the deep joy in another; and love, as warmth of heart and complete and devoted intimacy: that kind of love is distinctively Germanic. In Germanic man also there appeared for the first time true tenderness, the marvelous third element issuing from the commingling of spirit and desire. Here is devotion without dissolution of the self, mildness without weakness, pity without cruelty.

The Germanic nature, that consummate blend of every earthly element, was then ensnared and seduced by the Nazarenes’ misuse of the word love… (RR p.249)

176. Western Summer, Western Winter. In summertime, the heavenly sky extends itself above our earth like a canopy. Palely gleaming stars are suspended from the shining dome, and the sickle moon dips low beneath the horizon. No longer do the colors that radiate distance blossom in the western twilight. Warm and bright are the streaming rains that soon shroud the heavens. Now everything belongs to Gaia. It is the time when she feasts upon heat, electricity, and light. The ardent sun is sinking into her maternal waters…The Heraclitean fire sets out on his voyage from the universe to the earth.

In wintertime, the depths of nocturnal space are stirred. Through the violet-black wilderness of darkness roll the images of the stars. The cold, twinkling whiteness of the moon seems somehow drab; and, lost in the universe between the shifting constellations, Gaia plummets into the eternal night. The slanting sun sinks through a distance that seems as if it had been drained of its blood. At the North Pole, the aurora borealis blazes brightly. So we see that the earth is but a reeling ball thrown into the Uranian abyss. And as earth’s fiery core thrusts outwards, the Heraclitean essence streams downwards. (RR p. 251)

177. Pagan Voices. Dark voices that speak out of the wind-tossed trees to the soul of the youth, voices sounding like noisy children sharing a cart that jolts across the nocturnal heath. O dark voices: no one fears you now. (RR p. 255)

178. Man and Earth. From the outset I choose the people that will be important to me based on my ability to view them as if they were fragments of the earth, as if they will be to me as soil, forest, cloud, rock, noble blood, smoldering summer, or spring breeze. Other sorts must remain outside the telluric round-dance, for they are anthropocentric, and, therefore, they themselves constitute the sickness that infects the earth. The Moloch’s belly in which these spiritually diseased characters house themselves is—the big city. (RR p. 256)

179. Eros of the Distance. The essence of all true love is: the Eros of the distance ([Alfred] Schuler). Love is the most profound strangeness, the utterly vexing riddle, the flaming vision approaching from unknown horizons, the eternal mystery. Love perishes when one removes the veil that conceals its secret. Yearning, which dreams of possession, is the essence of love. Nothing earthly can compare with our first thrilling encounter with the beloved…(RR p. 258)

180. From a Diary Entry. How do these people manage to thrust themselves between me and the universe?! (RR p. 265)

181. From Eros to Plato. With the advent of Eros at the second creation of the world, there also appeared a fresh danger for life. Erotic life is psychical, and psychical life is richer in woe and closer to death than is the life that yet remains within an incoherent chaos…The breakdown [of erotic life] took place in Greece. The same stream leads directly from Thracian Dionysus to Orphic Lesbos; but between Lesbos and Plato a great abyss has opened up. That which was formerly viewed as the release of demonic powers from the chains forged by things, has, in Plato, become the liberation of the transcendental ego from the bonds of the body. (RR p.268)

182. Life in the Individual; Life in the Stranger. The may be a peculiar strength in one who experiences only himself. His inner radiance may at times even cast the light outside him into deep shadow. Nevertheless, we often find that this is accompanied by limitation, weakness, and an excessive ardor that may eventually separate uch an individual from the totality and render him incapable of movement. How the universe is experienced by the individual means: how he participates in its eternal flux. This is the reason why we find authentic symbols of life in such kindred phenomena as high spirits, warmth, heat, love, respect, and devotion…Such phenomena arouse a pulsating current between ego and world. In willing and yearning, on the other hand, there is merely tension. (RR p. 316)

183. The Duality of Feelings. Every feeling bears its polar opposite within itself. The man who strives to amass power obviously wishes to enjoy the feeling of domination; but in order fully to understand the feeling of domination, he must at the same time understand the feeling of subjugation to another’s power. In every feeling, there is a striving from something here to something there. The first point and the last point determine the direction of the striving. (RR p. 331)

184. The Poison. From the outset, Christianity poured the poison of transcendence into the waters of the pagan underworld. (RR p. 290)

185. The Seven Basic Dispositions of Individual Life. First, the still undivided substance; second, the substance bifurcates into the life of matter and the life of spirit; third, the substance with a ruling direction towards spirit; fourth, the substance with a ruling direction towards matter; fifth, an insubstantiality joining matter and spirit; sixth, insubstantial matter; and, seventh, insubstantial spirit. (RR p. 481)

186. On the Doctrine of Life. The metaphysics of life rests upon three pillars: life is eternal distance (symbolized by the wheel); life is the panta rhei (symbolized by the flood; and life is image (symbolized by the mirror). (RR p. 295)

187. On Melchior Palágyi. We would be hard-pressed to improve upon Palágyi’s monumental proposition: "The one source from which springs every possible human error is to be found in our seeing the spiritual in what is actually living, and in seeing living substance in what is merely spiritual." Scornful of both "rationalism" and "sensualism," from the outset he centered his research upon the separation and distinction of spirit from life. He, and nobody else, re-discovered the natural-scientific theory of life (also called "neo-vitalism"), which he first elaborated as a counter-position to every possible theory of spirit. He banished the drab twilight of so-called "epistemology" with the penetrating clarity of his research into the underlying grounds that render consciousness possible. (SW 3 p. 741)

188. The Legacy of Paganism. The pagan urn is shattered; war has raged around the shards, and the fragments have been scattered to the winds. Now the vampire of mankind, the Jew, appears on the scene. He knows not the meaning of this urn, and he certainly cannot restore it to its original condition. But he is aware, of course, that it represents a priceless treasure. So he makes off with the melancholy and lovely fragments, which he then arrays in a gaudy, vulgar setting. It will end up adorning some Jewess. (RR p. 281)

189. Types of Anger. The anger of the Asian is black, that of the German is blue; the first appears uncanny, the second profound. Asiatic anger occurs sporadically, either in silence or accompanied by the most inhuman screams; he stabs, he impales, he crucifies, he gluts himself with cruelty and torture, before he kills. The angry German is like a tempest of crushing blows, he is convulsed by a roaring frenzy, and he will run out of steam only when everything within reach has been smashed to pieces—recall Thor and his hammer! (RR p. 286)

190. Thought and Spirit. Spirit is silent. Whenever a concept appears it is cloaked in the spoken word—there are no unspoken or non-symbolic concepts. The concept is akin to spirit in that both are alien to the world of images. Only when spirit is cast out of the body can radiance emerge into the visible realm; only in the mediated element will spirit become thought and, finally, concept. (RR p. 286)

191. Essence. The essence is the garb of the cosmic fire; the process comprises its inner assimilation and elimination through the individual nature; and its road leads from the universe into the ego. The inner accumulation of the essence occurs through the sensuous satisfaction of intense passion. The cell performs the essential work of assimilation, and its symbols are the hearth, the site of the nurturing fire; the house, the family vault, the crypt, the catacombs: in brief, everything maternal. The cell is cosmic in so far as it divides its substance, and allows its life to stream outwards. (RR p. 250)

192. Symbols. False doctrines are the culprits that first instilled the poison of mistrust and unbelief into the gentle, weary souls of the Hellenes, and ever since that time the gallows and the torture-rack have stood as the threatening symbols before the gates of life. (RR p. 243)

193. Cosmic Flame. There is a profound difference between the yellow flame and the livid blue one, as there is between the naphtha-flame and the lightning, or between the will-o’-the-wisp and St. Elmo’s fire. This is the opposition between essence and void, between the body pulsing with blood and the astral body, between earthly and celestial fire, between phlogiston and aether, between the hot flame and the cold. Out of the union of aether and gravity arose the essence-as-body. Christianity was the process of separating aether from gravity, light from heat, celestial body from telluric body. Christianity turned the ancient gods into sorcerers and spooks. (RR p. 244) 

194. The Rush of Intoxication. Only during highly cultured epochs can Eros be experienced as the rush. Certainly, the constant intoxication that characterize "primitive" cultures differs profoundly from the second degree of intoxication, which is felt to be an overwhelming, turbulent, and shattering invasion of consciousness. (RR p. 245)

195. The German Tragedy. Germany did not take her soul from the integral Cosmos, but she did take her disposition from a half-strangled one: the fractured lines of its mediæval style, the fruitless struggle of her thinkers with the object, and the gigantism of her modern cities. On the other hand, one can discover the darkly groping, pulsating side of her cosmic soul in Germany’s villages, in her isolated farmsteads, and—most of all—upon her moorlands. (RR p. 254)

196. Epic Artistry. The genuine artist does not traffic in fictions. The daemonic powers that he sings, speaks, or forms, are there. In plastic embodiment the wave is image and event.—The cosmic epic poet reunites that which has been sundered: the epic world-poem to the "ardor of the eye." He steps out of the modern age and spins the golden threads of the eternal flux. A god and a lightning-bolt will not suffice—the entire history of the gods must unfold before his gaze. (RR p. 254)

197. The Poet and the Man of Action. We are not men of action; we are not obligated to lay siege to forbidden realms. We live in accord with the necessities of nature, we struggle in accord with the necessities of the day. Our blood may beat against the stars, but it spills itself fruitlessly in the dust of the gutter.

The man of action pays no heed to chatter about obstacles in his path; he sees only ever-new objectives that he must conquer. He is aroused by opposition, since he anticipates the intoxication of conquering his foes.

The dreamer and the man of action will always be opposites. (RR p. 254)

198. On the Artist. Work is act and act is spirit. Art is an activity and, hence, derives from spirit. The artist may become an eccentric individualist with a gigantic ego, but he remains bound to the heart of the earth. We employ two criteria in estimating his artistic power: the quantum of artistic fire that he has summoned from the earth, and the extent to which he has distanced himself from mediocrity. (RR p. 257)

199. Through Life. After endless searching, one trembles to discover: the painted exterior of things, their meaning and nature. Through a transparent veil one sees a second world that becomes a metaphysical reality. Causes and effects constitute a puppet-show for the blindness of our thought. Behind it all, however, there is the living universe, stirred by the beating wings of the gods: I experience it in the storms of youth, I lose it during the age of temptation, I comprehend it in the autumn of my thought. (RR p. 255)

200. The Nature of the Poet. Although the poet remains an individual, he remains still an aspect of the cosmic flux: he is animal, star, sea, plant; he is the eye of the elements; he is matriarchal and earthly to the core. The praxis by which he expresses his inner vision is magic (RR p. 261)
 201. Jean Paul [Richter]. Jean Paul is a texture, not a structure. (RR p. 307)

202. On Dualities. One duality is that of subject and object. The growing emancipation of the object is intertwined with the weakening of the instincts.—The duality of body and soul is a completely different matter, however. The origin of this duality lies in sexuality, and it intensifies with the division between the sexes, until, finally, our species is split into two halves. The first symptom of consciousness: that man differentiates between himself and his sexual organs and, thus, between his higher and his lower drives. (RR p. 303)

203. False Symbols. What could be an emptier production than the Symbolists’ anthropocentric interpretation of the cosmos, or their compulsion to dress up ugly bodies in the vacant remnants of life! The whole Symbolist racket is a usurpation of the throne by the spawn of bankers. It began with excessive ornamentation, and with such excesses it will end. First: you build your house. Second: you hang up your tapestries. Then Stefan George moves in. (RR p. 304)

204. Mechanistic and Magical Philosophy. Magic is the praxis of our philosophy, and our philosophy is the theory of magic. The philosophy that is taught by the professors is invariably mechanistic, and the attendant praxis is always mechanical.—Magical philosophy repudiates the thesis of identity; consequently, it repudiates unity, thing, duration, repetition, and mathematics. My philosophy also repudiates concept and causation, for causation is the theoretical parallel to the logical nexus.—Magical philosophy works with images and symbols, and its method is that of analogy.—The most important names here are: element, substance, principle, daemon, cosmos, microcosm, macrocosm, essence, image, primal-image, whirlpool, orb, and fire.—Its ultimate formulas are incantations that have all of the power of magic at their disposal. (RR p. 312)

205. Love and the Far. We love what is strange, but only to the extent that we glimpse within it the person that we once were in the most rapturous moments of youth, or in a superhuman, or even a godlike, previous life. All love is Eros of the distance. (RR p. 289)

206. Downfall. The ancient world shattered the primordial order of things when it imprisoned the dæmonic matriarchal powers in the chthonic depths and elevated the daylight masculine world of spirit to supreme power. (RR p. 290)

207. On Bachofen as "the greatest literary experience". In Bachofen we have to recognize perhaps the greatest interpreter of that primordial mentality, in comparison with the cultic and mythic manifestations of which, all later religious beliefs and doctrines appear as mere reductions and distortions. ("Appreciation" [Würdigung] in Bachofen, J. J. 1925. Versuch über die Gräbersymbolik der Alten [ed. C. A. Bernoulli] pp. x-xi. Helbing und Lichterhahn, Basel, 1925)

208. On the "Mortuary Symbolism" of J. J. Bachofen. I rank this book among the supreme spiritual achievements in the history of mankind. For more than twenty-five years, I have found in Bachofen the man who has guided the course of my life. (LK GL p. 225)

209. Bachofen’s Greatest Achievement. It was J. J. Bachofen who, in his two masterworks "Mother Right" and "Mortuary Symbolism" (along with the scarcely less important "The Lycians" and "The Myth of Tanaquil"), was able for the first time successfully to interpret the entire pre-history of the West from the standpoint of the battle between "matriarchy" and "patriarchy." (SW 3 p. 494)

210. Bachofen’s Duality. The matriarchal and the hetairic principles. The first is fixed. tribal, established, and traditional. The second is wandering, solitary, hostile to all settled modes of association. The first, by necessity, experiences the eternal and encompassing destiny that governs all happenings.—The second lives with doom and the annihilation of all at the hands of death. The disentangling of these antitheses can reveal a higher unity than may be apparent amid all the struggle and destruction. So, the settled-matriarchal principle struggles against the wandering-hetairic principle. The transformation into morality occurs steadily; it happens more effortlessly for the fixed principle than for the wandering one. (RR p. 312)

211. The Work. Whatever within us becomes embodied in our work, no longer belongs to us. The insight, the work of art, and the deed must henceforth live only for themselves. (RR p. 300)

212. Time and the Primordial. As against the customary notion of time, primordial time incarnates the primal flux. Whatever has been immersed within this flux will shine with the aura of the elemental and the eternal. Death first came to those born in the primordial world not as the result of a great flood that somehow severed modern man’s ties with the primal order: that task was performed by the invasion of the world by the void known as "transcendence."

That "transcendence" severs subject from object and body from soul, just as it rends the body of time. One half of time foists upon us that false "eternity," which, in truth, is an "always" that is forever outside the temporal dimension; whilst the other half is divorced from the spatial dimension. In this way, space is stripped of its soul, and time is stripped of its body. (RR p. 351)

213. "Monism." All of historical mankind has been raised in the philosophy of "monism." The belief in the laws of causality, and in legality generally, is monistic. All thinking activity is monistic…The monistic philosophy easily explains the origins of all of the world’s religions, the distinctive qualities of human societies, the causal laws that govern our dream-life, etc. And every one of us is infected by this madness! (RR p. 351)

214. On Hysteria. The hysterical person lives within his dreams, day and night, and he is powerless and lifeless throughout his waking hours. One peculiar manifestation: his sexual life, because it is devoid of Eros, is compelled to produce disturbances in his conscious mind as well as in his body…His life, as it were, belongs to dreams that have no basis in perception, and, thus, his life belongs to phantoms. He can only be released in one of two ways: through the destruction of his dream world, or through his entry into the real world. The task of the therapist should be to realize the Eros of the hysterical character. (RR p. 357)

215. On the Achievement of C. G. Carus. Today we live in an age of joyless haste, an age that more or less shatters everything in its savage maelstrom. Faint of heart, and scarcely comprehending what we see, we stand before such an abundantly fruitful life as that of Carus, a life that required no monastic seclusion, a life that resembled a gigantic tree that shoots out branches on all sides without degenerating. We may remind ourselves at this time of similar monuments of the past, and we understand clearly that the gains accruing to our power-crazed rulers must infallibly entail heavy losses in the soul and in creativity! (AC p. 310)

216. The Pelasgian State of Mind. Just as no one can determine precisely how much of the story of the Trojan War as it is told to us in the Iliad, along with its prologue and sequel, is founded upon strict factuality, so no one can determine precisely how much of that which we are told by the ancient writers about the "Pelasgian World" is founded upon strict factuality. However, even were historical criticism to demonstrate conclusively that the Pelasgians existed only in legendary lore, one thing would still be established beyond the shadow of a doubt: that the "Pelasgian" state of mind, among other things also found in the myths, belongs to the irreducible facts of prehistory. Just as according to our doctrine of the "actuality of the images" every individual, as well as every cultural period, participates in the world-image through the image-shaping powers of the soul, we must, therefore, establish every manifestation of man’s inner life within the realm of facts in order to understand the world-image and, with it, the religious beliefs of those whom we are studying…Indeed, without a knowledge of such inner realities and their formal operations, we cannot understand even the brute facts of ages to which scholarship has applied the prejudicial epithet "historical." (SW 2 p. 1251)

217. War and the State. Man has existed in an uninterrupted state of war ever since the first state was founded, and the horror of warfare has grown along with the growth of the powers of the state, regardless of whether a particular war is waged between states, races, classes, vocations, sects, or discrete groups within the state. Obviously, the bellum omnium contra omnes ("the war of all against all") is not something that characterizes the state of nature, for it is only since man has taken up residence within the state that he has waged that endless series of wars that constitutes "world-history." Hegel was quite correct when he said that the spirit could only realize its potential within the state; but Nietzsche was also correct, from a different perspective, in saying that he found in spirit the "will to power," and in saying that the state was the "coldest of all cold monsters." (AG p. 177) 

218. The Machine. The English "Deists," led by Sir Isaac Newton, that master of the mechanistic apocalypse, openly proclaimed that the world must have had a divine origin, since it so obviously possesses the character of a purposeful machine (recall that Kant was still impressed by the so-called physico-theological proof of the existence of God!).

We know of no better way to illustrate the appalling unnaturalness of our apostles of political and moralistic "progress," who are so intoxicated by the pseudo-life of the machine, than to adduce two words of wisdom which were attributed to Tchuangtse, and which encapsulate more than two millennia of Chinese philosophical culture: A conceited traveler sees a gardener in a trench drawing buckets of water with which he is irrigating his plot of vegetables; the traveler advises the gardener to invest in a machine that will do his work for him. The gardener laughs and says: "This I have heard from my teacher: the cunning have tools and show their cunning in business, and those who are cunning in business have cunning in their hearts, and those who have cunning in their hearts cannot remain pure and uncorrupted, and those who do not remain pure and uncorrupted are restless in spirit, and those who are restless in spirit are those in whom the Tao can find no dwelling-place. It’s not that I do not understand the tools of which you speak. It’s just that I would be ashamed to use them." The other anecdote goes as follows: The spirit of the clouds asks the whirlpool why everything upon the earth has ended up in such a disordered state. The whirlpool answers: "That the order of the world is shattered, that the conditions of life are thrown into confusion, that the will of heaven is without effect, that the animals of the field are driven away, that birds screech in the night, that mildew rots the trees and the plants, that destruction overwhelms everything that crawls upon the earth: all that is the fault of government." (AG pp. 181-2)

219. The "Tuist" (Opposite Pole to the "Egoist"). The relationship of the "tuist" to his fellow man constitutes the most essential part of his life. From the outset he make his position clear to his associates and he lives in a conscious sense only for others. What he means to them is decisive for him: he will be loved or he will rule. Passionate desire alternates with tyrannical will. His personal feelings are revealed in all of his actions, and so he will show the greatest interest only in those sorts of activities that provide him with the opportunity to take a personal part in the arrangements. He inclines to artistic and quasi-artistic vocations; should he devote himself to science, his decision would result from deep needs arising out of his personal ambition. In addition, he will occasionally devote his efforts to political life, the public welfare, and economic conditions; then we get the propagandist, the world-improver, and the prophet. He is not in the least indifferent to outward appearances, and when he gets the opportunity he will indulge in theatrical behavior. In many ways, his bearing resembles that of a woman. The typical woman is always a "tuist." (SW 4 p.4)

220. On the Progress-Philistine. Listen to him chattering about how far "we" have come, how wonderful is the time in which "we" live, and how delightful are the gadgets that are available to "us"…Everything that he says sounds like the babbling of a carnival conjuror; everything that he says reveals the utter impotence of his spirit! (SW 2 p. 1543)

221. Apollo’s Cult. The cult of Apollo is the cult of the beautiful. This phenomenon occurred only once, if we are not mistaken, i.e., in Greece; it lasted for a mere three centuries; and no other people and no other time has managed to achieve anything like it—not even the "Renaissance"—although the yearning for the Greek ideal of beauty has persisted down to our own time. (AC p. 382)

222. Wilhelm Jordan and Schopenhauer. From our earliest days we have delighted in the poet Jordan’s essay "Encounters with Schopenhauer," which was published in the collection entitled "Letters and Lectures." All those who admire Schopenhauer (and all Schopenhauer scholars as well) will profit from the reading of this dazzling memoir, which, along with many verbatim transcriptions of Schopenhauer’s speech, provides us with the most perceptive portrayal of the person and the life of the thinker. The author also recounts discussions that took place when Schopenhauer and Jordan were joined by Friedrich Hebbel! (AC p. 385)

223. The Manifold Voices of Goethe. Occasionally we hear of certain similarities between Nietzsche and Schiller. We admit that it is always possible to establish connections between the works of important authors. Thus, it is true that both Schiller and Nietzsche consistently employed dramatic rhetoric (although the differences between the characteristic rhetoric of the two men are enormous); it is also true that everything that the two men wrote reveals a consummate mastery of style. Now we ordinarily think of a stylist as one whose language possesses an unprecedented force and unity. But there is another approach to this matter of style: Goethe’s. Goethe’s narrative prose in "Werther"—which is well-nigh incomparable—deviates perceptibly from the narrative prose of the "Elective Affinities"; and his deftly controlled speech in the Füllest wieder Busch und Tal and Mignon’s Lied deviates sharply from that of the Diwan or Faust II. (AC p. 388)

224. Morality. Moralistic activity, properly speaking, is reactivity. Only instinct that attains to consciousness is truly productive. Likewise, the nothingness that is the ego possesses the drive to permanence and the "will to power." (RR p. 300)

225. The function of the will is to convert everything into thought. (RR p. 300)

226. Consciousness and Life. The ultimate depth is naïve; it is the immediate, instinctual now. Whatever is completely alive cannot comprehend its true nature. Every increase of consciousness entails an abandonment of life. (RR p. 300)

227. Dionysian Radiance. Dionysian man lives his dream-images. Rays of light stream forth from his soul into the world, and whoever wanders into his radiant sphere shines with his love. (RR p. 300) 

228. "Matter and Form". Spirit disintegrates substance into "Matter and Form." Birth alone is the primordial; birth alone is the cosmic substance [Hyla] itself, the primeval mother. The sculptor, however, seeks to ensnare the two halves of the duality [dyas], to re-unite matter and form. He is seized by an instinctual compulsion, and his spirit strives to revert to the primordial womb out of which substance emerged. But his aspiration is a fatal option, doomed to a perpetual perishing. (RR p. 309)

229. The Germanic Instinct. The instinct of other peoples is weak or non-existent; the German has instinct, but it is blind. On this account, he becomes the man of science, the man of firm convictions, the man of principles, the man who derives his steadfast faith in morality from books. He must remedy his lack of knowledge through study; he is compelled to surmount his insecurity of will through partisanship. (RR p. 339)

230. Science and Metaphysics. There has never been, nor will there ever be, a truly great scientist who is utterly devoid of metaphysics. And the scientist is never more deeply under the sway of his metaphysical presuppositions than when he is unaware of their very existence. (SW 6 p.539)

231. Faith and Doubt. Knowledge does not arise from faith, but from doubt, i.e., the very negation of faith. (RR p. 352)

232. "Idealism" and "Realism". For those students who find the technical philosophical terms in current use to be somewhat alien, but who are somewhat better acquainted with the various warring "isms" of the day, we will, for obvious psychological purposes, simplify somewhat the various points of view at issue by arranging the diverse schools of thought under the two headings of "idealism" and "realism." On the side of "idealism" we have: rationalism, criticism, subjectivism, "logical positivism," "fictionalism," "solipsism," etc.; on the side of "realism" we place: "sensualism," "empiricism," "atomism," "materialism," etc. The representatives of "idealism" always claim that they understand the inner life—and even life itself!—from the standpoint of spirit; the representatives of "realism" are equally certain that they understand these things by examining impressions and experiences and, ultimately, being. But since spirit and being are intimately connected as subject and object, the opposition between the two groups of "isms" is utterly irrelevant (except, that is, for those who insist on rehashing empty controversies regarding the existence—or non-existence—of "innate ideas"). (AC p. 384)

233. The Sentimental Egoist. There is one type of egoism that we will call "the egoism of the sentimental." The egoism of the sentimental person manifests itself most blatantly in an overwhelming desire to be loved. Such persons are usually contented with their worldly wealth and status; but when it comes to affairs of the heart, they will reveal an extreme pretentiousness. Quite often they will be driven by a dangerous compulsion to rely excessively on others, a condition that can develop into species of psychical vampirism that can suck the life out of those to whom they have attached themselves. The reactive manifestation of this egoism is a capacity for intense jealousy. (AC p.377)

234. The Dionysian. The body is the day-pole of the inner life, or the center of vision and appearance. When perception governs, the dream-image must, perforce, fade away. Not only the spirit, but the body as well, stands in opposition to the untrammeled growth of the soul. For that reason, the authentic expression of Dionysian ecstasy is the rending of the god’s body. (RR p. 288)

235. Romanticism and Polarity. The Romantics distinguished between the day-pole and the night-pole of the soul. This distinction pointed to the polar relationship between the dreaming and the waking states of consciousness. In the night-pole, instinct, yearning, clairvoyance, telepathy, sooth-saying, dream, poetry, art, and magic have their roots; in the day-pole, we locate thinking and willing. The night-pole bespeaks woman, left, night, moon, and ganglion; the day-pole bespeaks man, law, day, and the brain. But what the Romantics were unable to clarify is the central capacity of the night-pole: the gift of vision, out of which, as from an ocean, emerges a primal flux, an unending stream of influences and impressions…(RR p. 288)

236. Day and Night. In day-consciousness we perceive, but in night-consciousness we experience visions. Only into day-consciousness could the a-cosmic spirit erupt. (RR p. 289)

237. Rococo as "Virtual Reality" (virtuelle Realität) [Written in 1913]. Rococo has the virtual reality of a mirror image, the mere appearance; every sound, scent, and shimmering light of its landscape is the reflection of a mask. (RR p. 292)

238. So-Called "Synthetic Thought". Every so-called synthesis of thought arises from the impulse to revive distinctions that analysis has already enforced, and thus, this impulse is only one more expression of the monistic compulsion to force the vital manifold into the unity demanded by spirit. (RR 364)

239. The Wisdom of the Romantics. Although the Romantics were not completely free of logocentric errors, the bright atmosphere of their soul-born wisdom shone more deeply into the nocturnal depths of the cosmos than the efforts of all previous mystics; it is, above all, the Heraclitean concept of polarity which enabled these vibrant spirits to clarify not merely the millennial traditions of myths and symbols: the Romantics also sought to undermine the threat of an arrogant materialism by their employment of the alkahest ["universal solvent"] of the soul. When, therefore, the Romantics utilized the magnetic electric pole as an illustrative example in their speculations, we must not forget that the discovery of this type of polarity, which was credited to Volta, although it actually belongs to Ritter, was, in fact, a Romantic achievement. (SW 2 p. 890)

240. Germanic Romanticism. Romanticism flourished in the Germanic world, and only in that world. Romanticism reached its highest peaks, and sent its roots most deeply into the earth, in Germany…We must always bear in mind that the greatest achievement of the Romantics was to embrace every field of the spirit, and especially the philosophy of nature, within its charmed circle. There was a Romantic astronomy, physics, chemistry, mineralogy, geology, palæontology, botany, zoology, osteology, physiology, medicine, pharmacology, and even, to a certain extent, a Romantic mathematics. Now what has any of that to do with "foreign" influences? (SW 2 pp. 888-9)

241. Goethe and the Romantics. Literary Romanticism began with the Sturm und Drang of the late 18th Century. Romantic entries—along with other material of the most superficial quality—can be found in Heinse, Herder, and Hamann, as well as in all of the vitalistic nature-philosophy of the period. On the other hand, there appears even in Goethe’s universalism a component that is recognizably Romantic, and of which he was most certainly aware, for this component had a profound impact on more than one Romantic philosopher of nature; it would one day function as the guiding principle of C. G. Carus’s world-view. Goethe was always impressed by the concept of the primal phenomenon, a concept that enabled Goethe to direct his scientific attention not to primal things, but to primal images. In opposition to the mechanistic philosophy of nature, and to rigid explanatory schemes in general, it was the living content of the perceived entity that pre-occupied Goethe; his worldly sensuality enabled him to focus upon the visually grasped images, to which his words of truth always referred. No doubt, he was interested in every aspect of nature, but his studies always led him back to that which he had "perceived through the senses." His studies of nature, he says elsewhere, rested "on a purely experiential basis"; and in the Sprüchen in Prosa occurs the following brilliant proposition which, at one stroke, shatters the idealistic errors of the millennia: "People seek only nothingness behind phenomena: for the phenomena themselves are the theory!" (SW 2 p. 889)

242. The Arrogance of Rationalism. The modern disciple of the faith in the omnipotence of reason can hardly restrain his joy as he babbles into our ears his conviction that he now possesses a logic of the "unconscious"! (SW 1 p. 231)

243. Literature and the Pathic Soul. Peer Gynt, Ibsen’s great creation, although not purely poetic, certainly unfolds the shifting panorama of a thoroughly pathic approach to life. The characters whose psychical abysses are illumined by Dostoyevsky are, without exception, pathics, who go marching straight to doom. Here we have everything that the student of sick souls could possibly desire: from the "flight" into the night of forgetfulness, through the "twilight condition," to the "split personality," unconscious behavioral tactics, somnambulism, and seeming acts of unsurpassed purposefulness, without—or even against—the will of the actor.

One example: Raskolnikov [in "Crime and Punishment"], shortly after his murderous rampage, staggers around his city, utterly without purpose—or so he thinks—driven by hostility to all human associations. "Every encounter aroused his loathing, the faces of people were as abhorrent as their gestures and their movements…When he arrived at the quay of the Neva on Vasilievsky island, he stood upon the bridge. ‘Here’s where he lives, in this very house,’ thought Raskolnikov, ‘but I have not come here of my own accord to Rasumichin!’"…Who can read this chapter through without being struck by its precise rendering of "post-hypnotic suggestion"? (SW 1 p. 233)

244. On the Heraclitean Flux. Just as the Eleatics had discovered being, it was Heraclitus who discovered actuality, which he renders in the world-renowned formula: "All things are in flux" [panta rhei]; the flux is the very essence of the world, or, in other words, the world is a happening without a substrate. Heraclitus is not, however, content merely to theorize about the eternal stream, for he also discovers in the world-process the phenomenon of rhythm; in other words, he is the discoverer of polarity. With the aid of that concept, he clarifies the semblance of existence [Dasein] of that which endures as analogous to what we today would call "stationary equilibrium," i.e., the equilibrium of two contra-directed processes.

For Heraclitus, everything is alive. To him both the living and the dead truly live. Both the living and the dead are but formal manifestations of the primordial life of the world itself. And here we encounter a discovery which distinguishes the speculations of this outstanding philosopher from those of all previous thinkers: the idea that individual life, as the form of arrested, or deficient, life—which takes the "road upwards" to attain to dissolution—can, on the other hand, lead to the highest liberation and to the greatest vital plenitude as well. Thus, death appears as a liberation to a loftier form of cosmic life, as opposed to a temporally-restricted organic existence [Dasein]. Furthermore, sleep as the mediating transition to death, can be seen as a prototype of a fulfilled vitality…Hitherto, the doctrine of Heraclitus has been seen as emerging "all of a piece," and this doctrine is, admittedly, the most profound of all philosophical systems. Sadly, however, even this philosopher of cosmic life went off the rails when he dragged in his regrettable theory of the logos…which he calls an ordering, rationalizing, regulating power, a "law" decreed by the transcendent ruler "Zeus." And this is not just the misuse of a word! (SW 6 pp. XVII-XVIII)

245. Character and Ideals. The common viewpoint that holds that we can derive a person’s ideals from his character, stands opposed to the conviction that a person prefers and seeks precisely that which he does not possess; without a doubt, the second viewpoint holds the greater measure of truth. The gentlest woman desires a man who is courageous, strong, and heroic (and vice versa); the poet who delights in the narration of orgies worthy of Messalina, is often found to be living on bread and water in an attic chamber; and a scholar of genius like Mommsen, who scrutinizes the deeds of great statesmen with the most rigorous and critical acumen, is himself the most superficial and mediocre politician on the planet. (SW 6 p. 28)

246. Pious Ideals. With "good intentions," pious wishes," and enduring illusions, we arrive at those abstractions that determine the limits of the outer, as well as the inner, life. Ideals are undoubtedly elements of character, but they are elements torn from natural connections of every sort, and for that reason they are divorced from the facts…Man’s ideals clearly reveal how rich he is: in poverty. (SW 6 pp. 28-9)

247. Spirit and its Manifestations. The spirit, as it functions in modern scientific research, is only one division—or, more correctly, one phenomenal manifestation—of the identical spirit that has ripened into the modern state and modern capitalism. (SW 1 p. 128)

248. Nihilism. "Panlogism," Kantianism, and Sensualism: they are but three varieties of one and the same nihilism, three modes, or methods, whereby an invading force from outside the cosmos annihilates the cosmos of images. (SW 1 p. 173)

249. The "Last of the Mohicans". The hour of reaction has been missed; there are those among us whose passionate love of life has made them see just how wretched the world has become: we are the "last of the Mohicans." Whoever still has it in him to express a wish, must wish for one thing above all: that the consummately vile mankind of today may drown, die, disappear as soon as possible, along with his wretched arsenal of murder, so that once again the forests may resound with the roar of purifying and self-renewing winds. (SW 1 p. 768)

250. Philosophical Confusion. The Eleatics were guilty of confusing actuality with being; however, the logician manifests an even greater confusion when he mistakes actuality for truth. The logician is led by his Parmenidean impulse to the most arrogant of all errors when he equates actuality itself with the mere thought of actuality. There are no independent "propositions-in-themselves," such as Bolzano desired, just as there are no "truths-in-themselves," such as his modern acolytes craved. Within the thinking consciousness of the individual there are neither truths nor propositions, but only fleeting manifestations of inconceivable happenings. (SW 1 p. 86)

251. "Psychology" and "Epistemology" ["Theory of Cognition"]. Basically, everything that our professors insist on calling "psychology" is an unavowed "epistemology," just as the so-called "epistemology" of the professors could, with equal justice, call itself "psychology." The whole matter shall not have been devoid of a certain humorous flavor should the discussion ultimately come to focus upon the question as to where, in fact, the precise boundary between the two disciplines is to be drawn. (SW 1 p. 218)

252. The Limits of Education. The individual’s capacity to acquire education is governed by natural limitations, and no amount of study will enable him to transcend those limitations. One can discern the intellectual capacity of a person, but one can never increase that capacity any more than one can transform a talentless person into a great musician or sculptor. These considerations also apply to the capacities of different races. (SW 6 p. 663)

253. Language Precedes Concepts. The child can already speak and understand his native language by the age of one, without employing concepts. Prehistoric man spoke and understood speech for untold thousands of decades without ever having utilized a single concept. It is not mankind as such, but solely historical mankind who announces his arrival when he discovers the first concept. Concepts could only be formulated for the first time when the meanings of words had already been established. (SW 6 pp. 657-8)

254. On Eugen Dühring’s Contribution. Dühring, above all other modern thinkers, is to be thanked for drawing our attention to the profound significance of the Eleatics. He is to be thanked as well for the unsurpassed clarity and sharpness of his demolition, in his "Critical History of Philosophy," of the arguments of the Eleatics…which he achieves by means of a fundamental critique of the concept of infinity that certainly deserves the highest praise. (SW 1 p. 51)

255. Eros Cosmogonos. There can be no doubt that the triumph of the spiritual and personal gods over the chthonic and elemental divinities was achieved in the Ionic cities on the hither-Asiatic seacoast long before the Greek motherland was affected. Thus, we should not hope to find in Homer any very pronounced indications regarding prehistoric religiosity. We must, in fact, seek the signs of the earlier beliefs, in part, in Hesiod, and also, in part, in the heritage of the sects and mystery-cults, which, out of the struggle of various strata of Greek religiosity, were able to precipitate the flood-tide of Dionysian worship that extended from the 8th century B.C.E. to the 6th century…Now in Hesiod, although he scarcely mentions Eros, we certainly come upon the god, although the poet’s Eros is not strictly cosmogonos; the Hesiodic Eros, the "most beautiful of all the immortal gods," joins Gaia and the antecedent pre-polar Chaos to constitute the primordially creative Triad out of which issue all earthly happenings. The idea of Eros as cosmogonos is definitively achieved in the mythic teachings of the Orphic sect; for our purposes, the most important doctrine of the Orphics tells of how Chronos, "never-aging time," fashioned the silver world-egg out of the æther and the unfathomable void. From this world-egg there emerges the shining god Phanes-Eros-Dionysos (also called Metis and Erikapaios); this is Eros the hermaphrodite divinity, the god who bears within him the seeds of all the other gods. (SW 3 p. 376)

256. The Body of Love. Love may be aroused by the visible, discrete attributes or characteristics of another person: by beautiful or unique hands, feet, body-type, shape of the neck, nose, complexion, scent. The preference for blonde hair or for dark, for blue eyes or for brown, may even indicate…that the natural predilections of an individual arise, in large part, from racial considerations. (SW 3 p. 365)

257. The Death of the Ego. The "wise man," as Goethe has told us, yearns for a death in flames, for only he understands that before the gates of life can be opened, the ego must first be slain. (SW 3 394)

258. Forms of Love. The "materialist" desires to possess and master man and all of man’s powers. He "loves" dependability and so-called character. 

Christ saw himself as being near the center of things; he searched for God; and his most profound yearning was that he might merge himself with "higher things." He craves the outside and the up-there, and when he loves, his sentiment is aimed in just those directions. 

Eros, on the other hand, is the love of creation. For Eros, the boundless universe is alive. A flood of shimmering light breaks forth. The entire environment glows, the distance resounds: the beloved becomes a flame afar. (RR p. 264)

259. Images. Images plunge into the mysterious darkness; they drift into a magical distance. Images are never impoverished, never permanent, never to be seized in a coarse grip; a joyous spectacle blazes up, and then it sinks into the night. (RR p. 272)

260. The Veil of Maya. The 19th Century, more than any previous one, set out to tear the "Veil of Maya" asunder. With sacrilegious inquisitiveness, it probed into everything that exists: the darkness of the void, the metallic sheen of distant oceans, the wondrous song of the atmosphere, and the sublime gloom of temple and cathedral. Its reality…was merely a shield of lies behind which it concealed its lust for destruction. (RR p. 272)

261. The Golden Age. Life’s gaze is always directed backwards, and where life is embodied in thought, its thought is always a contemplation of the return of vanished beings. Indeed, the collected legendry of the pagan world places all greatness, beauty, and radiance in a far-distant pre-historic world: this is the "Golden Age" of the heroic founders of noble clans. (RR p. 285)

262. On the Soul. The soul is the fulfilled vitality, the self-incinerating flame. That which limits and constricts itself in the waking state, becomes, in sleep, a bottomless sea.

Matter (Hyla) is the sleep of the soul. Its waking has the actuality of the dream: shining images glide past, and then they plunge again into the darkness.

The ocean is the symbol of the universal soul, and the ocean’s phosphorescence manifests its highest vitality. Profound life blossoms only within the womb of night, and the ocean glows only nocturnally. Life is the self-rolling wheel, the perpetuum mobile, the mill wheel through which the waters of time must pass. (RR p. 262)

263. Anima Rerum. Lightning is the soul of the landscape just as the shimmer is the soul of the crystal, the scent is the soul of the flower, and the eye is the soul of the animal; man is even more eye than is the animal, and the world in him becomes more image. (RR p. 263)

264. Romanticism and the Soul. The Romantic period was wandering and exploratory, just as our own time is. Strangeness, distance, the thrill of life and the threat of storm, rapture, emotional transport, yearning for the stars: many names for the self-same essence, which is the soul. (RR p. 259)

265. The Gorgon and the Night. There are three vital perspectives: the erotic, the heroic, and the magical. In the world of images these types are manifest as: the beloved, the hero, and the wizard. My own experience was magical (to a chaotic extreme); it was the Gorgon and the dread of universal night. I tried to approach Eros through love…But before the metallic night could extend its cloak over the house of love, love’s home sank into the earthly morass. (RR p. 261)

266. Elemental Nature. The elemental is not a striving towards the animal condition. It is something that is beyond man and, at the same time, close to the realm of the plants. (RR p. 261)

267. Lenau and Meyer. The two most highly endowed Dionysian poets of the 19th Century, Lenau and Conrad Ferdinand Meyer, led—one buried in his books, the other in tobacco smoke and violin music—the most secluded lives imaginable. (SW 3 p. 400)

268. Spirit and Soul. Only when spirit sleeps does the soul awaken. Spirit sleeps most deeply when the senses slumber. But even in the waking state there is a sleep of the spirit. In every act there are moments when spirit nods and the soul opens wide its eyes. Ever richer is our life at the moments when spirit passes through the realm of sleep. Then we are more profoundly alive, as each moment passes into the next. At such times, our eyes shine…(RR p. 264)

269. The Symbolism of the Wheel. The polarities that constitute life were once symbolized by the wheel. We see this clearly in the myth of Ixion, where sometimes the head is above, and sometimes it is below…All of life is, in fact, polarized: we have an under and an over, a black side and a white, an ending and a beginning, and so forth. Polarities are revealed between rising and falling, between birth and death, and between the fixed and the wandering. Indeed, we may even see in the wheel the tragic symbol of the cosmogonic Eros. (RR p. 330) 

270. Thought and Image. Thought is the medium of philosophy, the handmaiden of poetry, and the elevating background of art. In the absence of thought, only the primordial image endures intact, for in the image a more profound incandescence consumes the cold light of empirical observation. The primordial images are like weighty gold or crimson enamel, whereas thoughts are like penetrating flames or lightning reflexes.

The contemporary world knows nothing of authentic images or genuine thought. Its art is without background, without atmosphere, vapid; its poetry is unfinished, harsh, arid, and destitute, or it is gaudy and absurd; and its philosophy is but an asthmatic critique. (RR p. 284) 

271. On the Creators of the "Folk Song". For many reasons, we regard the expression "the folk song" as somewhat ambiguous, since the implication of the phrase is that its creators have been drawn exclusively from the lower classes. However, genuine folk songs have also been crafted by aristocrats and even by kings. The superb poetic ballads of Scandinavia, for instance, were largely the product of knightly and courtly circles, and these ballads are certainly authentic "folk songs"! (AC pp. 199-200)

272. The Wheel of Life. Ceaselessly, the moment sinks into the past: the wheel of life is turned by death. Ceaselessly, the past darkens the purple dome of the fleeing moment: out of the realm of Hades springs the flower of Persephone. (RR p. 270)

273. The Eros of the Distance. In a mystical rotation, all that passes returns unto the night of birth. Earth drinks up the rains shed by water-born clouds, and, as the rain-drop enters the sea, so, without ceasing, dies the daylight of the present into the darkness of the past. Just as the world is girdled by the Mitgard Serpent, so all that transpires is bound by the pulsating wave of the cosmic sea; and that which appears in the raging storm that hurls itself against chimney and tower outside, becomes the protective heat of the hearth-fire within. As if collected within an urn, it becomes that blood-glow of Eros that already stirs within the animal; it dreams within its blood. Unfettered, it becomes the Wild Hunt. But it is also revealed in the sweet dawning of that dazzling distance, wherein a wild darkness joins forces with alluring lamentations from afar. The crossing of gold and gloom as inseparable twilight: Eros of the Distance. (RR p. 271)

274. Inner Drive and Outer Expression. Every driving-force is at the same time a disposition of the body; and alongside every activity of a drive there occurs a physiological, physiognomical transformation of the body. (AC p. 16)

275. Paradox. Shame is the dread that one feels before the prospect of one’s true self being exposed. Thus, shame is, without a doubt, to be classed with those emotions that are ordinarily called egotistical. (AC p. 17)

276. The Wise Man and his Wisdom. No sage has ever lived his life according to his wisdom: in the truly wise man, his wisdom is the philosophical expression of his life. What we call "self mastery" is always but one specific mode of the momentary preponderance of a single impulse. Obviously, there can be no authentic mastery over our passions, any more than there can be a genuine "freedom of the will." (AC p. 17)

277. On Cruelty. Cruelty belongs to the most "forbidden" elements of the affective life. We can scarcely pronounce the word cruelty without arousing in the listener a dark, and therefore so much more intensely felt, loathing for that train of phantoms that our long religious training of the heart has clothed with flesh and blood. (We can best clarify our thoughts regarding these difficult matters by consulting the works of the great German thinkers of the 19th century.)

But as to how matters stand in the real world, we must understand that the yearning for violence and suffering belongs not to "man in general," but solely to historical man. Let us recall—without shutting our eyes, if you please—the gladiatorial combat of the Romans, the naïve maliciousness of so many children, and the Spaniard’s delight in the bullfight. In addition, however, we must not ignore the ingredient of cruelty in the pleasure that people derive from attending a great theatrical tragedy; in the breathless anticipation with which so many people listen to chronicles of atrocities that transpired in far distant ages and cultures; in the love of scandal and gossip; in the everyday amusement that some experience in the misfortunes of others; in truculence and "braggadocio"; in the longing to make an "impression" on the world; and in the great delight that so many people take in witnessing the downfall and disgrace of their fellow man. (AC pp. 17-18)

278. Christian Lust for Self-Torture. The major achievement of Christianity was in relocating the arena within which man conducts his operations from the world outside of man to the landscape of the human soul within…The admitted cruelty of the ancient world was then forced to don the guise of the contrite penitent. Antiquity took what was perhaps an excessive pleasure in battle and death; but the self-same lust has characterized the entire Christian era as well, although the Christian has sought to hide his suicidal impulses behind such masks as self-flagellation and asceticism. (AC p. 18)

279. Judgment and World. Our critical judgment cannot perceive red, blue, or any color whatsoever in general; nor can our judgment perceive sounds, tastes, musical key-signatures, thirst or hunger in themselves; our judgment cannot perceive discrete feelings of hope, yearning, expectation, and so on. What our judgments of the world can achieve is this: the perception of the manifold of qualities, both internal and external, that enable us to distinguish one thing from another. (SW 3 P. 721)

280. Back to the Romantics! We live in an age when empirical science and its monuments are overrated. A mere knowledge of the facts in the case now passes for something substantial. Certainly, a well-founded science should perform its operations with the aid of just such facts as are necessary to prove its theories. Everything else is useless ballast. Originally, this method was fitting and proper when considered against the background of a reaction against the debauchery of the Naturphilosophie of the early 19th Century. But today there is no longer any need for such a negative viewpoint. The ceaseless defamation of speculative ideas now permits fashionable writers to ignore even the uncontested advances that Schelling, Oken, and others contributed to the advancement of science. It is high time that we recall the achievements of the Romantics, so that we may cease traveling down the path of an obtuse "induction." (LK GL p. 147)

281. Science and Metaphysics. Science is not a matter of collecting facts, but of asking the right questions. The history of science demonstrates this quite clearly. It also shows that the truly great discoverers always achieved their crucial results with the aid of speculation (the data upon which they based their theories was often quite limited)…Think of a Dalton, of a Robert Mayer, of an Avogadro. These are the three great names of their age in our own field of study, and all three strikingly bear out the truth of our contention. And, nota bene, all three were forced to live their creative lives in mortal combat with their contemporaries! (LK GL p. 148) 

282. From "Manly Loyalty" to "Homosexuality". The attempt to saturate the sexual instinct with the erotic essence has often resulted in the downfall of the lovers; on the other hand, the contrary attempt—to sever the instinct from the essence—has led and still leads initially to the poisoning of Eros, and ultimately to its death. Here we must emphasize the fact that displays of sympathy are oftentimes more profound between members of the same sex than between man and woman. The eternal icon here is the Dioscuri [the mythological twins Castor and Pollux]; this sympathetic bond celebrates its highest festival in honoring friendship as much as it honors affection…When we recall the "manly loyalty" of the ancient Germans, we also summon to our mind’s eye the original "manly affection" of the ancient Greeks, which likewise had scarcely anything in common with contemporary "homosexuality." The Greek sentiment first began to degenerate as a result of the evil entanglement of the impulse to heterosexual union with a banal love of boys…The Eros of the West stands under the sign of "Blood-brotherhood," of which the "sacred league" of the Thebans is perhaps the best world-historical example. (SW 3 pp. 406-7)

283. Nature and Soul. In spite of all of the idle chatter about "progress," there are still prophetic souls who draw our attention to the implications of the indubitable increase of man’s mastery (alas! along with man’s destruction) of nature. But even these prophets have not devoted sufficient attention to the simultaneous and equally blatant assaults on the values of the soul! (SW 3 p. 654)

284. From Things to Images. Although to our human senses it might seem to be merely a promise of bliss, we receive much more when we drink our fill from the beaker that is offered to us by the Eros of the distance, which releases us from the tangible world of things, and transports us to the ungraspable actuality of the images! (SW 3 p. 412)

285. Back to the Pre-Socratics! The student who immerses himself, lovingly and intelligently, in the symbolic language of the pre-Socratics, must unfailingly conclude that no succeeding age—and especially not that of the pretentious twin-peaks of Hellenic wisdom, Plato and Aristotle!—has matched the profundity and panoramic scope of those dazzling philosophical ruins that we continually visit in our quest for wisdom: Thales, Anaximander, Heraclitus, Empedokles, and Pythagoras are their names. The least that can be said of these giants is that they were well on the way to the discovery that an authentic interpretation of the world must entail a doctrine of life. They also understood that the mechanistic aspect of reality should be reduced to the status of an insignificant by-product of the living world. (SW 3 p. 654) 

286. In a Nutshell. Our position is that the primal Trias, from which every authentic triad has descended, ordains that body and soul are the poles of life; into the substance of man—more precisely, into man as he rides the wave-crest of "World History"—there irrupts a force from outside the spatio-temporal realm (acosmic). That force is named spirit, and spirit’s mission is to sever the poles of body and soul and thereby to murder the living substance of man. (SW 3 p. 565)

287. Terminus. The spiritual will to conquest is the ultimate offense against life, and the offender must be prepared to endure life’s harsh retaliation in consequence. This proposition will remain in force so long as mankind exists, and it will have demonstrated the full horror of its ultimate implications when a degenerate mankind finally evolves into a completely rationalized and desecrated counterfeit of life. (SW 3 p. 479)

288. Sex and Eros. We can liken sex to the harsh light of a glowing electric wire. Eros, however, is more like the intense and frosty shimmer of opalescent glass…Erotic vitality resembles an elegant lamp that discharges its radiance symmetrically throughout one’s entire study. (SW 3 p. 490)

289. God as Suicide. For two thousand years the Christian religion, with its hatred of the world, has found its symbol of life in the self-crucifixion of the creator of that world! (SW 3 p. 481)

290. The Great Achievement. It was Aristotle who first realized that the pure, i.e., functioning—albeit not suffering—spirit (nous) is an entity that has irrupted into the cosmos from outside the cosmos: we most emphatically endorse this formulation. (SW 3 p. 736)

291. Actuality and Experience. Actuality is experienced, but truth is thought that is based upon experience. That which we contemplate conceptually is not actuality; but the conceptual dimension can aid us in our efforts to comprehend that actuality. (SW 3 589)

292. The Mystic and the Eros of the Distance. Human drives are blessed by Eros to the extent that they participate in the cosmic Eros; and cosmic Eros is always: Eros of the distance. Thus, whoever seeks to negate distance is characterized by a possessiveness that is fatal to Eros, to the glowing nimbus of the world, and, ultimately, to actuality itself.

Nevertheless, the real secret endures, as does the sacred wisdom of the mystic: the holy image is only revealed from afar, even as the mystic merges himself with his vision. The mystic alone sees "the sun aglow at midnight." (SW 3 p. 482)

293. Above and Below. The necessary counterpart of "salvation in heaven" is" hell on earth. (SW 3 p. 468)

294. Image and Symbol. The actuality of the image—the most intense (perhaps the only!) actuality to which we have access—is an eternal coming to be and passing away, a perpetual waxing and waning, the kindling as well as the extinguishing of the light. In sharp contrast to the time-bound rigidity of modern existence, the actuality of the image cannot be trapped in concepts. Instead, it communicates more and evermore to us through the language of the symbol. (SW 3 p. 469)

295. The Etiology of "Humanitarianism". Starting out from the time when a combative chorus of voices strove to determine who should rule the heathen tribes during the Germanic migrations, we end up today with the exaggeratedly sympathetic nature of the Nordic race, which we have to thank for the disastrous gift of a cloying "soul love" (as confusing and fatal as any gift could possibly be: because the combative chorus of the heathens degenerated through the collapse of the capacity to discriminate; then it became the perfectly achieved, universally tolerant harmonization. Tempted by Christian catchphrases, that tolerance became, in turn, exclusive passion, about which we still hear so much today. Ultimately, "soul love" transformed its substance into the destructive specter of universal "humanitarianism," which is, in fact, the murderer of love). (SW 3 p. 404)

296. Monist and Dualist. Whether we hold with the materialists that the ultimately "real" substances are atoms, or electrons, or protons; or with the idealists that the truly real is mere "being," spirit (logos), reason (nous), the "absolute," or the transcendental place that houses ideas or non-extensible monads, etc.: all of these viewpoints agree in situating the "real" beyond the world of phenomenal images, in comparison with which all of those candidates fade into oblivion. And it is no different in the merely apparent opposition of "dualism" and "monism," since behind the former’s "duality" there always lurks a pure "one," to which, at the end of the day, even the "dualist" feels compelled to grant the status of the ultimately "real." (SW 3 736)

297. Pseudo-Psychologists. Although they call themselves psychologists, our academics appear to us to be, in fact, epistemologists, for it is immediately apparent that their researches consistently deal with such matters as feelings, perceptions, representations, etc. They never seem to have pondered the fact that it is not consciousness alone—and without certain presuppositions regarding consciousness, all of their systems would immediately crumble to dust—but the "activity of the senses" as well that is subject to periodic alternations between existence and non-existence. They speak so dispassionately about a "stream of consciousness" where they should be studying the stream of life; what’s more, many of them are intrepid enough to draw the inexorable conclusion that there is a stream of sleep-consciousness as well.

Everyone laughs and considers himself entitled to ridicule as mere sophistries the doctrines of the Eleatics, who held that events were "deceptive illusions." But even serious thinkers today advance the view that perhaps our sleep-consciousness also merits the name of consciousness, without realizing that they have thereby plunged themselves into a counterpart of the Eleatics’ error. The Eleatics disavowed the continuity of events, on the grounds that this continuity was conceptually untenable (by reason of the discontinuity of comprehension); the other school affirms the continuity of consciousness inasmuch as, without it, one would be unable conceptually to grasp the continuity of events. Thus, one school avoids contact with actuality, while the other is divorced from the experience of actuality; fundamentally, however, both schools are united in assenting to the proposition that consciousness alone is the "true" reality! (SW 2 p. 804)

298. Dream and Pain. The dream-experience is an experience that is not susceptible to suffering. (SW 2 p. 809)

299. Vital Rhythm. The rhythm of life undoubtedly differs between one person and another; this is even more the case when we examine different races and species. (SW 2 p. 825)

300. Before the Altar of the Pelasgians. The illustrious historian Herodotus tells us that at Dodona he learned that the original inhabitants of Hellas, who were called the "Pelasgians," had certainly honored the gods and offered sacrifices to them, but they did not know their names, which were only later discovered by the Egyptians. After these divine names were recognized by the Oracle at Dodona, they were in due course transmitted to the Hellenes. What is the deeper implication of this account of Herodotus? Consider the following: for the Pelasgians, as for any similar people in the primordial phase of cultural development, all of the following entities possessed a sacred character—heaven, earth, the sea, the stream, the mountain, the tree, the soil, the animal, the stone, the rustling of the treetop, the moaning of the wind, the passing cloud, light and darkness, the fructifying rain, burning passion, sun and moon, the orbit of the star, the arrival of the seasons, morning and evening, brightness and darkness, the house, the herd, the kindling of the flame, the livestock and the harvest, the bath, drinking and eating, the nuptial feast, pregnancy and birth, the bond between parents and their children, dying, sleeping, dreaming, quarrel and atonement, promise and betrayal, coming to be and passing away, melancholy and joy, welfare and misfortune, longing and loathing, the blessing and the curse, guilt and revenge, health and sickness, high spirits, madness, and so very much more! (SW 5 p. 371)
  301. On the Ontological School. If the ontological school had been relentlessly serious in its attempt to develop a logicwithout a subject, then ontology itself, if we do not err, would have perished in the very hour of its birth! (SW 5 p. 369)

302. The Key to Spirit. In our metaphysics, we separate the life-cell from the spirit--that power from outside the world—and, with Nietzsche, we find the key to the nature of spirit not in the intellect, but in the will. (PEN p. 144)

303. Goethe on Passion. Goethe has no rival as the poet of passion and passionate love; but he permits his disciples of passion, almost without exception, to experience a tragic downfall: recall Werther, Clavigo, Eduard, Ottilie, Egmont, Tasso, Faust, Gretchen, Weislingen, and so on. He never wearies of assuring his readers that limitless passion results in misfortune. (SW 5 p. 228)

304. The Foolishness of "Pantheism". Pantheism, taken as literally as so many people appear to take it, is certainly the most idiotic of all the "isms" that have ever been concocted. According to this doctrine, the greatness of heroes is divine, the lying of the hypocrite is divine, the treachery of the plotter is divine, the malice of the slanderer is divine, the scent of the rose is divine, and even the stench of acetylene is divine! Now if the pantheist is utilizing such terms as "God," "Godhead," and "Godliness" as mere synonyms for being, then he would be well-advised to come right out and say so! (SW 5 p. 228)

305. Thought and Wisdom. The oldest wisdom of mankind was the possession and sole prerogative of woman, as we can see from the tales of the Pythia, the Sibyls, the priestesses of Ida, the swan-maidens, and the Valkyries. That which the unique disposition of woman has contributed to our attempts to discover wisdom is betrayed even now in the expression "mother wit" [Mutterwitz]. The exaggeratedly masculine West created a culture of thought, whereas the more feminine Asian world (China especially) gave birth to a culture of wisdom, whose most delicate bloom is Taoism. SW 5 pp. 221-2)

306. The "Mysterious Road". When Novalis contemplated the unique research conducted by the Romantics (which proceeded along the same lines as the research of Goethe, but which also went beyond it), and pronounced the strangely Sibyline sentence: "The mysterious road leads inward," he did not mean to say that, like someone staring at his own navel, we should focus our gaze upon our own person and away from the phenomenal world. He did mean to say that only through devotion to the world of images could the eye of spirit be opened, whereby it could perceive amid the appearances the soul to whom they appear; and in the same way it could perceive in the outer world the inner life that expresses its ever-changing vitality there. (SW 5 p. 234)

307. Tones and Noises. The science of acoustics treats of tones and tonal combinations; but in reality we never truly hear tones, but exclusively noises, since even the pure tone of the tuning fork can only strike the ear as does any other noise. Thus, language has no precise notation-system whereby it can denote tone-qualities in general, although language is indeed able to differentiate between innumerable noises: howling, rolling, roaring, booming, thundering, bellowing, cracking, clattering…and so forth. (SW 1 p. 180)

308. Image and Thing. The perceived image…constitutes an event; the thing figures in the event, but only as the unchanging fragment of duration inhering in that event. (SW 1 p. 181)

309. Time and Space, Images and Things. Events are species of happenings, and all happenings entail a spatio-temporal aspect. In the perceived image, whether it is seething and hissing, or only a fixed, linear array, the image comes to us as an immediately present spatio-temporal actuality, in which space and time are the connected poles, indivisible and without location, formed but without limit. Before things comes to us, on the other hand, space and time must be mediated by the connectedness of extra-spatio-temporal points existing in-themselves and for-themselves [an und für sich]. (SW 1 p. 181) 

310. Dead Things, Living Powers. In the world of things, whatever is moved necessarily receives that movement from without; thus, the thing is never self-moved. This insight may provide a hint as to why physics neglects, as it must, a consideration of the distinction between activity and passivity (just as geometry omits the distinction between right and left).

"Powers," on the other hand, initiate movement from within. Only they can act; only they can suffer. (SW p. 187)

311. Knowledge and Mortality. The consciousness of existence is one and the same with consciousness of mortality. We can acquire foreknowledge, but we can only purchase it at the price of our conscious anticipation of death. (SW 1 p. 448)

312. Formalism and Substantialism. Formalism rules physics, just as it rules the human sciences. The apparent successes that formalism can display have more or less enabled it to drive true science out of many areas of research. But formalism is debarred from one particular field: that of psychology and characterology! Here in fact we must walk upon the soil of experience. One can expel experience from formalistic thought, but formalistic thought cannot interpret experience!

Two types of thinking thus stand in an attitude of mortal enmity: the formalistic type, which claims to celebrate its supreme triumphs in mathematics—and finance; and substantial thought, which is on the verge of extinction, and which has its homeland, so to speak, in—the soul. Thus, I am one of the "last Mohicans" of substantial thought; [Melchior] Palágyi sought to introduce substantialism into physics; the attempt was doomed to failure. Physics will die—after the final paroxysms of technology—and it will die at the hands of relativistic formalism. (LK GL p. 1105)

313. The Death of Germany (From a Letter Written in 1947). An evil star reigns over this year. A great shadow has darkened my world since I learned on January 23rd of the death of my beloved sister, a death that was her final release from dreadful suffering. Her loss has been unendurable, and I see her death almost as an impersonal and tragic symbol of my dying homeland. Both of us had requested permission to say our sad farewells in person, since we both knew that delay would be fatal. In vain! The Allies are granting passports only to industrialists, known collaborators, and, finally, to those creatures who, in lieu of visas, brandish the slanderous diatribes that they have scribbled against the German people. (LK GL pp. 1361-2)

314. On Will as Servant of Life. The expressive potential in the formative movements of talented individuals is in sharp contrast with what we find in the merely mechanical movements of the willful, in whom spirit has released itself from its connection with the soul; and the expressive movements of the talented also differ from the restless, rhythmical motions that we find in primitive peoples, in that the talented individuals have been able masterfully to press the will into the service of life, so that even in the historical phase, the "head" spontaneously avows its adherence to the "heart," to the extent that it is energized by the pulsation of the heart. (SW 6 pp. 654-5)

315. On Expression-Research [Ausdruckskunde]. Expression-Research is the scientific discipline that investigates the psychical content [vom seelischen Gehalt] of the functional transformations occurring in the bodily constitution of man and animal. Among such transformations we have: the acceleration and the retardation of pulsatory and respiratory movements, the prolongation or the shortening of pulse-rate and respiratory-rate, the dilation and contraction of the pupils, changes in digestion, muscular spasms, the emission of sweat, and so on. Many of these phenomena can be satisfactorily investigated only within the controlled conditions of the experimental laboratory; others are readily visible in normal environments. Among the latter we have changes in pulse and respiration, blushing and becoming pale, and so on. Among the most visible and, therefore, the most easily dealt with conceptually, are the involuntary expressive movements. Basically, these movements pervade the entire body (along with other functional alterations). Joyous excitement can find expression in such phenomena as: the acceleration of the gait, the liveliness of the gestures, the raising of the voice, the lifting of the head, the easing of the facial musculature, the heightened gleam in the eyes, an elevated redness of the complexion (resulting from the distention of the blood-vessels), and so on. Then we have the contrasting group of expressions that accompany the condition of sadness (the relaxation of the muscles, bowed posture, the retardation of movement in general, increased pallor, and so on). Above all, this science has turned its attentions to the investigation of the expressive movements associated with the sentiments (rages, affects, emotions).

Among the host of researchers who were involved in expression-research in the latter half of the 19th Century (Duchenne, Gratiolet, Spencer, Bell, Mosso, Lehmann, Wundt, Lange, James), the two towering figures are Darwin and Piderit. It was Darwin who first established the essential equivalence of emotional expression in all of the human races, by means of an ingeniously designed questionnaire, which he distributed to 36 explorers, colonial officials, and missionaries. In addition, through careful observation of the behavior of a multitude of animals, Darwin demonstrated—at the very least—the comprehensive similarity that exists even between the expressive movements of man and those of the animal. He was, unfortunately, less successful in his theoretical forays. Here, Piderit was more effective, although he limited his investigations to the study of facial mimicry. These studies anticipated the most recent work in the field, which goes beyond an analysis of merely transitory conditions in order to arrive at a comprehensive study of the organism that produces the expressive movement. In our own publications, the author of these lines has transformed expression-theory into a comprehensive physiognomics of functional transformations. (SW 6 pp. 687-8)

316. The Symphonic Rhythms of Earth. Whoever attends to the great symphony of rhythms, sooner or later has occasion to observe that organic and cosmic tides constitute polarized forms of a rhythmical totality that corresponds to rhythms that occur in both the organic and the super-organic realms. At the very least we can affirm that our earth stands under the sign of an enduring pulsation. We think of the rhythm (never regular!) of the melting of winter’s snow, of the annual rhythm of rising and falling rivers, of the rhythm of commingling waters as springs pour forth their floods, of the rainy seasons in tropical regions, of the periodic fluctuation in the depth of the water-table, of the day-to-day periodicity of atmospheric pressure, temperature, humidity, and electrical conductivity, of the daily, yearly, and centennial rhythms of magnetic declination and inclination, of the monthly, biannual, and yearly periodicity of the polar aurora, of the periodicity of windless "doldrums," and so on. When we consider the rhythms in forms, it is impossible to ignore the fact that the rhythm (never regular!) of the oceanic tides provides an apt paradigm for a whole host of telluric formations. We recall sand dunes (both consolidated and shifting), the oceanic interior of continental deserts, the wave-like patterns formed by cirrus clouds, the wave-crests of mountain and mountain-chain.

Typical plant-forms recur in certain classes of animals as they do in the contours of the earth itself. Who can be unaware of the similarities between the rhythmical branching of the tree and the ramifying of the great river networks, or the tree-like ramification of the human nerve-centers! (SW 2 p. 827)

317. False Philosophers. Restless, rambling, enthusiastic spirits invariably lack the slightest trace of a profound originality. Their speculations either degenerate into a hollow species of rationalism, or they lead to a superficial game of wits that is played out with phantoms in which even they do not seriously believe.

From Plato to Hegel, the entire host of so-called philosophers can be divided into two camps: first, we have those half-sober, and therefore uncritical, phantom-mongers; and second, we have these arrogant hyper-rationalists, i.e., such fellows as are shallow enough to convince themselves that life is a rational phenomenon! (RR p. 346) 

318. The Two Styles of Art. When we avert our gaze from the almost demonic primitive modes of art (Egyptian, Assyrian, Aztec, Peruvian, and primitive), we realize that for us there are really only two types of art: the Apollonian-Ancient and the Gothic-Germanic. The first signifies the road to the appearances, while the second marches down the road to actions. (RR p. 329)

319. Loss of Meaning. How will we ever be able to elicit the full content of words that we can no longer really comprehend, such as the "will" of Schopenhauer, the "absolute" and the "infinite" of Schelling, the "a priori" of Kant, and the "pneuma" of the Gnostics?! In the strictest sense, philosophy has as little chance of being translated out of its tongue and its time as poetry has. (RR p. 365)

320. The Faith in the Images. We have access to countless examples of the faith in the images as it existed during pre-history in the surviving emblematic forms of non-conceptual, symbolic thought. We are able to arrange in a chronological series a great range of evidence: from the sagas and faiths, from the fetishes and magical practices, from the soothsaying and the superstitions, from sacred customs and celebrations, and, in brief, from the entire heritage of prehistory, to demonstrate the fact that life-bound spirit’s limitless creative variety—both in the degenerate and falling and in the healthy and perfect—is based upon the rule of the faith in images over the faith in the actuality of things; and this irrefutable fact enables us to understand, with a certitude that is beyond the reach of discursive consciousness, the following fundamental truths: the essential unity of the images with the active powers of the world in general; the essential unity of the images with each other according to the measure of their elementary similarities; the essential unity of specific images with their symbolic signs; and, finally, the essential unity of the image-receiving with the symbol-imparting, soul of man. (SW 2 pp. 1257-8)

321. Eternally Valid. The soulless lust for power of Rome was massively amplified by the surreptitious addition of the Jewish lust for power, and henceforth these two have magnified the empire of the papacy: The papacy is nothing but Judaised Caesarism. (SW 2 p. 1243)

322. The Body-Soul Unity. Just as the soul is the formative principle of the living body, so is the living body the phenomenon and revelation of the soul. (AC p. 304)

323. From Heroism to Modernity. The fate that befell the Indo-Europeans can immediately be comprehended when we look at the four "epic" peoples: the Indians, the Persians, the Greeks, and the Germans. In all of these cultures, the vital activity bifurcates into two forms of expression, i.e., the heroic and the poetic…Both were and are possible without the will to power, and the participation of these "epic" peoples in both modes of expression is recalled in the bloody battlefields filled with the shining deeds of heroic, self-sacrificing warriors, as well as in their artistic creations that are still bathed in the light of their poetic immortality.

But when the Indo-Europeans fell into the clutches of spirit, heroism degenerated into rationalism and technology. The Anglo-Saxon peoples stood in the vanguard of this disastrous development. Its pinnacle is reached in today’s Americanism.

Even among the Semites there was a people whose essential soul reveals certain affinities with the soul of the Indo-European: the Arabs, who, in certain limited areas, can be said to stand in polar contrast to the Indo-European peoples. Just as one can compare the Viking essence to the surge of the storm-tormented North Sea, one can similarly compare the essence of the Islamic Arab to a desert storm. Who knows whether Spain could have functioned as the connecting link in that wondrous synthesis of Eastern and Western actuality that the great Friedrich II Hohenstaufen had in mind, had Spain not already tied herself to that revolution which Nietzsche called the victorious "slave revolt in morality," which was brought about by the instilling of the spirit of Jahwistic Judaism in all the downtrodden dregs of the Roman Empire? The Jew Saul—"St. Paul"—made the great advance when he made the world safe for his beloved "spirit." And the spirit of Pauline Judaism is still around today, although it calls itself—Christendom. (SW 2 p. 1242)

324. Rome and Power. No one will dispute the greatness of the history of Rome. The inferiority of Rome to Greece in heroism and poetry can only be matched by Rome’s superiority in her unbridled will to power. (SW 2 pp. 1242-3) 

325. The West I. We can only understand alien races when we take the Germanic nature as normative; this direction of apprehension cannot be reversed.

The Oriental soul manifests a sickly exaltation and has nothing whatever in common with the force of soul that radiates from the audacious and mild luster of Germanic eyes.

Even the Greek soul differs from the Germanic. The Greek soul is weaker, more southern, more hermaphroditic, and more plastic. The Germanic soul is bolder, more Nordic, more masculine, more wandering, more profound, and more cosmic. Beauty has a more difficult birth in the Germanic realm than it has in the Greek, but the content housed in Germanic beauty is far more powerful. (RR p. 249) 

326. The West II. A profound abyss yawns between the priestly races and the heroic ones; the noble races also pray, but only to their heroes. Demonic powers inhabit these gigantic warriors, who scorn the spiritual devotion of the Catholic saints. The Aryans who conquered ancient India sprang from a heroic, primordial race, whereas the sanctity of the Indian priests originated in a purely Asiatic, "peasant" spirituality. But every peasantry is obviously gentler than an adventurous aristocracy. (RR p. 251) 

327. The Syrian Infection. Even before the advent of Christianity, the Romans had already succumbed to Stoicism, whose springs also arose in Syria. (RR p. 251)

328. The Western Nature. In the East, in the South, and also in the world of antiquity, color, light, "form," and vision rule the scene; in the western Germanic world, it is moderation, sound, and pleasing scents. The dense texture of actuality in its greatest breadth is also "Western." Its essence is heavier, harder, more metallic, and, in the work area, it is more pitiless, more formed, and more enduring. The hardness of the North is the hardness of metal, i.e., a supple hardness. The south-east has conquered us, however; and we still have not given birth to our authentic essence. (RR p. 311)

329. On Masters. The master has the power; he doesn’t have to seek it out. He binds and even alters the stream of power solely in the interests of life. (RR p. 293)

330. Symbolism. The unity of life is not individual, it is divine. It was only in later times that the gods first assumed the guise of individuals. This is made obvious in the allegorical interpretations concocted by an already partially mechanized mankind. The primordial microcosmic symbol is the swastika; animal symbols are also microcosmic. However, trees, monoliths, pyramids, sphinxes, and prehistoric grave-sites are all macrocosmic. (RR p. 317)

331. Politics. Among the pagans, only the Romans were able to develop the grand style in politics, and Rome perished because Roman politics, like the politics of our own age, finally succumbed to the contagion of Judah. And Judah’s politics is now the politics of the whole world. (RR p. 322)

332. Actualities. That there are for us two actualities, one of customary consciousness and one of the soul, is the philosophical expression of the cleft in our inner being, which entered the sphere of life with Plato and Christ. (RR p. 475)

333. In the "Year of Salvation." The most impudent Jewish attempt to blot out the prehistoric world succeeded when Christianity identified the birth-year of its founder with the birth-year of time itself. (RR p. 349)

334. On Characterology [Charakterkunde]. Two basic modes of psychology have co-existed alongside each other for quite some time: one type of "psychology" devotes its energies to the investigation of the facts of consciousness; whereas the other school of thought investigates the nature of the whole personality; the latter discipline first received its designation as "Characterology" during the 19th Century. There is a wealth of material to be discovered in the poets, sages, and moralists of the ages that has only been systematically worked over in recent years. We especially recall the pronouncements of Democritus and those of the more important Greek Sophists, as well as the contributions of the later Stoics, most especially those of Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus. Then we have Theophrastus, a student and disciple of Aristotle, who, in his renowned "Ethical Characters," presented a series of fragmentary analyses of 30 character-types; unfortunately, the acumen of Theophrastus is seriously impaired as a result of his attending to the siren-song of his consistency-mania. This work was translated into French in the 17th Century by La Bruyère, who himself published an outstanding treatise entitled "Characters." We also recall the French moralists and skeptics who flourished during the 16th and 17th Centuries: Montaigne, Pascal, and, above all, De la Rochefoucauld, the author of the dazzling "Maxims." The problems of characterology first came into view in Germany during the intellectual Renaissance of our classical age. Goethe’s "Elective Affinities" and, above all, Jean Paul’s "Levana" both provide unsurpassed treasures of the greatest interest for the characterologist. Likewise, there were many useful characterological observations in the "Aphorisms" of Lichtenberg, and even the prominent epistemologist Immanuel Kant discussed the foundations of characterology in his "Anthropology." The investigations of these students soon intersected with the physiognomical studies of Lavater, Camper, and Gall; the soil was thus well prepared for the biocentric psychology of the German Romantics. Towering above them all, is the recently re-discovered late Romantic physician Carl Gustav Carus, whose masterworks are the "Psyche: On the Developmental History of the Soul" and the "Symbolism of the Human Anatomy." There are many worthwhile discoveries to be found as well in the works of Arthur Schopenhauer. From Schopenhauer the thread of tradition leads directly to the philosopher and pedagogue Julius Bahnsen, who brought out his 2-vol. treatise, the "Contributions to Characterology," in 1867, in which the learned author first gives the illustrious child its proper name. After Bahnsen’s time, however, the thread of the characterological tradition was snapped.

Eventually, the pre-dominant natural-scientific, "experimental" psychology drove the science of character almost completely from the field. Works by French students, such as the "Characters" by Paulhan, and the "Temperament and Character" by Fouillée, remained without influence. One began to hear on all sides that a complete revolution in psychology was at hand.

At that time, it was customary to demand that psychology furnish the correct instructions to employers regarding the suitability of job-applicants for specific vocations. Under the pressure of this demand, a field of research was developed which devoted itself to the study of human aptitudes and "Psychotechnics" (Münsterberg, Stern, Meumann, and others). Thereupon characterology began to penetrate psychiatry. The results of the investigations undertaken in this area by neurologists, for the most part in close conjunction with "psychoanalysts," are still somewhat murky. 

But now, a powerful revolution really did break out, a revolution that had its origins in the psychological doctrines of the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Basing itself firmly upon these doctrines, there soon appeared—under the illustrious name that Bahnsen had first bestowed upon the science—the first modern, systematic treatise on characterology, which was published by the author of these lines in 1910, under the title "The Principles of Characterology." The doctrines propounded in this concise, but epoch-making work, for the first time established, as they will continue to determine, the future direction of characterology. (SW 4 pp. 708-9)

335. On Hysteria and Sanctity. Imitation is the common characteristic of all hysterical phenomena. When we read reports concerning the monks and nuns of the Middle Ages who were declared blessed, or saints (most especially if we read their own accounts!), we are amazed at the startling similarity of the ecstasies that are recounted, and at the grotesque lack of mythopoeic imagination that characterizes these stories. Thus, regarding the phenomenon of stigmatization, over and over again we encounter the following: the Christ appears, either in the guise of a child, or as the crucified adult, and he offers the choice of a floral crown or a crown of thorns; of course, the latter is chosen. The Christ then touches the region of the heart with a rod, a spear, or a beam of light (in order to mark the lateral wound). Later, he will grant the full stigmata, with its familiar five rays that emanate from the lateral wound, the hands, and the feet. The rays may be blood-red or they may be a dazzling white. The impression of the wounds will reach its high point on Good Friday. In brief, the same series of phantoms arrives on cue, and is repeated, over and over again, always in strictest obedience to the scriptural authorities established by the church.

Further, the types of phenomena that occur in eras that were stirred unto their very depths (which are merely the incubation periods of the mechanism of hysteria) throw light, not so much on this mechanism as on the condition, based on racial history, of its origins. These "saints" will to resemble their savior as closely as possible, just as they wish to enjoy all of his sufferings. Above all, they will to be tortured by him. But such instances of willing could never produce the internal image unless that, of which the willing is but a conscious symptom, had already occurred in the person’s vital stratum, i.e., as an internal cleavage, or schism, which thenceforth we can examine very conveniently in its conscious results. Why do the saints desire to suffer such torments and pains? Because they wish to punish the body, because they wish to mount an extreme resistance to its requirements, to its claims, and to its desires. Let us now consider the significance of these facts.

Every living being is a totality possessing two poles, body and soul: body the manifestation of soul, and soul the meaning of the manifested body. The movements (in part locomotor and in part formative) constitute expressions, urges, and intuitions of that which is expressed in them. The crucial experience of the body is sensual pleasure, the central experience of the soul the joy of exultant creativity. The pre-condition for the highest development of the body, as well as of the soul, can only be maintained in the equipoise of these two poles. To wage war against the body entails making war upon such joy, and to wage war against such joy also means to expel the soul and leave it homeless, to drain its creative enthusiasm, to dry up the springs of creativity. But why do these saints wish to wage war against the body? Why do they crave (at least unintentionally) that which is the inevitable consequence: to expel the soul, to extirpate creative exaltation, to paralyze creativity? It is because the soul was sundered by the a-cosmic power of spirit (logos, pneuma, nous), whose very essence is will, the adversary and murderer of life. Either one understands this, and then the supernatural visions, the examples of demonic possession, the hysteria, and, finally, personality itself, are understood; or else one cannot understand all this, and nothing at all will result but additional confusion of speech by means of that Babylonian tower of emergency concepts that dire need constrains us to erect as a substitute for thought. A hundred attempts have been made to derive the repression of body and life from life itself, but all such attempts are more blind than would be the attempt to demonstrate of the flame that is extinguished by pouring water upon it that the flame has extinguished itself by transforming a part of itself into the water that is being utilized to extinguish it! (SW 4 pp. 333-4)

336. The Crucifixion of Soul and Body. The mankind of heathen temples and festivals, of Gothic cathedrals and shining twilights, of pomp and circumstance and organ-tones, is finished, yielding place to a generation that reveals itself in the Stock Exchange, radio, airplane, telephone, movies, factories, poison gas, precision instruments, and newspapers. The pilgrim’s path has its stations, but all of them end up at Golgotha. Similarly, the story of spirit in Europe has its crucial chapters, which announce themselves as follows: the war of body and soul, disembodiment of the soul, or condemnation of joy, or paralysis of creative force; extinction of the soul in the body, or the blinding of intuition, or the body as machine; and man as the instrument of the will to power, which replaces the soul with soul-mimicry, phantoms, and masks. (SW 4 p. 336)

337. The Blood-Glow and the Demonic Powers. The blood-glow ([Alfred] Schuler) is an uninterrupted, profoundly disturbing access of awe. A dark atmosphere throbs and ferments within hidden hovels. Wild, raucous cries blend with the crashing of storms. Being speaks in a demonic voice out of the murky twilight; but the glowing crimson of a winter evening is encircling the world, and a blazing fire directs its light upon the pursuing powers. The flame and smoke of the hearth fire shudder in the holy night before the savage force of the winds.

Blood-glow is Eros and child, is the golden unity of life, and through the eyes of the child, the blood-glow gazes far back into the golden distance (could that be the true significance of the mirror in the Corybantic ring?). In the blood-glow, the mysteries of the maternal universe are revealed. (RR p. 270)

338. On the Dæmonic Vision. Just as messages are transmitted between dæmon and soul, so are dæmon and soul intimately bound together with the dæmonic and primordial source of images, in the living, in a way that transcends the possibility of a purely verbal revelation, for at the moment when the visionary event overwhelms us, we experience, again and yet again, an ever-renewable, cyclical series of "world-beginnings."

We would like to draw the reader’s attention to a particularly fiery and colorful strophe composed by Alfred Schuler. It is entitled "Corybantic Dithyramb" (from his "Cosmogony":

What are you that is more than this my candle-wick,

Than my lamp that boils with its Balsamic oils?

What are you more than my own gentle blossom,

My mosaic of the hyacinths,

Which glow beneath my feet?

I am the light that nurtures you.

I am the eye that feigns, at dead of night, a gleam for you.

I am the pearl that shaped its globe within the shell.

I am the rush that youthens our old world,

For I am life!

The world stands in its shining, instantaneous presence there. In the distances of space as well as in the distances of time, everything has, now and forever, its bright light and its sense—even if not so swiftly apprehended within the images. (SW III pp. 426-7)

339. Schuler’s Scholarship. As an archaeologist, Alfred Schuler, whom I first met in 1893, was already in possession of an astonishing wealth of knowledge; he had devised, as it were, a religion of the Magna Mater; he had accumulated, through the most rigorous study of the entire literature of Imperial Rome, a massive amount of material relating to the "chthonic" cults; and he spent all of his time in this enthusiastic frame of mind, whilst he prepared his massive treatise on the swastika for publication (of course, he never finished this work!). Basically, Schuler added nothing that was completely new to the theories devised by Bachofen: but what an astounding fund of material was his! (LK GL p. 1072)

340. George and Schuler. I have occasionally overheard conversations dealing with the George-"Circle"; and I have heard, of course, the story that relates how the name-giver conferred the title "Master" upon himself and the title "young men" upon his acolytes. I have nothing to say regarding the events that transpired in that "circle." But I must insist, in the most decisive terms, that I was the last person in the world to submit to such a "Master." One might even go so far as to say, with equal justice (or injustice!), that Stefan George belonged to the "Klages-Circle"! What can be demonstrated conclusively (and with accompanying documents) is this: by pure chance, during the decade from 1894-1904, several scientists, artists, and writers congregated in Munich, who sought, by uniting their forces, to present a common front against the spirit of the age. George was an occasional guest of this group of intellectuals. He seldom became involved in the endless (and often profound) discussions that transpired, but he was the only person present who could point to the works of his that had already been published; and he did actually seem eager to provide a focal point to us "new spirits" when he established his renowned journal, the Blætter für die Kunst. That is how I became involved with the man. But let there be no misunderstanding here: if any one person stood at the very center of things at that time, if there was indeed a master-spirit in our midst, one who could justly speak of his "following," it was Alfred Schuler. From him, and from him alone, did I receive the decisive impetus that determined forever the direction that I would follow in my metaphysical speculations. (AC p. 381)

341. The Mysticism of Alfred Schuler. The only true mystic whom I have ever encountered utterly scorned the idea of "making" anything out of his inspirations. Thus, the notes that Schuler has set down in the course of his fifty years, which comprise his so-called "aphorisms" and "fragments," remain, for the most part, almost incomprehensible. Yet to the student of symbols these fragmentary remains speak in such an astounding manner as one seldom encounters even in the works of the great poets! (LK GL p. 698)

342. An Age Unworthy of Alfred Schuler. Bachofen successfully liberated the image of the primordial soul from the layers of varnish with which the millennia had covered the remains of pre-history, so that we were enabled to obtain some inkling as to the inexpressible beauty of that image. The mission of my own life is to provide the epistemological key with which to open up the eyes of man to the profundity and the truth of Bachofen’s discoveries. I was assisted in this mission by the great good fortune of my encounter with a contemporary thinker, Alfred Schuler, the student of the ancient "Mysteries," whose investigations were based in part on the "chthonic" element studied by Bachofen, and in part on still deeper strata. Schuler was able to walk about like a native on the landscape of symbolic thought, and the most obvious demonstration of the authentic nature of his discoveries is surely revealed in the fact that hardly any of his contemporaries were even aware of the mere fact of their existence! (SW 3 pp. 496-7)

343. Alfred Schuler on the Blood. Schuler located the spring of every creative power in the blood, which he saw as a glowing substance whose potency could be renewed only by those who were capable of bringing cosmic rebirth to a degenerate age. (LK GL p. 182)

344. Alfred Schuler and Stefan George. On one occasion, Schuler initiated his lecture with a reading of his most striking fragments; he began powerfully, but he very quickly became seized by an ever-increasing pathos. One might almost say that he began to generate a magnetic field, that he seemed as if transfigured. George would stand behind his chair, becoming increasingly disturbed, until he could no longer conceal his agitation. He finally became extremely pale, and seemed as if he was about to lose his faculties. The psychical atmosphere radiated by Schuler did indeed become overpowering: no one could comprehend precisely whatever it was that took possession of Schuler, but out of that droning voice there suddenly erupted a volcanic flood of glowing lava, and out of the molten stream there arose purple images, unconscious, rapturous.

When the lecture ended, and how it ended, no one could say, but as the visitors began to disperse they were startled to find themselves holding some tattered fragments of a coronal that Schuler had torn to pieces in order to bestow them on his guests as he said his farewells.

I then found myself alone with George on the nocturnal streets; he was clutching at my arm, saying: "That’s insanity! What have you done, taking me to such a place? It’s madness, I tell you! It’s unbearable! Take me to a restaurant where the commonplace bourgeois citizen is smoking his cigar and drinking his beer!"

And that’s just what I did. (KGL pp. 359-60)

345. On Stefan George. His soul was essentially Empire; this fact accounts for the indirectness of his words, his "impuissance," and his French rigidity; a latter day epigone of the 18th Century. His character was scheming, destitute, and treacherous: a blend of Catholicism and Renaissance. His character was the coffin that housed his soul. (RR p. 312)

346. Magna Mater. The womanly essence is simply the soul of space, just as the Magna Mater is the soul of the reestablishment of space in the center of time. (SW 2 p. 1350)

347. Man, Gods, and Cosmos. The most profound proposition of all natural law was crystallized in these words of the poet Pindar: "The race of men is one thing, and the race of gods is another; but both receive their life and their breath from the same mother." We broaden the scope of that proposition to state that animals, plants, stars, clouds, and winds are all divine, just as all of the creations that appear within the Cosmos are but leaves upon one stem, and limbs of the same symbiotic formation. (SW 2 p. 1352)

348. On Racial Consciousness and Community. It is affinity, and not the codification of property law, that moulds the souls of earth’s heathen children; the young are formed in the community established by the mother of the tribe, but the adults are formed in the community shaped by the Great Mother of the Cosmos. This affinity manifests itself in the selective breeding that is based upon racial consciousness; it is conquered through actual—or even symbolical—mongrelization of the blood. (SW 2 p. 1355)

349. Cosmos of Mind, and Cosmos of Life. The thought Cosmos is a mechanical confusion of things; the living Cosmos, on the other hand, to which our languages can only allude, cannot be conceptually grasped, for it only reveals itself in the instantaneousness flash of its here and now appearance. (SW 2 p. 1367)

350. "Mother Right". Light may still be shed on the phenomenon of the so-called "gynæcocracy" of prehistory through the application of matriarchal thought to the symbols of water, tree, and moon. Inasmuch as the sensual images of the nocturnal-polar side of the world are at the same time those of the pole-connected "middle," the night must be elevated over the day, the darkness over the light, the below over the above, the fixed over the wandering, space over time, left over right, and so on. Within the human shape, the sensual image of woman-as-mother must be elevated over the poles of man-and-woman. (SW 2 p.1374)

351. Life and Spirit. We have bestowed the name life upon the all-weaving power of primordial imagery. (SW 2 p. 1239)

352. We have given the name spirit to the hostile power that turns all primordial images into hollow phantoms. (SW 2 p. 1239)

353. Types of Criminality. There is a potential criminality, which is satisfied merely to peer at naked images of atrocities; and there is even—if one may apply to a strange fact an even stranger name—an apocryphal criminality that occurs in those who will not confess their criminal impulses even to themselves. Indeed, whoever closely examines society swiftly discovers the existence of many associations and organizations that provide their clients with a gratuitous satisfaction of criminal impulses. But we must now abandon the soil of true criminality, which always lies in deed and will, and never in the more circumspect devilry of philosophy, for this question has now taken us beyond our theme, although it is connected with it. It often seems to the psychologist that every halting-station turns out to be a confrontation with the knots in the manifold, interwoven threads of his discourse! (AC p. 222)

354. Thought and the Driving Forces. For the benefit of those students who have not as yet achieved complete familiarity regarding the leading motives of characterological thought, we will here introduce a few remarks that will hopefully enable them to avoid certain misunderstandings.

When we say that the spirit of a thinker is chiefly determined by a "general current" of human vitality, we are speaking of the inevitable part that his personal system of driving forces plays in this general current; one thing that we must do is to ascertain the degree of the dependence of his thought on his personal driving forces; another, is that we must ascertain the degree of his thought’s dependence on the side of his nature that is connected with vitality as such. In brief: the personal precondition of thought is not the same as the vital precondition of thought. (AC p. 386)

355. Hostage to Fortune. Doubts and misgivings should certainly be the thinker’s priorities; but if a philosopher persists in his doubts, he may place himself in a dangerous position: for a later generation may discover that what it values most in him is his—backwardness. (AC p. 3)

356. Socrates the Loathsome. We hear that Socrates was loathsome and impotent, and that he never allowed himself to become intoxicated; we understand thereby how the soil was prepared wherein the faith in the exaggerated worth of the ego could flourish. The rupture must be torn open in the blood before the norms that are hostile to the blood could arise in the spirit…Socrates was a man without contradictions, and, in his eyes, no respect for good breeding could compete with the transcendent value of the rootless individual being. Socrates was a man of the mob, a man without a racial homeland. He was indifferent even to the cycles of the celestial spheres. To Socrates, the torrent, the star, and the cloud were irrelevant. (RR p. 425)

357. Primary and Secondary Feelings. We must distinguish between the primary feelings, which flow into the act of judgment, and the secondary, which spring out of that act. The primary feelings, as is self-evident, comprise any immediate motives, whether they are predominantly internal or whether they arise in the external world. The secondary, on the other hand, are reflexes of already extant feelings. (RR p. 368)

358. The Act of the Spirit. The spiritual act, flashing out at the stationary point in the swing of the pendulum, seizes the fact within the concept; but flashing out at the instant of the highest animation, the spiritual act seizes, at one and the same moment, object and subject; the bearer of experience and experience itself; the thing, but as habitation of the soul (Idol); and the soul, but as the form of being (Fravashi, "genius," "idea"). Putting the matter somewhat paradoxically, the spiritual act seems to seize the inconceivable, primordial image inasmuch as the image can allow its being conceived. (RR p. 365)

359. The Poet and the Images. The poet is the spiritual form of the ecstatic soul. He breaks through the person to become image. Through him speaks the actual character of the Cosmos. The road of degeneration leads from the poet to the metaphysician. The concept is the Caesar of the image, just as logic is the Papacy of the soul. (RR p. 322)

360. Stefan George. We see in Stefan George a poet divided against himself: pagan Eros alongside Christian charity. (LK GL p. 330)

361. Life, and Nothing But Life. Life is everything, and, in reality, what my writings record, and what they will always record, is the tree of life and its golden leaves. (LK GL p.331)

362. On the Dreams of Friedrich Huch [From a Letter to Huch]. Three of your dreams I consider to be more or less "Cosmic"—the one that recounts the far-distant music of the Italian children; the one that deals with the staircase of death; and the one about the vertiginously distant whirling of the solar disc.

Music is a primordial experience, which emerges in manifold guises: but it is always accompanied by nagging, disturbing spectacles. In comparison with all of the ineluctably vanished things, the remainder of life begins to wear a desolate grimace: the pallid face of the specter. One awakens at the beginning to the distant sounds that betoken all of the deepest, most inexpressible experiences of love and beauty; then everything sinks once again into an unfathomable abyss. (LK GL p. 335)

363. The Certainties of Kant. We must reject as logically untenable Kant’s classification of judgments according to their degree of truth, judgments that have been founded in fact upon themselves; although Kant believes that he has comprehended, through the force of his convictions—which he characterizes as "apodictic" certainties—the conditions that validate cognition, he actually has his eye not on the actuality of space, but only on the being of space, i. e., space as the object of thought, or our so-called space-object. His incredibly stubborn advocacy of the "a priori" status of perceived space answers the question—or believes, at least, that it has done so—regarding the inviolable nature of the postulates of mathematics, and the Kantian concept of space stands from the outset in the service of Kant’s compelling need to provide sufficient grounds to validate the necessary truths of geometry. (SW 1 pp. 142-3)

364. Kant Condemned Out of his Own Mouth. Jakob Burckhardt has best accounted for that conjunction of greatness and comprehensiveness in Greek spirituality when he noted that without the art of conversation the development of the Greek spirit would have been inconceivable; he said that it was out of the Agora and the Symposium—those favored haunts of Athenian conversationalists—that philosophy itself sprang into being. Regarding this point, we must certainly reject as unjustified (although it is understandable when we consider its source!) Kant’s ridicule of ancient Greek thought as a mere "wordy babbling." Without a doubt, a talent for creative thought was originally a function of the talent for lively conversation. (SW 6 p. 659)

365. Contra Kant. We are unable to determine how many other sagacious students share our opinion of Kant, but we can never proceed very far in our reading of the "Critique of Pure Reason" without being astonished that a thinker who devotes himself explicitly to the task of discovering the grounds that make cognition possible should convince himself that he has ascertained those grounds—in cognition itself! When Nietzsche, in "Beyond Good and Evil," says that Kant responds to the question as to how cognition possible by telling us of a "faculty of a faculty," that is only a more drastic expression of the very astonishment that we ourselves experience. (SW 1 p. 141)

366. Kant and Leibniz. Kant’s investigations give the false impression that he has established the grounds for the possibility of cognition, when what he has really done is to split cognition into two modes, one of which is merely "empirical," while the other allegedly deals with universally valid and necessary truths. This shows us that Kant is merely spinning out the threads of the bungled fabric of Leibnizian thought, which also entails two classes of thought, viz., the class comprising truths of fact and that comprising truths of reason. (SW 1 p. 142) 

367. Thing and Time. We have in the thing the inextensible point of connection for the understanding of the temporally fleeting manifold of images; and we have no difficulty in understanding this point as being, as it were, anchored in time. But while the mere temporal site remains where it is, so the thing demands the exact opposite, to be thought of as participating in a span of time, the extreme maximum of which may be as great as the duration of the universe, and the extreme minimum of which may be as brief as the duration of a flash of lightning; but the thing can never be contracted into a tangible point, for there is no "existence" in the mathematical point. (SW 1 p. 23)

368. Time and Duration. Too few thinkers have devoted their attentions to a successful clarification of the indisputable fact that we do not measure the approximate duration of a thing by means of time, but time by means of the duration of a thing. (SW 1 p. 25)

369. The Blindness of Faust the Capitalist. Without going into the whole question of the visionary symbolism of Faust II, we should still draw attention to the disturbing fact that Faust, after a fruitless, storm-tossed life devoted to his own delight, immediately before his death expresses his belief that he experiences his "highest moment" in the consciousness of the praiseworthiness of his labors as a capitalist entrepreneur—and here the poet’s vision plunges straight into the abyss—but Faust is too arrogant to hear, at that very moment, the sound of the spade that is digging his own grave! (SW 1 p. 65)

370. Existence and Predicates. The thing is the original "entity" and the immediate paradigm and exemplar of the substantive in general; hence, the history of human thought provides countless instances which illustrate the misleading thing-status of such concepts as: process, fate, life, childhood, age, youth, morning, evening, spring, enmity, sin, and so on ad infinitum. Precisely herein lies the basis of the fact that in so many languages the utilization of the word "exists" [G. Sein] signifies the mere connection of the predicate-word with the affirmative statement. Every judgment regarding time as well as every judgment regarding space is so constructed as to mislead us into the belief that there actually is a "time-thing," and that there really exists a "space-thing"! (SW 1 pp. 24-5)

371. Soul and Spirit. The character of the soul is sometimes impulsive, and at other times it may be enthusiastically abandoned; by contrast, the character of spirit appears in the light of an obstruction that realizes its potential in the intentional binding of a psychical emotion! Accordingly, an equilibrium between soul and spirit can never be reached; and what may seem to us to be an example of an achieved and gracious balance between soul and spirit in an outstanding personality, e.g., the poise of a Goethe, can be shown, under more rigorous scrutiny, to be merely a matter of compromise, an instance of artistic "style." As such, this state can never be attained without a patent loss in psychical immediacy. (SW 1 p. 74)

372. Connections. The error of the "Panlogicians," if we might just borrow their favorite expression for a moment, stems from the "equivocation" that confuses connection in general with a perceived connection. The Panlogicians have correctly stated the fact that only the spiritual act can establish connections; but they have overlooked the fact that there are two species of connections which can be established through comprehension: the conceptual connection of one point to another point; and the non-conceptual connection of point to happening. (SW 1 p. 85)

373. This is our Truth. There is a being from outside the world of space and time, to which we have applied the name "spirit" (logos, nous), which is capable of driving every critical nature into one and the same conceptual scheme, i.e., one that is based on unity, quantification, and measurement, and which also forces critical individuals to observe the temporal actuality under the guise of a system of interconnected quantifiable points. An excessive emphasis upon factuality and upon the universally binding force of truth is from the outset the expression of the monotonous quality of the faculty of judgment in every nature who yields to this impulse and who possesses this capacity. (SW 1 p. 62)

374. Truth and Discovery. All truths are equally valuable—or equally valueless—if we value them merely because they are true. In other words, we possess no general yardstick that can accurately evaluate a truth, so long as we focus exclusively upon the finished product instead of upon the process whereby that truth came into existence. (SW 1 p. 122)

375. Different Modes of Thought Entirely. Such thinkers as Giordano Bruno and Carl Gustav Carus seldom augment the fund of empirical knowledge that was accumulated by such scholars as Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin. Conversely, it is only rarely that we find the second pair adding to the knowledge of the first. (SW 1 p. 127)

376. Seekers After Truth. The alleged lack of bias in those who "search for truth" is a pious deception concocted by a superficial mentality that is overawed by the mere title of "science." (SW 1 p. 130)

377. The Indivisible Union. We take this opportunity to venture our explanation as to why we arrange colors and seeing, sounds and hearing, and smells and smelling in polar contrast to each other. We all recognize that we can never achieve a satisfactory philosophical demonstration when we are required to associate the following expressions: invisible colors, inaudible sounds, and smells that cannot be perceived; it is thereby conceded that not only can there be no seeing without colors, no hearing without sounds, and no smelling without smells; but there are also no colors without visibility, no sounds without audibility, and no smells without a capacity to smell them. The appearance and the faculty that enables one to experience it thus occur in an indivisible union. (SW 1 p. 103) 

378. Philosophical Arrogance. Ever since the discovery of the Platonic "Doctrine of the Ideas," there has obviously never been a definitive settlement of the controversy between those who hold that the "universals" exist only in the thinking consciousness and those who maintain that they constitute the driving and formative powers of actuality itself. Modern thinkers have only picked up where the medieval scholastics left off. Today’s philosophers, who pride themselves on having solved the great riddle that split all the best philosophical heads in medieval Europe into the two great camps of "realists" and "nominalists," are only fooling themselves. (SW 1 p. 109)

379. Man and Woman. We avert our gaze from the "emancipation" movement of modern times, to see that woman, throughout all of recorded history, is the bearer of the powers of life and soul, just as man is always the bearer of the powers of spirit and productive activity; this holds true even today for the vast majority of men and women. (SW 6 p. 664)

380. Tears and Crying. It astonishes us that Darwin, whose chapter on weeping [in "The Expression of the Emotions…"] provides the richest fund of material whereby we can establish a conclusive demonstration of the detachability of the act of shedding tears from the act of crying, could not free himself, on speculative grounds, from a need to maintain the inseparability of the two phenomena. (SW 6 p. 667)

381. Vital and Mechanical Movements. Darwin, along with his predecessors and his disciples, basically recognizes only one species of movement, the mechanical, and he is involuntarily led by a compulsion to cancel out the vital movement and to put mechanical movement in its place. (SW 6 p. 199)

382. Expressive Movement. To every inner activity belongs its analogous movement; or, if one uses "movement" instead of activity: every inner movement entails its analogous outer movement. (SW 6 p. 681)

383. Physiognomical Interpretation. Lavater already understood the principle whereby we can evaluate mimicry physiognomically. Thus, whoever possesses the quality of an energetic will, often finds himself in a condition of nervous tension; he who is by nature fearful, will find himself, again and again, in a condition of anxiety; and the habitually short-tempered man will more often than not find himself in a condition of anger. (SW 6 p. 679)

384. Expressive Movements. To every inner condition there corresponds, as its expression, those bodily movements that portray that condition. (SW 6 p. 678)

385. The Science of Fact and the Science of Appearance. General logic, as it is understood today, reveals itself as a skeletal structure, within which an almost endless series of philosophical procedures find a place, and in which every logical proposition find its application. That which had been inaugurated as a mere "methodology," is now the most informative jumping-off point for differentiating between the intellectual technique employed by the practical man and that employed by the theoretical, the technique of the manual worker and that employed by the scholar, the musician’s technique and the mathematician’s, and so on. However, in our own field of research, that which we hold to be securely established…is the sharp distinction that must be drawn between two species of thought: the predominantly conceptual and the predominantly allusive modes, or the study of fact and the study of appearance. (SW 6 p. 656) 

386. Psychology and Metaphysics. Some students renounce even the possibility of a significant conceptualization of the soul, and they assure us that we have immediate access only to the "phenomena of consciousness"; others refer to psychology as the science of "inner" (immediate) experience, from which viewpoint it is not any very great distance to today’s repeated revivals of the doctrine of "inner perception"; others remain encamped in the antiquated "Doctrine of the Soul [Seelenlehre]," notwithstanding the fact that they cannot provide a satisfactory explanation of the unique nature of that soul. And, once again, there are still others for whom psychology appears to constitute merely one branch of neurology; and again, others, who, scenting in every one of these doctrines a false "naturalism," promise to bestow upon us a novel and refined species of thought, sometimes of the "intuitive" variety, and at others of the "subjective" type, which we are told will enable us to avoid every stumbling-block that is placed on our path by erroneous preconceptions. All honor to the rigor of our investigators! But we think that here a great expense will be unprofitable due to the prevalence of a mindless hostility to the perpetually unavoidable metaphysics. Whichever of the renowned—or obscure—conceptual determinations that one adopts, one will find oneself in the midst of metaphysics, and one will become so much more seriously entangled in self-contradictory basic assumptions, the more one feels obliged to repudiate metaphysics.

Consider: The discussion of the "phenomena of consciousness" leads one directly to the question regarding the nature of consciousness, and then to the nature of the unconscious, and, before one realizes it, one is confronted with questions regarding monism, dualism, or even "psycho-physical parallelism"…But the believer in the soul, on the other hand, is already graced by the seal of "ontology," and he already manifests as well the clearest antithesis to the materialism of the neurologists.

The odd thing about the speculations of our "intuitionists" and "subjectivists" is the fact that both types remain united in their habitual, albeit unconscious, Platonism…

No one has the right to discuss psychology unless and until he has become a metaphysician. (SW 1 pp. 5-6) 

387. The Rage of Heracles. The spirit, once it had liberated itself from servitude to life, proceeded autocratically, becoming the unchained force of destruction; the activity of thought becomes hereafter the tool of the will to power. During this Heracleic phase, life becomes dependent upon spirit, thought becomes dependent upon will, and the main purpose of mankind, without as well as within, is to enslave "nature," so that man may celebrate the triumph of spirit in the "miracles of technology." Thus, we realize that it was no accident when the first disciples of the rule of an alleged "world-principle," the Stoics, chose Heracles as their examplary hero. (SW 1 p. 753) 

388. Scholar and Philosopher. The scholar feels the greatest affection for that which is certain; the philosopher, on the other hand, loves the hypothetical above all else. (SW 4 p. 26)

389. Abstraction and Expression. So-called abstract thought is the most introspective manifestation of affective life, i.e., it is the least likely to be converted into visible bodily movements. (SW 4 p. 26)

390. Burckhardt as Characterologist. Now and forever, Jakob Burckhardt’s greatest service was in applying—perhaps unintentionally—the characterological approach to the cultural historiography of diverse ages and nations. Therefore, for every characterologist, Burckhardt’s "History of Greek Civilization," "The Culture of the Renaissance in Italy," and "The Age of Constantine the Great," are required reading. (SW 4 p. 479) 

391. East and West. The extra-spatio-temporal power to which we have applied the name "spirit" strives to kill the unity of life by severing the poles that bind body to soul; by binding itself to the body-pole in order to exorcise the soul, spirit deprives the body of that soul. Here, however, a question arises: might not spirit form an alliance with the soul, in order to cause the body to wither, thus disembodying the soul? Might it not be upon that path that we must locate the interpretation of actuality that ascribes different degrees of being to the character of (deceptive) appearances? With the affirmative answer we have probed the deepest reasons for the opposition of every species of Platonism to Chinese Taoism, and, what’s more, we have reached the very point at which the Asian style of approach to actuality diverges most sharply from that of the West. (SW 1 p. 339)

392. Soul and Mask. The entity that places so many obstacles before us as we attempt to devise a science of the soul is not—the soul, but the masquerade of the soul, which the will to power thrusts between the soul and the observer. Thus, the student who insists upon penetrating every mask in order to approach the soul’s true visage, has already proceeded far along the path to an authentic comprehension of characterology. (PEN p. 62)

393. What is Life? Although the natural scientific theory of life ("Biology") places the problem of life in the forefront, science has certainly not been able to solve it. Biologists occupy themselves with two groups of entities, i.e., the living and the non-living, but they have come up with no answer as to whence the "living-ness" of the living entity originates. There are no sensual qualities through which the living may be conclusively distinguished from the non-living. All colors, sounds, tastes, scents, textures, formal configurations, and types of movement, can be found in both spheres. The first substantial solution to this problem was hit upon, centuries before the common era, by the Pythagorean physician Alkmaion, who held that only the living being possesses the capacity to "move itself." But even here, although we will concede that self-motility may well be an expressive indication of life, it is certainly not a characteristicquality of living things. (SW 3 pp. 250-1)

394. Things in Space and Time. Every thing, in every moment, has its place in space; and a thing may "exist" for a shorter, or a longer, duration in time. Every quality of a thing, since it participates in that thing (even when that quality is merely "mediated"), has, in turn, its necessary connection to space and time. Thus, whether it is a thing, or a quality, or a process, every conceivable "it-point" must be distinguished from the vitality of the happening in that it has that very character of a point; in addition, it has the character of a point-of-connection. (SW 1 p. 84)

395. The Type and the Instance. When we scrutinize the lives of the various individuals to whom Nietzsche applied the name "master-type"—in addition to [Mirabeau and Napoleon], mention must be made of Julius Caesar, Friedrich II, Hohenstaufen, Cesare Borgia, and Frederick the Great—we can scarcely avoid the impression that this "master-type" is merely an ingenious and poetic day-dream, to which none of the aforesaid individuals bore even the remotest resemblance. (PEN p. 126)

396. The Ultimate Thule. The life of Nietzsche’s soul, in comparison with that of our Classical and Romantic writers, because of its unrealistic needs and the glittering filigree of its thought, stands at the border: one step beyond, and we are in a world of the hollow ornament, the side-show, the mask. (AC p. 375)

397. Nietzsche and "The Man of Feelings." There can be no greater error than to confuse Nietzsche’s restless vibrancy with the temperamental ebullition of the "man of feelings," to whom Nietzsche is the most extreme contrast that the mind can conceive. As one who is in his inmost core a-social, who stands wholly within his own…vital nature, the "affairs of the heart" only interest Nietzsche to the extent that he is their critic and judge. (AC p. 374)

398. The Elemental Vision. I marvel at the greatness of Nietzsche’s humanity…Nevertheless, regarding greatness as well as smallness, strength as well as weakness: life never reveals its secrets in such things…What Nietzsche has to say about such matters is great, viewed from the standpoint of humanity, but his words are certainly not a revelation of life. What I have always sought in life—and what I have also found—leads me to the following reflection: if only there still lived within my soul that primordial homeland of which I received such a spectacular vision in vanished years; if only there were still men upon the earth who possessed the power that could renew the mysteries of the cosmic night; if only there still were eyes that could penetrate to the ocean floor above which pulsates the surging of metallic billows. Such things as these are life to me. Such things allow me to plunge myself into the hot glow of the elemental forces. (RR p. 522)

399. On Nietzsche’s View of the Priestly Caste. Nietzsche sees the Jews as the race that has devised the most powerful and influential priestly caste in history…We will now provide a tentative explanation that might account for what seem to be peculiar discrepancies in his estimation of the Jews. He directs his gaze upon the depth, strength, endurance, absolutism, and relentlessness of the priestly will to power; upon its incomparable sagacity, cunning, and craftiness in the selection of mediators; and upon its ingenious flair for adaptation and re-interpretation: thus, he admires the priest and, consequently, the Jew, as the consummate manifestations of the priestly caste. On the other hand, he faces the fact that the priestly will, which is based upon life-envy, is directed against life; this will infects life, poisons life, and causes life to degenerate: thus, Nietzsche becomes the passionate enemy of the priest and, again, of the Jew, as the most extreme embodiments of diseased life. We consider the admiration and the opposition to be two inseparably linked sides of one and the same fact, and we therefore conclude that neither the priestly embodiment nor the Jewish embodiment constitute a comprehensive representation of that which they both serve. Therefore, just as Nietzsche borrowed the name of a renowned god for his cult of Dionysus, so are we justified in borrowing the name of a hostile counterpart in speaking of the cult of Jahweh. There is no disputing the fact that Nietzsche was inflexible in his conviction that historical Christianity is the religion of St. Paul. And the religion of St. Paul is merely a particular version of the cult of Jahweh. (PEN pp. 152-3)

400. What German Literature Lacks. There is no German prose as yet…We still do not possess a creative writer whose deep feeling for the German language has enabled him to escape this dilemma. Goethe is "Rococo"—Jean Paul is downright old-fashioned—Hoelderlin has the strongest rhythmic sense of the three, but he devoted himself primarily to poetry—and Stefan George is scarcely to be mentioned in this connection. Of all our great writers, only Nietzsche had sufficient talent to repair the omission, but even he sabotaged his greatest achievement, the "Zarathustra," by adulterating his own style (alas!) with the Germanic idioms of Luther’s Bible. In brief: we still await the creator of a German prose. (LK GL p. 341)
 401. False and True in Nietzsche. The best, the deepest, and the most true of all the discoveries that Nietzsche has won for the philosophy of life comprise the fragments of a philosophy of "orgiastics." Everything else is worthless. We must see this clearly, so that we can comprehend the motives behind his critique of the substrate-concept as well as the ultimate significance of his Heracliteanism. We must also perceive, through the breach that he opened up in the meters-thick cocoon that shielded delusion’s chimera, the road to new truths, and even to a whole new species of thought. However, Nietzsche himself could not set out upon that road, so that we must content ourselves by widening the breach that he opened. (PEN p. 168)

402. Formula. Every one of Nietzsche’s truths derives from the pagan side of his character; all of his errors reflect his Christian side. (PEN p. 180)

403. Dionysus Against the Spirit. Nietzsche does not see the "Dionysian" predominantly as the alleged counterpart to the "Apollinian"; rather, his viewpoint springs from a profound opposition to everything that is spiritual—and most of all to the disaster of consciousness. (PEN p. 166) 

404. Spirit as a Sickness of Life. When Nietzsche states that "the falseness of a judgment is no refutation of a judgment," he announces a proposition from which we may derive a positive inference: the correctness of a judgment cannot guarantee its truth, or, truth has no value in itself. Likewise, the causes and purposes of the organ of thought are determined by the drive functions, and, therefore, the yardstick with which the organ of thought measures is subjective. One can decide to be for or against the party of logic, and—this is Nietzsche’s most important pronouncement—one joins the party that is against logic to the extent that one stands for the party that is for life, which is against spirit and without logic. Life and spirit stand in opposition to each other, and Nietzsche is surely justified in describing spirit as a sickness of life. (PEN p. 4)

405. Nietzsche’s Marksmanship. Nietzsche’s judicial investigations into the phenomenon of "life-envy" hit the bull’s-eye time and time again, and his discoveries in this area would retain their fundamental significance even if his "master-type" should turn out in the end to be only a thrilling phantom. (PEN p. 127)

406. Friedrich Nietzsche: The World’s "First Psychologist". There are two reasons why we must call Nietzsche the "first psychologist." The first is that he took upon himself, as his major mission, the task of illuminating the historical evolution of general value judgments; this enabled him to construct a propaedeutic for every possible science of the soul. The second was his utilization of this method to scrutinize particular value judgments in order to determine whether or not they constituted critical instantiations of the "will to power"; in such cases, Nietzsche could conclusively demonstrate the presence of self-deception. (PEN p. 65)

407. Nietzsche, Parmenides, and "Socratism". Nietzsche stated (in the volume of his literary remains entitled "The Will to Power"): "Parmenides said: ‘one cannot think what is not’; we take hold of the other end of the stick, and say: what cannot be thought, must be a fiction." The remark is as profound as it is true, if, in fact, it is an expression of the utter inimitability of the condition of judgment and that of actuality; it may be deeply misleading, however, if the word "fiction" is being used here to demonstrate the impossibility of our ever ascertaining the truth. In fact, Nietzsche remained throughout his life bogged down in Socratism, which accounts for the fact that he never pressed through to a clearer distinction between truth and actuality. (SW 1 p. 118)

408. On Nietzsche’s Handwriting. We have encountered no handwritten exemplar from the entire period extending from German Classicism to the turn of the 20th century that bears the slightest resemblance to that of Nietzsche…There is something uniquely radiant, bright, shining like silk, something, as it were, ethereal; it manifests an obvious lack of warmth; this is a man who, although he is deeply rooted in the home, must rise to ever higher, ever colder heights (like the albatross in his poem of that name), one who has only the slightest connection with the profound, subterranean depths, for he sees the world solely through the wide-ranging gaze of the spirit. It is precisely in the downwards and the below that he can see only the "abyss." There is something in this script that is transparent, crystalline—the complete antithesis to the cloudy, the miasmal, the elastic, the gushing, the surging; there is something uncannily hard, sharp, of a glass-like fragility, with a complete absence of the conciliatory—something utterly formed, complete, even, one might say, chiseled…Never before have we encountered an unstylized handwriting that manifested such sharpness and angularity, together with an utterly flawless distribution of the handwritten masses and a sequential organization that almost reminds one of a string of precious pearls! (AC pp. 344-375)

409. Nietzsche as Socratic Thinker. When we examine certain aspects of Nietzsche’s theory of judgment-formation—especially with regard to his opposition to the very notion of the "substrate-concept"—we feel that the customary imputation of a passionate anti-Socratism to Nietzsche is well deserved. His own explicit diatribes in "The Birth of Tragedy" and "The Genealogy of Morals" seem to leave no room for doubt in this regard. Thus, how astonished we are when we encounter other aspects of his thought: for then we see Nietzsche falling into Socratism himself, and even into a rootless skepticism, which he embodies in concepts that he often wields as the lethal weapons with which he seeks to destroy his own discoveries—even when this very procedure is plunging his entire philosophical enterprise into an all-embracing chaos of logical inconsistencies! (PEN p. 181)

410. A Negative Aspect of Nietzsche’s Psychology. The human spirit—not the living organism—is conversant with anarchy: thus, this thinker who had hitherto served as the greatest breaker of chains in the history of mankind, in the end must logically join forces with all of the revolutionaries who went before. Thus, it is not the body—this eternal here and now, this sad and joyous event—that possesses the capacity to wish; on the contrary, it is spirit, restlessly oscillating between time past and time to come, which participates in vitality, but this occurs solely through the mediation of the wish. So we find that Nietzsche consistently howls his rage against the man of the wish and his vampyric "ideals"; he brings to light, as none of his predecessors had ever succeeded in doing, the paradoxical analogy that subsists between the madness of purposefulness and the mummification of the past. The protest of life against the arrogance of consciousness he locates in the protest of the body against the "holy spirit" within!…Nietzsche’s works were born out of the innermost needs of his being and out of his, as it were, self-flagellation. Without a doubt, his productions are vulnerable to the grave accusation that they are redolent of personal biases that render them both dangerous and deceiving. (PEN p. 82)

411. The Wisdom of Lord Byron. Under the legend "Sorrow is Knowledge" [Gram ist Erkenntnis], Nietzsche cites the following verse of Lord Byron’s:

Sorrow is knowledge: those who know the most

Must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth,

The Tree of Knowledge is not that of life.

Now although these lines could hardly have been intended by their author for the purposes to which we will put them, the factual content of Byron’s words entitles us to propose them as the master thesis of a pagan method of cognition, for they point an admonishing finger at the relationship of life to consciousness, and of experience to knowledge, and they perform this office from a perspective that recognizes the genuine processes that pose a threat to life. (PEN pp. 189-90)

412. Eros and Dæmon. Nietzsche’s world is a world of egos, of characters, or, if you prefer, of great personalities; his is a Renaissance world. Nietzsche wished for great, profound, truthful men (his "superman" is no longer merely a man!). Only rarely does he break out of this circle. In general, however, it remains a world of persons, a world whose depths harbor yearning always, but fulfillment never…Nietzsche understood neither Eros nor the dæmonic. We, on the other hand, can understand the one or the other; but only an omniscient thinker can understand them both. (RR p. 522)

413. Nietzsche’s Historical Vision. Nietzsche’s work on the "unmasking" of deception is of especial importance in the investigation of self-deception; in addition, he consummated his labors in this area by presenting us with a synoptic history of deception: therefore, he is the evolutionary theoretician of the characteristic valuations that have been attached to general concepts…Still, there is an additional question as to Nietzsche’s alleged affiliations with certain other thinkers who have customarily been regarded as evolutionary theorists, among whom we mention Darwin…and Spencer. The answer is unambiguous: Nietzsche is their most implacable adversary, for he has clearly seen that they have all managed to persuade themselves that they are competent to investigate the "animal," the "primitive" tribe, and even the "child," before they have undertaken to investigate themselves; their procedure inevitably founders on their ignorant subordination of their data to the moralistic value-conceptions of—today! (PEN 57-8)

414. Biocentric Physiology. Nietzsche’s ceaseless appeals to physiology, though widely dismissed as a mere toying with words, nonetheless expresses a doctrine of the body that, although it is utterly alien to medical doctrine in this area, is based upon a species of "eavesdropping" on the bodily experiences. Admittedly, to some it might appear to be merely an accentuation of observations of both habitual and transitory bodily states. (PEN p. 75)

415. From Stirner to Nietzsche. When we leave the world of Max Stirner and return to the world of Nietzsche, it is as if we had abandoned the polar ice and returned home to Greece! (PEN p. 60)

416. The Birth of Phantoms. Although no one has hitherto brought Nietzsche’s teaching to the hoi polloi, one can well imagine that were such an undertaking to flourish, we would at last have seen just how such legends as those that have attached themselves to the Buddha originated! (PEN p. 74)

417. Nietzsche: Philo-Semite and Germanophobe I. Nietzsche had so little of the "anti-Semite" in his nature that he can scarcely conceive of a more loathsome character than the: "anti-Semite"! Whoever takes the pains to examine Nietzsche’s collected works in order to determine his actual opinion of the Jews—and of the Germans—cannot fail to arrive at the following conclusions: Nietzsche held the Jews in the highest possible esteem; he detests all "anti-Semites"; and he hated the Germans with a blind hatred…

Had Nietzsche lived into the era of the "World War," there can be no doubt as to whom he would have pledged his allegiance: he would certainly have sided with the mortal enemies of Germany! (PEN p. 152)

418. Nietzsche: Philo-Semite and Germanophobe II. It is Nietzsche who informs us that the Jews who have bestowed the "most refined manners" upon Europe.

It is Nietzsche who informs us that the Jews are the great masters of the art of adaptation, the true geniuses of European drama.

It is Nietzsche who praises the Jews as the race that has the most reverence for their forefathers.

It is Nietzsche who finds in the "Old Testament" the best criteria for distinguishing the "great" from the "small."

It is Nietzsche who holds that "In comparison with Luther’s Bible, all other books are mere ‘literature’".

It is Nietzsche who insists that the Jews and the Romans are the two most spiritually virile nations in history.

It is Nietzsche who tells us that the Jews initiated the "grand style" in moral matters…

It is Nietzsche who informs us that the Jews are "the most ancient and best-bred of all the races."

It is Nietzsche who urges the "noble officers of Prussia" to marry Jewesses in order to create "a new ruling caste for Europe."

It is Nietzsche who calls the Bible "the most profound and most important" book in existence.

It is Nietzsche who tells us that the Jews have raised "the dream of ethical nobility to a higher plane than has any other people." 

It is Nietzsche who tells us that the ideas of the Jews are the means by which Europe has achieved its masterful position.

It is Nietzsche whose exaggerated regard for the writings of Heine betrays him into such statements as the following: "Heine’s style is far superior to anything that mere Germans" (!) can hope to achieve!

And similar reflections can be culled by the dozen from Nietzsche’s works! (PEN pp. 223-4)

419. Oasis of the Soul. Even in the midst of the 19th Century, with its technology and its worship of hard facts, we must acclaim, as an oasis in the growing wasteland of "progress," the dream-laden philosophy of life of the German Romantics and the militant religion of life of Friedrich Nietzsche! (SW 3 p. 364)

420. Nietzsche Unbound and Nietzsche in Chains. It can be demonstrated that Nietzsche—this greatest breaker of chains in the history of mankind—was himself a man in chains. While he advances the perfection to be achieved in the extra-personal fullness of ecstatic moments on one side, on the other he discovers—the "superman" and his restless ascent to ever more wretched heights! What Nietzsche himself annihilates from the ground up: the enslavement of life to purposes and to the future, he restores on another plane, so that he finally appears to be intent upon annihilating himself in a veritable frenzy of "self-overcomings." (SW 4 p. 707)

421. Nietzsche in a Nutshell. The following is without a doubt the most elegant formula whereby we can express Nietzsche’s true nature: he was the battlefield between the orgiastic celebrants, whom he was the first to identify and interpret, and the ascetic priestly caste, which he was, here again, the first to unmask for us…To employ the language of myth, Nietzsche was simply the field of battle whereon Dionysus and Jahweh waged their war. We know of no comparable example in all of world history. We have often encountered, and still do encounter, the antithesis: Dionysus vs. Socrates, or, more commonly, Dionysus vs. Jahweh. But that one and the same personality should be possessed by both Dionysus and Jahweh is the most terrible case that the mind can conceive. (PEN p. 210)

422. The Nietzschean Eruption. The author of these lines can well remember—as can the majority of his colleagues who came to maturity during those heady days of the 1890s, and with whom he has often discussed this matter—the explosive impact exerted upon all of us when we first succumbed to the sorcery of Nietzsche’s thought. The effect can only be compared to a raging typhoon, a massive earthquake, or a volcanic eruption…

At the very instant when we begin to read Nietzsche’s books, we feel as if we had been dragged into a magic coach that hurtles at dizzying velocity through infinite landscapes. We are plunged into the bowels of the earth, then we are dropped onto icy glaciers and mountain summits, and all the while the world is shining with a harsh and intense radiance, which is sometimes terrible and threatening, but which is always violent and overpowering. (PEN p. 11)

423. The Last, Dying Wave of Romanticism. The Romantics constituted the ultimate wave, because the very core of terrestrial life died when they died. Surely man has never experienced, nor has he ever suffered more rapturously, the convulsions of being than did the Romantics. Their horizon flamed in the fiery gloaming of farewell, a last, irrevocable severing of the ties.

Only a select few perceived this event. Fewer still understood its implications. Even Nietzsche confused that melancholy and overpowering radiance with the first flush of a new dawn.

I have indulged in such descriptions merely so that the reader might be able to see the reason why we refer to these last, great bearers of the radiance of earth as the dithyrambic bards of destruction. They were surrounded by ghouls and vampires, and their creative work was never really consummated. 

The whole earth reeks as never before with the blood of the slaughtered, and the apelike masses now strut about with the precious spoils that they have plundered from the ravaged temple of life! (SW II p. 923)

424. Biology and Heuristic Expediency. Naturalists, as well as philosophers, repeatedly emphasize the fact that it is impossible to draw a hard and fast line between the animal realm and the plant realm, since there exists no unexceptionable criterion of distinction between the two. Those who would ponder the biological borderlands must content themselves by examining the preponderant "weight of the evidence" on a case-by-case basis. (SW 2 pp. 1081-2)

425. Duality and Polarity. The duality of subject and object rests upon the polarity of experiencing life and appearing event. (SW 3 p. 49)

426. Forms of Polarity. A relationship of polarity exists between positive and negative magnetism, between right hand and left, and between male and female in sexually dimorphous species. (SW 3 pp. 52-3)

427. G. F. Daumer I. G. F. Daumer never employed the term "spirit" in our comprehensive and technical sense, for he restricted his meditations to the spirit of Christianity and to such "Catholic" converts as "Protestantism" and the "secret societies." Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that Daumer was certainly not what we would call a psychologist, we have no hesitation in seeing him as a profound culture-critic and as the indisputable forerunner of Nietzsche’s "Antichrist." (SW 2 p. 902)

428. G. F. Daumer II. The Romantic writer Daumer published in 1847 a work entitled "The Mysteries of Christian Antiquity"; in this volume, Daumer, basing his theories in part upon records and traditions, and in part upon familiar symbols and customs, demonstrates conclusively that ancient Christianity was, in reality, a sect devoted to the appalling god Moloch, whose worshippers have maintained, through uninterrupted millennia, the practice of cultic cannibalism [kultischer Anthropophagie]. Daumer enriches his speculations by adducing profound observations of Bayle (whose meditations are still worthy of perusal even today), which might provide, all things considered, a literal basis for Nietzsche’s accusation: "Christianity is the metaphysics of the hangman." Daumer’s book provides the student of the secret history of Christianity with the most dazzling wealth of material that we have ever encountered. (PEN p. 154)

429. Spirit, the Destroyer. As spirit penetrates deeper and deeper into the life-cell, it transforms both body and soul. The changes are expressed in the physiognomy of the body as well as in the ascent of technology. In the arena of the soul the effects of spirit lead immediately to alterations in the emotional life, which find expression in the dwindling of poetic and artistic creativity. In the end, spirit can only express itself through the medium of "ideas." (SW 2 913)

430. Spirit and History. Historical man is the battleground whereon two forces struggle for supremacy: actuality, which we call life, and an acosmic power, which we call spirit. (SW 2 p. 912)

431. Experience and Judgment. The pole of experience corresponds to the pole of the phenomenal world; the pole of judgment corresponds to the pole of the objective world. AG p. 74)

432. Volition and Expression. The direction of volition is determined by the individual, but the expressive movement is determined by the species. (AG p. 72)

433. Expression and Symbol. The expressive movement is to the volitional movement as the living symbol is to the factual judgment: in brief, the expressive movement is the symbol of the action. (AG p. 72)

434. On Space. Perceived space is essentially different from mathematical space. Mathematical space is infinite; perceived space is finite. In mathematical space, the dimensions are interchangeable; this is not the case with perceived space. Thus, in perceived space, we find an actual over and an actual under; an actual before and an actual behind; and an actual left and an actual right. Mathematical space is colorless and silent; perceived space is filled with color and sound. Mathematical space is disembodied; perceived space is embodied. (AG pp. 117-8)

435. What is "Graphology"? The word "Graphology" certainly does not mean: "the science of writing." Its real meaning is the doctrine that treats handwriting as one of the expressions of character; it comprises as well the scientific investigation of the ultimate origins of the writing movement. These are, obviously, rooted in the bodily constitution. Movements sometimes possess a psychical content; sometimes they are devoid of such content. Most of the so-called "reflex processes"—coughing, sneezing, blinking of the eyes, increased production of saliva while eating, the flexing of the skeletal structure while reaching down to touch the floor, and even in the trembling movement that we find so often in the elderly—are without psychical content. On the other hand, other actions—such as the grasping of a book, which no one doubts originates in the conscious fact of an act of will—do possess a psychical content. Now there exists no fact of consciousness "in- and for-itself," but only as a condition of a living personality. Thus, in every volitional movement personality plays the key role. (SW 8 p. 703)

436. History of Graphology. Graphology has a "pre-history" as well as a history in the strict sense. The pre-history reaches as far back as the Renaissance. We can name dozens of students who shared the conviction that there was a characterological value in the analysis of handwriting. We point to Hocquart in France and Henze in Germany (Henze would later be active in Sweden) as noteworthy exponents of early graphology. This pre-history came to an end when the French researcher Michon published his renowned "System of Graphology" in 1875. In that treatise, the author—who was a profound student of man—set down the observations that he had made over a thirty-year period. He believed that he had discovered revealing correspondences between character-traits and handwritten exemplars.

The history of Graphology in the proper sense belongs exclusively to the German lands, and this development can best be examined in the three following works, all of which embody decisive advances over the previous efforts: Wilhelm Preyer’s "On the Psychology of Writing" (first issued in 1895; second edition brought out by Leopold Voss of Leipzig); Georg Meyer’s "The Scientific Foundations of Graphology" (first edition in 1901; subsequent editions published by Fischer of Jena); and, finally, my own "Handwriting and Character" (which made its fist appearance in 1901; later editions were published by J. A. Barth of Leipzig). (SW 8 p. 803) 

437. White Night. This night is harshly bright, like coldly ringing glass. An imperceptible flood seems to have seized everything that lives in its embrace, and even dead things stare, as with sallow gaze, into a dangerous domain. Massive dark-green cloud-waves roll throughout the heavens. Whitish breakers shine brightly above hidden reefs. Moonlight drips through the cracks and crevices. Signals swiftly sound and flash in the deep blue of the distance. A paler haze rises high above the towers of the great city. (RR p. 232) 

438. On the Greatness of E. M. Arndt. Thanks to Arndt’s renowned and passionate love of the German fatherland—in the noblest sense of that expression—he became the deadliest critic of the very century in which he had been born—i.e., the 18th. He established the fact that all of the defects, blunders, and weaknesses of that age had their source in its "rationalism," i.e., its cult of reason, in which Arndt saw the workings of spirit, which separates itself from the soul, from the body, and, ultimately, " from the earth." Thenceforth, he scrutinized the entire history of western man from the same thematic perspective; he concluded that every defect, blunder, and weakness to be found in Europe’s entire past derives from the destructive workings of the identical divisive force: spirit. (SW 2 p. 902)

439. Thought and Symbol. One may well ask if there exists a fundamentally different species of cognition [from the logical sort], which, so to speak, utilizes its own concepts so as to enable us to hold fast to our living experience. There is indeed such a species of cognition, and we find it in the symbolic thought of pre-historic cultures. (SW 3 p. 332)

440. On Modern Thought. Today we are witnessing an unprecedented "de-naturing" of thought, and we should not deceive ourselves: it will ultimately end in the complete ignorance of a new dark age. (SW 3 p. 333)

441. The Decline of Thought. For about a century now the foreground of research into the human sciences has been occupied by psychology—literally, "the science of the soul"—which, in its turn, presupposes the existence of "biology" (literally, "the science of life"), since the concept of the soul can have no meaning in the absence of a living essence in which it may dwell. But when we look back at the achievements of the so-called "Romantic Philosophy," we must acknowledge that ever since the Romantic period, we have managed to entangle ourselves in all sorts of confusion in our utilization of basic concepts, so that philosophy now threatens to yield completely to systematic doubt ("skepticism"); it seems that we are about to renounce the very idea of knowledge itself! While man’s adherence to the example of the mechanistic "world-view" has allowed him to pile up mountains of "facts," and while the engineering of his dazzling apparatus has enabled him to achieve the greatest precision in experimental research, he has long since forgotten just why he has need of all this extravagance! (SW 3 p. 332)

442. On Veils and Mysteries. Mysteries…neither desire to be, nor can they be, "unriddled." A mystery from which the veil that obscures it has been torn is, indeed, no longer a mystery at all. Those who respect the integrity of the concealing veil are those natures who prefer metaphysics to any form of "redemption." The actualization of a primordial mystery transforms it into "cognition." One should never inquire into the primal origins; but one can ask all sorts of questions about essences, such as the essence of light, the essence of science, or even, if you wish, the essence of the copula "and"! (SW 3 pp. 332-3)

443. Concept and Meaning. The concept, as it were, belongs to the meaning of the word. The concept is related to the meaning—if we might employ an analogy—as the minute crystal is related to the matrix-solution from which it has been precipitated at the moment when the crystal separates from the solution and its form is rigidly fixed. The concept can be defined, but the meaning-content of a word never. The concept thinks through the medium of the word; the meaning-content can only be experienced on the basis of a profound feeling for language. The concept can be permanently established; but the meaning-content only mocks those who would place it in shackles. (AG pp. 212-3)

444. On the "Actuality of the Images". All primitive cultures have experienced that which the critical rigor of the Greeks also brought to consciousness: the enhancement of the actual. Since we tend to confuse actuality with being, it appears to us as nonsensical when we witness the whole of Greek philosophy endorsing the comparative series: actual, more actual, and most actual. We attempt at least to enter sympathetically into this idea of "enhancement," and we must conclude, without further ado, that the most actual must be the most valuable. Thus, we view the ultimate determining ground of all gradations of value according to degrees of actuality...But the thought of the enhancement of the actual arises solely from the images (allegedly of the so-called external world, although we are in fact referring to images purely and simply, and therefore we include among these images the visions and phantoms of our dreams). Thus, the ultimate ground of all judgments regarding actuality resides in the images. (AG p. 151)

445. Time and Memory. Through untold millennia stretches the umbilical cord of primal memory; and just as a wine improves with age, so does primal memory send its smoke higher the longer it has slept in the chthonic urn. (LK GL p. 238)

446. The Elemental Vision. The elemental vision signals rebirth; within us, the element recalls its limitlessness amid the primordial flux, as element and flux devour themselves anew: the winds, the trees, and the stars now speak. Through immeasurably distant ages, death and birth greet the soul of man in the wavering blade of grass, and they hear the dark inner night of the blood of man in the falling rain, as it trickles through the leaves outside. (LK GL p. 239)

447. The Fire of Life. The past is the hearth-fire of life. Every profoundly living being is great only through its origins. (LK GL p. 239)

448. Time and Image. Only that which once occurred can embody itself in the image, and the gaze of the soul is by necessity directed backwards. Out of time’s abyss the consciousness of the past breaks into man as the flowering of the elemental powers. (LK GL p. 239)

449. The Fate of the Images. With every diminution of the elemental past, there is a concomitant decrease in the ability of consciousness to receive the images. Hence, there is a decline in the majesty, depth, and beauty of the images. (LK GL p. 239)

450. The Ancient Souls. The present escapes the danger of emptiness only when it is stirred by the primordial images of the past; the moment is only filled to the brim with life when the souls of olden times renew themselves within us. (LK GL p. 239)

451. The Soul and its Moments. Without a connection to the images of times past, the soul’s moments would be utterly empty. (LK GL p. 239)

452. From a Letter Written During the First World War. In millions of hearts those ancient words are shining: love of the fatherland. Those words stand for an all-conquering faith, a faith that arouses within us those feelings that are the strongest and deepest ties that bind human society together. Nevertheless, we who—unhappily!—see through words to the facts behind them, know that the state has long since usurped the rightful place of the fatherland. We know as well that our victory in this war would only mean the victory of dams, factories, and the Jewish Press. That is the reality of the "German Fatherland"!…And what needs to be said today is this: the blood of our young men is being shed solely for the benefit of Judaism! (LK GL p. 616) 

453. The Golem as Man of the Future. The Golem is bound up with the problem of vampirism, for the Golem is but a particular species of vampire…He is, in fact, the "man of the future"! He is that man—or non-man—over whom the machine will exercise complete domination. Already, the machine has liberated itself from man’s control; it is no longer man’s servant: in reality, man himself is now being enslaved by the machine. (LK GL p. 678)

454. Absolute Truth and Relative Truth. The phenomenon of individual partisanship has nothing whatsoever to do with the question as to the absolute or the relative nature of truth. I consider my fundamental discoveries to be not only absolutely true, but also to be completely demonstrable. I have discussed these matters with the shrewdest thinkers of my time, and yet I have never encountered among them—even among those who were explicitly hostile to my entire philosophical enterprise—anyone who was able to refute even a single judgment of mine. The meaning-content of our judgment is relative, but only as regards an individual’s choice of the party to which he will give his allegiance. The duality of spirit and life that I have established is as firmly grounded as any mathematical truth. The only thing that remains in dispute is whether it is more appropriate for an individual to adhere to the party of life or to the party of spirit. One is free to opt for either party without fear of contradiction. On the other hand, one can certainly discern the presence of deception as soon as a member of the party of spirit seeks to deny the existence of the essential disparity between spirit and life. (LK GL p. 697)

455. From a Letter. What you have described as an inner "guide" [Führer] recalls to mind the fact that throughout the ancient world we repeatedly encounter the similar phenomenon of the "Doppelgänger"—among the Persians it was the "fravashi;" among the Greeks we find the "eidolon;" and among the Romans we have both the "genius" and the "numen." (LK GL p. 698)

456. "Romantic" and "Classical". With regard to the relationship between the "romantic" (or elemental) and the "classical" modes of life-feeling, we admit that the Goethean variety of "self-control" is certainly the most masterful that has been achieved in modern times; but it remains, after all, just that: mere self-control; and we may be sure that this Goethean attitude of spirit will never enable us to reach the elemental reaches of the cosmic horizon of life. (LK GL p. 698)

457. Stewards of the World. The impulse to guard or protect the world [Weltgeborgenheit] is quite similar to our attachment to our family, to our race or nation, to our home-town, to our state, to our species, to our planet, and to our universe, in that the bonds in question constitute real connections and not merely spiritual relationships. Such true connections can only arise between one living being and another, for the connections are themselves the fundamental forms of all living being. In bygone days we expressed these perceptions through the medium of metaphysics, or, in the vernacular, through religion, so that what we now refer to as world-connection or world-protection binds the individual soul to the world-mystery…Every diminution of this sense of mystery ensures, among other things, that man’s activities, his vocation, his pleasures, and in the end his entire life, become devoid of mystery. This accounts for all of the shallowness, the triteness, and the banality of our age; and upon such foundations, the goal-obsessed Mammonism of today has erected its house! (LK GL pp. 1113-4)

458. Hellenism. Hellenic measure and Hellenic Eros are one and the same. (RR p. 304)

459. The Meaning of Dialectic. Philosophical dialectic thrives on the impulse to transcend conceptual thought. (RR p. 305)

460. On Repeating an Experience. Nothing ever recurs. Each experience is unique and unrepeatable. (RR p. 306)

461. Origin of Malice. Why is this man so quarrelsome and malicious? He feeds on his envy. (RR p. 307)

462. The Poles of Time. The past and the present—and not the past and the future—are the poles of time. (SW 3 p. 434)

463. On Eternity. Reality exists eternally, and time is the pulse-beat of eternity. (SW 3 p. 435)

464. Poetry as Living Form. Poetry is an ecstatic vital force. The life of the poet is an inner poetry. Poetic experience is the magical experience of language. (RR p. 243)

465. Soul and Destiny. Every soul bears from birth the color of its destiny. It has no need to think clearly about its fate, for it well understands the dream-images of creative ecstasy that shine before it. (RR p. 254) 

466. Grounds for Love. We love only those with whom we share both revelry and grief. (RR p. 256)

467. Feeling and Life. The most emotional man is not necessarily the most alive. (RR p. 256)

468. The Element of Life. Purple and fiery is the living creative element: but it appears as flame in this one, heat in that. (RR p. 256)

469. The Pharaoh and the "One God". As an embodiment of the hostility of the allegedly monotheistic, but in actuality atheistic, attitude of thought towards the polytheistic vision, the history of religious beliefs provides one instance that, in its immediate, illustrative force, surpasses even the development of Jewish "monotheism." We allude to the attempt of the Egyptian monarch Amenhotep IV, who adopted the name Akhenaton, i.e., "the shining disc of the sun," to overturn the innumerable dæmonic cults of his people, and to replace them with the worship of the "one true godhead"…

These were the results: on the Pharaoh’s side, a bitterly fanatical struggle against all the cultic sites of the polytheists…On the side of the people, whom he had sought to please with his "higher wisdom," a passionate and ever-increasing opposition, which, in just a few years, led to the annihilation of his work, the shattering of his great temples, the consigning of the emperor’s teachings to the death of forgotten things, and the reestablishment of an unlimited polytheism, which was to last until the very end of the history of Pharaonic Egypt! (SW 2 p. 1266) 

470. Hate and the Prophets. The victorious "monotheism" of the prophets of Israel achieved the astonishing trick of raising to the position of personal "lord" of the whole world," purely and simply their own boundless hatred towards the true divinity of this world. (SW 2 p. 1266)

471. On the English Philosophy of the "Tabula Rasa". If the chick that has only just left the egg immediately pecks at the grain, then without a doubt it has recognized the significance of the grain in serving to satisfy its hunger; similarly the duckling discovers its true element in the water into which—literally without reflection—it dives. The example is often cited of the species of wasp that brings to its larvae certain organisms that it has paralyzed, but not killed, with complicated stings, because they are destined later to serve as living food for its young. Thus the wasp appears to manifest the knowledge of a profoundly schooled anatomist, though, in fact, it cannot possibly have acquired such specialized knowledge. A horse, which has hitherto never encountered a beast of prey, is immediately seized by panic fear when it scents a lion and gallops way in wild flight: thus, the horse recognizes the significance of the scent of the lion, at least with reference to itself. These examples might be multiplied to infinity in order to demonstrate irrefutably the error of the English sensualists when they speak of the soul as of a "blank tablet": for, though the soul bring no impressions with it into the world, it does bring a disposition for the interpretation of the world. These dispositions are commonly referred to as "innate instincts." (SW 4 p. 254)

472. Inner and Outer. Of all of the profound utterances of Novalis, one of the deepest is the following: "The site of the soul is located at the point of connection between the outer world and the inner," and of all the errors that originate in the faith in the actuality of things, one of the most absurd has resulted in the lunatic attempt to locate the "site" of the soul within the anatomy. The contrast of symbolic depth and symbolic surface is justified; but the "road inward" (which is represented in Heraclitus as the "road upward"!) is the road leading away from the appearances ("surfaces") and into the depths wherein they appear, and certainly not from the natural exterior of the body to the matter with which it is filled. (SW 2 p. 1141)

473. Robbery as Good Business. Morality begins at the moment when theft is organized and its operations are re-christened with the name of "trade." Nietzsche may well have been on the right track when he located the source of the idea of justice in the sense of guilt. The recognition that "what is fitting to one is just to another," presupposes an abstraction not only from the inner sentiments; it also entails an even more fundamental abstraction, the one that establishes the great divide between egoism and racial instinct. It is at this point that man takes the first step beyond racial instinct and into the superstitious belief in "humanity." (RR p. 398)

474. Images and Souls. Every one of my books harbors within it a key thesis; to my sorrow, not one of my readers seems to have been able to discover this secret. The reader may, in fact, be aware of the thesis, but he is somehow blind to the fact that it constitutes the key to the matter in hand!…The key to my book on the "cosmogonic Eros," for instance, is this proposition: the primordial images are the phenomenal souls of the past. (LK GL p. 1076)

475. The Power of the Word. One hears a lot of talk about the poverty of language, and it is said that words are inadequate to express our deepest experiences; it is, perhaps, more accurate to speak of a poverty of experience, which in countless instances borrows only a semblance of significance from the display of words in which it clothes itself. Life, which has coagulated into speech, in ardor and wildness and in spiritual range leaves far behind the ultimate heights and depths in the life of the individual (apart from the dim feelings of earliest youth); and for this reason alone, it still possesses the power, once it is stirred, to transport the soul even now with an almost supernatural sorcery, carrying it into a whirlpool of more-than-human experience, unattainable otherwise: and a great poet leads us into an unknown magical kingdom, solely because he is blessed with the genius of language. (SW 4 p. 230)

476. Images are not Ideas. Neither the Romantics, with their startling concept of "cosmic consciousness," nor Bachofen, nor Nietzsche, were able to arrive at a crucial discovery that I eventually had to track to its lair on my own: that vision, feeling, and perception, are fundamental functions of the soul, and that these functions, strictly speaking, are analogous to the revelatory activity of the images…However, the greatest danger that the student must avoid in this area is the temptation to confuse these images with the Platonic or neo-Platonic "ideas." (LK GL p. 1073)

477. Romantic Dialecticians. There is no greater idiocy than the belief that the true mystics and the true Romantics have murky minds. Precisely the opposite is the case. We find the most rigorous dialecticians, without exception, among the Romantics! (LK GL p. 1078)

478. Little Man Luther. Had the petit bourgeois Luther possessed even a fraction of the radiant understanding of the mystic Meister Ekkehard, his "Protestantism" would have been less completely enslaved by the "letter of the law." (LK GL p. 1078)

479. Imagination and the Sexes [From a Letter]. You have said that you are convinced that the soul of woman is dreamier and closer to the images than is the soul of man. In my view, this is completely erroneous. I ask you now to call to mind the truly significant individuals with whom you have come in contact during the course of your life. Ask yourself: all other things being equal, is it man or woman who possesses the larger endowment of imagination? I have been involved for many years with the characterological study of problems relating to the distinctions between the sexes, and I must say: even among the most outstanding women whom I have known, I found none who possesses a consequential power of imagination. Now someone might object that the psychology of women may well have altered since primitive times. I respond: yes, but men have undoubtedly changed to an even greater degree. If you ignore the so-called "emancipated" variety, you will certainly find that, in important matters, contemporary woman more closely resembles her ancestors than contemporary man resembles his forbears. The lack of imagination in women is obvious throughout recorded history, and one must doubt that the situation has changed since pre-historic times. In the whole of recorded history, there have been only two supremely gifted poetesses: Sappho and Droste! (LK GL pp. 1076-7)

480. Mind Against Life. The awakening of self-consciousness is the declaration of war issued by a hostile god against life. Man is henceforth forever separated from star and storm. (RR p. 423)

481. "Know Thyself". It is no harmless inscription that looms over the entrance to the shrine at Delphi: this inscription announces the onset of the faith in a transcendent world. Greek life allows itself to be guided by this faith; Pelasgian wisdom perishes at its approach. (RR p. 423)

482. Back to the Ardor of the Primal Soul. Burckhardt paved a road back to the immoralism of the Renaissance, where at least part of his nature was content to remain; Bachofen, who belonged to Burckhardt’s generation, probed incomparably deeper, and he eventually penetrated all the way back to that chthonic substratum in which the pre-moralistic conception of the world, not merely of the Mediterranean peoples, but the whole of mankind, has its roots. Boecklin captured in the medium of color, and Conrad Ferdinand Meyer fixed in the medium of the word, the spectacle of a primordial world for which, in the end, Nietzsche, who was in large part a successor to these pivotal figures, discovered the symbol that would stand as the emblem of all such visions: he gave it the name of the god of masks, Dionysus. (LK GL p. 82)

483. Autobiographical Note. In my youth two essences, the human and the demonic, gathered strength, grew, and matured within me, and they developed without my being able to distinguish one from the other. It was a time of the darkest meditations…of unknowing blessedness, the time of my fullest and deepest experience. It was Peer Gynt before he was torn away from the ardent night of the maternal breast. (LK GL p. 24)

484. The Poet and the Gods. The poet expresses the last tragic flaring up in Western culture of the world of the gods against the "one god" of the Levant. (LK GL p. 51)

485. Myth and Symbol. To understand the convictions of a believer one must know the system of mythology out of which they arose; to understand the myth, one must know the symbol that embodies it. To understand the symbol, however, one must know the unique experience that gave birth to it; that type of knowledge can never be mediated by critical judgment. (SW 3 p. 415)

486. Ibsen and the "Life-Lie". The young people of today can form no conception of the power of the influence that Ibsen’s works had upon the young people of the 1890s. His impact was centered less upon his poetic side, which was only briefly disclosed in his "Peer Gynt," than it was upon his outspoken battle against those ideological "life-lies," with which the furtive, atomized forces of the latter half of the 19th Century so colorfully clothed themselves. (LK GL p. 72)

487. On Gestures. The philosophy of antiquity had already divided the expressive phenomena into two significant groups (significatio and gestus scenicus), and this distinction has recently been revived in our mime and pantomime. The simplest example of pantomime is the gesture of pointing. On the other hand, the majority of expressive movements belong not to the imitative, but to the reflexive or, one might say, retroactive processes. (AG p. 114)

488. A Warning. I could fill many notebooks with the most precise records of the plundering of my ideas. These acts of theft were certainly not unconscious, but rather blatantly intentional. Now should these burglars continue their activities, the day may come when I will no longer be content to scribble the names of the offenders in private notebooks. At such a time, I will openly publish these records, naming names and unmasking the vileness of the thieves’ methods. Then everyone will be able to see with crystal clarity that this sort of robbery is not merely systematic, but it is also characteristic of the misdeeds of a certain racial element. What we’re dealing with here is something far greater than the robbing of one individual. In fact what I have discovered might even be said to constitute a significant contribution to the history of the "culture of the modern age"; this tale might also serve as a revelation of the furtive procedures adopted by envious souls. Publication will certainly startle more than one or two of these clever connoisseurs! (SW 2 pp. 1535-6)

489. Benjamin Franklin. From Franklin’s autobiography we learn that this man, who discovered and popularized the slogan "Time is money," in the course of his life established thirteen "virtues," the last of which, "humility," is relevant to his aforementioned proposition regarding time and money. All of his so-called virtues orbit around one particular virtue: thrift. One has to exercise thrift in one’s eating, drinking, sexual intercourse, movements, words, tasks, feelings, time, etc. For Franklin, "virtue" means every quality and form of personal conduct that can serve to promote the spirit of thrift and keep that spirit before the eyes of one’s fellow earthlings. Franklin represents the achievement of a type, viz., that of the homme clos, of the man whose personal character is covered over, in approximate accord with the following scheme: purpose = the accumulation of cash ("Mammon"); the mediator of that purpose: thrift, systematized upon a daily and even hourly basis = the methodical adjustment of all impulses, inclinations, and wishes towards the sacred goal of profit. In other words: the first, second, and third precept is taking, whilst giving might be indulged in only to the extent that it will result in greater profits in the long run!

By the middle of the 18th Century, Franklin’s "The Road to Riches" had been translated into sixteen languages, including Chinese. For all of these reasons, we place Franklin at the head of the pack of early capitalists. As we can see from his notebooks, with their embarrassingly exact division of the working day (comprising both spoken and written efforts), he lays claim to just six hours for his own uses. That would be a scandalous waste of time from the standpoint of a representative of the later phase of "high" capitalism…And certainly Franklin’s attitude towards Mammon shows us that he is merely a pathfinder for those who would one day reduce life to the level of a "prosperous" and "care-free" existence…

During the phase of high capitalism, man is finally to be converted into a mere economic function. (SW 5 p. 485) 

490. Ancient Records. Among the remains of ancient peoples there are no documentary records of the inner life that can match speech for sheer strength and directness; but this document cannot evade the necessity for psychological interpretation. Consciousness has crystallized in innumerable shapes, and all that is required of the student is a clear eye in order for him to be able to "read" in buildings, ornaments, and images, the confirmation and the complement of the evidence that actions historically vouched-for can furnish regarding the characterology of their authors. There is available here such a mass of material as never yet was the property of any science, and we would already be in the certain possession of the vastest knowledge, if only our historians possessed that psychological amazement that raises, whenever we are faced with any kind of form, work, or type of activity, the right questions as to what might be the forces that have produced these things. For the first time, customs, sagas, and conceptions of gods, costumes, and household articles, languages and systems of writing, can, and must, be interrogated deliberately, without any preconceived notions as to their origins. These data are to be understood; and, being understood, they will aid us in the completion of our picture of man. (SW 4 236)

491. The Gates of Death. To my mind death is the ultimate fulfillment of life, and whether it is the song of a human voice or the storm-wind as it uproots the forest that opens the gates of death, it is all one to me. (RR p. 522)

492. Eros Cosmogonos. Eros is not just a fine, blind, animalistic sensuality; we must be more precise: Eros is sensuality at the very moment of its realization. He who is inhabited by Eros-Dionysus becomes a dæmon whilst he yet remains a man. Such a man sees through the shadow-body of things into the flaming night of the images. He himself is destiny; he himself incarnates a Medusean dread. The streams of earth, the storms of heaven, and the starry vault above are all within him, and his power reaches beyond the orbit of Saturn. (RR p. 523)

493. Towards a Pagan Metaphysics. A pagan metaphysical system would not be philosophy as one understands that word today, i.e., the hair-splitting rehashing of such life-alien concepts as would be appropriate to the lecture-hall; nor would it be characterized by that sort of factitious profundity that seeks to conceal its utter inability to solve the riddles of thought behind a veil of second-rate poetic fables. Neither should a genuine pagan metaphysics resemble that which passes for science in the modern world, for science, in spite of its outstanding achievements, is in danger of becoming the mere discovery in cognition of truths which may be necessary, but which are also, considered from the standpoint life, utterly unimportant. Before we can discover truths that go to the very roots, we must possess a greater fund of inwardness than can be discerned in those thinkers who, for at least the last five hundred years, have expended their energies exclusively within the realm of reason. (RR p. 373)

494. On the Will and its Suppression of the Emotions. The so-called capacity of the will constitutes a capacity for suppressing the emotions, or more briefly, a capacity for self-control; but we must also bear in mind that self-control at certain times serves to realize external events of volition, and at other times it operates for its own sake. The self-mastery that a "saint," a "yogi," or any other ascetic requires, great as it undoubtedly is, nevertheless is still a very different matter from the self-control that a Napoleon needs on a thousand occasions in order to realize his plans for conquest. (SW 4 p. 228)

495. On the Panoramic Enormity of the Mountain Range. These rigid peaks of ice invite comparison with the deeds of a world-conqueror: harsh and inexorable, dreadful, radiating an iron, unfeeling lack of soul. The mountain range, from its bottommost stratum to its loftiest heights, has no soul.

How different is the sea, where the elemental soul is truly alive. (LK GL p. 131)

496. A Philosopher (with a Doctorate in Chemistry) Reflects on Science. Every science has to achieve clarity regarding that which it must do, by pondering from the loftiest perspective that which it can do. That even now we cannot express chemical processes in terms of physical equations is transparently clear. But it is equally certain that at least 75% of all the discoveries of modern science are completely without significance. The annual publication of new compounds shows that in most cases the results of our research have not the slightest importance. It is merely mendacious to claim that these trivial discoveries constitute interim stages on the high road to truly significant syntheses. No one has even come close to convincing us of the truth of that point of view! We produce according to the yardstick of traditional and readily accessible methods a superabundance of material whose existence (or non-existence) has no scientific value whatsoever. (The results that have been exploited by technological concerns, of course, are divorced from the realm of true science.) Thus, we are led to the conclusion that for all of our active scientists (especially our "great" organic chemists of today) the authentic goals of true science have been utterly lost. (LK GL p. 147)

497. A Prophecy (From 1897). The culture of Europe is about to be devoured by Pan-Slavic barbarism; thereupon will follow a fight to the death between Slavic and Mongol hordes; ultimately, the crucial battle will be fought between the European continent and an ascendant America.

Fragments of our intuitive culture may be rescued, but in all likelihood such remnants will be scarcely more comprehensible to posterity than ancient Egypt is to us today. (LK GL p. 161)

498. Honoring the Dead. Nothing seems to have been regarded as of greater importance to the ancient Pelasgians, than the solemnity with which they conducted their funerary rites and the great care which they bestowed upon the mortal remains. The most overwhelming dramatic creation of the entire ancient world celebrates the heroic self-sacrifice of Antigone, who so tenderly obeyed her sacred duty when she buried her fallen brothers. This theme is certainly without peer, especially if we measure it against the "poetry" of our own days! 

Originally, those ancient interments were probably within the house, perhaps beneath the hearth-fire. In later days, the remains were laid to rest in the very center of the village. Then, they were placed before the city-walls or city-gates; eventually the dead were buried somewhere in the marketplace, or in the Prytaneum, or in the plaza of the polis. Thus, at Olympia we find the grave of Pelops alongside the great altar that was dedicated to Zeus; and these burial-sites were always venerated as being the burial chambers of daemons. (One example must suffice: the temple of Apollo at Delphi was constructed atop the crypt of the mother-goddess Python.)…

Tombs were always regarded as holy, for they were often no less than the "sacred grove" or the "blessed mountain" of so many peoples: the Manitou-stone of the Amerindians, the pagodas of the Chinese, and the stupas of the culture of the Indian sub-continent, are just a few examples of this phenomenon. The souls of the dead floated and soared above and around the gravestones, which were oftentimes carved in the likeness of a great serpent, who dwelt therein as the genius loci, the Agatho-daemon, who endlessly dispenses blessings upon the house of the living.

The entire culture of the ancient Romans recalled their primordial roots when they honored their domestic ancestral spirits, the "Lares," just as the Shintoists in Japan honor their own ancestors even now. The nations of antiquity, along with the so-called "primitive" cultures that have survived into our own times, all bestow homage upon the noble dead.

From this honoring of the dead there arose the Hellenic Agon, which is a sensual and visible commemoration of the endless cycle of coming to be and passing away. We must understand that these peoples were not filled with dread of ghosts from whom they assiduously sought to protect themselves; instead, we perceive the loving respect tendered by all of those now living as they, expressing a different form of love, enroll the newly deceased on the honor-roll that bears the names of the noble figures of the past. These customs are enshrined in cultic rites, some of which are immediately comprehensible, while others seems to signify certain profoundly significant mysteries: but all such rituals reveal that the celebrants regard the deceased as forever standing "within life"! (SW III pp. 443-4)

499. Matter and Image. The school of thought that portrays matter as the substratum that supports the world of perception is merely concocting a "thought-thing" [Gedankending], and this false teaching was devised, of course, to advance spirit’s all-conquering impulse to subject physical movements to the rule of a quantifying formalism. Matter, considered as the habitation of the images (the very word "matter" betrays the fact), attempts to inhabit a dark hemisphere of actuality, a realm that, without the living light of phenomenal appearances, would be utterly unthinkable. (SW III p. 459)

500. The Perfected Ecstasy. In the rush of ecstasy, life seeks to liberate itself from the chains of spirit. Perfection is achieved when the soul awakens, and the awakened soul is vision. What is revealed is the actuality of the primordial images. The primordial images are the phenomenally appearing souls of the past. (SW III p. 470)

501. Image and Thing. We formulate the following dualities: The image has presence only in the instant during which it is experienced. The thing is "established" once and for all.

The image passes away, just as experience passes away. The thing is rigidly fixed, enduring, standing always in life-alien enmity.

The image is only there in the experience as it is lived. The thing is an arbitrary percept available to anyone.

In the image I can summon to my recollection something from the vanished immemorial past; however, I cannot incorporate that memory in a spontaneous judgment. With regard to the thing, since it is now exactly what it is at any time, and in any space, I can always comprehend a thing, and by means of my critical judgment, I can arrive at identical reference points that are quite sufficient for general purposes.

The image, deeply connected to the stream of time, transforms itself, as it transforms everything that is esteemed by the living soul. The thing, since it is outside the realm of time, collapses, fittingly, into utter destruction.

The image is received by the soul. The thing runs aground through the critical activity of spirit.

The image is independent of conscious reality. The thing is a concept in the world of consciousness, and exists solely for the inner life of a discrete person.

So: Whoever shatters his personal existence in order to embark on an attempt to experience true ecstasy will discover, in that very moment, that the world of facts has perished, and that there has arisen within him all the overwhelming force of a now-vibrant actuality. This actuality is the world of the images. The visionary soul is its inner pole, whilst the appearing actuality is its outer pole…

Recall the words of Novalis: "The outer world is only an inner one that has been raised to the condition of secrecy." (SW III pp. 416-7)

502. On Truth and Actuality. From time immemorial, the vexed question regarding a general criterion of truth has remained unanswerable, as any proposed solution would presuppose the validity of that which is in question. It is also unnecessary that we establish such a criterion, since there are numerous propositions, both factual and philosophical, that possess such inherently compelling force that we habitually refer to them as "immediately self-evident." Still, it is crucial that we understand that the expressions "true" and "false" pertain only to our judgments. In a world wherein there existed no thinking consciousness, such predicates would be utterly devoid of meaning.

Even if all of the discrete sciences should decide to co-ordinate their efforts so as to achieve one universal science that would be based upon correct and incontrovertible judgments, there would still be two opposed camps within that one scientific discipline when it came to the question regarding the actuality-content of scientific judgments. The first group would explain as mere objects of thought that which the other camp would hold to be actuality itself; one group would see mere appearance in that which the other considered to be genuine substance. The one camp (which today constitutes the majority party) again falls into two sub-divisions, known as "idealists" and "materialists." The school of idealists, whose founding father is Plato, insists that the ultimate realities are concepts ("ideas," "representations"). The school of materialists, whose founding father is Democritus, hold that concepts are merely propositions that have been designed so as to correspond with objects. Above all, however, objects are objects of thought, which we comprehend with the aid of concepts: thus, both parties endorse the faith in the creative, or the formative, power of the (human) spirit, the idealist consciously, the materialist (for the most part) unconsciously. Therefore, we call the camp of the majority, comprising both the "idealist" and the "realist," the logocentric school.

The minority party, the party of opposition, we call the biocentric school. Its representatives look upon the matters in question as follows: all the proper objects of thought, both those mediated by thought and those immediately given, arise out of the sphere of actuality, but they do not contain actuality; for actuality can only be experienced, never conceived. Likewise, an understanding of the actual is certainly possible, but this understanding can never be exhaustively explained or conceptualized. The science of actuality is the science of appearances; the science of appearances strives to achieve a profound comprehension of the content of experience. Its aim is the discovery of that which Goethe referred to as "primal phenomena," in which the meaning of the world reveals itself…

Suppose that two individuals were successively to count the same one hundred dollars, and suppose also that one of the two had been born blind. Now these individuals’ perceived images of the dollar bills would easily be distinguished from each other. However, that also holds true, if to a lesser degree, of the perceived images experienced by every living being; indeed, this also holds true of the perceived images in one and the same bearer of perception in different moments of his life. It follows that experiences can never be identically repeated.

In our judgments, we do not perceive reds or blues or colors as generalities; nor do we perceive sounds, tastes, and tactile sensations as generalities; nor do we perceive feelings of thirst or hunger, feelings of hope, yearning and expectation as generalities. What our judgments of the world do achieve in fact is this and this alone: we distinguish the multiform qualities, outer as well as inner, from each other. The qualities are thereby presupposed in the experiences. Our conceptions are derived from the qualities, since the conceptions are abstracted from the vital experience that is received. Whoever regards the objects of thought as actuality, confuses the boundaries that divide the objects with that which has established those boundaries. Conceptual thought must yield place to referential thought. The science of appearances, or the science of actuality, is the science not of conscious thought, but of referential thought.

In the major work of the author of these lines, "Spirit as Adversary of the Soul" [Der Geist als Widersacher der Seele], we present the proof of our contention that the objects of thought, both in the "idealist" and the "materialist" incarnations, cannot render the appearances according to their true nature. In every idealist philosopher we have a demonstration that the idealist’s own principles render him incapable of distinguishing the world of perceptions from the world of representations. As a result, the idealist must perforce disavow the world of actuality; as a result, that world will always be found to play a miniscule role in the idealist’s system. In fact, the idealist treats the world of perception as if it were a product of spiritual activity, whereas this activity could not raise itself up as the antithetical counterpart to the world of perception unless it had based itself upon a pre-existent substratum of vital events.

However, our experiences have no connection with the being-concept, nor have they any true relationship to the kindred existence-concept. For our experiences transform themselves without interruption; to employ the phrase of Heraclitus, they transpire in an "eternal flux." Actuality can neither be conceptualized nor quantified; only that being in which spirit subdues actuality can be thus rigidly fixed in concept and quantity.

As soon as one is convinced that the substance of experienced life is outside the reach of spirit, one is compelled to endorse the conviction that conceptualizing spirit, which is solely found in man, is a force that, in-itself and for-itself, does not belong to the cosmos. One can indeed marvel at the deeds that spirit, employing our activity, has consummated in this world; but one can nevermore fall into the error of attributing creativity to spirit. Spirit broadens the scope of man’s will to power until we come to realize that spirit has at last unmasked itself as the will to annihilate nature. It is, thus, "utilitarian," and this is the reason why the "truths" of the party of spirit have seduced a greater number of disciples than can ever be found in the party of life. "Knowledge," in the biocentric sense, is seen as an end in itself. Such knowledge is only sought by the chosen few, who regard every glimpse into the nature of actuality as more rewarding than the fruits of utilitarianism and the will to power. (SW III pp. 720-22)

503. On Facial Expression. Of all the means whereby we achieve our knowledge of the inner life of man, by far the most certain is the interpretation of expressive movements. Everyone appreciates this fact intuitively. In examining the bearing and demeanor of our friends and acquaintances, we receive hints as to their cares, fears, hopes, their serenity or their depression; but we can also intuit information as to whether a person is sympathetic or unsympathetic even from an examination of someone whom we have never met before. We possess no exact criterion whereby we can account for our interpretation; but there is nothing surprising in this fact. From the dawn of human history man has been far more interested in determining whether someone with whom he came into contact was a "friend" or a "foe," than he was in determining whether the person in question had blond hair or brown, large or small eyes, and whether or not his mouth-line was perfectly horizontal. It has only been in quite recent times, as a result of the increasing prestige of psychological research, that we have come to understand the laws governing the connection between bodily and psychical process. Nevertheless, we have not as yet produced incontestable explanations for all such connections. Such phenomena as laughing and weeping, breaking out in a sweat and the trembling of the musculature during moments of terror, the erection of the hair resulting from fright, the shifting glare of the eyes, blushing and becoming pale, have been satisfactorily accounted for; whilst we have approached an exact comprehension of those laws that interpret such expressive movements as transpire under the governance of volition.

Darwin and Piderit have provided the greatest services to the science of expression. Darwin’s achievement was in having demonstrated the fundamental identity of expression in all humankind as well as in the higher animals; Piderit was far more successful than Darwin in providing a theoretical foundation that could account for the empirical findings. It is as a result of such methodological advances that we are able to achieve a fuller comprehension of expressions of joy, sorrow, resentment, etc.; we also understand the necessary connection between outer expression and inner condition, without a knowledge of which we would never have been able to arrive at a correct response to the question as to just what we are perceiving in someone who is sorrowful, excited, or merry. This question can be answered through the schematic delineations of the front-view and side-view of the face achieved by comparative physiognomy, which has established the laws that govern the fluctuations of the lines of the mouth, the cheek, the eye, the forehead, and the wrinkling of the nose. These very laws have placed in the hands of contemporary psychology the formula that can comprehend all of these expressive movements; this leads us by the shortest path to the precise evaluation of the sources of knowledge that are omnipresent in human language.

Thus, we are now equipped to interpret internal states through the scrutiny of external processes. We sometimes speak of "stinging sarcasm," without realizing that we have thereby established a connection between the sarcasm and the activity of stinging; we say of someone that he is "depressed" and intend by this expression to indicate the presence of a psychical state, without taking into account the "pressing-down," as it were, of bodily activity in the depressed subject. We say of someone that he has an "inclination" towards another person, without realizing that we have employed an expression that indicates a bodily attitude in order to indicate our awareness of a psychical state. These expressions, along with countless others of a similar sort, describe the inner processes by means of terms that are obviously appropriate to outer expressions. In fact, we would never have referred to the sarcasm as "stinging," to grief as "depression," or to sympathy as "inclination," whenever we encounter these things in our world, unless such expressions truly communicated the meaning of emotional states. The realization of the function of such verbal formulations places in our hands an interpretive key that provides us with access to a genuine understanding of expressions of the inner life. To the extent that we characterize psychical conditions through an interpretation of movements, we can also say: to every inner condition belongs, as its expression, those bodily movements by means of whose mediation we interpret them. Although descriptions of such processes sometimes exceed the inherent limitations of this discipline, nevertheless they will always be found to have pointed in the right direction. We repudiate the notion that joy or high spirits can accelerate the course of expressive movements, just as we are not permitted to say of a flighty person that he now possesses the power of flight. On the other hand, we are justified in concluding that a person in a state of joy will perform movements that are more effortless, more flowing, more energetic, and even more rhythmical, than when he is in a state of emotional distress or consumed by sorrow; in addition, his movements will actually be accelerated should he be released from certain physical constraints.

According to our simple formula, we have now established a theoretical basis for our conclusion that to every outer expression there corresponds an inner experience. Inner bitterness (resentment) results in a configuration of mouth and lips that is an exact image of the configuration that accompanies the placing of a bitter-tasting substance upon the tongue. When someone is in a condition of worry, we readily say that the person stands "with bowed head." When we find that we are "tense," whether from expectation, from worry, or from the maintenance of an excessive attentiveness, we realize that numerous sorts of tensing processes occur, quite involuntarily, viz., the knitting of the brows, the compressing of the lips, the clenching of the teeth, etc. We are all familiar with the phrase "stifling a sorrow"; we witness its expression in the shrinking posture and the tightened fist; whereas an easing of muscular strain and a relaxation of bodily bearing supervenes the moment we "let ourselves go."

Lavater already understood the principle whereby we are enabled to evaluate the phenomenon of mimicry from the standpoint of a systematic physiognomic science. Whoever possesses the quality of an energetic volition, will chronically manifest a condition of strain. Whoever is fearful by nature, will again and yet again be discovered in a state of anxiety. Whoever is habitually sensitive will ordinarily exist in a state of sorrow. Thus, the whole bearing of the body communicates its affective expression in characteristic movements, and this is especially so the more often the activity within scrawls its idiosyncratic signature upon the facial expression without. The facial expression will always betray the inner quality to the critical student. We have ourselves, after scrutinizing an unfamiliar series of photographs, been able to interpret, with great accuracy, the true nature of each sitter, both from the perspective of mimicry and from an analysis of the pathognomic expressions of a particular subject’s inner dispositions [Anlagen]. (SW 6 pp. 677-79)

504. Self-Knowledge. If Goethe, who was certainly one of the shrewdest "self-knowers" who ever lived, nevertheless regarded the ability to understand oneself with the greatest conceivable suspicion, it seems to us that we must have quite a bit to learn from the revelations of those high-powered intellectuals who are delighted to share the mob’s absolute faith in the immediacy and validity of the data of self-consciousness; we would merely ask of these good people that they hand over their proofs for such overweening folly. (PEN p. 28)

505. World and Ego. Consciousness of external facts preceded the development of the consciousness of the ego. The Greeks, for instance, to whom is due to sole credit for their invention of philosophy, possessed a comprehensive cosmological system long before they turned their attention to the soul and the thinking spirit. Something very similar can be said about little children, whose first perceptions are almost invariably the result of impressions received from the external world. (PEN p. 16)

506. Response to Newspaper Query: "Is This the End, or a New Beginning?" [Written by Klages in December, 1923]. Abandon All Hope! I have been convinced, for at least the past quarter century, that mankind is on the verge of total annihilation, and that so-called "World History" merely describes the progress of a terminal disease. History may be naught but a short story in the life of the stars, but it is a murderous tale to earthly life. I believe that we are witnessing the last scene before the descent of the iron curtain [des eisernen Vorhangs].

I am not predicting a natural death such as might be attributed to the ravages of old age, but rather a sudden death in the peak years of earthly existence at the hands of a murderous parasite, a vampire that sucks forth its blood-meal from the very heart of life! Whoever is capable of comprehending the implications of this judgment, will henceforth dispense with the wisdom of our sages, just as the skilled physician needs no one to explain to him just why the dying cancer victim is enduring such agonies.

All that we have said is demonstrably true. However, people persistently ask whether it is possible to live in the absence of hope.

Those who believe that we cannot live without hope, are merely voicing the tendentious self-deceptions of an age which must conceal, even from itself, that it is precisely man himself who is the parasitic plunderer who, accompanied by the phantom known as the "future," is performing the murderous deeds to which we have alluded!… 

Now what is the meaning of this strange allegiance to the never arriving, but always the merely possible, future? At best, it is nothing more than a lamentation today and a horror tomorrow!

Genuine satisfaction can only transpire in the fulfilled moment. When it is hollow and void, the moment cannot make mere wishes richer in substance, and hope, the gift of Pandora, serves only the dark purposes of those who wish to prolong our misery indefinitely. The propagandists’ faith in the future is, in fact, a more feeble delusion than the religious faith of those who are accustomed to place their trust in a "life beyond death"; the faith of such propagandists necessarily ensnares its victims in a web of destruction! However, life—and this is the last thing that we have to say in response to the journalist’s question—renews itself eternally, as it draws the nurturing waters forth from the well of the past! (LK GL pp. 1289-90)

507. Against the Puffing of Literary Frauds and Sharks. Out of, say, 500 readers of the periodicals that publish the works of creative and philosophical writers, we would hazard a guess that perhaps one of them still retains the capacity to exercise an independent critical judgment. Thus, in untold thousands of magazine articles, pamphlets, and books, we are deafened by the brass bands that concertedly trumpet forth the praises of people like Freud and Thomas Mann. What is the result? The grotesque books of Thomas Mann are now being published in editions numbering in the millions of copies! (LK GL p. 1380)

508. Against the Current: From a Letter. Let me say that I have read with profound appreciation the pertinent essay "We Stand by Klages" [Wir stehen zu Ludwig Klages], which appeared in volume 2 of the 6th annual edition of "Will and Power" [Wille und Macht]. What could be more gratifying to a thinker who, without the blessings of material prosperity, has nevertheless always insisted on swimming against the current, than the realization that the young people of today have somehow managed to open up their hearts to the influence of my (admittedly difficult) philosophy?

Your own comments pleased me also, for they indicate your shrewd perception of the fact that behind the thinker in me there stands a man of deep conviction, one who—with the sole exception of Nietzsche—has fought longer and more ruthlessly than any modern thinker, not only against the false "ideals" of the previous century, but also against the cumulative errors of our own age. You see clearly that I have always insisted on speaking the truth, in spite of the fact that I have, for the most part, received nothing but abuse for doing so.

Just as one can evaluate a man’s character by looking at his friends, one can also derive the same information by discovering just who that man’s enemies are. Without a doubt, my enemies have always been, and will always be, the self-same powers who battle against my philosophy even today, for there is no greater enemy of my thoughts and deeds on earth than the government of the "New Germany"! (LK GL p. 1312)

509. Against the Errors of the Vitalists. It is quite an easy task to convince a student who is familiar with the history of "vitalism," that the pet phrases that are employed by the various vitalists to indicate the specific organizing force at work in nature (formative "monads," vis essentialis, nisus formativus, vis vitalis, "entelechy," "immaterial power," etc.) all have one and the same meaning: spirit. There is, in fact, no substantial difference between the implications of Kant’s theory that postulates the existence of unbreakable ethical imperatives and the "immaterial power" of our modern "philosophers of life," for both schools of thought endorse one and the same view in affirming, as philosophically valid, the governance of unbreakable laws of causality. One is startled to find that the Kantian biologists of today have no space in their expositions to refer to their master’s observation that "a modality of living matter is quite inconceivable"; Kant believed that lifelessness is the very essence of matter…

The more perceptive of our readers will forgive us if we now, for the benefit of readers who are less familiar with our leading ideas, reiterate our central conviction so that it is clear to all: spirit is a "causative force." That expresses the reality pithily, but we must also recognize that this power works immediately only in man…Through the medium of human activity, spirit controls all those areas of the world that have been subjugated to the will of man…Spirit’s activity, however, is not formative or creative, but solely destructive, and this fact bears witness to the adversarial tension between spirit and the powers of the cosmos. (SW 2 pp. 1119-20)

510. On Truth and Error. There are superficial truths as well as profound errors…The erroneous doctrines of the Eleatics have been far more fruitful for the development of Western philosophy than the unquestioned achievements of all the mathematicians since Pythagoras put together! (PEN p. 66)

511. Particular and General. One often hears it said of philosophical commentators that they weave their webs out of flimsy generalities, which they then pass off as "world views." This is certainly true of the second-rate writers; on the other hand, truly gifted thinkers always occupy themselves with a narrow range of special questions. We often find, in fact, that a true philosopher will focus upon one problem that he places ahead of all others. One might even say of such a thinker that the problem has found him, for he will often dwell together with his special guest throughout the whole of his sad, yet joyous, intellectual life.

When we scrutinize the activities of authentic discoverers of philosophical and scientific truths, we find that they are all specialists…All such pioneers proceed from the particular to the general; never will their apprehension take the opposite direction! (PEN p. 66) 

512. The War within the Organism. Once we have established the distinction between the ego and the vital substance (i.e., the soul of the organism), we have also demonstrated the cognate distinction between the ego and the body of the organism. Suppose a forty year-old person were to say: "I lived in South America when I was twenty years of age." He is surely not telling us that he is referring to his present body, in which not an atom of his earlier physical constitution can be found; nor can he be referring to the personal ego for which that body provided shelter during its South American sojourn; and just as little can he be justified in thinking of his soul, which is certainly no longer the soul of the young man, for no one can have the slightest doubt that the growth, maturation, and withering of the soul that accompanies the growth and withering of the body has left that soul unchanged as it passes through time…In spite of all that, what the person in question is actually groping for when he speaks of his time in South America is, in fact, the ego that is identical with his ego of today, which he—assuming that he is mentally sound—could never be in danger of mistaking for anyone or anything else in the world. Thus, in spite of his restlessly transforming vitality, he has involuntarily established a real point of connection with that which remains one and the same through every change and upon which time can exert no influence. This is the "primal image of existence" [das Urbild des Daseins]; it is this primal image that enables him to shatter the chains of the here and now, and thereby to revert to the abstract being, which Parmenides discovered, and to which mystics later attached the name of the god Apollo.

Thus, there are within a person’s nature two antithetical forces coupled together, one of which is the ever-changing vital substance, while the other is the never-changing ego (or, to utilize the language of metaphysics, a soul that is manifested in space and time, and a spirit that is outside the spatio-temporal realm). Therefore, there exists within man both a ceaseless transitory flux of actuality and an ego, or self, which wages war against that actuality. In other words, the feeling of existence is inseparably bound up with the judgment of existence. Nietzsche’s comprehension of these matters led him to the discovery of his doctrine of the "Will to Power," which he believed was the force that caused every organism to strive ceaselessly to increase its power. (PEN pp. 38-9)

513. "Eternal" Life. Less enduring than the flash of lightning in the darkness, and more futile than the flight of the cinder in the chimney is the life of man. One millionth of a second in this universe suffices to blot us out, and even if we have managed to consummate a supreme artistic achievement, no effort of our will can prevent our vanishing without a trace. Even the fame of so magnificent an artist as Homer endures for but a few trifling millennia. But what is a millennium when measured against the incalculable ages of mankind’s evolutionary development? And what is man’s evolutionary history when measured against the time that is required to articulate a solar system? Then again, what is the duration of a solar system when measured against a comprehensive biography of a constellation, the very idea of whose extant billions almost stuns the mind of man? We convince ourselves that our soul can somehow liberate itself from the dead weight of matter, because it is the innermost craving of every human being to extend this earthly life beyond the boundaries of this visible world and into another realm. The believer sees himself reborn in spirit, so that he may experience the delights of "eternal" life in heaven. 

Is it possible to conceive of a more enviable idiocy? (RR 497-8)

514. Creation and Politics. Politicians indefatigably bellow the canard that they are making sacrifices every minute of the day; this is, of course, the most idiotic type of verbal pomposity. We can identify here the frightful egomania of our politicians and their deficient spirit of sacrifice. Behind all of the turgid tirades of our politicians there lurks an utter lack of principle.

Why should one use the word "cultured" when speaking of those who, in lieu of courage or soul, have nothing but a volume of two of memoirs brewing in their bellies? (RR p. 307)

515. On Life and Spirit. Spirit and object are the halves of being; life and image the poles of actuality—

Spirit "is"; life elapses—

Spirit judges; life experiences—

Judgment is an act; experience is a pathos—

Spirit comprehends what exists; life experiences what comes to be—

(Pure) being is outside space and time, and so too is the spirit; what comes to be is within space and time, and so too is life—

Being is fundamentally thinkable, but it can never be immediately experienced; what comes to be can be fundamentally experienced, but it can never be immediately comprehended—

The act of judgment requires experiencing life, upon which it bases itself; life does not need the spirit in order to experience—

Spirit, as that which inheres in life, signifies a force that is directed against life; life, insofar as it becomes the bearer of spirit, resists it with an instinct of defense—

The essence of the historical process of humanity (also called "progress") is the victoriously advancing struggle of the spirit against life, with the logically predictable end in the annihilation of the latter. (SW 1 p. 68)
  516. A Letter on Ethics. What does our moralist really want? Obviously, he wants to "improve" man ethically, and to keep on improving him, until, finally, perfection graces the earth. Of course, there can be no doubt as to the moralist’s good intentions and no one would wish to cast aspersions on the "purity" of his heart. But it is also obvious from the outset that he has not the slightest inclination to open up for critical discussion such issues as how he intends to accomplish his purpose and how he has achieved such certainty as to the correctness of that purpose. Nor does he seem at all eager to disclose just who or what has charged him with his mission to change everything that lives and breathes. We might also wish to enquire of him whether or not his program of "improvement" has the slightest prospect of success!

Ethical codes are always presented to us by their apologists as if they were solid structures standing firmly upon the bedrock of facts. Nevertheless, the moralist, who regards man and the world as interchangeable terms, is not permitted to draw any conclusions from an examination of the behavior of "man" as he conducts himself in the visions of poets and dreamers. The moralist must instead focus his attention solely upon the mankind whose exploits constitute the chronicle known as "world history." On this matter, we can quite easily demonstrate something that everyone should surely comprehend even without our assistance: that the mankind of blood, murder, betrayal, violence, and greed, is without even a superficial resemblance to the product of wishful thinking that inhabits the brain of the moralist. It is the intention of the moralist that everyone around him should "improve" himself. He transports his "idea of the good" into the future, which he always finds to be a more congenial place than the sorry present: previously, mankind was malicious and vile, and even now, admittedly, he possesses these vicious traits in abundance. But hearken! Man will now improve himself more and more until, perhaps, some fine day in the distant future, he will draw nigh to the realization of the "idea of the good," albeit there is only a slim chance that he will, in point of fact, attain to the highest pitch of perfection. The moralist is alone in his conviction that the fulfillment of his expectations really lies within the realm of possibility. But how will he go about changing the crimes and the misdeeds that have already occurred? How could history’s countless millions of villains—known and unknown—the backbiters, the poisoners of hearts, the jealous, the dishonorable, the slanderers, the schemers, and the parasites (both physical and spiritual), be improved so long after we have buried their corpses? Or does our moralist restrict membership in his "mankind" to those now living? Or is he talking about those particularly fortunate men who have been cunning enough to postpone the hour of their birth to a later century when, at long last, these illustrious ethical ideals shall have been brought to fruition? Will a single atrocity that transpired in an earlier time be negated, or minimized, merely because some future generation—I know not which—will finally rejoice in having attained to complete moral perfection? How little truth there is in the moralist’s schemes will, perhaps, be made somewhat clearer if we ponder, for a moment, the fortunes of those doomed souls who were forced to suffer under the vile French Revolutionary government, with its treason, deceit, lawlessness, theft, betrayal, and every conceivable form of torture!

Let us consider the bitter anger of nobles who, with gnashing of teeth, humiliated themselves by groveling before their vicious revolutionary captors, lest a proud demeanor offend their jailers and lead to their heads being hacked off; the pain and anguish of the myriad victims who fell to the bloodsucking guillotine; and the helpless endurance of shame and betrayal by the guiltless. Are they, somehow, to have their sufferings cancelled or ameliorated retroactively, as it were, because, after the lapse of some unspecified number of millennia, a spotless generation shall have inherited the earth? Just as it is certain that an event that has transpired can never be transformed into a "non-event," it is equally certain that no rational person can conceive of "improving" those who have already been buried in an "unimproved" state! I might draw your attention here to the affinity that exists between these ridiculous schemes for moral improvement and two of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity. The first is the curious notion that mere "faith" in the mission of the Christian redeemer "makes blessed." However one interprets this doctrine, such blessedness can only benefit a limited segment of mankind, for it pertains only to those individuals who were born after a certain point in history. As a matter of fact, there were not a few simpletons during the late Middle Ages who were absolutely certain that Plato and Aristotle, even if they had managed to avoid hell-fire, were at least suffering the torments of purgatory! The second Christian doctrine holds that the first priority on "Doomsday" will be answering the divine accountant’s questions regarding profit and loss; there is no need for us to make any further comment on that piece of information!

In aiming at this pretended improvement of mankind, nothing—and whoever denies this is something of a deceiver—nothing takes precedence before natural good faith, i.e., a faith that is guileless, unconscious, and, hence, instinctual. Deceit plants itself within the heart; the head, as always, will manage to concoct reasons with which to reinforce a predetermined faith.

The mere practitioner of ethics would not, of course, force the issue; if mankind has hitherto shown no interest in being saved, the practical moralist would merely would comment that his true concern is with the living and the yet unborn. On bended knee, he will pronounce his fervent wish that such and such evil deeds shall never again come to pass. The theoretician of ethics, however—the one who is, so to speak, "in the know"—need make no concessions. Thus, because he has nothing to say about the "eternal law" and the "absolute good" (although he himself certainly aspires to their realization), he will explain that the whole project of "improvement" is nothing more than a hygienic measure, as if one were to drain a swamp that is swarming with infectious mosquitoes or send the shoe that is pinching one’s foot to the shoemaker for repairs. In order to achieve his goals, he employs no "moral claim," no "categorical imperative"; instead, he mouths those more or less emphatic phrases with which one provides oneself in order to emphasize one’s devotion to duty. Let us now revert to the true moralist.

We have seen that the very idea of "improving" mankind is a pious self-deception, because, regardless of how much improvement occurs in mankind, in the long run, every human being must, alas, die and decompose. Now we ask ourselves if it is only the improvement of future generations that is to enter into the moralist’s reckoning. But aren’t we ourselves—the living and the present—the bodily, psychical, and spiritual descendants of the same mankind that oozed bloody murder and vileness long before we came upon the scene? Does not their blood course through our veins and arteries? We think of ourselves as being racially pure members of an advanced, "guileless" stock; but is it not the case that the future will infallibly bring about an ever-increasing process of racial bastardization? And does not such racial pollution infect only the innocent, and never those—we’ve no need to speak the name of the tribe aloud—who are the unrecognized criminals of the heart? Do we not find, throughout history, that the party of the degenerate always triumphs over the party of the noble? Is it really necessary that we trot out every scrap of irrefutable evidence that proves our point? Constantine the so-called "Great," Karl the so-called "Great" [Charlemagne], Gregory, Torquemada, Cortez, Cromwell, Robespierre, and so many others: is it not true that the only essential distinctions to be drawn between such characters concern the measure of horror and destructiveness with which each one conducts his orgies of mass-murder? Yet it is these same so-called "great men"—whose actions have set mankind upon the road that he now travels, and whose careers have determined the destiny of succeeding generations—whom we insist upon calling the "great"! It is less the noble souls than the criminal spirits, i. e., those who have created, and still create today, the history of the world, who comprise our ancestral heritage. With a very great semblance of truth, one might say that we are engaged in the incessant debasement of mankind.

Meanwhile, the ethical teacher retorts, if at any time the ethical idea were to achieve complete success, or only partial success, or even no success whatsoever, that would have no bearing on the issue, for the "Ideal" would endure and would advance its inviolate demands, and only the demands of this "Ideal" deserve man’s attention. The success or failure of his actions is not decisive for the moralist, and should his efforts run aground a hundred times in a row, the "good" would still remain, no less than before, the guiding principle of his striving. However, we might wish to examine these ideals of his a bit more closely at this juncture.

In earlier publications I adduced many reasons that lead us to the conclusion that we must examine the relationship between two ultimate and irreducible principles in order to account for the history of man; and I have further indicated that these two powers stand in opposition to each other, and that the degree to which one of these powers gains ascendancy entails the reciprocal weakening of the other. Regardless of the verbal form in which this insight makes its appearance, the truth behind the insight can and must be demonstrated. On the other hand, there is certainly no conclusive explanation as to why each individual must affiliate himself with one party or the other; perhaps it is merely a personal disposition which determines which of the parties to the dispute one holds to be a constructive force and which is seen as a destructive one. Let us elaborate: I call the one +x, so I must call the other –y; on the other hand, when I speak of –x, there must also be a correlative +y. The customary names for that which appears to me to be the constructive power and, thus, the +x, are nature, sensuality, and heart. More precise and correct terms would be life, cosmos, and soul. My –y, consequently, would be will, deed, Logos, mind, "idea," "God," "supreme being," the pure subject, the absolute ego, and spirit. At present, one side of the ledger is recognized by our ethical teachers, an admission that is attended by a qualification, for they feel that the concession of which we speak in no way entails agreement with any imputation of "dualism" to the constitution of man. They deny as well that the "idea of the good" stems from nature. Above all, however, they deny with all of the force that is in them our view that between the two opposed forces, spirit and soul, there exists a relationship of opposition or hostility. On the contrary, they assure us that nature is an "exposition" or "revelation" of the "idea of the good." Before we prove conclusively that they have already landed themselves in insuperable logical contradictions, we might examine the provenance of their opinions with some profit.

The "idea of the good" is characterized from the outset by the making of demands or, in other words, by the giving of commands. More than that, it is, so to speak, the "command in itself," the absolute command, the old categorical imperative! Thus, whoever maintains this point of view reveals that it is precisely in introducing this "categorical imperative" into the spatio-temporal world that he concedes that the world itself was brought into being by a command. But that claim differs not in the least from the Mosaic creation-myth; it is identical to the procedure employed by Jahweh, the God of the Jews. And let us avail ourselves of this opportunity to put our finger on the reason why this Mosaic idea, which has no parallel among other cultures, is without a doubt the most preposterous sort of impudence: such arrogant impostures could never have arisen among healthy natures. They have survived among us only because the inhabitants of Christendom have had these lunatic fables drummed into their heads since childhood; as a result, they can never escape from idiocies in comparison with which all of our extant ghost stories and fairy tales have the appearance of truth. One laughs at those who believe in ghosts, one mocks at the fetishes and idols of "primitive" tribes, one considers it to be an astounding phantom of the brain when the Orphic theologians of ancient Greece sought the origin of the world in the primeval ovum; one doesn’t even notice that no cosmogony ever devised by the mind of man possesses a fraction of the absurdity inherent in the Mosaic world-creation on demand! For no command can ever have the power to create one single object, not even the rain-drop that beats upon my window-pane.

When the sergeant shouts the order "Halt!" or "March!", is the energy that sets the soldier in motion released as soon as the command is issued, or does it require the living force embodied in the soldier who hears it? What holds true in this case holds true in every other. Surely the command cannot produce results by itself, for it always requires the innate responsive force of the person who has heard it. In other words, the command requires the whole spatio-temporal world, particularly its vital energy and, ultimately, a conscious mind within that world, to recognize the existence of the command: without such responsive recognition, it is nothing.

The Mosaic creation-myth, on the other hand, maintains that a mere command brought forth the entire universe out of nothingness. And the identical procedure holds for the ethical teacher when he explains the spatio-temporal actuality as a phenomenal reproduction of his "idea of the good," of the categorical imperative, of the absolute demand. Whereas, however, he somehow suppresses as an unholy fiction the opposition between the two powers of spirit and soul, a view that he can never endorse, he is forced back upon his own theory. Therefore, as we now wish to demonstrate, that which he preaches is, in fact, nothing but mortal hostility to life! We now understand that he is compelled to weave his phantoms in order to conceal this hostility from himself, for very few men of the modern age have the courage to admit that the battle between the two hostile powers even exists. Here, we must go all the way back to the so-called "Dark Ages," even back to the apologists and "Fathers of the Church," to encounter those—such as agitator Augustine—whose basic viewpoint was that God’s crucial commandment requires that we flee the "world of the senses." With those ancient ethical teachers one can come to an understanding of sorts. Each party can admit to the other that they represent two irreconcilably hostile powers, and thus they are in basic agreement on at least one crucial point. The opposition is crystal clear: they believe in the unyielding strife between heaven and hell. Each party, of course, sees heaven in what the other regards to be hell. On the other hand, no reconciliation is possible with the ethical teacher of today, who wages war against life, and who has no inclination to parlay with the enemy. Like the Church Father, he stands on the side of the enemies of life, but, unlike them, he is ignorant, he hides behind a mask, he is a liar: and he is devoid of self-understanding. But let us now proceed to the conclusive proof of his self-contradiction!

What is the very essence of a command or an order? One must answer: a precept. But what exactly is a precept? To this we respond: always and everywhere it is a prohibition! The commands say, of course, "you must." In general, there is clearly no incentive in ordering someone to do that which he is quite prepared to do on his own. As we all know, however, he does not do whatever it is that we would command him to do "on his own," and so he must be prompted by a command. Without a doubt, his actions would be quite different in the absence of the command; a different command would likewise bring about a different outcome. Thus we must ask: wherein lies the essential nature of the moral command? And we must respond: in the suppression of a vital process or condition. I have scarcely opened the pages of the Roman Catholic catechism when I discover that, out of the "Ten Commandments," seven employ the formula "Thou shalt not," whilst the remaining three take the "Thou shalt" form. But it require no great critical astuteness to perceive that even these three have merely cloaked their negative substance in a positive verbal disguise. The essence of every commandment—and every categorical imperative—is to forbid something; that which is forbidden is, in every case, a natural or vital process. Therefore: the categorical imperative is the categorical annihilation of vitality.

We advance to the ultimate proof of our contention. Every moral "you must" is directed against that which the moralist considers to be a "sin," thus the moralist always brandishes before the mind of man the concept of "sinfulness," or "wickedness." Without this concept of "sin," nothing would make the slightest sense to the moralist! The concept of sin covers, in fact, every "categorical imperative," every ethical demand, and every conceivable virtue (one can already see this happening in St Paul). In the case of the animals, it is obvious that, since one cannot attribute the capacity for sin to them, they can commit no crime and will never be able to comprehend the claims of ethics. Life, therefore, knows nothing of sin; therefore, life is without sin and, hence, without guilt. We now ask, what is the peculiar significance of the Mosaic invention of sin? We hold the solution to that puzzle as soon as we realize that, according to the laws of the church, there is, in word and deed, only one "mortal sin," i. e., the sin against the "Holy Spirit." The predicate "Holy," teaches us that the highest value, the summum bonum, the "supreme being," the ens realissimum of the ethical conscience is the spirit. Thus, there is only one genuine sin, the sin against the spirit! Now, as we have said, the spirit stands in opposition to life; therefore, what is considered to be sinful is life itself! From this quandary, no escape is possible. In order to understand an ethical "you must," I must first erect the concept of "sin," and in order to erect that concept, I must make spirit the measure of life, in such a manner, that life itself is directly connected with sin. And now we have arrived at the discovery of that truth which the teacher of ethics is hiding with his faith in the world-creating power of the commandment: the discovery that he himself stands in the service of a power that aims at the destruction of life; the ethical teacher is trapped, as it were, behind his spiritual barbed-wire, which mutilates life and sucks its blood; his mission is to poison his flock with the insane conviction of "sinfulness," and in order to achieve this end he must stuff the heads of his sheep with threatening fairy tales in order to contaminate and confuse their instincts. The teacher of ethics is nothing but the bloodless successor of inventive priests, and he will remain the advocate of negation forever and beyond. The priestly initiators may have been no more than a pack of ingenious con-men, but their followers are actually con-men who have managed to con themselves, con-men in all innocence, con-men with a good, even with the best—conscience.

A word has just escaped me that the ethical teacher always relies upon to bolster his case against me. He denies the "heteronomy" of the moral will of course, but he retains, on the other hand, the "autonomy" of his categorical "you must." He draws our attention back to the renowned "conscience," for he wishes somehow to make us believe that this conscience of his is part of man’s constitutional endowment, and that it is an inalienable datum of man’s inner life. Here, he is apparently saying: you would even disavow the "voice of conscience"; more, you would make yourself the advocate of every type of irresponsibility; you may even want to encourage every sort of wickedness and criminality!

On the contrary, we must ask him: if conscience is, in fact, a reality of life, why then is it not found anywhere else in the whole animal kingdom?! If we wish to ignore the animals, is not primitive man in deep accord with the confirmed criminal in that neither has the slightest comprehension of the experience of conscience? How are we to doubt this fact? Now, Shakespeare, who knew more about man than all of history’s moralists put together, has his Richard III gloatingly aver that he has willed himself into becoming a villain! Shakespeare understood that the truly great villain never regrets the calamities that he has brought about; he only feels regret when he has failed to achieve his foul purpose. And where indeed can we find the conscience in such luminaries as Julius Caesar, Nero, Tiberius, Cromwell, Napoleon, etc.? As Goethe has said: "The man of business never has a conscience; at least, no one has ever encountered it." Accordingly, we revert to the erroneous view that conscience is an original fact of experience, and now permit ourselves to report our findings: the commander requires an obedient listener, otherwise his command amounts to nothing; the categorical imperative thus requires the presence of persons who believe that such an imperative is sacred, or, more simply put, who believe that "Lord" Jahweh needs his slaves or it’s all over for his "Lordship." The ethical conscience certainly exists, for without it there could be no ethical teachers. But there also exists a power that is hostile to life, and this power loudly proclaims its presence in "conscience." So little substance, however, inheres in this conscience that is "common to all men," that we can dismiss those who are most deeply scarred by its stigma as "slave-men," which is precisely what Nietzsche calls them. How this "slave-man" arises will be, for those who have followed our exposition thus far, a simple question to answer: the "slave-man" has arisen, and he will arise, always and everywhere, as a result of racial bastardization and poisoning of the blood; and the slave-man has, as his necessary complement, the criminal. Thus, the student of life views the phenomenon of moralism as the spiritual expression of bad blood.

Since, however, it is a demonstrable error to consider the faith in duty as deriving from the sphere of life, we must at least point out that the instigators of moralism are lying when they attempt to persuade us that the amoral man, and the immoral one, represent the opposite of conscience, or even its absence. In fact, this false claim leads directly to the third allegation: that there is no conceivable value-system other than the ethical one, nor can there be. That, however, is irrelevant in view of man’s status as bearer of spirit, i. e., one for whom the logical norm is by no means the ethical norm. As long as I only search for truth, discover truth, prove truth, I am ethically indifferent. But there exists, in opposition to the spirit’s mode of evaluation, a value-system which regards man from the standpoint of life. Just as the philosopher of spirit considers everything that denies spirit to be a "sin," the philosopher of life regards that which denies life to be an offense. The concept of sin sprouts from the same soil that nourishes ethics, but the concept of the offense has very different roots indeed. On this point, language dispels all doubt. Just as the moralist is completely bound by his dread of the sin against the spirit, so are we bound by our opposition to the offense against life. No one speaks of a sin against a tree, but men have certainly spoken in the past—and even today many still speak—of an offense against a tree. The tree neither is a spirit, nor does it house the spirit, and thus no one can commit a sin against it; nevertheless, the tree certainly lives, and therefore one can commit an offense against it. And just as the "sinner" must endure the destructive will of spirit when he experiences his ordained "punishment" in the midst of men, so is the offender against life punished according to the world-principle of retribution when he is confronted by the "vengeance of the Erinyes." The principle that embodies the offense against life is the categorical imperative. Therefore: the ethical teacher is unconsciously a systematic offender against life.

And so, therefore, we place opposite the forced denial of life an affirmative attitude. Accompanying the rejection of the offense, must be a positive, caring attitude towards life. It is with some unease that I refer to this as education, because, as we have already seen, that word has already been pressed into the service of a moralistic sort of guidance for the soul. We will, however, employ the word education, provided the facts of the case are made clear.

No guide of the soul will ever be persuaded that he can change or improve anything at all. From the pine-cone comes the pine-tree, from the beech-nut comes the beech-tree, from the acorn comes the oak-tree, and the guardian of the seed is neither its procreator nor the sculptor of its form. A plant does, nonetheless, require light and moisture, and the fortunes of the plant will depend to a large extent upon my caring for its needs. Thus, vital soul-guidance lies not in the direction of the command and the promotion of the sterilizing faith in such threatening expressions as "you must." Vital soul-guidance serves to provide the soul with sustenance. Had the expression "care of the soul" not been tainted by a parsonic after-taste, there would be no better phrase to apply to the work of the esoteric soul-guide.

Where now do we find the mediators of the soul? We find them in wonder, love, and the example of heroes. The soul finds wonder in the landscape, in poetry, and in beauty. Thus, you look upon a landscape, a poem, or a thing of beauty, to see whether or not you can discover the beauty that flourishes therein. Love—in the broadest meaning of the word—entails reverence, admiration, and adoration: indeed, every type of heart-felt recognition that is warm and true, which can be evoked only by the beloved. The eternal icon that illustrates the soul’s guide is embodied in the mother with the beloved child. The soul receives every shining ray of maternal love. The soul’s examples are gods, poets, and heroes. The soul participates in the advent of the heroes when it delights in their shining shapes. And if you do not find that wonder, love, and example are flourishing within you, then it is your own inner life that is impoverished and no guide of the soul has the power to enrich you. For this is the secret of the soul: that it only grows richer by giving of itself. It is not the love that one receives that enriches the soul, but the love that is kindled within one through the receiving of that love. Thus, if you find that you are unable to arouse within your soul the secret wonders and the secret heroes, then the dazzling spectacle of the world would remain a mere theater production. Since your soul cannot respond, its guide will abandon you, and then you can sit yourself down and listen, unharmed, to—a lecture on ethics.

517. Imagination and the Images. Our so-called "imaginations" are the creations of our spirit…and they must on no account…be confused with images, which have a capacity for vital activity. The activity of imagining is, of course, always connected with particular life-processes, but even when, as often occurs, these relate to exactly the same state of affairs, the activity of one must be rigorously distinguished from the other…A doctor who, during a cholera epidemic, "imagines" this sinister disease in the greatest detail… does not for this reason catch the disease. But if anybody is forced to concern himself with it in his "imagination," from violent fear of contagion, he is, in fact in greater danger of infection than those who are indifferent and fearless…because in his state of fear the image of the disease…acts organically, inhibiting and paralyzing the protective instincts of the organism. (SW 4 p. 326)
  518. The Problem of Socrates. This cursory overview of our understanding of Socrates should be sufficient to prove that the alleged "problem" of Socrates was solved a long time ago. We confess that our standpoint is in marked opposition to prevailing beliefs; thus, our major emphasis will be placed on the pedantry and the sheer lack of creativity of Socrates. We will review the record thematically, and we will draw upon the opinions of clear heads of earlier times, so that with their assistance we will be able to present an unambiguous portrait of the character and the teaching of this most peculiar thinker.

There have been attempts to link the character of Socrates with a decisive turning point in the spiritual history of the Greeks; in large part, these attempts have misfired. Certainly, the unique importance of Socrates, that which has made him the most popular figure in the entire history of philosophy, lies, in any case, not so much in his doctrine as in his personality and his fate. He was not the founder of a religion, although he does invite comparison with certain earlier founders, e. g., Pythagoras, in that Socrates, instead of crafting a written doctrine, attempted instead to bring about a change in the lives of his auditors through a spoken teaching that was religiously conditioned and morally tendentious. In a profound sense, he is the Greek world’s unacknowledged forerunner of the Christian consciousness. Nietzsche goes so far as to attack Socrates as the instigator of the "revolt of the slaves in morality." With him there appears for the first time the unbounded self-mastery of an alien-racial and, so to speak, international rationalism. He even referred to himself as a "citizen of the world." We are instructed in the Socratic teaching in part through Xenophon; in part through Plato, who situated an idealized representation of Socrates in his dialogues; and, finally, through the mockery of Aristophanes. Xenophon, who was, after all, an historian, may provide us with the most faithful account of the deeds and drives of Socrates; Plato, who placed his own doctrine in the mouth of his master, reveals to us, more critically than Socrates himself would have been able to do, the yet unknown aim of the Socratic direction of the spirit. In order to comprehend the specific meaning of the character of Socrates, we must focus our hindsight more closely on the life of this thinker than is the case with most other philosophers.

Socrates was born in Athens in 469 B.C.E.; he was the son of the sculptor Sophroniskos and the mid-wife Phainarete. He devoted his early years to sculpture, but he soon relinquished all vocational activity in order to develop a startling and unprecedented type of teaching career. He married a woman named Xanthippe who bore his children but who, as the result of his indifference to her, has unjustly received from the hands of posterity her reputation as the archetypal "shrew." In a word, Socrates was a professional guest, who spent his time engaged in endless discussions, in part with laborers, in part, and above all, with attractive and cultured young men. The workshop, the gymnasium, and the drinking-bout were the favorite haunts of this amusing loafer. 

With regard to the spiritual history of the Greeks in its general outlines, he would boast that he had never even made an attempt to study the doctrines of his philosophical predecessors, and, all things considered, Socrates presents the perfect picture of the half-educated, self-taught amateur, who, armed with the arrows of his naturally sharp critical sense and the acid of his plebeian mother-wit, upsets dull-witted men in general and the more highly-educated in particular. 

There are attempts even today to portray Socrates as a uniquely "harmonious" character. If we are not in error, Hegel was alone in disputing this error until Nietzsche, in his "Twilight of the Idols," applied his unmasking technique to Socrates, thus providing, in its essentials, such a definitive demolition that no one reading it could have worn a more ironic smile on his face than—Socrates himself! To what extent his life-hostile doctrine deceived Socrates himself, it would be difficult to determine; but that he, thanks to his penetrating and all-dissolving, inner-directed rationalism, possessed an extraordinary understanding of himself, is almost beyond doubt, provided that there is at least some measure of truth in the stories that have been told about him. Thus, he is said to have responded to the remarks of a stranger who concluded, from an examination of the philosopher’s face, that Socrates concealed every lust and every craving within his soul: "You know me well! But I have overcome them all." This proves that in no way did he consider himself to be a "harmonious" character, but rather a character who—to speak with Nietzsche—has become master over the anarchy of his drives, and who maintains his mastery by means of the clear light of rationality. We are also struck in no small way by what tradition tells us about his physical appearance. The rachitic, bulging eyes; the recessed, snub nose; the bald head and the pot belly must have made him appear hideous even to himself, for already during his lifetime, people had begun to compare him to Silenus. "Socrates," says Nietzsche, "belonged to the dregs of the populace, Socrates was rabble. One understands, one sees for oneself even now how ugly he was. But ugliness constitutes an objection. Among the Greeks, it amounted to a refutation. Was Socrates really a Greek?" In the Platonic dialogues much still shines through to indicate that aristocratic contemporaries of ancient racial stock saw Socrates in just this way. Aristophanes, in whose savage ridicule—perhaps!—the love of the ancient religiosity wages war with the self-seeking "enlightenment" of an already secular atmosphere, has, with sure instinct, in his comedy "The Clouds," selected Socrates as the very embodiment of the vendor of sophistries; contemptuously, he says that, with dialectical fallacies as a foundation, the sophist’s only purpose is to undermine tradition.

How did it come about that this character was surrounded by a halo in the eyes of the most talented young men of Athens? How could the Delphic oracle have concluded that Socrates was the wisest of men? There were superficial grounds that may account for this judgment. Socrates manifested in the highest degree the quality that the Greeks called Sophrosyne, which is equivalent to our notion of "self-possession." In modern terms, he was a thoroughly unemotional character, cautious and eminently cold-blooded. In certain respects, he anticipated the Cynics, who, like Socrates, were able to bear poverty, fatigue, and danger with an unruffled equanimity. He actually participated in many of the military campaigns conducted by Athens (Potidaea, Amphipolis, Delion), and, without the slightest trace of the "rush" of combat, he still maintained his iron courage on the day of battle. After a nocturnal drinking-bout, when the sprightliest among his young companions were overcome with wine, he would remain sober to the last, and, without a minute’s sleep he would head off to the Forum. This man was in every moment of his life the master of himself to such an extent that he embodied the very principle of his fencing mode of dialectic.

But he was also a great eroticist, and the novel style of his approach to young men was to endure throughout the rest of Greek history: the tendency to establish an erotic bond between an older man and a youth in the pursuit of education. From the time of Socrates, instead of the older lover, we have now the "master" and critic; and instead of the younger beloved, we have now the "student" and learner. This type of relationship had, in fact, had long been the custom in Sparta; but, from the outset, the Socratic education no longer meant a teaching designed to develop courage, but one designed to develop that which Socrates called wisdom. Finally, Socrates was attended by a "presence," an apparition that we moderns might relegate to the precincts of "occultism." Periodically, an absent-minded, trance-like state would come over him, and it was said that he could become insensible for as long as one hour. At such times he would become oblivious to everything that was transpiring around him, and his stance became absolutely rigid. Then he would hear an inner voice that warned him to do this or that; sometimes he is given a serious task to perform, and at other times he is commanded to do something completely unimportant. He himself claimed that, without exception, the warnings were correct. In addition, the voice at times spoke, not to Socrates, but to one of his friends; and we have many instances in which the philosopher, thanks to this voice, avoided actions that, if he had performed them, would have led to disaster. Thus, he became accustomed to the promptings of a bright, visionary somnambulism, which, it was understood, strengthened the man who was under its sway.

Still, the astonishing vigor of its operation resides not so much within the "voice" as it does within the other party involved.

The soul of Greece was fragmented and exhausted when it gave birth to this nay-sayer who, like every prophet of dissolution, made his appearance in the guise of a "healer of souls." As we have said, Socrates was the complete master of himself; but he was more than that: he proved, or at least attempted to prove, that the assistance, not to say salvation, of which everyone stood in need, resided in the complete mastery of one’s self. He will claim that such mastery is to be found in subordinating our uprooted drives to a detached rationality. He derided strong drives and an affirmative attitude towards life, and an impoverished and unsettled generation would have been startled at the forcefulness with which he announced his views.

Socrates knew exactly what he was doing when he embarked on the course that led to his own condemnation to death. As a living man, he had been the ruler of but one faction. As a martyr, he would conquer the world! In 399 B. C. E. the democratic forces who had just re-established their rule over Athens, accused Socrates of "misleading the young" and "introducing new gods." At least the first and most important charge of the indictment was, as Hegel was the first to demonstrate, unimpeachable with regard to theory and perfectly in order with regard to practice. For we must bear in mind that among the dearest pupils of Socrates there had been Kritias, the bloodiest of all the Thirty Tyrants on one side, and, on the other, there was Alkibiades, who was responsible in large part for the crushing defeat, and attendant fall from power, of Athens in the disastrous Peloponnesian War. Socrates was found guilty, and had he now followed Athenian custom and requested a lenient sentence, he would undoubtedly have been let off lightly. Instead, he not only abjured every admission of guilt, but he even had the nerve to request that Athens bestow rewards upon him in recognition of the benefits that he has showered on the state and its youth! Certain now that their teacher will perish if he remains in Athens, his pupils arrange matters so that he will be permitted, without being hindered by the authorities, to escape his predicament. He categorically refuses the offer: for he wants to be executed, thus showing himself to be, once again, a forerunner of the Christian "redeemer."

Let us now begin to separate that which is fundamentally new in the Socratic teaching from that which can be dismissed as the stale wares of an epigone. In his own time, Socrates was judged to be the consummate Sophist. This judgment was certainly not intended to be a flattering one. He brought the hair-splitting dialectic and disputatious verbal jugglery of the Sophist to the pitch of perfection. The entire philosophy of the West has been encumbered ever since with this legacy. The sport of excelling by means of craft and the setting of snares (one side of which can be seen in the American competition-mania) was first perfected by the Socrates who described himself as a philosophical "mid-wife." Likewise, he was a Sophist to the letter in his ceaseless war against traditional order and traditional morality; he was the self-mastering man who submitted all weighty matters to his personal conscience. However—and here we come to the truly new Socratic turning—it is not the personality that is made out to be the measure of all values, but solely that element of personality, which enables man to separate himself from the Cosmos in order to ascend to a "higher" rank: the spirit, reason, or, more accurately, the sense of rational purposefulness!

We have it from Socrates himself that the consideration of cosmological hypotheses left him cold. He utterly despised such modes of "speculation," and, because he was completely ignorant of the magnificent cosmologies that had been achieved by the hylozoists, he insisted on viewing the whole of nature totally from the perspective of one who is only interested in its rational, practical applications.

The content of his philosophy is nothing but educational moralism.

The exposition of the Socratic findings must be subordinated to the exposition of the Socratic method, for it is not in the findings but in the method that his characteristic and unique contribution is to be found. Socrates employed a witty allusion to the vocation of his mother when he described his method as the maieutic, i. e., that of the mid-wife. He held the opinion that knowledge slumbers already in the soul of the student, and that it could be awakened solely through the employment of suitable concepts; thus, he sees his dialectical process, in a sense, as a birth. He was obviously denied the capacity to give birth himself in the natural fashion; but he says that he does have the modest gift that enables him to assist others to give birth—in the spiritual sense. The apparent modesty of this claim shows itself, on closer examination, to be rather startlingly arrogant. In the first place, Socrates insists that his opinion is to be accepted unconditionally by his students; but will it really be the opinion of his audience if it has managed to slumber within the listener to this very hour? In the second place, the entire procedure is presented as if, in fact, we are not concerned with the views of Socrates, or with any views under the sun, but, rather, with something that is beyond doubt, something certain, that only waits to be discovered. There is already a sophistical trick here, which, for sheer cunning, puts all previous sophistical tricks quite in the shade, for we never discover just how this spiritual obstetrics is to be set in motion. On the first point, it is quite obvious that the Socratic claim cannot be demonstrated in the style of the earlier Sophists, who announced their views in well-prepared lectures, skillfully delivered; the Sophists really attempted to persuade their audiences. Instead of that we get with Socrates a game of questions and answers, in which Socrates wards of all objections in the manner of the Japanese jiu-jitsu master warding off blows. Socrates never announces a proposition and defends his conclusion in statement and contradiction; instead, he causes the other speaker to advance judgments of his own. Socrates sees his first duty to be the refutation of such judgments. Placing the entire burden of proof upon the shoulders of the other speaker, Socrates easily demonstrates the untenable nature of the proofs that have been advanced by involving the speaker in absurdities. One may, perhaps, find that not everyone is inclined to follow this procedure of advancing propositions. In such cases, Socrates performs his unique trick. He stands silent; he laments that he still does not know what justice, virtue, and truth really are. He movingly begs the gods to teach him. This is the so-called Socratic irony; it is purely verbal, and, hence, a mere pretense. Soon a hesitant voice pronounces an opinion; in the blink of an eye Socrates is back at his dreadful and disputatious irony! Socrates is equipped with the perfect response to such fools as might ask additional questions: he has a hundred answers on hand. Every new answer unleashes ten new questions. The end is finally reached when the unlucky speaker lands himself in self-contradiction. The supposed knowledge was not real knowledge. At the beginning, Socrates was ignorant; the other speaker has shown him that he is even more ignorant than he had supposed. The first phase of the dialogue closes in an orderly manner, with this admission of ignorance. Now there begins the positive phase of the Socratic variety of mid-wifery, which, as we have already indicated, consists in bringing to conscious birth the knowledge that already exists within man. At this point in the proceedings, Socrates states that the other speaker’s ignorance was actually a limited, or incorrect, knowledge of himself, and Socrates proceeds to assist in enabling the other speaker to attain to the correct understanding.

We now observe the results that follow from the formal side. Once again, we see that Socrates merely continued a scientific direction that had already been initiated by the Sophists. To wit, he proceeds by way of the analysis of concepts, or, more accurately, through analyzing the conceptual content of words. Although the Sophists had, in fact, employed this method, it constituted merely a secondary matter for them. With Socrates, it becomes the over-mastering priority, and thus there begins with him a new direction of the history of spirit. The Ionic hylozoists philosophized on the basis of the consciousness of the object; the Sophists on the basis of the consciousness of the self; Socrates, finally, philosophizes on the basis of the consciousness of connection: for him the concept is the spiritual bond that connects the object and the self (object and subject).

First, there is established, in the midst of a many-sided research program into linguistics, the exact analysis of semantics; second, there is an attempt to fix the conceptual boundaries of words, by defining them. The purpose of all Socratic dialectic is, after all, to make decisions that relate to concepts. It used to be said of Socrates that he cleverly planted in words opinions that he already held. But he provided a not inconsiderable epistemological service, for he was the first to open up the study of concepts, and therefore he can be said to have inaugurated for the Western World a research trend that has remained in operation to this very day. For the West, it is not so much the facts regarding the external world, but more the linguistic facts, that have been solidly established; thus, induction has won the day as our (questionable) conceptual mediator. It is readily understood that for Socrates, the designation of concepts is intimately intertwined with the discovery of truth. Nevertheless, the prevailing interest in all of the Socratic dialectic is the arousing of the soul of the listener: that is the true meaning of the Socratic Eros.

We ourselves have given some thought to the biological tendency exhibited in such a method, and our reflections have led us to the following conclusion: Socratism is founded upon a faith in the exclusive worthiness of conceptual thought (or consciousness). Regardless of whether an act was performed by a superior or an inferior person, the act can have no serious consequences so long as the person in question understands the motives for his actions; instinct, drive, and finally life itself are explained by Socrates as ignorance, and not, as with St. Paul as sin. On the other hand, all good arises from (reflective) cognition. The Socratic method entails the Socratic findings, about which we will now have a few words.

Vice, sin, and deficiency of all sort, arise in error; virtue, excellence, and privilege are the results of correct insight (Phronesis). Phronesis can be taught, because its substance already resides within the soul of the erring person; but it is, as yet, only unconscious. Thus, virtue can be taught. Whoever attains to the correct insight, gains total possession of the self; he adopts a style of self-control that also enables him to hold himself accountable to that insight. This is done to achieve temporal as well as eternal blessedness (eudemonism). The Socratic ethic is, therefore, eudemonistic, but it is, at the same time, completely intellectual (the Kantian ethic is only the most recent model!). In its intellectualism, it establishes that it holds the primacy of virtue (or rectitude), in contrast to the Sophists, to be impersonal as well as universally binding; in its eudemonism, it remains utterly external, as this very principal ordains, because Socrates has told us that universally binding rectitude results in a completely practical purposefulness (aimed at attaining an even more absolute blessedness). Thus we revolve in an endless circle, for we are given no yardstick by which we can differentiate between a personal purposefulness and an impersonal one. It is merely a matter of formula when we are told that the true measure lies not outside us but rather within. Telling us that the true measure can be found within us remains the last word of the Socratic morality.

519. Images and their Messages. Consciousness is no active power, but is, instead, the token that, in the sphere of life, individual acts having no temporal extension have taken place, partly at the demand of spirit and partly under the compulsion of vitality; and similarly, the feelings (which here also include moods) are not active powers, but, metaphorically expressed, are messengers bearing instructions; messengers, in the animal, of active images to the active body-soul of the animal, and, in man, messengers of his active vitality to his active ego. Man too, of course, receives messages from his images, and even less than the animals has he the faculty of entering into communication with them by contemplation, and without the intervention of messengers: but this state is no longer feeling, and those messages generally pass, by way of his vitality, to the new center of his body, the ego, where they receive an immediate response, being either accepted or declined, in such a manner that they must rather be considered as signals which inform us about the never-resting traffic between the "it" (Id) and the ego. Instructions given by the ego to the "it," when followed, manifest themselves in feelings of self-assertion, whose active side (that of urges) very often occasions acts of will; instructions given by the "it" to the ego, when followed, manifest themselves in feelings of self-devotion, the urge-side of which can likewise occasion acts of will, but more often leads to a dethronement of the ego, which has very different mental states for signal. This description is slightly incomplete, because disturbances take place already in the sphere of the ego, which also are signaled by feelings. (SW 4 pp. 363-4)
 520. Reflections on "Psychoanalysis". So-called psychoanalysis (=analysis of the soul) is the bizarre bastard spawned by a still more bizarre misalliance: that between Herbart’s atomism of representation and Nietzsche’s philosophy of self-deception. It is obvious also that the monstrous creature bears traces of certain additional influences of a more exotic nature, for example, in the shape of the doctrine that the entire man, and, indeed, the entire world, is just sex; or, to express it more moderately, that the living individual is a mere appendix to his genes, a variable dependent in relation to them. This is an idea of which traces are found already with Schopenhauer, and which was cultivated later by various biologists, who derived this notion from a doctrine that was espoused by medicine long ago (certain scholastic doctors, for example, taught that sperma virile, if not spent, rises into the brain and there becomes spirit). But this kind of theory really has only a vulgar interest, and is a mere unsubstantiated belief; a proof cannot even be attempted from the very nature of the case. (If, in accordance with this theory, the equation is set up, God = sex, then we have one of the main directions of the psychoanalytic Weltanschauung; if the equation is reversed, sex = God, we have the other direction.) We need not pursue this any further.

From Herbart, whose tradition was never completely interrupted in Austria, we receive the idea of species of atoms of imagination which struggle for admission on the "threshold of consciousness," sometimes inhibiting and at other times aiding one another; from Herbart also we receive the idea of repression; according to him, all strivings are due to instances of repression…When this idea was linked together with Nietzsche’s view, which attributes a decisive influence upon the course of the activity of consciousness to the urges, and not least to the urges for self-esteem, a mythology of the so-called unconscious arose to which we must allow the charm of the sensational, had not its inventors been wholly afflicted with imaginative blindness. For this unconscious has a curious resemblance to a well-prepared defense lawyer; its sole function is to use every kind of maneuver in order to persuade consciousness to believe in whatever would be advantageous to the obvious, and even more to the secret, interests of the conscious entity, and especially to shatter its belief in everything that might disturb his self-esteem. Nietzsche’s subtle and profound investigations of the tactics of self-deception are here translated into the language of the tedious office politics that may be studied in modern business life or in the diplomatic ploys of our politicians. This method seeks a more prestigious status by calling itself "depth-psychology."

But whatever may be the origin of all this, the psychoanalyst asserts that he is in possession of the truth, and points for confirmation to the innumerable "cases" of which he disposes, i.e., his patients. However, two sides of the case must here be distinguished: the confession that the analyst elicits from the patient by means of an examination that is based upon what he imagines to be so-called associations, and successful cures by means of what is described by the pretty word "abreaction" [Abreaktion]. With regard to the confessions, the entire history of psychoanalysis really spares us the proof that they either possess, or can possess, any demonstrative force. At first the data obtained through this species of confessional were taken at their face value, i.e., as being events that had really transpired in the life of the confessor. Later on, however, it was found necessary to take them partly for fiction, although they might have a certain symptomatic value; and today even this symptomatic value has undergone a change, because it is clear that such confessions are often merely expressions of how the "conscious" mind of the patient would prefer to see the meaning of his trouble (and hence himself) interpreted. But whatever is the proportion of demonstrable events, of supplementary material, and of unadulterated fiction, the insistent view that this method will lead to the discovery of the etiology of the disease overlooks the fact that the source of the disease is already presupposed as an x, if this confessional method (which is often extended through years) is to be possible at all. Further, it is necessary only to look more closely at any complicated example of analysis to see that the meaning of the case, which the examiner requires for the validation of his doctrine, is imported by him, and that he achieves success by virtue of a method which has the rare advantage that it never fails: to the extent that the data that he elicits suit his view, he takes them literally; to the extent that they do not, he takes them metaphorically, or, rather, as phantasms that have been substituted for wholly different contents of imagination. For this purpose he has prepared a system of a sexual symbolic language that, without exaggeration, can be applied to any single object in the universe. (For, after all, one can pigeon hole every object in the universe as being convex or concave in some manner!) One must share this faith in order to believe in this kind of imaginary demonstration. 

There remain, then, the cures. In order not to involve ourselves in endless digressions, let us examine them point by point: (1) If we possessed statistics of unassailable accuracy about all patients who were treated by psychoanalysis, we might become skeptical about these healers. Apart from a certain proportion of persons who were relieved of the disturbing symptoms, we would find a large proportion of those who ran away from their examiners, and no small proportion of those who were all the worse for the confessional. We are aware of most serious cases of this kind; (2) It is certain that these classes exist; but the proportions remain uncertain, for we do not possess statistics. We will therefore confine ourselves to the cures. We disregard the fact that in the treatment of every patient, but especially of a neurotic, the personal influence of the healer (whether he is a declared hypnotist, or homeopath, or internist, or psychoanalyst, etc.) plays an incalculable part. We also disregard the fact that psychoanalysis was fashionable for a time and still is so to some extent, and therefore, for reasons that will easily be understood, carries with it, in the eyes of the neurotic patient, an aura which assists the cure. On the other hand, it does something that would retain its curative value, even if all of the reasons that determine it were false: it gives the patient a full opportunity of "having a good talk." Here it follows the approved methods of the Roman Catholic confessional. (3) In addition, it deals chiefly with hysterical patients. If we were right in saying that the hysterical type possesses abnormally small formative force combined with a highly developed desire to represent, then it encourages him even to tell tales, to lie, and to invent; it affords him an opportunity of forming his inner life. (4) But it affects something greater besides. Probably more neurotic types, and certainly all hysterical, suffer from secret feelings of inferiority, although they are not always aware of the fact. Although the psychoanalytical confessional may be a plague, it offers him a ten-fold recompense by showing him new possibilities of taking himself seriously--very seriously--internally. Whatever crackpot notion or thought may creep through his consciousness, it is seen to be significant; it may even turn out to be an enchanted prince! A curious method, though nonetheless efficient, for strengthening self-esteem. (5) But psychoanalysis also has its secret, which, however, we are unwilling to publish, for perhaps it is effective only because the psychoanalysts themselves do not know it. Also, in order to reveal it, we would have to unfold the psychologist’s psychology, which, though somewhat more entertaining than psychoanalysis, would also require a more lengthy exposition. If the author of these lines were a neurologist, he too would occasionally psychoanalyze his patients, and, perhaps, he too would be successful: not because he considers there to be any truth in the psychoanalytic chat, but because he holds that this prescription fits with amazing exactness a contemporary variety of neurosis. The two arise together necessarily, and will vanish together, for every epoch has its own neurosis, and no epoch that of another.

We trust that none of our readers will harbor the absurd suspicion that this effusion upon psychoanalysis is intended as an attack upon psychoanalysts. A genuine psychoanalyst cannot be refuted, and he is a fool who makes the attempt. It is true that there are many psychoanalysts who are not psychoanalysts at all. They do as Rome does--as the author too would do if he specialized in nervous cases. (In this matter the purse too can play a part.) But the real psychoanalyst--the man who holds the psychoanalytical Weltanschauung--is the true member of a religion, and as such cannot be assailed. If objections to personal immortality are raised before a strict Christian, he would not pay a moment’s attention to them, but would ask himself what faults or even sins of the speaker prevented the light of the truth from illuminating him. If objections are raised before a true psychoanalyst, he does not attend to their value as proofs for a moment, but only asks himself what complexes or "repressions" (of sexual origin, of course) can be preventing the speaker from seeing and recognizing the light of truth--of psychoanalytic truth, that is. Predestination, beginning at the gene, determines the genuine psychoanalyst as it determines the genuine Christian. We therefore do not touch upon this matter; but we considered it proper to say a word about this scientific fashion, because we ourselves had an opinion to offer upon the nature of hysteria.

We would add expressly that there is one psychoanalyst to whom the above remarks about psychoanalysts do not apply unreservedly, namely, Freud. The man who founds a religion or initiates a new direction--and every direction has one initiator only--is of a very different stamp from his disciples, a fact which is not altered by feeble attempts at insubordination such as occur among all bodies of disciples: but Freud is a pioneer, and if any part of his work should survive, it will be associated with his name, and with his name alone. If he believes in the doctrine of psychoanalysis, he does so because he made, or, if it be preferred, created it: and although a pioneer can neither be taught nor converted, it requires no common degree of simplicity in order to confuse his obstinacy with that of a disciple. The psychology of the pioneer is of a different class, and does not here concern us. But we would say that this man has some of the true speculative spirit, together with temperament and stubborn tenacity. Unfortunately, he has an inferior soul and a narrow horizon. This is to be regretted for other than merely practical reasons, for such thoroughbred energy might have been expected to make real, and not only imaginary, discoveries! (SW 4 pp. 329-32)
  521. Man and Earth. Every age, and ours is surely no exception, proclaims certain slogans which embody the inner tendencies of the age. Such slogans possess the power to silence the voice of doubt in the minds of disciples as if with a deafening roar of drums. A new trend is always on display, and even the unbiased few soon congregate around its banner. The three predominant slogans of our own time are "progress," "culture," and "personality." As it happens, in order that the idea of progress may achieve ascendancy as the exclusive creed of our times, its rivals soon relinquish their positions and lend their support, and even their characteristic colors, to the victor. Thus, there are those who suggest that we cannot be inferior to the "primitive" peoples to whom our history books devote a few preliminary paragraphs, and for anyone who questions them as to the basis for their conviction, they have a ready response: science now commands heights never before achieved, and technology has at last subjugated nature—therefore, every earlier form of human culture must beat a helpless retreat before them. Science, which now effectively exploits the inexhaustible riches of the earth, methodically contributes to the general prosperity; space and time are permeated by long-distance communication systems, and even the limitless atmosphere has finally been "conquered" by the genius of technology. It is not, however, for the convinced disciple of this faith in technology (which will die with him), but more for the members of a younger generation, which still asks questions, that we desire to lift at least a corner of the veil in order to reveal the perilous self-deception that lurks behind it.

In addition, those who still see something strange in the view that the guiding idea of "progress" has led to horrendous results, should be puzzled for other reasons. To the ancient Greeks, the loftiest desire was to achieve "kalokagathie," which was that harmonious wedding of man's inner and outer beauty that they saw embodied in the images of the Olympians; to the men of the Middle Ages, it was the "salvation of the soul," which they saw as the soul's ultimate ascension to God; to the man of Goethe's time, it was the poised perfection of style, the masterful acceptance of one's destiny; and no matter how diverse such goals may have been, we can easily comprehend the profound satisfaction that was experienced by those whose good fortune enabled them to achieve them. But the progress-monger of today is mindlessly proud of his successes, for he has somehow managed to convince himself that every increase in mankind's power entails an equivalent increase in mankind's value. We must doubt, however, whether he is able to experience true joy, and not just the hollow satisfaction afforded him by the mere possession of power. By itself, however, power is completely blind to all values, blind to truth as it is blind to justice. Finally, power is undoubtedly blind to all the beauty of the life that has thus far survived the encounter with "progress." Let us add some well-known items to our account.

The pre-eminence of science is conceded; it is immune to all objections, however slight. The high standing of technology is also beyond doubt. And yet one might well ask: what are the fruits thereof? As the Bible wisely says, it is only "by their fruits" that we should estimate the value of the works of man. Let us begin with beings whose status as living organisms no one would question: the plants and animals. We recall that the ancients dreamt of a lost "Golden Age," or "paradise," a realm wherein the lion would lie down with the lamb, and the serpent would dwell with man as his protective spirit. Even this idea is not so utterly fantastic as the false doctrine that teaches us that all of nature is perpetually in the grip of a ceaseless "struggle-for-existence."

The scientists who study the polar regions tell us of the fearless intimacy with which penguins, reindeers, sea lions, seals, and sea-gulls greet the first appearance of man. Pioneers who have explored the tropical regions never fail to amaze us with the images they communicate, especially those which pertain to the moment in which these students first perceive, arrayed in peaceful cohabitation, swarms of wild geese, cranes, ibis, flamingoes, herons, storks, marabous, giraffes, zebras, gnus, antelopes, and gazelles. We understand completely the true symbiosis that embraces the entire animal kingdom, and which extends throughout the entire planet. However, as soon as the man of "progress" arrives on the scene, he announces his masterful presence by spreading death and the horror of death all around him. How many of the species of creatures that flourished in ancient Germanic lands have lasted into our century? Bear and wolf, lynx and wildcat, bison, elk and aurochs, eagle and vulture, crane and falcon, swan and owl, have all become creatures inhabiting only our fairy-tales; this was the case, in fact, even before the introduction of our new and improved wars of annihilation. But there is cause for even deeper merriment. Under the most moronic of all pretexts—which insists that vast numbers of animal species are actually noxious pests—our progress-monger has extirpated nearly every creature who happens not to be a partridge, a roe-deer, a pheasant, or, if need be, a pig. Wild boar, ibex, fox, pine marten, weasel, duck and otter—all animals with which the legends dear to our memory are intimately intertwined--are shrinking in numbers, where, that is, they have not already become extinct; sea gull, tern, cormorant, duck, heron, kingfisher, red kite and owlet are all ruthlessly hunted down; the communities of seals on the coasts of the North Sea and the Baltic are condemned to destruction. We know more than two hundred names of German towns and villages whose names derive from the word "beaver," a fact that constitutes proof of the flourishing of these industrious rodents in earlier times; today there still exists a small preserve on the Elbe river between Torgau and Wittenberg, but even this refuge will soon disappear without immediate statutory protection. And who is not afflicted with grave anxiety to witness, year after year, the disappearance of our beloved singers, the migratory birds? Only a mere generation ago the blue air of our cities was filled all summer long with the whir and buzz of swallows and the cries of sailors, sounds that, emerging from the distance, seemed to fill one with the yearning for travel. At that time, one could count, in one suburb of Munich alone, as many as three hundred occupied nests, whereas today one can only find four or five. More ominously, the countryside has become eerily silent, throbbing no longer as it once did every dew-laden morning in the joyous melody of Eichendorff’s "countless larks." Already one must consider oneself fortunate if, whilst walking along a remote forest path near a grassy, sunlit hollow, one is privileged to hear just once the luminous and yearning call of the quail; at one time, throughout the length and breadth of Germany, these birds numbered many, many thousands, and they lived in the songs of the common people as well as in the works of our poets. Magpie, woodpecker, golden oriole, warbler, rooster, grouse, and nightingale, they are all disappearing, and the decline seems to be utterly beyond remedy.

Today we see ever-increasing hordes huddled together in our big cities, where they grow accustomed to the soot belching from the chimneys and the thunderous turmoil of the streets, where the nights are as bright as the days. These urban masses believe that they have had an adequate introduction to the world of nature as soon as they've caught a glimpse of a potato-field, or seen a single starling perched upon a branch of an emaciated road-side tree. But, to anyone who recalls the sounds and scents of the German landscape of seventy years ago, from out of the words and images in which these memories are embodied a wind would arise to pronounce a warning reproach to the lost souls of today as soon they begin to regurgitate their weather-proof platitudes about "economic development," "necessities," and "culture." 

We express no opinion as to whence mere utility derives its deplorable authority over all modern transactions. Nor will we waste our time in belaboring a point that will soon become common knowledge; we merely state the simple fact that in no conceivable case will human beings ever meet with success in their attempt to "correct" nature. Wherever the population of song-birds dwindles, we find an immeasurable proliferation of blood-sucking insects and caterpillars, which can devour whole vineyards and forests in a matter of days; wherever one shoots the buzzard and exterminates the adder, a plague of mice swiftly erupts to bring destruction to the bee-hives. As a result, the fertilization of the clover, which depends upon the bees, will not occur. With the aid of improved weapons, hunters massacre the finest specimens of wild deer, thus bringing about the degeneration of the herd through the excess reproduction of the unfit survivors, in an environment without natural predators; and this unthinking slaughter will continue in this fashion until a serious reaction on the part of wounded nature springs up in exotic lands, in the shape of terrible epidemics, which fasten themselves to the heel of "civilized" Europe. This enables us to understand that the far-eastern plague was, in actuality, the result of the wholesale marketing in Asia of the pelts of rodents such as the wood chuck. Let us put these facts to one side in order that we may focus a bright ray of light upon the one, decisive point: these examples conclusively prove that the profits that are produced by these commercial transactions do not have the slightest connection with any pressing material needs.

What the Germans refer to as an "Alpine forest," is just a recently reforested stand; a true Alpine forest, as it appears to us in myth and saga, will spread itself all the way to the ends of the earth. America, which during the time of the Indians was endowed with the richest forests on earth, has now begun to import lumber; the few regions that export their timber, i. e., Hungary, Russia, Scandinavia, and Canada, will soon be the only regions endowed with a surplus. The "progressive" nations, taken as a whole, annually cut down three hundred and fifty thousand tons of timber for the production of paper, thereby cutting down one book every two minutes, and one magazine every second; we can appreciate, from these rough estimates alone, just how massive the production of these items in the "civilized" world really is. Someone should at least attempt to explain to us why it is necessary to inundate the world with such quantities of newspapers, scandal-sheets, and fictional thrillers; should no explanation be forthcoming, we must consequently consider the cutting down of primeval forests to be an even greater offense.

The Italians annually hunt down millions of migratory birds along their coasts, and they perform this operation in the most gruesome manner; what they themselves don't consume, is packed up for export to England and France. Numbers will express this more clearly: in one example from 1909, a single vessel transported two hundred and sixty thousand living quails, who were shipped in narrow cages to England, where the poor creatures were kept in miserable conditions, until the quail fanciers got around to butchering them. On the Sorrento peninsula, year after year, the birds have been captured alive, in numbers ranging as high as five hundred thousand. For Egypt, the tally of the exterminated reaches three million, not counting the untold numbers of larks, ortolans, warblers, swallows, and nightingales who also perished. It was not hunger that required the slaughter of these plumed singers: they fell to luxury and greed. More gruesome still is the devastation directly attributable to the fashion industry, as we learn when we read about those greedy designers and merchants whose faculty of invention seems to have been inspired by Satan himself. In the words of the Cri de Paris: "The Parisian milliners annually utilize up to forty thousand swallows and sea-gulls. A London merchant purchased during the preceding year thirty-two thousand colibris, eighty thousand sea birds, and eight hundred thousand birds of different species. It is known that every year no fewer than three hundred million birds are killed to adorn our ladies of fashion. There are lands where distinctive species once gave a unique appearance to regions from which they have now vanished. To guarantee that the feathers and down retain their brilliance, they must be plucked from the body of the birds while they still live. That is why one may not hunt the poor creatures with guns, but with nets. These inhuman hunters tear the feathers from their victims, who must endure the sufferings of the great martyrs before they perish in horrendous convulsions."

Thinking of himself as well-bred, man refuses to acknowledge the existence of such awkward happenings, while his women callously adorn themselves with the melancholy trophies of the hunt. It need not be emphasized, that every one of the animal species that we have listed, along with many others such as the "bird of paradise," are nearing the brink of extinction. Sooner or later, the same fate will befall every animal species, except for those whom man has destined for breeding or for domestication.

The billions of animal pelts of North America, the countless blue foxes, sables, and Siberian ermines, all point to the excesses of the fashion industry. In Copenhagen, in the years since 1908, a corporation has been developing a "method of hunting whales in a more peaceful manner, and according to a new method," i.e., employing ocean-factories, which process the carcasses immediately after the hunt. These "swimming" factories, during the course of the two following years, processed approximately five hundred thousand of the largest mammals on the earth, and the day is swiftly approaching when the whale known to history will have become a mere museum-exhibit.

For millennia the American buffalo, the prized game of the Indians, roamed the prairie. But scarcely had the European set foot on the continent, when a lawless and savage slaughter broke out, so that today the buffalo is over and done with. In time, the same sad spectacle will be enacted in Africa. "In order to furnish our so-called civilized man with billiard balls, buttons, combs, and similar tremendously necessary articles, the most recent calculations provided by Tournier of Paris indicate that eight hundred thousand kilograms of pure ivory are processed annually. The result is the yearly slaughter of fifty thousand of the most stupendous of the world’s creatures…In the same way occurred the merciless killing of the antelope, the rhino, the wild horse, the kangaroo, the giraffe, the ostrich, and the gnu in the tropics, along with the polar bear, musk ox, arctic fox, walrus, and seal in the arctic zone. An unparalleled orgy of destruction has seized mankind, and it is "civilization" that has unleashed this lust for murder, so that the earth withers before its noxious breath. These are indeed the fruits of "progress"!

All of these facts are well known. Well-meaning and warm-hearted individuals have raised the warning cry again and again during the past ten years, urging mankind to protect nature and to preserve regional traditions from abuse; unfortunately, neither the deepest causes for, nor the massive consequences of, the menace to nature have been comprehended. However, before we probe more deeply into these matters, we must continue to pronounce our accusation.

We need not concern ourselves with determining whether or not life extends beyond our world, or whether the earth is, in fact, a living being (which was the belief of the ancients), or merely an unfeeling lump of "dead matter" (the modern view); it is only because the earth endures, that the tracts of land, the play of clouds, the bodies of water, the cloak of plant-life, and the ceaseless activity of the animal kingdom, have all been woven together in a profoundly animated totality, which gathers the individual creatures together as if within an ark, which, in turn, is itself closely bound together with the great events of the infinite universe. An indispensable harmony resounds in the clamorous storms of the planet, in the sublime bleakness of the wilderness, in the solemnity of the highest mountains, in the appealing melancholy of the endless heath, in the mysterious fabric of towering forests, and in the pulsating lightning of the sea-storm as it hurls its bolts against the coastline. Or this harmony may exist in a dreamy immersion in the primordial works of man. If, in a moment of profound reverie, we should direct our gaze upon the pyramids, the Sphinx, and the lotus-shaped capitals of Egypt's columns; or upon the brightly decorated bell-towers of the Chinese and the structural clarity of the Hellenic temple; or upon the warm domesticity of the Dutch farmhouse and the Tartar encampment on the open steppes: we perceive that all of these creations breathe the very soul of the landscape upon which they stand. Earlier cultures said that such structures had "sprung from the earth"; thus, we too see that there is form and color in everything that has sprung from the earth, from the dwellings to the weapons and household implements, the daggers, spears, axes, swords, necklaces, brooches, and rings, the elegant decorated vessels, the cakes filled with nuts, the vessels of copper, and the thousand-fold textures and fabrics. More frightful still than those items that we have already surveyed—albeit not quite so irremediable—are the effects of "progress" in the colonial regions. The connection between the works of man and the earth has now been disrupted, shattering for centuries--perhaps permanently--the primordial song of the landscape. Now railroad tracks, telegraph poles, and high-voltage power cables cut through the contours of forest and mountain; this can be seen not only in Europe, but in India, Egypt, Australia, and America as well. The gray, multi-level apartment blocks that stand attached to an endless row of identical structures, sprout up wherever an educated person wishes to display his ability to increase "prosperity." Everywhere, the rural fields are "combined" into rectangular plots, ancient grave-sites are disturbed, thriving nurseries are obliterated, the reed-bordered fishponds dry up, and the flourishing forested wilderness of yesteryear has had to surrender its pristine state, because all trees must now line up like soldiers, and every woodland must be purged of the old thickets of "poisonous" undergrowth; the winding rivers which once suspended themselves in glittering, labyrinthine curves, must now become perfectly straight canals; the swift streams and waterfalls-and this is true even for Niagara-must now feed electric power-plants; ever-expanding forests of smoke-stacks reach all the way to the oceans’ shores; and the water-pollution caused by industry transforms nature's pristine waters into raw sewage. Very soon, the face of the earth will be transformed into a gigantic Chicago, pocked with a few patches of agriculture! "My God," cried out the noble Achim von Arnim at the beginning of the last century, "where are the old trees, under which we still rode only yesterday? And what has happened to the ancient inscriptions carved upon the boundary-stones? These things are already forgotten by our people, and nothing could be sadder than to see us striking against our own roots. When the peak of a towering mountain has been but once stripped of its timber, no timber will ever grow there again; my mission is to see that Germany’s heritage will not be squandered!" And Lenau’s impressions of the landscape of our homeland made him feel that nature has been stuffed up to the throat so that blood spurts from her every pore. What would these men have to say to us today! Perhaps they might, like Heinrich von Kleist, decide to quit the earth, whose son, man himself, has brought such shame upon his head. "The devastation of the Thirty Years’ War did not bring about such fundamental alterations of the heritage of the past in town and countryside as the obsession of modern life with its ruthless, one-sided pursuit of practical purposes." (From the announcement of the establishment of the "League for Nature Preservation"). However, as regards the hypocritical "nature feeling" of the tourist trade, we need hardly direct our attention to the devastation which its "exploitation" of remote coastal regions and mountain valleys leaves in its wake. Even these matters were comprehensively addressed, again and yet again, but the effort was wasted. The complete presentation was developed by 1880 through the efforts of the first rate writer Rudorff, to whose 1910 essay "On the Relation of Modern Life to Nature" we would direct every reader’s attention.

As if those things were not enough, the rage for extermination has now dragged its bloody furrow through mankind himself. Tribal populations have dwindled, and some tribes have even vanished. Some were exterminated or starved to death, while others succumbed to disease; all were forced to accept the blessings of "progress": brandy, opium, and syphilis. The Indians are over and done with; the Australian aborigines are finished; the noblest Polynesian are at their last gasp; the most courageous African warriors have fought the good fight, but now they too must give way to "civilization "; and Europe has just seen an equally courageous folk, Europe's last primordial tribe, the Albanians--those "Eagle-sons," whose ancestry can be traced directly back to the legendary "Pelasgians"--methodically killed, by the thousands, at the hands of the Serbs.

Make no mistake: "progress " is the lust for power and nothing besides, and we must unmask its method as a sick, destructive joke. Utilizing such pretexts as " necessity," "economic development," and "culture," the final goal of "progress" is nothing less than the destruction of life. This destructive urge takes many forms: progress is devastating forests, exterminating animal species, extinguishing native cultures, masking and distorting the pristine landscape with the varnish of industrialism, and debasing the organic life that still survives. It is the same for livestock as for the mere commodity, and the boundless lust for plunder will not rest until the last bird falls. To achieve this end, the whole weight of technology has been pressed into service, and at last we realize that technology has become by far the largest domain of the sciences.

Let us pause here for a moment. In a certain sense, even man belongs to nature; some even suggest that man nature belongs entirely to nature; as we will see, that is certainly an erroneous view. In any case, when something within him struggles with life, it is not, after all, struggling with man himself. Our chain of evidence will lose its most important links if we do not also offer illustrations of the self-demoralization of mankind. 

The roll call of the dead, which could be inscribed here, even were it to be restricted to the most important names, would far exceed the list of fallen animals. It will suffice to commemorate a few prominent victims: where are the popular festivals and sacred customs, which for uncounted millennia served as perpetual springs for myth and poetry? Where is now the rider on the meadow who sows the precious seeds? And where can we find the procession of the Pentecostal bride and the torch-bearer running through the cornfields? Where is now the intricate richness of traditional costume, in which every folk could express its own nature, on its own landscape? The rich pendants, the multicolored bodices, the decorated waistcoats, sashes adorned with precious metals, and the light sandals? Where can we find now the toga-styled shawls, the pleated turbans, and flowing kimonos? They are all being replaced by "civilized" attire. Throughout the world civilization distributes the three-piece suit for the men, and for the women--the latest Parisian style.

Where now do we find the folk-song, that ever-renewed treasury of melody, which cloaks with its fabric of silver man's growing-old and passing away. Wedding-feast and solemn wake, revenge, war and destruction, drunkenness and wanderlust, the feeling of a child and the delight of a mother, all of these things breathe and stream in inexhaustible songs, which can swiftly provoke one to a fiery action, or swiftly cradle another in the sleep of forgetfulness. There were once poems and songs composed for the dance, for the brimming goblet, for farewell and homecoming, for consecration and magical incantation, for the dusk that falls in the spinning room; before the battle, and at the bier of the slain, one was stirred by songs of scorn, by martial anthems of a dark-bright poetry blending mountain, spring, and shrub, the animals of the household, wild game and plant, the force of the wind and the torrent of rain. Even work was felt to be a kind of festival, a feeling that has long since been inconceivable to us. Song was not reserved solely for roving and revelry; song accompanied the hoisting of the anchor, the rhythm of the oar-stroke, the shifting of heavy cargo, the towing of the ship, the stowing of the casks, the blacksmith's hammering, and the rowing of the oarsmen; there was song for the mowing, threshing, and grinding of the corn, and for the picking, braiding, and weaving of the flax. Not only has "progress" made life gray, it has also silenced life's very voice. But no-we forget that after the primordial melody of the popular ballads comes the operetta and the syrupy idioms of the cabaret; after legendary musical instruments like the Spanish guitar, the Italian mandolin, the Finnish kantela, the gusli of the Southern Slavs, and the Russian balalaika, there comes the piano and the record-player. There we have the fruits of "progress"! Like an all-devouring conflagration, "progress" scours the earth, and the place that has fallen to its flames, will flourish nevermore, so long as man still survives. The animal- and plant-species cannot renew themselves, man’s native warmth of heart has gone, the inner springs that once nurtured the flourishing songs and sacred festivals are blocked, and there remains only a wretched and cold working day and the hollow show of noisy "entertainment." There can be no doubt: we are living in the era of the downfall of the soul.

There would be still large personalities under such circumstances! We certainly do not wish to underestimate the ingenuity of the masters of technology, nor the computational talent of our captains of industry. Nevertheless, if one placed such mere talent alongside a true creator's strength, we must surely come to the conclusion that technology is without the slightest capacity to enrich life. The cleverest machine has meaning only in the service of a purpose, and even the most extensive industrial organization of today will be nothing in a thousand years; whereas the poetry of Homer, the wise words of Heraclitus, and the symphonies of Beethoven belong to the undying treasures of life. But how sad we become, when we think of those who once were justly proclaimed to us as the most illustrious of men, when we look at our poets and thinkers of today! Whom do we have still, since the veterans of the spirit and the deed have departed: Burckhardt, Boecklin, Bachofen, Mommsen, Bismarck, Keller, and even Nietzsche, the last flame from that old fire, all of them gone without a trace, without a successor! It is as empty up on Parnassus, as it is in politics and thought, and we will maintain a discreet silence regarding the putrefying arts. When we come down to the level of everyday life, we can see very clearly the total nihilism behind all the commonplace chatter about "personality" and "culture."

Most men do not really live, they merely exist: some to be used up as if they were mere machines in the service of some great undertaking, and some to be reduced to the status of money's slaves, deliriously busying themselves with the value of stocks and bonds; some, finally, attach themselves to the frenzied diversions offered by the big city. Many, likewise, are oppressed by the wretched and ever-increasing tedium of this existence. In no earlier time was unhappiness greater or more poisonous. Groups of men, large or small, whose members are bound each to the other in the furtherance of some special interest, struggle endlessly to destroy their enemies. Such enmity may arise from commercial, political, racial, or religious grounds. At times one may discover such crazed power-struggles even within a single association. Humans the world over always seem to project their own prejudices onto their environment. Thus, man foists his own obsession with status and power onto nature, wherein he swiftly discovers a wild struggle-for-existence; he convinces himself that he must have been in the right if he alone survived this struggle-for-existence; and he paints the world in the guise of a great machine, where the pistons only give off the steam that must turn the wheels, in order that " energy " - one does not see to what end -will be transferred, and he accompanies all of this with a bit of idle chatter about the so-called "philosophy of monism," which utterly falsifies the billion-fold life of nature in order to reduce the universe to the level of the human ego. Where one previously prized love, or renunciation, or a god-intoxicated withdrawal from the world, we find instead a newly hatched success-religion, which is announced, from atop the graves of former ages, to those of little faith, whose coming had been anticipated by Nietzsche, who, with white-hot scorn and a knowing wink, makes his "last man" proclaim: "We have invented happiness!"

Of course, the superficial errors in all of these systems, sects, and tendencies will not be with us for very much longer. Nature knows no "struggle for existence," but only a caring for life. Many insects die after the act of procreation, thus demonstrating the slight emphasis that nature places upon mere preservation. Nature only insures that similar forms will continue to unfold amid the surging waves of life. What prompts one animal to hunt another to the death is simply the need to appease the predator’s hunger; greed, ambition, and the lust for power have no place here. In reality, there is a gaping abyss here that no evolutionary logic will ever bridge. Species were never exterminated by other species, since every excess on one side is followed almost immediately by a reciprocal reaction on the other; the ranks of the vanquished are thinned, and the booty of the slain foe becomes the sustenance of the stronger. Transformation, however, is consummated over gigantic periods of time, and invariably leads to a burgeoning of lower life-forms in the vicinity. The annihilation of hundreds of species during the course of mankind’s earthly tenure permits no point of comparison with the wholesale extinction of the dinosaur and the mammoth.

Utterly mindless, moreover, is the transfer of the numerically quantifiable operations of the physical laws that govern the conservation of energy, to questions of life. No single living cell has ever been created in a chemical retort, and should science ever announce such an achievement, it will not have been as a result of some combination of physical forces, but because even the chemical matter with which such an experiment must begin is already instinct with life. Life is an enduring, perpetual renewal of formative power; and we extinguish some measure of such power whenever we exterminate a living species, and the earth will be impoverished till the end of time because of it, regardless of any detriment to the so-called conservation of energy.

As we have said, such erroneous teachings will fade and perish eventually, but the resulting, all-too-real eventualities that they have brought to pass will remain, making all those conceptual schemes seem more like mere shadows of thought than the genuine article. There is certainly no basis for the opinion that considers the on-going destruction to be a mere side-effect of passing conditions, out of which will arise some sort of attempt at reconstruction. With that we arrive at the meaning of the preceding course of events to which man has given the name "world history."

The ancient Greeks had no skill with electrical wiring, power cables, and radios, and this fact sheds light on their habitual scorn for physical science, which they saw as a rather lowly business. But only they could construct temples, carve images on columns, and cut precious gems, of such beauty and delicacy, that we can only compete with them by presenting our most artificial tools! Without conducting experiments, and supported only by everyday perception, the Greek philosophers have influenced, and in large part governed, the course of western thought for over two millennia. The didactic virtue of Socrates has been revived in the scrawnier "categorical imperative" of Kant; the Platonic "doctrine of the Ideas" has been revived in the aesthetics of Schopenhauer; and the philosophical framework of the atomistic theory of chemistry stems directly from Democritus. Faced with these facts, is it not more likely that the Greeks avoided physical science not because of their lack of capacity for such study, but because they chose not to have any dealings with it? Perhaps their mystics might enable us to recover many insights that have been lost to us? Let us take another example: the Chinese of antiquity would have seen all our modern discoveries as alien to their culture; the modern Chinese would feel the same way towards these discoveries, had we not compelled China to accept them by force. We are likewise impressed by the great Chinese philosophers, sages such as Laotse or Lia Dsi, who speak to us in words of such wisdom that even Goethe seems a mere bungler by comparison. Thus, if the Chinese did not possess a science with whose assistance they might have been able to build cannons, blow up mountains, and grace their tables with margarine, that is because they had no desire for these things. Behind the scenes certain forces are controlling mankind, and it is only by examining these forces that we can understand a crucial fact: before the progressive research of modern times could be undertaken, the intellectuals had to be conditioned to adopt a philosophical theory upon which would be founded a required practice: we call that practice capitalism. 

No intelligent person can have the slightest doubt that the dazzling achievements of Physics and Chemistry have been pressed into the exclusive service of "Capital." The identifying characteristic of modern science is its substitution of numerical quantities for unique qualities, thus merely recapitulating, in the cognitive form, the fundamental law that the will must control everything, even that which resides in the brightly-colored domain of the soul and its values: the values of blood, beauty, dignity, ardor, grace, warmth, and the maternal sense; these must yield to the insidious values of the power which judges the worth of a man by the weight of his gold. A new word for this viewpoint has even been coined: "Mammonism." Nevertheless, how few are conscious of the fact that this "Mammon" is a genuine, substantial entity, which seizes hold of man, and wields him as if he were a mere tool that might help Mammon eradicate the life of the earth. Let us provide here a brief word of explanation.

We have already indicated that "progress," "civilization," and "capitalism" constitute different manifestations of the same direction of the will. We must likewise admit that the disciples of this will-centered world-view are drawn exclusively from the Christian world. Only within that world were the inventions accumulated; only within that world was that quantifying, "exact" scientific methodology brought to perfection; and, finally, only within that world, that Christian world which is perpetually engaged in the most ruthless imperialism imaginable, could one find those men who have sought to conquer all of the non-Christian races, just as they have sought to conquer the whole of nature. Consequently, we are compelled to locate the proximate causes of world-historical "progress" in Christianity itself. On the surface, of course, Christianity seems always to be preaching sermons in praise of "love," but when we take a closer look at this "love," we discover that in reality this persuasive word functions as a gilded surface which masks the underlying reality of a categorical command: "You must"; and this unconditional command applies solely to man, who has now come to consider himself as divine, as a god standing in opposition to the whole of nature. Christianity may mouth such phrases as "the welfare of mankind," or "humanity," but what the voice inside these formulas is really saying is that no other living being has the slightest intrinsic value or purpose, except in so far as it can be forced to serve the purposes of man. From time immemorial, the "love" of the Christian has never prevented him from persecuting religious pagans with a murderous hatred; and this same "love" doesn’t prevent him even now from abolishing the sacred rituals of conquered tribal cultures. It is a well-known fact that Buddhism proscribes the killing of animals, because the Buddhist recognizes the obvious fact that each and every earthly creature shares a common nature with man himself. But when one objects to the Italian’s murdering of an animal, he will immediately respond by assuring you that the creature "has no soul," and "is not a Christian." This indicates clearly that, for the devout Christian, only man has a right to live. To the people of the ancient world, religion, which at one time also proceeded according to this pattern that even now springs up in hovels of the people, restrains its standard bearer, and yet it excites him on the other hand, and permits the power of one who threaten the peace of the world to prosper until it has become the terrifying megalomania that considers the bloodiest offenses against life to be permitted, and even commanded, provided such deeds result in "benefits" to humanity. Capitalism, along with its pathfinder, science, is in point of fact the fulfillment of Christianity; the church, like science, constitutes a consortium of special interests; and the "one" that is addressed by a secularized morality is indistinguishable from the life-hostile "ego," which, in the name of the unique godhead of the spirit—only now coupled with a blind cosmology--accounts for the war that has been waged against the innumerable, "many" gods of the world; earlier ages were at least more honest in their opposition to the cosmic deities, for they frankly approached the fray in the menacing aspect of judges…

By now it should be perfectly clear, however, that he who seeks to enrich himself--whilst he stomps earth's blossoms into dust--is man as the bearer of calculating reason and the will-to-acquisition. The gods whom he has torn from the tree of the life are the perpetually changing images of the phenomenal world, from which he has exiled himself. The hostility to images, which was inwardly nurtured by the self-lacerating Middle Ages, had to emerge into the light of day, as soon as it had achieved its goal, which was to sever the bond connecting man to the soul of the earth. In man's bloody atrocities against his fellow creatures, he could only complete that which he himself had already begun: to exchange the multiform patterns of living images for the homeless transcendence of the world-alienated spirit. He has shown enmity to the planet that bore and nursed him, and even to the revolutions of the starry heavens, because he is now possessed by a power that resembles a vampire, which introduces into the "music of the spheres" sounds of an ear-shattering dissonance. At this point it is clear, however, that in the course of this very ancient evolutionary process, Christianity signifies but one epoch; from distant beginnings, this process has now reached its final stage. Certainly, the unique physiognomy of Europe was decisively shaped by this process.

In fact, the force that provokes man’s enmity against the world is precisely as old as—"world history"! The "history" that is surnamed the evolutionary process-- which in the course of events marches beyond, and ever onwards, and can not be compared to the destiny of other organisms—begins at the very moment of man’s expulsion from "paradise," when he finds himself on the outside, seeing now with the cold, clear gaze of the stranger, and knowing that he has lost his previous accord with plants and animals, with oceans and clouds, with rocks, winds, and stars. In the myths of almost every people we encounter bloody battles in pre-historic ages between solar heroes who are bent upon installing a new order and the "chthonic" powers of fate, who are finally banished into a lightless underworld. Nevertheless, a Jesuit scholar, in an astonishing, but instructive, reversal of circumstances, has discovered in the legend of the acts of the Greek Herakles a prophetic "plagiarism" of the life of the Christian redeemer! That above-mentioned reorganization, with which history begins, is always and everywhere the same: over the soul rises the spirit, over the dream reigns a wide-awake rationality, over life, which becomes and passes, there stands purposeful activity. During the millennial development of spirit, Christianity was only the final, crucial thrust. Therefore spirit, which emerged from a condition of powerless knowledge--Prometheus is in chains, while Herakles is free!--now penetrates the will, and in murderous deeds, which have constituted, without interruption, the history of nations ever since, has revealed a truth that had heretofore seemed to be merely a notion: that a power from outside our cosmos had broken into the sphere of life.

For that reason, our dearest desire is simply for everyone to open his eyes. Further, we should desist from all attempts to blend together things that are sundered by the profound abyss that separates the powers of love and the soul on one side, from the powers of reason and will on the other. We must perceive that the very essence of the will is manifest in its compulsion to tear the "veil of Maya" to tatters; for when man has been reduced to the status of a mere creature of will, he must, in a blind rage, set his hand against his own mother, the earth. In the end, all of life, along with man himself, will be swallowed up by nothingness.

No teaching can return us to that which has once been lost. Regarding all such attempts, we feel that man simply does not have the ability to bring about a transformation of his inner life on his own. We stated earlier that the ancients never presumed to unravel nature's secrets by means of experiments, and never thought to conquer her through the use of machines, which they dismissed as clever contraptions that were suitable only for slaves; we now insist, moreover, that they abhorred such attempts as ungodliness. Forest and spring, boulder and grotto were for them filled with sacred life; from the summits of their lofty mountains blew the storm-winds of the gods (it was not from lack of a "feeling for nature" that one did not climb their peaks!), and tempest and hailstones threatened or clashed furiously in the play of battle. When the Greeks desired to construct a bridge across a stream, they begged the river deity to pardon this deed of man for which they atoned by offering up to him a sacrificial libation of wine. In ancient German lands, an offense against a living tree was expiated by the shedding of the offender's blood. Today's mankind sees only childish superstition in those who attend to the planetary currents. He forgets that the interpreting of apparitions was a way of scattering blooms around the tree of an inner life, which shelters a deeper knowledge than all of science: the knowledge of the world-weaving power of all-embracing love. Only when this love has been renewed in mankind will the wounds inflicted by the matricidal spirit be healed.

It was a mere hundred years ago that something truly new welled up within the hearts of men, as if from out of the depths of mysterious springs: we are alluding to those unforgettable dreamers, those child-like sages and poets, whom we conventionally call the "Romantics." Their expectations were illusory and their storm has subsided; their wisdom has been buried, the flood has receded, and the "desert grows." Nevertheless, we are prepared, like the Romantics, to believe in miracles, and we are quite willing to deem it possible that a coming generation may indeed see the birth of a new world. Perhaps the visionary words of Eichendorff in "Foreboding and the Present" best describe the labor pains that must precede the birth of that world: "Our age seems to me to resemble an ever-expanding, uncertain twilight. Light and shadow battle still, powerful forces that appear to be inseparable; storm-clouds brew dark destinies, and no one can tell whether their portents indicate death or benediction; and the wider world below remains abandoned to its hollow expectations. Comets and celestial messages haunt the heavens once more, phantom spirits wander through the night, and mythical sirens plummet into the sea as if they fled in dread of some approaching tempest that has already obscured the mirror-surface of the waters; they sing, gesticulating with bloody fingers, warning us of some terrible, impending doom. No carefree childhood game or frolic can delight our young people as much as those sessions of long ago, during which our forefathers prepared us for the serious side of life. We are born in battle, and, regardless of whether we are victor or vanquished, we will perish in battle. For, from out of the magical mists of our schooldays, there takes shape the Ghost-of-War, clad in armor, with the pallid face of death, and with blood-spattered hair; his eyes are well-accustomed to solitude, and they already perceive, through the webs of smoke that swirl all around, the almost imperceptible outlines of the coming struggle. Woe to those who, when the hour of battle strikes, find themselves unarmed and utterly unprepared for combat! How many weak men, who fritter away their idle hours in the pursuit of pleasure and in frivolous reflections, who manage to deceive themselves as readily as they deceive the world, will recall the words of Prince Hamlet: ‘The time is out of joint; O cursed spite/That ever I was born to set it right!’ "Then, out of the collapse of the world, will emerge once more an unprecedented contest between the old and the new, and the passions of today that slink about in disguise, will find that their masks are now disparaged. A burning frenzy will burst with flaming torch held high into the pandemonium, as if the inferno itself had been loosed upon the world. Justice and injustice will seem to have merged their natures in a blind access of rage. But miracles will at last take place, and the just will receive their just rewards; and a new, yet somehow very ancient, sun will radiate its light through the scenes of horror. The thunder will still roll, but only upon the peaks of distant mountains; and then the white dove will soar aloft in the clear blue skies; and the earth itself will shine with a brighter light from the heavens above."
  522. Soul and Spirit. Let us imagine that somebody is contemplating a gleaming jewel (for example, in a shop window), and is held fast in the contemplation. Let there be present in him at first only the feeling of himself and the Image of the jewel. And now let there happen what in full strength is granted only to few, although its rudiments, if the object be suitably chosen (for example, the sight of the setting sun or the form of the beloved) are, after all, known to everybody: the contemplating subject is "absorbed" in the contemplated object. Then consciousness has become a mirror, empty except for the blaze of the jewel, and the feeling of ego is extinguished before the supreme power of the image. A man who has become pure contemplation knows of no "existence," and "has forgotten" himself, and nevertheless exists in a state of ardor compared with which the loftiest content of thought grows pale. He is freed from the trammels of solitary existence and becomes the reflected content, and through it becomes that of which it is "in itself" not part, but the vision and the symbol—the world, "infinity," and "universe."

For reasons which cannot here be discussed in detail such states have been experienced with intoxicating fervor only by the Classical Age. Such states were then, as they still are with certain races which remain in a state of nature, the zone which gave birth to holy mysteries, which the dense shade of horrific myths hid from the eye of the uninitiated. Since the time of Nietzsche our knowledge of these matters is chiefly connected with the name of the Thraco-Grecian god Dionysus, who, in truth, was only one manifestation of this universal elementary power, with certain peculiarities of partly barbarian and partly Hellenic derivation. Our views of the psychical conditions of his "epiphany" are confirmed by the fact that the mystic took the perfected degree to be not an "exaltation" or "purification" of the soul, but simply an "ecstasy," to be taken literally as the state of "being beside himself," and that he prepared for it by a profound excitement of the senses, whose deadly excess was softened only by the "rage" of orgiastic dances. But, as being beside himself, the person who has been dissociated from himself has become "enthousiasmos," that is, ‘filled by the god’ or ‘possessed’. He sees no longer with the eyes of common day, bounded by space, but is beyond every barrier, even that of time; words which he utters have prophetic meaning, and his power is capable of the achievement of magical effect at a distance. And when enthusiasm fertilizes knowledge, then, according to the belief of every age and race, there arises "revelation," "illumination," "enlightenment," "inspiration"....

The man who is wholly resolved in the contemplation of the jewel bears the world within himself; therefore, he can possess neither striving nor feeling. The ruling state of profoundest fullness or highest exaltation is distinguished from feeling (however intense) by the satiety due to the state of being at one—the perfected presentation of moving or quiescent entity. He would be no man and no person, but what the ancients called a Daemon, if he could remain in that flux of ecstasy. But we assume that this is impossible; the man who a moment ago was "far away" is awakened, for example, by some impact on his body, and must "come back" to himself; and now, being cut off from himself, he sees, reduced to the dimension of an object, that in which he recently embraced the world. Now there has been forged between him and the object the link of a striving which aims at the possession of the object as a source of potential happiness. Such a desire would include the complementary feeling of reluctance against any impediment to its satisfaction.

The outline of the origin of feelings which has here been developed would be misunderstood if it were assumed that so commonplace a matter as the multiplicity of feelings and emotions is based upon the extremely rare and exceptional state of ecstasy. We gave the direction of an inner process by placing before it a possible goal at which it aims even when it has not the means of reaching it. In the striving of will, the ego experiences its own activity; and, in the striving of feelings, it succumbs to the attraction of the world-content which is turned against them; and if the former, with relation to the ego, is the urge after its preservation, then the latter, seen from the same standpoint, represents the urge towards a weakening and dissolution of the ego, and towards a surrender to the allurement of the image...The power of the innermost of all feelings, of love, to free from self, has been felt and described in words full of illumination by the poetry and wisdom of all time; whereas philosophy (at least in the West, and apart from certain thinkers of the Romantic period) almost always misunderstood it. Accustomed to consider the action of reason as the prototype of every event, philosophers were inclined to subordinate feeling, with the rest, to the effects of spirit, and have left to modern science, if nothing better, at any rate, the incapacity to imagine the might, fullness, and power of the inner life otherwise than as a corresponding vehemence of self-assertion (whether egoistic or altruistic), in spite of the fact that language itself assigns a passive part to the ego in every violent mental affection, as in "pathos," or "passion." Modern thought, under the influence of a traditional inversion, has become blind to the entire sphere of self-sacrifice, and for the "conception" which can be undergone in that sphere alone; such thought seeks to raise yet higher the true "works" of an inspired artist or poet if it calls them "deeds," and by the absurdity of its interpretation degrades the most splendid of all the marvels of the past: the tragic and the heroic....

In principle every striving, like a straight line, may have a beginning, course, and necessary end, and, consequently, cannot last as striving: and this is especially true of sensitive striving. In volition, the ego tends straight to the final point, the act, but in feeling, while the ego tends, there is also something which exerts a tendency against the ego, and therefore feeling, which rests upon polarity, is extinguished in a twofold manner: both the ego, and the content which is directed against it, are deprived of their force. The former happens in the process of getting beside oneself, the latter in the act of will. The feeling does not perish; rather, it oscillates between two ends, the It and the act, and whatever its nature may be otherwise, it is a state of inner conflict, which, if protracted, would prove destructive; which perhaps explains why the exalted feelings of love, admiration, and adoration are never without a note of profound woe, and why the ethical desideratum of artificial equanimity (the ataraxia of the Ancients) does not owe its existence to the tutor reason alone.... 

It will be seen that our view leads to the necessary assumption that the nature of man has two substrata, one of which is active in the urge to exist, and the other in the urge to sacrifice existence. The exposition of the system of driving forces is facilitated if we give a name to both, which, after what has already been said, can be done without too rash an excursion into the province of metaphysics. The principle of ego, as is testified by the oldest human philosophies, lives in the spirit, which is opposed (in popular language) by the "world." This principle was celebrated in the Apollo-worship of the Greeks in its praise of "moderation" and "know thyself" (the inner meaning of which is know the self); the famous Judaeo-Christian demand for love of one’s neighbor realizes it; and the systems of almost all philosophers confess it with a monumental one-sidedness when they comprehend the prime cause of the world-content, under however diverse forms, by analogy of the ego—as ultimate ego, unmoved mover, will, absolute, God, etc...The "world," on the other hand, is not, as the philosophers falsely taught, a by-product and creature of the spirit, although it is produced by spirit, in so far as the latter molded it so that, from being an incomprehensible elementary world of experience, it becomes a world of objects comprehensible in principle...

For the man of today the world agrees so perfectly with the actuality with which he is familiar that he cannot immediately understand why there was an original abyss between the original world and spirit. But we need only turn to an age which, unlike ours, pursued no utilitarian course, but a truly spiritual direction, in order to discover how profoundly it is in conflict with the world of the senses. Charitable gifts and long-suffering were not the supreme commandments of the Church Militant of the Middle Ages; the true demands were: a denial of the world, and a contempt of Eros. It took the colored twilight of "worldliness" with its heathen idolatry, which even now has not been wholly eradicated, for a far worse temptation of the devil than selfishness, which became a moral stigma much later. "Cursed be all makers of images" is an anathema of the Church Fathers (or, in Tauler’s words, "Man must hide from all images and forms"); and the "Bride of Heaven" renounced not only sex in her oath of chastity, but also condemned as sinful pleasure what, for the Ancients, had a sacred dignity—bodily perfection. Her God, by the witness of those who proclaim him, is spirit, and the kingdom of the spirit was "not of this world."

At the same time an appeal might be made to the arts, and especially to architecture, to the colored glow of Gothic, and to the orgy of hues in books, robes, and public festivals of this particular period on the one hand, and, on the other, to the visionary states of so many ascetics, to the unio mystica and its symbol, the eucharist: and in the end we might see in the Middle Ages the brightest flower so far known of the ecstatic capacity of man. In face of such a view it would take us far beyond our limit if we were here to undertake the proof that the sensuous aspect of these and similar phenomena, although certainly it is part of the history of Christianity, still in fact denotes a dissolution, the reluctant fall, and the death-struggle of heathendom whose afterglow mingles its fires with the cold clarity of a spiritual beyond. We will consider only the alleged ecstasy of anchorites and saints in a few words.

Completely ignorant of the existence of two substances which are opposite and incompatible, certain essays in the description of ecstatic phenomena, partly of occultist tenor and partly psychological, confound these uncritically with the "convulsions" and "visions" of hermits; and in doing so they remain behind ascertainable knowledge in a remarkable manner—by more than a thousand years. Augustine knew, and Benedict XIV finally applied, fixed rules to the distinction between the elementary intoxication (which, according to our explanation, alone deserves the name of ecstasy) and the spiritual so-called ecstasy, which alone, according to the perfectly appropriate views of the Church, gives proof of sanctity, whereas the other (and genuine) ecstasy is interpreted as a kind of vulgar possession, secular at least, but very often diabolical (important documents will be found in vol. ii of the Christliche Mystik of Goerres; Goerres, for his part, calls the elementary ecstasy the "magic," and the spiritual the "mystic," and quotes as distinctly characteristic of the former its periodicity, which corresponds to the cycles of nature). But in order to understand why the unio mystica could ever be taken for a kind of ecstasy, we must remember what is explained more fully below, that spirit is not identical with the personal ego: whence, in proportion as the latter is bound in it, there does take place a rejection of all personal interests, as is demanded by the well-known rule of "Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience." The Pater Ecstaticus enjoys a closer proximity to God but, unlike the Dionysian mystic, he has not become God; he is freed from his person, but he is bound all the more tightly to the spirit; and, on the other hand, he is not one with the content of the world, but is severed from it all the more sharply, or raised above it in the mirror of his own experience (a process which is made objective, for example, in the overcoming of gravity by so-called levitation). And, equally, the absolute ego or, more correctly, the spirit, or even God (as is attempted by the feeble compromise of pantheism, rightly condemned by the Church) never becomes one with the world: for ego is only an alternative term for the consciousness of distinction, and the expression ‘world-spirit’ hides a contradiction.

We will return from these rather far-reaching explanations to closer and more familiar facts by pointing out that the contrast which we postulate was well known to Classical as well as to Romantic thought in the shape of the distinction between spirit and soul. For the former represents only the absolute ego, the latter only the element of life, so that it must be imagined as having universal extension. There is no contrast between the soul and the body: rather the soul is the inner life that is one with and inseparable from the body; and therefore it changes, ever flows and never stays, like the becoming and perishing of living creatures; compared already by the ancients to the incessant waning and waxing of the moon, and hence ‘sublunary’, and strictly banished by the founders of Christianity from the sphere of spirit with the counter-threat of the fiction of the "Kingdom of the Heavens." Side by side (because fundamentally identical) with the antithesis of permanence and change, there stands that of absolute activity and extreme passivity. Action belongs to the spirit alone, it "masters," "rules," and "overcomes," while the soul suffers and undergoes. Action has a kinship with the arrow and the beam, and so the free God Apollo is at the same time God of light; while, according to German usage, the spirit alone appears as "wide-awake" or, on the other hand, as "benighted"; while combinations like "sorrow," "grief," and ‘torment of the soul’ bear witness to the passion (lower in the human scale) of the soul. The analogy of gender, too, between spirit and man, and soul and woman, has a deep foundation, which can be traced all the way back to the Greeks (viz., the distinction between Greek text).

Now according to such a view each personality in its decisive kernel is built up of two substances, and the different species of character can all be traced back to the different proportions in which spirit and soul are mixed. The former supports the urge to self-preservation, whose effects are the apprehension of things and the will; the latter supports the impulse to devotion—the desire to supplant self and to ebb away in contemplation. Soul without spirit may be experienced, it may pulse rhythmically in the atmospheric "elements," and it may even preponderate in the animal world. Spirit without soul, on the other hand, can neither be thought of nor imagined, it is acosmic and lies outside consciousness, and is revealed only by its influence (which, in fact, however, is incessant) upon the elements in ourselves, which, under its ray, are frozen and shattered. It is "absolute" or "ex-centric" externality, while soul is a natural interiority: and the latter is akin to darkness and night, as the former is to clarity that knows no twilight. Their struggle in the neutral ground of personality gives birth to specifically human consciousness with its characteristic symptom of a feeling of self. The philosophy of the Romantic Period called it "day-consciousness," and its opposite "night-consciousness"; in man only exceptional states are symptomatic of it, but in animals, whole groups of symptoms, like a mysterious sense of locality, a magical power of scent, and seemingly supernatural instincts of care for the young....

Spirit and element (or, spirit and life, or, spirit and soul) are by natural law antagonistic to each other; hence the former may wish to ‘free’ itself from the latter and shake it off completely, in which case the final goal of its endeavor would lie outside the world or supra naturam, the personal form of which is the spiritual character (in the narrowest sense)—which in the form of flagellant monks gives its peculiar mark to the Middle Ages and, in the shape of esoteric self-scrutiny, to Buddhism. It has lost its importance in modern mankind, and we do not here discuss it. This is also true of the opposite mixture—of the element, which not only offers a lively struggle, but also breaks the spirit in ecstasy: an example (which has become unfamiliar) of this we find only among peoples in a "state of nature"; and a crystallization of this notion (which has been universally misunderstood) in such mysticism as deserves the name. In these two composite forms the struggling substances tend apart, and the result is, consequently, not so much a wealth of varieties of personality as of suspension of personality. In spite of the complete difference in their respective governing substances, both spiritual and elementary eras show a certain scarcity in strongly marked personalities, and in feelings of personality, and a preponderance of universal and, as it were, catholic ends of life which resemble one another in their tendency to break through the barriers of isolated existence. On the spiritual side this is arrived at by ascetic practices, by self-conquest, and even by self-mutilation, and, generally, by a disciplined renunciation of an independent will. Certain Tibetan monastic organizations of the present day closely resemble in these respects the practices of mediaeval Christianity. On the elemental or vital side this end is reached by a stimulation to intoxication, which likewise admits a peculiar technique and prefers to act through the means of crowds in a state of festive emotion—as, for example, in the orgiastic cults of the Ancients, especially that of Dionysus. And both these tendencies meet even today in the cult-practices of Islamic Dervishes.

On the other hand, an infinite multiplicity of character unfolds itself when we pass from the separate existence of substances to their co-existence. Spirit may turn to the element, and the element to spirit: each with a deep indwelling need to imitate the opponent, which leads to processes of indefinite length in a twofold direction. For, while neither is submerged in the other, spirit either forms a layer over element (or conversely), and this with greatly varying completeness—at the same time surrendering a considerable part of its peculiar nature. Spirit seeks to tie down the stream of happening into the unity of ego, and to dictate its "law" to the content of the world, and thus become "reason"—that is, the vehicle of logic which atomizes and conquers one part after the other, and yet can never read a riddle. The preponderance of the arithmetical intellect (which occurs in varying degrees) is the foundation of the third variety of character-types, which naturally has numerous subordinate forms. By its side there is the fourth and last variety in the shape of the enthusiastic character in which the element charms the spirit through the image and seeks to dissolve it in the image, and in exchange, for its part, assumes the form of feeling which (but for different reasons) can reach the goal no more than can the impulse of cognition.

The two genera are rich in variants and spread simultaneously with only a slight displacement of the accent; they characterize the personal subdivisions of history, like the later age of Greece, the Renaissance, and the second half of the eighteenth century, and, without exception, they contain all that is greatest in historical mankind…We must also admit that the relation between these substances is not necessarily one of antagonism, but may sometimes be a less painful co-existence. (SW 4 pp. 364-72)
  SELECTED POETRY

IN THE DISTANT WEST

The sun descends the western skies.

It flames and flares far in the west,

And heaven, in that far-flung west,

Gleams clear and bright as crystal.

Blue, so blue, the deepest distance

Now intoxicates my senses,

Till my soul is trembling, reeling,

Sundered by a sudden yearning.

Beams of light assail my eyes:

They press against the moistened lashes,

Forcing out, with sudden instancy,

One unaccustomed tear.

THE HERD

O muffled echo of the bells. A shepherd

Leads his flock from off the hill.

Uncanny: from behind the woods, the west’ring sun

Shoots spears of flame through seas of mist.

Soon awkward gloaming abdicates,

And wilder weather takes the skies.

But where is now the flock, and where its shepherd?

Then—the rage of thunder in the night.

 

RUNES

We’ve not the slightest yearning for the social world:

The storms and omens of the Cosmos will suffice.

REVERBERATION

Evening’s chill blows softly from the hills;

The sun declines towards the tree-tops.

From the shadowed valleys all sounds perish.

Bitter yearning! Giant clouds glide down the sky,

As night, in mourning garb, enshrouds a deeper sorrow

Under ebon wings.

 

THE STREAM

Into the silence of the night,

There breaks the rushing, splashing stream;

Upon the purling waters

Breezes gently blow

And silver moonbeams dance.

Now wind-bowed poplars

Brew a sleepy potion in the depths.

Throughout the trees roar stabbing winds,

Until the swirling burden of the fallen leaves

At last can still the raging waters.

 

RUNES OF DARKNESS

Massive and oppressive dome of heaven—

Timid glimmer from the cloudy vault—

O dark, close-woven web of night…

The deep-resounding clangor of the bells—

There lingers now in evening’s red,

And on the lofty battlements, a final gleam…

A groan emerges from the darkling woods.

The fog is near—the world is far.

 

THE EVENING OF LIFE

The evening of my life is fading fast,

And on the long, dour street are cast—

In yellow gleam of candelabra—

Shapes long lost in time.

The melancholy and the misery of things…

 

SONG

And if it really was a dream,

Why should one suffer so?

As storm-winds roared,

The welkin raged

From sea to sea to sea;

And all the while 

The evening sun shed

Wretched rags of light.

We die, and are forgotten,

Even by the grandsons

Strolling on our graves.

And if it really was a dream,

Why should one suffer so?

The storms are roaring,

And above the lands

The gloomy clouds sail on.

Whole nations die, and are forgotten,

And above the wreckage

Time prepares the entry

Of the coming generation.

And if it really was a dream,

Why should one suffer so?

The storm-wind screams,

The welkin shrieks;

The very stars will die

And be forgotten.

Still, there’ll always be

Some novel bloom, which,

Nourished by the dust of the deceased,

Will one day wander far

On bright, celestial paths.

 

 

WINDY FIELD

A damned soul, stripped by death, adorns

The ravaged field; tormented grasses moan.

The atmosphere soon fades to black,

As storm-winds wail in devastated forests.

Eyes stare, almost blinded, through the raging floods.

The night is raucous in its clamor.

Night looms high above your pallid captain—

Viking long-boats sail into the Nordic distance.

 

MELANCHOLY MORNING

It is a colder, sadder morning;

Brazen clouds hang high up in the heavens;

There they want to stay. No rain is falling;

Not a breeze disturbs the rigid hedge-rows.

Morbid thoughts upon awakening…

As memories assume command,

The soul grows pale, its contours quake,

As if beneath a mountain made of steel and ice.

O night, break through! O sleep, descend!

Drown knowledge in a blacker flood!

From dream-tormented torture chambers,

Rouse yourself and radiate your eerie light.

 

EVENING

At last the raging forces tremble;

Growing weary, soon they’ll slumber.

Storm-winds fade, and everywhere

Is night, so black, so cold.

The darkly massive clouds are surging,

Sleeping through the humid night.

Now here, now there, on heaven’s dome

A gentle star turns on its lamp.

Like buried slag aglow once more

When stirred to life by vagrant gusts,

My deep regrets take hold of me

When distant clocks toll out the hours.

Be still, my heart! Breathe easily;

The feeble clangor has been stilled,

And stars are shining silently

Above the quiet woods. 

 

THE CANDLES FLICKER

The candles flicker. Midnight bellows

From the tower. As the storm

Goes rooting through the night,

It roars with laughter.

Tremble—you are but an atom

Shot into the raging flux,

Wherein the ages whirl and toss

Forever.

 

PHILOSOPHY

Of what avail is all philosophy?

We’ll never solve the riddle of existence.

In the end, look where you will, our thought

Is nothing but a game we play with words.

 

LIFE

Hectic movement, harried haste—

No time to pause, no chance to rest—

A warm embrace, a fervent kiss—

And then divorce and flight afar—

Divorce, detest, and reconcile—

And then split up again—

That’s life! Yes, that is life.

It babbles in the rains; it riots in the clouds;

It flutters in the leaves, and sighs in winds of storm—

And all will be, is now, or was—

And all once was and will return—

As, without cease, life spins its whirling fabric

Through eternal aeons.

Gone forever—like the waves upon the shoreline—

Gone forever! Gone, but whence? And whither?

Life knows not the waves; it only knows the sea.

Life only knows the sea and will remain eternal and complete.

And yet it is the sun-glossed waves that murmur

As they storm the sandy shore.

 

EVENING SONG

Into the west, the distant west!

For that is where I long to be;

And if the clouds above were little skiffs,

They would descend and bear me off

On wondrous paths, towards

The purple-glowing sun

Within the distant west!

Is there a land, is there a life,

Where magic, flaming colors

Spark such scintillant reflections

On the gleaming waters?

Do you know? And nor do I!

Could earth afford a rapture more profound

Than that which floods the heart

When our world sinks and dives

Into those flaming, sparkling seas?

Into the west, the distant west!

I must go forth, I must depart!

The sun is sinking, now it’s gone.

My eyes but stare forlorn

Towards the fiery seas.

My yearning swells, I breathe so deeply 

As the darkness grows apace.

But solar splendor still irradiates

The distant cloud-bank:

Westward ho!

 

AWAKEN

You awaken still within me,

Boundless cosmic soul!

And yet you hesitate, at first,

To loose me from the murk

Of mortal slumbers:

Then I am dissolved into

A million shining atoms;

Now the dull gray spider

Of deceit o’er-shadows all!

And still you would alert me,

For the onset of my madness is at hand.

I’m helpless, 

For the demon ego

Locks me in the dungeon

Of the day’s dim dream.

O sorrow, sorrow! Into lightless depths

You tumble downwards, cosmic soul!

The shadow of the ego thrashes wildly,

As it bursts forth from Lethean waters.

Hearken to the rush and roar!

The lying mask of life 

Erupts into the holy darkness,

And the feeble rays of dawn are weaving now

Deceiving webs of being!

Now my ear can tell the sighing

Of the cold winds through the tree-tops

From the crowing of the cock.

O cosmic soul, you plunge me

Into fatal slumbers, whirling me about

Within the frenzied waves.

Once more, I am condemned

To think the mad thought of existence,

Whilst I struggle like some banished being

In the storm-erected tidal waves

Of ancient strife.

 

YULETIDE

Wilding winds groan loudly through the leafless boughs,

As storm-clouds fill the gloomy hours.

The weary day is drowsy as it sips

From misty goblets sweet forgetfulness.

The nature of the savior is forgotten,

So prepotent is that potion;

And the cold seems to have yielded 

To a reverie of sweetly-scented, rose-rich lands,

Where one delights to see the torches kindled,

There one still can feel secure at heart—

There spirit has no strength to bind one’s wings,

And storms are impotent to halt one’s flight.

All’s well! Unleash that flood of light,

Which wells forth like an indolent typhoon.

For he who feels this incandescent glow of life within,

Has naught to fear from phantoms born of madness.

 

BIRTH

O gloomy night—

O night high-vaulted—

What uproots these winter-knotted trees?

Through heaven’s cove

The predator is on the spoor,

And foam flies from the neighing chargers.

Gaping night—

Bright-glowing night—

A dazzling gleam lights up black hilltops.

Flickering and twisting—

Coldly sparkling—

Stars are shattered in a night of storm.

And time is rolling onwards,

Rumbling, roaring—

Hurricanes assail high crag and sodden woodland.

Cautious cries creep forth

From smoky trees,

And then drift to the heights

Where eagles sit on brood. 

 

LULLABY

Listen to the splashing rain

That purls and pours upon the roof.

O sleep, beloved child of mine,

Though howling storms sweep high

Above our twilit homeland.

Listen as the clock ticks out

The minutes and the seconds—

As the night is fading fast away

And dawn’s light adumbrates the day,

So too do you approach a life of sorrow now

With every step that you will take.

Yet sleep awhile, sleep long, beloved child.

Are you asleep, O heart of mine?

Or do you listen to the pouring, purling rain?

Attend to these great storm-winds whistling 

All around our safe and solid home.

You do not know that all these tears of heaven

Signify but care and sorrow, 

For with moaning and with lamentation

All the seconds of your life will throb:

Their shafts are aimed right at your heart,

To spill your scarlet blood in endless streams.

O hearken! Through the roaring storm

The watchman on the tower blows the warning blast.

How swiftly midnight comes to call.

But sleep, my little one: your mother shall stand guard!

 

THE MAN AND HIS GOD

Into uncanny loneliness

We’re one and all expelled

From nowhere.

Yet within each mortal

Dwells his god.

The world must always master man:

But help me conquer loneliness!

That’s all I ask of you, of you my god!

 

REMEMBRANCE, DARKLING 

In my darkest depths, the atom clouds

Recall a dreamily unconscious era,

When they rested in the hearts

Of flowers of the fields.

They yearn for swift release 

Into the stream of life,

Once more to flood the world with sweet aromas—

Where they might ban utterly 

All fraudulent display,

Companioned by most secret consubstantial powers,

Scattering their congregated throng unto 

The infinite celestial vault.

And that which, deep within me,

Yet participates in waves ethereal

Hath intermingled with the heaven’s blue.

The earthly portion yet residing in my frame,

Is incarnated as a clotted mist 

That blots all distance out;

And what has most intensely pulsed

And throbbed within me

Shrieks and hisses like great leaping flares

Upon the surface of the sun.

 

THE CLUTCHING TALONS

When I recall you, silent nature,

Deep within me magic pictures coalesce;

And that which rules me from without,

The merely melancholy satisfaction of my longing,

Lures me on to follow to the end

The dark, enduring traces of a world

That fades to nothingness whilst yet I gaze.

But is it just my own desire

That splits my heart in twain?

Two stressors drive the creature netherwards:

The one will drag him down

Into a boundless waste of dust;

The other rolls and tumbles him unto the void.

And carnal pleasure—as it will be, not as it is now!—

Disintegrates the creature’s form.

Yet that which liberates, evokes no will in him

To brave the raging of the storms.

Instead, the creature merely craves

The clutching talons that imprison him.

 

 

MAN AND DOG AND BIRD

The rabid mongrel rotates in tight circles,

Straining to devour the raven.

Yet the cur achieves no purchase on the wings,

And all that’s left him is a hollow boast.

The clumsy wretch is waterlogged without 

And hot with rage within:

Since he himself can’t fly at all,

His envy roasts his soul alive.

We humans also saw the bird,

Although we did not crave its wings.

We know: whatever soars so high above

Must ultimately crash into the dust.

The art of flight has also left us listless;

But the thought of our mortality 

Comes in a blinding flash

As buckshot blasts the bird apart.

 

 

THE GENIUS

Danger lurks within the surges 

That divide him from the island of the yet unborn,

Till breakers toss him down upon

The ragged coastline of a storm-tossed realm.

The lamentation of the waves

Dissolves into the powdered stones.

Alone with his great love,

Not knowing his true name or nature,

He must prowl dark roads;

Must gaze upon bright-burning deserts

And at shadow-shedding welkin high above;

Must stand amid the strafing whirlwind

Whilst his love is stunned, 

Constrained by outer darkness,

And his life’s own inner fire incinerates 

The noontide of his days.

But where his flawless flame extends,

All distances are glossed with gold;

And every dull gray land of storm

Is soon made lustrous at the sound

Of his tormented song.
Consciousness and Life. The word "consciousness" is customarily understood as having a double-meaning: (a) the substance, or content, of experience; and (b) the critical empiricism which observes that experience. In experience, we occupy a station within consciousness, whereas during the process of empirical apprehension, we stand outside experience. The first state possesses actuality for itself (fürsich), whilst the second state can be said to approach actuality only insofar as it remains connected to the first. Life has no need for the process of comprehension in order to exist, although spiritual comprehension does require the presence of a living "event" (Geschehen) in order to commence its operations. Bearing these reflections in mind, it is of fundamental importance for the theory of consciousness that we indicate precisely which of the dual meanings is under examination. Ordinarily the word seems to suggest—for instance, as it is employed in the substantival infinitive of the declaration: "I am conscious of myself" (as of an object)—that it actually refers not to an object, but, rather, to an observation, and it certainly piques our interest to discover that current scientific terminology, in heart-warming conformity with popular usage, has endorsed the latter interpretation exclusively. Unfortunately, this approach excluded consciousness itself from consideration so thoroughly that the whole structure of psychology almost seems to have been established upon a  [false fundamental principle], a procedure that would certainly entail ominous consequences for such derivations as had been drawn from it. But before we continue to develop our exposition, it is necessary that we now interpolate a brief digression. 

Even if consciousness should be equated with spiritual comprehension, there would still be two distinct modes of non-consciousness: utilizing the terminology of contemporary thought in the narrow sense, these modes are the unconscious and the unobserved. Several instances, among the dozens that are available for our perusal in the relevant literature, may enable the reader to appreciate certain distinctions. No one possesses an instantaneous (immediate) consciousness of everything that he has ever learned, although certain items exist "unconsciously" in a state of readiness until, in response to a suitable question, they "enter into consciousness." This provides the conclusive explanation of one of the inherently fascinating phenomena in the field of characterology, viz., our undergoing an experience that is apparently of the "unconscious" variety, only thereupon discovering that it has been, as it were, "deposited" in consciousness in a procedure analogous to a routine cash transaction at a banking institution. It is a somewhat different case when we have an instantaneous, or immediate, experience, although, paradoxically, we are unable simultaneously to observe that which we have just, in fact, experienced. Example: in reading a suspenseful novel, a person may, so to speak, "turn a deaf ear" to the clock’s striking of the hour even though the clock is in the near vicinity; with the reader’s consciousness focused so intently upon the story, he has had no time to observe that whilst he was reading this novel his feet became ice-cold. Nevertheless, he has certainly undergone both experiences. It might happen that our reader subsequently discovers that he can recall the clock’s striking of the hour. He thereby achieves some comprehension of an experience that he has hitherto attempted to explain to himself in vain. Let us glance at another paradox: the more an event moves us emotionally, the less are we competent to observe our condition as it is in itself; for one "forgets oneself," to use a profound turn of phrase, out of concern, out of dread, or out of an excess of stormy bliss. With this brief survey, we are now sufficiently prepared to ponder one more puzzle, but this time we will draw our material from the area of world-history, in order to demonstrate precisely the extent to which the concept of consciousness itself has served as the source of an endless proliferation of erroneous doctrines.

We do not err in tracing the birth of our modern intellectual tradition to the renowned formula of Descartes: cogito ergo sum. It would surely violate the intentions of its originator were we to translate this proposition as "I think, therefore I am," without certain qualifications. We have, in fact, generally understood the Cartesian cogitare to comprise not merely the act of thinking, but also such activities as perceiving, feeling, willing, and even dreaming: in brief, we have come to regard the cogitare as the equivalent of consciousness in general. Still, there can be no doubt whatever that in this regard the philosopher had in mind not only perception, representation, and emotion, but also the perceived phenomenon, the represented image, and the empirically observed emotional state. However, the thinker who has seen the decisive act of consciousness in critical comprehension, will, of course, be quite prepared to champion the proposition: "mind is thinking substance" (mens est res cogitans). But Descartes (on grounds the comprehensive exposition of which would lead us deeply into the evolution of the human spirit) stumbles badly in his treatment of this line of thought due to his inability to study these discrete entities separately; as a result, he necessarily confuses our consciousness of experience with experience itself, and Descartes has thereby allowed himself as well as all succeeding posterity to get bogged down before a Cartesian roadblock. This impediment has, in effect, barred the approaches to a fresh, sense-oriented philosophy of life ever since.

We have always considered the most startling aspect of the Cartesian formula to be the precedence that it accords to the self before the object. The philosopher discusses consciousness as if he were analyzing the content of experience, whereas what he is really doing is formulating critical judgments about experience. Thus, the faculty of judgment usurps the place of experience, and the upshot is that Descartes has effectively sacrificed the entirety of man’s inner life to mere cognition. With that superb logical consistency that was ever the hallmark of his thought, Descartes explicitly announces the inescapable consequences of his philosophical meditations: the whole world is to be reduced to the status of a nexus of quantifiable physical forces; animals are to be regarded as nothing but soulless machines; and the stirring emotions that characterize the nature of man are to be dismissed as perturbationes animi! Such frank admissions could hardly have failed to rouse the ire of a host of passionate enemies. But even the most bitter foes of the Cartesian philosophy endorsed their antagonist’s pseudo-antithesis of cogitare and esse, and once they had made this false start, they merely contested the predominance of consciousness over being in a procedure as fruitless as any counter-claim that arrogates to being the predominant rank as the foundation of consciousness. Thus the bitter strife continues to deepen between the two ancient camps of metaphysicians, i.e., the "materialists" and the "idealists," behind whose inviolable fortress-walls, one might almost persuade oneself, an evil genius of deceit plots to imprison the scientific impulse, which is, in reality, neither cogitare nor esse, neither spirit nor matter, but rather that which for beings inhabiting the temporal realm is far more important than either: life!

Whether we elect to derive matter from spirit (or spirit from matter), or whether we should in the end seek to solve this relational conundrum by regarding both entities as aspects of some primordial system of polarities, as in the procedure adopted by our current proponents of the doctrine of "psycho-physical parallelism," all of these shifts will avail us nothing if from the very outset we have eliminated from our enquiries the actuality of life. Spirit knows and being is, but only life can live! Spirit and being dwell amidst generalities in a realm beyond time, whereas life participates in the temporal dimension that is also the realm of the individual. Without life, neither spirit nor matter could enable us to understand the nature of the temporal creation that is man. Now, however, we must avert our gaze from these somewhat academic disputes, in order that we may focus our attention more closely on the question as to the nature of consciousness.

Consciousness is not the stream of experience, for consciousness as such arises only when it has been stirred to activity by the lightning bolt of comprehension. We can derive definite empirical confirmation of this proposition from an examination of the forms in which life, even in its most minuscule incarnations, achieves phenomenal expression. We now come to the world of the plant. No age and no people has ever entertained the slightest doubt as to the propriety of attributing life to the plant, and indeed, both abstract thought and primitive speculation are as one in their inclination to see in the prolific and luxuriant primeval forest a far more suggestive image of the wealth of life than either abstract or primitive thought could perceive in the restless immobility that characterizes the animal kingdom. The prehistoric world’s almost universal reverence for trees has its roots in this very soil. For all that, no one who has managed to liberate himself from the false notions that we have dismissed supra, will attribute consciousness to the plant, for he is now equipped with the gift of comprehension, regardless of whether he chooses to focus that gift upon the ray of sunlight, or upon the light of his own experience. We must now proceed to another vantage point, viz., that at which cognition and life enter into palpable association with each other. 

The structural element of both plant and animal is the cell. Life persists solely through the operations of the cellular body. However, life as such is now and forever completely excluded from the dimension of consciousness. In every one of the innumerable births and deaths endured by transient organisms, the life of the cell persists without the slightest interruption all the way back to the protoplasmic entities that flourished in the primordial terrestrial seas. In spite of the fact that our conscious memory can recollect nothing whatever of our embryonic development within the womb, the living cell silently preserves the accumulated experience of our remotest ancestors. Since the life within us at any given moment is the transitory façade atop an incessantly driving flood, which, without pause or hindrance, rushes back to the geological epoch during which such crystalline formations as the schists were deposited, we can see that the duration of consciousness, in comparison with such temporal immensities, is precisely equivalent to the minuscule life-span of an individual person. Still, could it not be the case that life and consciousness are interchangeable entities?

We do not require a second glance outside to discover a instructive analogy, for consciousness resembles nothing so much as the sheet-lightning that over and over again flashes and flames above the waters of life, and which, from time to time, ignites a tight, white circle that blazes briefly. And whilst the lightning relinquishes the distant horizon unto a darkness utterly alien to consciousness, we are liberated at last from the tedium of the quotidian round. The alleged psychology of today condescendingly dismisses the whole area of "the prophetic gift," from presentiment, dream, and instinct, all the way to telepathy, clairvoyance, and visionary somnambulism (upon all of these things the Romantics speculated quite brilliantly; these thinkers grouped such phenomena under the comprehensive heading of the "nocturnal pole" of consciousness). Our contemporary psychologists are convinced that they reject all consideration of these matters in part because of their putative associations with the "occult," and in part because of certain alleged associations with half-baked medical theories. This attitude is not merely the expression of a philosophical hollowness; such blindness can only have had its origins in an exaggeratedly intellectualistic misapprehension of life. In the first place, insight clearly indicates that it belongs to the very nature of consciousness that it subsists in a sort of subjugation to rhythmical alternations such as those that transpire between kindled blaze and dimming flame, between seizing and releasing, and between waking and sleeping. Indeed, although the life of man rushes by in an uninterrupted continuity, it too is subject to the same law, for the life of a man is fated to be but a brief moment in the rhythmical alternation between birth and death; on the other hand we do have an intimate companion by our side for one-third of every day, for even consciousness experiences exhaustion, as it were, and must participate in our nightly slumbers; it is only then that we are aware neither of the ego nor of the world outside. No more conclusive evidence could be gathered to bolster our case on behalf of the radical difference of essence that characterizes consciousness and life, for whoever lumps the two together must logically conclude that the sleeper is, in fact, dead, until he is resurrected from death in the morning light. So untenable is the familiar notion that sleep and death are bound together as if by some strange affinity, that the healing, restorative, and constitutional powers of life are never more effectively enhanced than when we resort to the simple remedy of deep sleep! This truth is clearly communicated in the images that have come down to us from the legendary lore of antiquity, for there we see characters drawing out of the dreams that came to them in the cavern of the earth-mother or in the temple of Asklepios the sigils and premonitory visions of an ecstatic life as well as the regulations governing the procedures whereby the sickly could be restored to a healthy life. We all recognize these truths, even if many of us today seem to have forgotten their significance amidst the turmoil and banality of day-to-day considerations. Any man, no matter how consistently sober in demeanor he may appear to be, can certainly recall a moment during his youthful years when he awoke from slumber, feeling as if his soul had slyly slipped out of the protective maternal arms only to find itself exposed to the harsh glare of an inexorable light. He may well recall a mysterious emotion that grew within him, until he was overwhelmed by a feeling of homesickness on the part of the soul for its lost nocturnal life. The profound revelation that is communicated to us in the experience of such moods recalls the fairy-tales (Märchen) that tell us of a lost paradise, and of those golden and silver ages during which, to employ an expression of Hesiod, men were like children or even like plants that sprout up from the soil. Afterwards, situated somewhat as Heracles was when confronted by the choice between life and spirit, mankind chose the road of thinking and willing, and, like Heracles, man has found naught upon that road but sorrow, hardship, and frightful adventures. 

We have indicated that life and apprehension are incommensurable entities, and we have likewise grasped the distinguishing criteria of consciousness. Let us now extend the scope of our enquiry in order to determine what implications these discoveries entail for the nature of life, and what modifications might be incorporated in the natural sciences as well should it ever become feasible to replace the current mechanistic scheme with a doctrine of life. Bearing this purpose in mind, we now proceed to refute the familiar dogma that proclaims that life is merely a mechanistic process, and that the living body in particular may be accurately described as an intricate machine. 

We attempted on one occasion to transport our self completely outside the sphere of active comprehension; we therefore chose the most simple as well as the most basic procedure: perception. Now what can we grasp as being really true? Of course, someone might well venture to object that there could scarcely be a satisfactory answer to such a question. Nevertheless, it is only to the extent that something impinges upon our senses that we will we able to achieve an act of perception. Thus, there are innumerable things that are accessible to us: in space, which contains all that exists as if within a reservoir, the illimitable manifold of objects, such as stones, plants, animals, men, houses, countries, mountains, clouds, seas, constellations, and finally the similarly multiform movements of these and other things. Now it seemed to us at the time that this answer, although we had not foreseen its implications, in turn raised a problem the solution to which seemed to us to promise very interesting results. Everything, in fact, that we have enumerated, along with everything that we could ever conceivably enumerate, can be described as a thing or object. We perceive things and the processes in which they become involved, viz., rest and self-motility, arriving and departing, coming and going, in such a manner that we cannot even begin to grasp how we are able to perceive one object in still another perspective.

For those who have already familiarized themselves somewhat with the relevant questions, we would like at this point to introduce one more parenthetical observation. Ever since the time of Locke, there have been discussions from time to time regarding something called "inner" perception; it is alleged that, more or less in the manner in which we deduce information from the actions of ghostly visitants, we receive knowledge of the world by piercing through the exterior aspect in order to comprehend the inner reality of perceived objects. We are in opposition to the viewpoint of the majority of contemporary psychologists who hold that it is not through perception but through self-scrutiny that we gain our knowledge of man’s inner life. If our psychologists could only prove the proposition in question conclusively, they would once more have reinforced their doctrine that the character of actuality inheres solely in things. However, is it not the case that this theory logically entails that its adherents ignore spaces, movements, and bodies and devote their time instead to investigating spirits and their acts of judgment, opinions, and volitions? The problem involved in this situation is identical to that involved in the case of the thing, in that spirits and their acts resemble things in that all of these entities "confront" us as fixed objects that somehow manage to remain unalterably the same even under the impress of the passage of time. So much for "inner" perception!

That which holds true for perceptive apprehension, likewise governs the process of apprehension in general; it links itself to objects and to nothing else. Therefore we must insist that through mere apprehension we can never obtain the slightest understanding of life. Were we to place ourselves before a spirit that is nothing but spirit, e.g., the god about whom the Christians inform us that he is omniscient, in that this god possesses the ability to predict the entire future, we should realize that this god is, in fact, subject to one significant limitation. Although this "spirit" sees and understands "all things," he is and will remain completely ignorant of life. Now, such a spirit would indeed be able accurately to gauge the positions of bodies as well as their internal processes; he would also be endowed with the ability to penetrate with his sharp eye into the very core of such physical structures as atoms and fluids, substances whose exhaustive analysis would require centuries of diligent labor on the part of our scientists; but even when that much has been conceded, this spirit could never participate in the stormy agitation at the heart of the living substance. The hither and thither mobility of creeping, running, and flying animals would to him be utterly indistinguishable from such phenomena as the fall of the stone, the moaning of the wind, and the turbulent movements of the waves upon the ocean. To such a spirit, the structural transformations undergone by a growing plant would appear to be identical in essence to the alterations that subtly alter the contours of a gradually eroding mountain peak. Both living and non-living entities reveal to him only the existential alterations in form that occur in mechanically driven things and molecules. To be sure, other spirits might appear before his penetrating gaze, spirits who are candid even in communicating their most cherished secrets and their as yet unborn impulses. Nevertheless, he would never stake his all on any belief that such spirits were in any way intimately bound up with living, physical bodies. Outside of space and without location as they are, they are everywhere—and nowhere. The spiritual appears neither as a living expression of a bodily substrate, nor, conversely, does the bodily substance appear as the radius of action of the spiritual entity. The world thus collapses, falling into two completely alienated halves: a bodiless spiritual half and an embodied mechanistic half. All that we seem to lack, to paraphrase Goethe’s poem, is "the living bond"!

The "divorce" to which we have just referred is not some idle fantasy, but rather a shabby rehash of a doctrine whose theoretical presentation was first formulated during Plato’s lifetime. Nevertheless, the most flagrant and dogmatic revival of this style of thought began at the Renaissance. On one side, there is "matter"; on the other, we have "spirit." Now matter is spatial and embodied, whilst spirit is non-spatial and bodiless; matter obeys every law promulgated by our mechanistic science; spirit functions on the basis of an autonomous "freedom." We are confronted here by the self-same splitting of the world-image that we encountered earlier in our discussion of the Cartesian cogitare and esse, which we appropriated as our starting point on the road that has conducted us to our demonstration of the following truth: we can never formulate a concept of life if we insist on confusing life and concept. Let us now proceed by insisting that it belongs to the very nature of comprehension that it relates solely to the sphere of objects and mechanisms. Not only is thinking consciousness incapable of discovering life: it also possesses the ability to murder life. And whatever has been pierced by the searchlight of the intellect is instantaneously transformed into a mere thing, a quantifiable object for our thought that is henceforth only mechanically related to other objects. The paradoxical expression of a modern sage, "we perceive only that which is dead," is a lapidary formulation of a deep truth. 

However, even if the terms "mechanistic" and "lifeless" should come to be regarded as interchangeable, we would still refuse to endorse the views of certain well-intentioned contemporary biologists who compound the reigning foolishness in their field by attempting to locate in certain processes occurring in physical bodies the definitive proof that the living body is not a machine. It is a machine, to the extent that we endeavor to comprehend its workings, just as it will remain perpetually inconceivable to the extent that it is alive. Those who announce that dead matter actually possesses the capacity to generate life are not simply committing an insignificant error of empirical observation, for theirs is an error whose sheer idiocy can in no way be regarded as inferior to that of the crackpot who has managed to convince himself that the meters, kilograms, and atomic weights with whose assistance we are able to quantify various natural processes, are in fact the very causative agents that bring about the manifold transformations in nature that they had been designed for the express purpose of measuring! Just as the longitudinal oscillation is certainly not the tone itself, but merely the quantifiable substratum underlying the tone, so too is the chemical-physical process transpiring in the living physical cell certainly not its life, but rather precisely that which is relevant to the condition, governed by strict enforcement of natural law, of its "material" (dinglichen) bearer. Does it not then appear to be the case that we must renounce our quest to formulate a science of life?

We must in fact abandon any such attempt so long as we remain stuck fast in the empty cogitare, since in lieu of this there is only the esse. No type of insight can be considered feasible under such circumstances other than that which can be rigidly fixed in "exact" concepts. An individual student may even relinquish every one of these options if that which is still referred to as "science" should in the final analysis seem in his eyes to be more like an initiation into some mystery cult; the only requirement in such a case is that he must not confuse his unpretentious thirst for knowledge with ignorance or uncertainty. When we summon up a recollection that effects us personally, the revived memory immeasurably enriches our living substance; indeed, we may be so compelled by the alluring charm of our recollected vision that we can only feel pity for the conventional scientist who must surely be tormented to distraction when he must attempt satisfactorily to account for the phenomenon! Life is not "observed," but it is felt with all of our darkest powers. And we are only able to achieve access to this feeling of living actuality with complete certainty in our deepest inwardness; beyond that, nothing can be definitely asserted. Whether we judge, assert, will or wish, dream, fantasize, each and every one of these activities is supported and penetrated by the self-same stream of elementary emotional life, which is incomparable, irreducible, and beyond the reach of rationalization or coercion, for we are apodictically certain that life can never, ever be "grasped" (begriffen). And since we feel ourselves to be filled with this vitality, we therefore bring ourselves into that most intimate bond with the substance of life: the image of the world. Briefly put: we experience the personal and participate in the experience of a stranger. From that standpoint, it surely follows that we can know of life only that which our vitality allows us to know based solely on how deeply we are able to immerse our being in the vital substrate; a profound immersion in the substance of life will endow us with the ability to revive a living memory even within an enfeebled consciousness. It is not in the objectivity of outer and inner percepts, with their endless inventory of categories (of things, forces, causes, effects, and movements), but solely and utterly in an orientation toward the realm of experience, that we can establish an anchorage for the science of life. But now asymptotic formulæ have banished the science of life from the living depths of the national spirit until at last, like a growing plant that vainly seeks for nourishment on a deforested continent, the national spirit is likewise stunted and deformed due to the relentless pressure of a leveling age. 

We now must explore a world whose philosophy regards mechanistic, quantifying thought as having no independent existence whatsoever, and which regards the results achieved by such formalistic modes of thought as merely the conceptual precipitate that has been prescinded from a living entity. No living cell could ever have arisen upon the earth if the earth itself, as well as the entire universe, were not, in fact, a phenomenal manifestation of life. Likewise, the fall of the stone, the formation of the clouds, the torrential downpour of the rain, are outward expressions of life, and surely in the first rank of such expressions is the earth, just as in the second rank we find the grander modes of interconnected cosmic life. The planetary systems, the firmament of the fixed stars, and the other astral phenomena richly proclaim the presence of a vital unity whose temporal duration so far exceeds the scope of human judgment that its very longevity makes it appear as if the cosmos receded from our gaze, leaving behind the impression of an ostensibly unchanging state, the characteristics of which are preserved in the crude expositions of our mechanistic empiricism. Every truly profound system of metaphysics must perforce valorize the primal actuality of life, just as every system of mathematics must valorize its own fundamental truths. The mechanical forces can be comprehended from the side of the living substance in the analytic process of mere understanding, but there is no reverse direction of apprehension by which an authentic comprehension of the substance of life can be derived from an analysis of mechanical forces. The core-questions will remain: what sort of event transpired that enabled the planetary mode of life to culminate in cellular life; what potential transformations are still in store for life; what does the vital and eternally rhythmical pulse-pattern of "coming-to-be" and "passing-away" mean to the planetary life; what is the meaning of death and life to the living organism; and how, finally, does the "macrocosm" effect changes within the "microcosm"? 

In spite of all the chatter of yesterday and today on the topic of "progress," there have been prophetic souls who have drawn our attention to the implications of the indubitable increase of man’s mastery (alas! along with man’s destruction) of nature. But even these prophets have not devoted sufficient attention to the equally blatant assaults on the values of the soul; and some even attempt to introduce a certain balance into their meditations by insisting that at the very least our increased scientific knowledge will eventually enable us to recover our health and dispel the shadows that loom over our future. But it is only when we ignore the profound truth that man can indeed increase his store of knowledge without increasing his wisdom, and that he can likewise establish order without experiencing a concomitant yearning for beauty, that we feel compelled to oppose with all of our power the unthinking respect that has been accorded to modern science as well as to the course that it has set for itself. Contemporary science has, in effect, erected a hypertrophic "world-mechanism" (in the broadest sense of the word), which, we freely admit, no earlier age could ever have approximated. But science has also blinded itself to the point of hopelessness before the incomparably greater and more widely-ramified question: the question of life. And surely the world has never before witnessed the spectacle of individuals who have become so wounded by their experience of the modern world that they would actively seek to establish connections with an earlier wisdom and with their ancestors, as if their greatest hope was that they might somehow successfully reverse the ominous course that the world has for so long seemed intent on pursuing! And indeed, from out of the vanished 19th century, and in spite of all of its technology and positivism, we must hail—for the creative work of these men of the last century has somehow survived the years, like splendid oases resisting the onslaught of the spreading wasteland known as "progress"—we must hail, I say, the dream-rich doctrine of life formulated by the German Romantics as well as the mighty religion of life devised by Friedrich Nietzsche. Nevertheless, even though these participants in the Romantic movement had been favored with a far more rigorous training than any scholar had ever received before their time, and although they were additionally equipped with a far more sophisticated inventory of technical implements than any of their forerunners could ever have envisaged, those superb resurrections of past modes of life, which comprise the loftiest achievements of the Romantics, had long ago been completely surpassed by a similar group of inquisitive students, viz., the pre-Socratics, those semi-mythical trailblazers of European thought, whose system of thought culminated in the so-called "Hylozoism." The student who immerses himself, lovingly and wisely, in the symbolic language of the pre-Socratics, must unfailingly conclude that no succeeding age—and especially not that of the pretentious twin-peaks of Hellenic wisdom, Plato and Aristotle!—has matched, in sheer profundity and panoramic scope, those dazzling philosophical ruins that we continually visit in our quest for wisdom: Thales, Anaximander, Heraclitus, Empedokles, and Pythagoras are their names. The least that we say of these giants is that they were well on the way to the epochal discovery that an authentic interpretation of the world must entail a doctrine of life. They also understood full well that the mechanistic aspect of reality should be reduced to the status of an insignificant by-product of the living world. Precisely what experimental tools, methodological advances, and theoretical frameworks may be developed to assist researchers in devising a reformed doctrine of life we are in no position to be able to predict. Perhaps it will be possible on some future occasion to delve more deeply into some of these matters, and to examine as well the treasure-trove of fresh ideas discovered by the great scientific visionaries who, even now, seek to establish the foundations of a more profound doctrine, a true science of life, which may ultimately render today’s narrow-minded biological teaching obsolete.
APPENDIX I:

ROSENBERG CONTRA KLAGES

I.

Excerpts from Gestalt und Leben, Reichsleiter Dr. Alfred Rosenberg’s Address, delivered on April 27, 1938, inaugurating the University of Halle’s Summer Semester:

It is not my intention to make use of this occasion to analyze the philosophy of Ludwig Klages. I do not intend to refute Klages, as one might expect, but to examine his concept of life as it is in itself, as well as in the context of our Germanic life.

Nevertheless, there must be no confusion here, for the National Socialist Movement does not "endorse" the philosophy of Ludwig Klages, and it most emphatically does not "stand by his side"¹; on the contrary, what is at issue here is our need for a straight answer to a crucial question: now that the Reich has recovered from the critical disease that almost destroyed it, are Klages and his circle of disciples willing to reconcile themselves to this reborn German way of life?

As I have indicated a moment ago, I have no interest in utilizing this forum as an opportunity to indulge in a bit of carping criticism, for I must resist the temptation to participate in petty polemical disputes. Instead, I will avail myself of this opportunity to cite a series of pronouncements that Klages himself has made in his various publications, and to confront them with pronouncements that have been formulated by the official spokesmen of the National Socialist Movement in the course of almost twenty years of struggle, during which our movement ceaselessly re-evaluated its most fundamental principles.

In his entire career Klages has formulated but one basic thought, and it would be improper for me to seek to trivialize this central principle that has, in effect, determined the whole course of his speculative life. On the contrary, the philosophy of Ludwig Klages stands or falls solely on the basis of the validity of the crucial postulate to which I allude, and which can be summarized as follows: the original sin of mankind transpired at the moment when the ecstatic, image-laden, and rhythmically pulsating life that man enjoyed during the primordial ["Pelasgian"] phase of existence was invaded by "spirit" (Geist), an entity whose essence is expressed in such phenomena as the will-to-power, purposeful activity, and the dictatorship of reason. All of the manifold horrors that comprise "World History" are, in the view of Klages, the ineluctable results of this invasion. In a characteristic utterance drawn from one of his major works, he explicitly states that the history of mankind clearly reveals the fact that it is in man, and only in man, that there occurs a "battle to the knife" between the power of universal love and a force that erupts into the sphere of life from outside the spatio-temporal continuum. This invader is spirit, the force that seeks to sever the poles of life in order to destroy life by tearing the soul from the body and the body from the soul.

In addition, Klages interprets the duality of our nature as the result of the destructive effects of critical consciousness and purposeful will upon man’s living substance. From this inner turmoil arises the ego or self, viz., the person. These are merely the masks that now govern our lives, which are conducted solely under the demands of thought and will. It is only through the ego that we can still hear the voice of the cosmos from which we have been expelled. Our masks have at last grown into our very flesh, to which they cling more tenaciously with every passing century. Thus, after a pre-history guided by the soul, Klages tells us, follows the history that is ruled by spirit; finally, in "post-history" man will become the mask itself, the hollow simulacrum of a living being. 

After all the filth and humiliation that it has had to endure, life comes to its dreadful end at the moment when the triumphant mask celebrates the conversion of once-living man into the "mock-man," the Golem.

Thus speaks Klages, our own Cassandra, and you’ll doubtless recall that it was the unfortunate destiny of Cassandra to be dismissed as an utter lunatic by those whose blindness to the actual state of affairs was so complete that they ignored her (accurate) prophecies, thereby assuring the consummation of the awful doom that awaited them. We might even see in this allusion to Cassandra a crystallization of Klages’s whole attitude to life. In truth, he never seems to tire of proclaiming such dire prophecies in the most strident accents.

In one utterance, he informs us that spirit is, in fact, the parasitic logos. In his later works he excoriates the spirit as a void without revelations, a nothingness whose only purpose is the ultimate annihilation of the substance of life. Briefly expressed, Klages insists that life and spirit (which in this philosopher’s thought comprises reason, understanding, and will) constitute the irreducibly antagonistic principles of existence. In this proposition, Klages effectively epitomizes the conclusion to which his examination of the phenomena of life as well his scrutiny of history have inexorably led him, and, we must admit, he defends this unique position with an incomparable eloquence and with a truly massive scholarship. 

Contemporary realities, however, have confounded the certainties of this oracle, for the Germanic powers of resistance that have recently been manifested were far greater than could ever have been imagined by admirers of the metaphysical dirges of this prophet of doom. At last the Faustian spirit shouted his defiant: "Alone, I will!" And it was precisely in the time of our most dreadful decline that there began not only Germany’s political rebirth, but the rebirth of our spirit and soul as well.

We are particularly troubled by the fact that Klages reserves his most bitter diatribes for the Hellenic world, to which he imputes the lion’s share of responsibility for the entry into history of the so-called spirit. Klages actually prefers an earlier and, in his view, more vital historical phase, to which he has given the name "the Pelasgian Age." He has delved deeply into the pre-historic cultures of the eastern Mediterranean (kleinasiatischen Völkerschaft), and he finds the ecstasies, mother-goddesses, and matriarchies that are so rampant in that cultural sphere, to be admirable, and even exemplary, expressions of Dionysian vitality. Thus, it is only logically consistent that Klages should break a lance against Nordic Hellas, a procedure that appears to me to be a most dangerous undertaking, since we feel that in adopting this approach Klages seems far less likely to discover the well-springs of a primordial vitality than to find himself proceeding swiftly down the road to madness.

As it happens, we know today that Classical Greece was definitely not an evolutionary cultural development that was the creative achievement of the genetic descendants of "Pelasgian" and hither-Asiatic types; the Greeks of the great period, in truth, constituted the representatives of a new race, one that would eventually force those self-same eastern Mediterranean peoples to submit to their military yoke, just as they would in the course of time replace the spiritual attitudes of the Levantines with their own ethical values and æsthetic ideals.

Hellas formed a unique protest of renewed life against the ecstasies, chthonic cults, and gloomy practices of an alien realm, and Apollo is the god whose name embodies for us the transformed Greek world that took its place. The "Pelasgian" world, on the other hand, represents the sinking back into a formless confusion characterized by rampant race chaos and disorder of soul. We most emphatically refuse to recognize the value of such dismal conditions.

To what extent Klages oversteps the bounds of an authentic philosophical-historical empiricism can be demonstrated in his denial of the existential powers of race (which are the concrete powers of life). An exceptionally blatant manifestation of this blindness occurs in his philosophizing on the so-called "telluric" turn. His statements here clearly indicate that Klages, who has certainly had every opportunity to familiarize himself with the findings of racial science during the last few decades, has utterly ignored these forces of the blood, believing them to be completely irrelevant to his metaphysical speculations. 

Likewise, Klages has encouraged certain petty scribblers among his disciples to vilify Immanuel Kant, this greatest of all thinkers. [One of them, Werner Deubel,] has published some of the most demented drivel that has ever been concocted by a sectarian’s brain; these documents are the most impudent that have come to my attention in many years, and, indeed, these writings seem as if they had been devised as an attack upon the very foundations of our National Socialist World-View!

These disciples of Klages refer to themselves as the "biocentric" school, and they regards it as their sacred mission to do battle with the so-called "mechanistic" philosophy; nevertheless, the far greater danger that I believe confronts us today is, rather, the biocentric philosophy itself, which must not be permitted to infect with its false teachings the scientific doctrines espoused by the National Socialist Movement. 

Precisely how life and the lifeless are related to each other is not a matter than can be settled by dogmatic proclamations. The two most prominent methods, however—the first, to grasp life by means of life (through observation of inner and outer experience), and, the second, to study the cosmos by means of mechanistic and mathematical methods—together comprise the indivisible essence of Germanic scientific research.

In the final analysis, spirit is not, as Klages believes, a power from outside the spatio-temporal continuum that has irrupted into an idyllic paradise. On the contrary, spirit is an integral element of our national life. 

And we cannot agree with Klages when he simply equates the God Jahweh of the Old Testament with the "logocentric" principle. On the contrary, Jahweh is to us the very incarnation of the savage fanaticism that has its origins in the deserts of Syria.

Nor can we dismiss the revolt of a new human type against the hither-Asiatic world as "a swindle of the spirit."

The struggle to rescue life, and our own life in particular, through the mission of National Socialism, will result in the restoration of meaning and purpose to those who had succumbed to the pointless drift that ruled the degenerate age of recent memory; and this rescue will be achieved, not on the basis of economic considerations, but solely through the purposive preservation of the powers of life. 

Life is, consequently, perpetually plastic in form; the expression of life’s inner and outer form is work, regardless of whether this work is artistic, philosophical, or political; when life is organic, it forms the comprehensive expression of soul, body, will, and reason. That is our most dearly cherished conviction. That attitude was, I must insist, the pre-condition for the great German rebirth, for the deliverance of German life from mortal danger. It was also a turning point in an even more comprehensive sense in that the dangers that threatened the other peoples of Europe were also averted, and the future will clearly show that the National Socialist Revolution restored life to all of the cultures of Europe.

¹ In early 1938, an article entitled Wir stehen zu Ludwig Klages appeared in the second January number of Wille und Macht, the official journal of the Hitler Youth. The (anonymous) author of the piece expressed a qualified approval of the Klagesian philosophy, and it was after reading this essay that a furious Rosenberg—whose hostility to Klages was so persistent that, as we shall see below, he was still obsessing about Klages as he sat awaiting death in his cell at Nuremberg—Rosenberg finally decided to mount an official campaign against the philosopher and his disciples.

II.

Excerpt from Der Mythus des 20. Jahrhunderts:

We now find ourselves in conflict with genuinely original forces of our age, with men who have also been willing to bury their dead, and with whom we have often come into sympathetic contact. Nevertheless, these very forces, justifiably rebelling against a frightful, ice-cold rationalism, now seek to revert to "primordial depths" (Urtiefen), proclaiming an all-out war against the spirit (Geist) itself in order to restore the body-soul unity by means of a philosophy that rejects reason, understanding, and will as manifestations of that spirit.

One is reminded at once of the emotional "return to nature" as well as of the valorization of the "primitive" that came upon the scene during the latter half of the eighteenth century. However, even the excesses of that age seem temperate and rational by comparison with the formulations of men like Ludwig Klages and Melchior Palágyi. What today’s psychology (Seelenkunde) and characterology are lacking, in fact, lies at an even deeper level than that to which these men have penetrated, for the only thing that can provide an organic infrastructure for their enterprise is the substance of the race-soul.

The appearance of a clearly defined consciousness is seen by these thinkers as the initial alienation of heroic man from his creative original state (Urzustand), his loss of a world that he had hitherto regarded with awe and reverence. They see in this primordial state the only authentic life that man has ever lived, a life that has since become tainted by exaggeratedly rational ideas and conceptual schemes. We immediately perceive the affinity as well as the incompatibility that exists between our own racial-spiritual world-view and that of the cosmogonic-psychical (Psycho-Kosmogonie) school. For them, the intellect is reduced to a mere implement that is completely without substance; its sole use is as a tool that facilitates the establishing of the causal nexus. However, once the intellect seizes the throne as a universal law-giver, this eventuality can indeed be seen as the downfall of a culture, since it provides conclusive evidence (unfortunately ignored by our neo-vitalists) of racial contamination. Up to this point there are many points of agreement between the two schools. Nevertheless, we insist that there is no necessity to assail reason and purpose as spiritual enemies. We realize just how, in sharp contrast to the peoples of the Semitic world, the Nordic world’s attitude toward the cosmos manifests a complete union between soul, will, and reason. We have no interest in such an abstraction as "primitive man," with his putative "confidence in earthly existence" (Weltsicherheit), for what interests us is the man of clearly distinct racial character. And one fact here seems to us to be quite curious, because we cannot avoid the impression that these embittered warriors against the life-alien rationalism of modernity have concocted their instinctively creative and heroic primitives—in what seems to us to be a completely rational manner.

III.

Excerpt from Heinrich Härtle’s edition of Dr. Rosenberg’s Memoirs, entitled Grossdeutschland: Traum und Tragödie—Rosenberg’s Kritik am Hitlerismus (SELBSTVERLAG H. HÄRTLE MÜNCHEN 1969): 

For many years Frau [Else] Bruckmann had been sponsoring the lecture-cycles given by Ludwig Klages and [Alfred] Schuler, and she was obviously quite impressed by their doctrines. After I had thoroughly familiarized myself with the thought-world of Klages, I had occasion to say to her that he had made a whole career out of a single aperçu; she was visibly offended by my remark.

APPENDIX II:

NSDAP’s Official Greeting to Klages on the Occasion of his 70th Birthday (Berlin Edition of the Völkischer Beobachter 12/10/42):

On the 70th birthday of Ludwig Klages, we wish once again to insist that we regard this man as our enemy. With regard to all of the decisive philosophical questions, we state that there can be no reconciliation whatsoever between the World-View of Klages and that of the National Socialist Movement. His view of nature and history, of man and his future, is, in principle, utterly incompatible with the fundamental theses of National Socialism! 

APPENDIX III:

Communication, dated 7/10/44, from the Gauleiter of Hesse to Martin Bormann:

I recommend that the sternest measures be invoked against the whole circle of Klages-disciples.