Thoughts Out of Season, Part II

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 79

the other half there was a gnawing
aspiration, which we can understand, when we hear that he turned away
with a sad look from the picture of Rancé, the founder of the
Trappists, with the words: "That is a matter of grace." For genius
evermore yearns after holiness as it sees further and more clearly
from its watch-tower than other men, deep into the reconciliation of
Thought and Being, the kingdom of peace and the denial of the will,
and up to that other shore, of which the Indians speak. The wonder
is, that Schopenhauer's nature should have been so inconceivably
stable and unshakable that it could neither be destroyed nor
petrified by this yearning. Every one will understand this after the
measure of his own character and greatness: none of us will
understand it in the fulness of its meaning.

The more one considers these three dangers, the more extraordinary
will appear his vigour in opposing them and his safety after the
battle. True, he gained many scars and open wounds: and a cast of
mind that may seem somewhat too bitter and pugnacious. But his single
ideal transcends the highest humanity in him. Schopenhauer stands as
a pattern to men, in spite of all those scars and scratches. We may
even say, that what was imperfect and "all too human" in him, brings
us nearer to him as a man, for we see a sufferer and a kinsman to
suffering, not merely a dweller on the unattainable heights of
genius.

These three constitutional dangers that threatened Schopenhauer,
threaten us all. Each one of us bears a creative solitude within
himself and his consciousness of it forms an exotic aura of
strangeness round him. Most men cannot endure it, because they are
slothful, as I said, and because their solitude hangs round them a
chain of troubles and burdens. No doubt, for the man with this heavy
chain, life loses almost everything that one desires from it in
youth--joy, safety, honour: his fellow-men pay him his due
of--isolation! The wilderness and the cave are about him, wherever he
may live. He must look to it that he be not enslaved and oppressed,
and become melancholy thereby. And let him surround himself with the
pictures of good and brave fighters such as Schopenhauer.

The second danger, too, is not rare. Here and there we find one
dowered by nature with a keen vision; his thoughts dance gladly in
the witches' Sabbath of dialectic; and if he uncautiously give his
talent the rein, it is easy to lose all humanity and live a ghostly
life in the realm of "pure

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Text Comparison with Thoughts out of Season, Part I David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer - Richard Wagner in Bayreuth.

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The Editor, during a recent visit to Mrs.
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NIETZSCHE IN ENGLAND: AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY BY THE EDITOR.
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Both Nietzsche and Disraeli have clearly recognised that this patient of theirs is suffering from weakness and not from sinfulness, for which latter some kind of strength may still be required; both are therefore entirely opposed to a further dieting him down to complete moral emaciation, but are, on the contrary, prescribing a tonic, a roborating, a natural regime for him--advice for which both doctors have been reproached with Immorality by their contemporaries as well as by posterity.
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As we have already hinted, there are evidences of his having subconsciously discerned the _real_ Wagner, even in the heyday of their friendship, behind the ideal he had formed of him; for his eyes were too intelligent to be deceived, even though his understanding refused at first to heed the messages they sent it: both the _Birth of Tragedy_ and _Wagner in Bayreuth_ are with us to prove this, and not merely when we read these works between the lines, but when we take such passages as those found on pp.
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But with this kind of culture, which is, at bottom, nothing more nor less than a phlegmatic insensibility to real culture, men cannot vanquish an enemy, least of all an enemy like the French, who, whatever their worth may be, do actually possess a genuine and productive culture, and whom, up to the present, we have systematically copied, though in the majority of cases without skill.
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the heyday and confusion of seeking, experimenting, destroying, promising, surmising, and hoping was sweeping in currents and cross-currents over the land, the thinking middle-classes were right in their concern for their own security.
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It is said, for instance, that this symphony "is naturally the favourite of a prevalent taste, which in art, and music especially, mistakes the grotesque for the genial, and the formless for the sublime" (p.
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The universe, he is happy to inform us, is, it is true, a machine with jagged iron wheels, stamping and hammering ponderously, but: "We do not only find the revolution of pitiless wheels in our world-machine, but also the shedding of soothing oil" (p.
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VIII.
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And only a few can prove this.
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Which of us has not soiled his hands and heart in the disgusting idolatry of modern culture? Which of us can exist without the waters of purification? Who does not hear the voice which cries, "Be silent and.
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In what other artist do we meet with the like of this, in the same proportion? Schiller's characters, from the Robbers to Wallenstein and Tell, do indeed pursue an ennobling course, and likewise reveal something of their author's development; but in Wagner the standard is higher and the distance covered is much greater.
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Wagner is most philosophical where he is most powerfully active and heroic.
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But if he can do more than condemn and despise, if he is capable of loving, sympathising, and assisting in the general work of construction, he must still condemn, notwithstanding, in order to prepare the road for his willing soul.
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For if we who are but the spectators and not the creators of this display of dithyrambic dramatic art, can almost imagine a dream to be more real than the actual experiences of our wakeful hours, how much more keenly must the creator realise this contrast! There he stands amid all the clamorous appeals and importunities of the day, and of the necessities of life;.
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In this respect his nature is perhaps more presumptuous even than Goethe's, despite the fact that the latter said of himself: "I always thought I had mastered everything; and even had I been crowned king, I should have regarded the honour as thoroughly deserved.
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Beethoven was the first to make music speak a new language--till then forbidden--the language of passion; but as his art was based upon the laws and conventions of the ETHOS, and had to attempt to justify itself in regard to them, his artistic development was beset with peculiar difficulties and obscurities.
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His music is never vague or dreamy; everything that is allowed to speak through it, whether it be of man or of nature, has a strictly individual passion; storm and fire acquire the ruling power of a personal will in his hands.
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If one considers the relation between the melody of song and that of speech, one will perceive how he sought to adopt as his natural model the pitch, strength, and tempo of the passionate man's voice in order to transform it into art; and if one further considers the task of introducing this singing passion into the general symphonic order of music, one gets some idea of the stupendous difficulties he had to overcome.
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And now ask yourselves, ye generation of to-day, Was all this composed _for you_? Have ye the courage to point up to the stars of the whole of this.