of men that they have no feeling or sympathy for him—and he cannot go back any more, he cannot even go back to men's sympathy any more "! Cf. a passage quoted by Meyer (op. cit., p. 587), which I cannot locate: "How much of truth one can bear without degenerating, is his [the philosopher's] measure. Just so, how much happiness—just so, how much freedom and power!"
f Beyond Good and Evil, §41. I quote practically the whole of this passage: "We must give proofs to ourselves that we are fitted for independence and command; and this in season. We must not avoid our tests, though they are perhaps the most dangerous game we can play, and in the last instance are only tests that have ourselves for witness and no other judge. For example: Not to hang on a person, even one most loved—every person is a prison, also a corner. Not to hang on a fatherland, even if it be one most suffering and necessitous—it is already less difficult to loosen one's heart from a victorious fatherland. Not to hang on a compassion, even if it be one for higher men into whose extraordinary suffering and helplessness chance has allowed us to glance. Not to hang on a science, even if it entices us with most precious discoveries apparently reserved for just us. Not to hang on one's own emancipation, on that blissful sense of the far and unfamiliar which the bird has that flies ever higher, in order to see ever more beneath it—the danger of one with wings. Not to hang on our own virtues and become as a whole a sacrifice to some part of us, e.g., to 'our hospitality'—the danger of dangers for high-natured and opulent souls, who are prodigal with themselves almost to the point of unconcern and carry the virtue of liberality so far that it becomes a vice. We must know how to preserve ourselves: strongest test of independence." Cf. as to the preliminary self-training of the ruler, Werke (pocket ed.), VII, 484, §§ 23-4, 27-8.
g Will to Power, § 713. It is curious to find a counterpart of this conception in the older, shall I say? profounder, theological view of the world as a scene of trial, in which, while many are called, few are chosen. The "chosen," however, as viewed by Christianity, are perfect members of the flock, supreme exemplars of the social virtues, while Nietzsche's "chosen" are those who stand more or less aloof from the flock, acting according to their own, not social law, as autonomous as God, indeed the human counterpart of God.
h Beyond Good and Evil, § 287. Cf. Will to Power, § 940: "Higher than 'thou oughtst' stands 'I will' (heroes); higher than 'I will' stands 'I am' (the Greek Gods)." Also Human, etc., § 210: "Born aristocrats of the mind are not too eager; their creations appear and fall from the tree on a quiet autumn night without being hastily craved, pushed, or crowded by new growths. The unceasing wish to create is common and shows jealousy, envy, ambition. If one is something, one really needs to produce nothing—and all the same does very much. Beyond the 'productive' man there is a still higher species." Nietzsche cites the remark of Plutarch that no noble-born youth, in seeing the Zeus in Pisa, would wish to become even a Phidias, or, if he saw the Hera in Argos, would wish to become even a Polyclet; and that quite as little would he desire to be Anacreon, Philetas, or Archilochus, whatever delight he took in their poems (Werke, IX, 150). Great men protect artists, poets, and those who are masters in any direction, but do not confuse themselves with them (Will to Power, § 943). Perhaps it is in this exaltation of being above action that the secret (or a part of it) lies of Nietzsche's relatively low estimate of Carlyle and his hero-worship. On the other hand, Emerson (Essay on "Character") uses a legend which perfectly illustrates Nietzsche's thought: "O Iole! how did you know that Hercules was a god?" "Because," answered Iole, "I was content the moment my eyes fell on him. When I beheld Theseus, I
