and rather a _tour de force_, little side issues and exaggerations. He is only genuine when nothing prevents him from being objective. His mirroring and everlastingly even soul can no longer say ‘yes,’ no longer say ‘no.’ It imposes nothing on anything, neither does it upset anything. It says with Leibnitz, ‘Je ne méprise presque rien.’” If in this passage Nietzsche reveals his delicate antipathy for a character we had all been taught to worship, in others he shows himself a pragmatist before that word had been heard of. The philosopher for him is no wanderer of the seas, accepting what shores he comes upon whether they smile on him or frown. For Nietzsche, the philosopher is a Caesarian conqueror who has his way with truth, and truth is such a thing as a strong man may have his way with. * * * * * But, “I am not of those of whom one asks ‘why?’” Nietzsche has somewhere written, and this is so true that I can use him for no more than a vehement example of spleen. If I am to enter upon the path of a more or less reasoned reaction against that objectivity we have all sometime held sacred, I must turn to those of whom one can ask “why?” And, notably, to William James. Now, if I do turn to James to ask him “why?”--Why is not the realist, with all his sad heroism and resigned courage, the noblest and best that man has imagined?--he answers, or I take him to, Because realism is a philosophy of little faith! Faith it is that makes worlds, realistic science has only the wit to acknowledge and the strength to suffer what faith has wrought. Bold to endure, it is timid to change, and a world in the making needs its makers, needs its poets and actors more than it needs audience or spectator. At the bottom of the realist’s brave heart lurks an abiding fear--the fear of making a fool of himself. But a world in the making like a battle in the fighting cries out for fools and the foolhardy. Faith risks to the point of folly, and because all making anew is a colossal risk, let us have colossal faith.