and beast of burden)--and how, conversely, "bad," "low," "unhappy" have never ceased to ring in the Greek ear with a tone in which "unhappy" is the predominant note: this is a heritage of the old noble aristocratic morality, which remains true to itself even in contempt (let philologists remember the sense in which ὀιζυρός, ἄνολβος, τλήμων, δυστυχεῑν, ξυμφορά used to be employed). The "well-born" simply _felt_ themselves the "happy"; they did not have to manufacture their happiness artificially through looking at their enemies, or in cases to talk and _lie themselves_ into happiness (as is the custom with all resentful men); and similarly, complete men as they were, exuberant with strength, and consequently _necessarily_ energetic, they were too wise to dissociate happiness from action--activity becomes in their minds necessarily counted as happiness (that is the etymology of εὖ πρἆττειν)--all in sharp contrast to the "happiness" of the weak and the oppressed, with their festering venom and malignity, among whom happiness appears essentially as a narcotic, a deadening, a quietude, a peace, a "Sabbath," an enervation of the mind and relaxation of the limbs,--in short, a purely _passive_ phenomenon. While the aristocratic man lived in confidence and openness with himself (gennaios, "noble-born," emphasises the nuance "sincere," and perhaps also "naïf"), the resentful man, on the other hand, is neither sincere nor naïf, nor honest and candid with himself. His soul _squints_; his mind loves hidden crannies, tortuous paths and back-doors, everything secret appeals to him as _his_ world, _his_ safety, _his_ balm; he is past master in silence, in not forgetting, in waiting, in provisional self-depreciation and self-abasement. A race of such _resentful_ men will of necessity eventually prove more _prudent_ than any aristocratic race, it will honour prudence on quite a distinct scale, as, in fact, a paramount condition of existence, while prudence among aristocratic men is apt to be tinged with a delicate flavour of luxury and refinement; so among them it plays nothing like so integral a part as that complete certainty of function of the governing _unconscious_ instincts, or as indeed a certain lack of prudence, such as a vehement and valiant charge, whether against danger or the enemy, or as those ecstatic bursts of rage, love, reverence, gratitude, by which at all times noble souls have recognised each other. When the resentment of the aristocratic man manifests itself, it fulfils and exhausts itself in an immediate reaction, and consequently instills no _venom_: on the other hand, it never manifests itself at all in countless instances, when in the case of the feeble and weak it would be inevitable. An inability to take seriously for any length of time their enemies, their disasters, their _misdeeds_--that is the sign of the full strong natures who possess a superfluity of moulding plastic force, that