it does, and blasphemes every body who does not shout with it. To what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplace, who call to their playmates, “We piped to you and you would not dance, we lamented and you would not beat your breasts.” We are all influenced by what the medicinal psychologist is wont to call “suggestion”—influenced, that is, by alien thoughts, alien expressions of will. What we repeatedly hear comes to lose its strangeness; we come to think that we have understood it and appropriated it. Our taste, our moral judgment, our religious faith, these and such as these are probably far more alien than domestic, far more the life of others than our own,—in a word, suggestion. We have not tested the alien, elaborated it, made it our own. We have let these uncritically empty themselves into the vessel of our spirit where they coalesce, motley enough at times, with the rest of the content. There is, therefore, something of _Pöbel_ in all of us, whether we control others or are controlled by others. To form out of _Pöbel_ strong and free personalities of our very own,—as a cell is formed from the precellular stuff of life, as the flowers and fruit of a tree are elaborated from the sap and substance at their disposal,—this is the first and best service we can render society. To form out of _Pöbel_ a folk, not a distinctionless mass that wanders along the broad way to damnation,—a community of men, where each walks the narrow path of life, no herd in which the individual only has his number and answers when it is called,—a body with many members, each member having its own life and its own soul,—_also sprach Jesu-Fichte-Nietzsche_! The Prophecy of Gwic’hlan (_Translated by Edward Ramos from the French of Hersart de la Villemarque_) I When the sun sets, when the sea snores, I sing upon the sill of my door. When I was young, I used to sing; and I still sing who am grown old. I sing of the night, of the day, and none the less I am discontent. If my head is low, if I am discontented, it is not without cause. It is not that I am afraid; I am not afraid to be killed. It is not that I am afraid; I have lived long enough. When one does not look for me, I am found; and when one looks for me, he finds me not. Little import that which advenes: that which ought to be will be. And one must die three times, before he come to repose. II