Human, All-Too-Human: A Book for Free Spirits, Part 2
Nietzsche · en
ambition of all idealists, coarser and subtler, din it even into the
child’s ears that the means of serving mankind at large depend upon
altogether different _things_—upon the salvation of the soul, the service
of the State, the advancement of science, or even upon social position and
property; whereas the needs of the individual, his requirements great and
small during the twenty-four hours of the day, are quite paltry or
indifferent.—Even Socrates attacked with all his might this arrogant
neglect of the human for the benefit of humanity, and loved to indicate by
a quotation from Homer the true sphere and conception of all anxiety and
reflection: “All that really matters,” he said, “is the good and evil hap
I find at home.”
7.
TWO MEANS OF CONSOLATION.—Epicurus, the soul-comforter of later antiquity,
said, with that marvellous insight which to this very day is so rarely to
be found, that for the calming of the spirit the solution of the final and
ultimate theoretical problems is by no means necessary. Hence, instead of
raising a barren and remote discussion of the final question, whether the
Gods existed, it sufficed him to say to those who were tormented by “fear
of the Gods”: “If there are Gods, they do not concern themselves with us.”
The latter position is far stronger and more favourable, for, by conceding
a few points to the other, one makes him readier to listen and to take to
heart. But as soon as he sets about proving the opposite (that the Gods do
concern themselves with us), into what thorny jungles of error must the
poor man fall, quite of his own accord, and without any cunning on the
part of his interlocutor! The latter must only have enough subtlety and
humanity to conceal his sympathy with this tragedy. Finally, the other
comes to feel disgust—the strongest argument against any
proposition—disgust with his own hypothesis. He becomes cold, and goes
away in the same frame of mind as the pure atheist who says, “What do the
Gods matter to me? The devil take them!”—In other cases, especially when a
half-physical, half-moral assumption had cast a gloom over his spirit,
Epicurus did not refute the assumption. He agreed that it might be true,
but that there was _a second assumption_ to explain the same phenomenon,
and that it could perhaps be maintained in other ways. The plurality of
hypotheses (for example, that concerning the origin of conscientious
scruples) suffices even in our time to remove from the soul the shadows
that arise so easily from pondering over a hypothesis which is isolated,
merely visible, and hence overvalued a hundredfold.—Thus whoever wishes to
console the unfortunate, the criminal, the hypochondriac, the dying, may
call to mind the two soothing suggestions of Epicurus, which can be
applied to a great number of problems. In their simplest form they would
run: firstly, granted the thing is so, it does not concern us; secondly,
the thing may be so, but it may also be otherwise.
8.