Those men who are in themselves destinies, and whose advent is the advent of fate, the whole race of _heroic_ bearers of burdens: oh! how heartily and gladly would they have respite from themselves for once in a while!--how they crave after stout hearts and shoulders, that they might free themselves, were it but for an hour or two, from that which oppresses them! And how fruitlessly they crave! ... They wait; they observe all that passes before their eyes: no man even cometh nigh to them with a thousandth part of their suffering and passion, no man guesseth to what end they have waited.... At last, at last, they learn the first lesson of their life: to wait no longer; and forthwith they learn their second lesson: to be affable, to be modest; and from that time onwards to endure everybody and every kind of thing--in short, to endure still a little more than they had endured theretofore. 6. The Highest Man as Lawgiver of the Future. 972. _The lawgivers of the future._--After having tried for a long time in vain to attach a particular meaning to the word "philosopher,"--for I found many antagonistic traits, I recognised that we can distinguish between two kinds of philosophers:-- (1) Those who desire to establish any large system of values (logical or moral); (2) Those who are the _lawgivers_ of such valuations. The former try to seize upon the world of the present or the past, by embodying or abbreviating the multifarious phenomena by means of signs: their object is to make it possible for us to survey, to reflect upon, to comprehend, and to utilise everything that has happened hitherto--they serve the purpose of man by using all past things to the benefit of his future. The second class, however, are _commanders;_ they say: "Thus shall it be!" They alone determine the "whither" and the "wherefore," and that which will be useful and beneficial to man; they have command over the previous work of scientific men, and all knowledge is to them only a means to their creations. This second kind of philosopher seldom appears; and as a matter of fact their situation and their danger is appalling. How often have they not intentionally blindfolded their eyes in order to shut out the sight of the small strip of ground which separates them from the abyss and from utter destruction. Plato, for instance, when he persuaded himself that "the good," as he wanted it, was not Plato's good, but "the good in itself," the eternal treasure which a certain man of the name of Plato had chanced to find on his way! This same will to blindness prevails in a much coarser form in the case of the founders of religion; their "Thou shalt" must on no account sound to their ears like "I will,"--they only dare to pursue their task as if under the command of God; their legislation of values can only be a burden they can bear if they regard it as "revelation," in this way their conscience is not crushed by the responsibility.