Human, All Too Human Volume Ii Part 53

215.

FAs.h.i.+ON AND MODERNITY.-Wherever ignorance, uncleanness, and superst.i.tion are still rife, where communication is backward, agriculture poor, and the priesthood powerful, national costumes are still worn. Fas.h.i.+on, on the other hand, rules where the opposite conditions prevail. Fas.h.i.+on is accordingly to be found next to the virtues in modern Europe. Are we to call it their seamy side?-Masculine dress that is fas.h.i.+onable and no longer national proclaims of its wearer: firstly, that he does not wish to appear as an individual or as member of a cla.s.s or race; that he has made an intentional suppression of these kinds of vanity a law unto himself: secondly, that he is a worker, and has little time for dressing and self-adornment, and moreover regards anything expensive or luxurious in material and cut as out of harmony with his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indicates the more learned and intellectual callings as those to which he stands or would like to stand nearest as a European-whereas such national costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupations of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most desirable and distinguished.

Within this general character of masculine fas.h.i.+on exist the slight fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great cities-in other words, Europeans who have not yet reached maturity.-European women are as yet far less mature, and for this reason the fluctuations with them are much greater. They also will not have the national costume, and hate to be recognised by their dress as German, French, or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of creating an impression as individuals. Then, too, their dress must leave no one in doubt that they belong to one of the more reputable cla.s.ses of society (to "good" or "high" or "great" society), and on this score their pretensions are all the greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that cla.s.s.

Above all, the young woman does not want to wear what an older woman wears, because she thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected of being somewhat advanced in years. The older woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.

From this compet.i.tion must continually arise temporary fas.h.i.+ons, in which the youthful element is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after the inventive genius of the young female artists has run riot for some time in such indiscreet revelations of youth (or rather, after the inventive genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still existing peoples-in fact, of the whole world of dress-has been pressed into the service, and, say, the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh), then they at last discover, time and again, that they have not been good judges of their own interest; that if they wish to have power over men, the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body is more likely to win than naked or half-naked honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity turns once more in an opposite direction. The rather older young women find that their kingdom has come, and the compet.i.tion of the dear, absurd creatures rages again from the beginning.-But the more women advance mentally, and no longer among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an unripe age, the smaller their fluctuations of costume grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A just verdict in this respect must not be based on ancient models-in other words, not on the standard of the dress of women who dwell on the sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean-but must have an eye to the climatic conditions of the central and northern regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit of Europe now finds its most natural home.-Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that will be the characteristic mark of fas.h.i.+on and modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens the still unripened men and women of Europe; but rather the repudiation of national, social, and individual vanity. Accordingly, it is commendable, because involving a saving of time and strength, if certain cities and districts of Europe think and invent for all the rest in the matter of dress, in view of the fact that a sense of form does not seem to have been bestowed upon all. Nor is it really an excessive ambition, so long as these fluctuations still exist, for Paris, for example, to claim to be the sole inventor and innovator in this sphere. If a German, from hatred of these claims on the part of a French city, wishes to dress differently,-as, for example, in the Durer style,-let him reflect that he then has a costume which the Germans of olden times wore, but which the Germans have not in the slightest degree invented. For there has never been a style of dress that characterised the German as a German. Moreover, let him observe how he looks in his costume, and whether his altogether modern face, with all its hues and wrinkles, does not raise a protest against a Durer fas.h.i.+on of dress.-Here, where the concepts "modern" and "European" are almost identical, we understand by "Europe" a far wider region than is embraced by the Europe of geography, the little peninsula of Asia. In particular, we must include America, in so far as America is the daughter of our civilisation. On the other hand, not all Europe falls under the heading of cultured "Europe," but only those nations and divisions of nations which have their common past in Greece, Rome, Judaism, and Christianity.

216.

"GERMAN VIRTUE."-There is no denying that from the end of the eighteenth century a current of moral awakening flowed through Europe. Then only Virtue found again the power of speech. She learnt to discover the unrestrained gestures of exaltation and emotion, she was no longer ashamed of herself, and she created philosophies and poems for her own glorification. If we look for the sources of this current, we come upon Rousseau, but the mythical Rousseau, the phantom formed from the impression left by his writings (one might almost say again, his mythically interpreted writings) and by the indications that he provided himself. He and his public constantly worked at the fas.h.i.+oning of this ideal figure. The other origin lies in the resurrection of the Stoical side of Rome's greatness, whereby the French so n.o.bly carried on the task of the Renaissance. With striking success they proceeded from the reproduction of antique forms to the reproduction of antique characters.

Thus they may always claim a t.i.tle to the highest honours, as the nation which has. .h.i.therto given the modern world its best books and its best men.

How this twofold archetype, the mythical Rousseau and the resurrected spirit of Rome, affected France's weaker neighbours, is particularly noticeable in Germany, which, in consequence of her novel and quite unwonted impulse to seriousness and loftiness in will and self-control, finally came to feel astonishment at her own newfound virtue, and launched into the world the concept "German virtue," as if this were the most original and hereditary of her possessions. The first great men who transfused into their own blood that French impulse towards greatness and consciousness of the moral will were more honest, and more grateful.

Whence comes the moralism of Kant? He is continually reminding us: from Rousseau and the revival of Stoic Rome. The moralism of Schiller has the same source and the same glorification of the source. The moralism of Beethoven in notes is a continual song in praise of Rousseau, the antique French, and Schiller. "Young Germany" was the first to forget its grat.i.tude, because in the meantime people had listened to the preachers of hatred of the French. The "young German" came to the fore with more consciousness than is generally allowed to youths. When he investigated his paternity, he might well think of the proximity of Schiller, Schleiermacher, and Fichte. But he should have looked for his grandfathers in Paris and Geneva, and it was very short-sighted of him to believe what he believed: that virtue was not more than thirty years old. People became used to demanding that the word "German" should connote "virtue," and this process has not been wholly forgotten to this day.-Be it observed further that this moral awakening, as may almost be guessed, has resulted only in drawbacks and obstacles to the _recognition_ of moral phenomena. What is the entire German philosophy, starting from Kant, with all its French, English, and Italian offshoots and by-products? A semi-theological attack upon Helvetius, a rejection of the slowly and laboriously acquired views and signposts of the right road, which in the end he collected and expressed so well. To this day Helvetius is the best-abused of all good moralists and good men in Germany.

217.

CLa.s.sIC AND ROMANTIC.-Both cla.s.sically and romantically minded spirits-two species that always exist-cherish a vision of the future; but the former derive their vision from the strength of their time, the latter from its weakness.

218.

THE MACHINE AS TEACHER.-Machinery teaches in itself the dovetailed working of ma.s.ses of men, in activities where each has but one thing to do. It is the model of party organisations and of warfare. On the other hand, it does not teach individual self-glorification, for it makes of the many a machine, and of each individual a tool for one purpose. Its most general effect is to teach the advantage of centralisation.

219.

UNABLE TO SETTLE.-One likes to live in a small town. But from time to time just this small town drives us out into bare and lonely Nature, especially when we think we know it too well. Finally, in order to refresh ourselves from Nature, we go to the big town. A few draughts from this cup and we see its dregs, and the circle begins afresh, with the small town as starting-point.-So the moderns live; they are in all things rather too thorough to be able to settle like the men of other days.

220.

REACTION AGAINST THE CIVILISATION OF MACHINERY.-The machine, itself a product of the highest mental powers, sets in motion hardly any but the lower, unthinking forces of the men who serve it. True, it unfetters a vast quant.i.ty of force which would otherwise lie dormant. But it does not communicate the impulse to climb higher, to improve, to become artistic.

It creates activity and monotony, but this in the long-run produces a counter-effect, a despairing ennui of the soul, which through machinery has learnt to hanker after the variety of leisure.

221.

THE DANGER OF ENLIGHTENMENT.-All the half-insane, theatrical, b.e.s.t.i.a.lly cruel, licentious, and especially sentimental and self-intoxicating elements which go to form the true revolutionary substance, and became flesh and spirit, before the revolution, in Rousseau-all this composite being, with fact.i.tious enthusiasm, finally set even "enlightenment" upon its fanatical head, which thereby began itself to s.h.i.+ne as in an illuminating halo. Yet, enlightenment is essentially foreign to that phenomenon, and, if left to itself, would have pierced silently through the clouds like a shaft of light, long content to transfigure individuals alone, and thus only slowly transfiguring national customs and inst.i.tutions as well. But now, bound hand and foot to a violent and abrupt monster, enlightenment itself became violent and abrupt. Its danger has therefore become almost greater than its useful quality of liberation and illumination, which it introduced into the great revolutionary movement.

Whoever grasps this will also know from what confusion it has to be extricated, from what impurities to be cleansed, in order that it may then by itself continue the work of enlightenment and also nip the revolution in the bud and nullify its effects.

222.

Pa.s.sION IN THE MIDDLE AGES.-The Middle Ages are the period of great pa.s.sions. Neither antiquity nor our period possesses this widening of the soul. Never was the capacity of the soul greater or measured by larger standards. The physical, primeval sensuality of the barbarian races and the over-soulful, over-vigilant, over-brilliant eyes of Christian mystics, the most childish and youthful and the most over-ripe and world-weary, the savageness of the beast of prey and the effeminacy and excessive refinement of the late antique spirit-all these elements were then not seldom united in one and the same person. Thus, if a man was seized by a pa.s.sion, the rapidity of the torrent must have been greater, the whirl more confused, the fall deeper than ever before.-We modern men may be content to feel that we have suffered a loss here.

223.

ROBBING AND SAVING.-All intellectual movements whereby the great may hope to rob and the small to save are sure to prosper. That is why, for instance, the German Reformation made progress.

224.

GLADSOME SOULS.-When even a remote hint of drink, drunkenness, and an evil-smelling kind of jocularity was given, the souls of the old Germans waxed gladsome. Otherwise they were depressed, but here they found something they really understood.

225.

DEBAUCHERY AT ATHENS.-Even when the fish-market of Athens acquired its thinkers and poets, Greek debauchery had a more idyllic and refined appearance than Roman or German debauchery ever had. The voice of Juvenal would have sounded there like a hollow trumpet, and would have been answered by a good-natured and almost childish outburst of laughter.

226.