388.
Rascality with a good Conscience.—It is exceedingly annoying to be cheated in small bargains in certain countries,—in the Tyrol, for example,—because, in addition to the bad bargain, we are compelled to accept the evil countenance and coarse greediness of the man who has cheated us, together with his bad conscience and his hostile feeling against us. At Venice, on the other hand, the cheater is highly delighted at his successful fraud, and is not in the least angry with the man he has cheated—nay, he is even inclined to show him some kindness, and above all to have a hearty laugh with him if he likes.—In short, one must possess wit and a good conscience in order to be a knave, and this will almost reconcile the cheated one with the cheat.12
389.
Rather too Awkward.—Good people who are too awkward to be polite and amiable promptly endeavour to return an act of politeness by an important service, or by a contribution beyond their power. It is touching to see them timidly producing [pg 298] their gold coins when others have offered them their gilded coppers!
390.
Hiding one's Intelligence.—When we surprise some one in the act of hiding his intelligence from us we call him evil: the more so if we suspect that it is his civility and benevolence which have induced him to do so.
391.
The Evil Moment.—Lively dispositions only lie for a moment: after this they have deceived themselves, and are convinced and honest.
392.
The Condition of Politeness.—Politeness is a very good thing, and really one of the four chief virtues (although the last), but in order that it may not result in our becoming tiresome to one another the person with whom I have to deal must be either one degree more or less polite than I—otherwise we should never get on, and the ointment would not only anoint us, but would cement us together.
393.
Dangerous Virtues.—“He forgets nothing, but forgives everything”—wherefore he shall be doubly detested, for he causes us double shame by his memory and his magnanimity.
394.
Without Vanity.—Passionate people think little of what others may think; their state of mind raises them above vanity.
395.
Contemplation.—In some thinkers the contemplative state peculiar to a thinker is always the consequence of a state of fear, in others always of desire. In the former, contemplation thus seems allied to the feeling of security, in the latter to the feeling of surfeit—in other words, the former are spirited in their mood, the latter over-satiated and neutral.
396.
Hunting.—The one is hunting for agreeable truths, the other for disagreeable ones. But even the former takes greater pleasure in the hunt than in the booty.
397.
Education.—Education is a continuation of procreation, and very often a kind of supplementary varnishing of it.
398.
How to recognise the Choleric.—Of two persons who are struggling together, or who love and admire one another, the more choleric will always be at a disadvantage. The same remark applies to two nations.
399.
Self-Excuse.—Many men have the best possible right to act in this or that way; but as soon as they begin to excuse their actions we no longer believe that they are right—and we are mistaken.
400.
Moral Pampering.—There are tender, moral natures who are ashamed of all their successes and feel remorse after every failure.
401.
Dangerous Unlearning.—We begin by unlearning to love others, and end by finding nothing lovable in ourselves.
402.
Another form of Toleration.—“To remain a minute too long on red-hot coals and to be burnt a little does no harm either to men or to chestnuts. The slight bitterness and hardness makes the kernel all the sweeter.”—Yes, this is your opinion, you who enjoy the taste! You sublime cannibals!
403.
Different Pride.—Women turn pale at the thought that their lover may not be worthy of them; Men turn pale at the thought that they may not [pg 301] be worthy of the women they love. I speak of perfect women, perfect men. Such men, who are self-reliant and conscious of power at ordinary times, grow diffident and doubtful of themselves when under the influence of a strong passion. Such women, on the other hand, though always looking upon themselves as the weak and devoted sex, become proud and conscious of their power in the great exception of passion,—they ask: “Who then is worthy of me?”
404.
When we seldom do Justice.—Certain men are unable to feel enthusiasm for a great and good cause without committing a great injustice in some other quarter: this is their kind of morality.