ietzsche disagreed entirely with Renan's view, that Christ
was "le grand maitre en ironie"; in Aphorism 31 of "The Antichrist",
he says that he (Nietzsche) always purged his picture of the Humble
Nazarene of all those bitter and spiteful outbursts which, in view of
the struggle the first Christians went through, may very well have been
added to the original character by Apologists and Sectarians who, at
that time, could ill afford to consider nice psychological points,
seeing that what they needed, above all, was a wrangling and abusive
deity. These two conflicting halves in the character of the Christ of
the Gospels, which no sound psychology can ever reconcile, Nietzsche
always kept distinct in his own mind; he could not credit the same man
with sentiments sometimes so noble and at other times so vulgar, and
in presenting us with this new portrait of the Saviour, purged of all
impurities, Nietzsche rendered military honours to a foe, which far
exceed in worth all that His most ardent disciples have ever claimed for
Him. In verse 26 we are vividly reminded of Herbert Spencer's words "'Le
mariage de convenance' is legalised prostitution."

Chapter LXIX. The Shadow.

Here we have a description of that courageous and wayward spirit that
literally haunts the footsteps of every great thinker and every great
leader; sometimes with the result that it loses all aims, all hopes,
and all trust in a definite goal. It is the case of the bravest and
most broad-minded men of to-day. These literally shadow the most daring
movements in the science and art of their generation; they completely
lose their bearings and actually find themselves, in the end, without a
way, a goal, or a home. "On every surface have I already sat!...I become
thin, I am almost equal to a shadow!" At last, in despair, such men
do indeed cry out: "Nothing is true; all is permitted," and then they
become mere wreckage. "Too much hath become clear unto me: now nothing
mattereth to me any more. Nothing liveth any longer that I love,--how
should I still love myself! Have I still a goal? Where is MY home?"
Zarathustra realises the danger threatening such a man. "Thy danger is
not small, thou free spirit and wanderer," he says. "Thou hast had a bad
day. See that a still worse evening doth not overtake thee!" The danger
Zarathustra refers to is precisely this, that even a prison may seem a
blessing to such a man. At least the bars keep him in a place of rest;
a place