all laws have been promulgated by an erratic God who even finds
pleasure in blundering. It really is a most amusing spectacle to watch
Strauss as a metaphysical architect, building castles in the air. But
for whose benefit is this entertainment given? For the smug and noble
"We," that they may not lose conceit with themselves: they may
possibly have taken sudden fright, in the midst of the inflexible and
pitiless wheel-works of the world-machine, and are tremulously
imploring their leader to come to their aid. That is why Strauss pours
forth the "soothing oil," that is why he leads forth on a leash a God
whose passion it is to err; it is for the same reason, too, that he
assumes for once the utterly unsuitable rôle of a metaphysical
architect. He does all this, because the noble souls already referred
to are frightened, and because he is too. And it is here that we reach
the limit of his courage, even in the presence of his "We." He does
not dare to be honest, and to tell them, for instance: "I have
liberated you from a helping and pitiful God: the Cosmos is no more
than an inflexible machine; beware of its wheels, that they do not
crush you." He dare not do this. Consequently, he must enlist the help
of a witch, and he turns to metaphysics. To the Philistine, however,
even Strauss's metaphysics is preferable to Christianity's, and the
notion of an erratic God more congenial than that of one who works
miracles. For the Philistine himself errs, but has never yet performed
a miracle. Hence his hatred of the genius; for the latter is justly
famous for the working of miracles. It is therefore highly instructive
to ascertain why Strauss, in one passage alone, suddenly takes up the
cudgels for genius and the aristocracy of intellect in general.
Whatever does he do it for? He does it out of fear--fear of the social
democrat. He refers to Bismarck and Moltke, "whose greatness is the
less open to controversy as it manifests itself in the domain of
tangible external facts. No help for it, therefore; even the most