position to suppose that he too regards the universe and life in the
same way. Thus Strauss has seen fulfilled in each of his readers what
he only demanded of the future. In this way, the extraordinary success
of his book is partly explained: "Thus we live and hold on our way in
joy," the scholar cries in his book, and delights to see others
rejoicing over the announcement. If the reader happen to think
differently from the Master in regard to Darwin or to capital
punishment, it is of very little consequence; for he is too conscious
throughout of breathing an atmosphere that is familiar to him, and of
hearing but the echoes of his own voice and wants. However painfully
this unanimity may strike the true friend of German culture, it is his
duty to be unrelenting in his explanation of it as a phenomenon, and
not to shrink from making this explanation public.

We all know the peculiar methods adopted in our own time of
cultivating the sciences: we all know them, because they form a part
of our lives. And, for this very reason, scarcely anybody seems to ask
himself what the result of such a cultivation of the sciences will
mean to culture in general, even supposing that everywhere the highest
abilities and the most earnest will be available for the promotion of
culture. In the heart of the average scientific type (quite
irrespective of the examples thereof with which we meet to-day) there
lies a pure paradox: he behaves like the veriest idler of independent
means, to whom life is not a dreadful and serious business, but a
sound piece of property, settled upon him for all eternity; and it
seems to him justifiable to spend his whole life in answering
questions which, after all is said and done, can only be of interest
to that person who believes in eternal life as an absolute certainty.
The heir of but a few hours, he sees himself encompassed by yawning
abysses, terrible to behold; and every step he takes should recall the