that life is better than death.  But if the mouse were a German pessimist mouse, he might not think that the cat had beaten him at all.  He might think he had beaten the cat by getting to the grave first.  Or he might feel that he had actually inflicted frightful punishment on the cat by keeping him alive.  Just as a microbe might feel proud of spreading a pestilence, so the pessimistic mouse might exult to think that he was renewing in the cat the torture of conscious existence.  It all depends on the philosophy of the mouse.  You cannot even say that there is victory or superiority in nature unless you have some doctrine about what things are superior.  You cannot even say that the cat scores unless there is a system of scoring.  You cannot even say that the cat gets the best of it unless there is some best to be got.

We cannot, then, get the ideal itself from nature, and as we follow here the first and natural speculation, we will leave out (for the present) the idea of getting it from God.  We must have our own vision.  But the attempts of most moderns to express it are highly vague.

Some fall back simply on the clock:  they talk as if mere passage through time brought some superiority; so that even a man of the first mental calibre carelessly uses the phrase that human morality is never up to date.  How can anything be up to date? a date has no character.  How can one say that Christmas celebrations are not suitable to the twenty-fifth of a month?  What the writer meant, of course, was that the majority is behind his favourite minority—­or in front of it.  Other vague modern people take refuge in material metaphors; in fact, this is the chief mark of vague modern people.  Not daring to define their doctrine of what is good, they use physical figures of speech without stint or shame, and, what is worst of all, seem to think these cheap analogies are exquisitely spiritual and superior to the old morality.  Thus they think it intellectual to talk about things being “high.”  It is at least the reverse of intellectual; it is a mere phrase from a steeple or a weathercock.  “Tommy was a good boy” is a pure philosophical statement, worthy of Plato or Aquinas.  “Tommy lived the higher life” is a gross metaphor from a ten-foot rule.

This, incidentally, is almost the whole weakness of Nietzsche, whom some are representing as a bold and strong thinker.  No one will deny that he was a poetical and suggestive thinker; but he was quite the reverse of strong.  He was not at all bold.  He never put his own meaning before himself in bald abstract words:  as did Aristotle and Calvin, and even Karl Marx, the hard, fearless men of thought.  Nietzsche always escaped a question by a physical metaphor, like a cheery minor poet.  He said, “beyond good and evil,” because he had not the courage to say, “more good than good and evil,” or, “more evil than good and evil.”  Had he faced his thought without metaphors, he would have seen that it was nonsense.