6/5/2000

From Nietzsche's The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann, p258 (section 329):

Leisure and Idleness — There is something of the American Indians, something of the ferocity peculiar to the Indian blood, in the American lust for gold; and the breathless haste with which they work—the distinctive vice of the new world—is already beginning to infect old Europe with its ferocity and is spreading a lack of spirituality like a blanket. Even now one is ashamed of resting, and prolonged reflection almost gives people a bad conscience. One thinks with a watch in one's hand, even as one eats one's midday meal while reading the latest news of the stock market; one lives as if one always "might miss out on something". "Rather do anything than nothing": this principle, too, is merely a string to throttle all culture and good taste. Just as all forms are visibly perishing by the haste of the workers, the feeling for form itself, the ear and eye for the melody of movements are also perishing. The proof of this may be found in the universal demand for gross obviousness in all those situations in which human beings wish to be honest with one another for once—in their associations with friends, women, relatives, children, teachers, pupils, leaders, and princes: one no longer has time or energy for ceremonies, for being obliging in an indirect way, for esprit in conversation, and for any otium [leisure] at all. Living in a constant chase after gain compels people to exhaust their spirit to the point of exhaustion in continual pretense and overreaching and anticipating others. Virtue has come to consist of doing something in less time than someone else. Hours in which honesty is permitted have become rare, and when they arrive one is tired and does not only want to "let oneself go" but actually wishes to stretch out as long and as wide and ungainly as one happens to be. This is how people now write letters, and the style and spirit of letters will always be the true "sign of the times".

  If sociability and the arts still offer any delight, it is the kind of delight that slaves, weary of their work, devise for themselves. How frugal our educated—and uneducated—people have become regarding "joy"! How they are becoming increasingly suspicious of all joy! More and more, work enlists all good conscience on its side; the desire for joy already calls itself a "need to recuperate" and is beginning to be ashamed of itself. "One owes it to one's health"—that is what people say when they are caught on an excursion into the country. Soon we may well reach the point where people can no longer give in to the desire for a vita contemplativa (that is, taking a walk with ideas and friends) without self-contempt and a bad conscience.

  Well, formerly it was the other way around: it was work that was afflicted with the bad conscience. A person of good family used to conceal the fact that he was working if need compelled him to work. Slaves used to work, oppressed by the feeling that they were doing something contempible: "doing" itself was contemptible. "Nobility and honor are attached solely to otium and bellum", that was the ancient prejudice.

This was written circa 1887. Sound familiar?
posted 10:12 AM

6/4/2000

OK, I finally had a chance to read some of Seamus Heaney's Opened Ground, particularly the section from the Irish epic Buile Suibhne, and it reminded me of At Swim-Two-Birds, Flann O'Brien's masterpiece. Turns out that Mister Miles na gCopaleen includes vast tracts of his own translations of the same epic in his work. I'm not sure who I like better. Yet.
posted 2:09 AM