What says the Fire Chief?40
That when in any way one has what is called a cause, something he earnestly wishes to promote — and then there are others who propose to themselves the task of counteracting it, hindering it, harming it, that he then must take measures against these enemies of his, this everyone is aware of. But not everyone is aware that there is such a thing as honest good-intention which is far more dangerous and as if especially calculated with a view to preventing the cause from becoming truly serious.
When a man suddenly falls ill, well-meaning persons hasten at once to lend aid, one proposes one thing, and one another, if all of them had leave to advise at once, the patient's death would be certain; the wellmeant advice of the individual may in itself be dangerous, in any case their bustling, flurried presence is injurious for the fact that it impedes the physician.
So also in the case of a fire. Hardly is the cry of "Fire!" heard before a crowd of people rush to the spot, nice, cordial, sympathetic, helpful people, one has a pitcher, another a basin, the third a squirt, etc., all of them nice, cordial, sympathetic, helpful people, so eager to help put out the fire.
But what says the Fire Chief ? The Fire Chief, he says — yes, generally the Fire Chief is a very pleasant and polite man; but at a fire he is what one calls coarse-mouthed — he says, or rather he bawls, "Oh, go to hell with all your pitchers and squirts." And then, when these wellmeaning people are perhaps offended and require at least to be treated with respect, what then says the Fire Chief? Yes, generally the Fire Chief is a very pleasant and polite man, who knows how to show everyone the respect that is due him; but at a fire he is rather different — he says, "Where the deuce is the police force?" And when some policemen arrive he says to them, "Rid me of these damn people with their pitchers and squirts; and if they won't yield to fair words, smear them a few over the back, so that we may be free of them and get down to work."
So then at a fire the whole way of looking at things is not the same as in everyday life. Good-natured, honest, well-meaning, by which in everyday life one attains the reputation of being a good fellow, is at a fire honored with coarse words and a few over the back.
And this is quite natural. For a fire is a serious thing, and whenever things are really serious, this honest good-intention by no means suffices. No, seriousness applies an entirely different law: either/or. Either thou art the man who in this instance can seriously do something, and seriously has something to do/or, if such be not thy case, then for thee the serious thing to do is precisely to get out. If by thyself thou wilt not understand this, then let the Fire Chief thrash it into thee by means of the police, from which thou mayest derive particular benefit, and which perhaps may after all contribute to making thee a bit serious, in correspondence with the serious thing which is a fire.
But as it is at a fire, so also it is in matters of the mind. Wherever there is a cause to be promoted, an undertaking to be carried out, an idea to be introduced — one can always be sure that when he who really is the man for it, the right man, who in a higher sense has and must have command, he who has seriousness and can give to the cause the seriousness it truly has — one can always be sure that when he comes (if I may so put it) to the spot, he will find there before him a genial company of twaddlers who under the name of seriousness lie around and bungle things by wanting to serve the cause, promote the undertaking, introduce the idea; a company of twaddlers who of course regard the fact that the person in question will not make common cause with them (precisely indicating his seriousness) as a certain proof that he lacks seriousness. I say, when the right man comes he will find things thus. I can also give this turn to it: the fact that he is the right man is really decided by the way he understands himself in relation to this company of twaddlers. If he has a notion that it is they who are to help, and that he must strengthen himself by union with them, he eo ipso is not the right man. The right man sees at once, like the Fire Chief, that this company of twaddlers must get out, that their presence and effect is the most dangerous assistance the fire could have. But in matters of the mind it is not as at a fire, where the Fire Chief merely has to say to the police, "Rid me of these men."
So it is in all matters of the mind, and so it is also in the religious field. History has so often been compared with what the chemists call a process. The metaphor may be quite suggestive, if only it is understood aright. They speak of a filtering process: water is filtered, and in the process it deposits impure ingredients. It is precisely in an opposite sense that history is a process. The idea is introduced — and with that it enters into the process of history. But unfortunately this does not (as one ludicrously assumes) result in the purification of the idea, which never is purer than in its primary form. No, it results, with steadily increasing momentum, in garbling the idea, in making it hackneyed, trite, in wearing it out, in introducing the impure ingredients which originally were not present (the very opposite of filtering), until at last, by the enthusiastic cooperation and mutual approbation of a series of successive generations the point is reached where the idea is entirely extinguished and the opposite of the idea has become what they now call the idea, and this they maintain has been accomplished by the historical process in which the idea has been purified and refined.
When at last the right man comes, he to whom in the highest sense the task belongs, who perhaps was early selected and slowly educated for this task, which is to let in light upon the affair, to set fire to this wilderness which is the asylum of all twaddle, all illusions, all knavish tricks — when he comes he will already find there before him a company of twaddlers who with cheerful cordiality have a sort of a notion that things are wrong, or are prepared to chatter about things being dreadfully wrong, and to be self-important for chattering about it. In case he, the right man, for a single instant sees amiss and thinks that it is this company that is to be a help, he is eo ipso not the right man. In case he makes a mistake and has anything to do with them, divine governance will instantly let go of him as unfit. But the right man sees with half an eye, as does the Fire Chief, that this company which wellmeaningly would help to put out a fire with pitchers and squirts, that this same company which in the present instance, where it is not a question of extinguishing a fire but precisely of lighting a fire, would lend aid with a sulphur match without the sulphur, or with a damp paper-lighter, must get out, that he must not have the least thing to do with this company, that he must be as coarse-mouthed with them as possible, he who perhaps is usually anything but that. But everything depends upon getting rid of that company; for the effect of it is, in the form of hearty sympathy, to eradicate the real seriousness from the cause. Naturally the company will then rave against him, against this frightful pride,41 etc. But to him this must make no difference. Whereever there truly must be seriousness the law is this: either/or; either I am the one who seriously has to deal with the matter, is thereto called and is absolutely willing to venture decisively/or, if such is not my case, then seriousness is, not to engage in it at all. Nothing is more detestable and more vile, both betraying and bringing about a deeper demoralization, than this: to want to have somehow a little part in that which must be aut / aut; aut Caesar / aut nihil,42 to want to have somehow a little part, and then with good-hearted moderation to prate about it, and so by this prattle to pretend mendaciously that one is better than those who have nothing to do with the whole concern — pretend to be better, and make the thing more difficult for him who properly has the task to do.
Translator's Footnotes
40Cf. the Journal, EP '54-'55, p. 390. Evidently S. K. was embarrassed by his would-be defenders.
41The anonymous article, mentioned above, in the Copenhagen Post of April 3, 1854, says of S. K.: "Such intolerable pride as he has shown in a series of aphoristic articles in the Fatherland one surely has never seen matched in the Danish press."
42The motto of Caesar Borgia. Aut/aut is Latin for either/or.