Think, for example, of a Mohammed--not
the real Mohammed of history, concerning whom I confess that I have
no judgment, but the Mohammed of a distinguished French poet--who
had once become firmly convinced that he was one of the extraordinary
natures who are called to guide the obscure and common folk of earth,
and to whom, in consequence of this first presupposition, all his
whims, however meagre and limited they may really be, must necessarily
appear to be great, exalted and inspiring ideas because they are his
own, while everything that opposes them must seem obscure, common
folk, enemies of their own weal, evil-minded, and hateful. Such a man,
in order to justify this self-conceit to himself as a divine vocation,
and entirely absorbed in this thought, must stake everything upon it,
nor can he rest until he has trampled under foot all that will not
think as highly of him as he does himself, or until his own belief in
his divine mission is reflected from the whole contemporary world. I
shall not say what would be his fortunes in case a spiritual vision
that is true and clear within itself should actually come against
him on the field of battle, but he certainly wins from those limited
gamblers, for he hazards everything against those who do not so
hazard; no spirit inspires them, but he is altogether inspired by a
fanatical spirit--that of his mighty and powerful self-conceit.
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