It is in the light of those common elements which constitute the interest and therefore the passions of individuals that these historical men are to be regarded.  They are great men, because they willed and accomplished something great—­not a mere fancy, a mere intention, but whatever met the case and fell in with the needs of the age.  This mode of considering them also excludes the so-called “psychological” view, which, serving the purpose of envy most effectually, contrives so to refer all actions to the heart, to bring them under such a subjective aspect, that their authors appear to have done everything under the impulse of some passion, mean or grand, some morbid craving, and, on account of these passions and cravings, to have been immoral men.  Alexander of Macedon partly subdued Greece, and then Asia; therefore he was possessed by a morbid craving for conquest.  He is alleged to have acted from a craving for fame, for conquest; and the proof that these were the impelling motives is that he did what resulted in fame.  What pedagogue has not demonstrated of Alexander the Great, of Julius Caesar, that they were instigated by such passions, and were consequently immoral men?  From this the conclusion immediately follows that he, the pedagogue, is a better man than they, because he has not such passions—­a proof of which lies in the fact that he does not conquer Asia, or vanquish Darius and Porus, but, while he enjoys life himself, lets others enjoy it too.  These psychologists are particularly fond of contemplating those peculiarities of great historical figures which appertain to them as private persons.  Man must eat and drink; he sustains relations to friends and acquaintances; he has passing impulses and ebullitions of temper.  “No man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre,” is a well-known proverb; I have added—­and Goethe repeated it ten years later—­“but not because the former is no hero, but because the latter is a valet.”  He takes off the hero’s boots, assists him to bed, knows that he prefers champagne, etc.  Historical personages waited upon in historical literature by such psychological valets come poorly off; they are brought down by these their attendants to a level with, or, rather, a few degrees below the level of, the morality of such exquisite discerners of spirits.  The Thersites of Homer who abuses the kings is a standing figure for all times.  Blows—­that is, beating with a solid cudgel—­he does not get in every age, as in the Homeric one; but his envy, his egotism, is the thorn which he has to carry in his flesh; and the undying worm that gnaws him is the tormenting consideration that his excellent views and vituperations remain absolutely without result in the world.  But our satisfaction at the fate of Thersitism also, may have its sinister side.

A world-famous individual is not so unwise as to indulge a variety of wishes to divide his regards.  He is devoted to the one aim, regardless of all else.  It is even possible that such men may treat other great, even sacred interests, inconsiderately—­conduct which is deserving of moral reprehension.  But so mighty a form must trample down many innocent flowers and crush to pieces many an object in its path.