252.  They are not a philosophical race—­the English:  Bacon represents an attack on the philosophical spirit generally, Hobbes, Hume, and Locke, an abasement, and a depreciation of the idea of a “philosopher” for more than a century.  It was against Hume that Kant uprose and raised himself; it was Locke of whom Schelling rightly said, “JE MEPRISE Locke”; in the struggle against the English mechanical stultification of the world, Hegel and Schopenhauer (along with Goethe) were of one accord; the two hostile brother-geniuses in philosophy, who pushed in different directions towards the opposite poles of German thought, and thereby wronged each other as only brothers will do.—­What is lacking in England, and has always been lacking, that half-actor and rhetorician knew well enough, the absurd muddle-head, Carlyle, who sought to conceal under passionate grimaces what he knew about himself:  namely, what was lacking in Carlyle—­real power of intellect, real depth of intellectual perception, in short, philosophy.  It is characteristic of such an unphilosophical race to hold on firmly to Christianity—­they need its discipline for “moralizing” and humanizing.  The Englishman, more gloomy, sensual, headstrong, and brutal than the German—­is for that very reason, as the baser of the two, also the most pious:  he has all the more need of Christianity.  To finer nostrils, this English Christianity itself has still a characteristic English taint of spleen and alcoholic excess, for which, owing to good reasons, it is used as an antidote—­the finer poison to neutralize the coarser:  a finer form of poisoning is in fact a step in advance with coarse-mannered people, a step towards spiritualization.  The English coarseness and rustic demureness is still most satisfactorily disguised by Christian pantomime, and by praying and psalm-singing (or, more correctly, it is thereby explained and differently expressed); and for the herd of drunkards and rakes who formerly learned moral grunting under the influence of Methodism (and more recently as the “Salvation Army"), a penitential fit may really be the relatively highest manifestation of “humanity” to which they can be elevated:  so much may reasonably be admitted.  That, however, which offends even in the humanest Englishman is his lack of music, to speak figuratively (and also literally):  he has neither rhythm nor dance in the movements of his soul and body; indeed, not even the desire for rhythm and dance, for “music.”  Listen to him speaking; look at the most beautiful Englishwoman Walking—­in no country on earth are there more beautiful doves and swans; finally, listen to them singing!  But I ask too much . . .