[5]This not only refers toHeroes and Hero-Worship,but doubtless to Carlyle's prodigious misunderstanding of Goethe a misunderstanding which still requires to be put right by a critic untainted by Puritanism.—Tr.
[5]This not only refers toHeroes and Hero-Worship,but doubtless to Carlyle's prodigious misunderstanding of Goethe a misunderstanding which still requires to be put right by a critic untainted by Puritanism.—Tr.
969.
Generally speaking, everythingis worth no more and no less than one has paid for it.This of course does not hold good in the case of an isolated individual; the great capacities of the individual have no relation whatsoever to that which he has done, sacrificed, and suffered for them. But if one should examine the previous history of his race one would be sure to find the record of an extraordinary storing up and capitalising of power by means of all kinds of abstinence, struggle, industry, and determination. It is because the great man has cost so much, and not because he stands there as a miracle, as a gift from heaven, or as an accident, that he became great: "Heredity" is a false notion. A man's ancestors have always paid the price of what he is.
970.
The danger of modesty.To adapt ourselves too early to duties, societies, and daily schemes of work in which accident may have placed us, at a time when neither our powers nor our aim in life has stepped peremptorily into our consciousness;the premature certainty of conscience and feeling of relief and of sociability which is acquired by this precocious, modest attitude, and which appears to our minds as a deliverance from those inner and outer disturbances of our feelings—all this pampers and keeps a man down in the most dangerous fashion imaginable. To learn to respect things which people about us respect, as if we had no standard or right of our own to determine values; the strain of appraising things as others appraise them,counterto the whisperings of our inner taste, which also has a conscience of its own, becomes a terribly subtle kind of constraint: and if in the end no explosion takes place which bursts all the bonds of love and morality at once, then such a spirit becomes withered, dwarfed, feminine, and objective. The reverse of this is bad enough, but still it is better than the foregoing: to suffer from one's environment, from its praise just as much as from its blame; to be wounded by it and to fester inwardly without betraying the fact; to defend one's self involuntarily and suspiciously against its love; to learn to be silent, and perchance to conceal this by talking; to create nooks and safe, lonely hiding-places where one can go and take breath for a moment, or shed tears of sublime comfort—until at last one has grown strong enough to say: "What on earth have I to do with you?" and to goone'sway alone.
971.
Those men who are in themselves destinies, and whose advent is the advent of fate, the whole race ofheroicbearers of burdens: oh! how heartily and gladly would they have respite from themselves for once in a while!—how they crave after stout hearts and shoulders, that they might free themselves, were it but for an hour or two, from that which oppresses them! And how fruitlessly they crave! ... They wait; they observe all that passes before their eyes: no man even cometh nigh to them with a thousandth part of their suffering and passion, no man guesseth to what end they have waited.... At last, at last, they learn the first lesson of their life: to wait no longer; and forthwith they learn their second lesson: to be affable, to be modest; and from that time onwards to endure everybody and every kind of thing—in short, to endure still a little more than they had endured theretofore.
6. The Highest Man as Lawgiver of the Future.
972.
The lawgivers of the future.—After having tried for a long time in vain to attach a particular meaning to the word "philosopher,"—for I found many antagonistic traits, I recognised that we can distinguish between two kinds of philosophers:—
(1) Those who desire to establish any large system of values (logical or moral);
(2) Those who are thelawgiversof such valuations.
The former try to seize upon the world of the present or the past, by embodying or abbreviatingthe multifarious phenomena by means of signs: their object is to make it possible for us to survey, to reflect upon, to comprehend, and to utilise everything that has happened hitherto—they serve the purpose of man by using all past things to the benefit of his future.
The second class, however, arecommanders;they say: "Thus shall it be!" They alone determine the "whither" and the "wherefore," and that which will be useful and beneficial to man; they have command over the previous work of scientific men, and all knowledge is to them only a means to their creations. This second kind of philosopher seldom appears; and as a matter of fact their situation and their danger is appalling. How often have they not intentionally blindfolded their eyes in order to shut out the sight of the small strip of ground which separates them from the abyss and from utter destruction. Plato, for instance, when he persuaded himself that "the good," as he wanted it, was not Plato's good, but "the good in itself," the eternal treasure which a certain man of the name of Plato had chanced to find on his way! This same will to blindness prevails in a much coarser form in the case of the founders of religion; their "Thou shalt" must on no account sound to their ears like "I will,"—they only dare to pursue their task as if under the command of God; their legislation of values can only be a burden they can bear if they regard it as "revelation," in this way their conscience is not crushed by the responsibility.
As soon as those two comforting expedients—that of Plato and that of Muhammed—have been overthrown, and no thinker can any longer relieve his conscience with the hypothesis "God" or "eternal values," the claim of the lawgiver to determine new values rises to an awfulness which has not yet been experienced. Now those elect, on whom the faint light of such a duty is beginning to dawn, try and see whether they cannot escape it—as their greatest danger—by means of a timely side-spring: for instance, they try to persuade themselves that their task is already accomplished, or that it defies accomplishment, or that their shoulders are not broad enough for such burdens, or that they are already taken up with burdens closer to hand, or even that this new and remote duty is a temptation and a seduction, drawing them away from all other duties; a disease, a kind of madness. Many, as a matter of fact, do succeed in evading the path appointed to them: throughout the whole of history we can see the traces of such deserters and their guilty consciences. In most cases,, however, there comes to such men of destiny that hour of delivery, that autumnal season of maturity, in which they are forced to do that which they did not even "wish to do": and that deed before which in the past they have trembled most, falls easily and unsought from the tree, as an involuntary deed, almost as a present.
973.
The human horizon.—Philosophers may be conceived as men who make the greatest efforts todiscoverto what extent man canelevatehimself—this holds good more particularly of Plato: how far man'spowercan extend. But they do this as individuals; perhaps the instinct of Cæsars and of all founders of states, etc., was greater, for it preoccupied itself with the question how far man could be urged forward indevelopmentunder "favourable circumstances." What they did not sufficiently understand, however, was the nature of favourable circumstances. The great question: "Where has the plant 'man' grown most magnificently heretofore? In order to answer this, a comparative study of history is necessary.
974.
Every fact and every work exercises a fresh persuasion over every age and every new species of man. History always enunciates new truths.
975.
To remain objective, severe, firm, and hard while making a thought prevail is perhaps the best forte of artists; but if for this purpose any one have to work upon human material (as teachers, statesmen, have to do, etc.), then the repose, the coldness, and the hardness soon vanish. In natures like Cæsar and Napoleon we are able to divine something of the nature of "disinterestedness" in their work on their marble, whatever be the number of men that are sacrificed in the process. In this direction the future of higher men lies: to bear the greatest responsibilities and not to go to rack and ruinthrough them.—Hitherto the deceptions of inspiration have almost always been necessary for a man not to lose faith in his own hand, and in his right to his task.
976.
The reason why philosophers are mostly failures. Because among the conditions which determine them there are qualities which generally ruin other men:—
(1) A philosopher must have an enormous multiplicity of qualities; he must be a sort of abbreviation of man and have all man's high and base desires: the danger of the contrast within him, and of the possibility of his loathing himself;
(2) He must be inquisitive in an extraordinary number of ways: the danger of versatility;
(3) He must be just and honest in the highest sense, but profound both in love and hate (and in injustice);
(4) He must not only be a spectator but a lawgiver: a judge and defendant (in so far as he is an abbreviation of the world);
(5) He must be extremely multiform and yet firm and hard. He must be supple.
977.
The reallyregalcalling of the philosopher (according to the expression of Alcuin the Anglo-Saxon): "Prava corrigere, et recta corroborare, et sancta sublimare."
978.
The new philosopher can only arise in conjunction with a ruling class, as the highest spiritualisation of the latter. Great politics, the rule of the earth, as a proximate contingency, the totallack of principlesnecessary thereto.
979.
Fundamental concept: the new values must first be created—this remainsour duty! The philosopher must be our lawgiver. New species. (How the greatest species hitherto [for instance, the Greeks] were reared: this kind of accident must now beconsciouslystriven for.)
980.
Supposing one thinks of the philosopher as an educator who, looking down from his lonely elevation, is powerful enough to draw long chains of generations up to him: then he must be granted the most terrible privileges of a great educator. An educator never says what he himself thinks; but only that which he thinks it is good for those whom he is educating to hear upon any subject. This dissimulation on his part must not be found out; it is part of his masterliness that people should believe in his honesty, he must be capable of all the means of discipline and education: there are some natures which he will only be able to raise by means of lashing them with his scorn; others who are lazy, irresolute, cowardly, and vain, he willbe able to affect only with exaggerated praise. Such a teacher stands beyond good and evil, but nobody must know that he does.
981.
We mustnotmake men "better," we mustnottalk to them about morality in any form as if "morality in itself," or an ideal kind of man in general, could be taken for granted; but we mustcreate circumstancesin whichstronger men are necessary,such as for their part will require a morality (or, better still: a bodily and spiritual discipline) which makes men strong, and upon which they will consequently insist! As they will need one so badly, they will have it.
We must not let ourselves be seduced by blue eyes and heaving breasts:greatness of soul has absolutely nothing romantic about it. And unfortunately nothing whatever amiable either.
982.
From warriors we must learn: (1) to associate death with those interests for which we are fighting—that makes us venerable; (2) we must learn tosacrificenumbers, and to take our cause sufficiently seriously not to spare men; (3) we must practise inexorable discipline, and allow ourselves violence and cunning in war.
983.
Theeducationwhich rears thoserulingvirtues that allow a man to become master of his benevolenceand his pity: the great disciplinary virtues ("Forgive thine enemies" is mere child's play beside them),and the passions of the creator, must be elevatedto the heights—we must cease from carving marble! The exceptional and powerful position of those creatures (compared with that of all princes hitherto): the Roman Cæsar with Christ's soul.
984.
We must not separate greatness of soul from intellectual greatness. For the former involvesindependence; but without intellectual greatness independence should not be allowed; all it does is to create disasters even in its lust of well-doing and of practising "justice." Inferior spiritsmustobey, consequently they cannot be possessed of greatness.
985.
The more lofty philosophical man who is surrounded by loneliness, not because he wishes to be alone, but because he is what he is, and cannot find his equal: what a number of dangers and torments are reserved for him, precisely at the present time, when we have lost our belief in the order of rank, and consequently no longer know how to understand or honour this isolation! Formerly the sage almost sanctified himself in the consciences of the mob by going aside in this way; to-day the anchorite sees himself as though enveloped in a cloud of gloomy doubt and suspicions. And not alone by theenvious and the wretched: in every well-meant act that he experiences he is bound to discover misunderstanding, neglect, and superficiality. He knows the crafty tricks of foolish pity which makes these people feel so good and holy when they attempt to save him from his own destiny, by giving him more comfortable situations and more decent and reliable society. Yes, he will even get to admire the unconscious lust of destruction with which all mediocre spirits stand up and oppose him, believing all the while that they have a holy right to do so! For men of such incomprehensible loneliness it is necessary to put a good stretch of country between them and the officiousness of their fellows: this is part of their prudence. For such a man to maintain himself uppermost to-day amid the dangerous maelstroms of the age which threaten to draw him under, even cunning and disguise will be necessary. Every attempt he makes to order his life in the present and with the present, every time he draws near to these men and their modern desires, he will have to expiate as if it were an actual sin: and withal he may look with wonder at the concealed wisdom of his nature, which after every one of these attempts immediately leads him back to himself by means of illnesses and painful accidents.
986.
"Maledetto coluiche contrista, un spirto immortal!"MANZONI(Conte di Carmagnola,Act II.)
987.
The most difficult and the highest form which man can attain is the most seldom successful: thus the history of philosophy reveals a superabundance of bungled and unhappy cases of manhood, and its march is an extremely slow one; whole centuries intervene and suppress what has been achieved: and in this way the connecting-link is always made to fail. It is an appalling history, this history of the highest men, of the sages.—What is most often damaged is precisely the recollection of great men, for the semi-successful and botched cases of mankind misunderstand them and overcome them by their "successes." Whenever an "effect" is noticeable, the masses gather in a crowd round it; to hear the inferior and the poor in spirit having their say is a terrible ear-splitting torment for him who knows and trembles at the thought, that the fate of man depends upon the success of its highest types. From the days of my childhood I have reflected upon the sage's conditions of existence, and I will not conceal my happy conviction that in Europe he has once more become possible—perhaps only for a short time.
988.
These new philosophers begin with a description of a systematic order of rank and difference of value among men,—what they desire is, alas precisely the reverse of an assimilation and equalisation of man: they teach estrangementin every sense, they cleave gulfs such as have never yet existed, and they would fain have man become more evil than he ever was. For the present they live concealed and estranged even from each other. For many reasons they will find it necessary to be anchorites and to wear masks—they will therefore be of little use in the matter of seeking for their equals. They will live alone, and probably know the torments of all the loneliest forms of loneliness. Should they, however, thanks to any accident, meet each other on the road, I wager that they would not know each other, or that they would deceive each other in a number of ways.
989.
"Les philosophes ne sont pas faits pour s'aimer. Les aigles ne volent point en compagnie. Il faut laisser cela aux perdrix, aux étourneaux ... Planer au-dessus et avoir des griffes, voila le lot des grands génies."—GALIANI.
990.
I forgot to say that such philosophers are cheerful, and that they like to sit in the abyss of a perfectly clear sky: they are in need of different means for enduring life than other men; for they suffer in a different way (that is to say, just as much from the depth of their contempt of man as from their love of man).—The animal which suffered most on earth discovered for itself—laughter.
991.
Concerning the misunderstanding of "cheerfulness."—It is a temporary relief from long tension; it is the wantonness, the Saturnalia of a spirit, which is consecrating and preparing itself for long and terrible resolutions. The "fool" in the form of "science."
992.
The new order of rank among spirits; tragic natures no longer in the van.
993.
It is a comfort to me to know that over the smoke and filth of human baseness there is ahigher and brightermankind, which, judging from their number, must be a small race (for everything that is in any way distinguished isipso factorare). A man does not belong to this race because he happens to be more gifted, more virtuous, more heroic, or more loving than the men below, but because he iscolder, brighter, more far-sighted, and more lonely;because he endures, prefers, and even insists upon, loneliness as the joy, the privilege, yea, even the condition of existence; because he lives amid clouds and lightnings as among his equals, and likewise among sunrays, dewdrops, snowflakes, and all that which must needs come from the heights, and which in its course moves ever from heaven to earth. The desire to look aloft is not our desire.—Heroes, martyrs, geniuses, and enthusiasts of allkinds, are not quiet, patient, subtle, cold, or slow enough for us.
994.
The absolute conviction that valuations above and below are different; that innumerable experiences are wanting to the latter: that when looking upwards from below misunderstandings are necessary.
995.
How do men attain to great power and to great tasks? All the virtues and proficiences of the body and the soul are little by little laboriously acquired, through great industry, self-control, and keeping one's self within narrow bounds, through a frequent, energetic, and genuine repetition of the same work and of the same hardships; but there are men who are the heirs and masters of this slowly acquired and manifold treasure of virtues and proficiences because, owing to happy and reasonable marriages and also to lucky accidents, the acquired and accumulated forces of many generations, instead of being squandered and subdivided, have been assembled together by means of steadfast struggling and willing. And thus, in the end, a man appears who is such a monster of strength, that he craves for a monstrous task. For it is our power which has command of us: and the wretched intellectual play of aims and intentions and motivations lies only in the foreground—however much weak eyes may recognise the principal factors in these things.
990.
The sublime man has the highest value, even when he is most delicate and fragile, because an abundance of very difficult and rare things have been reared through many generations and united in him.
997.
I teach that there are higher and lower men, and that a single individual may under certain circumstances justify whole millenniums of existence —that is to say, a wealthier, more gifted, greater, and more complete man, as compared with innumerable imperfect and fragmentary men.
998.
Away from rulers and rid of all bonds, live the highest men: and in the rulers they have their instruments.
999.
The order of rank:he whodeterminesvalues and leads the will of millenniums, and does this by leading the highest natures—heis the highest man.
1000.
I fancy I have divined some of the things that lie hidden in the soul of the highest man; perhaps every man who has divined so much must go to ruin: but he who has seen the highest man must do all he can to make himpossible.Fundamental thought: we must make the future the standard of all our valuations—and not seek the laws for our conduct behind us.
1001.
Not "mankind," butSupermanis the goal!
1002.
"Come l'uom s'eterna...."—Inf.xv. 85.
1003.
Tohim who is one of Nature's lucky strokes,to, him unto whom my heart goes out, to him who is carved from one integral block, which is hard, sweet, and fragrant—to him from whom even my nose can derive some pleasure—let this book be dedicated.
He enjoys that which is beneficial to him.
His pleasure in anything ceases when the limits of what is beneficial to him are overstepped.
He divines the remedies for partial injuries; his illnesses are the great stimulants of his existence.
He understands how to exploit his serious accidents.
He grows stronger under the misfortunes which threaten to annihilate him.
He instinctively gathers from all he sees, hears, and experiences, the materials for what concerns him most,—he pursues a selective principle,—he rejects a good deal.
He reacts with that tardiness which long cautionand deliberatepridehave bred in him,—he tests the stimulus: whence does it come? whither does it lead? He does not submit.
He is always in his own company, whether his intercourse be with books, with men, or with Nature.
He honours anything by choosing it, by conceding to it, by trusting it.
1004.
We should attain to such a height, to such a lofty eagle's ledge, in our observation, as to be able to understand that everything happens,just as it ought to happen: and that all "imperfection," and the pain it brings, belong to all that which is most eminently desirable.
1005.
Towards 1876 I experienced a fright; for I saw that everything I had most wished for up to that time was being compromised. I realised this when I perceived what Wagner was actually driving at: and I was bound very fast to him—by all the bonds of a profound similarity of needs, by gratitude, by the thought that he could not be replaced, and by the absolute void which I saw facing me.
Just about this time I believed myself to be inextricably entangled in my philology and my professorship—in the accident and last shift of my life: I did not know how to get out of it, and was tired, used up, and on my last legs.
At about the same time I realised that what my instincts most desired to attain was precisely the reverse of what Schopenhauer's instincts wanted—that is to say, ajustification of life,even where it was most terrible, most equivocal, and most false: to this end, I had the formula "Dionysian" in my hand.
Schopenhauer's interpretation of the "absolute" aswillwas certainly a step towards that concept of the "absolute" which supposed it to be necessarily good, blessed, true, and integral, but Schopenhauer did not understand how to deify this will: he remained suspended in the moral-Christian ideal. Indeed, he was still so very much under the dominion of Christian values, that, once he could no longer regard the absolute as God, he had to conceive it as evil, foolish, utterly reprehensible. He did not realise that there is an infinite number of ways of being different, and even of being God.
1006.
Hitherto, moral values have been the highest values: does anybody doubt this? If we bring down the values from their pedestal, we thereby alterallvalues; the principle of theirorder of rankwhich has prevailed hitherto is thus overthrown.
1007.
Transvalue values—what does this mean? It implies that all spontaneous motives, all new,future, and stronger motives, are still extant; but that they now appear under false names and false valuations, and have not yet become conscious of themselves.
We ought to have the courage to become, conscious, and to affirm all that which has beenattained—to get rid of the humdrum character of old valuations, which makes us unworthy of the best and strongest things that we have achieved.
1008.
Any doctrine would be superfluous for which everything is not already prepared in the way of accumulated forces and explosive material. A transvaluation of values can only be accomplished when there is a tension of new needs, and a new set of needy people who feel all old values as painful,—although they are not conscious of what is wrong.
1009.
The standpoint from which my values are determined: is abundance or desire active? ... Is one a mere spectator, or is one's own shoulder at the wheel—is one looking away or is one turning aside? ... Is one acting spontaneously, as the result of accumulated strength, or is one merely reacting to a goad or to a stimulus? ... Is one simply acting as the result of a paucity of elements, or of such an overwhelming dominion over a host of elements that this power enlists the latter into its service if it requires them? ... Is one aproblemone's self or is one asolutionalready? ... Isone perfectthrough the smallness of the task, orimperfectowing to the extraordinary character of the aim? ... Is one genuine or only anactor;is one genuine as an actor, or only the bad copy of an actor? is one a representative or the creature represented? Is one a personality or merely a rendezvous of personalities? ... Is one ill from a disease or from surplus health? Does one lead as a shepherd, or as an "exception" (third alternative: as a fugitive)? Is one in need of dignity, or can one play the clown? Is one in search of resistance, or is one evading it? Is one imperfect owing to one's precocity or to one's tardiness? Is it one's nature to say yea, or no, or is one a peacock's tail of garish parts? Is one proud enough not to feel ashamed even of one's vanity? Is one still able to feel a bite of conscience (this species is becoming rare; formerly conscience had to bite too often: it is as if it now no longer had enough teeth to do so)? Is one still capable of a "duty"? (there are some people who would lose the whole joy of their lives if they weredeprivedof their duty—this holds good especially of feminine creatures, who are born subjects).
1010.
Supposing our common comprehension of the universe were amisunderstanding,would it be possible to conceive of a form ofperfection,within the limits of which even such amisunderstanding as thiscould be sanctioned?
The concept of anewform of perfection: thatwhich doesnotcorrespond to our logic, to our "beauty," to our "good," to our "truth," might be perfect in ahighersense even than our ideal is.
1011.
Our most important limitation: we must not deify the unknown; we are just beginning to know so little. The false and wasted endeavours.
Our "new world": we must ascertain to what extent we are thecreatorsof our valuations—we will thus be able to put "sense" into history.
This belief in truth is reaching its final logical conclusion in us—ye know how it reads: that if there is anything at all that must be worshipped it isappearance;thatfalsehoodandnottruth is—divine.
1012.
He who urges rational thought forward, thereby also drives its antagonistic power—mysticism and foolery of every kind—to new feats of strength.
We should recognise that every movement is (1)partlythe manifestation of fatigue resulting from a previous movement (satiety after it, the malice of weakness towards it, and disease); and (2)partlya newly awakened accumulation of long slumbering forces, and therefore wanton, violent, healthy.
1013.
Health and morbidness: let us be careful! The standard is the bloom of the body, the agility, courage, and cheerfulness of the mind—but also, ofcourse, how muchmorbidness a man can bear and overcome,—and convert into health. That which would send more delicate natures to the dogs, belongs to the stimulating means ofgreathealth.
1014.
It is only a question of power: to have all the morbid traits of the century, but to balance them I by means of overflowing, plastic, and rejuvenating power. Thestrongman.
1015.
Concerning the strength of the nineteenth century.—We are more mediæval than the eighteenth century; not only more inquisitive or more susceptible to the strange and to the rare. We have revolted against theRevolution,... We have freed ourselves from the fear of reason, which was the spectre of the eighteenth century: we once more dare to be childish, lyrical, absurd, in a word, we are musicians. And we are just as little frightened of theridiculousas of theabsurd.Thedevilfinds that he is tolerated even by God:[6]better still, he has become interesting as one who has been misunderstood and slandered for ages,—we are the saviours of the devil's honour.
We no longer separate the great from the terrible. We reconcile good things, in all their complexity,with the veryworstthings; we have overcome thedesideratumof the past (which wanted goodness to grow without the increase of evil). Thecowardicetowards the ideal, peculiar to the Renaissance, has diminished—we even dare to aspire to the latter's morality.Intolerancetowards priests and the Church has at the same time come to an end; "It is immoral to believe in God"—but this is precisely what we regard as the best possible justification of this belief.
On all these things we have conferred the civic rights of our minds. We do not tremble before the back side of "good things" (we even look for it, we are brave and inquisitive enough for that), of Greek antiquity, of morality, of reason, of good taste, for instance (we reckon up the losses which we incur with all this treasure: we almost reduce ourselves to poverty with such a treasure). Neither do we conceal the back side of "evil things" from ourselves.
[6]This is reminiscent of Goethe'sFaust,See "Prologue in Heaven."—Tr.
[6]This is reminiscent of Goethe'sFaust,See "Prologue in Heaven."—Tr.
1016.
That which does us honour.—If anything does us honour, it is this: we have transferred our seriousness to other things; all those things which have been despised and laid aside as base by all ages, we regard as important—on the other hand, we surrender "fine feelings" at a cheap rate.
Could any aberration be more dangerous than the contempt of the body? As if all intellectuality were not thereby condemned to become morbid, and to take refuge in thevapeursof "idealism"!
Nothing that has been thought out by Christiansand idealists holds water: we are more radical. We have discovered the "smallest world" everywhere as the most decisive.
The paving-stones in the streets, good air in our rooms, food understood according to its worth: we value all thenecessariesof life seriously, anddespiseall "beautiful soulfulness" as a form of "levity and frivolity." That which has been most despised hitherto, is now pressed into the front rank.
1017
In the place of Rousseau's "man of Nature," the nineteenth century has discovered a muchmore genuineimage of "Man,"—it had the courage to do this.... On the whole, the Christian concept of man has in a way been reinstalled. What we have not had the courage to do, was to call precisely this "manpar excellence," good, and to see the future of mankind guaranteed in him. In the same way, we did not dare to regard thegrowth in the terrible sideof man's character as an accompanying feature of every advance in culture; in this sense we are still under the influence of the Christian ideal, and side with it against paganism, and likewise against the Renaissance concept ofvirtù.But the key of culture is not to be found in this way: andin praxiwe still have the forgeries of history in favour of the "good man" (as if he alone constituted the progress of humanity) and thesocialistic ideal (i.e.theresidueof Christianity and of Rousseau in the de-Christianised world).
The fight against the eighteenth century:it meets with itsgreatest conquerorsinGoetheandNapoleon.Schopenhauer, too, fights against the eighteenth century; but he returns involuntarily to the seventeenth—he is a modern Pascal, with Pascalian valuations,withoutChristianity. Schopenhauer was not strong enough to invent anew yea.
Napoleon:we see the necessary relationship between the higher and the terrible man. "Man" reinstalled, and her due of contempt and fear restored to woman. Highest activity and health are the signs of the great man; the straight line and grand style rediscovered in action; the mightiest of all instincts, that of life itself,—the lust of dominion,—heartily welcomed.
1018.
(Revue des deux mondes,15th February 1887. Taine concerning Napoleon) "Suddenly the master faculty reveals itself: theartist,which was latent in the politician, comes forth from his scabbard; he createsdans l'idéal et l'impossible.He is once more recognised as that which he is: the posthumous brother of Dante and of Michelangelo; and verily, in view of the definite contours of his vision, the intensity, the coherence, and inner consistency of his dream, the depth of his meditations, the superhuman greatness of his conception, he is their equal:son génie a la même taille et la même structure; il est un des trois esprits souverains de la renaissance italienne."
Nota bene.Dante, Michelangelo, Napoleon.
1019.
Concerning the pessimism of strength.In the internal economy ofthe primitiveman's soul, thefearof evil preponderates. What isevil!Three kinds of things: accident, uncertainty, the unexpected. How does primitive man combat evil?—He conceives it as a thing of reason, of power, even as a person. By this means he is enabled to make treaties with it, and generally to operate upon it in advance—to forestall it.
—Another expedient is to declare its evil and harmful character to be but apparent: the consequences of accidental occurrences, and of uncertainty and the unexpected, are interpreted aswell-meant,as reasonable.
—A third means is to interpret evil, above all, as merited: evil is thus justified as a punishment.
—In short,man submits to inall religious and moral interpretations are but forms of submission to evil.—The belief that a good purpose lies behind all evil, implies the renunciation of any desire to combat it.
Now, the history of every culture shows a diminution of thisfear of the accidental, of the uncertain, and of the unexpected.Culture means precisely, to learn to reckon, to discover causes, to acquire the power of forestalling events, to acquire a belief in necessity. With the growth of culture, man is able to dispense with that primitive form of submission to evil (called religion or morality), and that "justification of evil." Now he wages war against "evil,"—he gets rid of it. Yes, a state ofsecurity, of belief in law and the possibility of calculation, is possible, in which consciousness regards these things with tedium,—in which the joy of the accidental, of the uncertain, and of the unexpected, actually becomes a spur.
Let us halt a moment before this symptom ofhighestculture, I call it thepessimism of strength.Man now no longer requires a "justification of evil"; justification is precisely what he abhors: he enjoys evil,pur, cru; he regards purposeless evil as the most interesting kind of evil. If he had required a God in the past, he now delights in cosmic disorder without a God, a world of accident, to the essence of which terror, ambiguity, and seductiveness belong.
In a state of this sort, it is preciselygoodnesswhich requires to be justified—that is to say, it must either have an evil and a dangerous basis, or else it must contain a vast amount of stupidity:in which case it still pleases.Animality no longer awakens terror now; a very intellectual and happy wanton spirit in favour of the animal in man, is, in such periods, the most triumphant form of spirituality. Man is now strong enough to be able to feel ashamed ofa belief in God:he may now play the part of the devil's advocate afresh. If in practice he pretends to uphold virtue, it will be for those reasons which lead virtue to be associated with subtlety, cunning, lust of gain, and a form of the lust of power.
This pessimism of strengthalso ends in atheodicy, i.e.in an absolute saying of yea to the world—but the same arguments will be raised in favour oflife which formerly were raised against it: and in this way, in a conception of this worldas the highest ideal possible,which has been effectively attained.
1020.
The principal kinds of pessimism:—
The pessimism ofsensitiveness(excessive irritability with a preponderance of the feelings of pain).
The pessimism of thewill that is not free(otherwise expressed: the lack of resisting power against stimuli).
The pessimism ofdoubt(shyness in regard to everything fixed, in regard to all grasping and touching).
The psychological conditions which belong to these different kinds of pessimism, may all be observed in a lunatic asylum, even though they are there found in a slightly exaggerated form. The same applies to "Nihilism" (the penetrating feeling of nonentity).
What, however, is the nature of Pascal's moral pessimism, and themetaphysical pessimismof the Vedânta-Philosophy? What is the nature of thesocial pessimismof anarchists (as of Shelley), and of the pessimism of compassion (like that of Leo Tolstoy and of Alfred de Vigny)?
Are all these things not also the phenomena of decay and sickness?... And is not excessive seriousness in regard to moral values, or in regard to "other-world" fictions, or social calamities, orsufferingin general, of the same order? All suchexaggerationof a single and narrow standpoint isin itself a sign of sickness. The same applies to the preponderance of a negative over an affirmative attitude!
In this respect we must not confound with the above:the joy of saying and doingno,which is the result of the enormous power and tenseness of an affirmative attitude—peculiar to all rich and mighty men and ages. It is, as it were, a luxury, a form of courage too, which opposes the terrible, which has sympathy with the frightful and the questionable, because, among other things, one is terrible and questionable: theDionysianin will, intellect, and taste.
1021.
My Five "Noes."
(1) My fight againstthe feeling of sinand the introduction of the notion ofpunishmentinto the physical and metaphysical world, likewise into psychology and the interpretation of history. The recognition of the fact that all philosophies and valuations hitherto have been saturated with morality.
(2) My identification and my discovery of thetraditionalideal, of the Christian ideal, even where the dogmatic form of Christianity has been wrecked. Thedanger of the Christian idealresides in its valuations, in that which can dispense with concrete expression: my struggle againstlatent Christianity(for instance, in music, in Socialism).
(3) My struggle against the eighteenth century of Rousseau, against his "Nature," against his "goodman," his belief in the dominion of feeling—against the pampering, weakening, and moralising of man: an ideal born of thehatred of aristocratic culture,which in practice is the dominion of unbridled feelings of resentment, and invented as a standard for the purpose of war (the Christian morality of the feeling of sin, as well as the morality of resentment, is an attitude of the mob).
(4) My fight againstRomanticism,in which the ideals of Christianity and of Rousseau converge, but which possesses at the same time a yearning for thatantiquitywhich knew of sacerdotal and aristocratic culture, a yearning forvirtù,and for the "strong man"—something extremely hybrid; a false and imitated kind ofstrongerhumanity, which appreciates extreme conditions in general and sees the symptom of strength in them ("the cult of passion"; an imitation of the most expressiveforms, furore espressivo,originating not out of plenitude, but outof want).—(In the nineteenth century there are some things which are born out of relative plenitude—i.e.out ofwell-being;cheerful music, etc.—among poets, for instance, Stifter and Gottfried Keller give signs of more strength and inner well-being than—. The great strides of engineering, of inventions, of the natural sciences and of history (?) are relative products of the strength and self-reliance of the nineteenth century.)
(5) My struggle against thepredominance of gregarious instincts,now science makes common cause with them; against the profound hate with which every kind of order of rank and of aloofness is treated.
1022.
From the pressure of plenitude, from the tension of forces that are continually increasing within us and which cannot yet discharge themselves, a condition is produced which is very similar to that which precedes a storm: we—like Nature's sky—become overcast. I hat, too, is "pessimism.".. A teaching which puts an end to such a condition by the fact that itcommandssomething: a transvaluation of values by means of which the accumulated forces are given a channel, a direction, so that they explode into deeds and flashes of lightning-does not in the least require to be a hedonistic teaching: in so far as itreleases strengthwhich was compressed to an agonising degree, it brings happiness.
1023.
Pleasureappears with the feeling of power.
Happinessmeans that the consciousness of power and triumph has begun to prevail.
Progressis the strengthening of the type, the ability to exercise great will-power, everything else is a misunderstanding and a danger.
1024.
There comes a time when the old masquerade and moral togging-up of the passions provokes repugnance:naked Nature;when thequantaofpowerare recognised asdecidedlysimple (asdetermining rank); whengrand styleappears again as the result of great passion.
1025.
The purpose of culturewould haveus enlist everything terrible, step by step and experimentally, into its service; but before it isstrong enoughfor this it must combat, moderate, mask, and even curse everything terrible.
Wherever a culture points to anything as evil, it betrays itsfearand therefore weakness.
Thesis:everything good is the evil of yore which has been rendered serviceable.Standard:the more terrible and the greater the passions may be which an age, a people, and an individual are at liberty to possess, because they are able to use them asa means, the higher is their culture:the more mediocre, weak, submissive, and cowardly a man may be, the more things he will regard asevil:according to him the kingdom of evil is the largest. The lowest man will see the kingdom of evil (i.e.that which is forbidden him and which is hostile to him) everywhere.
1026.
It is not a fact that "happiness follows virtue"—but it is the mighty man who firstdeclares his happy state to be virtue.
Evil actions belong to the mighty and the virtuous: bad and base actions belong to the subjected.
The mightiest man, the creator, would have to be the most evil, inasmuch as he makes his ideal prevail over all men inoppositionto their ideals, and remoulds them according to his own image.
Evil, in this respect, means hard, painful, enforced.
Such men as Napoleon must always return and always settle our belief in the self-glory of the individual afresh: he himself, however, was corrupted by the means he had to stoop to, and hadlost noblesseof character. If he had had to prevail among another kind of men, he could have availed himself of other means; and thus it would not seemnecessarythat a Cæsarmust become bad.
1027.
Man is a combination of thebeastand thesuper-beast; higher man a combination of the monster and the superman:[7]these opposites belong to each other. With every degree of a man's growth towards greatness and loftiness, he also grows downwards into the depths and into the terrible: we should not desire the one without the other;—or, better still: the more fundamentally we desire the one, the more completely we shall achieve the other.