What Nietzsche Taught
Date: 2016-11-28T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Philosophy; Nietzsche; Friedrich Wilhelm; 1844-1900; 1844-1900 -- Criticism and interpretation

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Title: What Nietzsche Taught

Author: Willard Huntington Wright

Release date: November 28, 2016 [eBook #53622]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT NIETZSCHE TAUGHT ***

What Nietzsche Taught

By

Willard Huntington Wright

I am writing for a race of men which
does not yet exist: for "the lords
of the earth."
The Will to Power

New York

B. W. Huebsch

1915

TO
H. L. MENCKEN
the critic who has given the greatest impetus
to the study of Nietzsche in America

Portrait Bust of Nietzsche by
Professor Karl Donndorf, Stuttgart

CONTENTS

| | INTRODUCTION
| I | BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
| II | "HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN," VOLS. I AND II
| III | "THE DAWN OF DAY"
| IV | "THE JOYFUL WISDOM"
| V | "THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA"
| VI | "THE ETERNAL RECURRENCE"
| VII | "BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL"
| VIII | "THE GENEALOGY OF MORALS"
| IX | "THE TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS"
| X | "THE ANTICHRIST"
| XI | "THE WILL TO POWER," VOL. I
| XII | "THE WILL TO POWER," VOL. II
| | BIBLIOGRAPHY

INTRODUCTION

It is no longer possible to ignore the teachings of Friedrich Nietzsche, or to consider the trend of modern thought without giving the philosopher of the superman a prominent place in the list of thinkers who contributed to the store of present-day knowledge. His powerful and ruthless mind has had an influence on contemporary thought which even now, in the face of all the scholarly books of appreciation he has called forth, one is inclined to underestimate. No philosopher since Kant has left so undeniable an imprint on modern thought. Even Schopenhauer, whose influence coloured the greater part of Europe, made no such widespread impression. Nietzsche has penetrated into both England and America, two countries strangely impervious to rigorous philosophic ideals. Not only in ethics and literature do we find the moulding hand of Nietzsche at work, invigorating and solidifying; but in pedagogics and in art, in politics and religion, the influence of his doctrines is to be encountered. The books and essays in German elucidating his philosophy constitute a miniature library. Nearly as many books and articles have appeared in France, and the list of authors of these appreciations include many of the most noted modern scholars. Spain and Italy, likewise, have contributed works to an inquiry into his teachings; and in England and America numerous volumes dealing with the philosophy of the superman have appeared in recent years. In M. A. Mügge's excellent biography, "Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work," there is appended a bibliography containing 850 titles, and this list by no means includes all the books and articles devoted to a consideration of this philosopher's doctrines.

In this regard one should note that this interest is not the result of a temporary popularity, such as that which has met the philosophical pieties of Henri Bergson. To the contrary, Nietzsche's renown is gaining ground daily among serious-minded scholars, and his adherents have already reached the dimensions of a small army. But despite this appreciation there is still current an enormous amount of ignorance concerning his teachings. The very manner in which he wrote tended to bring about misunderstandings. Viewed casually and without studious consideration, his books offer many apparent contradictions. His style, always elliptic and aphoristic, lends itself easily to quotation, and because of the startling and revolutionary nature of his utterances, many excerpts from his earlier works were widely circulated through the mediums of magazines and newspapers. These quotations, robbed of their context, very often gave rise to immature and erroneous judgments, with the result that the true meaning of his philosophy was often turned into false channels. Many of his best-known aphorisms have taken on strange and unearthly meanings, and often the reverse of his gospel has gained currency and masqueraded as the original canon.

To a great extent this misunderstanding has been unavoidable. Systematisers, ever eager to bend a philosopher's statements to their own ends, have found in Nietzsche's writings much material which, when carefully isolated, substantiated their own conclusions. On the other hand, the Christian moralists, sensing in Nietzsche a powerful and effective opponent, have attempted to disqualify his ethical system by presenting garbled portions of his attacks on Christianity, omitting all the qualifying passages. It is impossible, however, to understand any of Nietzsche's doctrines unless we consider them in their relation to the whole of his teachings.

Contrary to the general belief, Nietzsche was not simply a destructive critic and a formulator of impossible and romantic concepts. His doctrine of the superman, which seems to be the principal stumbling block in the way of a rationalistic interpretation of his philosophy, is no vague dream unrelated to present humanity. Nor was his chief concern with future generations. Nietzsche devoted his research to immediate conditions and to the origin of those conditions. And—what is of greater importance—he left behind him a very positive and consistent system of ethics—a workable and entirely comprehensible code of conduct to meet present-day needs. This system was not formulated with the precision which no doubt would have attached to it in its final form had he been able to complete the plans he had outlined. Yet there are few points in his code of ethics—and they are of minor importance—which cannot be found, clearly conceived and concisely stated, in the main body of his works. This system of conduct embraces every stage of society; and for the rulers to-day—the people for whom Nietzsche directly voiced his teachings—he outlines a method of outer conduct and a set of inner ideals which meet with every modern condition. His proposed ethical routine is not based on abstract reasoning and speculative conclusions. It is a practical code which has its foundation implanted in the dominating instincts of the organic and inorganic world. It is directly opposed to the prevailing code, and has for its ideal the fulness of life itself—life intensified to the highest degree, life charged with a maximum of beauty, power, enthusiasm, virility, wealth and intoxication. It is the code of strength and courage. Its goal is a race which will possess the hardier virtues of strength, confidence, exuberance and affirmation.

This ideal has been the source of many misunderstandings, and it is the errors which have arisen from the vicious and inept dissemination of his teachings, that I have striven to rectify in the present book. I have hoped to accomplish this by presenting the whole of Nietzsche's philosophy, as far as possible, in his own words. This has not been so difficult a matter. His writings, more than those of any other modern philosopher, offer opportunities for such treatment. There is no point in his entire system not susceptible to brief and clear quotation. Furthermore, his thought developed consistently and logically in straight-away, chronological order, so that at the conclusion of each book we find ourselves just so much further along the route of his thinking. Beginning with "Human, All-Too-Human," his first destructive volume, we can trace the gradual and concise pyramiding of his teachings, down to the last statement of his cardinal doctrine of will as set forth in the notes which comprise the second volume of "The Will to Power." Each one of the intervening books embodies new material: it is a distinct, yet co-ordinated, division in the great structure of his life's work. These books overlap one another in many instances, and develop points raised speculatively in former books, but they organise each other and lead one surely, if at times circuitously, to the crowning doctrines of his thought.

The majority of critics have chosen to systematise Nietzsche's teachings by separating the ideas in his different books, and by drawing together under specific captions (such as "religion," "the state," "education," etc.,) all the scattered material which relates to these different subjects. In many cases they have succeeded in offering a very coherent and consistent résumé of his thought. But Nietzsche's doctrines were inherently opposed to such arbitrary dividing and arranging, because beneath the various sociological points which fell under his consideration, were two or three general motivating principles which unified the whole of his thought. He did not work from modern institutions back to his doctrines; but, by analysing the conditions out of which these institutions grew, he arrived at the conclusions which he afterward used in formulating new methods of operation. It was the change in conditions and needs between ancient and modern times that made him voice the necessity of change between ancient and modern institutions. In other words, his advocacy of new methods for dealing with modern affairs was evolved from his researches into the origin and history of current methods. For instance, his remarks on religion, society, the state, the individual, etc., were the outcome of fundamental postulates which he described and elucidated in terms of human institutions. Therefore an attempt to reach an explanation of the basic doctrines of his philosophy through his applied teachings unconsciously gives rise to the very errors which the serious critics have sought to overcome: this method focuses attention on the application of his doctrines rather than on the doctrines themselves.

Therefore I have taken his writings chronologically, beginning with his first purely philosophical work—"Human, All-Too-Human"—and have set down, in his own words, every important conclusion throughout his entire works. In this way one may follow Nietzsche throughout every step in the development of his teachings—not only in his abstract theories but also in his application of them. There is not a single important point in the entire sweep of his thought not contained in these pages. Naturally I have been unable to give any of the arguments which led to these conclusions. The quotations are in every instance no longer than has been necessary to make clear the idea: for the processes of thought by which these conclusions were reached the reader must go direct to the books from which the excerpts are made. Also I have omitted Nietzsche's brilliant analogies and such desultory critical judgments, literary and artistic, as have no direct bearing on his philosophy; and have contented myself with setting down only those bare, unelaborated utterances which embody the positive points in his thought. By thus letting Nietzsche himself state his doctrines I have attempted to make it impossible for anybody who goes carefully through these pages to misunderstand those points which now seem clouded in error.

In order to facilitate further the research of the student and to make clear certain of the more obscure selections, I have preceded each chapter with a short account of the book and its contents. In these brief essays, I have reviewed the entire contents of each book, set down the circumstances under which it was written, and attempted to weigh its individual importance in relation to the others. Furthermore, I have attempted to state briefly certain of the doctrines which did not permit of entirely self-explanatory quotation. And where Nietzsche indulged in research, such as in tracing the origin of certain motives, or in explaining the steps which led to the acceptance of certain doctrines, I have included in these essays an abridged exposition of his theories. In short, I have embodied in each chapter such critical material as I thought would assist the reader to a clear understanding of each book's contents and relative significance.

This book is frankly for the beginner—for the student who desires a survey of Nietzsche's philosophy before entering upon a closer and more careful study of it. In this respect it is meant also as a guide; and I have given the exact location of every quotation so that the reader may refer at once to the main body of Nietzsche's works and ascertain the premises and syllogisms which underlie the quoted conclusion.

In the opening biographical sketch I have refrained from going into Nietzsche's personality and character, adhering throughout to the external facts of his life. His personality will be found in the racy, vigorous and stimulating utterances I have chosen for quotation, and no comments of mine could add colour to the impression thus received. It is difficult to divorce Nietzsche from his work: the man and his teachings are inseparable. His style, as well as his philosophy, is a direct outgrowth of his personality. This is why his gospel is so personal and intimate a one, and so closely bound up in the instincts of humanity. There are several good biographies of Nietzsche in existence, and a brief account of the best ones in English will be found in the bibliography at the end of this volume.

It must not be thought that this book is intended as a final, or even complete, commentary on Nietzsche's doctrines. It was written and compiled for the purpose of supplying an introductory study, and, with that end in view, I have refrained from all technical or purely philosophical nomenclature. The object throughout has been to stimulate the reader to further study, and if this book does not send the reader sooner or later to the original volumes from which these quotations have been made, I shall feel that I have failed somewhat in my enterprise.

The volumes of Nietzsche's philosophy from which the quotations in this book are taken, comprise the first complete and authorised edition of the works of Nietzsche in English. To the courageous energy of Dr. Oscar Levy do we owe the fact that Nietzsche's entire writings are now obtainable in English. The translations of these books have, in every instance, been made by competent scholars, and each volume is introduced by an illuminating preface. As this edition now stands, it is the most complete and voluminous translation of any foreign philosopher in the English language. The edition is in eighteen volumes, and is published in England by T. N. Foulis, and in America by the Macmillan Company. The volumes and their contents are given below.

I. "The Birth of Tragedy," translated by William A. Haussmann, B.A., Ph.D., with a biographical introduction by the author's sister; a portrait of Nietzsche, and a facsimile of his manuscript.

II. "Early Greek Philosophy and Other Essays," translated by Maximilian A. Mügge, Ph.D. Contents: "The Greek State," "The Greek Woman," "On Music and Words," "Homer's Contest," "The Relation of Schopenhauer's Philosophy to a German Culture," "Philosophy During the Tragic Age of the Greeks" and "On Truth and Falsity in Their Ultramoral Sense."

III. "The Future of Our Educational Institutions," translated by J. M. Kennedy. Besides the titular essay, this volume contains "Homer and Classical Philology."

IV. "Thoughts Out of Season," Vol. I., translated by Anthony M. Ludovici. Contents: "David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer" and "Richard Wagner in Bayreuth."

V. "Thoughts Out of Season," Vol. II., translated with introduction by Adrian Collins, M.A. Contents: "The Use and Abuse of History" and "Schopenhauer as Educator."

VI. "Human, All-Too-Human," Vol. I., translated by Helen Zimmern, with introduction by J. M. Kennedy.

VII. "Human, All-Too-Human," Vol. IL, translated, with introduction, by Paul V. Cohn, B.A.

VIII. "The Case of Wagner," translated by Anthony M. Ludovici and J. M. Kennedy, with introductions by the translators. Contents: "The Case of Wagner," "Nietzche contra Wagner," "Selected Aphorisms" and "We Philologists."

IX. "The Dawn of Day," translated, with introduction, by J. M. Kennedy.

X. "The Joyful Wisdom," translated, with introduction, by Thomas Common. The poetry which appears in the appendix under the caption of "Songs of Prince Free-As-A-Bird," is translated by Paul V. Cohn and Maude D. Petre.

XI. "Thus Spake Zarathustra," revised introduction by Thomas Common, with introduction by Mrs. Förster-Nietzsche, and commentary by A. M. Ludovici.

XII. "Beyond Good and Evil," translated by Helen Zimmern, with introduction by Thomas Common.

XIII. "The Genealogy of Morals," translated by Horace B. Samuel, M.A., with introductory note. "People and Countries," an added section to this book, is translated by J. M. Kennedy with an editor's note by Dr. Oscar Levy.

XIV. "The Will to Power," Vol. I., translated, with an introduction, by A. M. Ludovici.

XV. "The Will to Power," Vol. IL, translated, with an introduction, by A. M. Ludovici.

XVI. "The Twilight of the Idols," translated, with an introduction, by A. M. Ludovici. Contents: "The Twilight of the Idols," "The Antichrist," "Eternal Recurrence," and "Explanatory Notes to 'Thus Spake Zarathustra.'"

XVII. "Ecce Homo," translated by A. M. Ludovici. Various poetry and epigrams translated by Paul V. Cohn, Herman Scheffauer, Francis Bickley and Dr. G. T. Wrench. In addition this volume contains the music of Nietzsche's "Hymn to Life"—words by Lou Salomé—with an introduction by A. M. Ludovici.

XVIII. "Index to Complete Works," compiled by Robert Guppy, with vocabulary of foreign quotations occurring in the works of Nietzsche translated by Paul V. Cohn, B.A., and an introductory essay, "The Nietzsche Movement in England (A Retrospect—A Confession—A Prospect)," by Dr. Oscar Levy.

There are in the present volume no quotations from Nietzsche's "Ecce Homo" or from the pamphlets dealing with Wagner. The former work is an autobiography which, while it throws light on both Nietzsche's character and his work, is nevertheless outside his purely philosophical writings. And the Wagner documents, though interesting, have little to do with the Nietzschean doctrines, except as showing perhaps the result of their application. I have therefore left them intact for the student who wishes to go more deeply into the philosopher's character than I have here attempted.

W. H. W.

WHAT NIETZSCHE TAUGHT

I

Biographical Sketch

Nietzsche liked to believe that he was of Polish descent. He had a greater admiration for the Poles than for the Germans, and went so far as to instigate an investigation by which he hoped to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not only Polish but was descended from the Polish nobility. His efforts, his sister tells us, were not entirely successful, although some evidence was turned up which pointed to the truth of this theory. Several of the dates in the report, however, did not accurately tally, and since many of Nietzsche's papers containing the results of his genealogical research were lost in Turin after his breakdown, the hypothesis of his Polish descent consequently remains somewhat mythical. Nietzsche's theory was that his great-great-grandfather was a nobleman named Nicki who fled from Poland during the religious wars, as a fugitive under sentence of death, and took with him a young son who afterward changed his name to Nietzsche. There is a romance in this belief which appealed strongly to the philosopher. He saw a genuine grandeur in the fact that his ancestor had become a fugitive for his religious and political opinions. This belief in time became a conviction with him, and in the later years of his life we find him definitely asserting the truth of this family tradition.

The matter, however, one way or the other, is of little consequence, for Nietzsche's mind embodied universal traits: it was uncommonly free from distinctly national characteristics. All the important facts of his life and of his immediate ancestry are known to us. He was born at Röcken, a little village in the Prussian province of Saxony, on October 15, 1844. The day was the anniversary of the birth of Friedrich Wilhelm IV, King of Prussia, and Nietzsche was christened Friedrich Wilhelm in honour of the event. The coincidence was all the more marked by the fact that Nietzsche's father, three years previous, had been tutor to the Altenburg Princesses, in which capacity he had met the sovereign and made so favourable an impression that it was by the royal favour he was living at Röcken. There were two other children in the Nietzsche household—a girl born in 1846, and a son born in 1850. The girl was named Therese Elizabeth Alexandra after the Duke of Altenburg's three daughters who had come under her father's tutorship. Afterward she became the philosopher's closest companion and guardian and his most voluminous biographer. The boy Joseph, named after the Duke of Altenburg himself, did not survive his first year.

The longevity and hardiness which marked the stock of Nietzsche's ancestors does away with the theory, often advanced, that his sickness and final mental breakdown were the outcome of hereditary causes. Out of his eight great-parents only two failed to reach the age of seventy-five, while one reached the age of eighty-six and another did not die until ninety. Both of his grand-fathers attained to the age of seventy, and his maternal grandmother lived until she was past eighty-two. Furthermore, the Nietzsche families for three generations had been very large and in every instance healthy and robust. Nietzsche's grandmother Nietzsche had twelve children, and his grandmother Oehler had eleven children—both families being strong and free from sickness. Nietzsche himself, so his sister tells us in her biography, was strong and healthy from his earliest childhood until maturity. He participated in outdoor sports such as swimming, skating and ball playing, and was characterised by a ruddy complexion which in his school days often called forth remarks concerning his evident splendid health. It seems that only one physical defect marked the whole of his younger life—a myopia inherited from his father. This impediment, though slight at first, became rapidly aggravated by the constant use to which he put his eyes in his sedulous application to study.

Nietzsche, the most terrible and devastating critic of Christianity and its ideals, was the culmination of two long collateral lines of theologians. His grandfather Nietzsche was a man of many scholarly attainments, who, because of his ecclesiastical writings, had received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. His second wife, the mother of Nietzsche's father, came from a whole family of pastors by the name of Krause. Her favourite brother was a preacher in the Cathedral at Naumburg; and of the other two one was a Doctor of Divinity and one a country clergyman. The father of Nietzsche's mother was also a pastor by the name of Oehler, and had a parsonage in Pobles. Likewise Nietzsche's father, Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche, was a pastor in the Lutheran church; but he possessed a greater culture than we are wont to associate with the average country clergyman, and was a man looked up to and revered by all those who knew him. In fact, his appointment to the post at Röcken was an expression of appreciation paid his talents by the Prussian King. He was thirty-one years of age and had been married only a year when his son Friedrich was born. Though in perfect health, he was not destined to live more than five years after this event, for in 1848 he fell down a flight of stone stairs, and died after a year's invalidism, as a result of concussion of the brain.

The event cast a decided influence on the Nietzsche household and altered completely its plans. After lingering eight months at the parsonage, the family left Röcken and moved to Naumburg-on-the-Saale, there establishing a new domicile in the home of the pastor's mother. The household was composed of the two children, Friedrich and Elizabeth, their mother, then only twenty-four, their grandmother Nietzsche, and two maiden sisters of the dead father. This establishment was run on strict and puritanical lines. All the women were of strong theological inclinations. One of the maiden aunts, Rosalie, devoted herself to Christian benevolent institutions. The other aunt, Augusta, was not unlike the paternal grandmother—pious and God-fearing and constantly busied with her duties to others. The widowed mother carried on the Christian tradition of the family, and never forgot that she was once the wife of a Lutheran pastor. Daily prayers and Biblical readings were fixed practices. The young Friedrich was the pet of the household, and there were secret hopes held by all that he would grow up in the footsteps of his father and become an honoured and respected light in the church. To the realisation of this hope, all the efforts and influences of the four women were given. Such was the atmosphere in which the early youth of the author of "The Antichrist" was nurtured.

Soon after the family's arrival at Naumburg, Friedrich, then only six years old, was sent to a local Municipal Boys' School, in accordance with the educational theories of his grandmother, who believed in gregarious education for the very young. But she had failed to count upon the unusual character of her grandson, and the attempt to educate him at a municipal institution resulted in failure. His upbringing had made him somewhat priggish and hypersensitive. He was ridiculed by the other boys who taunted him with the epithet of "the little minister." He refused to mingle with the riff-raff which composed the larger part of the pupils, and held himself isolated and aloof. Consequently, before the year was up, he was withdrawn from the school and entered in a private educational institution which prepared the younger students for the Cathedral Grammar School. Here he was in more congenial surroundings. He had for schoolmates two youths whose families were friends of the Nietzsche household—young Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug, who later were to influence his youth. Nietzsche remained at this school for three years.

As a boy Nietzsche was always thoughtful and studious. He was a taciturn child and took long walks in the country alone, preferring solitude to companionship. He was sensitive to a marked degree, polite, solicitous of all about him, and inclined to moodiness. As soon as he could write he started a diary in which he included not only the external events of his life but his thoughts and ideas and opinions. The pages of this diary, partially preserved, make unique and interesting reading. At a very early age he began writing poetry. His verses, though conventional in both theme and metre, reflected a knowledge of contemporary prosody unusual in a boy of his years. He had ample opportunity in his home of hearing good music, and he manifested a great love for it in very early youth. He devoted much time to studying the piano, and not infrequently tried his hand at composing. Later in his life we still find him writing music, and also publishing it. In deportment Nietzsche was a model child. He was thoroughly imbued with the religious atmosphere of his surroundings, and was far more pious than the average youth of his own age. For a long while he gave every indication of fulfilling the ecclesiastical hopes which his family harboured for him. Consequently there was no lack of encouragement on the part of his guardians toward his first literary efforts which reflected the piety of his nature.

After a few years in the Naumburg school, where he distinguished himself as a model student and incidentally impressed the visiting inspectors by his quickness and brilliance in answering test questions, Nietzsche took the entrance examinations for the well-known Landes-Schule at Pforta, an institution then noted for its fostering and promotion of scientific studies. The vacancy at Pforta had been offered Nietzsche's mother by the Rector who had heard rumours concerning the intellectual gifts of the young "Fritz." The examinations were passed successfully, and in October, 1858, after a tearful leave-taking, he entered the Lower Fourth Form. Pforta, at that time, was an institution of considerable eminence, with a tradition attaching to it not unlike that of Eton. It was a hot-bed of academic culture, and the professors were among the most learned in the country. The school had been founded as a monastery in the twelfth century by the Cistercian monks. In the sixteenth century it had fallen under the rule of the Duke Moritz of Saxony, who turned it into a secular educational academy, making way for the advance of the newer ideals.

The life at Pforta in Nietzsche's day was strict, and we learn that the young philosopher chafed somewhat under the stringent discipline. But in time he accustomed himself to the regulations, and it was not long before we find him actively and interestedly participating in the school life. However, new ideas were fomenting. If outwardly he acquiesced to the routine, inwardly he was in a state of revolt. He had already begun to indulge in original thinking, and he felt the lack of freedom in communicating his ideas to others. His only confidante during these days was his sister whom he always saw during the holidays and on brief leaves of absence. His spare moments were devoted to music and literature other than that prescribed by the school curriculum. He resented the fact that one had to think of particular themes at specified times, and no doubt caused his good tutor, Professor Buddensieg, much uneasiness, for, to judge from his diary, he did not keep to himself the resentment he felt toward the enforcement of the irksome and repressive calendar of studies.

This resentment doubtlessly had much to do with the inauguration of a society which was called the Germania Club. Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug, Nietzsche's former school companions at Naumburg, were participants in its formation; and on the highest ledge of the watch tower, overlooking the Saale valley, its object was discussed and its inception dedicated and solemnised with a bottle of red wine. This society, while bearing many of the ear-marks of mere youthful enthusiasm, formed an important turning point in Nietzsche's life. It acted, at a psychological moment, as a safety-valve for the heretical ideas and aspirations which, up to that time, he had confided only to his sister and his diary. The purpose of the club can best be stated in Nietzsche's own words: "We resolved to found a kind of small club which would consist of ourselves and a few friends, and the object of which would be to provide us with a stable and binding organisation, directing and adding interest to our creative impulses in art and literature; or to put it more plainly, each of us would be pledged to present an original piece of work to the club once a month, either a poem, a treatise, an architectural design, or a musical composition, upon which each of the others, in a friendly spirit, would have to pass free and unrestricted criticism. We thus hoped by means of mutual correction to be able both to stimulate and to chasten our creative impulses." It was during one of his lectures before this group of youthful individualists that Nietzsche first expressed his true views on Christianity—views, which, could they have been overheard by his devoted family, would have brought sorrow to their pious hearts. The list of Nietzsche's contributions to this synod numbered thirty-four, and included musical compositions, poems, political orations and various literary works.

Nietzsche remained at Pforta until 1864. He had been confirmed at Easter, 1861, and to all outward manifestations retained his religious principles. His final report states that "he showed an active and lively interest in the Christian doctrine." In religion he was given the grade of "excellent." During his later years at Pforta he manifested an interest in the works of Emerson and Shakespeare and especially in the Greek and Latin authors. His dislike for mathematics increased steadily, and his love for Sophocles, Æschylus, Plato and the Greek lyricists "grew by leaps and bounds." His final paper—the departing thesis which was compulsory for all graduating students—was a Latin essay on Theognis of Megara, "De Theognide Megarensi" Between Nietzsche and that ancient aristocrat, with his fine contempt for democracy, there existed many temperamental affinities; and this final essay was no less than a foundation on which the young Dionysian later built his philosophy of aristocracy. On the 7th of September he left Pforta.

After resting at Naumburg until the middle of October, Nietzsche set forth for the University of Bonn. It was here that he came under the guidance of Professor Ritschl, who later was to exert a great influence over him. Friedrich Wilhelm Ritschl was not only the foremost philologist of his time, but a scholar deeply versed in classical literature and rhetoric. It was he who founded the science of historical literary criticism as we know it to-day. When he first met Nietzsche his interest in the young man at once became very great, and the relationship between them rapidly developed into the warmest of friendships. To Ritschl Nietzsche owed many things. It was at the former's house that he became acquainted with many of the leading learned men of the day. And it would be unfair not to credit Ritschl with much of the future philosopher's ardent and lasting interest in ancient cultures.

At Bonn Nietzsche entered the collegiate life with unusual zest. He became a member of the Franconia Student Corps, and participated freely in the drinking bouts which, from what we can learn from his letters home, constituted one of the main duties attached to his membership. But this phase of the student life was foreign to his tastes, and after brief activities in the rôle of "good fellow," he found a more spontaneous recreation in attending concerts and the better class theatres. He privately studied Schumann, and during 1864 and 1865 his life bore a marked musical stamp.

It was during Nietzsche's days at Bonn that a decided change came over his religious views. His critical studies in the literature and culture of the ancients had done much toward weaning him from the formal and almost literal theological beliefs of his family. The first open breach between his newer ideals and the established prejudices of his mother came at Easter-time about midway of his course at Bonn. He was home for the holidays, and when the good people were preparing to attend communion, he suddenly informed them of his decision not to accompany them. Arguments were unavailing. An animated discussion arose in which he firmly defended his attitude; and from that time on there was never a reconciliation between his religious standpoint and the one held by his family. Two learned ecclesiastics were called into consultation, but they were unable to meet the disquieting arguments of the young heretic, and his case was dismissed for the moment on his Aunt Rosalie's theory that even in the lives of the devoutest Christians there often come periods of doubt, and that during such periods it is best to leave the backslider to his own conscience. Nietzsche, however, never again entered the fold.

Curiously enough it was at this same period that came his revulsion toward the dissipations of student life. He went so far as to attempt an imposition of his moral theories on the members of the Franconia, but this attempt at reformation resulted only in his own unpopularity. In his attitude toward duelling—a pastime somewhat over-emphasised at Bonn—Nietzsche was consistent with his other beliefs. The chivalrous side of it appealed to him, although he detested the spirit of it from the standpoint of the student body. However, he took heroic, if unconventional, means to involve himself in a duel lest his position be misconstrued as cowardice. He selected an adversary he thought worthy of him, and pleasantly demanded a combat on the field of honour, ending his request: "Let us waive all the usual preliminaries." The other agreed, and the duel was fought. But the incident merely resulted in emphasising Nietzsche's disgust for student life. Says his sister, "The circumstances which above all aroused my brother's wrath was the detestable 'beer materialism' with which he met on all sides, and owing to these early experiences in Bonn he for ever retained a very deep dislike for smoking, drinking, and the whole of so-called 'beer-conviviality.'" His decision to leave Bonn and enter the University of Leipzig was due to his fondness for Ritschl. In the dispute which arose between the two Professors, Jahn and Ritschl, Nietzsche's friendship for the latter made him a partisan, although he held Jahn in the highest respect; and when Ritschl decided to transfer himself to Leipzig, the young philosopher, along with several of the other students, followed him. This was in the autumn of 1865. Nietzsche reached Leipzig on the 17th of October, and the next day he presented himself to the Academic Board. It was the centennial anniversary of the day when Goethe had entered his name on the register, and the University was celebrating the event. The coincidence delighted Nietzsche greatly, who regarded it as a good omen for his future at the new institution.

It was during his residence at Leipzig that there came into his life two events which were to have a profound and lasting influence on his future. One of these was his acquaintance with Wagner—an acquaintance which several years later developed into the strongest friendship of his life. The other event (in many ways more important than the first) was his discovery of Schopenhauer. This discovery is characteristically described in a letter to his sister: "One day I came across this book at old Rohn's curiosity shop, and taking it up very gingerly I turned over its pages. I know not what demon whispered to me: 'Take this book home with thee.' At all events, contrary to my habit not to be hasty in my purchase of books, I took it home. Once in my room I threw myself into the corner of the sofa with my booty, and began to allow that energetic and gloomy genius to work upon my mind. In this book, in which every line cried out renunciation, denial, and resignation, I saw a mirror in which I espied the whole world, life and my own mind depicted in frightful grandeur. In this volume the full celestial eye of art gazed at me; here I saw illness and recovery, banishment and refuge, heaven and hell. The need of knowing myself, yea, even of gnawing at myself, forcibly seized me." This book went far in arousing the philosophic faculties of the young philologist, and later he wrote many essays, long and short, both in praise and in refutation of the great pessimist. That he should at first have subscribed to all of Schopenhauer's teachings is natural. Nietzsche was vital and susceptible to enthusiasms. It was in accord with his youthful nature, full of courage and strength, that he should have been seduced to pessimism.

At Leipzig Nietzsche accomplished an enormous amount of work: and his nature developed in proportion. The life was freer than it had been at Pforta or at Bonn. Far from being hampered in the voicings of his inner beliefs, he found his environment particularly congenial to self-expression. He made numerous friends, principal among them being Erwin Rohde, who crossed his later life at many points. He showed a great interest in political, as well as in literary and musical, events; and the war between Prussia and Austria fanned his youthful ardour to an almost extravagant degree. Twice he offered himself to the authorities, hoping to be permitted to serve as a soldier, but was rejected both times on account of his shortsightedness. His interest in his studies, however, was in no wise diminished. He read widely in English, French, Greek and Latin, and devoted much scholarly research to Theognis, Diogenes Laertius, and Democritus. His essay on the subject, "De Fontibus Diogenis Laertii" won the first university prize, and was later published, with other of his essays on philology, in the Rheinisches Museum.

At this time the Prussian army found itself in sore need of men, and although Nietzsche had been exempt from military duties and had failed to secure enlistment, he suddenly found himself, in the autumn of 1867, called upon for compulsory training. A new army regulation had just been passed requiring all young men, if otherwise physically sound, to enter military service even though their eyesight was partially impaired. As a consequence Nietzsche had to leave Leipzig and go into training. He made an effort to enlist in a Berlin Guard Regiment, but was finally compelled to join the horse artillery at Naumburg. Although he had previously volunteered for service, he now found that the life of a soldier was far more irksome and far less romantic than he had imagined. He was unhappy and disconsolate, and deplored the slavery attached to the life of a mounted artilleryman. He was not destined, however, to fulfil his arduous military duties to the full term of his proscription. Barely a year had gone by when he was thrown from his horse and received what at first was thought a slight strain, but what later turned out to be a serious injury. The pommel of his saddle had compressed his chest, and the inflammation which set in necessitated his permanent withdrawal from service.

For a long time Nietzsche was under the care of the famous specialist, Volkmann, to whom the military doctors had turned him over when they had begun to despair of his recovery. During convalescence, he busied himself with preparations for his coming university year and assisted in some intricate indexing for members of the faculty. In October, 1868, he was able to return to Leipzig and resume his work. But another unexpected event—this one of an advantageous nature and destined to alter his whole future—came in the form of an inquiry from the University of Bale in Switzerland. The members of that institution's educational board, attracted by Nietzsche's essays in the Rheinisches Museum, wrote to Ritschl for information regarding the young philologist. Ritschl replied that Nietzsche was a genius and could do whatever he put his mind to. Thus it happened that, although only 24, he was offered the vacant post of Classical Philology at Bâle, without even being put through the formalities of an examination. However, he was straightway granted a Doctor's degree by the University of Leipzig, and on the 13th of April, 1869, he left Naumburg to assume the duties of his new appointment. His departure marked the passing of the Nietzsche household. His grandmother and both the maiden aunts were dead, and because, no doubt, of religious differences, he and his mother became estranged. Of that intimately welded family circle, only the deep friendship between Nietzsche and his sister remained.

On May 28, Nietzsche delivered his inaugural address at Bâle, using the personality of Homer as his subject. The hall was crowded, and the address made a decided impression on both students and faculty. The lecture was an unusual one and well off the conventional track. It created riot a little mild excitement among the professors at Leipzig, and the cut-and-dried philologists of that institution were frankly scandalised by its boldness. The address, however, was an index to Nietzsche's character, and, in looking back on it, we can see that it unmistakably pointed the way along which the future development of his mind was to take place. At Bâle, the young philologist, despite the people's kindly disposition toward him, suffered from solitude. His classes were small. Although he had made an impassioned plea for his particular science, the interest in philology was slight, and his morning lectures were attended by only eight students. Nietzsche was without a companion with whom he might exchange his ideas and personal thoughts. His only diversion came in the form of occasional trips to neighbouring parts of the country; and the letters he wrote to his sister and his former friends were tinged with melancholy. But he was conscientious in his work, and a year later he was given a professorship.

Before he could accept this later appointment it had been necessary for him to become a naturalised subject of Switzerland, so that when the Franco-German War of 1870 broke out, he could not serve as a combatant—a fact which caused him keen disappointment. He was able, however, to secure service as an ambulance attendant in the Hospital Corps, and set forth upon his patriotic duties with a glad heart. Having been granted the leave he asked for at the University, he went to Erlangen, where he entered for a course of surgery and medicine at the Red Cross Society. After a brief training as a nurse, in which line of work he showed remarkable adaptability, he was sent to the seat of war at the head of an ambulance corps. He was untiring in his energies and laboured day and night in the midst of the battlefields. But the overwork proved too much for him, and he soon reached the limit of his endurance. One day, after long exposure in a cattle truck filled with severely wounded and diseased men, he began to show signs of serious illness, and when, after great difficulty, he managed to reach Erlangen, it was discovered that he was suffering from diphtheria and severe dysentery. Though he had seen but a few weeks' hospital service, it was now necessary for him to discontinue his duties entirely. His sister tells us that this illness greatly undermined his health, and was the first cause of his subsequent condition. To make matters worse, the slight medical education which he had received in preparation for his ambulance service led him to pursue a fateful course of self-doctoring—a practice which he continued to his own detriment throughout the remainder of his life. Nietzsche did not even wait until he was well before resuming his duties at the University, and this new strain imposed on his already depleted system had much to do with bringing on his final breakdown.

As a result of the Philistinism which broke out all over Germany at the end of the war, Nietzsche delivered a course of lectures at Bonn, which he entitled "On the Future of Our Educational Institutions." Germany had insisted that her victory was due not only to physical bravery but also in a large measure to the superiority of Germanic culture and Teutonic ideals. Nietzsche beheld in this snobbish attitude a very grave danger for his country, and endeavoured in a small way to rectify this attitude by a series of lectures. He severely criticised the German educational institutions of the day and went so far as to deny them the great culture which they so ardently claimed. While these lectures in no wise stemmed, even locally, the tide of Philistinism at which they were aimed, the criticisms contained in them are of the greatest importance in reviewing the development of the philosopher himself. The lectures contained, perhaps unconsciously but none the less clearly, many of the elements of that philosophy which later was to have so tremendous an influence not only on Germany but on the whole civilised world.

In the same year, 1872, Nietzsche's first important book appeared. This work, dedicated to Richard Wagner, had been begun in 1869, and was first called "The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music." When the third edition appeared in 1886 the title was changed to "The Birth of Tragedy, or Hellenism and Pessimism," and a preface called "An Attempt at Self-Criticism" was added. In a large measure this book was a tribute to Wagner, and was written by Nietzsche in an effort to be of immediate benefit to the musician who at that time was passing through a period of despondency. Wagner was then living at Tribschen, not far from Bâle, and Nietzsche's visits to him were frequent. It was during these years that the great friendship between the two men developed. "The Birth of Tragedy," however, was not well received by the public. Musicians were pleased with it, but philologists in particular deplored its utterances. They looked upon its author as a traitor to their science for having dared to venture beyond the narrow bounds of academic formalism. One well-known philologist, Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, attacked Nietzsche in an ill-humoured pamphlet; and although Erwin Rohde answered it adequately with another pamphlet, the attack proved detrimental to Nietzsche's standing at Bale. During the following winter term the young philologist was entirely without pupils.

His mind, however, was now undergoing decided and important changes. He was becoming bolder and surer of himself. New ideals were taking the place of old ones, and in 1873 he began a series of famous pamphlets which later were put into book form under the title of "Thoughts Out of Season." His first attack was upon David Strauss; the second was directed towards the German historians of the day; the third was aimed at Schopenhauer; and the fourth was the famous panegyric, "Richard Wagner in Bayreuth." These essays, together with his work at Bâle, occupied him until 1876. Nietzsche was now suffering severely from the malady he carried to his grave, catarrh of the stomach. This was accompanied by severe headaches, and during his holidays he alternated between Switzerland and Italy in an endeavour to recover his health. In the former place he was with Wagner. In Italy, at Sorrento, he met Dr. Paul Rée, who, if we are to believe Max Nordau, was the father of all Nietzsche's ideas. Credence, however, cannot be given to this accusation, for the nucleus of all of his later ideas was undeniably contained in his writings previous to his meeting with Rée. That Rée influenced him to some small extent no one will deny, for it was he who turned the young philosopher's attention to the latter day scientists of both England and France; and it was shortly after this meeting that Nietzsche began his first independent philosophical work, "Human, All-Too-Human."

It was in the year 1876 that his famous friendship with Wagner began to cool. Nietzsche had gone to Bayreuth to witness the performance of "Der Ring des Nibelungen" Already he had begun to question his own high opinion of the composer, and Bayreuth solidified his doubts. It had been two years since he had seen Wagner, and after a brief conversation, Nietzsche became bitter and disgusted. When he finally went away his revulsion was complete, and one of the greatest of historic friendships was at an end. Whatever were the individual merits in the quarrel between these two great contemporaneous men, Nietzsche's attitude was at least consistent with his innermost ideals. He had admired in Wagner certain definite, revolutionary qualities, and when he was convinced, as he had every reason to be, that Wagner was compromising his art for the purpose of popularity, the ideal was broken. He could no longer remain true to himself and also to his friendship for the great composer. "Parsifal" was undoubtedly a decadent work, viewed from the standpoint of Wagner's previous performances. Decadence is simply the inability to create new tissue; and when Wagner forswore modern ideas and reverted to the past, it attested to an entire change of mental attitude: and no purely æsthetic doctrine can controvert the fact. Had Cézanne in later life essayed the painting of conventionally posed saints—no matter what his technical means might have been—his art would have contained the elements of decadence, for an artist's mental attitude cannot be dissevered from his product. This, I believe, was Nietzsche's theory in regard to Wagner. That the breaking off of this friendship was a great blow to the philosopher we know from his diary and from his letters. In fact, his affection for Wagner, the man, was so great that it was not until ten years had passed that he could bring himself to write the essay which he had long had in mind, "The Fall of Wagner."

The year after the appearance of "Human, All-Too-Human," Nietzsche's ill-health compelled him to resign his professorship at Bâle. He had a small income which, together with the three thousand francs retiring allowance granted him by the University, permitted him now to travel moderately and to devote his entire time to his literary labours. He first went to Berne, where he stayed a few weeks. Later he visited Zürich and then St. Moritz. It was a brief holiday, but the change of locale, coupled with the relaxation from work, improved him both in physical health and in spirits. The winter of 1879-80 he spent with his mother at Naumburg, his old home; but the climate and the uncongenial surroundings dragged down his health once more, and it was not until toward the following spring, when he went to Venice, that he regained even a semblance of his normal condition. Here he was in company with Paul Rée and his life-long friend and disciple, Heinrich Köselitz, commonly known as Peter Gast. Nietzsche stayed at Venice until October, when he went to Genoa. The following year appeared "The Dawn of Day," his first book of constructive thinking.

The remainder of Nietzsche's life up to the time of his final breakdown in January, 1889, was spent in a fruitless endeavour to regain his undermined health. For eight years, during all of which time he was busily engaged in writing, he sought a climate that would revive him. His summers were spent for the most part in the quiet solitude of Sils-Maria, a little Swiss village to which the tourist rarely ventured. In 1882 he visited Genoa and, with Paul Rée as companion, made a trip to Monaco. This journey ended disastrously for his health, and by his physician's order he made a trip to Messina. Soon after he settled at Grunewald, near Berlin; but the place depressed him, and we find him later in Tautenburg. Again Genoa claimed him for several months, and then, addicted to chloral, and despondent, he sought relief at Rome. But he could not stand the hot weather, and again he visited Sils-Maria, where, it seems, he was for the time greatly improved. In 1884, we find him again at Naumburg, and a little later at Nice and Venice. In the autumn of the same year, he spent several weeks travelling with his sister in Germany, but at the approach of winter, he proceeded to Mentone. In 1885 he again sought the company of Peter Gast at Venice, and spent the larger part of that year and the next at Venice and Nice. The lonely philosopher then paid a short visit to Leipzig to be once again with his old friend Rohde. But the years had estranged them; their views were now at opposites. Another of his few friends thus lost to him, he immediately returned to Nice. The year 1886 found him at the Riviera, and in 1887 he was again at Sils-Maria. Here he laboured incessantly, travelling to both Venice and Nice in the meantime. In the spring of 1888 he changed his plans and went to Turin. Then after his usual summer visit to Sils-Maria, he returned to Turin, where he remained until the fatal winter of 1888-89. Nietzsche was rarely happy during his travels. He was constantly ill and for the most part alone, and this perturbed and restless period of his life resolved itself into a continuous struggle against melancholy and physical suffering.

During these eight years of solitary labour and futile seeking for health, Nietzsche had written "Thus Spake Zarathustra," "The Joyful Wisdom," "Beyond Good and Evil," "The Genealogy of Morals," "The Case of Wagner," "The Twilight of the Idols," "The Antichrist," "Ecce Homo" "Nietzsche contra Wagner," and an enormous number of notes which were to constitute his final and great philosophical work, "The Will to Power." The cold reception with which his books met tended to discourage him and to retard his physical recovery. His "Zarathustra" was as greatly misunderstood by the critics as had been his earlier volumes. With the exception of Burckhardt and Taine, the critics were unfavourable to "Beyond Good and Evil." "The Genealogy of Morals" met with scarcely more friendly a reception, and "The Case of Wagner," while arousing the ire of the Wagnerians, caused no comment of any kind in any other quarter. "The Twilight of the Idols" appeared about the time of his breakdown, and "The Antichrist" and "Ecce Homo" were not published until long after his death. The notes on "The Will to Power" have only recently been put together and issued.

The events during this period of Nietzsche's career were few. Perhaps the most important was his meeting with Miss Lou Salomé. But even this episode had small bearing on his life, and has been unduly emphasised by biographers because of its isolation in an existence outwardly drab and uneventful. It was while Nietzsche was at Tautenburg that Paul Rée and another friend, Malvida von Mysenburg, hearing that he was in need of a secretary, sent to him Miss Salomé, a young Russian Jewess. That it would have been difficult to find a person less suited to the philosopher's needs was borne out by subsequent events. According to some accounts Nietzsche fell mildly in love with her, and was upset and irritated by her aloofness. But such a hypothesis is substantiated only by the flimsiest of evidence, and, when we take into consideration the temperamental gulf between these two people, it is highly incredible that Nietzsche had any desire to form an alliance with his amanuensis. The truth of the matter probably is that the philosopher was sadly disappointed in his secretary—if not indeed disgusted with her—and, in showing his regret, piqued her to retaliation. In fact, we have a letter from Nietzsche to the young lady which bears out this contention. In any event, we know that their companionship lasted but a short time and that Miss Salomé wrote a most inept and unreliable book on Nietzsche, "Friedrich Nietzsche in seinen Werken" published in Vienna in 1894. The affair had other painful results. Rée defended his protegée, and he and Nietzsche became bitter enemies. Nietzsche's sister also was dragged into the episode, and quarrelled with both Rée and Miss Salomé.

Shortly after this unpleasant event, Nietzsche, urged by his sister, made a half-hearted attempt to secure a professorship at the University of Leipzig, but negotiations for the post fell through, due largely to Nietzsche's own indifference in the matter. Soon after this the philosopher became estranged from his sister because of her intention to marry Dr. Förster. Nietzsche's opposition to the marriage—an opposition which was supported by his mother—was due to several reasons. First, it would necessitate his sister leaving him and accompanying her husband to Paraguay. Secondly, it had been rumoured that Dr. Förster had severely criticised his books. And thirdly, Nietzsche had small respect for Dr. Förster himself, who was an impractical idealist and an anti-Semite. However, despite all the family protestations, the marriage took place. Nietzsche was disappointed and brooded over the event, but a year later he became reconciled with his sister, and she remained, to the end of his life, his closest friend and companion.

In January, 1889, an apoplectic fit, which rendered Nietzsche unconscious for two days, marked the beginning of the end. His manner suddenly became alarming. He exhibited numerous eccentricities, so grave as to mean but one thing: his mind was seriously affected. There has long been a theory extant that his insanity was of gradual growth. Nordau holds that he was unbalanced from birth. But there is no evidence to substantiate these two theories. For seven years Nietzsche's physical condition had been improving, and his mind up to the end of 1888 was perfectly clear and gave no indication of what his end would be. During this period his books were thought out in his most clarified manner; in all his intercourse with his friends he was restrained and normal; and his voluminous correspondence showed no change either in sentiment or in tone. The theory advanced in some quarters that his books, and especially his later ones, were the work of a madman, is entirely without foundation. His insanity was sudden; it came without warning; and it is puerile to point to his state of mind during the last years of his life as a criticism of his work. His books must stand or fall on internal evidence—and on nothing else. Judged from that standpoint they are scrupulously sane.

The direct cause of Nietzsche's mental breakdown is not known. As a matter of fact, there was probably no direct cause. It was due to a number of influences—his excessive use of chloral which he took for insomnia, the tremendous strain to which he put his intellect, his constant disappointments and deprivations, his mental solitude, his prolonged physical suffering. We know little of his last days before he went insane. He was living alone in Turin and working desperately. Then suddenly to Professor Burckhardt at Bale he wrote a letter which was obviously the work of a madman. "I am Ferdinand de Lesseps," he wrote. "I am Prado. I am Schambige.[1] I have been buried twice this autumn." This was the first indication of his insanity. Immediately after he wrote a similar letter to his old friend, Professor Overbeck. Other of Nietzsche's friends received disquieting and indecipherable notes. To Georg Brandes he sent a letter signed "The Crucified." To Peter Gast he wrote, "Sing me a new song. The world is clear and all the skies rejoice." To Cosima Wagner: "Ariadne, I love you."

There was now no doubt of his condition. Overbeck went immediately to Turin. He found the philosopher playing wildly on the piano, and crying blasphemies to the empty room. Nietzsche was taken back to Bâle, and then placed in a private psychiatric institution at Jena. Here he stayed until the following spring when he was permitted to be taken to the home of his mother at Naumburg. It was three years later that his sister returned from Paraguay, where her husband had died, and Nietzsche was sufficiently recovered to meet her when she arrived. But though he lived for another seven years, his mind was irretrievably ruined. When his mother died in 1897, his sister removed him to a villa at Weimar. There on a great veranda, overlooking the hills and the river valley, he remained until the end, receiving a few of his friends and taking his old delight in music. His sister watched over him tenderly, and though he was never strong enough to resume work, he would often talk of his books. When shown a portrait of Wagner, he said, "Him I loved dearly." He was all tenderness toward the end. The mighty yea-sayer had become as a little child. "Elizabeth," he would say, "do not cry. Are we not happy?"

Nietzsche died on the 25th of August, 1900, and was buried at Röcken, his native village.

[1] Schambige and Prado were two assassins whose exploits were then occupying the French journals.

II

"Human, All-Too-Human"

Volumes I and II

"Human, All-Too-Human" ("Menschliches Allzu Menschliches") was first published in 1878. Previous to this time Nietzsche had devoted himself to a sedulous study of the French philosophers—Pascal, La Rochefoucauld, Vanergues, Montaigne and others—and these men influenced him in his selection of the aphoristic style as a medium for his thoughts. His serious illness at the time made it impossible for him to attempt any large and co-ordinated philosophical task which would have required sustained thinking and continual physical labour, and the detached manner of writing employed by the French thinkers fitted in with the intermittent manner in which he was necessitated to work. "Miscellaneous Maxims and Opinions," the second part of "Human, All-Too-Human," appeared the following year; and "The Wanderer and his Shadow," the third section, was made public in 1880. Six years later these three parts were put together in two volumes under the caption of the original book, and were subtitled "A Book of Free Spirits."

At that time Nietzsche already had numerous writings to his credit. "The Birth of Tragedy" ("Die Geburt der Tragödie") was composed between 1869 and 1871, and issued in January, 1872. It was a treatise on pessimism and Hellenism, and in it Nietzsche endeavoured to ascertain the origin of Greek tragedy. In his research he passed over many of the lesser philological discussions which were then occupying the minds of his academic confrères, and, mild as was this first published work of his, he suddenly found himself the centre of a discussion which augured ill for his future at the University of Bâle. In this book he undertook to explain the constant conflict between the Apollonian and Dionysian ideals, and defined the differences underlying these two great influences in Greek art. Later in his writings we find him applying the theories stated in "The Birth of Tragedy" to all human transactions.

"On the Future of our Educational Institutions" and "Homer and Classical Philology," contained in one volume, were addresses delivered during Nietzsche's professorship of classical philology at Bâle University. In these lectures he pointed out the necessity of protecting the man of genius, and denied the existence of actual culture in the educational institutions of modern Germany, holding that true culture is only for the higher type of man. He made a plea for an institution where genuine culture, founded on the ideals of ancient Greece, would be harboured for the few who would devote their lives to it. Here unquestionably was the faint beginning of his conception of the superman. While these lectures dealt only with the educational institutions of Germany, the criticisms in them may nevertheless be applied in a broader sense to the general principles underlying all schools. This book is the first visible step in the development of his thought.

More evidences of what was to come later are found in a series of essays written during the early seventies, which are now published under the general caption of "Early Greek Philosophy and Other Essays." The seven essays contained in this volume are: "The Greek State" (1871), in which he attacked the modern conception of labour, and advanced a brief for slavery based on the assumption that without it true culture cannot exist; "The Greek Woman" (1871), an outline of Nietzsche's ideal of woman; "On Music and Words" (1871), an analysis of the origins of music and language and a statement of the functions of each; "Homer's Contest" (1872), a comparison of the ancient and modern individualistic strife, in which was pointed out the necessity of competition in any successful commonwealth; "The Relation of Schopenhauer's Philosophy to a German Culture" (1872), a gay attack upon certain phases of German philistinism, with the suggestion that Schopenhauer's philosophy would prove an excellent counter-irritant; "Philosophy During the Tragic Age of the Greeks" (1873), a brilliant account and exposition of those Greek thinkers who preceded Socrates; and "On Truth and Falsity in their Ultramoral Sense" (1873), a rhapsodic refutation of the theory of absolute truth, in which we find many denials of the values attached to current conventions. These denials we are constantly meeting in the major part of Nietzsche's later work.

In Volume I of "Thoughts Out of Season" we find two essays: "David Strauss, the Confessor and Writer" (written in 1873), and "Richard Wagner at Bayreuth" (written during the close of 1875 and at the beginning of 1876). The first essay is an attack upon an ex-clerical who set up a philosopher's shop in Nietzsche's day and succeeded in sufficiently inflaming the popular mind to secure for himself a wide and ardent following. Nietzsche, angered by the effect that Strauss's sophistries had upon the German mind, undertook to answer them and show up their spuriousness. In the essay on Richard Wagner, Nietzsche praised the composer in no uncertain terms, hailing him as a saviour of mankind through the medium of the drama. Nietzsche thought he saw in Wagner a kindred spirit, a man free from the narrow dictates of his time, one capable of establishing a new order of things in the realm of art. Subsequently the philosopher turned against Wagner and denounced him bitterly for his anti-Hellenic tendencies.

Volume II of "Thoughts out of Season" contains "The Use and Abuse of History" and "Schopenhauer as Educator," both written in 1874. In the first of these essays Nietzsche attacked the study of history which was then the foremost educational fad in Germany. He denied it a place in the curriculum of culture unless it had for its foundation a profound knowledge of the causes of history. Also in this essay he made a plea for the individualistic interpretation of history, arguing that the events founded on the activities of majorities are useless to a true understanding of the fundamentals of racial development. Here again we encounter the foreshadowing of the philosophy of the superman. Nietzsche paid high tribute to Schopenhauer in his essay "Schopenhauer as Educator." Without subscribing unqualifiedly to all the doctrines of the great pessimist, he nevertheless allied himself philosophically with Schopenhauer's theory that all logic is an outgrowth of the law of self-preservation.

In the autumn of 1874 Nietzsche wrote a series of brief comments dealing with the subject of education. These paragraphs contain about 20,000 words, and were to have constituted, when completed, the fifth part of "Thoughts Out of Season." He never finished them, however, and they were not published until after his death. These fragments appear, under the caption of "We Philologists," at the end of the volume entitled "The Case of Wagner." "We Philologists" is a protest against the manner in which classical culture was promulgated in the universities. It offers a stinging criticism of those German professors, the philologists, to whom was entrusted the duty of disseminating Greek cultural ideals, and in addition presents a concise outline of what genuine Hellenic culture should consist. Nietzsche protests against the filtering of pagan antiquity through Christian doctrines—the method of teaching then in vogue—and insists that such a form of education entirely misses its aim. Although "We Philologists" is comparatively of small value to the student of Nietzsche's later philosophy, it is interesting to note that as early as 1874, his anti-Christian spirit was already well defined.

The four essays contained in the two volumes of "Thoughts out of Season" and "We Philologists" were the first of an intended series of pamphlets to be called "Unzeitgemässe Betrachtungen"[1] but the series was never finished. However, the Nietzschean philosophical ideas had unquestionably begun to take definite form. Already there had been attempts at idealistic and moralistic valuations. There had also been a considerable amount of that preliminary analysis which was to form a foundation for the destructive and constructive thoughts of later years. In these essays Nietzsche had already begun to strike his bearings, and while they cannot be taken as a part of his philosophical scheme, they nevertheless form an excellent introduction for those students who care to go behind the final expression of his ideas and behold them in embryo.

"Human, All-Too-Human," following two years later, came as a distinct surprise even to Nietzsche's most intimate friends: Wagner especially was horrified at the heresies contained in it. There had not been sufficient indications in his earlier writings for one to predict so devastating an arraignment of modern life as was contained in this work. It was a departure, not only in thought but also in manner, from all else he had written. The conventional essay form had been set aside for an aphoristic style. Here we find a series of paragraphs varying in length from a few lines to a page or more, each dealing with a separate and syllogistically detached idea. The epigram, which was to play such an important part in all of Nietzsche's writings, is also found in abundance. The form in which these two volumes are cast gives the effect of a man felling a giant tree with a thousand blows of an axe, as distinguished from the method of the man who saws it down gradually and continuously.

Despite its muscular and incisive qualities, the manner of this work is calm. As a whole it is an excellent example of those writings which Nietzsche himself has called Apollonian. At times one even feels a tentativeness in its utterances not unlike that which attaches to the steps a man takes in a region he knows to be full of quicksands. In this regard it is interesting to note how a certain insecurity at the beginning of the work, which manifests itself in ultra-obscure passages, later gives way to a clarity and humour indicative of almost wanton temerity. In this book Nietzsche passes from the academician to the iconoclast. He bridges the chasm from the doctor of philology to the independent thinker. It is the record of the psychological transition of his mind; and this record is evident in both his outlook and his habits of expression.

Nietzsche, at his birth as a thinker, presents himself as an arch-nihilist. He realised the necessity of destroying the universe before an understanding of it was possible, and so the two volumes of "Human, All-Too-Human" are almost entirely destructive. In this work we have Nietzsche the trail-blazer, the incendiary, the idol-smasher, the pessimist, the devastator. One by one the doctrines and tenets, strengthened by the accumulative acceptance of centuries, go down before his bludgeon. Piece by piece the universe of reality is neutralised by his analyses. Every human transaction, every phase of human hope and aspiration, is reduced to negation. Ancient and modern cultures are dissected unsparingly. Political systems are stripped of their integuments and their origins exposed. New valuations are attached to the great artists and writers. Many of Nietzsche's most famous definitions grow out of the ruthless inquests he makes in this work.

This uncompassionate clearing away of accepted values prepared the way for the books which were to come. Once having ascertained the foundation on which human actions are built, the path was clear for reconstruction and reorganisation. "Human, All-Too-Human," then, was the first indirect voicing of Nietzsche's philosophy. All else had been mere skirmishing with ideas. Only vaguely and desultorily had his opinions been heretofore voiced. His analysis of history, his criticisms of ancient and modern thought, had actually pried away the superficial manifestations of existence and given him that insight into the undercurrents of causation which was later to inspire him in his work. For this reason we are more conscious of the man than of the philosopher when reading the series of aphorisms which constitute the main body of this document. "Human, All-Too-Human" is in the main an inquiry into the fundamental reasons for human conduct. Nietzsche devotes his efforts to showing that ideals, when pushed to their final analysis, reveal a basis in human need. Especially does he concern himself with the causes underlying current moral doctrines. He points out that there is no static and absolute morality, but that all moral codes are systems of deportment founded on human conditions in accordance with the environmental needs of a people. From this he states the corollary that all morality is subject to alteration, amendment and abrogation. He asserts the relativity of the terms "good" and "evil," and denies the justice of any final criticism of right and wrong as applied to any human action.

From this Nietzsche deduces the formula which is at the bottom of all individualistic philosophy, namely: that what is immoral for one man is moral for another, and that the application of any moral code is undesirable for the reason that no system of conduct can apply alike to all men. Thus any attempt on the part of any one man to direct the actions of any other man is in itself an immorality, because it is an attempt to hinder and retard the development of the individual. It must not be thought that Nietzsche's arrival at this conclusion is a direct and simple affair based on superficial observation. Nor is it in itself the end for which he strives. To the contrary, the conclusion is stated mainly by inference. The work he lays out for himself is one of analysis, and under his critical scalpel fall religions, political institutions and nations, as well as individuals. Wherever he finds a belief whose origin is considered divine, he tears away its surface characteristics and inquires into it. In every instance he finds a human ground for it. Going still further, he points out that all institutions, in order to meet the constantly fluctuating conditions of society, must subject themselves to change.

A multiplicity of themes comes under Nietzsche's observation in this work. Not only is there a great deal of abstract reasoning but also a vast amount of brilliant and penetrating criticism of men and art. Ancient and modern philosophers, novelists, poets, musicians, dramatists, as well as theories of art, literature and music, here come under his careful and acute analysis. There are passages of startling poetry interpolated between paragraphs of cynical and destructive research. Nietzsche reveals himself as a scholar, the philologist, the historian and the scientist, as well as the thinker. The amount of general knowledge he displays in nearly every line of human endeavour is astonishing. In his most elaborate processes of ratiocination he is always capable of adhering to authenticated facts. He never side-steps into the purely metaphysical or denies the existence of corporeality once it has been assumed as a hypothesis. He breaks once and for all with the metaphysicians and word-jugglers. Denying all reason in the Kantian sense, he is always scrupulously reasonable.

Although no direct philosophical doctrines are propounded in "Human, All-Too-Human," Nietzsche had undoubtedly outlined in his mind the constructive works which were to come later. However, in reading this work one finds but little indication—and that only obscurely hinted at—of the transvaluation of values which was to follow the devaluation. We have no hint, for instance, of the doctrine of the superman other than an implied ideal of an intellectual aristocracy which will permit of the highest development; of the individual. Evolution beyond the present is mentioned but indirectly. The future, to this destructive Nietzsche, is non-existent. His eyes are continually turned toward the past and they shift no further than the present. Only through implication is the Hellenic ideal voiced, and then it is with a certain degree of speculation as to its efficacy in meeting the demands of the modern man. Greek culture is used largely as a means of comparison, or as an arbitrary premise of his dialectic. The doctrine of eternal recurrence, which was to form one of the bases of "Thus Spake Zarathustra," is not even suggested. The "will to power," the anti-Schopenhauerian doctrine, which is the framework on which all of Nietzsche's constructive thinking is hung, was, at the time of his writing "Human, All-Too-Human," a hypothesis, vague and undeveloped.

"Human, All-Too-Human" is the first work of Nietzsche one should read. In reality it is an elaborate introduction to his later works. In his following book, "The Dawn of Day," comes the birth of his philosophy; it is the first real battle in his righteous warfare, the first great blasphemous assault upon the accepted order of things. But it cannot be readily understood or appreciated unless we have prepared ourselves for it.

The selection of the passages from the present two volumes has been extremely difficult, due to their multiplicity of themes and to the heterogeneity of their treatment. It is impossible to create a convincing effect of a razed forest by presenting a picture of an occasional fallen tree. Herein has lain my chief difficulty. I have been able to show only sections of the destruction of human values which Nietzsche here accomplishes. Furthermore, it has been impossible to give any very adequate idea of the vast amount of brilliant criticism of men and art which is to be encountered in these two volumes. All this must be got direct. It has been possible only to suggest it here. Those portions of the books which I have been able to comprehend in these excerpts are necessarily limited to Nietzsche's more important destructive conclusions.

[1] "Inopportune Speculations."

EXCERPTS FROM "HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN"

Everything essential in human development happened in pre-historic times, long before those four thousand years which we know something of.... 1, 15

Everything has evolved; there are no eternal facts, as there are likewise no absolute truths. 1, 15

It is probable that the objects of religious, moral, æsthetic and logical sentiment likewise belong only to the surface of things, while man willingly believes that here, at least, he has touched the heart of the world.... 1, 17

Nothing could be said of the metaphysical world but that it would be a different condition, a condition inaccessible and incomprehensible to us; it would be a thing of negative qualities. Were the existence of such a world ever so well proved, the fact would nevertheless remain that it would be precisely the most irrelevant of all forms of knowledge.... 1, 21-22

Belief in the freedom of the will is an original error of everything organic, as old as the existence of the awakenings of logic in it; the belief in unconditioned substances and similar things is equally a primordial as well as an old error of everything organic. 1, 33

A degree of culture, and assuredly a very high one, is attained when man rises above superstitious and religious notions and fears, and, for instance, no longer believes in guardian angels or in original sin, and has also ceased to talk of the salvation of his soul,—if he has attained to this degree of freedom, he has still also to overcome metaphysics with the greatest exertion of his intelligence. 1, 35

Away with those wearisomely hackneyed terms Optimism and Pessimism!... We must get rid of both the calumniating and the glorifying conception of the world. 1, 43-44

Error has made man so deep, sensitive, and inventive that he has put forth such blossoms as religions and arts. Pure knowledge could not have been capable of it. 1, 44-45

The usual false conclusions of mankind are these: a thing exists, therefore it has a right to exist. Here there is inference from the ability to live to its suitability; from its suitability to its rightfulness. Then: an opinion brings happiness; therefore it is the true opinion. Its effect is good; therefore it is itself good and true. 1, 45

Every belief in the value and worthiness of life is based on vitiated thought; it is only possible through the fact that sympathy for the general life and suffering of mankind is very weakly developed in the individual. 1, 47-48

Science ... has no consideration for ultimate purposes, any more than Nature has, but just as the latter occasionally achieves things of the greatest suitableness without intending to do so, so also true science, as the imitator of nature in ideas, will occasionally and in many ways further the usefulness and welfare of man,—but also without intending to do so. 1, 58

All single actions are called good or bad without any regard to their motives, but only on account of the useful or injurious consequences which result for the community. But soon the origin of these distinctions is forgotten, and it is deemed that the qualities "good" or "bad" are contained in the action itself without regard to its consequences.... 1, 59

The hierarchy of possessions ... is not fixed and equal at all times; if any one prefers vengeance to justice he is moral according to the standard of an earlier civilisation, but immoral according to the present one. 1, 63

People who are cruel nowadays must be accounted for by us as the grades of earlier civilisations which have survived.... 1, 63

Certainly we should exhibit pity, but take good care not to feel it, for the unfortunate are so stupid that to them the exhibition of pity is the greatest good in the world. 1, 68

The thirst for pity is the thirst for self-gratification.... 1, 69

There must be self-deception in order that this and that may produce great effects. For men believe in the truth of everything that is visibly, strongly believed in. 1, 71

One of the commonest mistakes is this: because some one is truthful and honest towards us, he must speak the truth. 1, 71

Why do people mostly speak the truth in daily life?... Because ... the path of compulsion and authority is surer than that of cunning. 1,72

One may promise actions, but no sentiments, for these are involuntary. 1, 76

Our crime against criminals lies in the fact that we treat them like rascals. 1,79

Every virtue has its privileges; for example, that of contributing its own little fagot to the scaffold of every condemned man. 1, 80

Why do we over-estimate love to the disadvantage of justice, and say the most beautiful things about it, as if it were something very much higher than the latter? Is it not visibly more stupid than justice? Certainly, but precisely for that reason all the pleasanter for every one. 1, 81

Hope,—in reality ... is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man. 1, 82

One will seldom go wrong if one attributes extreme actions to vanity, average ones to habit, and petty ones to fear. 1, 83

Religion is rich in excuses to reply to the demand for suicide, and thus it ingratiates itself with those who wish to cling to life. 1, 85-86

The injustice of the powerful, which, more than anything else, rouses indignation in history, is by no means so great as it appears.... One unconsciously takes it for granted that doer and sufferer think and feel alike, and according to this supposition we measure the guilt of the one by the pain of the other. 1, 86-87

When virtue has slept, it will arise again all the fresher. 1, 87

What a great deal of pleasure morality gives! Only think what a sea of pleasant tears has been shed over descriptions of noble and unselfish deeds! This charm of life would vanish if the belief in absolute irresponsibility Were to obtain supremacy. 1, 90

Justice (equity) has its origin amongst powers which are fairly equal.... The character of exchange is the primary character of justice.... Because man, according to his intellectual custom, has forgotten the original purpose of so-called just and reasonable actions, and particularly because for hundreds of years children have been taught to admire and imitate such actions, the idea has gradually arisen that such an action is un-egoistic; upon this idea, however, is based the high estimation in which it is held.... 1, 90-91

The feeling of pleasure on the basis of human relations generally makes man better; joy in common, pleasure enjoyed together is increased, it gives the individual security, makes him good-tempered, and dispels mistrust and envy, for we feel ourselves at ease and see others at ease. Similar manifestations of pleasure awaken the idea of the same sensations, the feeling of being like something; a like effect is produced by common sufferings, the same bad weather, dangers, enemies. Upon this foundation is based the oldest alliance, the object of which is the mutual obviating and averting of a threatening danger for the benefit of each individual. And thus the social instinct grows out of pleasure. 1, 97

The aim of malice is not the suffering of others in itself, but our own enjoyment.... 1, 102

If self-defence is allowed to pass as moral, then almost all manifestations of the so-called immoral egoism must also stand.... 1, 104

He who is punished does not deserve the punishment, he is only used as a means of henceforth warning away from certain actions; equally so, he who is rewarded does not merit this reward, he could not act otherwise than he did. 1, 105

Between good and evil actions there is no difference of species, but at most of degree. Good actions are sublimated evil ones; evil actions are vulgarised and stupefied good ones. 1, 108

The religious cult is based upon the representations of sorcery between man and man.... 1, 121

Christianity ... oppressed man and crushed him utterly, sinking him as if in deep mire; then into the feeling of absolute depravity it suddenly threw the light of divine mercy, so that the surprised man, dazzled by forgiveness, gave a cry of joy and for a moment believed that he bore all heaven within himself. 1, 124

People to whom their daily life appears too empty and monotonous easily grow religious; this is comprehensible and excusable, only they have no right to demand religious sentiments from those whose daily life is not empty and monotonous. 1, 125

No man ever did a thing which was done only for others and without any personal motive.... 1, 134

In every ascetic morality man worships one part of himself as a God, and is obliged, therefore, to diabolise the other parts. 1, 140

What is it that we long for at the sight of beauty? We long to be beautiful, we fancy it must bring much happiness with it. But that is a mistake. 1, 156

There is an art of the ugly soul side by side with the art of the beautiful soul.... 1, 157

Artists of representation are especially held to be possessed of genius, but not scientific men. In reality, however, the former valuation and the latter under-valuation are only puerilities of reason. 1, 166-167

A good author possesses not only his own intellect, but also that of his friends. 1, 178

To look upon writing as a regular profession should justly be regarded as a form of madness. 1, 181

A conversation with a friend will only bear good fruit of knowledge when both think only of the matter under consideration and forget that they are friends. 1, 183

Complete praise has a weakening effect. 1, 184

There will always be a need of bad authors; for they meet the taste of readers of an undeveloped, immature age.... 1, 185

The born aristocrats of the mind are not in too much of a hurry; their creations appear and fall from the tree on some quiet autumn evening, without being rashly desired, instigated, or pushed aside by new matter. The unceasing desire to create is vulgar, and betrays envy, jealousy, and ambition. If a man is something, it is not really necessary for him to do anything—and yet he does a great deal. There is a human species higher even than the "productive" man.... 1, 189

Deviating natures are of the utmost importance wherever there is to be progress. Every wholesale progress must be preceded by a partial weakening. The strongest natures retain the type, the weaker ones help it to develop. 1, 208

In the knowledge of truth, what really matters is the possession of it, not the impulse under which it was sought, the way in which it was found. 1, 210

The fettered spirit does not take up his position from conviction, but from habit; he is a Christian, for instance, not because he had a comprehension of different creeds and could take his choice; he is an Englishman, not because he decided for England, but he found Christianity and England ready-made and accepted them without any reason, just as one who is born in a wine-country becomes a wine-drinker. 1, 211

The restriction of views, which habit has made instinct, leads to what is called strength of character. 1, 212-213

The highest intelligence and the warmest heart cannot exist together in one person, and the wise man who passes judgment upon life looks beyond goodness and only regards it as something which is not without value in the general summing-up of life. The wise man must oppose those digressive wishes of unintelligent goodness, because he has an interest in the continuance of his type and in the eventual appearance of the highest intellect; at least, he will not advance the founding of the "perfect State," inasmuch as there is only room in it for wearied individuals. 1, 218-219

Interest in Education will acquire great strength only from the moment when belief in a God and His care is renounced.... An education that no longer believes in miracles must pay attention to three things: first, how much energy is inherited? secondly, by what means can new energy be aroused? thirdly, how can the individual be adapted to so many and manifold claims of culture without being disquieted and destroying his personality,—in short, how can the individual be initiated into the counterpoint of private and public culture, how can he lead the melody and at the same time accompany it. 1, 224-225

A higher culture must give man a double brain, two brain-chambers, so to speak, one to feel science and the other to feel non-science, which can lie side by side, without confusion, divisible, exclusive; this is a necessity of health. In one part lies the source of strength, in the other lies the regulator; it must be heated with illusions, onesidednesses, passions; and the malicious and dangerous consequences of overheating must be averted by the help of conscious Science. 1, 232

Simultaneous things hold together, it is said. A relative dies far away, and at the same time we dream about him,—Consequently! But countless relatives die and we do not dream about them.... This species of superstition is found again in a refined form in historians and delineators of culture, who usually have a kind of hydrophobic horror of all that senseless mixture, in which individual and national life is so rich. 1, 235

It is true that in the spheres of higher culture there must always be a supremacy, but henceforth this supremacy lies in the hands of the oligarchs of the mind. In spite of local and political separation they form a cohesive society, whose members recognise and acknowledge each other, whatever public opinion and the verdicts of review and newspaper writers who influence the masses may circulate in favour of or against them. Mental superiority, which formerly divided and embittered, nowadays generally unites. ... Oligarchs are necessary to each other, they are each other's best joy, they understand their signs, but each is nevertheless free, he fights and conquers in his place and perishes rather than submit. 1, 243

The greatest advance that men have made lies in their acquisition of the art to reason rightly. 1, 249-250

The strength and weakness of mental productiveness depend far less on inherited talents than on the accompanying amount of elasticity. 1, 250

Whoever, in the present day, still derives his development from religious sentiments, and perhaps lives for some length of time afterwards in metaphysics and art, has assuredly gone back a considerable distance and begins his race with other modern men under unfavourable conditions; he apparently loses time and space. But because he stays in those domains where ardour and energy are liberated and force flows continuously as a volcanic stream out of an inexhaustible source, he goes forward all the more quickly as soon as he has freed himself at the right moment from those dominators.... 1, 252

Whoever wishes to reap happiness and comfort in life should always avoid higher culture. 1, 255-250

All mankind is divided, as it was at all times and is still, into slaves and freemen; for whoever has not two-thirds of his day for himself is a slave.... 1, 259

If idleness is really the beginning of all vice, it finds itself, therefore, at least in near neighbourhood of all the virtues; the idle man is still a better man than the active. You do not suppose that in speaking of idleness and idlers I am alluding to you, you sluggards? 1, 260

I believe that every one must have his own opinion about everything concerning which opinions are possible, because he himself is a peculiar, unique thing, which assumes towards all other things a new and never hitherto existing attitude. 1, 260-261

Whoever earnestly desires to be free will therewith and without any compulsion lose all inclination for faults and vices; he will also be more rarely overcome by anger and vexation. 1, 261-262

You must have loved religion and art as you loved mother and nurse,—otherwise you cannot be wise. But you must be able to see beyond them, to outgrow them; if you remain under their ban you do not understand them. 1, 264

The rage for equality may so manifest itself that we seek either to draw all others down to ourselves (by belittling, disregarding, and tripping up), or ourselves and all others upwards (by recognition, assistance, and congratulation). 1, 268

We set no special value on the possession of a virtue until we perceive that it is entirely lacking in our adversary. 1, 269

We forget our pretensions when we are always conscious of being amongst meritorious people; being alone implants presumption in us. The young are pretentious, for they associate with their equals, who are all ciphers but would fain have a great significance. 1, 271

In warring against stupidity, the most just and gentle of men at last become brutal. They are thereby, perhaps, taking the proper course for defence; for the most appropriate argument for a stupid brain is the clenched fist. But because, as has been said, their character is just and gentle, they suffer more by this means of protection than they injure their opponents by it. 1, 284

The perfect woman is a higher type of humanity than the perfect man, and also something much rarer. 1, 295

Every one bears within him an image of woman, inherited from his mother: it determines his attitude towards woman as a whole, whether to honour, despise, or remain generally indifferent to them. 1, 295-296

Mothers are readily jealous of the friends of sons who are particularly successful. As a rule mother loves herself in her son more than the son. 1, 296

If married couples did not live together, happy marriages would be more frequent. 1, 298

As a rule women love a distinguished man to the extent that they wish to possess him exclusively. They would gladly keep him under lock and key, if their vanity did not forbid, but vanity demands that he should also appear distinguished before others. 1, 299

Those girls who mean to trust exclusively to their youthful charms for their provision in life, and whose cunning is further prompted by worldly mothers, have just the same aims as courtesans, only they are wiser and less honest. 1, 300

For goodness' sake let us not give our classical education to girls! 1, 301

The intellect of woman manifests itself as perfect mastery, presence of mind, and utilisation of all advantages. They transmit it as a fundamental quality to their children, and the father adds thereto the darker background of the will. His influence determines as it were the rhythm and harmony with which the new life is to be performed; but its melody is derived from the mother. For those who know how to put a thing properly: women have intelligence, men have character and passion. This does not contradict the fact that men actually achieve so much more with their intelligence: they have deeper and more powerful impulses; and it is these which carry their understanding (in itself something passive) to such an extent. Women are often silently surprised at the great respect men pay to their character. When, therefore, in the choice of a partner men seek specially for a being of deep and strong character, and women for a being of intelligence, brilliancy, and presence of mind, it is plain that at bottom men seek for the ideal man, and women for the ideal woman,—consequently not for the complement but for the completion of their own excellence. 1, 302-303.

It is a sign of women's wisdom that they have almost always known how to get themselves supported, like drones in a bee-hive. Let us just consider what this meant originally, and why men do not depend upon women for their support. Of a truth it is because masculine vanity and reverence are greater than feminine wisdom; for women have known how to secure for themselves by their subordination the greatest advantage, in fact, the upper hand. Even the care of children may originally have been used by the wisdom of women as an excuse for withdrawing themselves as much as possible from work. And at present they still understand when they are really active (as housekeepers, for instance) how to make a bewildering fuss about it, so that the merit of their activity is usually ten times over-estimated by men. 1, 303

Marriage is a necessary institution for the twenties; a useful, but not necessary, institution for the thirties; for later life it is often harmful, and promotes the mental deterioration of the man. 1, 308

Marriage regarded in its highest aspect, as the spiritual friendship of two persons of opposite sexes, and accordingly such as is hoped for in future, contracted for the purpose of producing and educating a new generation,—such marriage, which only makes use of the sensual, so to speak, as a rare and occasional means to a higher purpose, will, it is to be feared, probably need a natural auxiliary, namely, concubinage. For if, on the grounds of his health, the wife is also to serve, for the sole satisfaction of the man's sexual needs, a wrong perspective, opposed to the aims indicated, will have most influence in the choice of a wife. The aims referred to: the production of descendants, will be accidental, and their successful education highly improbable. 1, 309

We always lose through too familiar association with women and friends; and sometimes we lose the pearl of of our life thereby. 1, 312

Women always intrigue privately against the higher souls of their husbands; they want to cheat them out of their future for the sake of a painless and comfortable present. 1, 315

It is laughable when a company of paupers decree the abolition of the right of inheritance, and it is not less laughable when childless persons labour for the practical law-giving of a country: they have not enough ballast in their ship to sail safely over the ocean of the future. But it seems equally senseless if a man who has chosen for his mission the widest knowledge and estimation of universal existence, burdens himself with personal considerations of a family, with the support, protection, and care of wife and child, and in front of his telescope hangs that gloomy veil through which hardly a ray from the distant firmament can penetrate. Thus 1, too, agree with the opinion that in matters of the highest philosophy all married men are to be suspected. 1, 316

A higher culture can only originate where there are two distinct castes of society: that of the working class, and that of the leisured class who are capable of true leisure; or, more strongly expressed, the caste of compulsory labour and the caste of free labour. 1, 319

Against war it may be said that it makes the victor stupid and the vanquished revengeful. In favour of war it may be said that it barbarises in both its above-named results, and thereby makes more natural; it is the sleep or the winter period of culture; man emerges from it with greater strength for good and for evil. 1, 322

As regards Socialism, in the eyes of those who always consider higher utility, if it is really a rising against their oppressors of those who for centuries have been oppressed and downtrodden, there is no problem of right involved (notwithstanding the ridiculous, effeminate question, "How far ought we to grant its demands?") but only a problem of power ("How far can we make use of its demands?") 1, 322

Well may noble (if not exactly very intelligent) representatives of the governing classes asseverate: "We will treat men equally and grant them equal rights"; so far a socialistic mode of thought which is based on justice is possible; but, as has been said, only within the ranks of the governing class, which in this case practises justice with sacrifices and abnegations. On the other hand, to demand equality of rights, as do the Socialists of the subject caste, is by no means the outcome of justice, but of covetousness. If you expose bloody pieces of flesh to a beast, and withdraw them again, until it finally begins to roar, do you think that roaring implies justice? 1, 326-327

When the Socialists point out that the division of property at the present day is the consequence of countless deeds of injustice and violence, and, in summa, repudiate obligation to anything with so unrighteous a basis, they only perceive something isolated. The entire past of ancient civilisation is built up on violence, slavery, deception, and error; we, however, cannot annul ourselves, the heirs of all these conditions, nay, the concrescences of all this past, and are not entitled to demand the withdrawal of a single fragment thereof. 1, 327

Those who are bent on revolutionising society may be divided into those who seek something for themselves thereby and those who seek something for their children and grandchildren. The latter are the more dangerous, for they have the belief and the good conscience of disinterestedness. 1, 329

The fact that we regard the gratification of vanity as of more account than all other forms of well-being (security, position, and pleasures of all sorts), is shown to a ludicrous extent by every one wishing for the abolition of slavery and utterly abhorring to put any one into this position.... We protest in the name of the "dignity of man"; but, expressed more simply, that is just our darling vanity which feels non-equality, and inferiority in public estimation, to be the hardest lot of all. 1, 330

In all institutions into which the sharp breeze of public criticism does not penetrate an innocent corruption grows up like a fungus (for instance, in learned bodies and senates). 1, 336

The belief in a divine regulation of political affairs, in a mystery in the existence of the State, is of religious origin: if religion disappears, the State will inevitably lose its old veil of Isis, and will no longer arouse veneration. The sovereignty of the people, looked at closely, serves also to dispel the final fascination and superstition in the realm of these sentiments; modern democracy is the historical form of the decay of the State. 1, 342

Socialism is the fantastic younger brother of almost decrepit despotism, which it wants to succeed; its efforts are, therefore, in the deepest sense reactionary. For it desires such an amount of State Power as only despotism has possessed,—indeed, it outdoes all the past, in that it aims at the complete annihilation of the individual, whom it deems an unauthorised luxury of nature, which is to be improved by it into an appropriate organ of the general community. Owing to its relationship, it always appears in proximity to excessive developments of power, like the old typical socialist, Plato, at the court of the Sicilian tyrant; it desires (and under certain circumstances furthers) the Cæsarian despotism of this century, because, as has been said, it would like to become its heir. But even this inheritance would not suffice for its objects, it requires the most submissive prostration of all citizens before the absolute State, such as has never yet been realised, and as it can no longer even count upon the old religious piety towards the State, but must rather strive involuntarily and continuously for the abolition thereof,—because it strives for the abolition of all existing States,—it can only hope for existence occasionally, here and there for short periods, by means of the extremest terrorism. It is therefore silently preparing itself for reigns of terror, and drives the word "justice" like a nail into the heads of the half-cultured masses in order to deprive them completely of their understanding (after they had already suffered seriously from the half-culture), and to provide them with a good conscience for the bad game they are to play. Socialism may serve to teach, very brutally and impressively, the danger of all accumulations of State power, and may serve so far to inspire distrust of the State itself. 1, 343-344

It is nothing but fanaticism and beautiful soulism to expect very much (or even, much only) from humanity when it has forgotten how to wage war. 1, 349

Wealth necessarily creates an aristocracy of race, for it permits the choice of the most beautiful women and the engagement of the best teachers; it allows a man cleanliness, time for physical exercises, and, above all, immunity from dulling physical labour. 1, 351

Public opinion—private laziness. 1, 354

Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies. 1, 355

The unreasonableness of a thing is no argument against its existence, but rather a condition thereof. 1, 361

People who talk about their importance to mankind have a feeble conscience for common bourgeois rectitude, keeping of contracts, promises, etc. 1, 363

The demand to be loved is the greatest of presumptions. 1, 363

When a man roars with laughter he surpasses all the animals by his vulgarity. 1, 369

The first opinion that occurs to us when we are suddenly asked about anything is not usually our own, but only the current opinion belonging to our caste, position, or family; our own opinions seldom float on the surface. 1, 372

Nobody talks more passionately of his rights than he who, in the depths of his soul, is doubtful about them. 1, 380.

Unconsciously we seek the principles and opinions which are suited to our temperament, so that at last it seems as if these principles and opinions had formed our character and given it support and stability, whereas exactly the contrary has taken place. Our thoughts and judgments are, apparently, to be taken subsequently as the causes of our nature, but as a matter of fact our nature is the cause of our so thinking and judging. 1, 384

The man of unpleasant character, full of distrust, envious of the success of fellow-competitors and neighbours, violent and enraged at divergent opinions, shows that he belongs to an earlier grade of culture, and is, therefore, an atavism; for the way in which he behaves to people was right and suitable only for an age of club-law; he is an atavist. The man of a different character, rich in sympathy, winning friends everywhere, finding all that is growing and becoming amiable, rejoicing at the honours and successes of others and claiming no privilege of solely knowing the truth, but full of a modest distrust,—he is a forerunner who presses upwards towards a higher human culture. 1, 388

He who has not passed through different phases of conviction, but sticks to the faith in whose net he was first caught, is, under all circumstances, just on account of this unchangeableness, a representative of atavistic culture.... 1, 400

Opinions evolve out of passions; indolence of intellect allows those to congeal into convictions. 1, 404

He who has attained intellectual emancipation to any extent cannot, for a long time, regard himself otherwise than as a wanderer on the face of the earth—and not even as a traveller towards a final goal, for there is no such thing. 1, 405

If we make it clear to any one that, strictly, he can never speak of truth, but only of probability and of its degrees, we generally discover, from the undisguised joy of our pupil, how greatly men prefer the uncertainty of their intellectual horizon, and how in their heart of hearts they hate truth because of its definiteness. 2, 15

With all that enthusiasts say in favour of their gospel or their master they are defending themselves, however much they comport themselves as the judges and not the accused: because they are involuntarily reminded almost at every moment that they are exceptions and have to assert their legitimacy. 2, 18

The belief in truth begins with the doubt of all truths in which one has previously believed. 2, 20

Philosophic brains will ... be distinguished from others by their disbelief in the metaphysical significance of morality. 2, 29

You hold that sacrifice is the hallmark of moral action?—Just consider whether in every action that is done with deliberation, in the best as in the worst, there be not a sacrifice. 2, 30

It is more convenient to follow one's conscience than one's intelligence, for at every failure conscience finds an excuse and an encouragement in itself. That is why there are so many conscientious and so few intelligent people. 2, 33

All moralists are shy, because they know they are confounded with spies and traitors, so soon as their penchant is noticed. Besides, they are generally conscious of being impotent in action, for in the midst of work the motives of their activity almost withdraw their attention from the work. 2, 42

No one accuses without an underlying notion of punishment and revenge, even when he accuses his fate or himself. All complaint is accusation, all self-congratulation is praise. Whether we do one or the other, we always make some one responsible. 2, 44

We must know how to emerge cleaner from unclean conditions, and, if necessary, how to wash ourselves even with dirty water. 2, 44

The origin of morality may be traced to two ideas: "The community is of more value than the individual," and "The permanent interest is to be preferred to the temporary." The conclusion drawn is that the permanent interest of the community is unconditionally to be set above the temporary interest of the individual, especially his momentary well-being, but also his permanent interest and even the prolongation of his existence. 2, 46-47

We should not shrink from treading the road to a virtue, even when we see clearly that nothing but egotism, and accordingly utility, personal comfort, fear, considerations of health, reputation, or glory, are the impelling motives. These motives are styled ignoble and selfish. Very well, but if they stimulate us to some virtue—for example, self-denial, dutifulness, order, thrift, measure, and moderation—let us listen to them, whatever their epithets may be! 2, 48

The tendency of a talent towards moral subjects, characters, motives, towards the "beautiful soul" of the work of art, is often only a glass eye put on by the artist who lacks a beautiful soul. 2, 78

Art is above all and meant to embellish life, to make us ourselves endurable and if possible agreeable in the eyes of others. With this task in view, art moderates us and holds us in restraint, creates forms of intercourse, binds over the uneducated to laws of decency, cleanliness, politeness, well-timed speech and silence. Hence art must conceal or transfigure everything that is ugly—the painful, terrible, and disgusting elements which in spite of every effort will always break out afresh in accordance with the very origin of human nature. Art has to perform this duty especially in regard to the passions and spiritual agonies and anxieties, and to cause the significant factor to shine through unavoidable or unconquerable ugliness. To this great, super-great task the so-called art proper, that of works of art, is a mere accessory. A man who feels within himself a surplus of such powers of embellishment, concealment, and transfiguration will finally seek to unburden himself of this surplus in works of art. The same holds good, under special circumstances, of a whole nation. 2, 01-92

On great minds is bestowed the terrifying all-too-human of their natures, their blindnesses, deformities, and extravagances, so that their more powerful, easily all-too-powerful influence may be continually held within bounds through the distrust aroused by such qualities. 2, 100

Original minds are distinguished not by being the first to see a new thing, but by seeing the old, well-known thing, which is seen and overlooked by every one, as something new. The first discoverer is usually that quite ordinary and unintellectual visionary—chance. 2, 105

The obvious satisfaction of the individual with his own form excites imitation and gradually creates the form of the many—that is, fashion. 2, 107

Who of us could dare to call himself a "free spirit" if he could not render homage after his fashion, by taking on his own shoulders a portion of that burden of public dislike and abuse, to men to whom this name is attached as a reproach? 2, 108

Immediate self-observation is not enough, by a long way, to enable us to learn to know ourselves. We need history, for the past continues to flow through us in a hundred channels. We ourselves are, after all, nothing but our own sensation at every moment of this continued flow. 2, 117

To young and fresh barbarian nations ... Christianity is a poison. 2, 120

Faith, indeed, has up to the present not been able to move real mountains, although I do not know who assumed that it could. But it can put mountains where there was none. 2, 121

Among travellers we may distinguish five grades. The first and lowest grade is of those who travel and are seen—they become really travelled and are, as it were, blind. Next come those who really see the world. The third class experience the results of their seeing. The fourth weave their experience into their life and carry it with them henceforth. Lastly, there are some men of the highest strength who, as soon as they have returned home, must finally and necessarily work out in their lives and productions all the things seen that they have experienced and incorporated in themselves.—Like these five species of travellers, all mankind goes through the whole pilgrimage of life, the lowest as purely passive, the highest as those who act and live out their lives without keeping back any residue of inner experiences. 2, 125

To treat all men with equal good-humour, and to be kind without distinctions of persons, may arise as much from a profound contempt for mankind as from an in-grained love of humanity. 2, 127

Towards science women and self-seeking artists entertain a feeling that is composed of envy and sentimentality. 2, 134

The intellectual strength of a woman is best proved by the fact that she offers her own intellect as a sacrifice out of love for a man and his intellect, and that nevertheless in the new domain, which was previously foreign to her nature, a second intellect at once arises as an aftergrowth, to which the man's mind impels her. 2, 136

By women Nature shows how far she has hitherto achieved her task of fashioning humanity, by man she shows what she has had overcome, and what she still proposes to do for humanity. 2, 137

Whence arises the sudden passion of a man for a woman, a passion so deep, so vital? Least of all from sensuality only: but when a man finds weakness, need of help, and high spirits united in the same creature, he suffers a sort of overflowing of soul, and is touched and offended at the same moment. At this point arises the source of great love. 2, 140

Profundity of thought belongs to youth, clarity of thought to old age. 2, 140

The only remedy against Socialism that still lies in your power is to avoid provoking Socialism—in other words, to live in moderation and contentment, to prevent as far as possible all lavish display, and to aid the State as far as possible in its taxing of all superfluities and luxuries. 2, 145

Only a man of intellect should hold property: otherwise property is dangerous to the community. For the owner, not knowing how to make use of the leisure which his possessions might secure to him, will continue to strive after more property.... It excites envy in the poor and uncultured—who at bottom always envy culture and see no mask in the mask—and gradually paves the way for a social revolution. 2, 147-148

Only up to a certain point does possession make men feel freer and more independent; one step farther, and possession becomes lord, the possessor a slave. 2, 149

The governments of the great States have two instruments for keeping the people independent, in fear and obedience: a coarser, the army, and a more refined, the school. 2, 152

To call a thing good not a day longer than it appears to us good, and above all not a day earlier—that is the only way to keep joy pure. 2, 158

To honour and acknowledge even the bad, when it pleases one, and to have no conception of how one could be ashamed of being pleased thereat, is the mark of sovereignty in things great and small. 2, 158-159

When life has treated us in true robber fashion, and has taken away all that it could of honour, joys, connections, health, and property of every kind, we perhaps discover in the end, after the first shock, that we are richer than before. For now we know for the first time what is so peculiarly ours that no robber hand can touch it, and perhaps, after all the plunder and devastation, we come forward with the airs of a mighty real estate owner. 2, 162

You rank far below others when you try to establish the exception and they the rule. 2, 167

The most senile thought ever conceived about men lies in the famous saying, "The ego is always hateful," the most childish in the still more famous saying, "Love thy neighbour as thyself."—With the one knowledge of men has ceased, with the other it has not yet begun. 2, 172

You find your burden of life too heavy? Then you must increase the burden of your life. 2, 176

That the world is not the abstract essence of an eternal reasonableness is sufficiently proved by the fact that that bit of the world which we know—I mean our human reason—is none too reasonable. And if this is not eternally and wholly wise and reasonable, the rest of the world will not be so either. 2, 184

There exists a simulated contempt for all things that mankind actually holds most important, for all everyday matters. For instance, we say "we only eat to live"—an abominable lie, like that which speaks of the procreation of children as the real purpose of all sexual pleasure. Conversely, the reverence for "the most important things" is hardly ever quite genuine. 2, 185

The doctrine of free will is an invention of the ruling classes. 2, 190

If a God created the world, he created man to be his ape, as a perpetual source of amusement in the midst of his rather tedious eternities. 2, 193

The robber and the man of power who promises to protect a community from robbers are perhaps at bottom beings of the same mould, save that the latter attains his ends by other means than the former—that is to say, through regular imposts paid to him by the community, and no longer through forced contributions. 2, 200

The sting of conscience, like the gnawing of a dog at a stone, is mere foolishness. 2, 217

Rights may be traced to traditions, traditions to momentary agreements. 2, 217

Morality is primarily a means of preserving the community and saving it from destruction. Next it is a means of maintaining the community on a certain plane and in a certain degree of benevolence. Its motives are fear and hope, and these in a more coarse, rough, and powerful form, the more the propensity towards the perverse, one-sided, and personal still persists. 2, 221

Moral prohibitions, like those of the Decalogue, are only suited to ages when reason lies vanquished. 2, 223

It is difficult to explain why pity is so highly prized, just as we need to explain why the unselfish man, who is originally despised or feared as being artful, is praised.

2. 224

The sum-total of our conscience is all that has regularly been demanded of us, without reason, in the days of our childhood, by people whom we respected or feared. 2, 224

Every word is a preconceived judgment. 2, 225

The fatalism of the Turk has this fundamental defect, that it contrasts man and fate as two distinct things. Man, says this doctrine, may struggle against fate and try to baffle it, but in the end fate will always gain the victory. Hence the most rational course is to resign oneself or to live as one pleases. As a matter of fact, every man is himself a piece of fate. When he thinks that he is struggling against fate in this way, fate is accomplishing its ends even in that struggle. The combat is a fantasy, but so is the resignation in fate—all these fantasies are included in fate.—The fear felt by most people of the doctrine that denies the freedom of the will is a fear of the fatalism of the Turk. They imagine that man will become weakly resigned and will stand before the future with folded hands, because he cannot alter anything of the future. Or that he will give a free rein to his caprices, because the predestined cannot be made worse by that course. The follies of men are as much a piece of fate as are his wise actions, and even that fear of belief in fate is a fatality. You yourself, you poor timid creature, are that indomitable Moira, which rules even the Gods; whatever may happen, you are a curse or a blessing, and in any case the fetters wherein the strongest lies bound: in you the whole future of the human world is predestined, and it is no use for you to be frightened of yourself. 2, 228-229

In the first era of the higher humanity courage is accounted the most noble virtue, in the next justice, in the third temperance, in the fourth wisdom. 2, 230

Superficial, inexact observation sees contrasts everywhere in nature (for instance, "hot and cold"), where there are no contrasts, only differences of degree. 2, 231

On two hypotheses alone is there any sense in prayer, that not quite extinct custom of olden times. It would have to be possible either to fix or alter the will of the godhead, and the devotee would have to know best himself what he needs and should really desire. Both hypotheses, axiomatic and traditional in all other religions, are denied by Christianity. 2, 235-233

Distrust is the touchstone for the gold of certainty. 2, 266

Wrath and punishment are our inheritance from the animals. Man does not become of age until he has restored to the animals this gift of the cradle.—Herein lies buried one of the mightiest ideas that men can have, the idea of a progress of all progresses.—Let us go forward together a few millenniums, my friends! There is still reserved for mankind a great deal of joy, the very scent of which has not yet been wafted to the men of our day! Indeed, we may promise ourselves this joy, nay summon and conjure it up as a necessary thing, so long as the development of human reason does not stand still. Some day we shall no longer be reconciled to the logical sin that lurks in all wrath and punishment, whether exercised by the individual or by society—some day, when head and heart have learnt to live as near together as they now are far apart. That they no longer stand so far apart as they did originally is fairly palpable from a glance at the whole course of humanity. The individual who can review a life of introspective work will become conscious of the rapprochement arrived at, with a proud delight at the distance he has bridged, in order that he may thereupon venture upon more ample hopes. 2, 284-285

Natural death is independent of all reason and is really an irrational death, in which the pitiable substance of the shell determines how long the kernel is to exist.... 2, 286

The more fully and thoroughly we live, the more ready we are to sacrifice life for a single pleasurable emotion. 2, 288

All intellectual movements whereby the great may hope to rob and the small to save, are sure to prosper.

2, 311-312

The desire for victory and pre-eminence is an ineradicable trait of human nature, older and more primitive than any respect of or joy in equality. 2, 312

If all alms were given only out of compassion, the whole tribe of beggars would long since have died of starvation.... The greatest of almsgivers is cowardice. 2, 317

The exertion of power is laborious and demands courage. That is why so many do not assert their most valid rights, because their rights are a kind of power, and they are too lazy or too cowardly to exercise them. Indulgence and patience are the names given to the virtues that cloak these faults. 2, 319-320

"Stupid as a man," say the women; "Cowardly as a woman," say the men. Stupidity in a woman is unfeminine. 2, 328

All political work, even with great statesmen, is an improvisation that trusts to luck. 2, 332

The so-called armed peace that prevails at present in all countries is a sign of a bellicose disposition, of a disposition that trusts neither itself nor its neighbour, and, partly from hate, partly from fear, refuses to lay down its weapons. Better to perish than to hate and fear, and twice as far better to perish than to make oneself hated and feared—this must some day become the supreme maxim of every political community!... 2, 236

In order that property may henceforth inspire more confidence and become more moral, we should keep open all the paths of work for small fortunes, but should prevent the effortless and sudden acquisition of wealth. Accordingly, we should take all the branches of transport and trade which favour the accumulation of large fortunes—especially, therefore, the money market—out of the hands of private persons or private companies, and look upon those who own too much, just as upon those who own nothing, as types fraught with danger to the community. 2, 340

If we try to determine the value of labour by the amount of time, industry, good or bad will, constraint, inventiveness or laziness, honesty or make-believe bestowed upon it, the valuation can never be a just one. For the whole personality would have to be thrown into the scale, and this is impossible. 2, 340

The exploitation of the worker was, as we now understand, a piece of folly, a robbery at the expense of the future, a jeopardisation of society. We almost have the war now, and in any case the expense of maintaining peace, of concluding treaties and winning confidence, will henceforth be very great, because the folly of the exploiters was very great and long-lasting. 2, 341

The masses are as far as possible removed from Socialism as a doctrine of altering the acquisition of property. If once they get the steering-wheel into their hands, through great majorities in their Parliaments, they will attack with progressive taxation the whole dominant system of capitalists, merchants, and financiers, and will in fact slowly create a middle class which may forget Socialism like a disease that has been overcome. 2, 343

The Two Principles of the New Life.—First Principle: to arrange one's life on the most secure and tangible basis, not as hitherto upon the most distant, undetermined, and cloudy foundation. Second Principle: to establish the rank of the nearest and nearer things, and of the more and less secure, before one arranges one's life and directs it to a final end. 2, 351

Through the certain prospect of death a precious, fragrant drop of frivolity might be mixed with every day life—and now, you singular druggist-souls, you have made of death a drop of poison, unpleasant to taste, which makes the whole of life hideous. 2, 355

We speak of Nature, and, in doing so, forget ourselves: we ourselves are Nature, quand même. 2, 356-357

We should not let ourselves be burnt for our opinions—we are not so certain of them as all that. But we might let ourselves be burnt for the right of possessing and changing our opinions. 2, 358

Man has been bound with many chains, in order that he may forget to comport himself like an animal. And indeed he has become more gentle, more intellectual, more joyous, more meditative than any animal. But now he still suffers from having carried his chains so long, from having been so long without pure air and free movement—these chains, however, are, as I repeat again and again, the ponderous and significant errors of moral, religious, and metaphysical ideas. Only when the disease of chains is overcome is the first great goal reached—the separation of man from the brute. 2,362-363

III

"The Dawn of Day"

The first work to follow the transitional and preparatory criticism and comment of "Human, All-Too-Human" was "The Dawn of Day" ("Morgen-röte"). Such a treatise dealing with Nietzsche's constructive and analytical thinking, was no doubt expected. No man could so effectively rattle the bones of the older gods, could so wantonly trample down the tenets strengthened by the teachings of centuries, could so ruthlessly annihilate the accepted ethical standards and religious formulæ, unless there existed back of his bludgeon a positivity of will which implied creation and construction. Nietzsche realised the significance of this new book, and at its completion, early in 1881, sent an urgent letter to his publisher requesting its immediate printing. The publisher, however, failing to attach any importance to the document, delayed its issuance until late in the summer, at which time its appearance caused no excitement and but little comment.

"The Dawn of Day" nevertheless ranks among Nietzsche's best works. Its title, frankly symbolic, reflects the nature of its contents. It was the beginning of Nietzsche's positive philosophy. In it he begins his actual work of reconstruction. Many of its passages form the foundation of those later books wherein he augmented and developed his theories. However, there is here no radical change in his thought. The passages are logical sequences to that simple nihilism of prevailing customs which occupied him in his former essays. In his earliest beginnings we can see evidences of the direction his teachings were to take. His books up to the last were mainly developments and elaborations of the thoughts which were in his mind from the first. Though often vaguely conceived and unco-ordinated, these thoughts were the undeniable property of his own thinking. Although there have been many attempts to trace eclectic influences to the men of his time, and especially to Schopenhauer, the results of such critical endeavours have been easily controverted by the plainest of internal evidence. The philosophical Nietzsche has his roots firmly implanted in the scholastic Nietzsche; and though in superficial and non-important phases of his thought he changed from time to time, the most diligent research fails to reveal direct contradictions in any of his fundamental doctrines.

In "The Dawn of Day" Nietzsche goes again into the origin of morality. He carries his analyses further and supports them by additional enquiries and by more complicated processes of reasoning. Having ascertained the place which morals assume in the human scale and determined their relation to racial necessities, he points out that their application as permanent and unalterable mandates works havoc in any environment save that in which they were conceived. Inasmuch as all morality is at bottom but an expression of expediency, it follows that, since the means of expediency change under varying conditions, morality must change to meet the constantly metamorphosing conditions of society. And since the conditions of life are never the same in all nations, moral codes must likewise adapt themselves to geography in order to fulfil their function. The existing code of morals, namely: the Christian doctrine, grew out of conditions which were not only different from those in which we live to-day, but in many instances diametrically opposed to them. Nietzsche saw a grave danger in adhering to an ethical system which was not relative to the modern man, and argues that the result of such a morality would produce effects which would have no intelligent bearing on the racial problems of the present day. Knowing the deep-rooted superstition in man regarding the "divine" origin of moral laws, he undertakes the task of relating all ancient codes to the racial conditions existent at their inception, thus constructing a human origin for them.

Christianity, being the greatest moral force of the day, attracted Nietzsche's attention the most, and in "The Dawn of Day" much space is devoted to a consideration of it. While in tone these paragraphs are milder than those which followed in "The Antichrist," they nevertheless are among the profoundest criticisms which Nietzsche made of Nazarene morality. Though only a portion of the aphorisms contained in this work are devoted to an evaluation of theological modes of conduct, stumbling blocks are thrown in the path of an acceptance of Jewish ethics which the most sapient of modern ecclesiastics have been unable to remove. Out of certain aphorisms found here grew "The Antichrist" which is the most terrible and effective excoriation that Christianity has ever called forth. Beginning on page 66 of "The Dawn of Day" there appears one of Nietzsche's most fundamental passages dealing with Christianity. It is called "The First Christian," and is an analysis of the Apostle Paul. No theological dialectician has been able to answer it. Here is an aphorism so illuminating, so profound, yet so brief, as to dazzle completely the lay mind.

However, Christianity is but one of the subjects dealt with in "The Dawn of Day." The book covers the whole field of modern morality. Says Nietzsche in his introduction; "In this book we find a 'subterrestrial' at work, digging, mining, undermining.... I went down into the deepest depths; I tunnelled to the very bottom; I started to investigate and unearth an old faith which for thousands of years we philosophers used to build on as the safest of all foundations.... I began to undermine our faith in morals." It is true that from the beginning of history there has existed a ruling scale of values determining the acts of humanity. Morality implies the domination of certain classes which, in order to inspire reverence in arbitrary dictates, have invested their codes with an authority other than a human one. Thus has criticism been stifled. Morality has had the means of intimidation on its side, and has discouraged investigation by exercising severe penalties. Consequently morality has accumulated and grown, gathered power and swept on without its thinkers, its philosophers or its analysts. Of all the sciences, the science of conduct has been the last to attract investigators.

The vogue of that style of philosophy which was founded on the tradition of speculation and honeycombed with presuppositions, did not pass out until the advent of Darwin's evolutionism. But even the inauguration of biology and sociology did not entirely eliminate the metaphysical assumption from constructive thinking. The scientists themselves, not excluding Darwin, hesitated to acknowledge the laws of natural selection and of the survival of the fit. Neo-Lamarckism was but one of the reactions against this tough and unpleasant theory. Alfred Russel Wallace and, to take an even more significant figure, Herbert Spencer, endeavoured to refute the possibility of a biological basis in thought and thus to avoid an acquiescence to the Darwinian research. John Fiske, an avowed evolutionist, indirectly repudiated the scientific origin of philosophy; and likewise most of the lesser thinkers, following the exposition of Darwin's theories, refused to apply to man the biological laws governing the animal kingdom. Balfour and Huxley sensed the incongruities and variances in this new mode of thinking, and strove to bridge the chasm between natural science and human conduct, and to construct a system of ethics which would possess a logical and naturalistic foundation. But in both cases the question was begged. We find Balfour building up a moral system which, while it did not deny Darwinism, had for its end the destruction, or at least the alteration, of natural laws. And Huxley defines human progress as an overcoming of biological principles. Thus, even in the most materialistic of physio-psychologists, the subjugation of natural laws was the primary thesis. Biology, therefore, instead of being used as a basis to further philosophy, was considered an obstacle which philosophy had to overcome.

Nietzsche saw that a science of conduct based on natural and physiological laws was a possible and logical thing. And in him, for the first time in the history of philosophical thought, do we find a scholarly and at the same time an intellectual critic of authorised standards. The biological point of view was never lost sight of by him. If at times he seemed to abandon it, it was but for a brief period; he ever came back to it. Even his most abstract passages have their feet implanted in the fact that all phenomena are answerable to the law of vital fitness. Before the tribunal of biology Nietzsche arraigns and tries every phase of his thought, whether it deals with physical phenomena, ethical conduct or with abstract reasoning. Philosophy, for centuries divorced from science, is here clothed in the garments of scientific experimentation; a relationship is established between these two planes of rationalism and empiricism which have always been considered by other thinkers as detached and unrelated. Nor does Nietzsche ally himself, either consciously or unconsciously, with such philosophers as Bruno and Plato (who stood between the scientific thinkers on the one hand and the abstract dialecticians on the other), and attempt a formulation of a system of thought founded on intuitive processes. Such poetic conceptions had no fascination for him except as they were directly applicable to the problem of the universe. Those men who busied themselves with the mere theory of knowledge he held as supererogatory cobweb-spinners; and even in the realm of metaphysicians such as Descartes, Spinoza and Leibniz, he dallied but casually. His aim was to relate all thought to determinable values of life.

In his introduction Nietzsche calls morality the Circe of philosophies, and adds: "For, to what is it due that, from Plato onwards, all the philosophic architects in Europe have built in vain?" Later beneath his analysis—which never assumes the negative qualities of the metaphysical—the moral phenomenon goes to pieces, not by a few simple strokes, nor yet by the effrontery of cynicism or pessimism, but by the most careful and intricate surgery. He points out the great heretics of history as examples of the men who, looked at through the eyes of contemporaries, were "wicked" men, but who, under different environmental circumstances, were considered "good." He denies the static hypothesis on which morality is built, and postulates the theory that immorality is not without its place in the development of the reason. He is constantly attempting to translate the existing moral values into terms of their true nature, not necessarily into immoralities, but into natural unmoralities. The accepted virtues, such as pity, honesty, faith, obedience, service, loyalty and self-sacrifice, are questioned in their relation to racial needs; and modern attitudes toward all human activities are traced to their causes and judged as to their influence.

The research work in the present book differs from that contained in previous volumes. Heretofore Nietzsche indulged in inquiry without speculation; he dealt mainly with generalities. His analyses were along broad lines of human conduct. He confined himself for the most part to principles. But in "The Dawn of Day" these principles are balanced with existent morality. Specific modes of moral and ethical endeavour are weighed against expediency. Nietzsche presents a diagnosis of the fundamental nature of society to-day, and discovers many contradictions and inconsistencies between modern social needs and those virtues held in the highest reverence. He finds that deportmental means made use of by weak and subjugated peoples of ancient times to protect themselves against hostile invaders, are retained and practised to-day by nations whose position has been reversed to one of domination. In short, he points out that certain moralities have, by the alteration of national and racial conditions, become irrelevancies. Consequently there is often a compromise between ethical beliefs and ethical practices—a compromise made necessary by the demands of social intercourse. Even when the practice of these ancient moralities is conscientiously indulged in, Nietzsche denies their adequacy in coping with modern conditions, pointing out specific instances in which necessity and habit are constantly impinging. For instance, the softer virtues of a democratic and socialistic morality are shown to be desirable only in weakened nations where the hardier virtues of egotism, cruelty, efficiency, hard-mindedness, selfishness and retaliation would work directly against preservation.

Out of these conclusions grows a plea for individualism, and out of this individualism the superman can be seen rearing his head above the horizon of present-day humanity. The qualities of this man of the future are defined, and a finger is pointed along the necessary lines of racial culture. Nietzsche's first definite voicing of marriage ideals follows in the train of the superman's appearance, and the first comments of this philosopher in his criticism of woman are set down. In this latter regard Nietzsche has been unfairly interpreted by those who have considered his attitude toward woman superficially or without relating it to his general theories. It would be well therefore for the student to withhold judgment in this particular until the various elements of Nietzsche's philosophical system have been co-ordinated and understood. Woman plays an important, if small, part in his writings, and his passages dealing with women should be carefully weighed in conjunction with his theory of the superman.

In "The Dawn of Day" Nietzsche's conception of class distinction is defined and related to his later teachings. Throughout his analyses runs a subtle undercurrent of his doctrine, of social segregation which finds definite expression toward the end of the volume where modern socialism, with its altruism and philanthropy, is traced to its birth in Nazarene morality. In place of this present popular form of ethics Nietzsche proposes a social régime in which aristocratic culture will be set apart from mere utilitarian culture by very definite boundaries. He argues that not only is this disassociation in accord with the instincts of mankind, but that, as a workable theorem, it adequately answers the needs of present conditions. The slave-morality and the master-morality which he develops in his later works are defined tentatively and suggested by inference in many of the aphorisms. Out of this conception grew his dominant principle of the "will to power," and in "The Dawn of Day" we find this principle set forth in adequate definition for the first time, although the development of the idea is left till later. However, Nietzsche makes clear its point of divergence from the Schopenhauerian theory of the "will to live" as well as from the Darwinian theory of the survival of the fittest.

But it is not alone abstract theory that occupies the pages of this book. Nietzsche is never the mere metaphysician battling in an unreal world. There are few dark closets and secret passageways in his thought. Beyond a metaphysical hypothesis he does not go. He adheres to demonstrable formulas, and reasons along lines of strictest reality. The practical man he holds in high esteem, and constantly praises the advance of science. He devotes pages to the blowing to pieces of metaphysical air-castles. But, as I have previously pointed out, he is in no sense of the word a materialist; nor is his assumption of the world that of the realists. Life to Nietzsche is an eternal struggle toward—no goal. The lessons the world has to teach are as so much false doctrine. The meaning of life—the so-called absolute truth—is but a chimera. Intelligence is a process, not an ultimatum. The truth is mobile and dual, dependent on varying causes. In accepting the material world, Nietzsche does not grant it. In assuming natural laws, he denies them. In his adherence to logic and to the processes of cause and effect, he is accepting phantoms and inconsistencies, and yet it is along these lines that the race progresses.

In "The Dawn of Day" Nietzsche makes use of the same aphoristic style as that employed in "Human, All-Too-Human." (This broken, staccato form he uses throughout the remainder of his works, except in certain parts of "Thus Spake Zarathustra.") Each paragraph is captioned and deals with a specific phase of morality or with a definite critical attitude toward human conduct. Some of these paragraphs are scarcely a line in length—mere definitions or similes. Others extend over several pages. But they always pertain to a single idea. Occasionally they are in the form of a brief conversation; at other times they are short queries. One of these aphorisms is entitled "The Battle Dispensary of the Soul," and this is what follows: "What is the most efficacious remedy? Victory." That is all—brief, and perhaps, on first reading, inconsequent. But study it a moment, and you will find in it the nucleus of a great revolutionary doctrine. On the other hand, turn to aphorism 142, called "Sympathy," and you will discover several pages of flashing commentary. Out of the chaos of his style springs a feeling of plastic form. These brief paragraphs are not detached and desultory. They are pyramided on one another, and beneath them runs an undercurrent of unified thinking. When the end of the book is reached we have a carefully fabricated edifice, and we realise that each paragraph has been some necessary beam or decoration in its construction.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE DAWN OF DAY"

Morality is nothing else (and, above all, nothing more) than obedience to customs, of whatsoever nature they may be. But customs are simply the traditional way of acting and valuing. Where there is no tradition there is no morality; and the less life is governed by tradition, the narrower the circle of morality. The free man is immoral, because it is his will to depend upon himself and not upon tradition: in all the primitive states of humanity "evil" is equivalent to "individual," "free," "arbitrary," "unaccustomed," "unforeseen," "incalculable." In such primitive conditions, always measured by this standard, any action performed—not because tradition commands it, but for other reasons (e.g., on account of its individual utility), even for the same reasons as had been formerly established by custom—is termed immoral, and is felt to be so even by the very man who performs it, for it has not been done out of obedience to tradition. 14-15

Popular medicines and popular morals are closely related, and should not be considered and valued, as is still customary, in so different a way: both are most dangerous and make-believe sciences. 19

All those superior men, who felt themselves irresistibly urged on to throw off the yoke of some morality or other, had no other resource—if they were not really mad—than to feign madness, or actually to become insane. And this holds good for innovators in every department of life, and not only in religion and politics. 21

Every one who has hitherto overthrown a law of established morality has always at first been considered as a wicked man: but when it was afterwards found impossible to re-establish the law, and people gradually became accustomed to the change, the epithet was changed by slow degrees. History deals almost exclusively with these wicked men, who later on came to be recognised as good men. 28

A man who is under the influence of the morality of custom comes to despise causes first of all, secondly consequences, and thirdly reality, and weaves all his higher feelings (reverence, sublimity, pride, gratitude, love) into an imaginary world: the so-called higher world. And even to-day we can see the consequences of this: wherever, and in whatever fashion, man's feelings are raised, that imaginary world is in evidence. 40

The history of the moral feelings is entirely different from the history of moral conceptions. The first-mentioned are powerful before the action, and the latter especially after it, in view of the necessity for making one's self clear in regard to them. 41

Trusting in our feelings simply means obeying our grandfather and grandmother more than the gods within ourselves: our reason and experience. 41

The same impulse, under the impression of the blame cast upon it by custom, develops into the painful feeling of cowardice, or else the pleasurable feeling of humility, in case a morality, like that of Christianity, has taken it to its heart and called it good. 43

The origin becomes of less significance in proportion as we acquire insight into it; whilst things nearest to ourselves, around and within us, gradually begin to manifest their wealth of colours, beauties, enigmas, and diversity of meaning, of which earlier humanity never dreamed. 52

Only when man shall have acquired a knowledge of all things will he be able to know himself. For things are but the boundaries of man. 53

To whatever height mankind may have developed—and perhaps in the end it will not be so high as when they began!—there is as little prospect of their attaining to a higher order as there is for the ant and the earwig to enter into kinship with God and eternity at the end of their career on earth. What is to come will drag behind it that which has passed: why should any little star, or even any little species on that star, form an exception to that eternal drama? Away with such sentimentalities! 54

Those earnest, able, and just men of profound feelings, who are still Christians at heart, owe it to themselves to make one attempt to live for a certain space of time without Christianity! They owe it to their faith that they should thus for once take up their abode "in the wilderness"—if for no other reason than that of being able to pronounce on the question as to whether Christianity is needful. 63

Christianity has the instinct of a hunter for finding out all those who may by hook or by crook be driven to despair—only a very small number of men can be brought to this despair. Christianity lies in wait for such as those, and pursues them. 65

The "demon" Eros becomes an object of greater interest to mankind than all the angels and saints put together, thanks to the mysterious Mumbo-Jumboism of the Church in all things erotic: it is due to the Church that love stories, even in our own time, have become the one common interest which appeals to all classes of people—with an exaggeration which would be incomprehensible to antiquity, and which will not fail to provoke roars of laughter in coming generations. 78

It is only those who never—or always—attend church that underestimate the dishonesty with which this subject is still dealt in Protestant pulpits; in what a clumsy fashion the preacher takes advantage of his security from interruption; how the Bible is pinched and squeezed; and how the people are made acquainted with every form of the art of false reading.85

Christianity wants blindness and frenzy and an eternal swan-song above the waves under which reason has been drowned!... 90

What if God were not exactly truth, and if this were proved? And if he were instead of vanity, the desire for power, the ambitious, the fear, and the enraptured and terrified folly of mankind?... 93

One Becomes Moral—but not because one is moral! Submission to morals may be due to slavishness or vanity, egoism or resignation, dismal fanaticism or thoughtlessness. It may, again, be an act of despair, such as submission to the authority of a ruler; but there is nothing moral about it per se. 97

Morals are constantly undergoing changes and transformations, occasioned by successful crimes. 97

I deny morality in the same way as I deny alchemy, i.e., I deny its hypotheses; but I do not deny that there have been alchemists who believed in these hypotheses and based their actions upon them. I also deny immorality—not that innumerable people feel immoral, but that there is any true reason why they should feel so, should not, of course, deny—unless I were a fool—that many actions which are called immoral should be avoided and resisted; and in the same way that many which are called moral should be performed and encouraged; but I hold that in both cases these actions should be performed from motives other than those which have prevailed up to the present time. We must learn anew in order that at last, perhaps very late in the day, we may be able to do something more: feel anew. 100

It is a prejudice to think that morality is more favourable to the development of the reason than immorality. It is erroneous to suppose that the unconscious aim in the development of every conscious being (namely, animal, man, humanity, etc.) is its "great happiness"; on the contrary, there is a particular and incomparable happiness to be attained at every stage of our development, one that is neither high nor low, but quite an individual happiness. Evolution does not make happiness its goal; it aims merely at evolution, and nothing else. It is only if humanity had a universally recognised goal that we could propose to do this or that: for the time being there is no such goal. It follows that the pretensions of morality should not be brought into any relationship with mankind: this would be merely childish and irrational. It is quite another thing to recommend a goal to mankind: this goal would then be something that would depend upon our own will and pleasure. Provided that mankind in general agreed to adopt such a goal, it could then impose a moral law upon itself, a law which would, at all events, be imposed by their own free will. 105

Our duties are the claims which others have upon us. How did they acquire these claims? By the fact that they considered us as capable of making and holding agreements and contracts, by assuming that we were their like and equals, and by consequently entrusting something to us, bringing us up, educating us, and supporting us. 110

My rights consist of that part of my power which others have not only conceded to me, but which they wish to maintain for me. 111

The desire for distinction is the desire to subject one's neighbor.... 113

On this mirror—and our intellect is a mirror—something is going on that indicates regularity: a certain thing is each time followed by another certain thing. When we perceive this and wish to give it a name, we call it cause and effect,—fools that we are! as if in this we had understood or could understand anything! For, of course, we have seen nothing but the images of causes and effects, and it is just this figurativeness which renders it impossible for us to see a more substantial relation than that of sequence!... 129

Pity, in so far as it actually gives rise to suffering—and this must be our only point of view here—is a weakness, like every other indulgence in an injurious emotion. It increases suffering throughout the world, and although here and there a certain amount of suffering may be indirectly diminished or removed altogether as a consequence of pity, we must not bring forward these occasional consequences, which are on the whole insignificant, to justify the nature of pity which, as has already been stated, is prejudicial. Supposing that it prevailed, even if only for one day, it would bring humanity to utter ruin. In itself the nature of pity is no better than that of any other craving; it is only where it is called for and praised—and this happens when people do not understand what is injurious in it, but find in it a sort of joy—that a good conscience becomes attached to it; it is only then that we willingly yield to it, and do not shrink from acknowledging it. In other circumstances where it is understood to be dangerous, it is looked upon as a weakness; or, as in the case of the Greeks, as an unhealthy periodical emotion the danger of which might be removed by temporary and voluntary discharges. 144-145

You say that the morality of pity is a higher morality than that of stoicism? Prove it! But take care not to measure the "higher" and "lower" degrees of morality once more by moral yardsticks; for there are no absolute morals. So take your yardstick from somewhere else, and be on your guard!... 149

If, in accordance with the present definition, only those actions are moral which are done for the sake of others, and for their sake only, then there are no moral actions at all! If, in accordance with another definition, only those actions are moral which spring from our own free will, then there are no moral actions in this case either! What is it, then, that we designate thus, which certainly exists and wishes as a consequence to be explained? It is the result of a few intellectual blunders; and supposing that we were able to free ourselves from these errors, what would then become of "moral actions"? It is due to these errors that we have up to the present attributed to certain actions a value superior to what was theirs in reality: we separated them from "egoistic" and "non-free" actions. When we now set them once more in the latter categories, as we must do, we certainly reduce their value (their own estimate of value) even below its reasonable level, because "egoistic" and "non-free" actions have up to the present been undervalued owing to that alleged profound and essential difference. 158-159

If I were a god, and a benevolent god, the marriages of men would cause me more displeasure than anything else. 162

We ought publicly to declare invalid the vows of lovers, and to refuse them permission to marry: and this because we should treat marriage itself much more seriously, so that in cases where it is now contracted it would not usually be allowed in future! Are not the majority of marriages such that we should not care to have them witnessed by a third party? And yet this third party is scarcely ever lacking—the child—and he is more than the witness; he is the whipping-boy and scapegoat. 163

Shame! You wish to form part of a system in which you must be a wheel, fully and completely, or risk being crushed by wheels! where it is understood that each one will be that which his superiors make of him! where the seeking for "connections" will form a part of one's natural duties! where no one feels himself offended when he has his attention drawn to some one with the remark, "He may be useful to you some time"; where people do not feel ashamed of paying a visit to ask for somebody's intercession, and where they do not even suspect that by such a voluntary submission to these morals, they are once and for all stamped as the common pottery of nature, which others can employ or break up of their free will without feeling in any way responsible for doing so,—just as if one were to say, "People of my type will never be lacking, therefore, do what you will with me! Do not stand on ceremony!" 169

In the glorification of "work" and the never-ceasing talk about the "blessing of labour," I see the same secret arrière-pensée as I do in the praise bestowed on impersonal acts of a general interest, viz., a fear of everything individual. 176

Behind the principle of the present moral fashion: "Moral actions are actions performed out of sympathy for others," I see the social instinct of fear, which thus assumes an intellectual disguise.... 177

Whatever may be the influence in high politics of utilitarianism and the vanity of individuals and nations, the sharpest spur which urges them onwards is their need for the feeling of power—a need which rises not only in the souls of princes and rulers, but also gushes forth from time to time from inexhaustible sources in the people. 186

As the aristocrat is able to preserve the appearance of being possessed of a superior physical force which never leaves him, he likewise wishes by his aspect of constant serenity and civility of disposition, even in the most trying circumstances, to convey the impression that his mind and soul are equal to all dangers and surprises....

This indisputable happiness of aristocratic culture, based as it is on the feeling of superiority, is now beginning to rise to ever higher levels; for now, thanks to the free spirits, it is henceforth permissible and not dishonourable for people who have been born and reared in aristocratic circles to enter the domain of knowledge, where they may secure more intellectual consecrations and learn chivalric services even higher than those of former times, and where they may look up to that ideal of victorious wisdom which as yet no age has been able to set before itself with so good a conscience as the period which is about to dawn. 203-205

What induces one man to use false weights, another to set his house on fire after having insured it for more than its value, a third to take part in counterfeiting, while three-fourths of our upper classes indulge in legalised fraud, and suffer from the pangs of conscience that follow speculation and dealings on the Stock Exchange: what gives rise to all this? It is not real want,—for their existence is by no means precarious; perhaps they have even enough to eat and drink without worrying—but they are urged on day and night by a terrible impatience at seeing their wealth pile up so slowly, and by an equally terrible longing and love for these heaps of gold. In this impatience and love, however, we see re-appear once more that fanaticism of the desire for power which was stimulated in former times by the belief that we were in the possession of truth, a fanaticism which bore such beautiful names that we could dare to be inhuman with a good conscience (burning Jews, heretics, and good books, and exterminating entire cultures superior to ours, such as those of Peru and Mexico). The means of this desire for power are changed in our day, but the same volcano is still smouldering, impatience and intemperate love call for their victims, and what was once done "for the love of God" is now done for the love of money, i.e., for the love of that which at present affords us the highest feeling of power and a good conscience. 209-210

"Enthusiastic sacrifice," "self-immolation"—these are the catch-words of your morality.... In reality ... you only appear to sacrifice yourselves; for your imagination turns you into gods and you enjoy yourselves as such. 226-227

Ceremonies, official robes and court dresses, grave countenances, solemn aspects, the slow pace, involved speech—everything, in short, known as dignity—are all pretences adopted by those who are timid at heart: they wish to make themselves feared (themselves or the things they represent). The fearless (i.e., originally those who naturally inspire others with awe) have no need of dignity and ceremonies.... 230

A strange thing, this punishment of ours! It does not purify the criminal; it is not a form of expiation; but, on the contrary, it is even more defiling than the crime itself. 235

When a vigorous nature has not an inclination towards cruelty, and is not always preoccupied with itself, it involuntarily strives after gentleness—this is its distinctive characteristic. Weak natures, on the other hand, have a tendency towards harsh judgments.... 236

Kindness has been best developed by the long dissimulation which endeavoured to appear as kindness: wherever great power existed the necessity for dissimulation of this nature was recognised—it inspires security and confidence, and multiplies the actual sum of our physical power. Falsehood, if not actually the mother, is at all events the nurse of kindness. In the same way, honesty has been brought to maturity by the need for a semblance of honesty and integrity: in hereditary aristocracies. The persistent exercise of such a dissimulation ends by bringing about the actual nature of the thing itself: the dissimulation in the long run suppresses itself, and organs and instincts are the unexpected fruits in this garden of hypocrisy. 242

Neither necessity nor desire, but the love of power, is the demon of mankind. You may give men everything possible—health, food, shelter, enjoyment—but they are and remain unhappy and capricious, for the demon waits and waits; and must be satisfied. 243

It is probable that there are no pure races, but only races which have become purified, and even these are extremely rare. 253

How many married men have some morning awakened to the fact that their young wife is dull, although she thinks quite the contrary! not to speak of those wives whose flesh is willing but whose intellect is weak! 255

Could there be anything more repugnant than the sentimentality which is shown to plants and animals—and this on the part of a creature who from the very beginning has made such ravages among them as their most ferocious enemy—and who ends by even claiming affectionate feelings from his weakened and mutilated victims! Before this kind of "nature" man must above all be serious, if he is any sort of a thinking being. 258

Among cowards it is thought bad form to say anything against bravery, for any expression of this kind would give rise to some contempt; and unfeeling people are irritated when anything is said against pity. 259

It is the most sensual men who find it necessary to avoid women and to torture their bodies. 261

A young man can be most surely corrupted when he is taught to value the like-minded more highly than the differently minded. 262

The general knowledge of mankind has been furthered to a greater extent by fear than by love. 267

The sum-total of those internal movements which come naturally to men, and which they can consequently set in motion readily and gracefully, is called the soul—men are looked upon as void of soul when they let it be seen that their inward emotions are difficult and painful to them. 268

All rules have this effect: they distract our attention from the fundamental aim of the rule, and make us more thoughtless. 273

We are most certain to find idealistic theories among unscrupulously practical men; for such men stand in need of the lustre of these theories for the sake of their reputation. They adopt them instinctively without by any means feeling hypocritical in doing so—no more hypocritical than Englishmen with their Christianity and their Sabbath-keeping. 277

It is not sufficient to prove a case, we must also tempt or raise men to it. 278

Asceticism is the proper mode of thinking for those who must extirpate their carnal instincts, because these are ferocious beasts,—but only for such people! 278

You refuse to be dissatisfied with yourselves or to suffer from yourselves, and this you call your moral tendency! Very well; another may perhaps call it your cowardice! One thing, however, is certain, and that is, that you will never take a trip round the world (and you yourselves are this world), and you will always remain in yourselves an accident and a clod on the face of the earth! 282

The first effect of happiness is the feeling of power, and this feeling longs to manifest itself, whether towards ourselves or other men, or towards ideas and imaginary beings. Its most common modes of manifestation are making presents, derision, and destruction—all three being due to a common fundamental instinct. 286

We approve of marriage in the first place because we are not yet acquainted with it, in the second place because we have accustomed ourselves to it, and in the third place because we have contracted it—that is to say, in most cases. And yet nothing has been proved thereby in favour of the value of marriage in general. 287

The criminal who has been found out does not suffer because of the crime he has committed, but because of the shame and annoyance caused him either by some blunder which he has made or by being deprived of his habitual element. 289

Where our deficiencies are, there also is our enthusiasm. The enthusiastic principle "love your enemies" had to be invented by the Jews, the best haters that ever existed; and the finest glorifications of chastity have been written by those who in their youth led dissolute and licentious lives. 293

Women turn pale at the thought that their lover may not be worthy of them; Men turn pale at the thought that they may not be worthy of the women they love. I speak of perfect women, perfect men. 300-301

You wish to bid farewell to your passion? Very well, but do so without hatred against it! Otherwise you have a second passion.—The soul of the Christian who has freed himself from sin is generally ruined afterwards by the hatred for sin. Just look at the faces of the great Christians! they are the faces of great haters. 302

Men have become suffering creatures in consequence of their morals, and the sum-total of what they have obtained by those morals is simply the feeling that they are far too good and great for this world, and that they are enjoying merely a transitory existence on it. As yet the "proud sufferer" is the highest type of mankind. 309-310

Rights can only be conferred by one who is in full possession of power. 317

"The rule always appears to me to be more interesting than the exception"—whoever thinks thus has made considerable progress in knowledge, and is one of the initiated. 319

Through our love we have become dire offenders against truth, and even habitual dissimulators and thieves, who give out more things as true than seem to us to be true. 337-333

All the great excellencies of ancient humanity owed their stability to the fact that man was standing side by side with man, and that no woman was allowed to put forward the claim of being the nearest and highest, nay even sole object of his love, as the feeling of passion would teach. 351

Even if we were mad enough to consider all our opinions as truth, we should nevertheless not wish them alone to exist. I cannot see why we should ask for an autocracy and omnipotence of truth: it is sufficient for me to know that it is a great power. Truth, however, must meet with opposition and be able to fight, and we must be able to rest from it at times in falsehood—otherwise truth will grow tiresome, powerless, and insipid, and will render us equally so. 352-353.

To hear every day what is said about us, or even to endeavour to discover what people think about us, will in the end kill even the strongest man. Our neighbours permit us to live only that they may exercise a daily claim upon us! They certainly would not tolerate us if we wished to claim rights over them, and still less if we wished to be right! In short, let us offer up a sacrifice to the general peace, let us not listen when they speak of us, when they praise us, blame us, wish for us, or hope for us—nay, let us not even think of it. 357

How many really individual actions are left undone merely because before performing them we perceive or suspect that they will be misunderstood!—those actions, for example, which have some intrinsic value, both in good and evil. The more highly an age or a nation values its individuals, therefore, and the more right and ascendency we accord them, the more will actions of this kind venture to make themselves known, 359-360.

Love wishes to spare the other to whom it devotes itself any feeling of strangeness: as a consequence it is permeated with disguise and simulation; it keeps on deceiving continuously, and feigns an equality which in reality does not exist. And all this is done so instinctively that women who love deny this simulation and constant tender trickery, and have even the audacity to assert that love equalises (in other words that it performs a miracle)! 361

Truth in itself is no power at all.... Truth must either attract power to its side, or else side with power, for otherwise it will perish again and again. 363

We should ... take the greatest precautions in regard to everything connected with old age and its judgment upon life.... The reverence which we feel for an old man, especially if he is an old thinker and sage, easily blinds us to the deterioration of his intellect. 368

We must not make passion an argument for truth. 372

Have you experienced history within yourselves, commotions, earthquakes, long and profound sadness, and sudden flashes of happiness? Have you acted foolishly with great and little fools? Have you really undergone the delusions and woe of the good people? and also the woe and the peculiar happiness of the most evil? Then you may speak to me of morality, but not otherwise! 876

"What do I matter?" is written over the door of the thinker of the future. 379

The great man ever remains invisible in the greatest thing that claims worship, like some distant star: his victory over power remains without witnesses, and hence also without songs and singers. The hierarchy of the great men in all the past history of the human race has not yet been determined. 380

Whether what we are looking forward to is a thought or a deed, our relationship to every essential achievement is none other than that of pregnancy, and all our vainglorious boasting about "willing" and "creating" should be cast to the winds! True and ideal selfishness consists in always watching over and restraining the soul, so that our productiveness may come to a beautiful termination.... Still, these pregnant ones are funny people! Let us therefore dare to be funny also, and not reproach others if they must be the same. 384-385

Honest towards ourselves, and to all and everything friendly to us; brave in the face of our enemy; generous towards the vanquished; polite at all times: such do the four cardinal virtues wish us to be. 387

There is no "eternal justice" which requires that every fault shall be atoned and paid for,—the belief that such a justice existed was a terrible delusion, and useful only to a limited extent; just as it is also a delusion that everything is guilt which is felt as such. It is not the things themselves, but the opinions about things that do not exist, which have been such a source of trouble to mankind. 391

What is the most efficacious remedy?—Victory. 393

The snake that cannot cast its skin perishes. So too with those minds which are prevented from changing their views: they cease to be minds. 394

IV

"The Joyful Wisdom"

In 1882 Nietzsche wrote and published "The Joyful Wisdom" ("La Gay a Scienza"). Although originally intended as a supplement to "The Dawn of Day," under which title it was to have been issued in a later edition of this earlier work, it differs greatly, not only from "The Dawn of Day," but from everything else Nietzsche ever wrote. The destructive spirit of "Human, All-Too-Human" is nowhere to be found in it. The revolutionary doctrines of "The Dawn of Day" are but vaguely echoed. It is a book which shows Nietzsche in a unique and isolated mood—a mood which, throughout his whole life did not return to him. Temperamentally "The Joyful Wisdom" comes nearer being a parallel to "Thus Spake Zarathustra" than to any of his other writings. But even this comparison goes to pieces when pushed beyond the most superficial aspects of the two books. Nietzsche was at Naumburg at the time of writing this work. A long-standing stomach malady had suddenly shown signs of leaving him, and the period during which he wrote "The Joyful Wisdom" was one of the happiest of his life. Heretofore a sombre seriousness had marked both his thoughts and the expression of them. In the two volumes of "Human, All-Too-Human" he had attempted a complete devastation of all codes and ideals. In "The Dawn of Day" he waged a bitter and serious warfare on modern moral standards and made attempts at supplanting them with new dogma. In "The Joyful Wisdom" he revealed an entirely new phase of his character—a lenient, jovial, almost buoyant attitude toward the world.

Although "The Joyful Wisdom" may be considered in the light of an interpolation into Nietzsche's philosophical works, the book is nevertheless among the most interesting of his output—not so much because it gives us any additions to the sum of his thinking, but because it throws a light on the philosopher himself. It may be lifted bodily out of his works without leaving a gap in the development of his doctrines, but it cannot be set aside without closing up a very important and significant facet in the man's nature. Unfortunately Nietzsche is looked upon as a man who was entirely consumed with rancour and hatred—a man unconscious of the comic side of existence—a thinker with whom pessimism was chronic. But this is only a half truth, a conclusion founded on partial evidence. Nietzsche's very earnestness at times defeated his own ends. "The Joyful Wisdom" is one of the most fundamentally hilarious books ever written. It deals with life as a supreme bit of humour. Yet there is little in it to provoke laughter. Nietzsche's humour is deeper than the externals. One finds no superficial jesting here, no smartness, no transient buffoonery. The book is a glorification of that subtle joy which accompanies the experiencing of knowledge. In order to catch its spirit it is necessary that one be familiar with the serious and formulating Nietzsche, for on his most serious doctrines is founded that attitude which makes "The Joyful Wisdom" hilarious. Once familiar with Nietzsche's earlier writings one may read the present book with a feeling of exhilaration unlike that produced by his more manifestly solemn writings.

However, despite the buoyancy of this document, it is, beneath the surface, as serious as anything Nietzsche has ever written. His conception of the world and his assumption of the underlying aspects of existence are founded on deeply conceived formulas. It must be borne in mind that Nietzsche's thought is in a large measure personal, that the development of his doctrines is due to very definite biographical causes and to the flux and reflux of his own emotions. His system is not a spontaneous and complete conception, the sudden fruit of his entire research given to the world in a unified body. To the contrary, it is an amassing of data, a constant building up of ideas. No one book contains his entire teachings, logically thought out and carefully organised. Rather is his philosophy an intricate structure which begins with his earliest essays and does not reach completion until the end of "The Will to Power." Each book has some specific place in his thought: each book assumes a position relative to all the rest. Thus in "The Joyful Wisdom" we have the turning point between the denying and destructive Nietzsche and the asserting and fashioning Nietzsche. Says he in the fourth and most important section called "Sanctus Januarius": "Amor fati:[1] let that henceforth be my love! I do not want to wage war with the ugly. I do not want to accuse, I do not want even to accuse the accusers. Looking aside, let that be my sole negation! And all in all, to sum up: I wish to be at any time hereafter only a yea-sayer!"

In "The Joyful Wisdom" begins Nietzsche's almost fanatical joy in life. Here, too, we encounter for the first time the symbol of the dance. Nietzsche constantly makes use of this figure in his later writings. Especially in "Thus Spake Zarathustra" does he exhort his readers to indulge themselves in dancing. The blasphemies and hatreds characteristic of the philosopher in his more solemn moods are nowhere discernible in this new book. It is therefore of considerable importance to the student in forming a just estimate of Nietzsche. Here the hater has departed; the idol-smasher has laid down his weapons; the analyst has become the satyr; the logician has turned poet; the blasphemer has become the child. Only occasionally does the pendulum swing toward the sombre Apollonian pole: the Dionysian ideal of joy is dominant. The month of January inspired the book, and Nietzsche says in his Ecce Homo that it was the most wonderful month of January he had ever spent. This spirit of gaiety was to remain with him in some degree throughout the remainder of his life. He realised that his preparatory work was completed. He saw his way clear to forge ahead as his doctrines led him; and his exuberance no doubt grew out of the satisfaction he took in this prospect.

Although the contents of "The Joyful Wisdom" are not inherently a part of Nietzsche's philosophy, but only detached applications of his theories—ideas which floated to the surface of his doctrines—the material encountered here is of wide and varied interest. There are criticisms of German and Southern culture; valuations of modern authors; views on the developments of art; theories of music; analyses of Schopenhauer and an explanation of his vogue; judgments of the ancient and the modern theatre; excursions into philological fields; arraignments of contemporary classicism; doctrines of creative artistry; personal paragraphs on mental culture, politics and commerce. ... The book is, in fact, more critical than philosophical.

Nietzsche never entirely dissevered himself from his time and from the habits, both of thought and action, which characterised his contemporaries. From his first academic essays to his last transvaluation of values, he remained the patient and analytical observer of the life about him. For this reason it has been argued among disciples of "pure" thinking that he was not, in the strictest sense of the word, a "philosopher," but rather a critically intellectual force. This diagnosis might carry weight had not Nietzsche avowedly built his philosophical structure on a repudiation of abstract thinking. This misunderstanding of him arose from the adherents of rational thinking overlooking the fact that, where the older philosophers had detached themselves from reality because of the instability of natural hypotheses, Nietzsche re-established human bases on which he founded his syllogisms. Therefore one should not attempt to divorce the purely critical from the purely philosophical in his writings. Even in a book so frankly critical as "The Joyful Wisdom" there is a directing force of theoretical unity.

This is especially true of the third section. This division is made up almost entirely of comments on men and affairs, short analyses of human attitudes, desultory excursions into the sociological, brief remarks on man's emotional nature, apothegms dealing with human attributes, bits of racy philosophical gossip, religious and scientific maxims, and the like. Sometimes these observations are cynical, sometimes gracious, sometimes bitter, sometimes buoyant, sometimes merely witty. But all of them are welded together by a profound conception of humanity.

The most stimulating division of the book is the fourth, in which Nietzsche's good humour is at its height. This section is a glorification of victory and of all those hardy qualities which go into the perfecting of the individual. Nietzsche reverses Schiller's famous doctrine expressed in "Die Braut von Messina": "Life is not of all good the highest." He sees no good over and beyond that of human relationships. The normal instincts to him are the ones which affirm life; the abnormal instincts are those which deny it. The former are summed up in the ethics of Greece under the sway of Dionysus; the latter are epitomised in the Christian religion.

The fifth book, called "We Fearless Ones," and the appendix of "Songs of Prince Free-as-a-Bird" were written four years later than the other material and added with an introduction in a later edition of the book. These addenda, while less specific and of a more dialectic nature than the preceding parts, are in spirit manifestly the same as the rest of the book.

In "The Joyful Wisdom" we have again an aphoristic style of writing, although it has become keener and more sure of itself since "Human, All-Too-Human" and "The Dawn of Day." In making selections from this book I have chosen those passages which are more general in tone. The connection between the various aphorisms is here even slighter than is Nietzsche's wont, and for that reason no attempt has been made to present a continuous perception of the work. However, the excerpts which follow, though of a less popular nature, are more intimately related to his thoughts than the ones omitted, and consequently are of more interest to the student.

[1] Love of (one's) destiny.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE JOYFUL WISDOM"

Whether I look with a good or an evil eye upon men, I find them always at one problem, each and all of them: to do that which conduces to the conservation of the human species. 31

To laugh at oneself as one would have to laugh in order to laugh out of the veriest truth,—to do this the best have not hitherto had enough of the sense of truth, and the most endowed have had far too little genius! There is perhaps still a future even for laughter! 32

The ignoble nature is distinguished by the fact that it keeps its advantage steadily in view, and that this thought of the end and advantage is even stronger than its strongest impulse: not to be tempted to inexpedient activities by its impulses—that is its wisdom and inspiration. In comparison with the ignoble nature the higher nature is more irrational:—for the noble, magnanimous, and self-sacrificing person succumbs in fact to his impulses, and in his best moments his reason lapses altogether. 37

The strongest and most evil spirits have hitherto advanced mankind the most: they always rekindled the sleeping passions—all orderly arranged society lulls the passions to sleep. 39

The lust of property and love: what different associations each of these ideas evokes!—and yet it might be the same impulse twice named. 51

The poison by which the weaker nature is destroyed is strengthening to the strong individual—and he does not call it poison. 56-57

The virtues of a man are called good, not in respect of the results they have for himself, but in respect of the results which we expect therefrom for ourselves and for society.... The praise of the virtues is the praise of something which is privately injurious to the individual; it is praise of impulses which deprive man of his noblest self-love, and the power to take the best care of himself.... The "neighbour" praises unselfishness because he profits by it! If the neighbour were "unselfishly" disposed himself, he would reject that destruction of power, that injury for his advantage, he would thwart such inclinations in their origin, and above all he would manifest his unselfishness just by not giving it a good name! 58-60

Living—that is to be cruel and inexorable towards all that becomes weak and old in ourselves, and not only in ourselves. 68

It is probable that the manufacturers and great magnates of commerce have hitherto lacked too much all those forms and attributes of a superior race, which alone make persons interesting; if they had had the nobility of the newly-born in their looks and bearing, there would perhaps have been no socialism in the masses of the people. For these are really ready for slavery of every kind, provided that the superior class above them constantly shows itself legitimately superior, and born to command—by its noble presence! 78

When one continually prohibits the expression of the passions as something to be left to the "vulgar," to coarser, bourgeois, and peasant natures—that is, when one does not want to suppress the passions themselves, but only their language and demeanour, one nevertheless realises therewith just what one does not want: the suppression of the passions themselves, or at least their weakening and alteration.... 83

In magnanimity there is the same amount of egoism as in revenge.... 86-87

Where bad eyesight can no longer see the evil impulse as such, on account of its refinement,—there man sets up the kingdom of goodness.... 88

To become the advocate of the rule—that may perhaps be the ultimate form and refinement in which nobility of character will reveal itself on earth. 90

Women are all skilful in exaggerating their weaknesses, indeed they are inventive in weaknesses, so as to seem quite fragile ornaments to which even a grain of dust does harm; their existence is meant to bring home to man's mind his coarseness, and to appeal to his conscience. 101

There is something quite astonishing and extraordinary in the education of women of the higher class; indeed, there is perhaps nothing more paradoxical. All the world is agreed to educate them with as much ignorance as possible in erotics, and to inspire their soul with a profound shame of such things, and the extremest impatience and horror at the suggestion of them. It is really here only that all the "honour" of women is at stake; what would one not forgive in them in other respects! But here they are intended to remain ignorant to the very backbone:—they are intended to have neither eyes, ears, words, nor thoughts for this, their "wickedness"; indeed knowledge here is already evil. And then! To be hurled as with an awful thunderbolt into reality and knowledge with marriage—and indeed by him whom they most love and esteem: to have to encounter love and shame in contradiction, yea, to have to feel rapture, abandonment, duty, sympathy, and fright at the unexpected proximity of God and animal, and whatever else besides! all at once!—There, in fact, a psychic entanglement has been effected which is quite unequalled! Even the sympathetic curiosity of the wisest discerner of men does not suffice to divine how this or that woman gets along with the solution of this enigma and the enigma of this solution; what dreadful, far-reaching suspicions must awaken thereby in the poor unhinged soul; and forsooth, how the ultimate philosophy and scepticism of the woman casts anchor at this point!—Afterwards the same profound silence as before: and often even a silence to herself, a shutting of her eyes to herself.—Young wives on that account make great efforts to appear superficial and thoughtless; the most ingenious of them simulate a kind of impudence.—Wives easily feel their husbands as a question-mark to their honour, and their children as an apology or atonement,—they require children, and wish for them in quite another spirit than a husband wishes for them.—In short, one cannot be gentle enough towards women! 104-105

Of what consequence is all our art in artistic products, if that higher art, the art of the festival, be lost by us? 124

The best thing I could say in honour of Shakespeare, the man, is that he believed in Brutus and cast not a shadow of suspicion on the kind of virtue which Brutus represents! 131

We must rest from ourselves occasionally by contemplating and looking down upon ourselves, and by laughing or weeping over ourselves from an artistic remoteness: we must discover the hero, and likewise the fool, that is hidden in our passion for knowledge; we must now and then be joyful in our folly, that we may continue to be joyful in our wisdom! And just because we are heavy and serious men in our ultimate depth, and are rather weights than men, there is nothing that does us so much good as the fool's cap and bells: we need them in presence of ourselves—we need all arrogant, soaring, dancing, mocking, childish and blessed Art, in order not to lose the free dominion over things which our ideal demands of us. 146

The general character of the world ... is to all eternity chaos; not by the absence of necessity, but in the sense of the absence of order, structure, form, beauty, wisdom, and whatever else our æsthetic humanities are called. Judged by our reason, the unlucky casts are far oftenest the rule, the exceptions are not the secret purpose; and the whole musical box repeats eternally its air, which can never be called a melody,—and finally the very expression, "unlucky cast" is already an anthropomorphising which involves blame. But how could we presume to blame or praise the universe! Let us be on our guard against ascribing to it heartlessness and unreason, or their opposites; it is neither perfect, nor beautiful, nor noble; nor does it seek to be anything of the kind, it does not at all attempt to imitate man! It is altogether unaffected by our æsthetic and moral judgments! Neither has it any self-preservative instinct, nor instinct at all; it also knows no law. Let us be on our guard against saying that there are laws in nature. There are only necessities: there is no one who commands, no one who obeys, no one who transgresses. When you know that there is no design, you know also that there is no chance: for it is only where there is a world of design that the word "chance" has a meaning. Let us be on our guard against saying that death is contrary to life. The living being is only a species of dead being, and a very rare species.—Let us be on our guard against thinking that the world eternally creates the new. There are no eternally enduring substances; matter is just another such error as the God of the Eleatics. 152-153.

Man has been reared by his errors: firstly, he saw himself always imperfect; secondly, he attributed to himself imaginary qualities; thirdly, he felt himself in a false position in relation to the animals and nature; fourthly, he always devised new tables of values, and accepted them for a time as eternal and unconditioned, so that at one time this, and at another time that human impulse or state stood first, and was ennobled in consequence. When one has deducted the effect of these four errors, one has also deducted humanity, humaneness, and "human dignity." 160

Morality is the herd-instinct in the individual. 161

There is no such thing as health in itself, and all attempts to define a thing in that way have lamentably failed. It is necessary to know thy aim, thy horizon, thy powers, thy impulses, thy errors, and especially the ideals and fantasies of thy soul, in order to determine what health implies even for thy body. 163

Mystical explanations are regarded as profound; the truth is that they do not even go the length of being superficial. 169

I set the following propositions against those of Schopenhauer —Firstly, in order that Will may arise, an idea of pleasure and pain is necessary. Secondly, that a vigorous excitation may be felt as pleasure or pain, is the affair of the interpreting intellect, which, to be sure, operates thereby for the most part unconsciously to us, and one and the same excitation may be interpreted as pleasure or pain. Thirdly, it is only in an intellectual being that there is pleasure, displeasure and Will; the immense majority of organisms have nothing of the kind. 171

Prayer has been devised for such men as have never any thoughts of their own, and to whom an elevation of the soul is unknown, or passes unnoticed. 171

Sin, as it is at present felt wherever Christianity prevails or has prevailed, is a Jewish feeling and a Jewish invention. 174

A Jesus Christ was only possible in a Jewish landscape—I mean in one over which the gloomy and sublime thunder-cloud of the angry Jehovah hung continually. 176

Where there is ruling there are masses: where there are masses there is need of slavery. Where there is slavery the individuals are but few, and have the instincts and conscience of the herd opposed to them. 183

We love the grandeur of Nature and have discovered it; that is because human grandeur is lacking in our minds. 186

Egoism is the perspective law of our sentiment, according to which the near appears large and momentous, while in the distance the magnitude and importance of all things diminish. 187

He who knows that he is profound strives for clearness; he who would like to appear profound to the multitude strives for obscurity. The multitude thinks everything profound of which it cannot see the bottom; it is so timid and goes so unwillingly into the water. 190

Thoughts are the shadows of our sentiments—always, however, obscurer, emptier, and simpler. 192

To laugh means to love mischief, but with a good conscience. 196

Virtue gives happiness and a state of blessedness only to those who have a strong faith in their virtue:—not, however, to the more refined souls whose virtue consists of a profound distrust of themselves and of all virtue. After all, therefore, it is "faith that saves" here also!—and be it well observed, not virtue! 198

Although the most intelligent judges of the witches, and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, the guilt, nevertheless, was not there. So it is with all guilt. 205

It makes me happy to see that men do not want to think at all of the idea of death! I would fain do something to make the idea of life even a hundred times more worthy of their attention. 215-216

I greet all the signs indicating that a more manly and warlike age is commencing, which will, above all, bring heroism again into honour! For it has to prepare the way for a yet higher age, and gather the force which the latter will one day require,—the age which will carry heroism into knowledge, and wage war for the sake of ideas and their consequences. 218-219

They are disagreeable to me, those men in whom every natural inclination forthwith becomes a disease, something disfiguring, or even disgraceful. They have seduced us to the opinion that the inclinations and impulses of men are evil; they are the cause of our great injustice to our own nature, and to all nature! There are enough of men who may yield to their impulses gracefully and carelessly: but they do not do so, for fear of that imaginary "evil thing" in nature! That is the cause why there is so little nobility to be found among men: the indication of which will always be to have no fear of oneself, to expect nothing disgraceful from oneself, to fly without hesitation whithersoever we are impelled—we free-born birds! Wherever we come, there will always be freedom and sunshine around us. 229

Every one knows at present that the ability to endure contradiction is a high indication of culture. Some people even know that the higher man courts opposition, and provokes it, so as to get a cue to his hitherto unknown partiality. But the ability to contradict, the attainment of good conscience in hostility to the accustomed, the traditional and the hallowed,—that is more than both the above-named abilities, and is the really great, new and astonishing thing in our culture, the step of all steps of the emancipated intellect: who knows that? 232

In the main all those moral systems are distasteful to me which say: "Do not do this! Renounce! Overcome thyself!" On the other hand I am favourable to those moral systems which stimulate me to do something, and to do it again from morning till evening, and dream of it at night, and think of nothing else but to do it well, as well as it is possible for me alone!... 238

In pain there is as much wisdom as in pleasure: like the latter it is one of the best self-preservatives of a species. Were it not so, pain would long ago have been done away with; that it is hurtful is no argument against it, for to be hurtful is its very essence. 247

One form of honesty has always been lacking among founders of religions and their kin:—they have never made their experiences a matter of the intellectual conscience.... But we who are different, who are thirsty for reason, want to look as carefully into our experiences, as in the case of a scientific experiment, hour by hour, day by day! We ourselves want to be our own experiments, and our own subjects of experiment. 248

Let us no longer think so much about punishing, blaming, improving! We shall seldom be able to alter an individual, and if we should succeed in doing so, something else may also succeed, perhaps unawares: we may have been altered by him! Let us rather see to it that our own influence on all that is to come outweighs and overweighs his influence! Let us not struggle in direct conflict!—all blaming, punishing, and desire to improve comes under this category. 249

Who could know how to laugh well and live well, who did not first understand the full meaning of war and victory? 250

That delightful animal, man, seems to lose his good-humour whenever he thinks well; he becomes "serious"! And "where there is laughing and gaiety, thinking cannot be worth anything:"—so speaks the prejudice of this serious animal against all "Joyful Wisdom." 252-253

If you had thought more acutely, observed more accurately, and had learned more, you would no longer under all circumstances call this and that your "duty" and your "conscience": the knowledge how moral judgments have in general always originated, would make you tired of these pathetic words.... 261

We would seek to become what we are,—the new, the unique, the incomparable, making laws for ourselves and creating ourselves! And for this purpose we must become the best students and discoverers of all the laws and necessities in the world. We must be physicists in order to be creators in that sense,—whereas hitherto all appreciations and ideals have been based on ignorance of physics, or in contradiction to it. 203

Our "benefactors" lower our value and volition more than our enemies. 265

It is always a metaphysical belief on which our belief in science rests,—and that even we knowing ones of to-day, the godless and anti-metaphysical, still take our fire from the conflagration kindled by a belief a millennium old, the Christian belief, which was also the belief of Plato, that God is truth, that the truth is divine. 279

Belief is always most desired, most pressingly needed where there is a lack of will: for the will, as emotion of command, is the distinguishing characteristic of sovereignty and power. That is to say, the less a person knows how to command, the more urgent is his desire for one who commands, who commands sternly,—a God, a prince, a caste, a physician, a confessor, a dogma, a party conscience. 286

To seek self-preservation merely, is the expression of a state of distress, or of limitation of the true, fundamental instinct of life, which aims at the extension of power, and with this in view often enough calls in question self-preservation and sacrifices it. 289

The subtlety and strength of consciousness are always in proportion to the capacity for communication of a man (or an animal), the capacity for communication in its turn being in proportion to the necessity for communication.... Consciousness generally has only been developed under the pressure of the necessity for communication, —that from the first it has been necessary and useful only between man and man (especially between those commanding and those obeying), and has only developed in proportion to its utility. 296-297

The Church is under all circumstances a nobler institution than the State. 314

It seems to me one of my most essential steps and advances that I have learned to distinguish the cause of the action generally from the cause of action in a particular manner, say, in this direction, with this aim. The first kind of cause is a quantum of stored-up force, which waits to be used in some manner, for some purpose; the second kind of cause, on the contrary, is something quite unimportant in comparison with the first, an insignificant hazard for the most part, in conformity with which the quantum of force in question "discharges" itself in some unique and definite manner: the lucifer-match in relation to the barrel of gunpowder. 317

I will never admit that we should speak of equal rights in the love of man and woman: there are no such equal rights. The reason is that man and woman understand something different by the term love,—and it belongs to the conditions of love in both sexes that the one sex does not presuppose the same feeling, the same conception of "love," in the other sex. What woman understands by love is clear enough: complete surrender (not merely devotion) of soul and body, without any motive, without any reservation, rather with shame and terror at the thought of a devotion restricted by clauses or associated with conditions. In this absence of conditions her love is precisely a faith: woman has no other.—Man, when he loves a woman, wants precisely this love from her; he is consequently, as regards himself, furthest removed from the prerequisites of feminine love; granted, however, that there should also be men to whom on their side the demand for complete devotion is not unfamiliar,—well, they are really—not men. A man who loves like a woman becomes thereby a slave: a woman, however, who loves like a woman becomes thereby a more perfect woman.... Woman wants to be taken and accepted as a possession, she wishes to be merged in the conceptions of "possession" and "possessed"; consequently she wants one who takes, who does not offer and give himself away, but who reversely is rather to be made richer in "himself"—by the increase of power, happiness and faith which the woman herself gives to him. Woman gives herself, man takes her.—I do not think one will get over this natural contrast by any social contract, or with the very best will to do justice, however desirable it may be to avoid bringing the severe, frightful, enigmatical, and unmoral elements of this antagonism constantly before our eyes. For love, regarded as complete, great, and full, is nature, and as nature, is to all eternity something "unmoral."—Fidelity is accordingly included in woman's love, it follows from the definition thereof; with man fidelity may readily result in consequence of his love, perhaps as gratitude or idiosyncrasy of taste, and so-called elective affinity, but it does not belong to the essence of his love—and indeed so little, that one might almost be entitled to speak of a natural opposition between love and fidelity in man, whose love is just a desire to possess, and not a renunciation and giving away; the desire to possess, however, comes to an end every time with the possession. 321-323

Everything that is thought, versified, painted and composed, yea, even built and moulded, belongs either to monologic art, or to art before witnesses. Under the latter there is also to be included the apparently monologic art which involves the belief in God, the whole lyric of prayer; because for a pious man there is no solitude,—we, the godless, have been the first to devise this invention. 328

A "scientific" interpretation of the world as you understand it might consequently still be one of the stupidest, that is to say, the most destitute of significance, of all possible world-interpretations.... An essentially mechanical world would be an essentially meaningless World! 339-340

We, the new, the nameless, the hard-to-understand, we firstlings of a yet untried future—we require for a new end also a new means, namely, a new healthiness, stronger, sharper, tougher, bolder and merrier than any healthiness hitherto. 351

Another ideal runs on before us, a strange, tempting ideal, full of danger, to which we should not like to persuade any one, because we do not so readily acknowledge any one's right thereto: the ideal of a spirit who plays naively (that is to say involuntarily and from overflowing abundance and power) with everything that has hitherto been called holy, good, inviolable, divine; to whom the loftiest conception which the people have reasonably made their measure of value, would already imply danger, ruin, abasement, or at least relaxation, blindness, or temporary self-forgetfulness; the ideal of a humanly superhuman welfare and benevolence, which may often enough appear inhuman. ... 352-353

V

"Thus Spake Zarathustra"

He student of Nietzsche can well afford to leave the reading of "Thus Spake Zarathustra" ("Also Sprach Zarathustra") until he has prepared himself for the task by studying Nietzsche's other and less obscure books. In both its conception and execution it differs markedly from all the works which preceded and followed it. It is written in an archaic and poetical style, and in many places is purposely obscure. Nietzsche did not intend it for the general public, and the fourth part was not published until seven years after its completion. It would have been better had "Zarathustra" been withheld from the presses until Nietzsche's other works had gained a wider recognition, for it unfortunately lays itself open to all manner of misunderstanding and misinterpretation. In fact, it is impossible to read "Thus Spake Zarathustra" comprehendingly until several of the other books of this philosopher, such as "The Dawn of Day," "The Genealogy of Morals" and "Beyond Good and Evil," have been consumed and assimilated.

Unfortunately this book, because of the attractive medium of its style, was one of the first to fall into the hands of English speaking people. For many years it was the principal source of the many false accusations against Nietzsche which gained wide circulation. The figures of speech contained in it and the numerous parables which are used to set forth its ideas lend themselves all too easily to falsities of judgment and erroneous evaluations. Reading the book unpreparedly one may find what appear to be unexplainable contradictions and ethical sophistries. Above all, one may wrongly sense the absence of that higher ethical virtue which is denied Nietzsche in quarters where he is least understood, but which every close student of his works knows to form the basis of his thought.

Nietzsche began the writing of "Thus Spake Zarathustra" early in the year 1883, and he did not finish it until the middle of February, 1885. The actual conception of the book came much before this time even, as far back as the summer of 1881. This is when the idea of eternal recurrence first took possession of him. At once he began making notes, using this idea as the basis of Zarathustra's teachings. At this time Nietzsche was just recovering from a siege of ill health which had extended over many years, and no doubt the buoyant and rhapsodic form in which he conceived this work was due to his sudden acquisition of bodily health. The first part was written in ten days, the second part a few months later, and the third part in the autumn of the same year. But it was not until after a lapse of eighteen months that the fourth and last section was completed. Because of this long interval we see a radical difference between the first three parts of the book and the last part. The language remains very much the same throughout—spectacular, poetic and symbolic—but the form is changed. The epigrammatic and non-sequacious mandates give way to a long connected parable. The psalmodie brevity of the utterances of the first three sections is supplanted by description and narrative. A story runs through the entire fourth part; and it is in the obscurities of this fable, rather than in any specific statements, that we must seek the gist of Nietzsche's doctrines. This would be an impossible task were we not more or less familiar with his other books. Yet, once we understand the general trend of his thought, we can penetrate at once to the meanings hidden in the fantastic divagations of his story and can understand the dithyrambic utterances of both Zarathustra and the "higher men" in the cave.

"Thus Spake Zarathustra" is unique for the reason that there are few points in Nietzsche's system of ethic -and for the most part they are the unimportant ones—which we cannot find somewhere in its pages. But do not think that one can grasp an idea of the sweep of his entire thought merely by reading this book. Even in the most simply worded and most lucidly phrased passages one would find difficulty in following the steps in his philosophy, unless there had been considerable preparatory study. To be sure, there are numerous isolated epigrams and bits of observation which are easily understood, but their mere isolation very often robs them of the true meaning they hold when related to the other precepts. The very literalness with which these passages have been taken by those who have read "Zarathustra" before studying any of the other works of Nietzsche, accounts in a large measure for the ignorance in which he is held even by those who profess to have read him and understood him. A philosophy such as his, the outposts of which are so far removed from the routine of our present social life, is naturally hampered by the restricted connotation of current words—even those technical words used to express abstract and infinite things. For this reason it is inevitable that false meanings should attach to many of his statements, and that misunderstandings should arise in quarters where there does not exist a previous general knowledge of the co-ordinated structure of his teachings. This general knowledge cannot be gained from "Thus Spake Zarathustra." Many of its pages are entirely without significance to the reader not already acquainted with Nietzsche's thought. And much of its nomenclature is meaningless without the explanations to be found in the main body of his work.

For the reader, however, who picks up this book after having equipped himself for an understanding of it, there is much of fascination and stimulation. Nietzsche regarded it as his most intimate and personal, and therefore his most important, work. He even had plans for two more parts which were to be included in it. But these were never finished. The indifference with which the book was received, even by those on whose sympathy and understanding he had most counted, reacted unfavourably upon him. It is nevertheless, just as it stands, one of the most remarkable pieces of philosophic literature of modern times. Its form alone makes it unique. Instead of stating his beliefs directly and without circumlocution, as was always his method both before and after the writing of this book, Nietzsche chose for his mouthpiece a poet and philosopher borrowed from the Persians, namely: Zoroaster. This sage of the ancients was used as a symbol of the higher man. Into his mouth were put Nietzsche's own ideas in the form of parables, admonitions, exhortations and discourses. The wanderings and experiences of this Zoroaster are chronicled, and each event in his life embodies a meaning in direct accord with the Nietzschean system of conduct.

Because of the Persian origin of Zoroaster one might imagine that influences of Persian philosophy would be discoverable in the teachings of this nomadic poet. But with the name all similarity between the spokesman and his doctrines ends. Nietzsche's choice of Zoroaster as his mouthpiece grew out of his early admiration for the Persians who, he declared, "were the first to take a broad and comprehensive view of history." As we see Zoroaster in this book we recognise him at once as none other than Nietzsche himself; and the experiences through which he goes in his wanderings are but picturesquely stated accounts of Nietzsche's own sufferings, raptures, aspirations and disappointments. To those familiar with Nietzsche's life, many of the characters introduced in the book will be recognised as portraitures of men whose lives crossed that of the philosopher. Likewise, many of the parables and fables are thinly disguised accounts of the incidents in his own life. In the last part of the book we find Nietzsche creating a fantastic poet to represent Wagner, and holding him up to severe and uncompromising criticism.

Zoroaster, as he appears in this book, is an itinerant law-giver and prophet who seeks the waste places of the earth, the mountains, plains and sea shores, avoiding mankind and carrying with him two symbolic animals, an eagle and a snake. At the end of his wanderings he discovers a lion which is for him the sign that his journey is drawing to a close, for this lion represents all that is best and most powerful in nature. The book is comprised of the discourses and sermons which Zoroaster delivers from day to day to the occasional disciples and unbelievers who cross the path of his wanderings. There are conversations between him and his accompanying animals; and in the last part of the book he gathers together in his cave a number of men representing types of the higher man and talks with them. In all his discourses he makes use of a rhapsodic and poetic style, not unlike that found in the Psalms of David. The text telling of Zoroaster's wanderings and experiences is cast in the manner of the early religious books of the Orientals.

"Thus Spake Zarathustra" was the first book to follow "Human, All-Too-Human," "The Dawn of Day" and "The Joyful Wisdom," and many of Nietzsche's constructive ideas are presented here for the first time. Part I is more lucid and can be more easily understood than the parts which follow. In it Nietzsche designates the classes of humanity and differentiates between them. His three famous metamorphoses of the spirit—symbolised by the camel, the lion and the child—are stated and explained. Here we find the philosopher's most widely quoted passages pertaining to marriage and child-bearing; his doctrine of war and peace; and those passages wherein he reverses the beatitudes. The passions and preferences of the individual are criticised in their relation to the higher man, and the more obvious instincts are analysed. Nietzsche outlines methods of conduct, and dissects the actions and attitudes of his disciples, praising them or blaming them in accordance with his own values. He presents an illuminating analysis of charity, and outlines in his chapter, "The Bestowing Virtue," the conditions under which it may become a means to existence. He poses the problem of relative morality, and suggests the lines along which his thesis will be developed at a later date. The superman is defined briefly but with a completeness sufficient for us to sense his relation to the philosophical scheme of which he is a part. The conception of the superman was founded on Darwin's doctrine of organic evolution, and Nietzsche seeks to bring this superman about by the application of the law of natural selection and by giving the law of the survival of the fittest an open field for operation. Here, too, we have the statement of Nietzsche's racial ideal: the highest exemplars of the race, and not a standardized goal, is the aim of his philosophy.

In Part II the doctrine of the will to power is clearly set forth in its framework. The chapter wherein this appears—"Self-Surpassing"—is merely a brief exposition founded on observation. The development of this idea is not to be found until toward the end of Nietzsche's life; but that the theory was clearly conceived in his mind is evidenced by the fact that it is constantly being applied throughout the remainder of his works. In its present form it is no more than a statement, but so clearly is it presented that one is able to grasp its significance and to determine in just what manner it differed from the Darwinian and Spencerian doctrines. In this same section are contained many personal chapters, including an excoriation of his early critics, a comparison between himself and Schopenhauer, an account of his early anti-scholastic warfare, a criticism of modern scientific methods, a reference to his friendship with Wagner, and an expression of regret at the misunderstanding which greeted his earlier works. One of the final chapters offers a definition of "profundity" which goes deep into the very undercurrents of his philosophy.

The most important material to be found in the book is encountered in Part III. Under the caption, "The Old and the New Tables," we have an important summing up of the principal teachings in the Nietzschean philosophical scheme. Here also we meet the doctrine of eternal recurrence which, as I have said, generated the conception of this book. Its present statement is limited to a few tentative speculations; later on it was developed and set forth with greater force and certainty. But despite the fact that in his autobiography Nietzsche calls this speculative philosophic doctrine "the highest of all possible formulæ of a Yea-saying philosophy," too much importance must not be attached to it in its relation to his writings. In the first place it was by no means new with him: he himself reconnoitred a bit in one of his early essays looking for its possible origin. And in the second place it had little influence on his main doctrine of the superman. Although he spent considerable time and space in its elucidation, it never became an integral part of any of his teachings. Rather was it something superimposed on his other formulæ—a condition introduced into the actualities of his conception of the universe. I am inclined to think that he flirted with this idea of recurrence largely because it was the most disheartening obstacle he could conceive in the path of the superman; and as no obstacle was too great to be faced triumphantly by this man of the future, he imposed this condition of eternal recurrence upon him as an ultimate test of fortitude. This idea would have added the final touch of futility to ambition, and Nietzsche could not conceive of true greatness in man unless futility was at the bottom of all ambitions. However, it is possible to eliminate the entire idea of eternal recurrence from Nietzsche's work without altering fundamentally any of his main teachings, for it is, in his very conception of it, a deputy condition of existence.

Part IV, the narrative section, answers the query often raised: For whom is Nietzsche's philosophy intended? It does away once and for all with the assumption of certain critics that his writings were for all classes. In fact, this assumption, constantly posited by scholars—even those who claim to possess an intimate knowledge of Nietzsche's work—is nowhere borne out in his text. As far back as "Thoughts out of Season" the reverse of this supposition was inferentially stated; and in "The Antichrist" and "The Will to Power" we have definite denials that his doctrines were intended for every one. Yet one is constantly encountering critical refutations of his philosophy based on the theory that he addressed his teachings to all men. Nothing could be further from the truth. He held no vision of a race of supermen: a millennium founded on the exertion of power was neither his aim nor his hope. His philosophy was entirely aristocratic. It was a system of ethics designed for the masters of the race; and his books were gifts for the intelligent man alone. Locke, Rousseau and Hume are often brought forward by critics as answers to his attempts at transvaluation; but a close inspection of Nietzsche's definition of slave-morality, which was an important factor in his ethical scheme, will show that it is possible to accept the philosophy of the superman without abrogating the softer ethics of these three other thinkers. Nietzsche's stand in regard to his audience is made obvious in the fable of Zarathustra. The poet-philosopher experiences the instinct for pity, but on going out into the world, he recognises this instinct as pertaining only to the "higher men." When he finds numerous of these men in danger from the ignorance of the populace and from the restrictions of environment, he leads them to his cave, and there, isolated from the inferior man, discourses with them on the problems of life and points out to them the course they must take in order to bring about the superman.

Because of the nature of the book it is extremely difficult to select detached passages from it which will give an entirely adequate idea of its contents. Often a single philosophical point will be contained in a long parable, and the only way to present that point in Nietzsche's own words would have been to embody the whole parable in this chapter. That, of course, would have been impossible. Therefore, many of the ideas set forth in the book have not been included in the following excerpts. Part IV does not lend itself at all to mutilation, and I have been unable to take anything save a few general passages from this section. However, "Thus Spake Zarathustra" is not a book to which one should go to become familiar with Nietzsche's teachings. When one sits down to read it, my advice is that the notes of Mr. Anthony M. Ludovici which are to be found in the appendix of the standard English edition, be followed closely.

EXCERPTS FROM "THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA"

I teach you the Superman... Man is something that is to be surpassed. 6

What is the ape to man? A laughing-stock, a thing of shame. And just the same shall man be to the Superman: a laughing-stock, a thing of shame. 6

Ye have made your way from the worm to man, and much within you is still worm. Once were ye apes, and even yet man is more of an ape than any of the apes. 7

I conjure you, my brethren, remain true to the earth. and believe not those who speak unto you of super-earthly hopes! Poisoners are they, whether they know it or not. 7

To blaspheme the earth is now the dreadfulest sin.... 7

Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman—a rope over an abyss. 9

What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal.... 9

I tell you: one must still have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star.... 12

Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I designate to you: how the spirit becometh a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.

Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the strong load-bearing spirit in which reverence dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth its strength.

What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit; then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth to be well laden.

What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me and rejoice in my strength.

Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to mortify one's pride? To exhibit one's folly in order to mock at one's wisdom?

Or is it this: To desert our cause when it celebrateth its triumph? To ascend high mountains to tempt the tempter?

Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of knowledge, and for the sake of truth to suffer hunger of soul?

Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters, and make friends of the deaf, who never hear thy requests?

Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the water of truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot toads?

Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and give one's hand to the phantom when it is going to frighten us?

All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit taketh upon itself: and like the camel, which, when laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so hasteneth the spirit into its wilderness.

But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the second metamorphosis: here the spirit becometh a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its own wilderness.

Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to him, and to its last God; for victory will it struggle with the great dragon.

What is the great dragon which the spirit is no longer inclined to call Lord and God? "Thou shalt," is the great dragon called. But the spirit of the lion saith, "I will."

"Thou shalt," lieth in its path, sparkling with gold—a scale-covered beast; and on every scale glittereth golden, "Thou shalt!"

The values of a thousand years glitter on those scales, and thus speaketh the mightiest of all dragons: "All the values of things—glitter on me."

"All values have already been created, and all created values—do I represent. Verily, there shall be no 'I will' any more." Thus speaketh the dragon.

My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of burden, which renounceth and is reverent?

To create new values—that, even the lion cannot yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for new creating—that can the might of the lion do.

To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is need of the lion.

To assume the right to new values—that is the most formidable assumption for a load-bearing and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a spirit it is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.

As its holiest, it once loved "Thou shalt": now is it forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even in the holiest things, that it may capture freedom from its love: the lion is needed for this capture.

But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do, which even the lion could not do? Why hath the preying lion still to become a child?

Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a holy Yea.

Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren, there is needed a holy Yea unto life: its own will, willeth now the spirit; his own world winneth the world's outcast.

Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I designated to you: how the spirit became a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a child. 25-27

A new pride ... teach I unto men: no longer to thrust the head into the sand of celestial things, but to carry it freely, a terrestrial head, which giveth meaning to the earth!

A new will teach I unto men: to choose that path which man hath followed blindly, and to approve of it—and no longer to slink aside from it, like the sick and perishing!

The sick and perishing—it was they who despised the body and the earth, and invented the heavenly world, and the redeeming blood-drops; but even those sweet and sad poisons they borrowed from the body and the earth! 33-34

The awakened one, the knowing one, saith: "Body am I entirely, and nothing more; and soul is only the name of something in the body." 35

The body is a big sagacity, a plurality with one sense, a war and a peace, a flock and a shepherd.

An instrument of thy body is also thy little sagacity, my brother, which thou callest "spirit"—a little instrument and plaything of thy big sagacity.

Instruments and playthings are sense and spirit: behind them there is still the Self. The Self seeketh with the eyes of the senses, it hearkeneth also with the ears of the spirit. 36

Behind thy thoughts and feelings, my brother, there is a mighty lord, an unknown sage—it is called Self; it dwelleth in thy body, it is thy body. 36

When thou hast a virtue, and it is thine own virtue, thou hast it in common with no one. 38

If thou be fortunate, then wilt thou have one virtue and no more: thus goest thou easier over the bridge. 39

"Enemy" shall ye say but not "villain," "invalid" shall ye say but not "wretch," "fool" shall ye say but not "sinner." 41

Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit. 43

Ye look aloft when ye long for exaltation; and I look downward because I am exalted.

Who among you can at the same time laugh and be exalted?

He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic plays and tragic realities.

Courageous, unconcerned, scornful, coercive—so wisdom wisheth us; she is a woman, and ever loveth a warrior. 44

It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but because we are wont to love. 44

I should only believe in a God that would know how to dance.

Not by wrath, but by laughter, do we slay. Come, let us slay the spirit of gravity! 45

Full is the earth of the superfluous; marred is life by the many-too-many. May they be decoyed out of this life by the "life eternal"! 49

Ye are not great enough not to know of hatred and envy. Then be great enough not to be ashamed of them! 51

Ye shall love peace as a means to new wars—and the short peace more than the long.

You I advise not to work, but to fight. You, I advise not to peace, but to victory. Let your work be a fight, let your peace be a victory! 52

Ye say it is the good cause which halloweth even war? I say unto you: it is the good war which halloweth every cause. 52.

"What is good?" ye ask. To be brave is good. 52 Ye shall only have enemies to be hated, but not enemies to be despised. Ye must be proud of your enemies; then, the successes of your enemies are also your successes. 53

A state is called the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly lieth it also; and this lie creepeth from its mouth: "I, the state, am the people." 54

Just see these superfluous ones! They steal the works of the inventors and the treasures of the wise. Culture, they call their theft—and everything becometh sickness and trouble unto them! 56

Around the devisers of new values revolveth the world:—invisibly it revolveth. But around the actors revolve the people and the glory: such is the course of things. 58

Would that ye were perfect—at least as animals! But to animals belongeth innocence. 61

Chastity is a virtue with some, but with many almost a vice. 61

To whom chastity is difficult, it is to be dissuaded: lest it become the road to hell—to filth and lust of soul. 62

If one would have a friend, then must one also be willing to wage war for him: and in order to wage war, one must be capable of being an enemy. 63

In one's friend one shall have one's best enemy. Thou shalt be closest unto him with thy heart when thou withstandest him. 63

Art thou a slave? Then thou canst not be a friend. Art thou a tyrant? Then thou canst not have friends.

Far too long hath there been a slave and a tyrant concealed in woman. On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship: she knoweth only love.

In woman's love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not love. And even in woman's conscious love, there is still always surprise and lightning and night, along with the light. 65

Values did man only assign to things in order to maintain himself—he created only the significance of things, a human significance! Therefore, calleth he himself "man," that is, the valuator. 67

A thousand goals have there been hitherto, for a thousand peoples have there been. Only the fetter for the thousand necks is still lacking; there is lacking the one goal. As yet humanity hath not a goal. 69

Do I advise you to neighbour-love? Rather do I advise you to neighbour-flight and to furthest love!

Higher than love to your neighbour is love to the furthest and future ones; higher still than love to men, is love to things and phantoms.

The phantom that runneth on before thee, my brother, is fairer than thou; why dost thou not give unto it thy flesh and thy bones?... 69

Art thou one entitled to escape from a yoke? Many a one hath cast away his final worth when he hath cast away his servitude.

Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra! Clearly, however, shall thine eye show unto me: free for what? 71

Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman hath one solution—it is called pregnancy.

Man is for woman, a means: the purpose is always the child. But what is woman for man?

Two different things wanteth the true man: danger and diversion. Therefore wanteth he woman, as the most dangerous plaything.

Man shall be trained for war, and woman for the recreation of the warrior: all else is folly.

Two sweet fruits—these the warrior liketh not. Therefore liketh he woman;—bitter is ever the sweetest woman.

Better than man doth woman understand children, but man is more childish than woman.

In the true man there is a child hidden: it wanteth to play. Up then, ye women, and discover the child in man!

A plaything let woman be, pure and fine like the precious stone, illumined with the virtues of a world not yet come.

Let the beam of a star shine in your love! Let your hope say: "May I bear the Superman!"

In your love let there be valour! With your love shall ye assail him who inspireth you with fear!

In your love be your honour! Little doth woman understand otherwise about honour. But let this be your honour: always to love more than ye are loved, and never be the second.

Let man fear woman when she loveth: then maketh she every sacrifice, and everything else she regardeth as worthless.

Let man fear woman when she hateth: for man in his innermost soul is merely evil; woman, however, is mean.

Whom hateth woman most?—Thus spake the iron to the loadstone: "I hate thee most, because thou attractest, but art too weak to draw unto thee."

The happiness of man is, "I will." The happiness of woman is, "He will." 76

Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip! 77

When ... ye have an enemy, then return him not good for evil: for that would abash him. But prove that he hath done something good to you.

And rather be angry than abash any one! And when ye are cursed, it pleaseth me not that ye should then desire to bless. Rather curse a little also! 73

Tell me: where find we justice, which is love with seeing eyes? 78

Thou art young, and desirest child and marriage. But I ask thee: Art thou a man entitled to desire a child? Art thou the victorious one, the self-conqueror, the ruler of thy passions, the master of thy virtues? Thus do I ask thee.

Or doth the animal speak in thy wish, and necessity? Or isolation? Or discord in thee?

I would have thy victory and freedom long for a child. Living monuments shalt thou build to thy victory and emancipation.

Beyond thyself shalt thou build. But first of all must thou be built thyself, rectangular in body and soul. 79

Marriage: so call I the will of the twain to create the one that is more than those who created it. 80

That which the many-too-many call marriage, those superfluous ones—ah, what shall I call it?

Ah, the poverty of soul in the twain! Ah, the filth of soul in the twain! Ah, the pitiable self-complacency in the twain!

Marriage they call it all; and they say their marriages are made in heaven.

Well, I do not like it, that heaven of the superfluous; No, I do not like them, those animals tangled in the heavenly toils!

Far from me also be the God who limpeth thither to bless what he hath not matched!

Laugh not at such marriages! What child hath not had reason to weep over its parents? 80

Every one regardeth dying as a great matter: but as yet death is not a festival. Not yet have people learned to inaugurate the finest festivals. 82

My death, praise I unto you, the voluntary death, which cometh unto me because I want it.

And when shall I want it?—He that hath a goal and an heir, wanteth death at the right time for the goal and the heir. 83

It is your thirst to become sacrifices and gifts yourselves: and therefore have ye the thirst to accumulate all riches in your soul.

Insatiably striveth your soul for treasures and jewels, because your virtue is insatiable in desiring to bestow.

Ye constrain all things to flow towards you and into you, so that they shall flow back again out of your fountain as the gifts of your love.

Verily, an appropriator of all values must such bestowing love become; but healthy and holy, call I this selfishness. 86

When ye are exalted above praise and blame, and your will would command all things, as a loving one's will: there is the origin of your virtue. 87

Remain true to the earth, my brethren, with the power of your virtue! Let your bestowing love and your knowledge be devoted to be the meaning of the earth! Thus do I pray and conjure you.

Let it not fly away from the earthly and beat against eternal walls with its wings! 88

The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies, but also to hate his friends. 90

Once did people say God, when they looked out upon distant seas; now, however, have I taught you to say, Superman. 98

Could ye conceive a God?—But let this mean Will to Truth unto you, that everything be transformed into the humanly conceivable, the humanly visible, the humanly sensible! Your own discernment shall ye follow out to the end! 99

Creating—that is the great salvation from suffering, and life's alleviation. But for the creator to appear, suffering itself is needed, and much transformation. 100

What would there be to create if there were—? Gods! 101

Man himself is to the discerning one: the animal with red cheeks. 102

Verily, I like them not, the merciful ones, whose bliss is in their pity: too destitute are they of bashfulness.

If I must be pitiful, I dislike to be called so; and if I be so, it is preferably at a distance. 102

Since humanity came into being, man hath enjoyed himself too little: that alone, my brethren, is our original sin! 103

Great obligations do not make grateful, but revengeful; and when a small kindness is not forgotten, it becometh a gnawing worm. 103

The sting of conscience teacheth one to sting. 103

Ah, where in the world have there been greater follies than with the pitiful? And what in the world hath caused more suffering than the follies of the pitiful?

Woe unto all loving ones who have not an elevation which is above their pity!

Thus spake the devil unto me, once a time: "Even God hath his hell: it is his love for man." 105

All great love is above all its pity: for it seeketh—to create what is loved!

"Myself do I offer unto my love, and my neighbour as myself"—such is the language of all creators. 105

"Here are priests: but although they are mine enemies, pass them quietly and with sleeping swords!"

Even among them there are heroes; many of them have suffered too much:—so they want to make others suffer.

Bad enemies are they: nothing is more revengeful than their meekness. 106

When a person goeth through fire for his teaching—what doth that prove! It is more, verily, when out of one's own burning cometh one's own teaching! 108

That your very Self be in your action, as the mother is in the child: let that be your formula of virtue! 112

Life is a well of delight; but where the rabble also drink, there all fountains are poisoned. 113

Ye who make the soul giddy, ye preachers of equality! Tarantulas are ye unto me, and secretly revengeful ones! 116

Ye preachers of equality, the tyrant-frenzy of impotence crieth thus in you for "equality": your most secret tyrant-longings disguise themselves thus in virtue-words!

Fretted conceit and suppressed envy—perhaps your fathers' conceit and envy: in you break they forth as flame and frenzy of vengeance. 117

Distrust all in whom the impulse to punish is powerful!

They are people of bad race and lineage; out of their countenances peer the hangman and the sleuth-hound.

Distrust all those who talk much of their justice! Verily, in their souls not only honey is lacking.

And when they call themselves "the good and just," forget not, that for them to be Pharisees, nothing is lacking but—power! 118

With these preachers of equality will I not be mixed up and confounded. For thus speaketh justice unto me: "Men are not equal."

And neither shall they become so! 118

Good and evil, and rich and poor, and high and low, and all names of values: weapons shall they be, and sounding signs, that life must again and again surpass itself! 119

Steadfast and beautiful, let us also be enemies, my friends I Divinely will we strive against one another! 120

Hungry, fierce, lonesome, God-forsaken: so doth the lion-will wish itself.

Free from the happiness of slaves, redeemed from Deities and adorations, fearless and fear-inspiring, grand and lonesome: so is the will of the conscientious. 122

Wherever I found a living thing, there found I Will to Power; and even in the will of the servant found I the will to be master.

That to the stronger the weaker shall serve—thereto persuadeth he his will who would be master over a still weaker one. That delight alone he is unwilling to forego.

And as the lesser surrendereth himself to the greater that he may have delight and power over the least of all, so doth even the greatest surrender himself, and staketh—life, for the sake of power.

It is the surrender of the greatest to run risk and danger, and play dice for death. 136

Good and evil which would be everlasting—it doth not exist! Of its own accord must it ever surpass itself anew. 137

He who hath to be a creator in good and evil—verily, he hath first to be a destroyer, and break values in pieces. 138

Ye tell me, friends, that there is to be no dispute about taste and tasting? But all life is a dispute about taste and tasting.

Taste: that is weight at the same time, and scales and weigher; and alas for every living thing that would live without dispute about weight and scales and weigher! 139

Alien to me, and a mockery, are the present-day men, to whom of late my heart impelled me; and exiled am I from fatherlands and motherlands.

Thus do I love only my children's land, the undiscovered in the remotest sea: for it do I bid my sails search and search.

Unto my children will I make amends for being the child of my fathers: and unto all the future—for this present-day! 145

Where is innocence? Where there is will to procreation. And he who seeketh to create beyond himself, hath for me the purest will.

Where is beauty? Where I must will with my whole Will; where I will love and perish, that an image may not remain merely an image.

Loving and perishing: these have rhymed from eternity. Will to love: that is to be ready also for death. 147

Dare only to believe in yourselves—in yourselves and in your inward parts! He who doth not believe in himself always lieth. 147

All Gods are poets-symbolisations, poet-sophistications! 153

"Freedom" ye all roar most eagerly: but I have unlearned the belief in "great events," when there is much roaring and smoke about them.

And believe me, friend Hollaballoo! The greatest events—are not our noisiest, but our stillest hours.

Not around the inventors of new noise, but around the inventors of new values, doth the world revolve: inaudibly it revolveth. 158

To redeem what is past, and to transform every "It was" into "Thus would have it!"—that only do I call redemption! 168

The spirit of revenge: my friends, that hath hitherto been man's best contemplation; and where there was suffering, it was claimed there was always penalty.

"Penalty," so calleth itself revenge. With a lying word it feigneth a good conscience. 169

This is my first manly prudence, that I allow myself to be deceived, so as not to be on my guard against deceivers. 172

He who would not languish amongst men, must learn to drink out of all glasses; and he who would keep clean amongst men, must know how to wash himself even with dirty water. 17

Verily, there is still a future even for evil! And the warmest south is still undiscovered by man.

How many things are now called the worst wickedness, which are only twelve feet broad and three months long! Some day, however, will greater dragons come into the world.

For that the Superman may not lack his dragon, the superdragon that is worthy of him, there must still much warm sun glow on moist virgin forests!

Out of your wild cats must tigers have evolved, and out of your poison-toads, crocodiles: for the good hunter shall have a good hunt!

And verily, ye good and just! In you there is much to be laughed at, and especially your fear of what hath hitherto been called "the devil"!

So alien are ye in your souls to what is great, that to you the Superman would be frightful in his goodness!

And ye wise and knowing ones, ye would flee from the solar-glow of the wisdom in which the Superman joyfully batheth his nakedness!

Ye highest men who have come within my ken! this is my doubt of you, and my secret laughter: I suspect ye would call my Superman—a devil!

Ah, I became tired of those highest and best ones: from their "height" did I long to be up, out, and away to the Superman!

A horror came over me when I saw those best ones naked: then there grew for me the pinions to soar away into distant futures.

Into more distant futures, into more southern souths than ever artist dreamed of: thither, where Gods are ashamed of all clothes!

But disguised do I want to see you, ye neighbours and fellowmen, and well-attired and vain and estimable, as "the good and just";—

And disguised will I myself sit amongst you—that I may mistake you and myself: for that is my last manly prudence. 174-175

He who would become a child must surmount even his youth. 178

Thou goest the way to thy greatness: here shall no one steal after thee! Thy foot itself hath effaced the path behind thee, and over it standeth written: Impossibility. 184

From the gateway, This Moment, there runneth a long eternal lane backwards: behind us lieth an eternity.

Must not whatever can run its course of all things, have already run along that lane? Must not whatever can happen of all things have already happened, resulted, and gone by?

And if everything have already existed, what thinkest thou, dwarf, of This Moment? Must not this gateway also—have already existed?

And are not all things closely bound together in such wise that This Moment draweth all coming things after it? Consequently—itself also?

For whatever can run its course of all things, also in this long lane outward—must it once more run!—

And this slow spider which creepeth in the moonlight, and this moonlight itself, and thou and I in this gateway whispering together, whispering of eternal things—must we not all have already existed? 186

And must we not return and run in that other lane out before us, that long weird lane—must we not eternally return? 190-191

All things are baptised at the font of eternity, and beyond good and evil; good and evil themselves, however, are but fugitive shadows and damp afflictions and passing clouds.

Verily, it is a blessing and not a blasphemy when I teach that "above all things there standeth, the heaven of chance, the heaven of innocence, the heaven of hazard, the heaven of wantonness."

"Of Hazard"—that is the oldest nobility in the world; that gave I back to all things; I emancipated them from bondage under purpose.

This freedom and celestial serenity did I put like an azure bell above all things, when I taught that over them and through them, no "eternal will"—willeth.

This wantonness and folly did I put in place of that will, when I taught that "In everything there is one thing impossible—rationality!" 201

I pass through this people and keep mine eyes open: they do not forgive me for not envying their virtues.

They bite at me, because I say unto them that for small people, small virtues are necessary—and because it is hard for me to understand that small people are necessary!203

Only he who is man enough, will—save the woman in woman. 205

So much kindness, so much weakness do I see. So much justice and pity, so much weakness.

Round, fair, and considerate are they to one another, as grains of sand are round, fair, and considerate to grains of sand.

Modestly to embrace a small happiness—that do they call "submission"! and at the same time they peer modestly after a new small happiness.

In their hearts they want simply one thing most of all: that no one hurt them. Thus do they anticipate every one's wishes and do well unto every one.

That, however, is cowardice, though it be called "virtue."

And when they chance to speak harshly, those small people, then do I hear therein only their hoarseness—every draught of air maketh them hoarse.

Shrewd indeed are they, their virtues have shrewd fingers. But they lack fists: their fingers do not know how to creep behind fists.

Virtue for them is what maketh modest and tame: therewith have they made the wolf a dog, and man himself man's best domestic animal.

"We set our chair in the midst"—so saith their smirking unto me—"and as far from dying gladiators as from satisfied swine."

That, however, is—mediocrity, though it be called moderation. 206

Those teachers of submission! Wherever there is aught puny, or sickly, or scabby, there do they creep like lice; and only my disgust preventeth me from cracking them. 207

Too tender, too yielding: so is your soil! But for a tree to become great, it seeketh to twine hard roots around hard rocks! 208

Do ever what ye will—but first be such as can will. 208

Love ever your neighbour as yourselves—but first be such as love themselves. 208

Out of love alone shall my contempt and my warning bird take wing; but not out of the swamp!

In indulging and pitying lay ever my greatest danger; and all human hubbub wisheth to be indulged and tolerated. 226

He who liveth amongst the good—pity teacheth him to lie. Pity maketh stifling air for all free souls. For the stupidity of the good is unfathomable. 227

Voluptuousness: to free hearts, a thing innocent and free, the garden-happiness of the earth, all the future's thanks overflow to the present.

Voluptuousness: only to the withered a sweet poison; to the lion-willed, however, the great cordial, and the reverently saved wine of wines.

Voluptuousness: the great symbolic happiness of a higher happiness and highest hope. For to many is marriage promised, and more than marriage.

To many that are more unknown to each other than man and woman:—and who hath fully understood have unknown to each other are man and woman!

Voluptuousness:—but I will have hedges around my thoughts, and even around my words, lest swine and libertine should break into my gardens! 230

Passion for power: the earthquake which breaketh and upbreaketh all that is rotten and hollow; the rolling, rumbling, punitive demolisher of whited sepulchres; the flashing interrogative-sign beside premature answers.

Passion for power: before whose glance man creepeth and croucheth and drudgeth, and becometh lower than the serpent and the swine:—until at last great contempt crieth out of him,—

Passion for power: the terrible teacher of great contempt, which preacheth to their face to cities and empires: "Away with thee!"—until a voice crieth out of themselves: "Away with me!"

Passion for power: which; however, mounteth alluringly even to the pure and lonesome, and up to self-satisfied elevations, glowing like a love that painteth purple felicities alluringly on earthly heavens.

Passion for power: but who would call it passion, when the height longeth to stoop for power! Verily, nothing sick or diseased is there in such longing and descending!

That the lonesome height may not for ever remain lonesome and self-sufficing: that the mountains may come to the valleys and the winds of the heights to the plains:

Oh, who could find the right prenomen and honouring name for such longing! "Bestowing virtue"—thus did Zarathustra once name the unnamable.

And then it happened also,—and verily, it happened for the first time!—that his word blessed selfishness, the wholesome, healthy selfishness, that springeth from the powerful soul:—

From the powerful soul, to which the high body appertaineth, the handsome, triumphing, refreshing body, around which everything becometh a mirror:

The pliant, persuasive body, the dancer, whose symbol and epitome is the self-enjoying soul. Of such bodies and souls the self-enjoyment calleth itself "virtue." 232

He who wisheth to become light, and be a bird, must love himself:—thus do I teach.

Not, to be sure, with the love of the sick and infected, for with them stinketh even self-love!

One must learn to love oneself—thus do I teach—with a wholesome and healthy love: that one may endure to be with oneself, and not go roving about.

Such roving about christeneth itself "brotherly love"; with these words hath there hitherto been the best lying and dissembling, and especially by those who have been burdensome to every one.

And verily, it is no commandment for to-day and to-morrow to learn to love oneself. Rather is it of all arts the finest, subtlest, last and patientest. 235

No one yet knoweth what is good and bad:—unless it be the creating one!

It is he however createth man's goal, and giveth to the earth its meaning and its future: he only effecteth it that aught is good and bad. 240

Man is a bridge and not a goal. 241

Be not considerate of thy neighbour! Man is something that must be surpassed. 243

He who cannot command himself shall obey. And many a one can command himself, but still sorely lacketh self-obedience! 243

He who is of the populace wisheth to live gratuitously; we others, however, to whom life hath given itself—we are ever considering what we can best give in return! 243

One should not wish to enjoy where one doth not contribute to the enjoyment. And one should not wish to enjoy! 243

"Thou shalt not rob! Thou shalt not slay!"—such precepts were once called holy; before them did one bow the knee and the head, and took off one's shoes.

But I ask you: Where have there ever been better robbers and slayers in the world than such holy precepts?

Is there not even in all life—robbing and slaying? And for such precepts to be called holy, was not truth itself thereby—slain? 246

Let it not be your honour henceforth whence ye come, but whither ye go! Your Will and your feet which seek to surpass you—let these be your new honour! 248

The best shall rule, the best also willeth to rule! And where the teaching is different, there—the best is lacking. 257

Thus would I have man and woman: fit for war, the one, fit for maternity, the other; both, however, fit for dancing with head and legs.

And lost be the day to us in which a measure hath not been danced. And false be every truth which hath not had laughter along with it! 257

The stupidity of the good is unfathomably wise.

The good must crucify him who deviseth his own virtue! That is the truth!

The second one, however, who discovered their country—the country, heart and soil of the good and just,—it was he who asked: "Whom do they hate most?"

The creator, hate they most, him who breaketh the tables and old values, the breaker,—him they call the law-breaker.

For the good—they cannot create; they are always the beginning of the end:—

They crucify him who writeth new values on new tables, they sacrifice unto themselves the future—they crucify the whole human future! 260

This new table, O my brethren, put I up over you: Become hard! 262

Everything goeth, everything returneth; eternally rolleth the wheel of existence. Everything dieth, everything blossometh forth again; eternally runneth on the year of existence.

Everything breaketh, everything is integrated anew; eternally buildeth itself the same house of existence. All things separate, all things again greet one another; eternally true to itself remaineth the ring of existence.

Every moment beginneth existence, around every "Here" rolleth the ball "There." The middle is everywhere. 266

For man his baddest is necessary for his best.

That all that is baddest is the best power, and the hardest stone for the highest creator; and that man must become better and badder:—267

The plexus of causes returneth in which I am intertwined,—it will again create me! I myself pertain to the causes of the eternal return.

I come again with this sun, with this earth, with this eagle, with this serpent—not to a new life, or a better life, or a similar life:

I come again eternally to this identical and selfsame life, in its greatest and its smallest, to teach again the eternal return of all things,—

To speak again the word of the great noontide of earth and man, to announce again to man the Superman. 270-271

"Ye higher men,"—so blinketh the populace—"there are no higher men, we are all equal; man is man, before God—we are all equal!"

Before God!—Now, however, this God hath died. Before the populace, however, we will not be equal. Ye higher men, away from the market-place! 351

Have a good distrust to-day, ye higher men, ye enheartened ones! Ye open-hearted ones! And keep your reasons secret! For this to-day is that of the populace.

What the populace once learned to believe without reasons, who could—refute it to them by means of reasons?

And on the market-place one convinceth with gestures. But reasons make the populace distrustful.

And when truth hath once triumphed there, then ask yourselves with good distrust: "What strong error hath fought for it?" 355

Unlearn, I pray you, this "for," ye creating ones: your very virtue wisheth you to have naught to do with "for" and "on account of" and "because." Against these false little words shall ye stop your ears.

"For one's neighbour," is the virtue only of the petty people: there it is said "like and like" and "hand washeth hand":—they have neither the right nor the power for your self-seeking! 356-357

What hath hitherto been the greatest sin here on earth? Was it not the word of him who said: "Woe unto them that laugh now!"

Did he himself find no cause for laughter on the earth? Then he sought badly. A child even findeth cause for it. 359-360

VI

"The Eternal Recurrence"

He following excerpts from Nietzsche's notes relating to eternal recurrence are set down here merely as supplementary passages to "Thus Spake Zarathustra," in which book this doctrine of the eternally recurring irrationality of all things first made its appearance. Nietzsche's notations on this subject were undoubtedly written in the latter part of 1881, when the idea of Zarathustra first came to him. They were not published, however, until years later, and now form a section of Volume XVI of Nietzsche's complete works in English, along with "The Twilight of the Idols," "The Antichrist" and some explanatory notes on "Thus Spake Zarathustra." This is the only material in Nietzsche's writings which I have not put in chronological order, and my reason for placing these extracts here, and not between "The Dawn of Day" and "The Joyful Wisdom," is due to the fact that after conceiving this doctrine and making notes pertaining to it, Nietzsche put the idea aside and wrote "The Joyful Wisdom" in which this doctrine was not embodied. Not until "Thus Spake Zarathustra" appeared did he make use of this principle of recurrence, and inasmuch as this was the first published statement of it, I have placed that book first and have followed it with these explanatory notes.

Another section of Nietzsche's works also deals with eternal recurrence, namely: the last part of the second volume of "The Will to Power." But here too we find but fragmentary jottings which contain no material not found in the present quotations. It is true that Nietzsche intended to elaborate these notes, but even had he done so I doubt if this doctrine would have assumed a different aspect from the one it at present possesses, or would have become more closely allied with the main structure of his thought; for, even though it is not fully elucidated in its present form, it at least is complete in its conclusions.

In my introduction to the quotations from "Thus Spake Zarathustra" in the preceding chapter will be found a statement relating to this doctrine, in which I have endeavoured to point out just what influence it had on Nietzsche's philosophy, and to offer an explanation for its appearance in his thought.

A reading of the following notes is not at all necessary for an understanding of the Nietzschean ethic, and I have placed these passages here solely for the student to whom every phase of Nietzsche's philosophy is of interest.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE ETERNAL RECURRENCE"

The extent of universal energy is limited; it is not "infinite": we should beware of such excesses in our concepts! Consequently the number of states, changes, combinations, and evolutions of this energy, although it may be enormous and practically incalculable, is at any rate definite and not unlimited. The time, however, in which this universal energy works its changes is infinite—that is to say, energy remains eternally the same and is eternally active:—at this moment an infinity has already elapsed, that is to say, every possible evolution must already have taken place. Consequently the present process of evolution must be a repetition, as was also the one before it, as will also be the one which will follow. And so on forwards and backwards! Inasmuch as the entire state of all forces continually returns, everything has existed an infinite number of times. 237

Energy remains constant and does not require to be infinite. It is eternally active but it is no longer able eternally to create new forms, it must repeat itself: that is my conclusion. 238

The energy of the universe can only have a given number of possible qualities. 238

The assumption that the universe is an organism contradicts the very essence of the organic. 239

We are forced to conclude: (1) either that the universe began its activity at a given moment of time and will end in a similar fashion,—but the beginning of activity is absurd; if a state of equilibrium had been reached it: would have persisted to all eternity; (2) or there is no such thing as an endless number of them which continually recurs: activity is eternal, the number of the products and states of energy is limited. 239

The last physical state of energy which we can imagine must necessarily be the first also. The absorption of energy in latent energy must be the cause of the production of the most vital energy. For a highly positive state must follow a negative state. Space like matter is a subjective form, time is not. The notion of space first arose from the assumption that space could be empty. But there is no such thing as empty space. Everything is energy. 240

Anything like a static state of energy in general is impossible. If stability were possible it would already have been reached. 241

Physics supposes that energy may be divided up: but every one of its possibilities must first be adjusted to reality. There can therefore be no question of dividing energy into equal parts; in every one of its states it manifests a certain quality, and qualities cannot be subdivided: hence a state of equilibrium in energy is impossible. 241

If equilibrium were possible it would already have been reached.—And if this momentary state has already existed then that which bore it and the previous one also would likewise have existed and so on backwards,—and from this it follows that it has already existed not only twice but three times,—just as it will exist again not only twice but three times,—in fact an infinite number of times backwards and forwards. That is to say, the whole process of Becoming consists of a repetition of a definite number of precisely similar states. 242

Imaginic matter, even though in most cases it may once have been organic, can have stored up no experience as it is always without a past! If the reverse were the case a repetition would be impossible—for then matter would for ever be producing new qualities with new pasts. 247

Let us guard against believing that the universe has a tendency to attain to certain forms, or that it aims at becoming more beautiful, more perfect, more complicated! All that is anthropomorphism! 248

Our whole world consists of the ashes of an incalculable number of living creatures: and even if living matter is ever so little compared with the whole, everything has already been transformed into life once before and thus the process goes on. If we grant eternal time we must assume the eternal change of matter. 249

The world of energy suffers no diminution: otherwise with eternal time it would have grown weak and finally have perished altogether. The world of energy suffers no stationary state, otherwise this would already have been reached, and the clock of the universe would be at a standstill. The world of energy does not therefore reach a state of equilibrium; for no instant in its career has it had rest; its energy and its movement have been the same for all time. Whatever state this world could have reached must ere now have been attained, and not only once but an incalculable number of times. 249

My doctrine is: Live so that thou mayest desire to live again,—that is thy duty,—for in any case thou wilt live again! He unto whom striving is the greatest happiness, let him strive; he unto whom peace is the greatest happiness, let him rest; he unto whom subordination, following, obedience, is the greatest happiness, let him obey. 251

The mightiest of all thoughts absorbs a good deal, of energy which formerly stood at the disposal of other aspirations, and in this way it exercises a modifying influence; it creates new laws of motion in energy, though no new energy. 252

Ye fancy that ye will have a long rest ere your second birth takes place,—but do not deceive yourselves! 'Twixt your last moment of consciousness and the first ray of the dawn of your new life no time will elapse,—as a flash of lightning will the space go by, even though living creatures think it is millions of years.... 253

Are ye now prepared? Ye must have experienced every form of scepticism and ye must have wallowed with voluptuousness in ice-cold baths,—otherwise ye have no right to this thought; I wish to protect myself against those who gush over anything! I would defend my doctrine in advance. It must be the religion of the freest, most cheerful and most sublime souls, a delightful pastureland somewhere between golden ice and a pure heaven! 256

VII

"Beyond Good and Evil"

Double purpose animated Nietzsche in his writing of "Beyond Good and Evil" ("Jenseits von Gut und Böse"). It is at once an explanation and an elucidation of "Thus Spake Zarathustra," and a preparatory book for his greatest and most important work, "The Will to Power." In it Nietzsche attempts to define the relative terms of "good" and "evil," and to draw a line of distinction between immorality and unmorality. He saw the inconsistencies evolved in the attempt to harmonise an ancient moral code with the needs of modern life, and recognised the compromises which were constantly being made between moral theory and social practice. His object was to establish a relationship between morality and necessity, and to formulate a workable basis for human conduct. Consequently "Beyond Good and Evil" is one of his most important contributions to a new system of ethics, and touches on many of the deepest principles of his philosophy. As it stands, it is by no means a complete expression of Nietzsche's doctrines, but it is sufficiently profound and suggestive to be of valuable service in an understanding of his later works. The book was begun in the summer of 1885 and finished the following winter. Again there was difficulty with publishers, and finally the book was issued at the author's own expense in the autumn of 1886.

Nietzsche opens "Beyond Good and Evil" with a long chapter headed "Prejudices of Philosophers," in which he outlines the course to be taken by his dialectic. The exposition is accomplished by two methods: first, by an analysis and a refutation of the systems of thinking made use of by antecedent doctrinaires, and secondly, by defining the hypotheses on which his own philosophy is built. This chapter is a most important one, setting forth, as it does, the rationale of his doctrine of the will to power. It has been impossible to make extracts of any unified sequence from this chapter because of its intricate and compact reasoning, and the student would do well to read it in its entirety. It establishes Nietzsche's philosophic position and presents a closely knit explanation of the course pursued in the following chapters. The relativity of all truth—the hypothesis so often assumed in his previous work—Nietzsche here defends by analogy and argument. Using other leading forms of philosophy as a ground for exploration, he questions the absolutism of truth and shows wherein lies the difficulty of a final definition. Here we become conscious of that plasticity of mind which was the dominating quality of his thinking. It is not, however, that form of plasticity which on inspection resolves itself into amorphic and unstable reasoning, but a logical, almost scientific, method of valuing. The mercurial habits of the metaphysicians who deny absolutism are nowhere discernible in Nietzsche's thought. His mind is definite without being static. The basis of his argumentation is what one might call floating. It rises and falls with the human tide of causation; yet the structure built upon it remains at all times upright and unchanged.

Nietzsche points out that the numerous "logical" conclusions of philosophers have been for the most part a priori propositions, the results of prejudices or desires, and that the syllogistic structures reared to them came as explanations and defences, rather than as dialectic preambles. In their adopting a hypothetical truth as a premise, he sees only the advocacy for a point of view, arguing that in order to erect a system of logic the initial thesis must be proved. Therefore he questions the fundamental worth of certainty as opposed to uncertainty, and of truth as opposed to falsity, thus striking at the very foundations reared by those philosophers who have assumed, without substantiation, that only certainty and truth are valuable. Nietzsche calls these absolutists astute defenders of prejudices, and characterises the verbalistic prestidigitation of Kant as a highly developed form of prejudice-defending. Spinoza, with his mathematical system of reasoning, likewise falls in the category of those thinkers who first assume conclusions and then prepare explanations for them by a process of inverted reasoning. Nietzsche proceeds to pose the instinctive functions against conscious thinking. He asserts that the channels taken by thought are defined by the thinker's nature, and that even logic is influenced by physiological considerations. The whole fabric of philosophic thought is held up to the light of immediate necessity.

Going further, he inquires into the "impulse to knowledge." He finds that a specific purpose has always been the actuating force of any philosophy, and that consequently philosophy, even in its most abstract form, has had a residuum of autobiography in it. In fine, that philosophy, far from being a search, has been an aim toward a definite preconceived result. The moral or ethical impulse, being always imperious, has not infrequently resulted in philosophising, and in all such cases knowledge has been used as an instrument. Thus knowledge which led to a philosophical conclusion has been the outgrowth of a personal instinct. In those cases where an impersonal "impulse to knowledge" may have existed, it has led, not into philosophical channels, but into practical and often commercial activities. The scholar has ever remained personal in his quest for philosophical formulas. In Kant's "Table of Categories," wherein that philosopher claimed to have found the faculty of synthetic judgment a priori, Nietzsche finds only a circle of reasoning which begins and ends in personal instinct. And in Kant's discovery of a new moral faculty, Nietzsche sees only sophistical invention, and accounts for its widespread acceptance by the moral state of the Germans at that period. Ignoring the possibility of synthetic judgments a priori, Nietzsche advances the query as to their necessity, and lays stress on the impracticability of truth without belief. The inherent falsity or truth of a proposition has no bearing on philosophical doctrines so long as a contrary belief is present, a belief such as we exert toward the illusions of the world of reality when we make practical use of that world's perspective.

The schemes of personal philosophy, such, for instance, as we find in Schopenhauer, are dealt with by Nietzsche in a single paragraph: "When I analyse the process that is expressed in the sentence, 'I think,' I find a whole series of daring assertions, the argumentative proof of which would be difficult, perhaps impossible: for instance, that it is I who think, that there must necessarily be something that thinks, that thinking is an activity and operation on the part of a being who is thought of as a cause, that there is an 'ego,' and finally, that it is already determined what is to be designated by thinking—that I know what thinking is. For if I had not already decided within myself what it is, by what standard could I determine whether that which is just happening is not perhaps 'willing' or 'feeling'? In short, the assertion 'I think,' assumes that I compare my state at the present moment with other states of myself which I know, in order to determine what it is: on account of this retrospective connection with further 'knowledge,' it has at any rate no immediate certainty for me." Thus the smug materialistic philosopher finds himself necessitated to fall back on purely metaphysical explanations for answers to the questions arising out of his definition of truth.

Locke falls under a critical survey in this chapter. In answer to this thinker's theory regarding the origin of ideas, Nietzsche names the great cycles of philosophical systems and calls attention to the similarity of processes in such cycles. Furthermore, he shows that the foundations of all previous philosophies are discoverable in the new styles of contemporaneous thought. And in those national schools of philosophy conceived in languages which stem from the same origin, he finds an undeniable resemblance. All of which leads to a conclusion incompatible with Locke's theory. Nietzsche attacks the conclusions of the physicists, denying them any place in philosophy because their research consists solely in interpretations of natural laws in accordance with their own prejudices and beliefs. The theories which might be deduced from natural phenomena are not discoverable in their doctrines; their activities have consisted in twisting natural events to suit preconceived valuations.

Finally Nietzsche inquires into the habits and practices of psychologists. Not even among these workers does he find a basis for philosophy. Psychology, he argues, has been guided, not by a detached and lofty desire to ascertain truth in its relation to the human mind, but by prejudices and fears grounded in moral considerations. He finds a constant desire on the part of experimenters to account for "good" impulses as distinguished from "bad" ones. And in this desire lies the superimposing of moral prejudices on a science which, more than all others, deals with problems farthest removed from moral influences. These prejudices in psychology, as well as in all branches of philosophy, are the obstacles which stand in the way of any deep penetration into the motives beneath human conduct. Nietzsche, in his analyses and criticisms, is not solely destructive: he is subterraneously constructing his own philosophical system founded on the will to power. This phrase is used many times in the careful research of the first chapter. As the book proceeds, this doctrine develops.

Nietzsche's best definition of what he calls the "free spirit," namely: the thinking man, the intellectual aristocrat, the philosopher and ruler, is contained in the twenty-six pages of the second chapter of "Beyond Good and Evil." In a series of paragraphs—longer than is Nietzsche's wont—the leading characteristics of this superior man are described. The "free spirit," however, must not be confused with the superman. The former is the "bridge" which the present-day man must cross in the process of surpassing himself. In the delineation and analysis of him, as presented to us here, we can glimpse his most salient mental features. Heretofore, as in "Thus Spake Zarathustra," he has been but partially and provisionally defined. Now his instincts and desires, his habits and activities are outlined. Furthermore, we are given an explanation of his relation to the inferior man and to the organisms of his environment. The chapter is an important one, for at many points it is a subtle elucidation of many of Nietzsche's dominant philosophic principles. By inference, the differences of class distinction are strictly drawn. The slave-morality (sklavmoral) and the master-morality (herrenmoral), though as yet undefined, are balanced against each other; and the deportmental standards of the masters and slaves are defined by way of differentiating between these two opposing human factions. While the serving class is constantly manifesting its need of a guiding dogma, the ruling class is constantly approaching the state wherein the arbitrary moral mandates are denied. Nietzsche sees a new order of philosophers appearing—men who will stand beyond good and evil, who will be not only free spirits, "but something more, higher, greater, and fundamentally different." In describing these men of the future, of which the present free men are the heralds and forerunners, Nietzsche establishes an individualistic ideal which he develops fully in later chapters.

A keen and far-reaching analysis of the various aspects assumed by religious faith constitutes a third section of "Beyond Good and Evil." Though touching upon various influences of Christianity, this section is more general in its religious scope than even "The Antichrist," many indications of which are to be found here. This chapter has to do with the numerous inner experiences of man, which are directly or indirectly attributable to religious doctrines. The origin of the instinct for faith itself is sought, and the results of this faith are balanced against the needs of the individuals and of the race. The relation between religious ecstasy and sensuality; the attempt on the part of religious practitioners to arrive at a negation of the will; the transition from religious gratitude to fear; the psychology at the bottom of saint-worship;—to problems such as these Nietzsche devotes his energies in his inquiry of the religious mood. The geographical considerations which enter into the character and intensity of religious faith form an important basis for study; and the differences between Comte's sociology and Sainte-Beuve's anti-Jesuit utterances are explained from a standpoint of national influences. Nietzsche examines the many phases of atheism and the principal anti-Christian tendencies of all philosophy since Descartes. There is an illuminating exposition of the important stages in religious cruelty and of the motives underlying the various forms of religious sacrifices. Again we run upon the doctrine of eternal recurrence, but here, as elsewhere, it may be regarded, not as a basic element in Nietzsche's philosophical scheme, but as a by-product of his thought. Nietzsche emphasises the necessity of idleness in all religious lives, and shows how the adherence to the religious mood works against the activities, both of mind and of body, which make for the highest efficiency.

A very important phase of Nietzsche's teaching is contained in this criticism of the religious life. The detractors of the Nietzschean doctrine, almost without exception, base their judgments on the assumption that the universal acceptation of his theories would result in social chaos. As I have pointed out before, Nietzsche desired no such general adoption of his beliefs. In his bitterest diatribes against Christianity, his object was not to shake the faith of the great majority of mankind in their idols. He sought merely to free the strong men from the restrictions of a religion which fitted the needs of only the weaker members of society. He neither hoped nor desired to wean the mass of humanity from Christianity or any similar dogmatic comfort. On the contrary, he denounced those superficial atheists who endeavoured to weaken the foundations of religion. He saw the positive necessity of such religions as a basis for his slave morality, and in the present chapter he exhorts the rulers to preserve the religious faith of the serving classes, and to use it as a means of government—as an instrument in the work of disciplining and educating. In paragraph 61 he says: "The selecting and disciplining influence—destructive as well as creative and fashioning—which can be exercised by means of religion is manifold and varied, according to the sort of people placed under its spell and protection." Not only is this an expression of the utilitarian value of religious formulas, but a definite voicing of one of the main factors in his philosophy. His entire system of ethics is built on the complete disseverance of the dominating class and the serving class; and his doctrine of "beyond good and evil" should be considered only as it pertains to the superior man. To apply it to all classes would be to reduce Nietzsche's whole system of ethics to impracticability, and therefore to an absurdity.

Passing from a consideration of the religious mood, Nietzsche enters a broader sphere of ethical research, and endeavours to trace the history and development of morals. He accuses the philosophers of having avoided the real problem of morality, namely: the testing of the faith and motives which lie beneath moral beliefs. This is the task he sets for himself, and in his chapter, "The Natural History of Morals," he makes an examination of moral origins—an examination which is extended into an exhaustive treatise in "The Genealogy of Morals." However, his dissection here is carried out on a broader and far more general scale than in his previous books, such as "Human, All-Too-Human" and "The Dawn of Day." Heretofore he had confined himself to codes and systems, to acts of morality and immorality, to judgments of conducts. In "Beyond Good and Evil" he treats of moral prejudices as forces working hand in hand with human progress. In addition, there is a definite attitude of constructive thinking here which is absent from his earlier work. He outlines the course to be taken by the men of the future, and points to the results which have accrued from the moralities of modern nations. He offers the will to power in place of the older "will to belief," and characterises the foundations of acceptance for all moral codes as "fictions" and "premature hypotheses." He defines the racial ideals which have grown up out of moral influences, and, applying them to the needs of the present day, finds them inadequate and dangerous. The conclusion to which his observations and analyses point is that, unless the rulers of the race take a stand beyond the outposts of good and evil and govern on a basis of expediency divorced from all moral influences, the individual is in constant danger of being lowered to the level of the gregarious conscience.

In the chapter, "We Scholars," Nietzsche continues his definition of the philosopher, whom he holds to be the highest type of man. Besides being a mere description of the intellectual traits of this "free spirit," the chapter is also an exposition of the shortcomings of those modern men who pose as philosophers. In the path of these new thinkers Nietzsche sees many difficulties both from within and from without, and points out methods whereby these obstacles may be overcome. Also the man of science and the man of genius are analyzed and weighed as to their relative importance in the community. In fact, we have here Nietzsche's most concise and complete definition of the individuals upon whom rests the burden of progress. These valuations of the intellectual leaders are important to the student, for by one's understanding them, along with the reasons for such valuations, a comprehension of the ensuing volumes is facilitated. Nietzsche hereby establishes the qualities of those entitled to the master-morality code; and, by thus drawing the line of demarcation in humanity, he defines at the same time that class whose constitutions and predispositions demand the slave-morality. In addition, he affixes, according to his philosophical formula, a scale of values to such mental attributes as objectivity, power to will, scepticism, positivity and constraint.

Important material touching on many of the fundamental points of Nietzsche's philosophy is embodied in the chapter entitled "Our Virtues." The more general inquiries into conduct and the research along the broader lines of ethics are supplanted by inquiries into specific moral attributes. The current virtues are questioned, and their historical significance is determined. The value of such virtues is tested in their relation to different types of men. Sacrifice, sympathy, brotherly love, service, loyalty, altruism and similar ideals of conduct are examined, and the results of such virtues are shown to be incompatible with the demands of modern social intercourse. Nietzsche poses against these virtues the sterner and more rigid forms of conduct, pointing out wherein they meet with the present requirements of human progress. The chapter is a preparation for his establishment of a new morality and also an explanation of the dual ethical code which is one of the main pillars in his philosophical structure. Before presenting his precept of a dual morality, Nietzsche endeavours to determine woman's place in the political and social scheme, and points out the necessity, not only of individual feminine functioning, but of the preservation of a distinct polarity in sexual relationship.

In the final chapter many of Nietzsche's philosophical ideas take definite shape. The doctrine of slave-morality and master-morality, prepared for and partially defined in preceding chapters, is here directly set forth, and those virtues and attitudes which constitute the "nobility" of the master class are specifically defined. Nietzsche designates the duty of his aristocracy, and segregates the human attributes according to the rank of individuals. The Dionysian ideal, which underlies all the books that follow "Beyond Good and Evil," receives its first direct exposition and application. The hardier human traits such as egotism, cruelty, arrogance, retaliation and appropriation are given ascendency over the softer virtues such as sympathy, charity, forgiveness, loyalty and humility, and are pronounced necessary constituents in the moral code of a natural aristocracy. At this point is begun the transvaluation of values which was to have been completed in "The Will to Power." The student should read carefully this chapter, for it is an introduction as well as an explanation for what follows, and was written with that purpose in view.

EXCERPTS FROM "BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL"

To recognise untruth as a condition of life: that is certainly to impugn the traditional ideas of value in a dangerous manner, and a philosophy which ventures to do so, has thereby alone placed itself beyond good and evil. 9

Psychologists should bethink themselves before putting down the instinct of self-preservation as the cardinal instinct of an organic being. A living thing seeks above all to discharge its strength—life itself is Will to Power; self-preservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent results thereof. 20

It is the business of the very few to be independent; it is the privilege of the strong. And whoever attempts it, even with the best right, but without being obliged to do so, proves that he is probably not only strong, but also daring beyond measure. 43

The virtues of the common man would perhaps mean vice and weakness in a philosopher; it might be possible for a highly developed man, supposing him to degenerate and go to ruin, to acquire qualities thereby alone, for the sake of which he would have to be honoured as a saint in the lower world into which he had sunk. 44

Books for the general reader are always ill-smelling books, the odour of paltry people clings to them. Where the populace eat and drink, and even where they reverence, it is accustomed to stink. One should not go into churches if one wishes to breathe pure air. 44

"Will" can naturally only operate on "will"—and not on "matter" (not on "nerves," for instance): in short, the hypothesis must be hazarded, whether will does not operate on will wherever "effects" are recognised—and whether all mechanical action, inasmuch as a power operates therein, is not just the power of will, the effect of will. Granted, finally, that we succeed in explaining our entire instinctive life as the development and ramification of one fundamental form of will—namely, the Will to Power, as my thesis puts it; granted that all organic functions could be traced back to this Will to Power, and that the solution of the problem of generation and nutrition—it is one problem—could also be found therein: one would thus have acquired the right to define all active force unequivocally as Will to Power. The world seen from within, the world defined and designated according to its "intelligible character"—it would simply be "Will to Power," and nothing else. 52

Happiness and virtue are no arguments. It is willingly forgotten, however, even on the part of thoughtful minds, that to make unhappy and to make bad are just as little counter-arguments. A thing could be true, although it were in the highest degree injurious and dangerous; indeed, the fundamental constitution of existence might be such that one succumbed by a full knowledge of it—so that the strength of a mind might be measured by the amount of "truth" it could endure—or to speak more plainly, by the extent to which it required truth attenuated, veiled, sweetened, damped, and falsified. 53-54

Everything that is profound loves the mask; the profoundest things have a hatred even of figure and likeness. Should not the contrary only be the right disguise for the shame of a God to go about in? 54-55

One must renounce the bad taste of wishing to agree with many people. "Good" is no longer good when one's neighbour takes it into his mouth. And how could there be a "common good." The expression contradicts itself; that which can be common is always of small value. In the end things must be as they are and have always been—the great things remain for the great, the abysses for the profound, the delicacies and thrills for the refined, and, to sum up shortly, everything rare for the rare. 57-58

In every country of Europe, and the same in America, there is at present ... a very narrow, prepossessed, enchained class of spirits.... Briefly and regrettably, they belong to the levellers, these wrongly named "free spirits"—as glib-tongued and scribe-fingered slaves of the democratic taste and its "modern ideas"; all of them men without solitude, without personal solitude, blunt honest fellows to whom neither courage nor honourable conduct ought to be denied; only, they are not free, and are ludicrously superficial, especially in their innate partiality for seeing the cause of almost all human misery and failure in the old forms in which society has hitherto existed—a notion which happily inverts the truth entirely. 53-59

We believe that severity, violence, slavery, danger in the street and in the heart, secrecy, stoicism, tempter's art and revelry of every kind,—that everything wicked, terrible, tyrannical, predatory, and serpentine in man, serves as well for the elevation of the human species as its opposite.... 59

The Christian faith from the beginning, is sacrifice: the sacrifice of all freedom, all pride, all self-confidence of spirit; it is at the same time subjection, self-derision, and self-mutilation. 65

The mightiest men have hitherto always bowed reverently before the saint, as the enigma of self-subjugation and utter voluntary privation.—Why did they thus bow? They divined in him—and as it were behind the questionableness of his frail and wretched appearance—the superior force which wished to test itself by such a subjugation; the strength and love of power, and knew how to honour it: they honoured something in themselves when they honoured the saint.... The mighty ones of the world learned to have a new fear before him, they divined a new power, a strange, still unconquered enemy:—it was the "Will to Power" which obliged them to halt before the saint. 70-71

Perhaps the most solemn conceptions that have caused the most fighting and suffering, the conceptions "God" and "sin," will one day seem to us of no more importance than a child's plaything or a child's pain seems to an old man.... 75

To love mankind for God's sake—this has so far been the noblest and remotest sentiment to which mankind has attained. 79

For those who are strong and independent, destined and trained to command, in whom the judgment and skill of a ruling race is incorporated, religion is an additional means for overcoming, betraying and surrendering to the former the conscience of the latter, their inmost heart, which would fain escape obedience. 80

Asceticism and Puritanism are almost indispensable means of educating and ennobling a race which seeks to rise above its hereditary baseness and work itself upward to future supremacy. And finally, to ordinary men, to the majority of the people, who exist for service and general utility, and are only so far entitled to exist, religion gives invaluable contentedness with their lot and condition, peace of heart, ennoblement of obedience, additional social happiness and sympathy, with something of transfiguration and embellishment, something of justification of all the commonplaceness, all the meanness, all the semi-animal poverty of their souls. 81

"Knowledge for its own sake"—that is the last snare laid by morality: we are thereby completely entangled in morals once more. 85

He who attains his ideal, precisely thereby surpasses it. 86

Sympathy for all—would be harshness and tyranny for thee, my good neighbour! 88

To be ashamed of one's immorality is a step on the ladder at the end of which one is ashamed also of one's morality. 89

A discerning one might easily regard himself at present as the animalisation of God. 90

Not their love of humanity, but the impotence of their love, prevents the Christians of to-day—burning us. 91

There is no such thing as moral phenomena, but only a moral interpretation of phenomena. 91

The criminal is often enough not equal to his deed: he extenuates and maligns it. 91

The great epochs of our life are at the points when we gain courage to rebaptise our badness as the best in us. 92

It is a curious thing that God learned Greek when he wished to turn author—and that he did not learn it better. 93

Even concubinage has been corrupted—by marriage. 93

A nation is a detour of nature to arrive at six or seven great men—Yes, and then to get round them. 94

From the senses originate all trustworthiness, all good conscience, all evidence of truth. 95

Our vanity would like what we do best to pass precisely for what is most difficult to us.—Concerning the origin of many systems of morals. 96

When a woman has scholarly inclinations there is generally something wrong with her sexual nature. Barrenness itself conduces to a certain virility of taste; man, indeed, if I may say so, is "the barren animal." 96

That which an age considers evil is usually an unseasonable echo of what was formerly considered good—the atavism of an old ideal. 97

What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil. 98

Objection, evasion, joyous distrust, and love of irony are signs of health; everything absolute belongs to pathology. 98

The Jews—-a people "born for slavery," as Tacitus and the whole ancient world say of them; "the chosen people among the nations," as they themselves say and believe—the Jews performed the miracle of the inversion of valuations, by means of which life on earth obtained a new and dangerous charm for a couple of millenniums. Their prophets fused into one the expressions "rich," "godless," "wicked," "violent," "sensual," and for the first time coined the word "world" as a term of reproach. In this inversion of valuations (in which is also included the use of the word "poor" as synonymous with "saint" and "friend") the significance of the Jewish people is to be found; it is with them that the slave-insurrection in morals commences. 117

The beast of prey and the man of prey (for instance, Cæsar Borgia) are fundamentally misunderstood, "nature" is misunderstood, so long as one seeks a "morbidness" in the constitution of these healthiest of all tropical monsters and growths.... 118

All the systems of morals which address themselves to individuals with a view to their "happiness," as it is called—what else are they but suggestions for behaviour adapted to the degree of danger from themselves in which the individuals live; recipes for their passions, their good and bad propensities in so far as such have the Will to Power and would like to play the master; small and great expediencies and elaborations, permeated with the musty odour of old family medicines and old-wife wisdom; all of them grotesque and absurd in their form—because they address themselves to "all," because they generalise where generalisation is not authorised; all of them speaking unconditionally, and taking themselves unconditionally; all of them flavoured not merely with one grain of salt, but rather endurable only, and sometimes even seductive, when they are over-spiced and begin to smell dangerously, especially of "the other world." 118-119

In view ... of the fact that obedience has been most practised and fostered among mankind hitherto, one may reasonably suppose that, generally speaking, the need thereof is now innate in every one, as a kind of formal conscience. ... 120

The history of the influence of Napoleon is almost the history of the higher happiness to which the entire century has attained in its worthiest individuals and periods. 121

As long as the utility which determines moral estimates is only gregarious utility, as long as the preservation of the community is only kept in view, and the immoral is sought precisely and exclusively in what seems dangerous to the maintenance of the community, there can be no "morality of love to one's neighbour." 123

"Love of our neighbour," is always a secondary matter, partly conventional and arbitrarily manifested in relation to our fear of our neighbour. 123

Everything that elevates the individual above the herd, and is a source of fear to the neighbour, is henceforth called evil; the tolerant, unassuming, self-adapting, self-equalising disposition, the mediocrity of desires, attains to moral distinction and honour. 125

The democratic movement is the inheritance of the Christian movement. 127

We, who regard the democratic movement, not only as a degenerating form of political organisation, but as equivalent to a degenerating, a waning type of man, as involving his mediocrising and depreciation: where have we to fix our hopes? In new philosophers—there is no other alternative: in minds strong and original enough to initiate opposite estimates of value, to transvalue and invert "eternal valuations"; in forerunners, in men of the future, who in the present shall fix the constraints and fasten the knots which will compel millenniums to take new paths. To teach men the future of humanity as his will, as depending on human will, and to make preparation for vast hazardous enterprises and collective attempts in rearing and educating, in order thereby to put an end to the frightful rule of folly and chance which has hitherto gone by the name of "history" (the folly of the "greatest number" is only its last form)—for that purpose a new type of philosophers and commanders will some time or other be needed, at the very idea of which everything that has existed in the way of occult, terrible, and benevolent beings might look pale and dwarfed. 128-129

The universal degeneracy of mankind to the level of the "man of the future"—as idealised by the socialistic fools and shallow-pates—this degeneracy and dwarfing of man to an absolutely gregarious animal (or as they call it, to a man of "free society"), this brutalising of man into a pigmy with equal rights and claims, is undoubtedly possible! He who has thought out this possibility to its ultimate conclusion knows another loathing unknown to the rest of mankind—and perhaps also a new mission!130-131

Supposing ... that in the picture of the philosophers of the future, some trait suggests the question whether they must not perhaps be sceptics in the last-mentioned sense, something in them would only be designated thereby—and not they themselves. With equal right they might call themselves critics; and assuredly they will be men of experiments.... They will be sterner (and perhaps not always towards themselves only) ... they will not deal with the "truth" in order that it may "please" them, or "elevate" and "inspire" them—they will rather have little faith in "truth" bringing with it such revels for the feelings. They will smile, those rigorous spirits, when any one says in their presence: "that thought elevates me, why should it not be true?" or; "that artist enlarges me, why should he not be great?" Perhaps they will not only have a smile, but a genuine disgust for all that is thus rapturous, idealistic, feminine and hermaphroditic; and if any one could look into their inmost heart, he would not easily find therein the intention to reconcile "Christian sentiments" with "antique taste," or even with "modern parliamentarism" (the kind of reconciliation necessarily found even amongst philosophers in our very uncertain and consequently very conciliatory century). Critical discipline, and every habit that conduces to purity and rigour in intellectual matters, will not only be demanded from themselves by these philosophers of the future; they may even make a display thereof as their special adornment—nevertheless they will not want to be called critics on that account. It will seem to them no small indignity to philosophy to have it decreed, as is so welcome nowadays, that "philosophy itself is criticism and critical science—and nothing else whatever!" 149-151

The real philosophers ... are commanders and law-givers; they say: "Thus shall it be." They determine first the Whither and the Why of mankind, and thereby set aside the previous labour of all philosophical workers, and all subjugators of the past—they grasp at the future with a creative hand, and whatever is and was, becomes for them thereby a means, an instrument, and a hammer. Their "knowing" is creating, their creating is a law-giving, their will to truth is—Will to Tower. ... 152

At present ... when throughout Europe the herding animal alone attains to honours, and dispenses honours, when "equality of right" can too readily be transformed into equality in wrong: I mean to say into general war against everything rare, strange, and privileged, against the higher man, the higher soul, the higher duty, the higher responsibility, the creative plenipotence and lordliness—at present it belongs to the conception of "greatness" to be noble, to wish to be apart, to be capable of being different, to stand alone, to have to live by personal initiative; and the philosopher will betray something of his own ideal when he asserts: "He shall be the greatest who can be the most solitary, the most concealed, the most divergent, the man beyond good and evil, the master of his virtues, and of superabundance of will; precisely this shall be called greatness: as diversified as can be entire, as ample as can be full." 154-155

Morality as attitude is opposed to our taste nowadays. This is also an advance, as it was an advance in our fathers that religion as an attitude finally became opposed to their taste.... 161

The practice of judging and condemning morally is the favourite revenge of the intellectually shallow on those who are less so.... 162

Whoever has really offered sacrifice knows that he wanted and obtained something for it—perhaps something from himself for something from himself; that he relinquished here in order to have more there, perhaps in general to be more, or even feel himself "more." 164

Wherever sympathy (fellow-suffering) is preached nowadays ... let the psychologist have his ears open: through all the vanity, through all the noise which is natural to these preachers (as to all preachers), he will hear a hoarse, groaning, genuine note of self-contempt. 165

We are prepared as no other age has ever been for a carnival in the grand style, for the most spiritual festival-laughter and arrogance, for the transcendental height of supreme folly and Aristophanic ridicule of the world. Perhaps we are still discovering the domain of our invention just here, the domain where even we can still be original, probably as parodists of the world's history and as God's Merry-Andrews,—perhaps, though nothing else of the present have a future, our laughter itself may have a future! 168

The discipline of suffering, of great suffering—know ye not that it is only this discipline that has produced all the elevations of humanity hitherto? 171

It is desirable that as few people as possible should reflect upon morals, and consequently it is very desirable that morals should not some day become interesting! 174

Not one of those ponderous, conscience-stricken herding-animals (who undertake to advocate the cause of egoism as conducive to the general welfare) wants to have any knowledge or inkling of the facts that the "general welfare" is no ideal, no goal, no notion that can be at all grasped, but is only a nostrum,—that what is fair to one may not at all be fair to another, that the requirement of one morality for all is really a detriment to higher men, in short, that there is a distinction of rank between man and man, and consequently between morality and morality. 175

That which constitutes the painful delight of tragedy is cruelty; that which operates agreeably in so-called tragic sympathy, and at the basis even of everything sublime, up to the highest and most delicate thrills of metaphysics, obtains its sweetness solely from the intermingled ingredient of cruelty. 177

Enlightenment hitherto has fortunately been men's affair, men's gift—we remained therewith "among ourselves"; and in the end, in view of all that women write about "woman," we may well have considerable doubt as to whether woman really desires enlightenment about herself—and can desire it. If woman does not thereby seek a new ornament for herself—I believe ornamentation belongs to the eternally feminine?—why, then, she wishes to make herself feared; perhaps she thereby wishes to get the mastery. But she does not want truth—what does woman care for truth. From the very first nothing is more foreign, more repugnant, or more hostile to woman than truth—her great art is falsehood, her chief concern is appearance and beauty. 183

It betrays corruption of the instincts—apart from the fact that it betrays bad taste—when a woman refers to Madame Roland, or Madame de Staël, or Monsieur George Sand, as though something were proved thereby in favour of "woman as she is." Among men, these are the three comical women as they are—nothing more—and just the best involuntary counter-arguments against feminine emancipation and autonomy. 184

Stupidity in the kitchen; woman as cook; the terrible thoughtlessness with which the feeding of the family and the master of the house is managed. Woman does not understand what food means, and she insists on being cook. If woman had been a thinking creature, she should certainly, as cook for thousands of years, have discovered the most important physiological facts, and should likewise have got possession of the healing art. Through bad female cooks—through the entire lack of reason in the kitchen—the development of mankind has been longest retarded and most interfered with, 184-185

To be mistaken in the fundamental problem of "man and woman," to deny here the profoundest antagonism and the necessity for an eternally hostile tension, to dream here perhaps of equal rights, equal training, equal claims and obligations: that is a typical sign of shallow-mindedness; and a thinker who has proved himself shallow at this dangerous spot—shallow in instinct—may generally be regarded as suspicious, nay more, as betrayed, as discovered: he will probably prove too "short" for all fundamental questions of life, future as well as present, and will be unable to descend into any of the depths. On the other hand, a man who has depth of spirit as well as of desires, and has also the depth of benevolence which is capable of severity and harshness, and easily confounded with them, can only think of woman as Orientals do: he must conceive of her as a possession, as confinable property, as a being predestined for service and accomplishing her mission therein.... 186-187

The weaker sex has in no previous age been treated with so much respect by men as at present—this belongs to the tendency and fundamental taste of democracy, in the same way as disrespectfulness to old age—what wonder is it that abuse should be immediately made of this respect? They want more, they learn to make claims, the tribute of respect is at last felt to be well-nigh galling.... 187

Wherever the industrial spirit has triumphed over the military and aristocratic spirit, woman strives for the economic and legal independence of a clerk: "woman as clerkess" is inscribed on the portal of the modern society which is in course of formation. While she thus appropriates new rights, aspires to be "master," and inscribes "progress" of woman on her flags and banners, the very opposite realises itself with terrible obviousness: woman retrogrades. Since the French Revolution the influence of woman in Europe has declined in proportion as she has increased her rights and claims; and the "emancipation of woman," in so far as it is desired and demanded by women themselves (and not only by masculine shallow-pates), thus proves to be a remarkable symptom of the increased weakening and deadening of the most womanly instincts. There is stupidity in this movement, an almost masculine stupidity, of which a well-reared woman—who is always a sensible woman—might be heartily ashamed. 187-188

Every elevation of the type "man," has hitherto been the work of an aristocratic society—and so will it always be—a society believing in a long scale of gradations of rank and differences of worth among human beings, and requiring slavery in some form or other. 223

The essential thing ... in a good and healthy aristocracy is that it should not regard itself as a function either of the kingship or the commonwealth, but as the significance and highest justification thereof—that it should therefore accept with a good conscience the sacrifice of a legion of individuals, who, for its sake, must be suppressed and reduced to imperfect men, to slaves and instruments. Its fundamental belief must be precisely that society is not allowed to exist for its own sake, but only as a foundation and scaffolding, by means of which a select class of beings may be able to elevate themselves to their higher duties, and in general to a higher existence. ... 225

Life itself is essentially appropriation, injury, conquest of the strange and weak, suppression, severity, obtrusion of peculiar forms, incorporation, and at the least, putting it mildest, exploitation.... 226

People now rave everywhere, even under the guise of science, about coming conditions of society in which "the exploiting character" is to be absent:—that sounds to my ears as if they promised to invent a mode of life which should refrain from all organic functions. "Exploitation" does not belong to a depraved, or imperfect and primitive society; it belongs to the nature of the living being as a primary organic function; it is a consequence of the intrinsic Will to Power, which is precisely the Will to Life. 226

In a tour through the many finer and coarser moralities which have hitherto prevailed or still prevail on the earth, I found certain traits recurring regularly together and connected with one another, until finally two primary types revealed themselves to me, and a radical distinction was brought to light. There is master-morality and slave-morality;—I would at once add, however, that in all higher and mixed civilisations, there are also attempts at the reconciliation of the two moralities; but one finds still oftener the confusion and mutual misunderstanding of them, indeed, sometimes their close juxtaposition—even in the same man, within one soul. 227

The noble type of man regards himself as a determiner of values; he does not require to be approved of; he passes the judgment: "What is injurious to me is injurious in itself"; he knows that it is he himself only who confers honour on things; he is a creator of values. He honours whatever he recognises in himself: such morality is self-glorification. In the foreground there is the feeling of plenitude, of power, which seeks to overflow, the happiness of high tension, the conscientiousness of a wealth which would fain give and bestow:—the noble man also helps the unfortunate, but not—or scarcely—out of pity, but rather from an impulse generated by the superabundance of power. The noble man honours in himself the powerful one, him also who has power over himself, who knows how to speak and how to keep silence, who takes pleasure in subjecting himself to severity and hardness, and has reverence for all that is severe and hard. 229

A morality of the ruling class ... is ... especially foreign and irritating to present-day taste in the sternness of its principle that one has duties only to one's equals; that one may act towards beings of a lower rank, towards all that is foreign, just as seems good to one, or "as the heart desires," and in any case "beyond good and evil": it is here that sympathy and similar sentiments can have a place. The ability and obligation to exercise prolonged gratitude and prolonged revenge—both only within the circle of equals,—artfulness in retaliation, raffinement of the idea in friendship, a certain necessity to have enemies as outlets for the emotions of envy, quarrelsomeness, arrogance—in fact, in order to be a good friend: all these are typical characteristics of the noble morality. 229-230

Slave-morality is essentially the morality of utility. Here is the seat of the origin of the famous antithesis "good" and "evil":—power and dangerousness are assumed to reside in the evil, a certain dreadfulness, subtlety, and strength, which do not admit of being despised. According to slave-morality, therefore, the "evil" man arouses fear; according to master-morality, it is precisely the "good" man who arouses fear and seeks to arouse it, while the bad man is regarded as the despicable being. The contrast attains its maximum when, in accordance with the logical consequences of slave-morality, a shade of depreciation—it may be slight and well-intentioned—at last attaches itself even to the "good" man of this morality; because, according to the servile mode of thought, the good man must in any case be the safe man: he is good-natured, easily deceived, perhaps a little stupid, un bonhomme. Everywhere that slave-morality gains the ascendency, language shows a tendency to approximate the significations of the words "good" and "stupid."—A last fundamental difference: the desire for freedom, the instinct for happiness and the refinements of the feeling of liberty belong as necessarily to slave-morals and morality, as artifice and enthusiasm in reverence and devotion are the regular symptoms of an aristocratic mode of thinking and estimating. 231

A species originates, and a type becomes established and strong in the long struggle with essentially constant unfavourable conditions. On the other hand, it is known by the experience of breeders that species which receive superabundant nourishment, and in general a surplus of protection and care, immediately tend in the most marked way to develop variations, and are fertile in prodigies and monstrosities (also in monstrous vices). 234

I submit that egoism belongs to the essence of a noble soul, I mean the unalterable belief that to a being such as "we," other beings must naturally be in subjection, and have to sacrifice themselves. 240

Woman would like to believe that love can do everything—it is the superstition peculiar to her. Alas, he who knows the heart finds out how poor, helpless, pretentious, and blundering even the best and deepest love is—he finds that it rather destroys than saves! 246

Signs of nobility: never to think of lowering our duties to the rank of duties for everybody; to be unwilling to renounce or to share our responsibilities; to count our prerogatives, and the exercise of them, among our duties. 249

A man strives after great things, looks upon every one whom he encounters on his way either as a means of advance, or a delay and hindrance—or as a temporary resting-place. 249

If one wishes to praise at all, it is a delicate and at the same time a noble self-control, to praise only where one does not agree.... 254

All society makes one somehow, somewhere, or sometimes—"commonplace." 254-255

The noble soul has reverence for itself. 256

A man who can conduct a case, carry out a resolution, remain true to an opinion, keep hold of a woman, punish and overthrow insolence; a man who has his indignation and his sword, and to whom the weak, the suffering, the oppressed, and even the animals willingly submit and naturally belong; in short, a man who is a master by nature—when such a man has sympathy, well, that sympathy has value! 259

I would even allow myself to rank philosophers according to the quality of their laughing—up to those who are capable of golden laughter. 260

VIII

"The Genealogy of Morals"

("Zur Genealogie der Moral") was written by Nietzsche primarily as an elaboration and elucidation of the philosophic points which were merely sketched in "Beyond Good and Evil." This former work had met with small success, and the critics, failing to understand its doctrines, read converse meanings in it. One critic hailed Nietzsche at once as an anarchist, and this review went far in actuating him in drawing up the three essays which comprise the present book. As will be remembered, several of Nietzsche's most important principles were stated and outlined in "Beyond Good and Evil," especially his doctrine of slave-morality and master-morality. Now he undertakes to develop this proposition, as well as many others which he set forth provisionally in his earlier work. This new polemic may be looked upon both as a completing of former works and as a further preparation for "The Will to Power." The book, a comparatively brief one (it contains barely 40,000 words), was written in a period of about two weeks during the early part of 1887. In July the manuscript was sent to the publisher, but was recalled for revisions and addenda; and most of Nietzsche's summer was devoted to correcting it. Later that same year the book appeared; and thereby its author acquired another friendly reader, Georg Brandes, to whom, more than to any other critic, Nietzsche owes his early recognition.

The style of "The Genealogy of Morals" is less aphoristic than any of the books which immediately preceded or followed it. Few new doctrines are propounded in it; and since it was for the most part an analytic commentary on what had gone before, its expositional needs were best met by Nietzsche's earlier style of writing. I have spoken before of the desultory and sporadic manner in which Nietzsche was necessitated to present his philosophy. Nowhere is his method of work better exemplified than in this new work. Nearly every one of his books overlaps another. Propositions are sketchily stated in one essay, which receive elucidation only in future volumes. "Beyond Good and Evil" was a commentary on "Thus Spake Zarathustra"; "The Genealogy of Morals" is a commentary on the newly propounded theses in "Beyond Good and Evil" and is in addition an elaboration of many of the ideas which took birth as far back as "Human, All-Too-Human." Out of "The Genealogy of Morals" in turn grew "The Antichrist" which dealt specifically with the theological phase of the former's discussion of general morals. And all of these books were but preparations for "The Will to Power." For this reason it is difficult to acquire a complete understanding of Nietzsche's philosophy unless one follows it consecutively and chronologically. The book at present under discussion is a most valuable one from an academic standpoint, for, while it may not set forth any new and important doctrines, it goes deep into the origins and history of moral concepts, and explains many of the important conclusions in Nietzsche's moral code. It brings more and more into prominence the main pillars of his ethical system and explains at length the steps in the syllogism which led to his doctrine of master-morality. It ascertains the origin of the concept of sin, and describes the racial deterioration which has followed in the train of Christian ideals.

In many ways this book is the profoundest of all the writings Nietzsche left us. For the first time he separates theological and moral prejudices and traces them to different origins. This is one of the most important steps taken by him. By so doing he became an explorer of entirely new fields. The moral historians and psychologists who preceded him had considered moral precepts and Christian injunctions as stemming from the same source: their genealogies had led them to the same common spring. Nietzsche entered the search with new methods. He applied the philologie test to all moral values. He brought to his task, in addition to a historical sense, what he calls "an innate faculty of psychological discrimination par excellence." He posed the following questions, and endeavoured to answer them by inquiring into the minutest aspects of historical conditions: "Under what conditions did Man invent for himself those judgments of value, 'good' and 'evil'? And what intrinsic value do they possess in themselves? Have they up to the present hindered or advanced human well-being"? Are they a symptom of the distress, impoverishment, and degeneration of Human Life? Or, conversely, is it in them that is manifested the fulness, the strength, and the will of Life, its courage, its self-confidence, its future?" In his research, Nietzsche first questioned the value of pity. He found it to be a symptom of modern civilisation—a quality held in contempt by the older philosophers, even by such widely dissimilar minds as Plato, Spinoza, La Rochefoucauld and Kant—but a quality given high place by the more modern thinkers. Despite the seemingly apparent isolation of the problem of pity-morality, Nietzsche saw that in truth it was a question which underlay all other moral propositions; and, using it as a ground-work for his research, he began to question the utility of all those values held as "good," to apply the qualities of the "good man" to the needs of civilisation, and to inquire into the results left upon the race by the "bad man."

So great was the misunderstanding which attached to his phrase, "beyond good and evil," and so persistently was this phrase interpreted in its narrow sense of "beyond good and bad," that he felt the necessity of drawing the line of distinction between these two diametrically opposed conceptions and of explaining the origin of each. His first essay in "The Genealogy of Morals" is devoted to this task. At the outset he devotes considerable space criticising the methods and conclusions of former genealogists of morals, especially of the English psychologists who attribute an intrinsic merit to altruism because at one time altruism possessed a utilitarian value. Herbert Spencer's theory that "good" is the same as "purposive" brings from Nietzsche a protest founded on the contention that because a thing was at one time useful, and therefore "good," it does not follow that the thing is good in itself. By the etymology of the descriptive words of morality, Nietzsche traces the history of modern moral attributes through class distinctions to their origin in the instincts of the "nobles" and the "vulgarians." He shows the relationship between the Latin bonus and the "warrior," by deriving bonus from duonus. Bellum, he shows, equals duellum which equals duen-lum, in which word duonus is contained. Likewise, he points out the aristocratic origin of "happiness"—a quality arising from an abundance of energy and the consciousness of power.

"Good and evil," according to Nietzsche, is a sign of slave-morality; while "good and bad" represents the qualities in the master-morality. The one stands for the adopted qualities of the subservient races; the other embodies the natural functioning of dominating races. The origin of the "good" in these two instances is by no means the same. In the strong man "good" represented an entirely different condition than the "good" in the resentful and weak man; and these two "goods" arose out of different causes. The one was spontaneous and natural—inherent in the individual of strength: the other was a manufactured condition, an optional selection of qualities to soften and ameliorate the conditions of existence. "Evil" and "bad," by the same token, became attributes originating in widely separated sources. The "evil" of the weak man was any condition which worked against the manufactured ideals of goodness, which brought about unhappiness—it was the beginning of the conception of a slave-morality, a term applied to all enemies. The "bad" of the strong man was the concept which grew directly out of his feeling for "good," and which had no application to another individual. Thus the ideas of "good" and "bad" are directly inherited from the nobles of the race, and these ideas included within themselves the tendency toward establishing social distinctions.

The second section of "The Genealogy of Morals," called "'Guilt,' 'Bad Conscience,' and the Like," is another important document, the reading of which is almost imperative for the student who would understand the processes of thought which led to Nietzsche's philosophic conclusions. In this essay Nietzsche traces the origin of sin to debt, thereby disagreeing with all the genealogists of morals who preceded him. He starts with the birth of memory in man and with the corresponding will to forgetfulness, showing that out of these two mental qualities was born responsibility. Out of responsibility in turn grew the function of promising and the accepting of promises, which at once made possible between individuals the relationship of "debtor" and "creditor." As soon as this relationship was established, one man had rights over another. The creditor could exact payment from the debtor, either in the form of material equivalent or by inflicting an injury in which was contained the sensation of satisfaction. Thus the creditor had the right to punish in cases where actual repayment was impossible. And in this idea of punishment began not only class distinction but primitive law. Later, when the power to punish was transferred into the hands of the community, the law of contract came into existence. Here, says Nietzsche, we find the cradle of the whole moral world of the ideas of "guilt," "conscience," and "duty"; and adds, "Their commencement, like the commencement of all great things in the world, is thoroughly and continuously saturated in blood."

Carrying out the principle underlying the relationship of debtor and creditor we arrive at the formation of the community. In return for protection and for communal advantages the individual pledged his good behaviour. When he violated this contract with the community, the community, in the guise of the defrauded creditor, took its revenge, or exacted its payment, from the debtor, the criminal. And, as was the case in early history, the community deprived the violator of future advantages and protection. The debtor was divested of all rights, even of mercy, for then there were no degrees in law-breaking. Primitive law was martial law. Says Nietzsche, "This shows why war itself (counting the sacrificial cult of war) has produced all the forms under which punishment has manifested itself in history." Later, as the community gathered strength, the offences of the individual debtors were looked upon as less serious. Out of its security grew leniency toward the offender: the penal code became mitigated, and, as in all powerful nations to-day, the criminal was protected. Only when there was a consciousness of weakness in a community did the acts of individual offenders take on an exaggerated seriousness, and under such conditions the law was consequently harshest. Thus, justice and the infliction of legal penalties are direct outgrowths of the primitive relation of debt between individuals. Herein we have the origin of guilt.

Nietzsche attempts an elaborate analysis of the history of punishment, in an effort to ascertain its true meaning, its relation to guilt and to the community, and its final effects on both the individual and society. It has been impossible to present the sequence of this analysis by direct excerpts from his own words, due to the close, synthetic manner in which he has made his research. Therefore I offer the following brief exposition of pages 88 to 99 inclusive, in which he examines the causes and effects of punishment. To begin with, Nietzsche disassociates the "origin" and the "end" of punishment, and regards them as two separate and distinct problems. He argues that the final utility of a thing, in the sense that revenge and deterrence are the final utilities of punishment, is in all cases opposed to the origin of that thing; that every force or principle is constantly being put to new purposes by forces greater than itself, thus making it impossible to determine its inception by the end for which it is used. Therefore the "function" of punishing was not conceived with a view to punishing, but may have been employed for any number of ends, according as a will to power has overcome that function and made use of it for its own purpose: in short; punishment, like any organ or custom or "thing," has passed through a series of new interpretations and adjustments and meanings—and is not a direct and logical progress as to an end.

Having established this point, Nietzsche endeavours to determine the utilisation to which the custom of punishment has been put—to ascertain the meaning which has been interpreted into it. He finds that even in modern times not one but many uses have been made of punishment, and that in ancient times so diverse have been the utilisations of punishment that it is impossible to define them all. In fact, one cannot determine the precise reason for punishment. To emphasise this point, Nietzsche gives a long list of possible meanings. Taking up the more popular supposed utilities of punishment at the present time—such as creating in the wrong-doer the consciousness of guilt, which is supposed to evolve into conscience and remorse—he shows wherein punishment fails in its object. Against this theory of the creation of remorse, he advances psychology and shows that, to the contrary, punishment numbs and hardens. He argues also that punishment for the purpose of making the wrong-doer conscious of the intrinsic reprehensibility of his crime, fails because the very act for which he is chastened is practised in the service of justice and is called "good." Eliminating thus the supposed effects of punishment, Nietzsche arrives at the conclusion (included in the excerpts at the end of this chapter) that punishment makes only for caution and secrecy, and is therefore detrimental.

In his analysis of the origin of the "bad conscience," Nietzsche lends himself to quotation. Therefore I have been able to present in his own words a fair resume of the course pursued by him in his examination of the history of conscience. This particular branch of his research is carried into the formation of the "State" which, according to him, grew out of "a herd of blonde beasts." The older theory of the state, namely: that it originated in the adoption of a contract, is set aside as untenable when dealing with a peoples who possessed conquerors or masters. These masters, argues Nietzsche, had no need of contracts. By using the "bad conscience" as a ground for inquiry, the causes for the existence of altruism are shown to be included in the self-cruelty which followed in the wake of the instinct for freedom. (This last point is developed fully in the discussion of ascetic ideals which is found at the end of the book now under consideration.) Nietzsche traces the birth of deities back along the lines of credit and debt. First came the fear of ancestors. Then followed the obligation to ancestors. At length the sacrifice to ancestors marked the beginning of a conception of duty (debt) to the supernatural. The ancestors of powerful nations in time became heroes, and finally evolved into gods. Later monotheism came as a natural consequence, and God became the creditor. In the expiation of sin, as symbolised in the crucifixion of Christianity, we have this same relationship of debtor and creditor carried out into a more complex form through the avenues of self-torture.

The most important essay in "The Genealogy of Morals" is the last, called "What is the Meaning of Ascetic Ideals?" Nietzsche examines this question in relation to the artist, to the philosopher, to the priest, and to the race generally. In his examination of the problem in regard to artists he uses Wagner as a basis of inquiry, comparing the two phases of Wagner's art—the Parsifalian and the ante-Parsifalian. Artists, asserts Nietzsche, need a support of constituted authority; they are unable to stand alone—"standing alone is opposed to their deepest instincts"—and so they make use of asceticism as a rampart, as building material, to give their work authority. In his application of the ascetic ideal to philosophers, Nietzsche presents the cases of Schopenhauer and Kant, and concludes that asceticism in such instances is used as an escape from torture—a means to recreation and happiness. With the philosopher the ideal of asceticism is not a denial of existence. Rather is it an affirmation of existence. It permits him freedom of the intellect. It relieves him of the numerous obligations of life. Furthermore, the philosophic spirit, in order to establish itself, found it necessary to disguise itself as "one of the previously fixed types of the contemplative man," as a priest or soothsayer. Only in such a religious masquerade was philosophy taken with any seriousness or reverence.

The history of asceticism in the priest I have been able to set forth with a certain degree of completeness in Nietzsche's own words. The priest was the sick physician who administered to the needs of a sick populace. His was the mission of mitigating suffering and of performing every kind of consolation. Wherein he failed, says Nietzsche, was in not going to the source, the cause, of suffering, but in dealing merely with its manifestations. These manifestations were the result of physiological depressions which prevailed at intervals among portions of the population. These depressions were the outgrowth of diverse causes, such as long wars, emigration to unsuitable climates, wrong diet, miscegenation on a large scale, disease, etc. According to Nietzsche the cure for such physiological phenomena can be found only in the realm of moral psychology, for here the origin is considered and administered to by disciplinary systems grounded in true knowledge. But the method employed by the priest was far from scientific. He combated these depressions by reducing the consciousness of life itself to the lowest possible degree—that is, by a doctrine of asceticism, of self-abnegation, equanimity, self-hypnotism. By thus minimising the consciousness of life, these depressions took on more and more the aspect of normality. The effects of this treatment, however, were transient, for the starving of the physical desires and the abstinence from exercising the physical impulses paved the way for all manner of mental disorders, excesses and insanity. Herein lies Nietzsche's explanation for religious ecstasies, hallucinations, and sensual outbursts.

Another form of treatment devised by the ascetic priests for a depressed people gave birth to the "blessedness" which, under the Christian code, attaches to work. These priests attempted to turn the attention of the people from their suffering by the establishment of mechanical activity, namely: work, routine and obedience. The sick man forgot himself in the labour which had received sanctification. The priests also combated depression by permitting pleasure through the creation and production of joy. That is, they set men to helping and comforting each other, by instilling in them the notion of brotherly love. Thereby the community mutually strengthened itself, and at the same time it reaped the joy of service which had been sanctioned by the priests. Out of this last method sprang many of the Christian virtues, especially those which benefit others rather than oneself.

Such methods as these—devitalisation, labour, brotherly love—are called by Nietzsche the "innocent" prescriptions in the fight against depression. The "guilty" ones are far different, and are embodied in the one method: the production of emotional excess. This, the priests understood, was the most efficacious manner in overcoming protracted depression and pain. Confronted by the query: By what means can this emotional excess be produced? they made use of "the whole pack of hounds that rage in the human kennel"—rage, fear, lust, revenge, hope, despair, cruelty and the like. And once these emotional excesses became established, the priests, when asked by the "patients" for a "cause" of their suffering, declared it to be within the man himself, in his own guiltiness. Thus was the sick man turned into a sinner. Here originated also the conception of suffering as a state of punishment, the fear of retribution, the iniquitous conscience, and the hope of redemption. Nietzsche goes further, and shows the racial and individual decadence which has followed in the train of this system of treatment. Dr. Oscar Levy says with justice that this last essay, considered in the light which it throws upon the attitude of the ecclesiast to the man of resentment and misfortune, "is one of the most valuable contributions to sacerdotal psychology."

EXCERPTS FROM "THE GENEALOGY OF MORALS"

The pathos of nobility and distance.... the chronic and despotic esprit de corps and fundamental instinct of a higher dominant race coming into association with a meaner race, an "under race," this is the origin of the antitheses of good and bad. 20

The knightly-aristocratic "values" are based on a careful cult of the physical, on a flowering, rich, and even effervescing healthiness, that goes considerably beyond what is necessary for maintaining life, on war, adventure, the chase, the dance, the tourney—on everything, in fact, which is contained in strong, free, and joyous action. The priestly aristocratic mode of valuation is—we have seen—based on other hypotheses: it is bad enough for this class when it is a question of war! Yet the priests are, as is notorious, the worst enemies—why? Because they are the weakest. 29

The slave-morality requires as the condition of its existence an external and objective world, to employ physiological terminology, it requires objective stimuli to be of action at all—its action is fundamentally a reaction. The contrary is the case when we come to the aristocrat's system of values: it acts and grows spontaneously, it merely seeks its antithesis in order to pronounce a more grateful and exultant "yes" to its own self.... 35

The aristocratic man conceives the root idea "good" spontaneously and straight away, that is to say, out of himself, and from that material then creates for himself a concept of "bad"! This "bad" of aristocratic origin and that "evil" out of the cauldron of unsatisfied hatred—the former an imitation, an "extra," an additional nuance; the latter, on the other hand, the original, the beginning, the essential act in the conception of a slave-morality—these two words "bad" and "evil," how great a difference do they mark in spite of the fact that they have an identical contrary in the idea "good." 39

It is impossible not to recognise at the core of all these aristocratic races the beast of prey; the magnificent blonde brute, avidly rampant for spoil and victory; this hidden core needed an outlet from time to time, the beast must get loose again, must return into the wilderness—the Roman, Arabic, German, and Japanese nobility, the Homeric heroes, the Scandinavian Vikings, are all alike in this need. It is the aristocratic races who have left the idea "Barbarian" on all the tracks in which they have marched; nay, a consciousness of this very barbarianism, and even a pride in it, manifests itself even in their highest civilisation. 40

What produces to-day our repulsion towards "man"?—for we suffer from "man," there is no doubt about it. It is not fear; it is rather that we have nothing more to fear from men; it is that the worm "man" is in the foreground and pullulates; it is that the "tame man," the wretched mediocre and unedifying creature, has learnt to consider himself a goal and a pinnacle, an inner meaning, an historic principle, a "higher man.".... 42-43

In the dwarfing and levelling of the European man lurks our greatest peril, for it is this outlook which fatigues—we see to-day nothing which wishes to be greater, we surmise that the process is always still backwards, still backwards towards something more attenuated, more inoffensive, more cunning, more comfortable, more mediocre, more indifferent, more Chinese, more Christian. 44

To require of strength that it should not express itself as strength, that it should not be a wish to overpower, a wish to overthrow, a wish to become master, a thirst for enemies and antagonisms and triumphs, is just as absurd as to require of weakness that it should express itself as strength. A quantum of force is just such a quantum of movement, will, action. 45

The impotence which requites not, is turned to "goodness," craven baseness to meekness, submission to those whom one hates, to obedience (namely, obedience to one of whom they say that he ordered this submission—they call him God). The inoffensive character of the weak, the very cowardice in which he is rich, his standing at the door, his forced necessity of waiting, gain here fine names, such as "patience," which is also called "virtue"; not being able to avenge one's self, is called not wishing to avenge one's self, perhaps even forgiveness. 48

They are miserable, there is no doubt about it, all these whisperers and counterfeiters in the corners, although they try to get warm by crouching close to each other, but they tell me that their misery is a favour and distinction given to them by God, just as one beats the dogs one likes best; that perhaps this misery is also a preparation, a probation, a training; that perhaps it is still more something which will one day be compensated and paid back with a tremendous interest in gold, nay in happiness. This they call "Blessedness." 45-49

The two opposing values "good and bad," "good and evil," have fought a dreadful, thousand-year fight in the world, and though indubitably the second value has been for a long time in the preponderance, there are not wanting places where the fortune of the fight is still undecisive. It can almost be said that in the meanwhile the fight reaches a higher and higher level, and that in the meanwhile it has become more and more intense, and always more and more psychological; so that nowadays there is perhaps no more decisive mark of the higher nature, of the more psychological nature, than to be in that sense self-contradictory, and to be actually still a battle-ground for those two opposites. The symbol of this fight, written in a writing which has remained worthy of perusal throughout the course of history up to the present time, is called "Rome against Judæa, Judæa against Rome." Hitherto there has been no greater event than that fight, the putting of that question, that deadly antagonism. Rome found in the Jew the incarnation of the unnatural, as though it were its diametrically opposed monstrosity, and in Rome the Jew was held to be convicted of hatred of the whole human race: and rightly so, in so far as it is right to link the well-being and the future of the human race to the unconditional mastery of the aristocratic values, of the Roman values. What, conversely, did the Jews feel against Rome? One can surmise it from a thousand symptoms, but it is sufficient to carry one's mind back to the Johannian Apocalypse, that most obscene of all the written outbursts, which has revenge on its conscience. 53-54

Beyond Good and Evil—at any rate that is not the same as "Beyond Good and Bad." 57

The proud knowledge of the extraordinary privilege of responsibility, the consciousness of this rare freedom, of this power over himself and over fate, has sunk right down to his innermost depths, and has become an instinct, a dominating instinct—what name will he give to it, to this dominating instinct if he needs to have a word for it? But there is no doubt about it—the sovereign man calls it his conscience. 65

Have these current genealogists of morals ever allowed themselves to have even the vaguest notion, for instance, that the cardinal moral idea of "ought" originates from the very material idea of "owe"? Or that punishment developed as a retaliation absolutely independently of any preliminary hypothesis of the freedom or determination of the will?—And this to such an extent, that a high degree of civilisation was always first necessary for the animal man to begin to make those much more primitive distinctions of "intentional," "negligent," "accidental," "responsible," and their contraries, and apply them in the assessing of punishment. That idea—"the wrong-doer deserves punishment because he might have acted otherwise," in spite of the fact that it is nowadays so cheap, obvious, natural, and inevitable, and that it has had to serve as an illustration of the way in which the sentiment of justice appeared on earth is in point of fact an exceedingly late, and even refined form of human judgment and inference; the placing of this idea back at the beginning of the world is simply a clumsy violation of the principles of primitive psychology. 69

The sight of suffering does one good, the infliction of suffering does one more good—this is a hard maxim, but none the less a fundamental maxim, old, powerful, and "human, all-too-human"; one, moreover, to which perhaps even the apes as well would subscribe: for it is said that in inventing bizarre cruelties they are giving abundant proof of their future humanity, to which, as it were, they are playing the prelude. Without cruelty, no feast: so teaches the oldest and longest history of man—and in punishment too is there so much of the festive. 75

The darkening of the heavens over man has always increased in proportion to the growth of man's shame before man. The tired pessimistic outlook, the mistrust of the riddle of life, the icy negation of disgusted ennui, all those are not the signs of the most evil age of the human race: much rather do they come first to the light of day, as the swamp-flowers, which they are, when the swamp to which they belong comes into existence—I mean the diseased refinement and moralisation, thanks to which the "animal man" has at last learnt to be ashamed of all his instincts. 75

The curve of human sensibilities to pain seems indeed to sink in an extraordinary and almost sudden fashion, as soon as one has passed the upper ten thousand or ten millions of over-civilised humanity, and I personally have no doubt that, by comparison with one painful night passed by one single hysterical chit of a cultured woman, the suffering of all the animals taken together who have been put to the question of the knife, so as to give scientific answers, are simply negligible. 76-77

Man ... arrived at the great generalisation "everything has its price, all can be paid for," the oldest and most naïve moral canon of justice the beginning of all "kindness," of all "equity," of all "goodwill," of all "objectivity" in the world. 80

The self-destruction of Justice! we know the pretty name it calls itself—Grace! it remains, as is obvious, the privilege of the strongest, better still, their super-law. 83-84

The aggressive man has at all times enjoyed the stronger, bolder, more aristocratic, and also freer outlook, the better conscience. On the other hand, we already surmise who it really is that has on his conscience the invention of the "bad conscience,"—the resentful man! 86

To talk of intrinsic right and intrinsic wrong is absolutely nonsensical; intrinsically, an injury, an oppression, an exploitation, an annihilation can be nothing wrong, inasmuch as life is essentially (that is, in its cardinal functions) something which functions by injuring, oppressing, exploiting, and annihilating, and is absolutely inconceivable without such a character. 88

Evildoers have throughout thousands of years felt when overtaken by punishment exactly like Spinoza, on the subject of their "offence": "here is something which went wrong contrary to my anticipation, not I ought not to have done this."—They submitted themselves to punishment, just as one submits one's self to a disease, to a misfortune, or to death, with that stubborn and resigned fatalism which gives the Russians, for instance, even nowadays, the advantage over us Westerners, in the handling of life. If at that period there was a critique of action, the criterion was prudence: the real effect of punishment is unquestionably chiefly to be found in a sharpening of the sense of prudence, in a lengthening of the memory, in a will to adopt more of a policy of caution, suspicion, and secrecy; in the recognition that there are many things which are unquestionably beyond one's capacity; in a kind of improvement in self-criticism. The broad effects which can be obtained by punishment in man and beast, are the increase of fear, the sharpening of the sense of cunning, the mastery of the desires: so it is that punishment tames man, but does not make him "better"—it would be more correct even to go so far as to assert the contrary. 99

All instincts which do not find a vent without, turn inwards—this is what I mean by the growing "internalisation" of man: consequently we have the first growth in man, of what subsequently was called his soul. The whole inner world, originally as thin as if it had been stretched between two layers of skin, burst apart and expanded proportionately, and obtained depth, breadth, and height, when man's external outlet became obstructed. These terrible bulwarks, with which the social organisation protected itself against the old instincts of freedom (punishments belong pre-eminently to these bulwarks), brought it about that all those instincts of wild, free, prowling man became turned backwards against man himself. Enmity, cruelty, the delight in persecution, in surprises, change, destruction—the turning all these instincts against their own possessors: this is the origin of the "bad conscience." It was man, who, lacking external enemies and obstacles, and imprisoned as he was in the oppressive narrowness and monotony of custom, in his own impatience lacerated, persecuted, gnawed, frightened, and ill-treated himself; it was this animal in the hands of the tamer, which beat itself against the bars of its cage; it was this being who, pining and yearning for that desert home of which it had been deprived, was compelled to create out of its own self, an adventure, a torture-chamber, a hazardous and perilous desert—it was this fool, this homesick and desperate prisoner—who invented the "bad conscience." 100-101

A herd of blonde beasts of prey, a race of conquerors and masters, which with all its warlike organisation and all its organising power pounces with its terrible claws on a population, in numbers possibly tremendously superior, but as yet formless, as yet nomad. Such is the origin of the "State." That fantastic theory that makes it begin with a contract is, I think, disposed of. He who can command, he who is a master by "nature," he who comes on the scene forceful in deed and gesture—what has he to do with contracts? Such beings defy calculation, they come like fate, without cause, reason, notice, excuse, they are there like the lightning is there, too terrible, too sudden, too convincing, too "different," to be personally even hated. Their work is an instinctive creating and impressing of forms, they are the most involuntary, unconscious artists that there are.... 103

It is only the bad conscience, only the will for self-abuse, that provides the necessary conditions for the existence of altruism as a value. 105

The feeling of owing a debt to the deity has grown continuously for several centuries, always in the same proportion in which the idea of God and the consciousness of God have grown and become exalted among mankind. (The whole history of ethnic fights, victories, reconciliations, amalgamations, everything, in fact, which precedes the eventual classing of all the social elements in each great race synthesis, are mirrored in the hotch-potch genealogy of their gods, in the legends of their fights, victories, and reconciliations, Progress towards universal empires invariably means progress towards universal deities; despotism, with its subjugation of the independent nobility, always paves the way for some system or other of monotheism.) The appearance of the Christian god, as the record god up to this time, has for that very reason brought equally into the world the record amount of guilt consciousness. 109

This is a kind of madness of the will in the sphere of psychological cruelty which is absolutely unparalleled:—man's will to find himself guilty and blameworthy to the point of inexpiability, his will to think of himself as punished, without the punishment ever being able to balance the guilt, his will to infect and to poison the fundamental basis of the universe with the problem of punishment and guilt, in order to cut off once and for all any escape out of this labyrinth of "fixed ideas," his will for rearing an ideal—that of the "holy God"—face to face with which he can have tangible proof of his own unworthiness. Alas for this mad melancholy beast man! 112-113

What is the meaning of ascetic ideals? In artists, nothing, or too much; in philosophers and scholars, a kind of "flair" and instinct for the conditions most favourable to advanced intellectualism; in women, at best an additional seductive fascination, a little morbidezza on a fine piece of flesh, the angelhood of a fat, pretty animal; in physiological failures and whiners (in the majority of mortals), an attempt to pose as "too good" for this world, a holy form of debauchery, their chief weapon, in the battle with lingering pain and ennui; in priests, the actual priestly faith, their best engine of power, and also the supreme authority for power; in saints, finally a pretext for hibernation, their novissima gloria cupido, their peace in nothingness ("God"), their form of madness. 121

All good things were once bad things; from every original sin has grown an original virtue. Marriage, for example, seemed for a long time a sin against the rights of the community; a man formerly paid a fine for the insolence of claiming one woman to himself. 144-145

The soft, benevolent yielding, sympathetic feelings—eventually valued so highly that they almost become "intrinsic values," were for a very long time actually despised by their possessors; gentleness was then a subject for shame, just as hardness is now. 145

The ascetic ideal springs from the prophylactic and self-preservative instincts which mark a decadent life, which seeks by every means in its power to maintain its position and fight for its existence; it points to a partial physiological depression and exhaustion, against which the most profound and intact life-instincts fight ceaselessly with new weapons and discoveries. The ascetic ideal is such a weapon: its position is consequently exactly the reverse of that which the worshippers of the ideal imagine—life struggles in it and through it with death and against death; the ascetic ideal is a dodge for the preservation of life. 154

The ascetic priest is the incarnate wish for an existence of another kind, an existence on another plane,—he is, in fact, the highest point of this wish, its official ecstasy and passion: but it is the very power of this wish which is the fetter that binds him here; it is just that which makes him into a tool that must labour to create more favourable conditions for earthly existence, for existence on the human plane—it is with this very power that he keeps the whole herd of failures, distortions, abortions, unfortunates, sufferers from themselves of every kind, fast to existence, while he as the herdsman goes instinctively on in front. 154-155

The sick are the great danger of man, not the evil, not the "beasts of prey." They who are from the outset botched, oppressed, broken, those are they, the weakest are they, who most undermine the life beneath the feet of man, who instil the most dangerous venom and scepticism into our trust in life, in man, in ourselves. 157

Preventing the sick making the healthy sick ... this ought to be our supreme object in the world—but for this it is above all essential that the healthy should remain separated from the sick, that they should even guard themselves from the look of the sick, that they should not even associate with the sick. Or may it, perchance, be their mission to be nurses or doctors? But they could not mistake or disown their mission more grossly—the higher must not degrade itself to be the tool of the lower, the pathos of distance must to all eternity keep their missions also separate. The right of the happy to existence, the right of bells with a full tone over the discordant cracked bells, is verily a thousand times greater: they alone are the sureties of the future, they alone are bound to man's future. 160-161

The ascetic priest must be accepted by us as the predestined saviour, herdsman, and champion of the sick herd: thereby do we first understand his awful historic mission. 162

"I suffer: it must be somebody's fault"—so thinks every sick sheep. But his herdsman, the ascetic priest, says to him, "Quite so, my sheep, it must be the fault of some one; but thou thyself art that some one, it is all the fault of thyself alone—it is the fault of thyself alone against thyself": that is bold enough, false enough, but one thing is at least attained; thereby, as I have said, the course of resentment is—diverted. 165

All sick and diseased people strive instinctively after a herd-organisation, out of a desire to shake off their sense of oppressive discomfort and weakness; the ascetic priest divines this instinct and promotes it; wherever a herd exists it is the instinct of weakness which has wished for the herd, and the cleverness of the priests which has organised it, for, mark this: by an equally natural necessity the strong strive as much for isolation as the weak for union: when the former bind themselves it is only with a view to an aggressive joint action and joint satisfaction of their Will for Power, much against the wishes of their individual consciences; the latter, on the contrary, range themselves together with positive delight in such a muster—their instincts are as much gratified thereby as the instincts of the "born master" (that is the solitary beast-of-prey species of man) are disturbed and wounded to the quick by organisation. 176-177

The keynote by which the ascetic priest was enabled to get every kind of agonising and ecstatic music to play on the fibres of the human soul—was, as every one knows, the exploitation of the feeling of "guilt." 182

The ascetic ideal and its sublime moral cult, this most ingenious, reckless, and perilous systématisation of all methods of emotional excess, is writ large in a dreadful and unforgettable fashion on the whole history of man, and unfortunately not only on history. I was scarcely able to put forward any other element which attacked the health and race efficiency of Europeans with more destructive power than did this ideal; it can be dubbed, without exaggeration, the real fatality in the history of the health of the European man. 186-187

The ascetic ideal has corrupted not only health and taste, there are also third, fourth, fifth, and sixth things which it has corrupted—I shall take care not to go through the catalogue (when should I get to the end?). 190

The periods in a nation in which the learned man comes into prominence; they are the periods of exhaustion, often of sunset, of decay—the effervescing strength, the confidence of life, the confidence in the future are no more. The preponderance of the mandarins never signifies any good, any more than does the advent of democracy, or arbitration instead of war, equal rights for women, the religion of pity, and all the other symptoms of declining life. 200

The ascetic ideal simply means this: that something was lacking, that a tremendous void encircled man—he did not know how to justify himself, to explain himself, to affirm himself, he suffered from the problem of his own meaning. He suffered also in other ways, he was in the main a diseased animal; but his problem was not suffering itself, but the lack of an answer to that crying question, "To what purpose do we suffer?" Man, the bravest animal and the one most inured to suffering, does not repudiate suffering in itself: he wills it, he even seeks it out, provided that he is shown a meaning for it, a purpose of suffering was the curse which till then lay spread over humanity—and the ascetic ideal gave it a meaning! It was up till then the only meaning; but any meaning is better than no meaning; the ascetic ideal was in that connection the "faute de mieux" par excellence that existed at that time. In that ideal suffering found an explanation; the tremendous gap seemed filled; the door to all suicidal Nihilism was closed. The explanation—there is no doubt about it—brought in its train new suffering, deeper, more penetrating, more venomous, gnawing more brutally into life: it brought all suffering under the perspective of guilt; but in spite of all that—man was saved thereby, he had a meaning, and from henceforth was no more like a leaf in the wind, a shuttlecock, of chance, of nonsense, he could now "will" something—absolutely immaterial to what end, to what purpose, with that means he wished: the will itself was saved. It is absolutely impossible to disguise what in point of fact is made clear by every complete will that has taken its direction from the ascetic ideal: this hate of the human, and even more of the animal, and more still of the material, this horror of the senses, of reason itself, this fear of happiness and beauty, this desire to get right away from all illusion, change, growth, death, wishing and even desiring—all this means—let us have the courage to grasp it—a will for Nothingness, a will opposed to life, a repudiation of the most fundamental conditions of life, but it is and remains a will!—and to say at the end that which I said at the beginning—man will wish Nothingness rather than not wish at all. 210-211

IX

"The Twilight of the Idols"

Nietzsche followed "The Genealogy of Morals" with "The Case of Wagner," that famous pamphlet in which he excoriated the creator of Parsifal. Immediately after the publication of this attack, he began work on what was to be still another preparatory book for "The Will to Power." For its title he first chose "Idle Hours of a Psychologist." The book, a brief one, was already on the presses when he changed the caption to "Götzendämmerung"—"The Twilight of the Idols"—a titular parody on Wagner's "Götterdämmerung" For a subtitle he appended a characteristically Nietzschean phrase—"How to Philosophise with the Hammer." The writing of this work was done with great rapidity: it was accomplished in but a few days during August, 1888. In September it was sent to the publisher, but during its printing Nietzsche added a chapter headed "What the Germans Lack," and several aphorisms to the section called "Skirmishes in a War with the Age." In January, 1889, the book appeared.

Nietzsche was then stricken with his fatal illness, and this was the last book of his to appear during his lifetime. "The Antichrist" was already finished, having been written in the fall of 1888 immediately after the completion of "The Twilight of the Idols." "Ecce Homo" his autobiography, was written in October, 1888; and during December Nietzsche again gave his attention to Wagner, drafting "Nietzsche contra Wagner," a pamphlet made up entirely of excerpts from his earlier writings. This work, intended to supplement "The Case of Wagner," was not published until 1895, although it had been printed and corrected before the author's final breakdown. "The Antichrist" appeared at the same time as this second Wagner document, while "Ecce Homo" was withheld from publication until 1908. "The Twilight of the Idols" sold 9,000 copies, but Nietzsche's mind was too clouded to know or care that at last he was coming into his own, that the public which had denied him so long had finally begun to open its eyes to his greatness.

In many ways "The Twilight of the Idols" is one of Nietzsche's most brilliant books. Being more compact, it consequently possesses a greater degree of precision and clarity than is found in his more analytical writings. It is not, however, a treatise to which one may go without considerable preparation. With the exception of "Thus Spake Zarathustra," it demands more on the part of the reader than any of Nietzsche's other books. It is, for the most part, composed of conclusions and comments which grow directly out of the laborious ethical research of his preceding volumes, and presupposes in the student an enormous amount of reading, not only of Nietzsche's own writings but of philosophical works in general. But once equipped with this preparation, one will find more of contemporary interest in it than in the closely organised books such as "Beyond Good and Evil" and "The Genealogy of Morals." There are few points in Nietzsche's philosophy not found here. For a compact expression of his entire teaching I know of no better book to which one might turn. Nietzsche himself, to judge from a passage in his "Ecce Homo" intended this book as a statement of his whole ethical system. He probably meant that it should present in toto the principal data of his foregoing studies, in order that the reader might be familiar with all the steps in his philosophy before setting forth upon the formidable doctrines of "The Will to Power." Obviously, therefore, it is not a book for beginners. Being expositional rather than argumentative, it is open to misunderstanding and misinterpretation. It contains apparent contradictions which might confuse the student who has not followed Nietzsche in the successive points which led to his conclusions, and who is unfamiliar with the exact definitions attached to certain words relating to human conduct.

Other qualities of a misleading nature are to be encountered in this book. Many of the paragraphs have about them an air of mere cleverness, although in reality they embody profound concepts. The reader ignorant of the inner seriousness of Nietzsche will accept these passages only at their surface value. Of the forty-four short epigrams which comprise the opening chapter, I have appended but three, for fear they would be judged solely by their superficial characteristics. Many of the other aphorisms throughout the book lend themselves all too easily to the same narrow judgment.

Again, "The Problem of Socrates," the second division of the book, because of its profundity, presents many difficulties to the unprepared student. Here is a criticism of the Socratic ideals which requires, in order that it be intelligently grasped, not only a wide general knowledge, but also a specific training in the uprooting of prejudices and of traditional ethical conceptions—such a training as can be acquired only by a close study of Nietzsche's own destructive works. The explanation of Socrates's power, the condemnation of that ancient philosopher's subtle glorification of the canaille, the reasons for his secret fascination, and the interpretation of his whole mental progress culminating in his death—all this is profound and categorical criticism which has its roots in the very fundamentals of Nietzsche's philosophy. But because it is so deep-rooted, it therefore presents a wide and all-inclusive vista of that philosophy from which it stems. Furthermore, this criticism of Socrates poses a specific problem which can be answered only by resorting to the doctrines which underlie Nietzsche's entire thought. In like manner the chapter, "Reason in Philosophy," is understandable only in the light of those investigations set forth in "Beyond Good and Evil."

Under the caption, "The Four Great Errors," Nietzsche uproots a series of correlated beliefs which have the accumulated impetus of centuries of acceptance behind them. These "errors," as stated, are (1) the error of the confusion of cause and effect, (2) the error of false causality, (3) the error of imaginary causes, and (4) the error of free will. The eradication of these errors is necessary for a complete acceptance of Nietzsche's philosophy. But unless one is familiar with the vast amount of criticism which has led up to the present discussion of them, one will experience difficulty in following the subtly drawn arguments and analogies presented against them. To demonstrate briefly the specific application of the first error, namely: the confusion of cause and effect, I offer an analogy stated in the passage. We know that Christian morality teaches us that a people perish through vice and luxury—that is to say, that these two conditions are causes of racial degeneration. Nietzsche's contention to the contrary is that when a nation is approaching physiological degeneration, vice and luxury result in the guise of stimuli adopted by exhausted natures. By this it can be seen how the Christian conscience is developed by a misunderstanding of causes; and it can also be seen how this error may affect the very foundation on which morality is built. I am here stating merely the conclusion: for the reasons leading up to this conclusion one must go to the book direct.

Nietzsche denies the embodiment of the motive of an action in the "inner facts of consciousness" where, so we have been taught by psychologists and physicists, the responsibilities of conduct are contained. The will itself, he argues, is not a motivating force; rather is it an effect of other deeper causes. This is what he discusses in his paragraphs dealing with the second error of false causality. In his criticism of the third error relating to imaginary causes, he points to the comfort we obtain by attributing a certain unexplained fact to a familiar cause—by tracing it to a commonplace source—thereby doing away with its seeming mystery. Thus ordinary maladies or afflictions, or, to carry the case into moral regions, misfortunes and unaccountable strokes of fate, are explained by finding trite and plausible reasons for their existence. As a consequence the habit of postulating causes becomes a fixed mental habit. In the great majority of cases, and especially in the domain of morality and religion, the causes are false, inasmuch as the operation of finding them depends on the mental characteristics of the searcher. The error of free will Nietzsche attributes to the theologians' attempt to make mankind responsible for its acts and therefore amenable to punishment. I have been able to present his own words in explanation of this error, and they will be found at the end of this chapter—41-42 and 43.

In "Skirmishes in a War with the Age," the longest section in the book, Nietzsche gives us much brilliant and incisive criticism of men, art and human attributes. He is here at his best, both in clarity of mind and in his manner of expression. This passage, one of the last things to come from his pen, contains the full ripeness of his nature, and is a portion of his work which no student can afford to overlook. It contains the whole of the Nietzschean philosophy applied to the conditions of his age. Because it is not a direct voicing of his doctrines it does not lend itself to mutilation except where it touches on principles of conduct and abstract aspects of morality. Many of the most widely read passages of all of Nietzsche's work are contained in it. But here again, as in the case of "Thus Spake Zarathustra," one regrets that the surface brilliance of its style attracted readers in England and America before these nations were acquainted with the books which came before. The casual reader, unfamiliar with the principles underlying Nietzsche's ethic, will see only a bold and satanic flippancy in his definition of Zola—"the love of stinking," or in his characterisation of George Sand as "the cow with plenty of beautiful milk," or in his bracketing of "tea-grocers, Christians, cows, women, Englishmen and other democrats." Yet it is significant that Nietzsche did not venture upon these remarks until he had the great bulk of his life's work behind him.

In this chapter are discussions of Renan, Sainte-Beuve, George Eliot, George Sand, Emerson, Carlyle, Darwin, Schopenhauer, Goethe and other famous men and women. In the short essays devoted to these writers we have, however, more than mere detached valuations. Beneath all the criticisms is a rationale of judgment based on definite philosophical doctrines. This same basis of appreciation is present in the discussion of art and artists, to which subjects many pages are devoted. In fact, "The Twilight of the Idols" contains most of the art theories and æsthetic doctrines which Nietzsche advanced. He defines the psychology of the artist, and draws the line between the two concepts, Apollonian and Dionysian, as applied to art. He analyses the meaning of beauty and ugliness, and endeavours to show in what manner the conceptions of these qualities are related to the racial instincts. He also inquires into the doctrine of "l'art pour l'art" and points out wherein it fails in its purpose. A valuable explanation of "genius" is put forth in the theory that the accumulative power of generations breaks forth in the great men of a nation, and that these great men mark the end of an age, as in the case of the Renaissance.

The most significant brief essay in this section is an answer made to certain critics who, in reviewing "Beyond Good and Evil," claimed a superiority for the present age over the older civilisations. Nietzsche calls this essay "Have We Become Moral?" and proceeds to make comparisons of contemporaneous virtues with those of the ancients. He denies that to-day, without our decrepit humanitarianism and our doctrines of weakness, we would be able to withstand, either nervously or muscularly, the conditions that prevailed during the Renaissance. He points out that our morals are those of senility, and that we have deteriorated, physically as well as mentally, as a result of an adherence to a code of morality invented to meet the needs of a weak and impoverished people. Our virtues, he says, are determined and stimulated by our weakness, so that we have come to admire the moralities of the slave, the most prominent among which is the doctrine of equality. In the decline of all the positive forces of life Nietzsche sees only racial decadence. In this regard it is important to take note of one of the passages relative to the discussion of this decadence, namely: the one wherein he characterises the anarchist as "the mouthpiece of the decaying strata of society." The appellation of "anarchist" has not infrequently been applied to Nietzsche himself by those who have read him superficially or whose acquaintance with him has been the result of distorted hearsay. I know of no better analysis of anarchistic motives or of no keener dissection of anarchistic weakness than is set forth here. Nor do I know of any better answer to those critics who have accused Nietzsche of anarchy, than the criticism contained in this passage.

In a final chapter, under the caption of "Things I Owe to the Ancients," Nietzsche outlines the inspirational source of many of his doctrines and literary habits. This chapter is important only to the student who wishes to go to the remoter influences in Nietzsche's writings, and for that reason I have omitted from the following excerpts any quotation from it.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS"

Man thinks woman profound—why? Because he can never fathom her depths. Woman is not even shallow. 5

The trodden worm curls up. This testifies to its caution. It thus reduces its chances of being trodden upon again. In the language of morality: Humility. 5-6

The Church combats passion by means of excision of all kinds: its practise, its "remedy," is castration. It never inquires "how can a desire be spiritualised, beautified, deified?"—In all ages it has laid the weight of discipline in the process of extirpation (the extirpation of sensuality, pride, lust of dominion, lust of property, and revenge).—But to attack the passions at their roots, means attacking life itself at its source: the method of the Church is hostile to life. 27

Only degenerates find radical methods indispensable: weakness of will, or more strictly speaking, the inability not to react to a stimulus, is in itself simply another form of degeneracy. Radical and mortal hostility to sensuality, remains a suspicious symptom: it justifies one in being suspicious of the general state of one who goes to such extremes. 27

A man is productive only in so far as he is rich in contrasted instincts; he can remain young only on condition that his soul does not begin to take things easy and to yearn for peace. 28-29

All naturalism is morality—that is to say, every sound morality is ruled by a life instinct—any one of the laws of life is fulfilled by the definite canon "thou shalt," "thou shalt not," and any sort of obstacle or hostile element in the road of life is thus cleared away. Conversely, the morality which is antagonistic to nature—that is to say, almost every morality that has been taught, honoured and preached hitherto, is directed precisely against the life-instincts.... 30

Morality, as it has been understood hitherto, is the instinct of degeneration itself, which converts itself into an imperative: it says: "Perish!" It is the death sentence of men who are already doomed. 31

Morality, in so far it condemns per se, and not out of any aim, consideration or motive of life, is a specific error, for which no one should feel any mercy, a degenerate idiosyncrasy, that has done an unutterable amount of harm. 32

Every mistake is in every sense the sequel to degeneration of the instincts to disintegration of the will. This is almost the definition of evil. 35

Morality and religion are completely and utterly parts of the psychology of error: in every particular case cause and effect are confounded. 41

At present we no longer have any mercy upon the concept "free-will": we know only too well what it is—the most egregious theological trick that has ever existed for the purpose of making mankind "responsible" in a theological manner—that is to say, to make mankind dependent upon theologians. 41

The doctrine of the will was invented principally for the purpose of punishment,—that is to say, with the intention of tracing guilt. The whole of ancient psychology, or the psychology of the will, is the outcome of the fact that its originators, who were the priests at the head of ancient communities, wanted to create for themselves a right to administer punishments—or the right for God to do so. Men were thought of as "free" in order that they might be held guilty.... 42

The fact that no one shall any longer be made responsible, that the nature of existence may not be traced to a causa prima, that the world is an entity neither as a sensorium nor as a spirit—this alone is the great deliverance,—thus alone is the innocence of Becoming restored.... The concept "God" has been the greatest objection to existence hitherto.... We deny God, we deny responsibility in God: thus alone do we save the world. 43

Moral judgment has this in common with the religious one, that it believes in realities which are not real. Morality is only an interpretation of certain phenomena: or more strictly speaking, a misinterpretation of them. Moral judgment, like the religious one, belongs to a stage of ignorance in which even the concept of reality, the distinction between real and imagined things, is still lacking.... 44

In the early years of the Middle Ages, during which the Church was most distinctly and above all a menagerie, the most beautiful examples of the "blond beast" were hunted down in all directions,—the noble Germans, for instance, were "improved." But what did this "improved" German, who had been lured to the monastery look like after the process? He looked like a caricature of man, like an abortion: he had become a "sinner," he was caged up, he had been imprisoned behind a host of appalling notions. He now lay there, sick, wretched, malevolent even toward himself: full of hate for the instincts of life, full of suspicion in regard to all that is still strong and happy. In short a "Christian." In physiological terms: in a fight with an animal, the only way of making it weak may be to make it sick. The Church understood this: it ruined man, it made him weak,—but it laid claim to having "improved" him. 45-46

All means which have been used heretofore with the object of making man moral, were through and through immoral. 49

My impossible people—Seneca, or the toreador of virtue.—Rousseau, or the return to nature, in impuris naturalibus.—Schiller, or the Moral Trumpeter of Säckingen.—Dante, or the hyæna that writes poetry in tombs.—Kant, or cant as an intelligible character.—Victor Hugo, or the lighthouse on the sea of nonsense.—Liszt, or the school of racing—after women.—George Sand, or lactea ubertas, in plain English: the cow with plenty beautiful milk.—Michelet, or enthusiasm in its shirt sleeves.—Carlyle, or Pessimism after undigested meals.—John Stuart Mill, or offensive lucidity.—The brothers Goncourt, or the two Ajaxes fighting with Homer. Music by Offenbach.—Zola, or the love of stinking. 60

For art to be possible at all—that is to say, in order that an æsthetic mode of action and of observation may exist, a certain preliminary physiological state is indispensable: ecstasy. This state of ecstasy must first have intensified the susceptibility of the whole machine: otherwise, no art is possible. All kinds of ecstasy, however differently produced, have this power to create art, and above all the state dependent upon sexual excitement—this most venerable and primitive form of ecstasy. The same applies to that ecstasy which is the outcome of all great desires, all strong passions; the ecstasy of the feast, of the arena, of the act of bravery, of victory, of all extreme action; the ecstasy of cruelty; the ecstasy of destruction; the ecstasy following upon certain meteorological influences, as for instance that of springtime, or upon the use of narcotics; and finally the ecstasy of will, that ecstasy which results from accumulated and surging will-power. 68-68

What is the meaning of the antithetical concepts Apollonian and Dionysian which I have introduced into the vocabulary of Æsthetic, as representing two distinct modes of ecstasy?—Apollonian ecstasy acts above all as a force stimulating the eye, so that it acquires the power of vision. The painter, the sculptor, the epic poet are essentially visionaries. In the Dionysian state, on the other hand, the whole system of passions is stimulated and intensified, so that it discharges itself by all the means of expression at once, and vents all its power of representation, of imitation, of transfiguration, of transformation, together with every kind of mimicry and histrionic display at the same time. 67-68

As to the famous "struggle for existence," it seems to me, for the present, to be more of an assumption than a fact. It does occur, but as an exception. The general condition of life is not one of want or famine, but rather of riches, of lavish luxuriance, and even of absurd prodigality,—where there is a struggle, it is a struggle for power. 71

The most intellectual men, provided they are also the most courageous, experience the most excruciating tragedies: but on that very account they honour life, because it confronts them with its more formidable antagonism. 73

When the anarchist, as the mouthpiece of the decaying strata of society, raises his voice in splendid indignation for "right," "justice," "equal rights," he is only groaning under the burden of his ignorance, which cannot understand why he actually suffers,—what his poverty consists of—the poverty of life. 86

To bewail one's lot is always despicable: it is always the outcome of weakness. Whether one ascribes one's afflictions to others or to one's self, it is all the same. The socialist does the former, the Christian, for instance, does the latter. That which is common to both attitudes, or rather that which is equally ignoble in them both, is the fact that somebody must be to blame if one suffers—in short that the sufferer drugs himself with the honey of revenge to allay his anguish. 86

Why a Beyond, if it be not a means of splashing mud over a "Here," over this world? 87

An "altruistic" morality, a morality under which selfishness withers, is in all circumstances a bad sign. This is true of individuals and above all of nations. The best are lacking when selfishness begins to be lacking. Instinctively to select that which is harmful to one, to be lured by "disinterested" motives,—these things almost provide the formula for decadence. "Not to have one's own interests at heart"—this is simply a moral fig-leaf concealing a very different fact, a physiological one, to wit:—"I no longer know how to find what is to my interest.".... Disintegration of the instincts!—All is up with man when he becomes altruistic. 87

One should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Death should be chosen freely,—death at the right time, faced clearly and joyfully and embraced while one is surrounded by one's children and other witnesses. It should be affected in such a way that a proper farewell is still possible, that he who is about to take leave of us is still himself, and really capable not only of valuing what he has achieved and willed in life, but also of summing-up the value of life itself. Everything precisely the opposite of the ghastly comedy which Christianity has made of the hour of death. We should never forgive Christianity for having so abused the weakness of the dying man as to do violence to his conscience, or for having used his manner of dying as a means of valuing both man and his past!—In spite of all cowardly prejudices, it is our duty, in this respect, above all to reinstate the proper—that is to say, the physiological, aspect of so-called natural death, which after all is perfectly "unnatural" and nothing else than suicide. One never perishes through anybody's fault but one's own. The only thing is that the death which takes place in the most contemptible circumstances, the death that is not free, the death which occurs at the wrong time, is the death of a coward. Out of the very love one bears to life, one should wish death to be different from this—that is to say, free, deliberate, and neither a matter of chance nor of surprise. Finally let me whisper a word of advice to our friends the pessimists and all other decadents. We have not the power to prevent ourselves from being born: but this error—for sometimes it is an error—can be rectified if we choose. The man who does away with himself performs the most estimable of deeds: he almost deserves to live for having done so. 88-89

The decline of the instincts of hostility and of those instincts that arouse suspicion,—for this if anything is what constitutes our progress—is only one of the results manifested by the general decline in vitality: it requires a hundred times more trouble and caution to live such a dependent and senile existence. In such circumstances everybody gives everybody else a helping hand, and, to a certain extent, everybody is either an invalid or an invalid's attendant. This is then called "virtue": among those men who knew a different life—that is to say, a fuller, more prodigal, more superabundant sort of life, it might have been called by another name,—possibly "cowardice," or "vileness," or "old woman's morality." 91-92

Ages should be measured according to their positive forces;—valued by this standard that prodigal and fateful age of the Renaissance, appears as the last great age, while we moderns with our anxious care of ourselves and love of our neighbours, with all our unassuming virtues of industry, equity, and scientific method—with our lust of collection, of economy and of mechanism—represent a weak age. 93

Liberalism, or, in plain English, the transformation of mankind into cattle. 94

Freedom is the will to be responsible for ourselves. It is to preserve the distance which separates us from other men. To grow more indifferent to hardship, to severity, to privation, and even to life itself. To be ready to sacrifice men for one's cause, one's self included. Freedom denotes that the virile instincts which rejoice in war and in victory, prevail over other instincts; for instance, over the instincts of "happiness." The man who has won his freedom, and how much more so, therefore, the spirit that has won his freedom, tramples ruthlessly upon that contemptible kind of comfort which tea-grocers, Christians, cows, women, Englishmen and other democrats worship in their dreams. The free man is a warrior. 94-95

By showing ever more and more favour to love-marriages, the very foundation of matrimony, that which alone makes it an institution, has been undermined. No institution ever has been nor ever will be built upon an idiosyncrasy; as I say, marriage cannot be based upon "love." 97-98

The mere fact that there is such a thing as the question of the working-man is due to stupidity, or at bottom to degenerate instincts which are the cause of all the stupidity of modern times. Concerning certain things no questions ought to be put: the first imperative principle of instinct. For the life of me I cannot see what people want to do with the working-man of Europe; now that they have made a question of him. He is far too comfortable to cease from questioning, ever more and more, and with ever less modesty. After all, he has the majority on his side. There is now not the slightest hope that an unassuming and contented sort of man, after the style of the Chinaman, will come into being in this quarter: and this would have been the reasonable course, it was even a dire necessity. What has been done? Everything has been done with the view of nipping the very pre-requisite of this accomplishment in the bud,—with the most frivolous thoughtlessness those self-same instincts by means of which a working-class becomes possible, and tolerable even to its members themselves, have been destroyed root and branch. The working-man has been declared fit for military service; he has been granted the right of combination, and of franchise: can it be wondered at that he already regards his condition as one of distress (expressed morally, as an injustice)? But, again I ask, what do people want? If they desire a certain end, then they should desire the means thereto. If they will have slaves, then it is madness to educate them to be masters. 98-99

Great men, like great ages, are explosive material, in which a stupendous amount of power is accumulated; the first conditions of their existence are always historical and physiological; they are the outcome of the fact that for long ages energy has been collected, hoarded up, saved up and preserved for their use, and that no explosion has taken place. When the tension in the bulk has become sufficiently excessive, the most fortuitous stimulus suffices in order to call "genius," "great deeds," and momentous fate into the world. 101-102

The criminal type is the type of the strong man and unfavourable conditions, a strong man made sick. He lacks the wild and savage state, a form of nature and existence which is freer and more dangerous, in which everything that constitutes the shield and the sword in the instinct of the strong man, takes a place by right. Society puts a ban upon his virtues; the most spirited instincts inherent in him immediately become involved with the depressing passions, with suspicion, fear and dishonour. But this is almost the recipe for physiological degeneration. When a man has to do that which he is best suited to do, which he is most fond of doing, not only clandestinely, but also with long suspense, caution and ruse, he becomes anæmic; and inasmuch as he is always having to pay for his instincts in the form of danger, persecution and fatalities, even his feelings begin to turn against these instincts—he begins to regard them as fatal. It is society, our tame, mediocre, castrated society, in which an untutored son of nature who comes to us from his mountains or from his adventures at sea, must necessarily degenerate into a criminal. Or almost necessarily: for there are cases in which such a man shows himself to be stronger than society: the Corsican Napoleon is the most celebrated case of this. 103-104

As long as the priest represented the highest type of man, every valuable kind of man was depreciated.... The time is coming—this I guarantee—when he will pass as the lowest type, as our Chandala, as the falsest and most disreputable kind of man. 105

Everything good is an inheritance: that which is not inherited is imperfect, it is simply a beginning. 107

Christianity with its contempt of the body is the greatest mishap that has ever befallen mankind. 108

I also speak of a "return to nature," although it is not a process of going back but of going up—up into lofty, free and even terrible nature and naturalness; such a nature as can play with great tasks and may play with them. 108

The doctrine of equality!... But there is no more deadly poison than this for it seems to proceed from the very lips of justice, whereas in reality it draws the curtain down on all justice.... "To equals equality, to unequals inequality"—that would be the real speech of justice and that which follows from it. "Never make unequal things equal." The fact that so much horror and blood are associated with this doctrine of equality, has lent this "modern idea" par excellence such a halo of fire and glory, that the Revolution as a drama has misled even the most noble minds. 108-109

X

"The Antichrist"

"The Antichrist" ("Der Antichrist") was written in September, 1888, work evidently having been begun on it as soon as "The Twilight of the Idols" had been sent to the publisher. Its composition could not have occupied more than a few weeks at most, for the former book was not despatched until September 7, and the present work was completed before October. At this time Nietzsche was working at high pressure. He must have had some presentiment of his impending breakdown for he filled in every available minute with ardent and rapid writing. The fall of 1888 was the most prolific period of his life. No less than four books "The Twilight of the Idols," "The Antichrist," "Nietzsche contra Wagner" and "Ecce Homo"—were completed by him between the late summer and the first of the year; and in addition to this he made many notes for his future volumes and read and corrected a considerable amount of proofs. "The Antichrist," however, though completed in 1888, was not published until the end of 1894, six years after he had laid aside his work forever, and at a time when his mind was too darkened to know or care about the circumstances of its issuance. It appeared in Vol. XIII of Nietzsches Werke which, although published at the close of 1894, bore the date of the following year.

"The Antichrist" which, like "Beyond Good and Evil," "The Genealogy of Morals" and "The Twilight of the Idols," forms a part of Nietzsche's final philosophic scheme, was intended—to judge from the evidence contained in his notebooks—as the first division of a work to be entitled "The Trans valuation of All Values" ("Die Umwertung Aller Werte"). In fact this title and also "The Will to Power" were considered alternately for his magnum opus which he intended writing after the completion of "The Transvaluation of All Values." He finally decided on the latter title for his great work, although he used the former caption as a subtitle. The complete outline for the volumes which were to be called "The Transvaluation of All Values" and which were to be incorporated in his final general plan, is as follows:

1. "The Antichrist. An Attempted Criticism of Christianity." ("Der Antichrist: Versuch einer Kritik des Christenthums.")

2. "The Free Spirit. A Criticism of Philosophy as a Nihilistic Movement." ("Der freie Geist: Kritik der Philosophie als einer nihilistischen Bewegung")

3. "The Immoralist. A Criticism of the Most Fatal Species of Ignorance, Morality." ("Der Immoralist: Kritik der verhängnissvollsten Art von Unwissenheit, der Moral")

4. "Dionysus, the Philosophy of Eternal Recurrence." ("Dionysus, Philosophie der ewigen Wiederkunft")

But Nietzsche did not finish this task, although "The Antichrist" is in the form in which he intended it to be published. Nevertheless, it must be considered merely as a fragment of a much more extensive plan. Though Nietzsche was far from being the first, he yet was the most effective critic who ever waged war against Christianity. This was due to the fact that he went about his destructive work from an entirely new angle. Before him there had been many competent anti-Christian writers and scientists. Even during his own time there was a large and loud school of atheists at work undermining the foundations of Nazarene morality. With the methods of his predecessors and contemporaries, however, he had nothing in common. He saw that, despite the scientific denial of the miracles of Christianity and the biological opposition to the origin of Christian history, the theologian was always able to reply to the denial of Christian truth with the counter-argument of Christian practicability. Thus, while the reasoning of such men as Darwin, Huxley and Spencer held good so far as the scientific aspects of Christianity went, the results of Christianity were not involved. The church, meeting the onslaughts of the "higher criticism," denied the necessity of a literal belief in the Gospels, and asserted that, while all the anti-Christian critics might be accurate in their purely scientific and logical conclusions, Christianity itself as a workable code was still efficient and deserving of consideration as the most perfect system of conduct the world had ever known. Nietzsche therefore did not go into the field already ploughed by Voltaire, Hume, Huxley, Spencer, Paine and a host of lesser "free thinkers." The preliminary battles in the great warfare against Christianity had already been won, and he saw the futility of proceeding along historical and scientific lines. Consequently he turned his attention to a consideration of the effects of Christian morality upon the race, to an inquiry into the causes of pity-morality, and to a comparison of moral codes in their relation to the needs of humanity. Whether or not the origins of Christianity conformed to biological laws did not concern him, although he assumed as his hypothesis the conclusions of the scientific investigators. The only way of determining the merits and demerits of the Christian code, he argued, was to ascertain the actual results of its application, and to compare these with the results which had accrued from the application of hardier and healthier codes. To this investigation Nietzsche devotes practically the whole of "The Antichrist," although there are a few analytical passages relating to the early dissemination of Jewish ethics. But with these passages the student need not seriously concern himself. They are speculative and non-essential.

Nietzsche's criticism of the effects of Christian virtues, however, did not begin in "The Antichrist," although this book is the final flowering of those anti-Christian ideas which cropped up continually throughout his entire work. This religious antipathy was present even in his early academic essays, and in "Human, All-Too-Human" we find him well launched upon his campaign. No book of his, with the exception of his unfinished pamphlet, "The Eternal Recurrence," is free from this criticism. But one will find all his earlier conclusions and arguments drawn together in a compact and complete whole in the present volume.

Nietzsche's accusation against Christianity, reduced to a few words, is that it works against the higher development of the individual; that, being a religion of weakness, it fails to meet the requirements of the modern man; in short, that it is dangerous. This conclusion is founded on the principle of biological monism. Nietzsche assumes Darwin's law of the struggle for existence, and argues that the Christian virtues oppose not only this law but the law of natural selection as well. By this opposition the race has been weakened, for self-sacrifice, the basis of Christian morality, detracts from the power of the individual and consequently lessens his chances for existence. Furthermore, the Christian ideal in itself is opposed to progress and all that progress entails, such as science and research. Knowledge of any kind tends to make man more independent, and thereby reduces his need for theological supervision. As a result of the passing over of power from the strong to the weak, in accordance with the morality of Christianity, the strength of the race as a whole is depleted. Furthermore, such a procedure is in direct opposition to the laws of nature, and so long as man lives in a natural environment the only way to insure progress is to conform to the conditions of that environment. Nietzsche therefore makes a plea for the adoption of other than Christian standards—standards compatible with the laws of existence. He points out that already the race has been almost irremediably weakened by its adherence to anti-natural doctrines, that each day of Christian activity is another step in the complete degeneration of man. And he asserts that the only reason the race has maintained its power as long as it has is because the stronger members of society, despite their voiced belief, do not live up to the Christian code, but are continually compromising with it.

The problem of the origin of Christianity interests Nietzsche, because he sees in it an explanation of the results which it wished to accomplish. Christianity, says he, can be understood only in relation to the soil out of which it grew. When the Jewish people, subjugated and in a position of slavery, were confronted with the danger of extermination at the hands of a stronger people, they invented a system of conduct which would insure their continued existence. They realised that the adherence to such virtues as retaliation, aggressiveness, initiative, cruelty, arrogance and the like would mean death; the stronger nations would not have countenanced such qualities in a weak and depleted nation. As a result the Jews replaced retaliation with "long suffering," aggressiveness with peacefulness, cruelty with kindness, and arrogance with humility. These negative virtues took the place of positive virtues, and were turned into "beatitudes." By thus "turning the other cheek" and "forgiving one's enemies," instead of resenting persecution and attempting to avenge the wrongs perpetrated against them, they were able to prolong life. This system of conduct, says Nietzsche, was a direct falsification of all natural conditions and a perversion of all healthy instincts. It was the morality of an impoverished and subservient people, and was adopted by the Jews only when they had been stripped of their power.

Nietzsche presents a psychological history of Israel as an example of the process by which natural values were denaturalised. The God of Israel was Jehovah. He was the expression of the nation's consciousness of power, of joy and of hope. Victory and salvation were expected from him: he was the God of justice. The Assyrians and internal anarchy changed the conditions of Israel. Jehovah was no longer able to bring victory to his people, and consequently the nature of this God was changed. In the hands of the priest he became a weapon, and unhappiness was interpreted as punishment for "sins." Jehovah became a moral dictator, and consequently morality among the Israelites ceased to be an expression of the conditions of life and became an abstract theory opposed to life. Nor did the Jewish priesthood stop at this. It interpreted the whole of history with a view to showing that all sin against Jehovah led to punishment and that all pious worship of Jehovah resulted in reward. A moral order of the universe was thus substituted for a natural one. To bolster up this theory a "revelation" became necessary. Accordingly a "stupendous literary fraud" was perpetrated, and the "holy scriptures" were "discovered" and foisted upon the people. The priests, avid for power, made themselves indispensable by attributing to the will of God all those acts they desired of the people. Repentance, namely: submission to the priests, was inaugurated. Thus Christianity, hostile to all reality and power, gained its footing.

The psychology of Christ, as set forth in "The Antichrist," and the use made of his doctrines by those who directly followed him, form an important part of Nietzsche's argument against Christian morality. Christ's doctrine, according to Nietzsche, was one of immediacy. It was a mode of conduct and not, according to the present Christian conception, a preparation for a future world. Christ was a simple heretic in his rebellion against the existing political order. He represented a reactionary mode of existence—-a system of conduct which said Nay to life, a code of inaction and non-interference. His death on the cross was meant as a supreme example and proof of this doctrine. It remained for his disciples to attach other meanings to it. Loving Christ as they did, and consequently blinded by that love, they were unable to forgive his execution at the hands of the State. At the same time they were unprepared to follow his example and to give their own lives to the cause of his teachings. A feeling of revenge sprang up in them, and they endeavoured to find an excuse for his death. To what was it attributable? And the answer they found, says Nietzsche, was "dominant Judaism, its ruling class." For the moment they failed to realise that the "Kingdom of God," as preached by Christ, was an earthly thing, something contained within the individual; and after the crucifixion it was necessary for them either to follow Christ's example or to interpret his death, a voluntary one, as a promise of future happiness, that is, to translate his practical doctrine into symbolic terms. They unhesitatingly chose the latter.

In their search for an explanation as to how God could have allowed his "son" to be executed, they fell upon the theory that Christ's death was a sacrifice for their sins, an expiation for their guilt. From that time on, says Nietzsche, "there was gradually imported into the type of the Saviour the doctrine of the Last Judgment, and of the 'second coming,' the doctrine of sacrificial death, and the doctrine of Resurrection, by means of which the whole concept 'blessedness,' the entire and only reality of the gospel, is conjured away—in favour of a state after death." St. Paul then rationalised the conception by introducing into it the doctrine of personal immortality by means of having Christ rise from the dead; and he preached this immortality as a reward for virtue. Thus, asserts Nietzsche, Christ's effort toward a Buddhistic movement of peace, "toward real and not merely promised happiness on earth" was controverted by his posterity. Nothing of Christ's original doctrine remained, once Paul, the forger, set to work to twist it to his own ends. Paul went further and by changing and falsifying it turned all Jewish history into a prophecy for his own teachings. Thus the whole doctrine of Christ, the true meaning of his death and the realities which he taught, were altered and distorted. In short, Christ's life was used as a means for furthering the religion of Paul, who gave to it the name of Christianity.

A most important part of "The Antichrist" is that passage wherein Nietzsche defines his order of castes. Every healthy society, says he, falls naturally into three separate and distinct types. These classes condition one another and "gravitate differently in the psychological sense." Each type has its own work, its own duties, its own emotions, its own compensations and mastership. The first class, comprising the rulers, is distinguished by its intellectual superiority. It devolves upon this class "to represent happiness, beauty and goodness on earth." The members of this superior class are in the minority, but they are nevertheless the creators of values. "Their delight is self-mastery: with them asceticism becomes a second nature, a need, an instinct. They regard a difficult task as their privilege; to play with burdens which crush their fellows is to them a recreation." They are at once the most honourable, cheerful and gracious of all men. The second class is composed of those who relieve the first class of their duties and execute the will of the rulers. They are the guardians of the law, the merchants and professional men, the warriors and the judges. In brief, they are the executors of the race. The third class is made up of the workers, the lowest order of man—those destined for menial and disagreeable tasks. "The fact," says Nietzsche, "that one is publicly useful, a wheel, a function, presupposes a certain natural destiny: it is not society, but the only kind of happiness of which the great majority are capable, that makes them intelligent machines. For the mediocre it is a joy to be mediocre; in them mastery in one thing, a specialty, is a natural instinct." The conception of these classes contains the nucleus of Nietzsche's doctrine. It embodies his whole idea of a natural aristocracy as opposed to the spurious European aristocracy of the present day, wherein the rulers are in reality merely members of the second class.

The charge is constantly brought against Nietzsche by the ecclesiastic dialecticians that his criticism of Christianity is fraught with the very nihilism against which he so eloquently argues. There is perhaps a slight basis for such a contention if we confine ourselves strictly to those of his utterances against the Jewish morality which appear in his previous books. But in "The Antichrist" this does not hold true even in the slightest manner. Nietzsche is constantly supplanting modes of action for every Christian virtue he denies. He is as constructive as he is destructive. "The Antichrist" contains, not only a complete denial of all Christian morality, but a statement of a new and consistent system of ethics based on the research of all his works.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE ANTICHRIST"

What is good? All that enhances the feeling of power, the Will to Power, and power itself in man. What is bad?—All that proceeds from weakness. What is happiness?—The feeling that power is increasing,- that resistance has been overcome.

Not contentment, but more power; not peace at any price, but war; not virtue, but efficiency (virtue in the Renaissance sense, virtu, free from all moralic acid). The weak and botched shall perish: first principle of our humanity. And they ought even to be helped to perish.

What is more harmful than any vice?—Practical sympathy with all the botched and the weak—Christianity. 128

We must not deck out and adorn Christianity: it has waged a deadly war upon this higher type of man, it has set a ban upon all the fundamental instincts of this type, and has distilled evil and the devil himself out of these instincts:—the strong man as the typical pariah, the villain. Christianity has sided with everything weak, low, and botched; it has made an ideal out of antagonism against all the self-preservative instincts of strong life: it has corrupted even the reason of the strongest intellects, by teaching that the highest values of intellectuality are sinful, misleading and full of temptations. 130

I call an animal, a species, an individual corrupt, when it loses its instincts, when it selects and prefers that which is detrimental to it. 131

Life itself, to my mind, is nothing more nor less than the instinct of growth, of permanence, of accumulating forces, of power: where the will to power is lacking, degeneration sets in. 131

Pity is opposed to the tonic passions which enhance the energy of the feeling of life: its action is depressing. A man loses power when he pities. By means of pity the drain on strength which suffering itself already introduces into the world is multiplied a thousandfold. 131

On the whole, pity thwarts the law of development which is the law of selection. It preserves that which is ripe for death, it fights in favour of the disinherited and the condemned of life. 131-132

This depressing and infectious instinct thwarts those instincts which aim at the preservation and enhancement of the value of life: by multiplying misery quite as much as by preserving all that is miserable, it is the principal agent in promoting decadence. 132

That which a theologian considers true, must of necessity be false: this furnishes almost the criterion of truth. It is his most profound self-preservative instinct which forbids reality ever to attain to honour in any way, or even to raise its voice. Whithersoever the influence of the theologian extends, valuations are topsy-turvy, and the concepts "true" and "false" have necessarily changed places: that which is most deleterious to life, is here called "true," that which enhances it, elevates it, says Yea to it, justifies it and renders it triumphant, is called "false." 135

What is there that destroys a man more speedily than to work, think, feel, as an automaton of "duty," without internal promptings, without a profound personal predilection, without joy? This is the recipe par excellence of decadence and even of idiocy. 137

In Christianity, neither morality nor religion comes in touch at all with reality. Nothing but imaginary causes (God, the soul, the ego, spirit, free will—or even non-free will); nothing but imaginary effects (sin, salvation, grace, punishment, forgiveness of sins). Imaginary beings are supposed to have intercourse (God, spirits, souls); imaginary Natural History (anthropocentric: total lack of the notion, "natural causes"); an imaginary psychology (nothing but misunderstandings of self, interpretations of pleasant or unpleasant general feelings; for instance of the states of the nervus sympathicus, with the help of the sign language of a religio-moral idiosyncrasy,—repentance, pangs of conscience, the temptation of the devil, the presence of God); an imaginary teleology (the Kingdom of God, the Last Judgment, Everlasting Life). 141-142

A proud people requires a God, unto whom it can sacrifice things.... Religion, when restricted to these principles, is a form of gratitude. A man is grateful for his own existence; for this he must have a God.—Such a God must be able to profit and to injure him, he must be able to act the friend and the foe. He must be esteemed for his good as well as for his evil qualities. 143

When a people is on the road to ruin; when it feels its belief in a future, its hope of freedom vanishing for ever; when it becomes conscious of submission as the most useful quality, and of the virtues of the submissive as self-preservative measures, then its God must also modify himself. He then becomes a tremulous and unassuming sneak; he counsels "peace of the soul," the cessation of all hatred, leniency and "love" even towards friend and foe. He is for ever moralising, he crawls into the heart of every private virtue, becomes a God for everybody. 143

The Christian concept of God—God as the deity of the sick, God as a spider, God as a spirit—is one of the most corrupt concepts of God that has ever been attained on earth. Maybe it represents the low-water mark in the evolutionary ebb of the godlike type. God degenerated into the contradiction of life, instead of being its transfiguration and eternal Yea! With God war is declared on life, nature, and the will to life! God is the formula for every calumny of this world and for every lie concerning a beyond! 146

Christianity aims at mastering beasts of prey; its expedient is to make them ill,—to render feeble is the Christian recipe for taming, for "civilisation." 151

If faith is above all necessary, then reason, knowledge, and scientific research must be brought into evil repute: the road to truth becomes the forbidden road.—Strong hope is a much greater stimulant of life than any single realised joy could be. Sufferers must be sustained by a hope which no actuality can contradict,—and which cannot ever be realised: the hope of another world. (Precisely on account of this power that hope has of making the unhappy linger on, the Greeks regarded it as the evil of evils, as the most mischievous evil: it remained behind in Pandora's box.) In order that love may be possible, God must be a person. In order that the lowest instincts may also make their voices heard God must be young. For the ardour of the women a beautiful saint, and for the ardour of the men a Virgin Mary has to be pressed into the foreground. All this on condition that Christianity wishes to rule over a certain soil, on which Aphrodisiac or Adonis cults had already determined the notion of a cult. To insist upon chastity only intensifies the vehemence and profundity of the religious instinct—it makes the cult warmer, more enthusiastic, more soulful.—Love is the state in which man sees things most widely different from what they are. The force of illusion reaches its zenith here, as likewise the sweetening and transfiguring power. When a man is in love he endures more than at other times; he submits to everything. The thing was to discover a religion in which it was possible to love: by this means the worst in life is overcome—it is no longer even seen.—So much for three Christian virtues Faith, Hope, and Charity: I call them the three Christian precautionary measures. 152-153

What is Jewish morality, what is Christian morality? Chance robbed of its innocence; unhappiness polluted with the idea of "sin"; well being interpreted as a danger, as a "temptation"; physiological indisposition poisoned by means of the cankerworm of conscience. 157-158

What does a "moral order of the universe" mean? That once and for all there is such a thing as will of God which determines what man has to do and what he has to leave undone; that the value of a people or of an individual is measured according to how much or how little the one or the other obeys the will of God; that in the destinies of a people or of an individual, the will of God shows itself dominant, that is to say it punishes or rewards according to the degree of obedience. In the place of this miserable falsehood reality says: a parasitical type of man, who can flourish only at the cost of all the healthy elements of life, the priest abuses the name of God: he calls that state of affairs in which the priest determines the value of things "the Kingdom of God"; he calls the means whereby such a state of affairs is attained or maintained, "the Will of God"; with cold-blooded cynicism he measures peoples, ages and individuals according to whether they favour or oppose the ascendency of the priesthood. 158-159

I fail to see against whom was directed the insurrection of which rightly or wrongly Jesus is understood to have been the promoter, if it were not directed against the Jewish church. 162

This saintly anarchist who called the lowest of the low, the outcasts and "sinners," the Chandala of Judaism, to revolt against the established order of things (and in language which, if the gospels are to be trusted, would get one sent to Siberia even to-day)—this man was a political criminal in so far as political criminals were possible in a community so absurdly non-political. This brought him to the cross: the proof of this is the inscription found thereon. He died for his sins—and no matter how often the contrary has been asserted there is absolutely nothing to show that he died for the sins of others. 162-163

The instinctive hatred of reality is the outcome of an extreme susceptibility to pain and to irritation, which can no longer endure to be "touched" at all, because every sensation strikes too deep.

The instinctive exclusion of all aversion, of all hostility, of all boundaries and distances in feeling, is the outcome of an extreme susceptibility to pain and to irritation, which regards all resistance, all compulsory resistance as insufferable anguish(—that is to say, as harmful, as deprecated by the self-preservative instinct), and which knows blessedness (happiness) only when it is no longer obliged to offer resistance to anybody, either evil or detrimental,—love as the only ultimate possibility of life....

These are the two physiological realities upon which and out of which the doctrine of salvation has grown. 166

With a little terminological laxity Jesus might be called a "free spirit"—he cares not a jot for anything that is established: the word killeth, everything fixed killeth. The idea, experience, "life" as he alone knows it, is, according to him, opposed to every kind of word, formula, law, faith and dogma. He speaks only of the innermost things: "life" or "truth" or "light," is his expression for the innermost things,—everything else the whole of reality, the whole of nature, language even, has only the value of a sign, of a simile for him. 169-170

The whole psychology of the "gospels" lacks the concept of guilt and punishment, as also that of reward. "Sin," any sort of aloofness between God and man, is done away with,—this is precisely what constitutes the "glad tidings." Eternal bliss is not promised, it is not bound up with certain conditions; it is the only reality—the rest consists only of signs wherewith to speak about it....

The results of such a state project themselves into a new practice of life, the actual evangelical practice. It is not a "faith" which distinguishes himself by means of a different mode of action.... 171

The life of the Saviour was naught else than this practice,—neither was his death. He no longer required any formulæ, any rites for his relations with God—not even prayer. He has done with all the Jewish teaching of repentance and of atonement; he alone knows the mode of life which makes one feel "divine," "saved," "evangelical," and at all times a "child of God." Not "repentance," not "prayer and forgiveness" are the roads to God: the evangelical mode of life alone leads to God, it is "God."—That which the gospels abolished was the Judaism of the concepts "sin," "forgiveness of sin," "faith," "salvation through faith,"—the whole doctrine of the Jewish church was denied by the "glad tidings."

The profound instinct of how one must live in order to feel "in Heaven," in order to feel "eternal," while in every other respect one feels by no means "in Heaven": this alone is the psychological reality of "Salvation."—A new life and not a new faith.... 171-172

This "messenger of glad tidings" died as he lived and as he taught—not in order "to save mankind," but in order to show how one ought to live. It was a mode of life that he bequeathed to mankind: his behaviour before his judges, his attitude towards his executioners, his accusers, and all kinds of calumny and scorn,—his demeanour on the cross. 174

The history of Christianity—from the death on the cross onwards—is the history of a gradual and ever coarser misunderstanding of an original symbolism. 175

"The world" to Christianity means that a man is a soldier, a judge, a patriot, that he defends himself, that he values his honour, that he desires his own advantage, that he is proud..... The conduct of every moment, every instinct, every valuation that leads to a deed, is at present anti-Christian: what an abortion of falsehood modern man must be, in order to be able without a blush still to call himself a Christian! 178

The very word "Christianity" is a misunderstanding,—truth to tell, there never was more than one Christian, and he died on the Cross. The "gospel" died on the cross. That which thenceforward was called "gospel" was the reverse of that "gospel" that Christ had lived: it was "evil tidings," a dysangel. It is false to the point of nonsense to see in "faith," in the faith in salvation through Christ, the distinguishing trait of the Christian; the only thing that is Christian is the Christian mode of existence, a life such as he led who died on the Cross.... To this day a life of this kind is still possible; for certain men, it is even necessary: genuine, primitive Christianity will be possible in all ages.... Not a faith, but a course of action. 178-179

To regard a man like St.-Paul as honest (a man whose home was the very headquarters of Stoical enlightenment) when he devises a proof of the continued existence of the Saviour out of a hallucination; or even to believe him when he declares that he had this hallucination, would amount to foolishness on the part of a psychologist: St.-Paul desired the end, consequently he also desired the means.... Even what he himself did not believe, was believed in by the idiots among whom he spread his doctrine.—What he wanted was power; with St.-Paul the priest again aspired to power. 185

When the centre of gravity of life is laid, not in life, but in a beyond—in nonentity, life is utterly robbed of its balance. The great lie of personal immortality destroys all reason, all nature in the instincts,—everything in the instincts that is beneficent, that promotes life and that is a guarantee of the future, henceforward aroused suspicion. The very meaning of life is now construed as the effort to live in such a way that life no longer has any point.... Why show any public spirit? Why be grateful for one's origin and one's forebears? Why collaborate with one's fellows, and be confident? Why be concerned about the general weal or strive after it?... All these things are merely so many "temptations," so many deviations from the "straight path." "One thing only is necessary" ... that everybody, as an "immortal soul," should have equal rank, that in the totality of beings, the "salvation" of each individual may lay claim to eternal importance, that insignificant bigots and three-quarter-lunatics may have the right to suppose that the laws of nature may be persistently broken on their account,—any such magnification of every kind of selfishness to infinity, to insolence, cannot be branded with sufficient contempt. And yet it is to this miserable flattery of personal vanity that Christianity owed its triumph,—by this means it lured all the bungled and the botched, all revolting and revolted people, all abortions, the whole of the refuse and offal of humanity, over to its side. 185-186

With Christianity, the art of feeling holy lies, which constitutes the whole of Judaism, reaches its final mastership, thanks to many centuries of Jewish and most thoroughly serious training and practice. 188

Only read the gospels as books calculated to seduce by means of morality—morality is appropriated by these petty people,—they know what morality can do! The best way of leading mankind by the nose is with morality! The fact is that the most conscious conceit of people who believe themselves to be chosen, here simulates modesty: in this way they, the Christian community, the "good and the just" place themselves once and for all on a certain side, the side "of Truth"—and the rest of mankind, "the world" on the other.... This was the most fatal kind of megalomania that had ever yet existed on earth; insignificant little abortions of bigots and liars began to lay sole claim to the concepts "God," "Truth," "Light," "Spirit," "Love," "Wisdom," "Life," as if these things were, so to speak, synonyms of themselves, in order to fence themselves off from "the world"; little ultra-Jews, ripe for every kind of madhouse, twisted values round in order to suit themselves, just as if the Christian, alone, were the meaning, the salt, the standard and even the "ultimate tribunal" of all the rest of mankind. 189-190

One does well to put on one's gloves when reading the New Testament. The proximity of so much pitch almost defiles one. We should feel just as little inclined to hobnob with "the first Christians" as with Polish Jews: not that we need explain our objections.... They simply smell bad.—In vain have I sought for a single sympathetic feature in the New Testament; there is not a trace of freedom, kindliness, openheartedness and honesty to be found in it. Humaneness has not even made a start in this book, while cleanly instincts are entirely absent from it.... Only evil instincts are to be found in the New Testament, it shows no sign of courage, these people lack even the courage of these evil instincts. All is cowardice, all is a closing of one's eyes and self-deception. Every book becomes clean, after one has just read the New Testament. 193-194

In the whole of the New Testament only one figure appears which we cannot help respecting. Pilate, the Roman Governor. To take a Jewish quarrel seriously was a thing he could not get himself to do. One Jew more or less—what did it matter?... The noble scorn of a Roman, in whose presence the word "truth" had been shamelessly abused, has enriched the New Testament with the only saying which is of value,—and this saying is not only the criticism, but actually the shattering of that Testament: "What is truth!" 195-196

No one is either a philologist or a doctor, who is not also an Antichrist. As a philologist, for instance, a man sees behind the "holy books" as a doctor he sees behind the physiological rottenness of the typical Christian. The Doctor says "incurable," the philologist says "forgery." 197

The priest knows only one great danger, and that is science,—the healthy concept of cause and effect. But, on the whole, science flourishes only in happy conditions,—a man must have time, he must also have superfluous mental energy in order to "pursue knowledge." ... "Consequently man must be made unhappy,"—this has been the argument of the priest of all ages.—You have already divined what, in accordance with such a manner of arguing, must first have come into the world:—"sin.".... The notion of guilt and punishment, the whole "moral order of the universe," was invented against science. 199

The notion of guilt and punishment, including the doctrine of "grace," of "salvation" and of "forgiveness"—all lies through and through without a shred of psychological reality—were invented in order to destroy man's sense of causality: they are an attack with the fist, with the knife, with honesty in hate and love! But one actuated by the most cowardly, most crafty, and most ignoble instincts! A priest's attack! A parasite's attack! A vampyrism of pale subterranean leeches! 200

"Faith saveth; therefore it is true."—It might be objected here that it is precisely salvation which is not probed but only promised; salvation is bound up with the condition "faith,"—one shall be saved, because one has faith.... But how prove that that which the priest promises to the faithful really will take place, to wit: the "Beyond" which defies all demonstration?—The assumed "proof of power" is at bottom once again only a belief in the fact that the effect which faith promises will not fail to take place. In a formula: "I believe that faith saveth;—consequently it is true."—But with this we are at the end of our tether. 201

Holiness in itself is simply a symptom of an impoverished, enervated and incurably deteriorated body! 203-204

Christianity is built upon the rancour of the sick; its instinct is directed against the sound, against health. Everything well-constituted, proud, high-spirited, and beautiful is offensive to its ears and eyes. 204

"Faith" simply means the refusal to know what is true. 205

The conclusion which all idiots, women and common people come to, that there must be something in a cause for which some one lays down his life (or which, as in the case of primitive Christianity, provokes an epidemic of sacrifices),—this conclusion put a tremendous check upon all investigation, upon the spirit of investigation and of caution. Martyrs have harmed the cause of truth. 208

Convictions are prisons. They never see far enough, they do not look down from a sufficient height: but in order to have any say in questions of value and non-value, a man must see five hundred convictions beneath him—behind him.... A spirit who desires great things, and who also desires the means thereto, is necessarily a sceptic. Freedom from every kind of conviction belongs to strength, to the ability to open one's eyes freely. 209-210

Whom do I hate most among the rabble, the Chandala apostles, who undermine the working man's instinct, his happiness and his feeling of contentedness with his insignificant existence,—who make him envious, and who teach him revenge.... The wrong never lies in unequal rights; it lies in the claim to equal rights. 220

The Christian and the anarchist are both decadents; they are both incapable of acting in any other way than disintegratingly, poisonously and witheringly, like bloodsuckers; they are both actuated by an instinct of mortal hatred of everything that stands erect, that is great, that is lasting, and that is a guarantee of the future. 221-222

Christianity destroyed the harvest we might have reaped from the culture of antiquity, later it also destroyed our harvest of the culture of Islam. The wonderful Moorish world of Spanish culture, which in its essence is more closely related to us, and which appeals more to our sense and taste than Rome and Greece, was trampled to death(—I do not say by what kind of feet), why?—because it owed its origin to noble, to manly instincts, because it said yea to life, even that life so full of the race, and refined luxuries of the Moors! 226

I condemn Christianity and confront it with the most terrible accusation that an accuser has ever had in his mouth. To my mind it is the greatest of all conceivable corruptions, it has had the will to the last imaginable corruption. The Christian Church allowed nothing to escape from its corruption; it converted every value into its opposite, every truth into a lie, and every honest impulse into an ignominy of the soul. Let any one dare to speak to me of its humanitarian blessings! To abolish any sort of distress was opposed to its profoundest interests; its very existence depended on states of distress; it created states of distress in order to make itself immortal.... The cancer germ of sin, for instance: the Church was the first to enrich mankind with this misery!—The "equality of souls before God," this falsehood, this pretext for the rancunes of all the base-minded, this anarchist bomb of a concept, which has ultimately become the revolution, the modern idea, the principle of decay of the whole of social order,—this is Christian dynamite.... The "humanitarian" blessings of Christianity! To breed a self-contradiction, an art of self-profanation, a will to lie at any price, an aversion, a contempt of all good and honest instincts out of humanitas! Is this what you call the blessings of Christianity?—Parasitism as the only method of the Church; sucking all the blood, all the love, all the hope of life out of mankind with anæmic and sacred ideals. A "Beyond" as the will to deny all reality; the cross as the trade-mark of the most subterranean form of conspiracy that has ever existed,—against health, beauty, well-constitutedness, bravery, intellect, kindliness of soul, against Life itself....

This eternal accusation against Christianity I would fain write on all walls, wherever there are walls,—I have letters with which I can make even the blind see.... I call Christianity the one great curse, the one enormous and innermost perversion, the one great instinct of revenge, for which no means are too venomous, too underhand, too underground and too petty,—I call it the one immortal blemish of mankind.... 230-231

XI

"The Will to Power"

Volume I

All the evidences of what was to be Nietzsche's final and complete philosophical work in four volumes, are contained in two volumes of desultory and often highly condensed notes which were recently issued under the single caption of "The Will to Power" ("Die Wille zur Macht"). On this culminating work Nietzsche had laboured from 1883 until his final breakdown. He made two plans for "The Will to Power"—one in 1886 and the other in 1887. As the 1887 plan was the one ultimately adhered to, there seems no reason to hesitate about accepting it as the right one. The titles of the four books which comprised this final work as it stands to-day are "European Nihilism," "A Criticism of the Highest Values that Have Prevailed Hitherto," "The Principles of a New Valuation" and "Discipline and Breeding." These headings are according to the last plan made at Nice in 1887, and although, as I stated in the preceding chapter, there was some hesitation between the general title of "The Will to Power" and "The Transvaluation of All Values," "The Antichrist," which fell under the latter heading, must not be considered as forming a part of "The Will to Power." However, "The Antichrist" and also "Beyond Good and Evil," "The Genealogy of Morals" and "The Twilight of the Idols," are closely related in thought to "The Will to Power." This fact is borne out not only by internal evidence, by the manner in which the books overlap, and by the constant redistribution of titles which sometimes prove the unity of the last phase of his thought, but also by the testimony of those who had Nietzsche's confidence and could watch him at close quarters.

Nietzsche intended to embody in the four books of "The Will to Power" the entire sweep of his philosophical teachings. This work was to be a summary, not only in statement but also in analysis, of his ethical system. His preceding books had been replete in repetitions, and lacked both organisation and sequence. His health was such that he could work only sporadically and in short shifts, with the result that he was constantly trying to crowd an enormous amount of material into a short space. He was able to deal with but one point at a time, and, as his working period was frequently too short to develop that point as fully as he desired, we find him constantly going back over old ground, altering his syllogisms, making addenda, interpolating analogies, and in numerous other ways changing and clarifying what he had previously written. "The Will to Power" was to be, then, a colossal organisation of all his writings, with every step intact, and every conclusion in its place. And throughout the four volumes emphasis was to be put on his motivating doctrine, the will to power, an oppositional theory to Darwin's theory of struggle for mere existence. But although we have two large volumes of notes, these jottings lack in a large degree the co-ordination which would have characterised them had Nietzsche been able to carry out his plan.

The notes of these two books are the work of many years, and the putting together of them for publication has been done without any attempt to alter their original text. They are just as Nietzsche left them—in some cases completed and closely argued paragraphs, in others mere notations and memoranda, elliptic and unelaborated. It is possible, however, to gain a very adequate idea of what was to be the contents of this final work, due to the copiousness of the material at hand. From the time of finishing "Thus Spake Zarathustra" to 1889, Nietzsche was constantly making notes for his great work, and there is no phase of his thought which is not touched upon in these two remaining volumes. By following their pages closely, in the light of his foregoing works, one gets a very definite impression of the synthesis of his thoughts. Especially true is this of the second volume of "The Will to Power," for it is here that his cardinal doctrine is most strongly and consistently emphasised and its relationship to all human relationships most concisely drawn. Because of this fact I have chosen to consider the two volumes separately. The first volume is full of material more or less familiar to those who have followed Nietzsche in his earlier works. The notes are, in the majority of cases, elaborations and explanations of doctrines contained in those books which followed "Thus Spake Zarathustra." As such they are important.

The first volume is divided into two sections—"European Nihilism" and "A Criticism of the Highest Values that Have Prevailed Hitherto." Two subdivisions are found under section one—"Nihilism" and "Concerning the History of European Nihilism." In this first subdivision Nietzsche defines Nihilism and attempts to trace its origin. He states that it is an outcome of the valuations and interpretations of existence which have formerly prevailed, namely: the result of the doctrines of Christianity. For our adherence to Christian morality, Nietzsche says, we must pay dearly: by this adherence we are losing our equilibrium and are on the verge of adopting opposite valuations—those consisting of Nihilistic elements. He defines the Nihilistic movement as an expression of decadence, and declares that this decadence is spreading throughout all our modern institutions. Under his second subdivision, he explains that modern gloominess is a result of the "slow advance and rise of the middle and lower classes," and asserts that this gloominess is accompanied by moral hypocrisy and the decadent virtues of sympathy and pity. In this connection he denies that the nineteenth century shows an improvement over the sixteenth. No better analysis of the effects of Christian morality on modern man is to be found in any of Nietzsche's writings than in this treatise of Nihilism; and a close study of this analysis will greatly help one in grasping the full significance of the doctrine of the will to power. Although the notes in this book are the least satisfactory of all the portions of "The Will to Power," being both tentative and incomplete, I have been able to select enough definite statements from them to give an adequate idea of both Nietzsche's theories and conclusions in regard to Nihilism.

In the second section of Volume I, "A Criticism of the Highest Values That Have Prevailed Hitherto," the notes are fuller and more closely organised. This is due to the fact that the ground covered by them is in the main the same ground covered by "The Antichrist," "The Genealogy of Morals" and "Beyond Good and Evil." In fact, there is in these notes much repetition of passages to be found in the three previous volumes. The first subdivision of this second section is called "Criticism of Religion," and there is little material in it which does not appear in "The Antichrist." Even in the manner of expression there exists so strong a similarity that I am inclined to think Nietzsche used these notes in composing his famous philippic against Christianity. Consequently I have made but few quotations from this division, choosing in each instance only such passages as do not possess a direct parallel in his earlier work. We find here the same inquiry into the origin of religions, the same analysis of Christian ideals, the same history of Christian doctrines, and the same argument against the dissemination of Christian faiths as are contained in "The Antichrist." However, these present notes are sufficiently different from this previous book to interest the thorough student, and there are occasional speculations advanced which are not to be encountered elsewhere in Nietzsche's writings. For the casual reader, however, there is little of new interest in this subdivision.

The same criticism holds true to a large extent when we come to the second subdivision of the second section "A Criticism of Morality." In "The Genealogy of Morals" we have a discussion of practically all the subjects considered in the present notes, such as the origin of moral valuations, the basis of conscience, the influence of the herd, the dominance of virtue, the slander of the so-called evil man, and the significance of such words as "improving" and "elevating." However, there is sufficient new material in these notes to warrant a reading, for although, despite a few exceptions, there are no new issues posed, certain points which were put forth only in a speculative and abridged manner in earlier books, are here enlarged upon. This is especially true in regard to the doctrine of rank. Nietzsche has been accused of advocating only an individualistic morality. But the truth is that he advanced two codes. He preached a morality for the herd, a definite system which suited the needs of the serving classes. For the superior individuals, on the other hand, he taught another code, one which fitted and met the needs of the rulers. The herd morality has always sought to create and maintain a single type of mediocre man. Nietzsche preached the necessity of the superior, as well as the inferior, type of man; and in his present notes he goes into this doctrine more fully than heretofore. Furthermore, he makes clear his stand in regard to the weak. On page 291 he states, "I have declared war against the anæmic Christian ideal (together with what is closely related to it), not because I want to annihilate it, but only to put an end to its tyranny and clear the way for other ideals, for more robust ideals." It has been stated, even in quarters where we have a right to look for more intelligent criticism, that Nietzsche favoured the complete elimination of the weak and incompetent. No such advocacy is to be found in his teachings. To the contrary, as will be seen from the above quotation, he preached only against the dominance of the weak. He resented their supremacy over the intelligent man. Their existence, he maintained, was a most necessary thing. This belief is insisted upon in many places, and one should bear the point in mind when reading the criticisms of socialism to be found throughout the present volume.

Another new point to be found in these notes relates to the immoral methods used by the disseminators of morals. From the passages in which these new points are raised I have taken the quotations which follow at the end of this chapter.

In the third and last subdivision of this second section, "Criticism of Philosophy," we have an extension of Chapter I in "Beyond Good and Evil," "Prejudices of Philosophers," and of the two chapters in "The Twilight of the Idols"—"The Problem of Socrates" and "Reason' in Philosophy." The notes (excepting a few pages of general remarks) occupy themselves with a criticism of Greek philosophy and with an analysis of philosophical truths and errors. These notes touch only indirectly on Nietzsche's doctrines, and may be looked upon as explanations of his intellectual methods.

Despite their fragmentariness, the notes in this volume, as I have said, permit one to gain an adequate idea of Nietzsche's purpose. In making my excerpts from this book, I have chosen those passages which will throw new light upon his philosophy rather than those statements of conclusions which have been previously encountered.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE WILL TO POWER" volume I

What does Nihilism mean?—That the highest values are losing their value. 8

Thorough Nihilism is the conviction that life is absurd, in the light of the highest values already discovered; it also includes the view that we have not the smallest right to assume the existence of transcendental objects or things in themselves, which would be either divine or morality incarnate.

This view is the result of fully developed "truthfulness": therefore a consequence of the belief in morality. 8

Moral valuations are condemnations, negations; morality is the abdication of the will to live. 12

All values with which we have tried, hitherto, to lend the world some worth, from our point of view, and with which we have therefore deprived it of all worth (once these values have been shown to be inapplicable)—all these values, are, psychologically, the results of certain views of utility, established for the purpose of maintaining and increasing the dominion of certain communities: but falsely projected into the nature of things. It is always man's exaggerated ingenuousness to regard himself as the sense and measure of all things. 15

Every purely moral valuation (as, for instance, the Buddhistic) terminates in Nihilism: Europe must expect the same thing! It is supposed that one can get along with a morality bereft of a religious background; but in this direction the road to Nihilism is opened. 19

Nihilism is not only a meditating over the "in vain"—not only the belief that everything deserves to perish; but one actually puts one's shoulder to the plough; one destroys. 22

The time is coming when we shall have to pay for having been Christians for two thousand years: we are losing the equilibrium which enables us to live—for a long while we shall not know in what direction we are travelling. We are hurling ourselves headlong into the opposite valuations, with that degree of energy which could only have been engendered in man by an overvaluation of himself.

Now, everything is false from the root, words and nothing but words, confused, feeble, or overstrained. 25

Modern Pessimism is an expression of the uselessness only of the modern world, not of the world and existence as such. 29

The "preponderance of pain over pleasure" or the reverse (Hedonism); both of these doctrines are already signposts to Nihilism....

For here, in both cases, no other final purpose is sought than the phenomenon pleasure or pain. 29

"Life is not worth living"; "Resignation"; "what is the good of tears?"—this is a feeble and sentimental attitude of mind. 29-30

People have not yet seen what is so terribly obvious—namely, that Pessimism is not a problem but a symptom,—that the term ought to be replaced by "Nihilism,"—that the question, "to be or not to be," is itself an illness, a sign of degeneracy, an idiosyncrasy.

The Nihilistic movement is only an expression of physiological decadence. 32

Decay, decline, and waste, are, per se, in no way open to objection; they are the natural consequences of life and vital growth. The phenomenon of decadence is just as necessary to life as advance or progress is: we are not in a position which enables us to suppress it. On the contrary, reason would have it retain its rights.

It is disgraceful on the part of socialist-theorists to argue that circumstances and social combinations could be devised which would put an end to all vice, illness, crime, prostitution, and poverty.... But that is tantamount to condemning Life. 33

Decadence itself is not a thing that can be withstood: it is absolutely necessary and is proper to all ages and all peoples. That which must be withstood, and by all means in our power, is the spreading of the contagion among the sound parts of the organism. 33-34

All those things which heretofore have been regarded as the causes of degeneration, are really its effects. 34

If Nature have no pity on the degenerate, it is not therefore immoral: the growth of physiological and moral evils in the human race, is rather the result of morbid and unnatural morality. 44

The whole of our sociology knows no other instinct than that of the herd, i.e., of a multitude of mere ciphers—of which every cipher has "equal rights," and where it is a virtue to be—naught. 45

Nihilism is a sign that the botched and bungled have no longer any consolation, that they destroy in order to be destroyed, that, having been deprived of morality, they no longer have any reason to "resign themselves," that they take up their stand on the territory of the opposite principle, and will also exercise power themselves, by compelling the powerful to become their hangmen. 52

Our age, with its indiscriminate endeavours to mitigate distress, to honour it, and to wage war in advance with unpleasant possibilities, is an age of the poor. 57

Overwork, curiosity and sympathy—our modern vices. 64

Christianity, revolution, the abolition of slavery, equal rights, philanthropy, love of peace, justice, truth: all these big words are only valuable in a struggle, as banners: not as realities, but as showwords, for something quite different (yea, even quite opposed to what they mean!). 68

The nineteenth century shows no advance whatever on the sixteenth: and the German spirit of 1888 is an example of a backward movement when compared with that of 1788.... Mankind does not advance, it does not even exist. The aspect of the whole is much more like that of a huge experimenting workshop where some things in all ages succeed, while an incalculable number of things fail; where all order, logic, co-ordination, and responsibility is lacking. How dare we blink the fact that the rise of Christianity is a decadent movement?—that the German Reformation was a recrudescence of Christian barbarism?—that the Revolution destroyed the instinct for an organisation of society on a large scale?... Man is not an example of progress as compared with animals: the tender son of culture is an abortion compared with the Arab or the Corsican; the Chinaman is a more successful type—that is to say, richer in sustaining power than the European. 72-73

I know best why man is the only animal that laughs: he alone suffers so excruciatingly that he was compelled to invent laughter. The unhappiest and most melancholy animal is, as might have been expected, the most cheerful. 74

Socialism—or the tyranny of the meanest and the most brainless,—that is to say, the superficial, the envious, and the mummers, brought to its zenith,—is, as a matter of fact, the logical conclusion of "modern ideas" and their latent anarchy: but in the genial atmosphere of democratic well-being the capacity for forming resolutions or even for coming to an end at all, is paralysed. Men will follow—but no longer their reason. That is why socialism is on the whole a hopelessly bitter affair: and there is nothing more amusing than to observe the discord between the poisonous and desperate faces of present-day socialists—and what wretched and nonsensical feelings does not their style reveal to us!—and the childish lamblike happiness of their hopes and desires. 102

This is the teaching which life itself preaches to all living things: the morality of Development. To have and to wish to have more, in a word, Growth—that is life itself. In the teaching of socialism "a will to the denial of life" is but poorly concealed: botched men and races they must be who have devised a teaching of this sort. 102

Spiritual enlightenment is an unfailing means of making men uncertain, weak of will, and needful of succour and support; in short, of developing the herding instincts in them. 105

When the feeling of power suddenly seizes and overwhelms a man,—and this takes place in the case of all the great passions,—a doubt arises in him concerning his own person: he dare not think himself the cause of this astonishing sensation—and thus he posits a stronger person, a Godhead as its cause, 114-115

Religion has lowered the concept "man"; its ultimate conclusion is that all goodness, greatness, and truth are superhuman, and are only obtainable by the grace of God. 116

In short: what is the price paid for the improvement supposed to be due to morality?—The unhinging of reason, the reduction of all motives to fear and hope (punishment and reward); dependence upon the tutelage of priests, and upon a formulary exactitude which is supposed to express a divine will; the implantation of a "conscience" which establishes a false science in the place of experience and experiment: as though all one had to do or had not to do were predetermined—a kind of contraction of the seeking and striving spirit;—in short: the worst mutilation of man that can be imagined, and it is pretended that "the good man" is the result. 122-123

Paganism is that which says yea to all that is natural, it is innocence in being natural, "naturalness." Christianity is that which says no to all that is natural, it is a certain lack of dignity in being natural; hostility to Nature. 127

Christianity is a degenerative movement, consisting of all kinds of decaying and excremental elements: it is not the expression of the downfall of a race, it is, from the root, an agglomeration of all the morbid elements which are mutually attractive and which gravitate to one another.

It is therefore not a national religion, not determined by race: it appeals to the disinherited everywhere; it consists of a foundation of resentment against all that is successful and dominant: it is in need of a symbol which represents the damnation of everything successful and dominant. It is opposed to every form of intellectual movement, to all philosophy: it takes up the cudgels for idiots, and utters a curse upon all intellect. Resentment against those who are gifted, learned, intellectually independent: in all these it suspects the element of success and domination. 130

All Christian "truth," is idle falsehood and deception, and is precisely the reverse of that which was at the bottom of the first Christian movement. 133

To be really Christian would mean to be absolutely indifferent to dogmas, cults, priests, church, and theology. 133

A God who died for our sins, salvation through faith, resurrection after death—all these things are the counterfeit coins of real-Christianity, for which that pernicious blockhead Paul must be held responsible. 138

Christianity has, from the first, always transformed the symbolical into crude realities:

(1) The antitheses "true life" and "false life" were misunderstood and changed into "life here" and "life beyond."

(2) The notion "eternal life," as opposed to the personal life which is ephemeral, is translated into "personal immortality";

(3) The process of fraternising by means of sharing the same food and drink, after the Hebrew-Arabian manner, is interpreted as the "miracle of transubstantiation."

(4) "Resurrection" which was intended to mean the entrance to the "true life," in the sense of being intellectually "born again," becomes an historical contingency, supposed to take place at some moment after death;

(5) The teaching of the Son of man as the "Son of God,"—that is to say, the life-relationship between man and God,—becomes the "second person of the Trinity," and thus the filial relationship of every man—even the lowest—to God, is done away with;

(6) Salvation through faith (that is to say, that there is no other way to this filial relationship to God save through the practice of life taught by Christ) becomes transformed into the belief that there is a miraculous way of atoning for all sin; though not through our own endeavours, but by means of Christ:

For all these purposes, "Christ on the Cross" had to be interpreted afresh. The death itself would certainly not be the principal feature of the event ... it was only another sign pointing to the way in which one should behave towards the authorities and the laws of the world —that one was not to defend oneself—this was the exemplary life. 139-140

The Gospel is the announcement that the road to happiness lies open for the lowly and the poor—that all one has to do is to emancipate one's self from all institutions, traditions, and the tutelage of the higher classes. Thus Christianity is no more than the typical teaching of Socialists.

Property, acquisitions, mother-country, status and rank, tribunals, the police, the State, the Church, Education, Art, militarism: all these are so many obstacles in the way of happiness, so many mistakes, snares, and devil's artifices, on which the Gospel passes sentence—all this is typical of socialistic doctrines.

Behind all this there is the outburst, the explosion of a concentrated loathing of the "masters"—the instinct which discerns the happiness of freedom after such long oppression. 173-174

Christianity is a denaturalisation of gregarious morality: under the power of the most complete misapprehensions and self-deceptions. Democracy is a more natural form of it, and less sown with falsehood. It is a fact that the oppressed, the low, and whole mob of slaves and half-castes, will prevail.

First step: they make themselves free—they detach themselves, at first in fancy only; they recognise each other; they make themselves paramount.

Second step: they enter the lists, they demand acknowledgment, equal rights, "Justice."

Third step: they demand privileges (they draw the representatives of power over to their side).

Fourth step: they alone want all power, and they have it. 177

When and where has any man, of any note at all, resembled the Christian ideal?—at least in the eyes of those who are psychologists and triers of the heart and reins. Look at all Plutarch's heroes! 180

The higher man distinguishes himself from the lower by his fearlessness and his readiness to challenge misfortune: it is a sign of degeneration when eudemonistic values begin to prevail (physiological fatigue and enfeeblement of will-power). Christianity, with its prospect of "blessedness," is the typical attitude of mind of a suffering and impoverished species of man. Abundant strength will be active, will suffer, and will go under. 182

All ideals are dangerous; because they lower and brand realities; they are all poisons. 183

These "conditions of salvation" of which the Christian is conscious are merely variations of the same diseased state—the interpretation of an attack of epilepsy by means of a particular formula which is provided, not by science, but by religious mania. 190

A pang of conscience in a man is a sign that his character is not yet equal to his deed. There is such a thing as a pang of conscience after good deeds: in this case it is their unfamiliarity, their incompatibility with an old environment. 192

We immoralists prefer to disbelieve in "faults." We believe that all deeds, of what kind soever, are identically the same at root; just as deeds which turn against us may be useful from an economical point of view, and even generally desirable. In certain individual cases, we admit that we might well have been spared a given action; the circumstances alone predisposed us in its favour. Which of us, if favoured by circumstances, would not already have committed every possible crime?... That is why, one should never say: "Thou shouldst never have done such and such a thing," but only: "How strange it is that I have not done such and such a thing hundreds of times already!"—As a matter of fact, only a very small number of acts are typical acts and real epitomes of a personality, and seeing what a small number of people really are personalities, a single act very rarely characterises a man. Acts are mostly dictated by circumstances; they are superficial or merely reflex movements performed in response to a stimulus, long before the depths of our beings are affected or consulted in the matter. 192-193.

Experience teaches us that, in every case in which a man has elevated himself to any great extent above the average of his fellows, every high degree of power always involves a corresponding degree of freedom from Good and Evil as also from "true" and "false," and cannot take into account what goodness dictates. 200

What is Christian "virtue" and "love of men," if not precisely this mutual assistance with a view to survival, this solidarity of the weak, this thwarting of selection? What is Christian altruism, if it is not the mob-egotism of the weak which divines that, if everybody looks after everybody else, every individual will be preserved for a longer period of time?... He who does not consider this attitude of mind as immoral, as a crime against life, himself belongs to the sickly crowd, and also shares their instincts.... Genuine love of mankind exacts sacrifice for the good of the species—it is hard, full of self-control, because it needs human sacrifices. 203

What deserves the most rigorous condemnation, is the ambiguous and cowardly infirmity of purpose of a religion like Christianity,—or rather like the Church,—which, instead of recommending death and self-destruction, actually protects all the botched and bungled, and encourages them to propagate their kind. 204

Let us see what the "genuine Christian" does of all the things which his instincts forbid him to do:—he covers beauty, pride, riches, self-reliance, brilliancy, knowledge, and power with suspicion and mud—in short, all culture: his object is to deprive the latter of its clean conscience. 200

What is it we combat in Christianity? That it aims at destroying the strong, at breaking their spirit, at exploiting their moments of weariness and debility, at converting their proud assurance into anxiety and conscience-trouble; that it knows how to poison the noblest instincts and to infect them with disease, until their strength, their will to power, turns inwards, against themselves—until the strong perish through their excessive self-contempt and self-immolation. 209

All virtues should be looked upon as physiological conditions. 213

Formerly it was said of every form of morality, "Ye shall know them by their fruits." I say of every form of morality: "It is a fruit, and from it I learn the Soil out of which it grew." 214

My leading doctrine is this: there are no moral phenomena, but only a moral interpretation of phenomena. The origin of this interpretation itself lies beyond the pale of morality. 214

The whole of morality of Europe is based upon the values which are useful to the herd. 228

The herd regards the exception, whether it be above or beneath its general level, as something which is antagonistic and dangerous to itself. Their trick in dealing with the exceptions above them, the strong, the mighty, the wise, and the fruitful, is to persuade them to become guardians, herdsmen, and watchmen—in fact, to become their head-servants: thus they convert a danger into a thing which is useful. 231

My teaching is this, that the herd seeks to maintain and preserve one type of man, and that it defends itself on two sides—that is to say, against those which are decadents from its ranks (criminals, etc.), and against those who rise superior to its dead level. 236

My philosophy aims at a new order of rank: not at an individualistic morality. The spirit of the herd should rule within the herd—but not beyond it: the leaders of the herd require a fundamentally different valuation for their actions. 237

Conscience condemns an action because that action has been condemned for a long period of time: all conscience does is to imitate: it does not create values. That which first led to the condemnation of certain actions, was not conscience: but the knowledge of (or the prejudice against) its consequences.... The approbation of conscience, the feeling of well-being, of "inner peace," is of the same order of emotions as the artist's joy over his work—it proves nothing. 242

By what means does a virtue attain to power?—With precisely the same means as a political party: slander, suspicion, the undermining of opposing virtues that happen to be already in power, the changing of their names, systematic persecution and scorn; in short, by means of acts of general "immorality." 252

Cruelty has become transformed and elevated into tragic pity, so that we no longer recognise it as such. The same has happened to the love of the sexes which has become amour-passion; the slavish attitude of mind appears as Christian obedience; wretchedness becomes humility; the disease of the nervus sympathicus, for instance, is eulogised as Pessimism, Pascalism, or Carlylism, etc. 253

The qualities which constitute the strength of an opposing race or class are declared to be the most evil and pernicious things it has: for by means of them it may be harmful to us. 255

I recognise virtue in that: (1) it does not insist upon being recognised; (2) it does not presuppose the existence of virtue everywhere, but precisely something else; (3) it does not suffer from the absence of virtue, but regards it rather as a relation of perspective which throws virtue into relief: it does not proclaim itself; (4) it makes no propaganda; (5) it allows no one to pose as judge because it is always a personal virtue; (6) it does precisely what is generally forbidden: virtue as I understand it is the actual vetitum within all gregarious legislation; (7) in short, I recognise virtue in that it is in the Renaissance style—virtu—free from all moralic acid. 258

Lust of property, lust of power, laziness, simplicity, fear; all these things are interested in virtue; that is why it stands so securely. 261

Vice is a somewhat arbitrary epitome of certain effects resulting from physiological degeneracy. A general proposition such as that which Christianity teaches, namely, "Man is evil," would be justified provided one were justified in regarding a given type of degenerate man as normal. But this may be an exaggeration. Of course, wherever Christianity prospers and prevails, the proposition holds good: for then the existence of an unhealthy soil—of a degenerate territory—is demonstrated. 269

It is difficult to have sufficient respect for man, when one sees how he understands the art of fighting his way, of enduring, of turning circumstances to his own advantage, and of overthrowing opponents; but when he is seen in the light of his desires, he is the most absurd of all animals. 269

As to the whole socialistic ideal: it is nothing but a blockheaded misunderstanding of the Christian moral ideal. 275

An ideal which is striving to prevail or to assert itself endeavours to further its purpose (a) by laying claim to a spurious origin; (b) by assuming a relationship between itself and the powerful ideals already existing; (c) by means of the thrill produced by mystery, as though an unquestionable power were manifesting itself; (d) by the slander of its opponents' ideals; (e) by a lying teaching of the advantages which follow in its wake, for instance: happiness, spiritual peace, general peace, or even the assistance of a mighty God. 278

My view: all the forces and instincts which are the source of life are lying beneath the ban of morality: morality is the life-denying instinct. Morality must be annihilated if life is to be emancipated. 278

Every one's desire is that there should be no other teaching and valuation of things than those by means of which he himself succeeds. Thus the fundamental tendency of the weak and mediocre of all times, has been to enfeeble the strong and to reduce them to the level of the weak: their chief weapon in this process was the moral principle. The attitude of the strong towards the weak is branded as evil; the highest states of the strong become bad bywords. 279

Every small community (or individual), finding itself involved in a struggle, strives to convince itself of this: "Good taste, good judgment, and virtue are ours." War urges people to this exaggerated self-esteem. 281

Whatever kind of eccentric ideal one may have (whether as a "Christian," a "free-spirit," an "immoralist," or a German Imperialist), one should try to avoid insisting upon its being the ideal; for, by so doing, it is deprived of all its privileged nature. One should have an ideal as a distinction; one should not propagate it, and thus level one's self down to the rest of mankind. 281

Real heroism consists, not in fighting under the banner of self-sacrifice, submission and disinterestedness, but in not fighting at all.... "I am thus: I will be thus—and you can go to the devil!" 282

Modest, industrious, benevolent, and temperate: thus you would that men were?—that good men were? But such men I can only conceive as slaves, the slaves of the future. 289

Industry, modesty, benevolence, temperance, are just so many obstacles in the way of sovereign sentiments, of great ingenuity, of an heroic purpose, of noble existence for one's self. 290

I have declared war against the anæmic Christian ideal (together with what is closely related to it), not because I want to annihilate it, but only to put an end to its tyranny and clear the way for other ideals, for more robust ideals. 291

If one does good merely out of pity, it is one's self and not one's neighbour that one is succouring. 294

"One is continually promoting the interests of one's 'ego' at the cost of other people"; "Living consists in living at the cost of others"—he who has not grasped this fact, has not taken the first step towards truth to himself. 294

A morality and a religion of "love," the curbing of the self-affirming spirit, and a doctrine encouraging patience, resignation, helpfulness, and co-operation in word and deed may be of the highest value within the confines of such classes, even in the eyes of their rulers: for it restrains the feelings of rivalry, of resentment, and of envy,—feelings which are only too natural in the bungled and the botched,—and it even deifies them under the ideal of humility, of obedience, of slave-life, of being-ruled, of poverty, of illness, and of lowliness. This explains why the ruling classes (or races) and individuals of all ages have always upheld the cult of unselfishness, the gospel of the lowly and of "God on the Cross." 296

The hatred of egoism, whether it be one's own (as in the case of the Socialists) appears as a valuation reached under the predominance of revenge; and also as an act of prudence on the part of the preservative instinct of the suffering, in the form of an increase in their feelings of co-operation and unity.... At bottom, the discharge of resentment which takes place in the act of judging, rejecting, and punishing egoism (one's own or that of others) is still a self-preservative measure on the part of the bungled and the botched. In short: the cult of altruism is merely a particular form of egoism, which regularly appears under certain definite physiological circumstances.

When the Socialist, with righteous indignation, cries for "justice," "rights," "equal rights," it only shows that he is oppressed by his inadequate culture, and is unable to understand why he suffers: he also finds pleasure in crying;—if he were more at ease he would take jolly good care not to cry in that way: in that case he would seek his pleasure elsewhere. The same holds good of the Christian: he curses, condemns, and slanders the "world"—and does not even except himself. But that is no reason for taking him seriously. In both cases we are in the presence of invalids who feel better for crying, and who find relief in slander. 298

I value a man according to the quantum of power and fulness of his will; not according to the enfeeblement and moribund state thereof. I consider that a philosophy which teaches the denial of will is both defamatory and slanderous.... I test the power of a will according to the amount of resistance it can offer and the amount of pain and torture it can endure and know how to turn to its own advantage; I do not point to the evil and pain of existence with the finger of reproach, but rather entertain the hope that life may one day be more evil and more full of suffering than it has ever been. 304

My ultimate conclusion is, that the real man represents a much higher value than the "desirable" man of any ideal that has ever existed hitherto; that all "desiderata" in regard to mankind have been absurd and dangerous dissipations by means of which a particular kind of man has sought to establish his measures of preservation and of growth as a law for all; that every "desideratum" of this kind which has been made to dominate has reduced man's worth, his strength, and his trust in the future; that the indigence and mediocre intellectuality of man becomes most apparent, even to-day, when he reveals a desire; that man's ability to fix values has hitherto been developed too inadequately to do justice to the actual, not merely to the "desirable," worth of man; that, up to the present, ideals have really been the power which has most slandered man and power, the poisonous fumes which have hung over reality, and which have seduced men to yearn for nonentity.... 311

One must be very immoral in order to make people moral by deeds. The moralist's means are the most terrible that have ever been used; he who has not the courage to be an immoralist in deeds may be fit for anything else, but not for the duties of a moralist. 314

The priests of all ages have always pretended that they wished to "improve.. ... But we, of another persuasion, would laugh if a lion-tamer ever wished to speak to us of his "improved" animals. As a rule, the taming of a beast is only achieved by deteriorating it: even the moral man is not a better man; he is rather a weaker member of his species. 319

Up to the present, morality has developed at the cost of: the ruling classes and their specific instincts, the well-constituted and beautiful natures, the independent and privileged classes in all respects.

Morality, then, is a sort of counter-movement opposing Nature's endeavours to arrive at a higher type. Its effects are: mistrust of life in general (in so far as its tendencies are felt to be immoral),—hostility towards the senses (inasmuch as the highest values are felt to be opposed to the higher instincts).—Degeneration and self-destruction of "higher natures," because it is precisely in them that the conflict becomes conscious. 321

Suppose the strong were masters in all respects, even in valuing: let us try and think what their attitude would be towards illness, suffering, and sacrifice. Self-contempt on the part of the weak would be the result: they would do their utmost to disappear and to extirpate their kind. And would this be desirable?—should we really like a world in which the subtlety, the consideration, the intellectuality, the plasticity—in fact, the whole influence of the weak—was lacking? ... 323

Under "Spiritual freedom" I understand something very definite: it is a state in which one is a hundred times superior to philosophers and other disciples of "truth" in one's severity towards one's self, in one's uprightness, in one's courage, and in one's absolute will to say nay even when it is dangerous to say nay. I regard the philosophers that have appeared heretofore as contemptible libertines hiding behind the petticoats of the female "Truth." 384

XII

"The Will to Power"

Volume II

The second volume of "The Will to Power," even in its present fragmentary form, is the most important of Nietzsche's works. It draws together under one cover many of the leading doctrines voiced in his principal constructive books, and in addition states them in terms of his fundamental postulate—the will to power. In Volume I of this work we had the application of this doctrine to morality, religion and philosophy. In the present book it is applied to science, nature, society, breeding and art. The notes are more analytical than in the former volume; and the subject-matter is in itself of greater importance, being more directly concerned with the exposition of Nietzsche's main theory. Volume II is also fuller and more homogeneous, and contains much new material. So compact is its organisation that one is able to gain a very adequate idea of the purpose which animated Nietzsche at the time of making these notes.

The will to power, the principle which Nietzsche held to be the elementary expression of life, must be understood in order for one to comprehend the Nietzschean system of ethics. Throughout all the books which followed "The Joyful Wisdom" we have indirect references to it and conclusions based on its assumption as a hypothesis. And, although it was never definitely and finally defined until the publication of the notes comprising "The Will to Power," it nevertheless was the actuating motive in all Nietzsche's constructive writings. Simply stated, the will to power is the biological instinct to maintenance, persistence and development. Nietzsche holds that Darwin's universal law of the instinct to mere survival is a misinterpretation of the forces at work in life. He points out that existence is a condition—a medium of action—and by no means an end. It is true that only the fittest survive in nature as a result of the tendency to exist; but this theory does not account for the activities which take place after existence has been assured. In order to explain these activities Nietzsche advances the theory of the will to power and tests all actions by it. It will be seen that by this theory the universal law of Darwin is by no means abrogated, but rather is it explained and developed.

In the operation of Darwin's biological law there are many forces at work. That is to say, once the fact of existence is established, numerous forces can be found at work within the limits of existence. We know that the forces of nature—acting within the medium of existence which is an a priori condition—are rarely unified and directed toward the same result. In short, they are not reciprocal. To the contrary, they work more often against each other—they are antagonistic. Immediately a war of forces takes place; and it is this war that constitutes all action in nature. A force in nature directed at another force calls forth a resistance and counter-force; and this instinct to act and to resist is in itself a will to act. Otherwise, inertia would be the condition of life, once mere existence was assured by the fittest. But life is not inert. Even when certain organisms have accomplished the victory for existence, and are no longer moved by a necessity to struggle for mere being, the will to action persists; and this will to action, according to Nietzsche, is the will for power, for in every clash of forces, there is an attempt on the part of each force to overcome and resist the antagonistic one. The greater the action, the greater the antagonism. Hence, this tendency in all forces to persist is at bottom a tendency of self-assertion, of overcoming counter-forces, of augmenting individual power. Wherever this will to persist is found, Nietzsche argues that the will to act is present; and there can be no will to act without a will to power, because the very desire for existence and development is a desire for power.

This, in brief, is Nietzsche's doctrine applied to the organic and inorganic world. In its application to the ideological world, the reasoning is not changed. In ideas Nietzsche finds this same will to power. But in them it is the reflection of the principle inherent in the material world. There is no will inherent in ideas. This assumption of a reflected will to power in the ideological world is one of Nietzsche's most important concepts, for it makes all ideas the outgrowth of ourselves, and therefore dependent on natural laws. It does away with the conception of supernatural power and with the old philosophical belief that ideas are superior forces to those of the organic and inorganic world. Nietzsche once and for all disposes of the theory that there is anything more powerful than force, and by thus doing away with this belief, he rationalises all ideas and puts thought on a tangible and stable basis. In the opening section of the present book where he applies the will to power to scientific research, the whole of this new theory is made clear, and I advise the student to read well this section, for I have been unable to present as clear and complete an expositional statement of it in Nietzsche's own words as I would have liked to do, owing to the close and interrelated manner in which these notes were written.

Volume II of "The Will to Power" is in two books. The first is called "The Principles of a New Valuation"; the second, "Discipline and Breeding." The first book is divided into four sections—"The Will to Power in Science," "The Will to Power in Nature," "The Will to Power as Exemplified in Society and in the Individual" and "The Will to Power in Art." The second book has three divisions—"The Order of Rank," "Dionysus" and "Eternal Recurrence." Of the first section of Book One, "The Will to Power in Science," I have already spoken. In this section Nietzsche shows how arbitrary a thing science is, and how closely related are its conclusions to the instinct of the scientists, namely: the instinct of the will to power. Scientists, he holds, are confronted by the necessity of translating all phenomena into terms compatible with the struggle for persistence and maintenance. A fact in nature unaccounted for is a danger, an obstacle to the complete mastery of natural conditions. Consequently the scientist, directed and influenced by his will to power, invents explanations which will bring all facts under his jurisdiction and control, and will thereby increase his feeling of power. As a result, the great facts of life are looked upon as of secondary importance to their explanations, and science becomes, not an intelligent search for knowledge, but a system of interpretations tending to increase the feeling of mastery in the men directly connected with it. Thus the law of the will to power, as manifest in the organic and inorganic world, becomes the dominating instinct in the ideological world as well.

It is well to speak here of truth as Nietzsche conceived it. We have seen how he denied its absolutism and declared it to be relative. But in his present work he goes further and contends that the feeling of the increase of power is the determining factor in truth. If, as we have seen, the "truths" of science are merely those interpretations which grow out of the scientists' will to power, then truth itself must be the outgrowth of this instinct. That which makes for the growth and development of the individual—or in other words, that which increases the feeling of strength—is necessarily the truth. From this it is easy to deduce the conclusion that in many instances truth is a reversal of facts, for preservation very often consists in an adherence to actual falsity. Thus, the false causality of certain phenomena—the outcome of logic engendered by a will to power—has not infrequently masqueraded as truth. Nietzsche holds that this doctrine contains the only possible definition of truth; and in this doctrine we find an explanation for many of the apparent paradoxes in his teachings when the matter of truth and falsity are under discussion.

The second part of the first book relates to the will to power in nature, and contains the most complete and lucid explanation of Nietzsche's basic theory to be found anywhere in his writings. This section opens with an argument against a purely mechanical interpretation of the world, and a refutation of the physicists' concept of "energy." The chemical and physical laws, the atomic theory and the mechanical concept of movement, he characterises as "inventions" on the part of scientists and researchers for the purpose of understanding natural phenomena and therefore of increasing their feeling of power. The apparent sequence of phenomena which constitutes "law" is, according to Nietzsche, only a "relation of power between two or more forces"—a matter of interdependence, a process wherein the "procession of moments do not determine each other after the manner of cause and effect." In these observations we see the process of reasoning with which Nietzsche refutes the current methods of ascertaining facts and the manner in which he introduces the principle of will to power into the phenomena of nature.

It is in this section that Nietzsche discusses at length the points of divergence between his life principle and that of Darwin. And it is here also that he treats of the psychology of pleasure and pain in their relation to the will to power. This latter statement is of great importance in an understanding of the instincts of life as he taught them, for it denies both pleasure and pain a place in the determining of acts. They are both, according to him, but accompanying factors, never causes, and are but second-rate valuations derived from a dominating value. He denies that man struggles for happiness. To the contrary, he holds that all expansion and growth and resistance—in short, all movement—is related to states of pain, and that, although the modern man is master of the forces of nature and of himself, he is no happier than the primeval man. Why, then, does man struggle for knowledge and growth, knowing that it does not bring happiness? Not for existence, because existence is already assured him. But for power, for the feeling of increased mastery. Thus Nietzsche answers the two common explanations of man's will to action—the need for being and the desire for happiness—by his doctrine of the will to power.

The entire teaching of Nietzsche in regard to classes and to the necessity of divergent moral codes to meet the needs of higher and lower castes, is contained in the third part of the first book. Here again he emphasises the need of two codes and makes clear his stand in relation to the superior individual. As I have pointed out in preceding chapters, Nietzsche did not attempt to do away with the morality of the inferior classes. He saw that some such religious belief as Christianity was imperative for them. His fight was against its application to all classes, against its dominance. I mention this point again because it is the basis of the greatest misunderstanding of Nietzsche's philosophy. Part III is written for the higher man, and if this viewpoint is assumed on the part of the reader, there will be no confusion as to doctrines encountered. The statements in this section are in effect similar to those to be found in Nietzsche's previous works, but in every instance in the present case they are directly related to the will to power. Because of this they possess a significance which does not attach to them in antecedent volumes.

The whole of Nietzsche's art theories are to be found in Part IV, "The Will to Power in Art." It is not merely a system of æsthetics that occupies the pages under this section, for Nietzsche never divorces art from life itself; and the artist, according to him, is the superior type, the creator of values. The concepts of beauty and ugliness are the outgrowths of an overflow of Dionysian power; and it is to the great artists of the past, the instinctive higher men, that we owe our current concepts. The principle here is the dominant one in Nietzsche's philosophy in relation to valuing:—to the few individuals of the race are we indebted for the world of values. To the student who wishes to go deeply into Nietzsche's ideas of art and his conception of the artist, and to know in just what manner the Dionysian and Apollonian figure in his theories, I unhesitatingly recommend Anthony M. Ludovici's book, "Nietzsche and Art."

The first section of the second book in this volume contains some of Nietzsche's finest writing. Its title, "The Order of Rank," explains in a large measure what material comprises it. It is a description of the various degrees of man, and a statement of the attributes which belong to each. No better definition of the different classes of men is to be found anywhere in this philosopher's writings. One part is devoted to a consideration of the strong and the weak, and the way in which they react on one another; another part deals with "the noble man" and contains (in Aphorism 943) a list of the characteristics of the noble man, unfortunately too long a list to be quoted in the present chapter; another part defines "the lords of the earth"; another part delineates "the great man," and enumerates his specific qualities; and still another part treats of "the highest man as law-giver of the future." This section, however, is not a mere series of detached and isolated definitions, but an important summary of the ethical code which Nietzsche advanced as a result of his application of the doctrine of the will to power to the order of individual rank.

The two remaining sections—"Dionysus" and "Eternal Recurrence"—are short, and fail to touch on new ground. There are a few robust and heroic passages in the former section which summarise Nietzsche's definitions of Apollonian and Dionysian; but in the latter section there is nothing not found in the pamphlet called "The Eternal Recurrence" and in "Thus Spake Zarathustra." I do not doubt that Nietzsche had every intention of elaborating this last section, for he considered the principle of recurrence a most important one in his philosophy. But, as it stands, it is but a few pages in length and in no way touches upon his other philosophical doctrines. If importance it had in the philosophy of the superman, that importance was never shown either by Nietzsche or by his critics.

However, let us not overlook the importance of the doctrine of the will to power either in its relation to Nietzsche's writings or in its application to ourselves. By this doctrine the philosopher wished to make mankind realise its great dormant power. The insistence on the human basis of all things was no more than a call to arms—an attempt to instil courage in men who had attributed all great phenomena to supernatural forces and had therefore acquiesced before them instead of having endeavoured to conquer them. Nietzsche's object was to make man surer of himself, to infuse him with pride, to imbue him with more daring, to awaken him to a full realisation of his possibilities. This, in brief, is the teaching of the will to power reduced to its immediate influences. In this doctrine is preached a new virility. Not the sedentary virility of compromise, but the virility which is born of struggle and suffering, which is a sign of one's great love of living. Nietzsche offered a new set of vital ideals to supplant the decadent ones which now govern us. Resolute faith, the power of affirmation, initiative, pride, courage and fearlessness—these are the rewards in the exercise of the will to power. The strength of great love and the vitality of great deeds, as well as the possibility of rare and vigorous growth, lie within this doctrine of will. Its object is to give back to us the life we have lost—the life of beauty and plenitude, of strength and exuberance.

EXCERPTS FROM "THE WILL TO POWER" volume II

For hundreds of years, pleasure and pain have been represented as the motives for every action. Upon reflection, however, we are bound to concede that everything would have proceeded in exactly the same way, according to precisely the same sequence of cause and effect, if the states "pleasure" and "pain" had been entirely absent. 8-9

The measure of the desire for knowledge depends upon the extent to which the Will to Power grows in a certain species: a species gets a grasp of a given amount of reality, in order to master it, in order to enlist that amount in its service. 12

It is our needs that interpret the world; our instincts and their impulses for and against. Every instinct is a sort of thirst for power.... 13

That a belief, however useful it may be for the preservation of a species, has nothing to do with the truth, may be seen from the fact that we must believe in time, space, and motion, without feeling ourselves compelled to regard them as absolute realities. 16

Truth is that hind of error without which a certain species of living being cannot exist. 20

In the formation of reason, logic, and the categories, it was a need in us that was the determining power: not the need "to know," but to classify, to schematise, for the purpose of intelligibility and calculation. 29

Logic is the attempt on our part to understand the actual world according to a scheme of Being devised by ourselves; or, more exactly, it is our attempt at making the actual world more calculable and more susceptible to formulation, for our own purposes.... 33

"Truth" is the will to be master over the manifold sensations that reach consciousness; it is the will to classify phenomena according to definite categories. In this way we start out with a belief in the "true nature" of things (we regard phenomena as real).

The character of the world in the process of Becoming is not susceptible of formulation; it is "false" and "contradicts itself." Knowledge and the process of evolution exclude each other. Consequently, knowledge must be something else; it must be preceded by a will to make things knowable, a kind of Becoming in itself must create the impression of Being. 33-34

The chief error of psychologists: they regard the indistinct idea as of a lower kind than the distinct; but that which keeps at a distance from our consciousness and which is therefore obscure, may on that very account be quite clear in itself. The fact that a thing becomes obscure is a question of the perspective of consciousness. 42

The criterion of truth lies in the enhancement of the feeling of power. 49

Logic was intended to be a method of facilitating thought: a means of expression,—not truth.... Later on it got to act like truth.... 50

In a world which was essentially false, truthfulness would be an anti-natural tendency: its only purpose would be to provide a means of attaining to a higher degree of falsity. 51

We have absolutely no experience concerning cause; viewed psychologically we derive the whole concept from the subjective conviction, that we ourselves are causes. 55

"Truth" is not something which is present and which has to be found and discovered; it is something which has to be created and which gives its name to a process, or, better still, to the Will to overpower, which in itself has no purpose.... 60

The absolute is even an absurd concept: an "absolute mode of existence" is nonsense, the concept "being," "thing," is always relative to us.

The trouble is that, owing to the old antithesis "apparent" and "real," the correlative valuations "little value" and "absolute value" have been spread abroad. 83

Man seeks "the truth": a world that does not contradict itself, that does not deceive, that does not change, a real world—a world in which there is no suffering: contradiction, deception, variability—the causes of suffering. He does not doubt that there is such a thing as a world as it ought to be; he would fain find a road to it.... Obviously, the will to truth is merely the longing for a stable world.

The senses deceive; reason corrects the errors: therefore, it was concluded, reason is the road to a static state; the most spiritual ideas must be nearest to the "real world." 88

The degree of a man's will-power may be measured from the extent to which he can dispense with the meaning in things, from the extent to which he is able to endure a world without meaning: because he himself arranges a small portion of it. 90

There is no such thing as an established fact, everything fluctuates, everything is intangible, yielding; after all, the most lasting of all things are our opinions. 103

That the worth of the world lies in our interpretations (that perhaps yet other interpretations are possible somewhere, besides mankind's); that the interpretations made hitherto were perspective valuations, by means of which we were able to survive in life, i. e. in the Will to Power and in the growth of power; that every elevation of man involves the overcoming of narrower interpretations; that every higher degree of strength or power attained, brings new views in its train, and teaches a belief in new horizons—these doctrines lie scattered through all my works. 107

The triumphant concept "energy" with which our physicists created God and the world, needs yet to be completer: it must be given an inner will which I characterise as the "Will to Power"—that is to say, as an insatiable desire to manifest power; or the application and exercise of power as a creative instinct, etc.... 110

The unalterable sequence of certain phenomena does not prove any "law," but a relation of power between two or more forces. 115

A quantum of power is characterised by the effect it produces and the influence it resists. The adiaphoric state which would be thinkable in itself, is entirely lacking. It is essentially a will to violence and a will to defend one's self against violence. It is not self-preservation: every atom exercises its influence over the whole of existence—it is thought out of existence if one thinks this radiation of will-power away. That is why I call it a quantum of "Will to Power." ... 117-118

My idea is that every specific body strives to become master of all space, and to extend its power (its will to power), and to thrust back everything that resists it. But inasmuch as it is continually meeting the same endeavours on the part of other bodies, it concludes by coming to terms with those (by "combining" with those) which are sufficiently related to it—and thus they conspire together for power. And the process continues. 121

The influence of "environment" is nonsensically over-rated in Darwin: the essential factor in the process of life is precisely the tremendous inner power to shape and to create forms, which merely uses, exploits "environment." 127

The feeling of being surcharged, the feeling accompanying an increase in strength, quite apart from the utility of the struggle, is the actual progress: from these feelings the will to war is first derived. 128

A living thing seeks above all to discharge its strength: "self-preservation" is only one of the results thereof.... 128

The most fundamental and most primeval activity of a protoplasm cannot be ascribed to a will to self-preservation, for it absorbs an amount of material which is absurdly out of proportion with the needs of its preservation: and what is more, it does not "preserve itself" in the process, but actually falls to pieces .... The instinct which rules here, must account for this total absence in the organism of a desire to preserve itself.

The will to power can manifest itself only against obstacles: it therefore goes in search of what resists it—this is the primitive tendency of the protoplasm when it extends its pseudopodia and feels about it. The act of appropriation and assimilation is, above all, the result of an additional building and rebuilding, until at last the subjected creature has become completely a part of the superior creature's sphere of power, and has increased the latter.... 130

Why is all activity, even that of a sense, associated with pleasure? Because, before the activity was possible, an obstacle or a burden was done away with. Or, rather, because all action is a process of overcoming, of becoming master of, and of increasing the feeling of power? 135

Man is not only an individual, but the continuation of collective organic life in one definite line. The fact that man survives, proves that a certain species of interpretations (even though it still be added to) has also survived; that, as a system, this method of interpreting has not changed. 152

The fundamental phenomena: innumerable individuals are sacrificed for the sake of a few, in order to make the few possible.—One must not allow one's self to be deceived; the case is the same with peoples and races: they produce the "body" for the generation of isolated and valuable individuals, who continue the great process. 153

Life is not the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations, but will to power, which, proceeding from inside, subjugates and incorporates an ever-increasing quantity of "external" phenomena. 153-154

Man as a species is not progressing. Higher specimens are indeed attained; but they do not survive. The general level of the species is not raised.... Man as a species does not represent any sort of progress compared with any other animal. 157

The domestication (culture) of man does not sink very deep. When it does sink far below the skin it immediately becomes degeneration (type: the Christian). The "wild" man (or, in moral terminology, the evil man) is a reversion to Nature—and, in a certain sense, he represents a recovery, a cure from the effects of "culture."... 158

The strong always have to be upheld against the weak; and the well-constituted against the ill-constituted, the healthy against the sick and physiologically botched. If we drew our morals from reality, they would read thus: the mediocre are more valuable than the exceptional creatures, and the decadent than the mediocre; the will to nonentity prevails over the will to life.... 159

That species show an ascending tendency, is the most nonsensical assertion that has ever been made: until now they have only manifested a dead level. There is nothing whatever to prove that the higher organisms have developed from the lower. 160

Man as he has appeared up to the present is the embryo of the man of the future; all the formative powers which are to produce the latter, already lie in the former: and owing to the fact that they are enormous, the more promising for the future the modern individual happens to be, the more suffering falls to his lot. 161

The will to power is the primitive motive force out of which all other motives have been derived. 162

From a psychological point of view the idea of "cause" is our feeling of power in the act which is called willing—our concept "effect" is the superstition that this feeling of power is itself the force which moves things.... 163

Life as an individual case (a hypothesis which may be applied to existence in general) strives after the maximum feeling of power; life is essentially a striving after more power; striving itself is only a straining after more power; the most fundamental and innermost thing of all is this will. 165

Man does not seek happiness and does not avoid unhappiness. Everybody knows the famous prejudices I here contradict. Pleasure and pain are mere results, mere accompanying phenomena—that which every man, which every tiny particle of a living organism will have, is an increase of power. In striving after this, pleasure and pain are encountered; it is owing to that will that the organism seeks opposition and requires that which stands in its way.... Pain as the hindrance of its will to power is therefore a normal feature, a natural ingredient of every organic phenomenon; man does not avoid it; on the contrary, he is constantly in need of it; every triumph, every feeling of pleasure, every event presupposes an obstacle overcome. 172

Man is now master of the forces of nature, and master too of his own wild and unbridled feelings (the passions have followed suit, and have learned to become useful)—in comparison with primeval man, the man of to-day represents an enormous quantum of power, but not an increase in happiness. How can one maintain, then, that he has striven after happiness? 174

"God" is the culminating moment: life is an eternal process of deifying and undeifying. But withal there is no zenith of values, but only a zenith of power. 181

Man has one terrible and fundamental wish; he desires power, and this impulse, which is called freedom, must be the longest restrained. Hence ethics has instinctively aimed at such an education as shall restrain the desire for power; thus our morality slanders the would-be tyrant, and glorifies charity, patriotism, and the ambition of the herd. 186

When the instincts of a society ultimately make it give up war and renounce conquest, it is decadent: it is ripe for democracy and the rule of shopkeepers. 189

The maintenance of the military State is the last means of adhering to the great tradition of the past; or, where it has been lost, to revive it. By means of it the superior or strong type of man is preserved, and all institutions and ideas which perpetuate enmity and order of rank in States such as national feeling, protective tariffs, etc., may on that account seem justified. 190

Concerning the future of marriage.—A supertax on inherited property, a longer term of military service for bachelors of a certain minimum age within the community.

Privileges of all sorts for fathers who lavish boys upon the world, and perhaps plural votes as well.

A medical certificate as a condition of any marriage, endorsed by the parochial authorities, in which a series of questions addressed to the parties and the medical officers must be answered ("family histories").

As a counter-agent to prostitution, or as its ennoblement, I would recommend leasehold marriages (to last for a term of years or months), with adequate provision for the children.

Every marriage to be warranted and sanctioned by a certain number of good men and true, of the parish, as a parochial obligation. 193

Society ... should in many cases actually prevent the act of procreation, and may, without any regard for rank, descent, or intellect, hold in readiness the most rigorous forms of compulsion and restriction, and, under certain circumstances, have recourse to castration. 194

The idea of punishment ought to be reduced to the concept of the suppression of revolt, a weapon against the vanquished (by means of long or short terms of imprisonment). But punishment should not be associated in any way with contempt. A criminal is at all events a man who has set his life, his honour, his freedom at stake; he is therefore a man of courage. Neither should punishment be regarded as penance or retribution, as though there were some recognised rate of exchange between crime and punishment. Punishment does not purify, simply because crime does not sully. 198

Should not the punishment fit the crime? 200

"The will to power" is so loathed in democratic ages that the whole of the psychology of these ages seems directed towards its belittlement and slander. 205

I am opposed to Socialism because it dreams ingenuously of "goodness, truth, beauty, and equal rights" (anarchy pursues the same ideal, but in a more brutal fashion).

I am opposed to parliamentary government and the power of the press, because they are the means whereby cattle become masters. 206

The idea of a higher order of man is hated much more profoundly than monarchs themselves. Hatred of aristocracy always uses hatred of monarchy as a mask. 207

Utility and pleasure are slave theories of life. "The blessing of work" is an ennobling phrase for slaves. Incapacity for leisure. 208

There is no such thing as a right to live, a right to work, or a right to be happy: in this respect man is no different from the meanest worm. 208

Fundamental errors: to regard the herd as an aim instead of the individual! The herd is only a means and nothing more! But nowadays people are trying to understand the herd as they would an individual, and to confer higher rights upon it than upon isolated personalities. In addition to this, all that makes for gregariousness, e.g., sympathy, is regarded as the more valuable side of our natures. 214-215

The will to power appears:—

(a) Among the oppressed and slaves of all kinds, in the form of will to "freedom": the mere fact of breaking loose from something seems to be an end in itself (in a religio-moral sense: "One is only answerable to one's own conscience"; "evangelical freedom," etc., etc.).

(b) In the case of a stronger species, ascending to power, in the form of the will to overpower. If this fails, then it shrinks to the "will to justice"—that is to say, to the will to the same measure of rights as the ruling caste possesses.

(c) In the case of the strongest, richest, most independent, and most courageous, in the form of "love of humanity," of "love of the people," of the "gospel," of "truth," of "God," of "pity," of "self-sacrifice," etc., etc.; in the form of overpowering, of deeds of capture, of imposing service on some one, of an instinctive reckoning of one's self as part of a great mass of power to which one attempts to give a direction: the hero, the prophet, the Cæsar, the Saviour, the bell-wether. 220-221

Individualism is a modest and still unconscious form of will to power; with it a single human unit seems to think it sufficient to free himself from the preponderating power of society (or of the State or Church). He does not set himself up in opposition as a personality, but merely as a unit; he represents the rights of all other individuals as against the whole. That is to say, he instinctively places himself on a level with every other unit: what he combats he does not combat as a person, but as a representative of units against a mass. 227

There are no such things as moral actions: they are purely imaginary. Not only is it impossible to demonstrate their existence (a fact which Kant and Christianity, for instance, both acknowledge)—but they are not even possible. Owing to psychological misunderstanding, man invented an opposite to the instinctive impulses of life, and believed that a new species of instinct was thereby discovered: a primum mobile was postulated which does not exist at all. According to the valuation which gave rise to the antithesis "moral" and "immoral," one should say: There is nothing else on earth but immoral intentions and actions.

The whole differentiation, "moral" and "immoral," arises from the assumption that both moral and immoral actions are the result of a spontaneous will—in short, that such a will exists; or in other words, that moral judgments can only hold good with regard to intuitions and actions that are free. But this whole order of actions and intentions is purely imaginary: the only world to which the moral standard could be applied does not exist at all: there is no such thing as a moral or an immoral action. 230-231

There are two conditions in which art manifests itself in man even as a force of nature, and disposes of him whether he consent or not: it may be as a constraint to visionary states, or it may be an orgiastic impulse. 240

Sexuality, intoxication, cruelty; all these belong to the oldest festal joys of mankind, they also preponderate in budding artists. 243

The desire for art and beauty is an indirect longing for the ecstasy of sexual desire, which gets communicated to the brain. 248

All art works as a tonic; it increases strength, it kindles desire (i.e., the feeling of strength), it excites all the more subtle recollections of intoxication.... 252

The inartistic states are: objectivity, reflection, suspension of the will.... The inartistic states are: those which impoverish, which subtract, which bleach, under which life suffers—the Christian. 257

Would any link be missing in the whole chain of science and art, if woman, if woman's work, were excluded from it? Let us acknowledge the exception—it proves the rule—that woman is capable of perfection in everything which does not constitute a work: in letters, in memoirs, in the most intricate handiwork—in short, in everything which is not a craft.... 260-261

A man is an artist to the extent to which he regards everything that inartistic people call "form" as the actual substance, as the "principal" thing. 261

The essential feature in art is its power of perfecting existence, its production of perfection and plenitude; art is essentially the affirmation, the blessing, and the deification of existence.... 263

The greatness of an artist is not to be measured by the beautiful feelings which he evokes: let this belief be left to the girls. It should be measured according to the extent to which he approaches the grand style, according to the extent to which he is capable of the grand style. This style and great passion have this in common—that they scorn to please; that they forget to persuade: that they command; that they will.... To become master of the chaos which is in one; to compel one's inner chaos to assume form; to become consistent, simple, unequivocal, mathematical, law—this is the great ambition here. 277

A preference for questionable and terrible things is a symptom of strength; whereas the taste for pretty and charming trifles is characteristic of the weak and the delicate. 287

Art is the great means of making life possible, the great seducer to life, the great stimulus of life.

Art is the only superior counter-agent to all will to the denial of life; it is par excellence the anti-Christian, the anti-Buddhistic, the anti-Nihilistic force. 290

Quanta of power alone determine rank and distinguish rank: nothing else does. 295

It is necessary for higher men to declare war upon the masses! In all directions mediocre people are joining hands in order to make themselves masters. Everything that pampers, that softens, and that brings the "people" or "woman" to the front, operates in favour of universal suffrage—that is to say, the dominion of inferior men. 297

Woman has always conspired with decadent types,—the priests, for instance,—against the "mighty," against the "strong," against men. Women avail themselves of children for the cult of piety, pity, and love:—the mother stands as the symbol of convincing altruism. 300

It is necessary to show that a counter-movement is inevitably associated with any increasingly economical consumption of men and mankind, and with an ever more closely involved "machinery" of interests and services. I call this counter-movement the separation of the luxurious surplus of mankind: by means of it a stronger kind, a higher type, must come to light, which has other conditions for its origin and for its maintenance than the average man. My concept, my metaphor for this type is, as you know, the word "Superman." 305

Readers are beginning to see what I am combating—namely, economic optimism: as if the general welfare of everybody must necessarily increase with the growing self-sacrifice of everybody. The very reverse seems to me to be the case, the self-sacrifice of everybody amounts to a collective loss; man becomes inferior—so that nobody knows what end this monstrous purpose has served. 306-307

The root of all evil: that the slave morality of modesty, chastity, selfishness, and absolute obedience should have triumphed. Dominating natures were thus condemned (1) to hypocrisy, (2) to qualms of conscience,—creative natures regarded themselves as rebels against God, uncertain and hemmed in by eternal values. 309

That which men of power and will are able to demand of themselves gives them the standard for what they may also allow themselves. Such natures are the very opposite of the vicious and the unbridled: although under certain circumstances they may perpetrate deeds for which an inferior man would be convicted of vice and intemperance.

In this respect the concept, "all men are equal before God" does an extraordinary amount of harm; actions and attitudes of mind were forbidden which belonged to the prerogative of the strong alone, just as if they were in themselves unworthy of man. All the tendencies of strong men were brought into disrepute by the fact that the defensive weapons of the most weak (even of those who were weakest towards themselves) were established as a standard of valuation. 311

The degeneration of the ruler and of the ruling classes has been the cause of all the great disorders in history! 312

The solitary type should not be valued from the standpoint of the gregarious type, or vice versa. 320

Who would dare to disgust the mediocre of their mediocrity! As you observe, I do precisely the reverse: every step away from mediocrity—thus do I teach—leads to immorality. 324

What I combat: that an exceptional form should make war upon the rule—instead of understanding that the continued existence of the rule is the first condition of the value of the exception. 325

One should not suppose the mission of a higher species to be the leading of inferior men (as Comte does, for instance); but the inferior should be regarded as the foundation upon which a higher species may live their higher life—upon which alone they can stand. 329

My consolation is, that the nature of man is evil, and this guarantees his strength! 332

There is no true scholar who has not the instincts of a true soldier in his veins. To be able to command and to be able to obey in a proud fashion; to keep one's place in rank and file, and yet to be ready at any moment to lead; to prefer danger to comfort; not to weigh what is permitted and what is forbidden in a tradesman's balance; to be more hostile to pettiness, slyness, and parasitism than to wickedness. What is it that one learns in a hard school?—to obey and to command. 335

The means by which a strong species maintains itself:—

It grants itself the right of exceptional actions, as a test of the power of self-control and of freedom.

It abandons itself to states in which a man is not allowed to be anything else than a barbarian.

It tries to acquire strength of will by every kind of asceticism.

It is not expansive; it practises silence; it is cautious in regard to all charms.

It learns to obey in such a way that obedience provides a test of self-maintenance. Casuistry is carried to its highest pitch in regard to points of honour.

It never argues, "What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander"—but conversely! it regards reward, and the ability to repay, as a privilege, as a distinction.

It does not covet other people's virtues. 341

The blind yielding to a passion, whether it be generosity, pity, or hostility, is the cause of the greatest evil. Greatness of character does not consist in not possessing these passions—on the contrary, a man should possess them to a terrible degree: but he should lead them by the bridle.... 346

Education: essentially a means of ruining exceptions in favour of the rule. Culture: essentially the means of directing taste against the exceptions in favour of the mediocre. 349

What is noble?—The fact that one is constantly forced to be playing a part. That one is constantly searching for situations in which one is forced to put on airs. That one leaves happiness to the greatest number: the happiness which consists of inner peacefulness, of virtue, of comfort, and of Anglo-angelic-back-parlour-smugness, à la Spencer. That one instinctively seeks for heavy responsibilities. That one knows how to create enemies everywhere, at a pinch even in one's self. That one contradicts the greatest number, not in words at all, but by continually behaving differently from them. 357

The first thing that must be done is to rear a new kind of man in whom the duration of the necessary will and the necessary instincts is guaranteed for many generations. This must be a new kind of ruling species and caste—this ought to be quite as clear as the somewhat lengthy and not easily expressed consequences of this thought. The aim should be to prepare a transvaluation of values for a particularly strong kind of man, most highly gifted in intellect and will, and, to his end, slowly and cautiously to liberate in him a whole host of slandered instincts hitherto held in check.... 363-364

The revolution, confusion, and distress of whole peoples is in my opinion of less importance than the misfortunes which attend great individuals in their development. We must not allow ourselves to be deceived: the many misfortunes of all these small folk do not together constitute a sum-total, except in the feelings of mighty men. 369

The greatest men may also perhaps have great virtues, but then they also have the opposites of these virtues. I believe that it is precisely out of the presence of these opposites and of the feelings they suscitate, that the great man arises,—for the great man is the broad arch which spans two banks lying far apart. 370

In great men we find the specific qualities of life in their highest manifestation: injustice, falsehood, exploitation. But inasmuch as their effect has always been overwhelming, their essential nature has been most thoroughly misunderstood, and interpreted as goodness. 370-371

We must not make men "better," we must not talk 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 must create circumstances in which stronger 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! 379

We must not separate greatness of soul from intellectual greatness. For the former involves independence; 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 spirits must obey, consequently they cannot be possessed of greatness. 380

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. 386

He who determines values and leads the will of millenniums, and does this by leading the highest natures—he is the highest man. 386

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. 389

Pleasure appears with the feeling of power.

Happiness means that power and triumph have entered into our consciousness.

Progress is the strengthening of the type, the ability to exercise great will-power: everything else is a misunderstanding and a danger. 403

Man is a combination of the beast and the superbeast: higher man a combination of the monster and the superman: 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:... 405

The word "Dionysian" expresses: a constraint to unity, a soaring above personality, the commonplace, society, reality, and above the abyss of the ephemeral; the passionately painful sensation of superabundance, in darker, fuller, and more fluctuating conditions; an ecstatic saying of yea to the collective character of existence, as that which remains the same, and equally mighty and blissful throughout all change; the great pantheistic sympathy with pleasure and pain, which declares even the most terrible and most questionable qualities of existence good, and sanctifies them; the eternal will to procreation, to fruitfulness, and to recurrence; the feeling of unity in regard to the necessity of creating and annihilating. 415-416

At this point I set up the Dionysus of the Greeks: the religious affirmation of Life, of the whole of Life, not of denied and partial Life.... 420

God on the Cross is a curse upon Life, a signpost directing people to deliver themselves from it;—Dionysus cut into pieces is a promise of Life: it will be for ever born anew, and rise afresh from destruction. 421

BIBLIOGRAPHY

In the following list no attempt has been made at completion. I have set down only the important and more useful works concerning Nietzsche and his philosophy, and have further limited myself to such volumes as are in English. I have omitted entirely the large number of essays on Nietzsche which have appeared in magazines, as well as those books which embody only the various Nietzschean ideas.

EXPOSITIONAL BOOKS

THE PHILOSOPHY OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, by H. L. Mencken. A brilliantly written and extensive exposition of Nietzsche's thought, including an account of the philosopher's life, a discussion of his origins, a reply to his critics, and a chapter on how to study him. Mr. Mencken's book, though untechnical, is comprehensive, concise and admirably conceived. It constitutes one of the most valuable Nietzschean commentaries in English.

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE: HIS LIFE AND WORK, by M. A. Mügge. A large and scholarly treatise of special value to the philosophical student. This work, a pioneer one, is somewhat ponderous and uninteresting, but none the less exhaustive; and contains a bibliography consisting of 850 titles.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF NIETZSCHE, by Georges H. Chatterton-Hill. A suggestive, academic study of the main points in the Nietzschean ethic. This book is too technical in places to appeal strongly to the beginner, but is invaluable as supplementary reading.

THE QUINTESSENCE OF NIETZSCHE, by J. M. Kennedy. An interesting and unassuming survey of Nietzsche's work, abounding with quotations.

NIETZSCHE: HIS LIFE AND WORKS, by Anthony M. Ludovici. Mr. Ludovici is the translator of many of Nietzsche's works into English, and has contributed to Dr. Levy's edition several prefaces and many explanatory notes. His book is complete and authoritative.

Other adequate commentaries are: THE GOSPEL OF SUPERMAN, by Henri Lichtenberger, translated from the French by J. M. Kennedy; FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, by A. R. Orage; NIETZSCHE AS CRITIC, PHILOSOPHER, POET AND PROPHET, by Thomas Common; THE PHILOSOPHY OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, by Grace Neal Dolson; and FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, by Georg Brandes, translated by A. G. Chater.

BIOGRAPHIES

THE LIFE OF NIETZSCHE, by Frau Förster-Nietzsche. This work, in two volumes, is the standard biography of Nietzsche, written by his sister. Though elaborate in detail and replete in personal correspondence and papers, it is not all that might be hoped for. One's devoted sister does not always make the most penetrating biographer.

THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, by Daniel Halévy, translated from the French by J. M. Hone. M. Halévy has founded his work on that of Frau Förster-Nietzsche; and while his version improves on its model at many points, it is in places supposititious and over-drawn, and is conceived in too ironical a vein.

Unfortunately there is no adequate biography of Nietzsche in existence. Nor is there likely to be one, inasmuch as all the papers and data necessary for such an undertaking are in the possession of Nietzsche's sister.

BOOKS OF SELECTIONS

THE GIST OF NIETZSCHE, by H. L. Mencken.

NIETZSCHE IN OUTLINE AND APHORISM, by A. R. Orage.

NIETZSCHE: HIS MAXIMS, by J. M. Kennedy.

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Table of Contents

- What Nietzsche Taught

- Willard Huntington Wright

- INTRODUCTION

- WHAT NIETZSCHE TAUGHT

- I

- Biographical Sketch

- II

- "Human, All-Too-Human"

- Volumes I and II

- III

- "The Dawn of Day"

- IV

- "The Joyful Wisdom"

- V

- "Thus Spake Zarathustra"

- VI

- "The Eternal Recurrence"

- VII

- "Beyond Good and Evil"

- VIII

- "The Genealogy of Morals"

- IX

- "The Twilight of the Idols"

- X

- "The Antichrist"

- XI

- "The Will to Power"

- Volume I

- XII

- "The Will to Power"

- Volume II

- BIBLIOGRAPHY

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE