Reading20-Nietzsche-SelectionsBeyondGoodEvil

Reading20-Nietzsche-SelectionsBeyondGoodEvil - 'ZSCHE y...

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Unformatted text preview: 'ZSCHE y mean- pretabie it COURI- 1r drives 1 kind of it would a norm. 1 remains l we con- 1 murder- world has .nder our us? With What lus- o devise? at for us? me Gods, rer was a , who are than any silent and em silent threw his flows and then said. ions event as not yet nder need eeds need and heard. in the fur- ——It is fur— .y into dif- :re intoned and called “What are tombs and BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL Beyond Good and Evil WHAT IS NOBLE? Every elevation of the type “man,” has hitherto been the work of an aristocratic society and so it will al- ways be—a society believing in a long scale of gra- dations of rank and differences of worth among hu- man beings, and requiring slavery insome form or other. Without the pathos of distance, such as grows out of the inca‘rnated difference of classes, out of the constant outlooking and downlooking of the ruling caste on subordinates and instruments, and out of their equally constant practice of obeying and com— manding, of keeping down and keeping at a dis- tance—wthat other more mysterious pathos could never have arisen, the longing for an ever new widening of distance within the soul itself, the for- mation of ever higher, rarer, further, more extended, more comprehensive states, in short, just the eleva- tion of the type “man,” the continued l‘self—sur— mounting of man," to use a moral formula in a su- permoral sense. To be sure, one must not resign oneself to any humanitarian illusions about the his- tory of the origin of an aristocratic society (that is to say, of the preliminary condition for the elevation of the type “man”): the truth is hard. Let us ac- knowledge unprejudicedly how ever higher civilisa— tion hitherto has originated! Men with a still natural nature, barbarians in every terrible sense of the word, men of prey, still in possession of unbroken strength of will and desire for power, threw themselves upon weaker, more moral, more peaceful races (perhaps trading or cattle-rearing communities), or upon old mellow civilisations in which the final vital force was flickering out in brilliant fireworks of wit-and depravity. At the commencement, the noble caste was always the barbarian caste: their superiority did not consist first of all in their physical, but in their pSychical power—they were more complete men (which at every point also implies the same as “more complete beasts”). _ Corruption—as the indication that anarchy threat— ens to break out among the instincts, and that the foundation of the emotions, called “life,” is con- ' - vulsed—is something radically different according " '. to the organisation in which it manifests itself. ‘ When, for instance, an aristocracy like that of France fat the beginning of the Revolution, flung away its 1017 privileges with sublime disgust and sacrificed itself to an excess of its moral sentiments, it was corrup— tion:——it was really only the closing act of the cor- ruption which had existed for centuries, by virtue of which that aristocracy had abdicated step by step its lordly prerogatives and lowered itself to a function of royalty (in the end even to its decoration and pa- rade-dress). The essential thing, however, in a good and healthy aristocracy is that it should not regard itself as a function either of the kingship or the corn» monwealth, but as the significance and highest jus- tification 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 instru- ments. Its fundamean 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 ele- vate themselves to their higher duties, and in gen- eral to a higher existence: like those sun-seeking climbing plants in Java—they are called Sipo Mara- dor,—which encircle an oak so long and so often with their arms, until at last, high above it, but sup- ported by it, they can unfold their tops in the open light, and exhibit their happiness. ‘ To refrain mutually from injury, from violence, from exploitation, and put one’s will. on a par with that of others: this may result in a certain rough sense in good obnduct among individuals when the nec- essary conditions are given (namely, the actual sim- ilarity of the individuals in amount of force and de- gree of worth, and their co-relation within one organisation). As soon, however, as one wished to take this principle more generally, and if possible even as the fundamental principle of society, it would imrhediately disclose what it really is— namely, a Will to the denial of life, a principle of dissolution and decay. Here one must think pro- foundly to the very basis and resist all sentimental weakness: life itself is essentially appropriation,,in- jury, conquest of the strange and weak, suppression, severity, obtrusion of peculiar forms, incorporation, and at the least, putting it mildest, exploitation;— but why should one for ever use precisely these words on which for ages a disparaging purpose has been stamped? Even the organisation within which, - anom-me:wew«mmwwmmummmMom.mmmmmwww.mwmawwm-mm‘hambumumuhmm.mm.m.m.m.um_..ww_umm.wWHWWm_mm.mn__—.m ,. .G\r.l.\u7wwflx\va raw“: away-(l3me 1018 as was previously supposed, the individuals treat each other as equal—it takes place in every healthy aristocracy—must itself, if it be a living and not a dying organisation, do all that towards other bodies, which the individuals within it refrain from doing to each other: it will have to be the incarnated Will to /‘:POWer, it will endeavour to grow, to gain ground, attract to itself and acquire ascendency—not oiving to any morality or immorality,rbut because it lives, and because life is precisely Will to Power. On no point; however, is the ordinary consciousness of En— ropeans more unwilling to be corrected than on this matter; people now rave everywhere, even under the guise of science, about coming conditions of soci- ety in which “the exploiting character” is to be ab— sent—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 he- longs to the nature of the living being as a primary 's a consequence of the intrinsic organic function; it 1 Will to Power, which is precisely the Will to Lifer— Granting that as a theory this is a novelty—as a re— ality it is the fundamental fact of all history: let us be so far honest towards ourselves! MASTER AND SLAVE MORALITY In a tour through the many finer and coarser moral- ities which have hitherto prevailed or still prevail on . the earth, I' found certain traits recurring regularly together, and connected with one another, until fi- nally two primary types revealed themselves to me, and a radical distinction was brought to light. There is master—morality and slave-m0rdliry;—I would at once add, however, that in all higher and mixed civilisations, there are also attempts at the reconcil- iation of the two moralities; but one finds still of- tener the confusion and mutual misunderstanding of them, indeed, sometimes their close juxtaposition—- even in the same man, within one soul. The dis- tinctions of moral values have either originated in a ruling caste, pleasantly conscious of being different from the ruled—or among the ruled class, the slaves and dependents of all sorts. In the first case, when it is the rulers who determine the conception “good,” it is the exalted, proud disposition which is regarded as the distinguishing feature, and that which deter- mines the order of rank. The noble type of man sep- arates from himself the beings in whom the oppo— site of this exalted, proud disposition displays itself: FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE he despises them. Let it at once he noted that in this first kind of morality the antithesis “good” and “bad” means practically the s cable”;——the antithesis “good” and “evil” ferent origin. The cowardly, the timid, the insignif— icant, and those thinking merely of narrow utility are despised; moreover, constrained glances, the self-abasing, the dog—like kind of men who let themselves be abused, the men- arne as “noble” and “despi— is of a dif- also, the distrustful, with their dicant flatterers, and above all the liars:—-it is a fun- damental belief of all aristocrats that the common people are untruthful. “We truthful ones”—the no- bility in ancient Greece called themselves. It is ob- vious that everywhere the designations of moral value were at first applied to men, and were only de- rivatively and at a later period applied to actions; it is a gross mistake, therefore, when historians of morals start with questions like, “Why have sympa— thetic actions been praised?” The noble type of man regards himself as a determiner of values; he does not require to be approved of; he passes the judg_ ment: “What is injurious to me is injurious in itself”; he knows that it is he himself only who confers ho- nour on things; he is a creator of values. He hon— ours whatever he recognises in himself: such moral- ity is self—glorification. In the foreground there is the feeling of plenitude, of power, which seeks to over— flow, the happiness of high tension, the conscious- ness of a wealth which would fain give and be' stow:—-the noble man also helps the unfortunate, but not—or scarcely—out of pity, but rather from an im- pulse 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 hard- ness, and has reverence for all that is severe and hard. “Wotan placed a hard heart in my breast,” says an old Scandinavian Saga: it is thus rightly expressed from the soul of a proud Viking. Such a type of man is even proud of not being made for sympathy; the “He who has not a hard heart when young, will never have ” The noble and brave who think thus are the furthest removed from the morality which sees pre- cisely in sympathy, or in acting for the good of oth— ers, or in désintéressement, the characteristic of the n oneself, pride in oneself, a radical en- mity and irony towards “selflessness,” belong as def— initely to noble morality, as do a careless scorn and sympathy and the “warm heart.”——It is the powerful who know how to hon- hero of the Saga therefore adds warningly: one. moral; faith i precaution in presence of mlllllwwmx’n»v<""-ImnK-eewflwlemm U ‘ A MW....mmmmmmmmfi,..§:.;E..::L..::.:..:;:.: ‘ - 2" Smgflfldmfl zscHE BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL 1019 tin this our, it is their art, their domain for invention. The a certain dreadfulness, subtlety, and strength, which fidubad” profound reverence for age and for tradition—all do not admit of being despised. According to slave- l‘“despi- law rests on this double reverence,—the belief and morality, therefore, the “evil” man arouses fear; ac— I of a dip prejudice in favour of ancestors and unfavourable to cording to master—morality, it is precisely the “good” '. . nip newcomers, is typical in the morality of the power— man who arouses fear and seeks to arouse it, while lllfilg are ful; and if, reversely, men of “modern ideas” believe the bad man is regarded as the despicable being. The ugtgtiheh almost instinctively in “progress” and the “future,” contrast attains its maximum when, in accordance $210 411“, and are more and more lacking in respect for old with the logical consequences of slave—morality, a ' megmcm age, the ignoble origin of these “ideas” has com— shade of depreciation—it may be slight and well—in- ? . afum placently betrayed itself thereby. A morality of the tentioned—at last attaches itself to the “good” man “15 men ruling class, however, is more especially foreign and of this morality; because, according to the servile ,3; “3:; n0_ irritating to present-day taste in the sternness of its mode of thought, the good man must in any case be '5‘.“ is ob_ principle that one has duties only to one’s equals; the safe man: he is good-natured, easily deceived, : ' f moral that one may act towards beings of a lower rank, to- perhaps a little stupid, an bonhomme. Everywhere ’ o 1 d6_ wards all that is foreign, just as seems good to one, that slave-morality gains the ascendency, language are 01.1 y . it or “as the heart desires,” and in any case “beyond shows a tendency to approximate the significations ? aetléns’of good and evil”: it is here that sympathy and similar of the words “good” and “stupi .”—+—A last funda- lsmnans a_ sentiments can have a place. The ability and obli- mental difference: the desire for fieedom, the instinct lave Syfmp gation to exercise prolonged gratitude and prolonged for happiness and the refinements of the feeling of type 0 $3; revenge—both only within the circle of equals,— liberty belong asnecessariiy to slave-morals and “as; he. d _ artfulness in retaliation, refinement of the ideain morality, as artifice and enthusiasm in reverence and ‘68 like. “‘15. friendship, a certain necessity to have enemies (as devotion are the regular symptoms of an aristocratic Jusm Itsehoi outlets for the emotions of envy, quarrelsomeness, mode of thinking and estimating—Hence we can 0 confers}! n_ arrogance—in fact, in order to be a good friend): all understand without further detail why love as a pas— ”es‘ Ha Sap these are typical characteristics of the noble moral— sion——it is our European specialty—must absolutely 2:131:32 the ity, which, as has been pointed out, is not the moral- be of noble origin; as is well known, its invention seeks to Over“ the conscious- ity of “modern ideas,” and is therefore at present dif- ficult to realise and also to unearth and disclose.—~It is due to the Provenpal poet—cavaliers, those brilliant, ingenious men of the “gai saber," to whom Europe . and b6_ is otherwise with-the second type of morality, slave- owes so much, and almost Owes itself. . . . gwe t but morality. Supposing that the abused, the oppressed, There is an instinct for rank, which more than any- ‘nfomna 6’ im_ the suffering, the unemancipated, the weary, and thing else is already the sign of a high rank; there is Jar from anwer those uncertain of themselves, should morahse, what a delight in the nuances of reverence which leads mce 0f P? one. will be the common element in their moral esti- one to infer noble origin and habits. The refinement, epowerfuknow; mates? Probably a pessimistic suspicion with regard goodness, and loftiness of a soul are put to a per- Blf’ WW; takes to the entire situation of man will find expression, ilous test when something passes by that is of the $133311: hard_ perhaps a condemnation of man, together with his highest- rank, but is not yet protected by the awe of it is severe and my breasts" Says rightly e"l’l‘issed roll a type “f ma“ situation. The slave has an unfavourable eye for the virtues of the powerful; he has a scepticism and dis— trust, a refinement of dislrust of everything “good” that is there honoured—he would fain persuade him— authority from obtrusive touches and incivilities: something that goes its way like a living touchstone, undistinguished, undiscovered, and tentative, per— haps voluntarily veiled and disguised. He whose task b amy. the self that the very happiness there is not genuine. 0n and practice it is to investigate souls, will avail him- OI,Sym?‘:Hc’who .sthe other hand, those qualities which serve to alle- self of many varieties of this very art to determine “migly' vet have _:Viate the existence of sufferers are brought into the ultimate value of a soul, the unalterable, inn te hymn; are the ron‘linence and flooded with light; it is here that order of rank to which it belongs: he will test it by Sympathy, the kind, helping hand, the warm heart, atience, diligence, humility, and friendliness attain honour; for here these are the most useful quali— BS, and almost the only means of supporting the firden of existence. Slave—morality is essentially the Orality of utility. Here is the seat of the origin of stile famous antithesis “good” and “evil”:—power 'd dangerousness are assumed to reside in the evil, its instinct for reverence. Drfiérence engendre haine [Difference engenders hate.--ED.]: the vulgarityof many a nature spurts up suddenly like dirty water, when any holy vessel, any jewel from closed shrines, any book bearing the marks of great destiny, is brought before it; while on the other hand, there is an involuntary silence, a hesitation of the eye, a ces- sation of all gestures, by which it is indicated that a t which sees Ple' ii" the good of 0th— .taracteristic 0f the resell, a radicfi‘l er" ass,” belong as de careless SCOIn 3“ Ithy and the. “WW know how to hon 1 020 soul feels the nearness of what is worthiest of re- spect. . . . The revolt of the slaves in morals begins in the very principle of resentment becoming creative and giving birth to values—a resentment experienced by creatures who, deprived as they are of the proper optlet of action, are forced to find their compensa- tion in an imaginary revenge. While every aristo- cratic morality springs from a triumphant affirma— tion of its own demands, the slave morality says “no” from the very outset to what is “outside itself,” “dif— ferent from itself,” and “not itself’: and this “no” is its creative deed. This reversal of the valuing stand- point—this inevitable gravitation to the objective in- stead of back to the subjective—is typical of “re- sentrnent”: the slave-morality requires as the condition of its existence an external and objective world, to" employ physiological terminology, it re« quires objective stimuli to be capable of action at all—its action is fundamentally a reaction. The con- trary 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;— its negative conception, “low,” “vulgar,” “bad,” is merely a pale late—born foil in comparison with its positive and fundamental conception (saturated as it is with life and passion), of “we aristocrats, we good ones, we beautiful ones, we happy ones.” When the aristocratic morality goes astray and commits sacrilege on reality, this is limited to that particular sphere with which it is not sufficiently ac— quainted—m sphere, in fact, from the real knowledge of which it disdainfully defends itself. It misjudges, in some cases, the sphere which it despises, the sphere of the common vulgar man and the low peo- ple: on the other hand, due weight should be given to the consideration that in any case the mood of contempt, of disdain, of superciliousness, even on the supposition that it falsely portrays the object of its contempt, will always be far removed from that degree of falsity which will always characterise the attacks—in effigy, of coursed—of the vindictive ha- tred and revengefulness of the weak in onslaughts on their enemies. In point of fact, there is in con- tempt too strong an admixture of nonchalance, of casualness, of boredom, of impatience, even of per- sonal exultation, for it to be capable of distorting its victim into a real caricature or a real monstrosity. Attention again should be paid to the almost benev— olent nuances which, for instance, the Greek nobil— ity imports into all the words by which it distin- FBIEDRICH NIETZSCHE guishes the common people from itself; note how continuously a kind of pity, care, and consideration imparts its honeyed flavour, until at last almost all the words which are applied to the vulgar man sur- vive finally as expressions for “unhappy,” “worthy of pity”. . .——and how, conversely, “had,” “low,” “unhappy” have never ceased to ring in the Greek ear with a tone in which “unhappy” is the predom- inant note: this is a heritage of the old noble aristo— cratic morality, which remains true to‘itself even in contempt. . .. The “well-born” simply felt them— selves the “happy”; they did not have to manufac- ture their happiness artificially through looking at their enemies, or in cases to talk and‘lie themselves into happiness (as is the custom with all resentful men); and similarly, complete men as they were, ex— uberant with strength, and consequently necessarily energetic, they were too wise to dissociate happi- ness from action—activity becomes in their minds necessarily counted as happiness (that is the ety- mology of €13 arptirrew)—all in sharp contrast to the “happiness” of the weak and the oppressed, with their festering venom and malignity, among whom happiness appears essentially as a narcotic, a dead— ening, .a quietude, a peace, a “Sabbath,” an enerva— tion of the mind and relaxation of the limbs,—in short, a purely passive phenomenon. While the aris~ tocratic man lived in confidence and openness with himself (ya-mics, “noble—born,” emphasises the nuance “sincere,” and perhaps also “na'1'f”), the re- . sentful man, on the other hand, is neither sincere nor nai'f, nor honest and candid with himself. His soul squints; his mind loves hidden crannies, tortuous paths and backdoors, everything secret appeals to him as his world, his safety, his balm; he is past mas- ter in silence, in not forgetting, in waiting, in provi- sional self-depreciation and self—abasement. A race of such resentful men will of necessity eventually prove more prudent than any aristocratic race, it will honour prudence on quite a distinct scale, as, in fact, a paramount condition of existence, while prudence among aristocratic men is apt to be tinged with a delicate flavour of luxury and refinement; so among them it plays nothing like so integral a part as that complete certainty of function of the governing un- € conscious instincts, or as indeed a certain lack of prudence, such as a vehement and valiant charge, whether against danger or the enemy, or as those ec- static bursts of rage, love, reverence, gratitude, by which at all times noble souls have recognised eaCh other. When the resentment of the aristocratic man manifests itself, it fulfils and exhausts itself in all for I \Il ETZSCHE f; note how _ onsidera'tion St almost all gar man: Sur- )y,” “worthy and,” “low,” in the Greek the predom— noble aristor itself even in y felt them— to manufac- ;h looking at .e themselves all resentful hey were, ex- .y necessarily ociate happi— n their minds at is the ety- zontrast to the pressed, with among whom code, a dead- 1,” an enerva— he limbs,—in While the aris- openness with mphasises the ‘nai'f’), the re— her sincere nor iself. His soul mics, tortuous :ret appeals to he is past mas- iting, in provi- iement. A race sity eventually atic race, it will sale, as,-in fact, while prudence : tinged with a nent; so among 11 a part as that 3 governing un- certain lack of valiant charge, *, or as those cc- 3, gratitude, by recognised each aristocratic man usts itself in an BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL immediate reaction, and consequently instills no venom: on the other hand, it never manifests itself at all in countless instances, when in the case of the feeble and weak it would be inevitable. An inabil- ity to take seriously for any length of time their en- emies, their disasters, their misdeeds—that is the sign of the full strong natures who possess a super- fluity of moulding plastic force, that heals com- pletely and produces forgetfulness: a good example of this in the modern world is Mirabcau, who had no memory for any insults and meannesses which were practised on him, and who was only incapable of forgiving because he forgot. Such a man indeed shakes off with a shrug. many a worm which would have buried itself in another; it is only in characters like these that we see the possibility (supposing, of course, that there is such a possibility in the world) of the real “love of one‘s enemies.” What respect for his enemies is found, forsooth, in an aristocratic man—and such a reverence is already a bridge to love! He insists on having-his enemy to himself as his distinction. He tolerates no other enemy but a man in whose character there is nothing to despise and much to honour! On the other hand, imagine the “enemy” as the resentful man conceives him—and it is here exactly that we see his work, his creative— ness; he has conceived “the evil enemy,” the “evil one,” and indeed that is the root idea from which he now evolves as a contrasting and corresponding fig- ure a “good one,” himself—his very self! The method of this man is quite contrary to that of the aristocratic man, who conceives the root idea “good” spontaneously and straight away, that is to say, out of himself, and from that material then cre- ates 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 “had” and “evil,” how great a difference do they make, in spite of the fact that they have an identical contrary in the idea “good.” But the idea “good” is not the same: much rather let the question be asked, “Who is really evil according to the meaning of the morality of resentment?” In all sternness let it be an— swered thus:—just the good man of the other moral— ity, just the aristocrat, the powerful one, the one who rules, but who is distorted by the venomous eye of resentfulness, into a new colour, a new significa- tion, a new appearance. This particular point we would be the last to deny: the man who learnt to 1 021 know those “good” ones only as enemies, learnt at the same time not to know them only as “evil en- emies,” and the same men who . . . were kept so rigorously in bounds through convention, respect, custom, and gratitude, though much more through mutual vigilance and jealousy, . . . these men who in their relations with each other find so many new ways of manifesting consideration, self—control, delicacy, loyalty, pride, and friendship, these men are in reference to what is outside their circle (where the foreign element, a foreign country, be- gins), not much better than beasts of prey, which have been let loose. They enjoy their freedom from all social control, they feel that in the wilderness they can give vent with impunity to that tension which is produced by enclosure and imprisonment in the peace of society, they revert to the innocence of the beast-of-prey conscience, like jubilant mon- sters, who perhaps come from a ghostly bout of murder, arson, rape, and torture, with bravado-and a moral equanimity, as though merely some wild student’s prank had been played, perfectly con- vinced that the poets have now an ample theme to sing and celebrate. It is impossible not to recognise at the core of all these aristocratic races the beast of prey; the magnificent blande brute, avidly ram- pant 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 Home- ric 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 (for exam- ple, when Pericles says to his Athenians in that cel- ebrated funeral oration, “Our audacity has forced a way over every land and sea, rearing everywhere _ imperishable memorials of itself for good and for evil”). This audacity of aristocratic races, mad, ab» surd, and spasmodic as may be its expression; the" incalculable and fantastic nature of their enter— prises, . . . their nonchalance and contempt for safety, body, life, and comfort, their awful/joy and intense delight in all destruction, in all the'ecstasies of victory and cruelty,~—~all these features become: cystallised, for those who suffered thereby in the pic? ture of the “barbarian,” of the “evil enemy,” perhaps of the “Goth” and of the “Vandal.” The profound, icy mistrust which the German provokes, as soon as he arrives at power,—even at the present time,—is :mmuuWh-wwwu mm mam-rm: awwnmmMuW-I 1“Wmuwmmelvannuammnmululuwxum 1 022 always still an aftermath of that inextinguishable horror with which for whole centuries Europe has regarded the wrath of the blonde Teuton beast. . . . . . . One may be perfectly justified in being always afraid of the blonde beast that lies at the core of all aristocratic races, and in being on one’s guard: but whp’ would not a hundred times prefer to be afraid, when one at the same time admires, than to be im— mune from fear, at the cost of being perpetually ob- sessed with the loathsome spectacle of the distorted, the dwarfed, the stunted, the envenomed? And is that not our fate? What produces to-day our repulsion to- .wards “mafia—for we safer 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”; yes, it is that he has a cer- tain right so to consider himself, in so far as he feels that in contrast to that excess of deformity, disease, exhaustion, and effeteness whose odour is beginning to pollute present-day Europe, he at any rate has achieved a relative success, he at any rate still says “yes” to life. Twilight of the Idols MAXIMS AND MISSILES 1. Idleness is the parent of all psychology. What? Is psychology then a—vice? 2. Even the pluckiest among us has but seldom the courage of what he really knows. 3. Aristotle says that in order to live alone, a man must be either an animal or a god. The third al- ternative is lacking: a man must be both-—a philosopher. 4. “All truth is simple.”—Is not this a double lie? 5. Once for all I wish to be blind to many things—«— Wisdom sets bounds even to knowledge. 6. A man recovers best from his exceptional na— tore—his intellectuality—by giving his animal instincts a chance. FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE GOODNESS AND THE WILL TO POWER What is good?—All that enhances the feeling of power, the Will to Power, and the 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 over— come. Not contentment, but more power; not peace at any price but war; not virtue, but competence (virtue in the Renaissance sense, virtu, free from all morai— istic acid). The first principle of our humanism: The weak and the failures shall perish. They ought even - to be helped to perish. - What is more harmful than any vice?—Practical sympathy and pity for all the failures and all the weak: Christianity. Christianity is the religion of pity. Pity opposes the noble passions which heighten our vitality. It has a depressing effect, depriving us of- strength. As we multiply the instances of pity we gradually lose our strength of nobility. Pity makes suffering contagious and under certain conditions it may cause a total loss of life and vitality out of all proportion to the mag- nitude of the cause. . . . Pity is the practice of ni- hilism. '7. Which is it? Is man only a blunder of God? Or is God only a blunder of man? 8. From the military school of lifter—That which does not kill me, makes me stronger. 9. Help thyself, then everyone will help thee. A principle of neighbour-love. 10. A man should not play the coward to his deeds. He should not repudiate them once he has per- formed them. Pangs of conscience are indecent. 11. Can a donkey be tragic?—To perish beneath a load that one can neither bear nor throw off? This is the case of the Philosopher. 12. If a man knows the wherefore of his existence, then the manner of it can take care of itself. Man does not aspire to happiness; only theEnglish- man does that. pun-n— 22. ‘ of whit . no man i Ever, re _. “sunk hammer Kntuw yes-bun? wrtwgm=m ...
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This note was uploaded on 02/02/2012 for the course PHIL 203 taught by Professor Errinclark during the Fall '11 term at MO St. Louis.

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Reading20-Nietzsche-SelectionsBeyondGoodEvil - 'ZSCHE y...

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