Is one simply acting as the result of a paucity of elements, or of such an overwhelming dominion over a host of elements that this power enlists the latter into its service if it
requires
them?
Nietzsche - Works - v15 - Will to Power - b
?
380
THE WILL TO POWER.
lence and his pity: the great disciplinary virtues (" Forgive thine enemies " is mere child's play beside them), and the passions of the creator, must be ele vated to the heights--we must cease from carving marble! The exceptional and powerful position of those creatures (compared with that of all princes hitherto): the Roman Caesar with Christ's souL
984.
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.
985.
The more lofty philosophical man who is sur rounded by loneliness, not because he wishes to be alone, but because he is what he and cannot find his equal: what number of dangers and torments are reserved for him, precisely at the present time, when we have lost our belief in the order of rank,
and consequently no longer know how to under stand or honour this isolation! Formerly the sage almost sanctified himself in the consciences of the mob by going aside in this way tO-day the anchor-- ite sees himself as though enveloped in cloud of gloomydoubt and suspicions. And not alone by the
? ? ? a
;
a
is,
? THE ORDER OF RANK.
381
envious and the wretched : in every well-meant act that he experiences he is bound to discover mis understanding, neglect, and superficiality. He knows the crafty tricks of foolish pity which makes these people feel so good and holy when they attempt to save him from his own destiny, by giving him more comfortable situations and more decent and reliable society. Yes, he will even get to admire the unconscious lust of destruction with which all mediocre spirits stand up and oppose him, believing all the while that they have a holy right to do so! For men of such incomprehensible loneliness it is necessary to put a good stretch of
country between them and the ofiiciousness of their _ fellows: this is part of their prudence. For such a man to maintain himself uppermost to-day amid
the dangerous maelstroms of the age which threaten to draw him under, even cunning and disguise will be necessary. Every attempt he makes to order his life in the present and with the present, every time he draws near to these men and their modern desires, he will have to expiate as if it were an actual sin: and withal he may look with wonder
at the concealed wisdom of his nature, which after every one of these attempts immediately leads him back to himself by means of illnesses and painful
? accidents.
7
986.
" Maledetto colui " che contrista un spirto immortal!
MANZONI (Conte di Carmagnola, Act II. )
? ? ? 382
THE WILL TO POWER.
987
The most difficult and the highest form which man can attain is the most seldom successful: thus the history of philosophy reveals a super abundance of bungled and unhappy cases of man hood, and its march is an extremely slow one; whole centuries intervene and suppress what has
been achieved: and in this way the connecting link is always made to fail. It is an appalling history, this history of the highest men, of the sages--What is most Often damaged is precisely
the recollection Of great men, for the semi-successful and botched cases of mankind misunderstand them and overcome them by their " successes. " Whenever an " effect " is noticeable, the masses gather in a crowd round it; to hear the inferior
and the poor in spirit having their say is a terrible ear-splitting torment for him who knows and trembles at the thought, that the fate of man depends upon the success Of its highest types. -- From the days of my childhood I have reflected upon the sage's conditions of existence, and I will
not conceal my happy conviction that in Europe he has once more become possible--perhaps only for a short time.
988.
These new philosophers begin with a description of a systematic order of rank and difference Of value among men,---what they desire alas precisely the reverse of an assimilation and equalisation of man: they teach estrangement
? ? ? is,
? probably
THE ORDER' OF RANK.
383
in every sense, they cleave gulfs such as have never yet existed, and they would fain have man become more evil than he ever was. For the present they live concealed and estranged even from each other. For many reasons they will find it necessary to be anchorites and to wear masks-- they will therefore be of little use in the matter of seeking for their equals. They will live alone, and
know the torments of all the loneliest forms of loneliness. Should they, however, thanks to any accident, meet each other on the road, I wager that they would not know each other, or that they would deceive each other in a number of ways.
989.
" Les philosophes ne sont pas faits pour s'aimer. Les aigles ne volent point en compagnie. ll faut laisser cela aux perdrix, aux e? tourneaux. . . Planer au-dessus et avoir des griffes, voila le lot des grands ge? nies. "-'--GALIANI.
990.
I forgot to say that such philosophers are cheerful, and that they like to sit in the abyss of a perfectly clear sky: they are in need of different means for enduring life than other men ; for they suffer in a different way (that is to say, just as much from the depth of their contempt of man as from their love of man). --The animal which suffered most on earth discovered for itself
~laughter.
? ? ? ? 384
THE WILL TO POWER.
99! .
the misunderstanding of "cheerful ncss. "--It is a temporary relief from long tension;
it is the wantonness, the Saturnalia of a spirit, which is consecrating and preparing itself for long and terrible resolutions. The " fool " in the form of " science. "
992.
The new order of rank among spirits; tragic natures no longer in the van.
993
It is a comfort to me to know that over the smoke and filth of human baseness there is a higher and brighter mankind, which, judging from their number, must be a small race (for everything that is in any way distinguished is ipsofacto rare). A man does not belong to this race because he happens to be more gifted, more virtuous, more heroic, or more loving than the men below, but because he is colder, brighter, more far-sighted, and more lonely; because he endures, prefers, and even insists upon, loneliness as the joy, the privilege, yea, even the condition of existence ; because he lives amid
clouds and lightnings as among his equals, and likewise among sunrays, dewdrops, snowflakes, and all that which must needs come from the heights, and which in its course moves ever from heavento
earth. The desire to look aloft is not our desire. --Heroes, martyrs, geniuses, and enthusiasts of all
Concerning
? ? ? ? a.
are men who are the heirs and masters of this slowly acquired and manifold treasure of virtues and proficiences--because, owing to happy and
' reasonable marriages and also to lucky accidents, the acquired and accumulated forces of many
THE ORDER OF RANK.
385
kinds, are not quiet, patient, subtle, cold, or slow enough fOr us.
994
The absolute conviction that valuations above and below are different; that innumerable ex periences are wanting to the latter: that when looking upwards from below misunderstandings are necessary.
995
How do men attain to great power and to great tasks? All the! virtues and proficiences of the body and the? soul are little by little laboriously acquired, through great industry, self-control, and keeping one's self within narrow bounds, through
' frequent, energetic, and genuine repetition of the
? same work and of the same hardships; but there at
instead of being squandered and
generations,
subdivided, have 'been assembled
means of steadfast struggling and willing. And thus, in the end, man appears who such
monster of strength, that he craves for monstrous task. For our power which has command of us: and the wretched intellectual play of aims and intentions and motivations lies only in the foreground--however much weak eyes
may recognise the principal factors in these things VOL. II. 213
together by
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? 386
THE WILL To POWER.
996.
The sublime man has the highest value, even when he is most delicate and fragile, because an abundance of very difficult and rare things have been reared through many generations and united
in him.
997
I teach that there are higher and lower men, and that a single individual may under certain cir cumstances justify whole millenniums of existence ---that is to say, a wealthier, more gifted, greater, and more complete man, as compared with in
? numerable
imperfect and fragmentary men.
998.
Away from rulers and rid of all bonds, live the highest men: and in the rulers they have their instruments.
999
The order of rank : he who determines values and leads the will of millenniums, and does this by leading the highest natures--he is the highest
man.
'
1000.
I fancy I have divined some of the things that lie hidden in the soul of the highest man; perhaps every man who has divined so much must go to ruin: but he who has seen the highest man must do all he can to make him possible.
? ? ? THE ORDER OF RANK.
387
Fundamental thought we must make the future the standard Of all our valuations--and not seek the laws for our conduct behind us.
1001.
Not " mankind," but Superman the goal
1002.
" Come l'uom s'eterna. . . "-]nf. xv. 85.
? ? ? _aw
.
is
!
:
? II. DIONYSUS.
1003.
To him who is one of Nature's lucky strokes, to him unto whom my heart goes out, to him who is carved from one integral block, which is hard, sweet, and fragrant--to him from whom even my nose can derive some pleasure--let this book be dedicated.
He enjoys that which is beneficial to him.
His pleasure in anything ceases when the limits of what is beneficial to him are overstepped.
He divines the remedies for partial injuries; his illnesses are the great stimulants of his existence.
He understands how to exploit his serious ,
accidents.
He grows stronger under the misfortunes which
threaten to annihilate him.
He instinctively gathers from all he sees, hears,
and experiences, the materials for what concerns him most,--he pursues a selective principle,---he rejects a good deal.
He reacts with that tardiness which long caution 388
? -
? ? ? I
i
and deliberate pride have bred in him,--he tests the stimulus: whence does it come? whither does it lead ? He does not submit.
He is always in his own company, whether his intercourse be with books, with men, or with
'Nature.
'He honours anything by choosing by
conceding to by trusting it.
1004.
We should attain to such height, to such
lofty eagle's ledge, in our Observation, as to be able to understand that everything happens,
just as ought to happen and that all " imperfec tion," and the pain brings, belong to all that which most eminently desirable.
1005.
Towards 18 76 experienced fright; for saw that everything had most wished for up to that time was being compromised. realised this when perceived what Wagner was actually driving at: and was bound very fast to him by all the bonds of profound similarity of needs, by gratitude, by the thought that he could not be replaced, and by the absolute void which saw facing me.
about this time believed myself to be inextricably entangled in my philology and my professorship--in the accident and last shift of my life: did not know how to get out of and was tired, used up, and on my last legs.
a )
Just
DIONYSUS.
'389
? ? ? I
I
a is
it, I
it,
I
I
it,
a I:
I
a
I
it
I
it
a
? 390
THE WILL TO POWER.
At about the same time I realised that what my instincts most desired to attain was precisely the reverse of what Schopenhauer's instincts wanted --that is to say, a justification of life, even where it was most terrible, most equivocal, and most ' false: to this end, I had the formula " Dionysian " in my hand. "
Schopenhauer's interpretation of the " absolute as will was certainly a step towards that concept of the "absolute" which supposed it to be necessarily good, blessed, true, and integral; but Schopenhauer did not understand how to deify this will: he remained suspended in the moral Christian ideal. Indeed, he was still so very much under the dominion of Christian values, that, once he could no longer regard the absolute as God, he had to conceive it as evil, foolish, utterly reprehensible. He did not realise that
there is an infinite number of ways of being different, and even of being God.
1006.
Hitherto, moral values have been the highest
? If we bring down the values from their pedestal, we thereby alter all values : the principle of their order
of rank which has prevailed hitherto is thus over thrown.
Ioo7.
Transvalue values-what does this mean? It implies that all spontaneous motives, all new,
values: does anybody doubt this? . . .
? ? ? DIONYSUS.
391
future, and stronger motives, are still extant; but that they now appear under false names and false valuations, and have not yet become conscious of themselves.
We ought to have the courage to become conscious, and to affirm all that which has been attained--to get rid of the humdrum character of Old valuations, which makes us unworthy of the best and strongest things that we have achieved.
1008.
Any doctrine would be superfluous for which WV everything is not already prepared in the way of accumulated forces and explosive material. A
transvaluation of values can only be accomplished when there is a tension of new needs, and a new set of needy people who feel all old values as painful,--although they are not conscious of What is wrong. '
1009.
The standpoint from which my values are determined: is abundance or desire active? . . . Is one a mere spectator, or is one's own shoulder at
the wheel--is one looking away or is one turning aside? . . . Is one acting spontaneously, as the result of accumulated strength, or is one merely reacting to a goad or to a stimulus? . . .
Is one simply acting as the result of a paucity of elements, or of such an overwhelming dominion over a host of elements that this power enlists the latter into its service if it requires them? . . . Is one a
? ? ? ? 392
THE WILL TO POWER.
problem one's self or is one a solution already ? . . . Is one perfect through the smallness of the task, or imperfect owing to the extraordinary character of the aim? . . . Is one genuine or only an actor; is one genuine as an actor, or only the bad copy of
an actor? is one a representative or the creature represented? Is one a personality or merely a
rendezvous of personalities? . . . Is one ill from a disease or from surplus health? Does one lead as a shepherd, or as an " exception " (third alternative: as a fugitive)? Is one in need of dignity, or can one play the clown? Is one in search Of resistance, or is one evading it? Is one imperfect owing to one's precocity or to one's tardiness? Is it one's nature to say yea, or no, or is one a peacock's tail of garish parts? Is one proud enough not to feel ashamed even of one's vanity? Is one still able to feel a bite of conscience (this species is becoming rare ; formerly conscience had to bite too often : it is as if it now no longer had enough teeth to do so)? Is one still capable of a, "duty"? (there are some people who would lose the whole joy of their lives if they were deprived of their duty--this holds good especially of feminine creatures, who are born subjects).
IOIO.
Supposing our common comprehension of the universe were a misunderstanding, would it be
? to conceive of a form of perfection, within the limits of which even such a misunderstanding as this could be sanctioned? _
possible
The concept of a new form of perfection: that
? ? ? DIONYSUS.
393
which does not correspond to our logic, to our "beauty," to our " good," to our "truth," might be perfect in a higher sense even than our ideal is.
101 I.
Our most important limitation: we must not deify the unknown ; we are just beginning to know so little. The false and wasted endeavours.
Our " new world ": we must ascertain to what extent we are the creators of our valuations--we will thus be able to put " sense " into history.
This belief in truth is reaching its final logical conclusion in us--ye know how it reads: that if there is anything at all that must be worshipped it is appearance; that falsehood and not truth is-- divine.
1012.
' He who urges rational thought forward, thereby also drives its antagonistic power--mysticism and foolery of every kind--to new feats of strength.
We should recognise that every movement is (1) partly the manifestation of fatigue resulting from a previous movement (satiety after the malice of weakness towards and disease) and (2) partly a newly awakened accumulation of long slumbering forces, and therefore wanton, violent, healthy.
1013.
Health and morbidness: let us be careful The standard the bloom of the body, the agility, courage, and cheerfulness of the mind--but also, of
? ? ? is
!
it,
;
it,
? 394
THE WILL TO POWER.
course, how much morbidness a man can bear and overcome,--~and convert into health. That which would send more delicate natures t0 the dogs, belongs to the stimulating means ofgreat health.
1014.
It is only a question of power: to have all the morbid traits of the century, but to balance them by means of overflowing, plastic, and rejuvenating power. The strong man.
1015.
Concerningthe strength of the nineteenth century. -- We are more mediaeval than the eighteenth century ; not only more inquisitive or more susceptible to the strange and to the rare. We have revolted against the Revolution. . . . We have freed ourselves from the fear of reason, which was the spectre of the
eighteenth century: we once' more dare tO- be childish, lyrical, absurd,--in a word, _" we are musicians. " And we are just as little frightened of the ridiculous as of the absurd. ' The devil finds that he is tolerated even by God: better still, he has become interesting as one who has been mis understood and slandered for ages,--we are the saviours of the devil's honour.
We no longer separate the great from the terrible. We reconcile good things, in all their complexity,
* This is reminiscent of Goethe's Faust. See " Prologue in Heaven. "--TR.
? ? ? ? DIONYSUS.
395
with the very worst things; we have overcome the desideratum of the past (which wanted goodness to grow without the increase of evil). The cowardice towards the ideal, peculiar to the Renaissance, has diminished--we even dare to aspire to the latter's morality. Intolerance towards priests and the Church has at the same time come to an end "It
immoral to believe in God "--but this pre cisely what we regard as the best possible justifica tion of this belief.
On all these things we have conferred the civic rights of our minds. We do not tremble before the back side of "good things " (we even look
we are brave and inquisitive enough for that), of Greek antiquity, of morality, of reason, of good taste, for instance (we reckon up the losses which we incur with all this treasure: we almost reduce ourselves to poverty with such treasure). Neither do we conceal the back side of " evil things"
? w"
for
from ourselves.
1016.
That which does us honour. --If anything does us honour, this: we" have transferred our serious ness to other things; all those things which have been despised and laid aside as base by all ages, we regard as important--on the other hand, we surrender " fine feelings " at cheap rate.
Could any aberration be more dangerous than the contempt of the body? As all intellectuality
,were not thereby condemned to become morbid, and to take refuge in the vapeurs of "idealism "!
Nothing that has been thought out by Christians
.
? ? a if
it is
'
is
a
"a".
m_
it,
is ;
? 396
THE WILL TO POWER.
and idealists holds water: we are more radical. We have discovered the "smallest world " every where as the most decisive.
The paving-stones in the streets, good air in our rooms, food understood according to its worth: we value all the necessaries of life seriously, and despise all " beautiful soulfulness " as a form of " levity and frivolity. " That which has been most
hitherto, is now pressed into the front rank.
1017
'
In the place of Rousseau's "man of Nature," the nineteenth century has discovered a much more genuine image of " Man,"-it had the courage to do this. . . . On the whole, the Christian concept of man has in a way been reinstalled. What we have not had the courage to do, was to call precisely this "man par excellence," good, and to see the future of mankind guaranteed in him. In the
same way, we did not dare to regard the growth in the terrible side of man's character as an ac companying feature of every advance in culture; in this sense we are still under the influence of the Christian ideal, and side with it against paganism, and likewise against the Renaissance concept of virtu. But the key of culture is not' to be found in this way: and in praxi we still have the forgeries of history in favour of the "good man" (as if he alone constituted the progress of humanity) and the socialistic ideal (i. e. the residue of Christianity and of Rousseau in the de Christianised world).
'
despised
? ? ? ? D1ONYsus.
397
The fight against the eighteenth century meets with its greatest conquerors in Goethe and Napoleon. Schopenhauer, too, fights against the eighteenth century; but he returns involuntarily to the seventeenth--he modern Pascal, with Pascalian valuations, without Christianity. Schopenhauer was not strong enough to invent new yea.
Napoleon we see the necessary relationship between the higher and the terrible man. " Man " reinstalled, and her due Of contempt and fear re
stored to woman. Highest activity and health are the signs of the great man; the straight line and grand style rediscovered in action; the mightiest of all instincts, that of life itself,---the lust of dominion,----heartily welcomed
1018.
(Revue des deux mondes, 15th February 1887. Taine concerning Napoleon) "Suddenly the master faculty reveals itself: the artist, which was latent in the politician, comes forth from his
scabbard; he creates dans l'ide? al et l'impossible. He once more recognised as that which he is: the
? brother of Dante and of Michelangelo; and verily, in view of the definite contours of his vision, the intensity, the coherence, and inner con sistency of his dream, the depth of his meditations, the superhuman greatness of his conception, he
-. . their equal son ge'nie a la meme tail/e et la meme
structure; est un des trois eqorits souverains de
la renaissance italienne. "
'
posthumous
Nota Ilene--Dante, Michelangelo, Napoleon.
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:
-\W. -_--'M. . __
. 1\. _
is
is
a
is a
: it
? 398
THE WILL To POWER.
I019.
Concerning the pessimism of strength--In the internal economy of the primitive man's soul, the fear of evil preponderates. What is evil? Three kinds of things: accident, uncertainty, the unex pected. How does primitive man combat evil ? --
He conceives it as a thing of reason, of power, even as a person. By this means he is enabled to make treaties with and generally to operate upon in advance--to forestall it.
---Another expedient to declare its evil and harmful character to be but apparent: the conse quences of accidental occurrences, and 0f uncer tainty and the unexpected, are interpreted as well meant, as reasonable.
---A third means to interpret evil, above all,
? as merited: evil thus justified as
--In short, man submits to it: all religious
and moral interpretations are but forms of sub mission to evil--The belief that good purpose lies behind all evil, implies the renunciation of any desire to combat it.
Now, the, history of every culture shows a diminution of this fear of the accidental, of the uncertain, and of the unexpected. Culture means precisely, to learn to reckon, to discover causes, to acquire the power of forestalling events, to acquire belief in necessity. With the growth of culture, man able to dispense with that primitive form of submission to evil (called religion or morality), and that "justification of evil. " Now he wages war against " evil,"--he gets rid of it. Yes, state of
punishment.
? ? a
is
a
a
a
is
is
is
.
it,
it
? DIONYSUS.
399
security, of belief in law and the possibility of cal culation, possible, in which consciousness regards these things with tedium,-in which the joy of the accidental, of the uncertain, and of the unexpected, actually becomes spur.
Let us halt moment before this symptom of highest culture,--I call the pessimism of strength. Man now no longer requires "justification of evil justification precisely what he abhors: he enjoys evil, far, one he regards purposeless evil as the most interesting kind of evil. If he had required God in the past, he now delights in cosmic disorder without God, world of accident, to the essence of which terror, ambiguity, and seductiveness belong.
In state of this sort, precisely goodness which requires to be justified--that to say, must either have an evil and dangerous basis, or else must contain a vast amount of stupidity: in which case still pleases. Animality no longer awakens terror now; avery intellectual and happy wanton spirit in favour of the animal in man, in such periods, the most triumphant form Of spirit uality. Man now strong enough to be able to feel ashamed of a belief in God: he may now play the part of the devil's advocate afresh. If in practice he pretends to uphold virtue, will be for those reasons which lead virtue to be associated with subtlety, cunning, lust of gain, and form of the lust of power. ,
This pessimism of strength also ends in theo dicy, i. e. in an absolute saying Of yea to. the world ---but the same arguments will be raised in favour Of
? ? ? a
it a
is
is
it
a
a
a
is,
ita ";
a
is
a
a
it
a; it
is
it
. 90. . _m___,__
_.
.
is
? 400
THE WILL TO POWER.
life which forinerly were raised against it: and in this way, in a conception of this world as the highest ideal possible, which has been effectively attained.
I
I020.
The principal kinds of pessimism :--
The pessimism of sensitiveness (excessive irrit
ability with a preponderance of the feelings of pain). The pessimism of the will that is not free (other wise expressed: the lack of resisting power a
gainst stimuli).
The pessimism of doubt (shyness in regard to
everything fixed, in regard to all grasping and touching).
The psychological conditions which belong to these different kinds of pessimism, may all be ob served in a lunatic asylum, even though they are there found in a slightly exaggerated form. The same applies to" Nihilism " (the penetrating feeling of " nonentity '
What, however, the nature of Pascal's moral pessimism, and the metaphysical pessimism of the Vedanta-Philosophy? What the nature of the social pessimism of anarchists (as of Shelley), and of the pessimism of compassion (like that of Leo, Tolstoy and of Alfred de Vigny)?
. Are all these things not also the phenomena of decay and sickness? And not excessive seriousness in regard to moral values, or in regard to "other-world" fictions, or social calamities, or sufiering in general, of the same order? All such exaggeration of single and narrow standpoint
? ? ? a
"). is
is
. . .
is
is
? (2)
VOL.
THE WILL TO POWER.
lence and his pity: the great disciplinary virtues (" Forgive thine enemies " is mere child's play beside them), and the passions of the creator, must be ele vated to the heights--we must cease from carving marble! The exceptional and powerful position of those creatures (compared with that of all princes hitherto): the Roman Caesar with Christ's souL
984.
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.
985.
The more lofty philosophical man who is sur rounded by loneliness, not because he wishes to be alone, but because he is what he and cannot find his equal: what number of dangers and torments are reserved for him, precisely at the present time, when we have lost our belief in the order of rank,
and consequently no longer know how to under stand or honour this isolation! Formerly the sage almost sanctified himself in the consciences of the mob by going aside in this way tO-day the anchor-- ite sees himself as though enveloped in cloud of gloomydoubt and suspicions. And not alone by the
? ? ? a
;
a
is,
? THE ORDER OF RANK.
381
envious and the wretched : in every well-meant act that he experiences he is bound to discover mis understanding, neglect, and superficiality. He knows the crafty tricks of foolish pity which makes these people feel so good and holy when they attempt to save him from his own destiny, by giving him more comfortable situations and more decent and reliable society. Yes, he will even get to admire the unconscious lust of destruction with which all mediocre spirits stand up and oppose him, believing all the while that they have a holy right to do so! For men of such incomprehensible loneliness it is necessary to put a good stretch of
country between them and the ofiiciousness of their _ fellows: this is part of their prudence. For such a man to maintain himself uppermost to-day amid
the dangerous maelstroms of the age which threaten to draw him under, even cunning and disguise will be necessary. Every attempt he makes to order his life in the present and with the present, every time he draws near to these men and their modern desires, he will have to expiate as if it were an actual sin: and withal he may look with wonder
at the concealed wisdom of his nature, which after every one of these attempts immediately leads him back to himself by means of illnesses and painful
? accidents.
7
986.
" Maledetto colui " che contrista un spirto immortal!
MANZONI (Conte di Carmagnola, Act II. )
? ? ? 382
THE WILL TO POWER.
987
The most difficult and the highest form which man can attain is the most seldom successful: thus the history of philosophy reveals a super abundance of bungled and unhappy cases of man hood, and its march is an extremely slow one; whole centuries intervene and suppress what has
been achieved: and in this way the connecting link is always made to fail. It is an appalling history, this history of the highest men, of the sages--What is most Often damaged is precisely
the recollection Of great men, for the semi-successful and botched cases of mankind misunderstand them and overcome them by their " successes. " Whenever an " effect " is noticeable, the masses gather in a crowd round it; to hear the inferior
and the poor in spirit having their say is a terrible ear-splitting torment for him who knows and trembles at the thought, that the fate of man depends upon the success Of its highest types. -- From the days of my childhood I have reflected upon the sage's conditions of existence, and I will
not conceal my happy conviction that in Europe he has once more become possible--perhaps only for a short time.
988.
These new philosophers begin with a description of a systematic order of rank and difference Of value among men,---what they desire alas precisely the reverse of an assimilation and equalisation of man: they teach estrangement
? ? ? is,
? probably
THE ORDER' OF RANK.
383
in every sense, they cleave gulfs such as have never yet existed, and they would fain have man become more evil than he ever was. For the present they live concealed and estranged even from each other. For many reasons they will find it necessary to be anchorites and to wear masks-- they will therefore be of little use in the matter of seeking for their equals. They will live alone, and
know the torments of all the loneliest forms of loneliness. Should they, however, thanks to any accident, meet each other on the road, I wager that they would not know each other, or that they would deceive each other in a number of ways.
989.
" Les philosophes ne sont pas faits pour s'aimer. Les aigles ne volent point en compagnie. ll faut laisser cela aux perdrix, aux e? tourneaux. . . Planer au-dessus et avoir des griffes, voila le lot des grands ge? nies. "-'--GALIANI.
990.
I forgot to say that such philosophers are cheerful, and that they like to sit in the abyss of a perfectly clear sky: they are in need of different means for enduring life than other men ; for they suffer in a different way (that is to say, just as much from the depth of their contempt of man as from their love of man). --The animal which suffered most on earth discovered for itself
~laughter.
? ? ? ? 384
THE WILL TO POWER.
99! .
the misunderstanding of "cheerful ncss. "--It is a temporary relief from long tension;
it is the wantonness, the Saturnalia of a spirit, which is consecrating and preparing itself for long and terrible resolutions. The " fool " in the form of " science. "
992.
The new order of rank among spirits; tragic natures no longer in the van.
993
It is a comfort to me to know that over the smoke and filth of human baseness there is a higher and brighter mankind, which, judging from their number, must be a small race (for everything that is in any way distinguished is ipsofacto rare). A man does not belong to this race because he happens to be more gifted, more virtuous, more heroic, or more loving than the men below, but because he is colder, brighter, more far-sighted, and more lonely; because he endures, prefers, and even insists upon, loneliness as the joy, the privilege, yea, even the condition of existence ; because he lives amid
clouds and lightnings as among his equals, and likewise among sunrays, dewdrops, snowflakes, and all that which must needs come from the heights, and which in its course moves ever from heavento
earth. The desire to look aloft is not our desire. --Heroes, martyrs, geniuses, and enthusiasts of all
Concerning
? ? ? ? a.
are men who are the heirs and masters of this slowly acquired and manifold treasure of virtues and proficiences--because, owing to happy and
' reasonable marriages and also to lucky accidents, the acquired and accumulated forces of many
THE ORDER OF RANK.
385
kinds, are not quiet, patient, subtle, cold, or slow enough fOr us.
994
The absolute conviction that valuations above and below are different; that innumerable ex periences are wanting to the latter: that when looking upwards from below misunderstandings are necessary.
995
How do men attain to great power and to great tasks? All the! virtues and proficiences of the body and the? soul are little by little laboriously acquired, through great industry, self-control, and keeping one's self within narrow bounds, through
' frequent, energetic, and genuine repetition of the
? same work and of the same hardships; but there at
instead of being squandered and
generations,
subdivided, have 'been assembled
means of steadfast struggling and willing. And thus, in the end, man appears who such
monster of strength, that he craves for monstrous task. For our power which has command of us: and the wretched intellectual play of aims and intentions and motivations lies only in the foreground--however much weak eyes
may recognise the principal factors in these things VOL. II. 213
together by
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THE WILL To POWER.
996.
The sublime man has the highest value, even when he is most delicate and fragile, because an abundance of very difficult and rare things have been reared through many generations and united
in him.
997
I teach that there are higher and lower men, and that a single individual may under certain cir cumstances justify whole millenniums of existence ---that is to say, a wealthier, more gifted, greater, and more complete man, as compared with in
? numerable
imperfect and fragmentary men.
998.
Away from rulers and rid of all bonds, live the highest men: and in the rulers they have their instruments.
999
The order of rank : he who determines values and leads the will of millenniums, and does this by leading the highest natures--he is the highest
man.
'
1000.
I fancy I have divined some of the things that lie hidden in the soul of the highest man; perhaps every man who has divined so much must go to ruin: but he who has seen the highest man must do all he can to make him possible.
? ? ? THE ORDER OF RANK.
387
Fundamental thought we must make the future the standard Of all our valuations--and not seek the laws for our conduct behind us.
1001.
Not " mankind," but Superman the goal
1002.
" Come l'uom s'eterna. . . "-]nf. xv. 85.
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.
is
!
:
? II. DIONYSUS.
1003.
To him who is one of Nature's lucky strokes, to him unto whom my heart goes out, to him who is carved from one integral block, which is hard, sweet, and fragrant--to him from whom even my nose can derive some pleasure--let this book be dedicated.
He enjoys that which is beneficial to him.
His pleasure in anything ceases when the limits of what is beneficial to him are overstepped.
He divines the remedies for partial injuries; his illnesses are the great stimulants of his existence.
He understands how to exploit his serious ,
accidents.
He grows stronger under the misfortunes which
threaten to annihilate him.
He instinctively gathers from all he sees, hears,
and experiences, the materials for what concerns him most,--he pursues a selective principle,---he rejects a good deal.
He reacts with that tardiness which long caution 388
? -
? ? ? I
i
and deliberate pride have bred in him,--he tests the stimulus: whence does it come? whither does it lead ? He does not submit.
He is always in his own company, whether his intercourse be with books, with men, or with
'Nature.
'He honours anything by choosing by
conceding to by trusting it.
1004.
We should attain to such height, to such
lofty eagle's ledge, in our Observation, as to be able to understand that everything happens,
just as ought to happen and that all " imperfec tion," and the pain brings, belong to all that which most eminently desirable.
1005.
Towards 18 76 experienced fright; for saw that everything had most wished for up to that time was being compromised. realised this when perceived what Wagner was actually driving at: and was bound very fast to him by all the bonds of profound similarity of needs, by gratitude, by the thought that he could not be replaced, and by the absolute void which saw facing me.
about this time believed myself to be inextricably entangled in my philology and my professorship--in the accident and last shift of my life: did not know how to get out of and was tired, used up, and on my last legs.
a )
Just
DIONYSUS.
'389
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? 390
THE WILL TO POWER.
At about the same time I realised that what my instincts most desired to attain was precisely the reverse of what Schopenhauer's instincts wanted --that is to say, a justification of life, even where it was most terrible, most equivocal, and most ' false: to this end, I had the formula " Dionysian " in my hand. "
Schopenhauer's interpretation of the " absolute as will was certainly a step towards that concept of the "absolute" which supposed it to be necessarily good, blessed, true, and integral; but Schopenhauer did not understand how to deify this will: he remained suspended in the moral Christian ideal. Indeed, he was still so very much under the dominion of Christian values, that, once he could no longer regard the absolute as God, he had to conceive it as evil, foolish, utterly reprehensible. He did not realise that
there is an infinite number of ways of being different, and even of being God.
1006.
Hitherto, moral values have been the highest
? If we bring down the values from their pedestal, we thereby alter all values : the principle of their order
of rank which has prevailed hitherto is thus over thrown.
Ioo7.
Transvalue values-what does this mean? It implies that all spontaneous motives, all new,
values: does anybody doubt this? . . .
? ? ? DIONYSUS.
391
future, and stronger motives, are still extant; but that they now appear under false names and false valuations, and have not yet become conscious of themselves.
We ought to have the courage to become conscious, and to affirm all that which has been attained--to get rid of the humdrum character of Old valuations, which makes us unworthy of the best and strongest things that we have achieved.
1008.
Any doctrine would be superfluous for which WV everything is not already prepared in the way of accumulated forces and explosive material. A
transvaluation of values can only be accomplished when there is a tension of new needs, and a new set of needy people who feel all old values as painful,--although they are not conscious of What is wrong. '
1009.
The standpoint from which my values are determined: is abundance or desire active? . . . Is one a mere spectator, or is one's own shoulder at
the wheel--is one looking away or is one turning aside? . . . Is one acting spontaneously, as the result of accumulated strength, or is one merely reacting to a goad or to a stimulus? . . .
Is one simply acting as the result of a paucity of elements, or of such an overwhelming dominion over a host of elements that this power enlists the latter into its service if it requires them? . . . Is one a
? ? ? ? 392
THE WILL TO POWER.
problem one's self or is one a solution already ? . . . Is one perfect through the smallness of the task, or imperfect owing to the extraordinary character of the aim? . . . Is one genuine or only an actor; is one genuine as an actor, or only the bad copy of
an actor? is one a representative or the creature represented? Is one a personality or merely a
rendezvous of personalities? . . . Is one ill from a disease or from surplus health? Does one lead as a shepherd, or as an " exception " (third alternative: as a fugitive)? Is one in need of dignity, or can one play the clown? Is one in search Of resistance, or is one evading it? Is one imperfect owing to one's precocity or to one's tardiness? Is it one's nature to say yea, or no, or is one a peacock's tail of garish parts? Is one proud enough not to feel ashamed even of one's vanity? Is one still able to feel a bite of conscience (this species is becoming rare ; formerly conscience had to bite too often : it is as if it now no longer had enough teeth to do so)? Is one still capable of a, "duty"? (there are some people who would lose the whole joy of their lives if they were deprived of their duty--this holds good especially of feminine creatures, who are born subjects).
IOIO.
Supposing our common comprehension of the universe were a misunderstanding, would it be
? to conceive of a form of perfection, within the limits of which even such a misunderstanding as this could be sanctioned? _
possible
The concept of a new form of perfection: that
? ? ? DIONYSUS.
393
which does not correspond to our logic, to our "beauty," to our " good," to our "truth," might be perfect in a higher sense even than our ideal is.
101 I.
Our most important limitation: we must not deify the unknown ; we are just beginning to know so little. The false and wasted endeavours.
Our " new world ": we must ascertain to what extent we are the creators of our valuations--we will thus be able to put " sense " into history.
This belief in truth is reaching its final logical conclusion in us--ye know how it reads: that if there is anything at all that must be worshipped it is appearance; that falsehood and not truth is-- divine.
1012.
' He who urges rational thought forward, thereby also drives its antagonistic power--mysticism and foolery of every kind--to new feats of strength.
We should recognise that every movement is (1) partly the manifestation of fatigue resulting from a previous movement (satiety after the malice of weakness towards and disease) and (2) partly a newly awakened accumulation of long slumbering forces, and therefore wanton, violent, healthy.
1013.
Health and morbidness: let us be careful The standard the bloom of the body, the agility, courage, and cheerfulness of the mind--but also, of
? ? ? is
!
it,
;
it,
? 394
THE WILL TO POWER.
course, how much morbidness a man can bear and overcome,--~and convert into health. That which would send more delicate natures t0 the dogs, belongs to the stimulating means ofgreat health.
1014.
It is only a question of power: to have all the morbid traits of the century, but to balance them by means of overflowing, plastic, and rejuvenating power. The strong man.
1015.
Concerningthe strength of the nineteenth century. -- We are more mediaeval than the eighteenth century ; not only more inquisitive or more susceptible to the strange and to the rare. We have revolted against the Revolution. . . . We have freed ourselves from the fear of reason, which was the spectre of the
eighteenth century: we once' more dare tO- be childish, lyrical, absurd,--in a word, _" we are musicians. " And we are just as little frightened of the ridiculous as of the absurd. ' The devil finds that he is tolerated even by God: better still, he has become interesting as one who has been mis understood and slandered for ages,--we are the saviours of the devil's honour.
We no longer separate the great from the terrible. We reconcile good things, in all their complexity,
* This is reminiscent of Goethe's Faust. See " Prologue in Heaven. "--TR.
? ? ? ? DIONYSUS.
395
with the very worst things; we have overcome the desideratum of the past (which wanted goodness to grow without the increase of evil). The cowardice towards the ideal, peculiar to the Renaissance, has diminished--we even dare to aspire to the latter's morality. Intolerance towards priests and the Church has at the same time come to an end "It
immoral to believe in God "--but this pre cisely what we regard as the best possible justifica tion of this belief.
On all these things we have conferred the civic rights of our minds. We do not tremble before the back side of "good things " (we even look
we are brave and inquisitive enough for that), of Greek antiquity, of morality, of reason, of good taste, for instance (we reckon up the losses which we incur with all this treasure: we almost reduce ourselves to poverty with such treasure). Neither do we conceal the back side of " evil things"
? w"
for
from ourselves.
1016.
That which does us honour. --If anything does us honour, this: we" have transferred our serious ness to other things; all those things which have been despised and laid aside as base by all ages, we regard as important--on the other hand, we surrender " fine feelings " at cheap rate.
Could any aberration be more dangerous than the contempt of the body? As all intellectuality
,were not thereby condemned to become morbid, and to take refuge in the vapeurs of "idealism "!
Nothing that has been thought out by Christians
.
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it is
'
is
a
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m_
it,
is ;
? 396
THE WILL TO POWER.
and idealists holds water: we are more radical. We have discovered the "smallest world " every where as the most decisive.
The paving-stones in the streets, good air in our rooms, food understood according to its worth: we value all the necessaries of life seriously, and despise all " beautiful soulfulness " as a form of " levity and frivolity. " That which has been most
hitherto, is now pressed into the front rank.
1017
'
In the place of Rousseau's "man of Nature," the nineteenth century has discovered a much more genuine image of " Man,"-it had the courage to do this. . . . On the whole, the Christian concept of man has in a way been reinstalled. What we have not had the courage to do, was to call precisely this "man par excellence," good, and to see the future of mankind guaranteed in him. In the
same way, we did not dare to regard the growth in the terrible side of man's character as an ac companying feature of every advance in culture; in this sense we are still under the influence of the Christian ideal, and side with it against paganism, and likewise against the Renaissance concept of virtu. But the key of culture is not' to be found in this way: and in praxi we still have the forgeries of history in favour of the "good man" (as if he alone constituted the progress of humanity) and the socialistic ideal (i. e. the residue of Christianity and of Rousseau in the de Christianised world).
'
despised
? ? ? ? D1ONYsus.
397
The fight against the eighteenth century meets with its greatest conquerors in Goethe and Napoleon. Schopenhauer, too, fights against the eighteenth century; but he returns involuntarily to the seventeenth--he modern Pascal, with Pascalian valuations, without Christianity. Schopenhauer was not strong enough to invent new yea.
Napoleon we see the necessary relationship between the higher and the terrible man. " Man " reinstalled, and her due Of contempt and fear re
stored to woman. Highest activity and health are the signs of the great man; the straight line and grand style rediscovered in action; the mightiest of all instincts, that of life itself,---the lust of dominion,----heartily welcomed
1018.
(Revue des deux mondes, 15th February 1887. Taine concerning Napoleon) "Suddenly the master faculty reveals itself: the artist, which was latent in the politician, comes forth from his
scabbard; he creates dans l'ide? al et l'impossible. He once more recognised as that which he is: the
? brother of Dante and of Michelangelo; and verily, in view of the definite contours of his vision, the intensity, the coherence, and inner con sistency of his dream, the depth of his meditations, the superhuman greatness of his conception, he
-. . their equal son ge'nie a la meme tail/e et la meme
structure; est un des trois eqorits souverains de
la renaissance italienne. "
'
posthumous
Nota Ilene--Dante, Michelangelo, Napoleon.
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:
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is
is
a
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: it
? 398
THE WILL To POWER.
I019.
Concerning the pessimism of strength--In the internal economy of the primitive man's soul, the fear of evil preponderates. What is evil? Three kinds of things: accident, uncertainty, the unex pected. How does primitive man combat evil ? --
He conceives it as a thing of reason, of power, even as a person. By this means he is enabled to make treaties with and generally to operate upon in advance--to forestall it.
---Another expedient to declare its evil and harmful character to be but apparent: the conse quences of accidental occurrences, and 0f uncer tainty and the unexpected, are interpreted as well meant, as reasonable.
---A third means to interpret evil, above all,
? as merited: evil thus justified as
--In short, man submits to it: all religious
and moral interpretations are but forms of sub mission to evil--The belief that good purpose lies behind all evil, implies the renunciation of any desire to combat it.
Now, the, history of every culture shows a diminution of this fear of the accidental, of the uncertain, and of the unexpected. Culture means precisely, to learn to reckon, to discover causes, to acquire the power of forestalling events, to acquire belief in necessity. With the growth of culture, man able to dispense with that primitive form of submission to evil (called religion or morality), and that "justification of evil. " Now he wages war against " evil,"--he gets rid of it. Yes, state of
punishment.
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is
a
a
a
is
is
is
.
it,
it
? DIONYSUS.
399
security, of belief in law and the possibility of cal culation, possible, in which consciousness regards these things with tedium,-in which the joy of the accidental, of the uncertain, and of the unexpected, actually becomes spur.
Let us halt moment before this symptom of highest culture,--I call the pessimism of strength. Man now no longer requires "justification of evil justification precisely what he abhors: he enjoys evil, far, one he regards purposeless evil as the most interesting kind of evil. If he had required God in the past, he now delights in cosmic disorder without God, world of accident, to the essence of which terror, ambiguity, and seductiveness belong.
In state of this sort, precisely goodness which requires to be justified--that to say, must either have an evil and dangerous basis, or else must contain a vast amount of stupidity: in which case still pleases. Animality no longer awakens terror now; avery intellectual and happy wanton spirit in favour of the animal in man, in such periods, the most triumphant form Of spirit uality. Man now strong enough to be able to feel ashamed of a belief in God: he may now play the part of the devil's advocate afresh. If in practice he pretends to uphold virtue, will be for those reasons which lead virtue to be associated with subtlety, cunning, lust of gain, and form of the lust of power. ,
This pessimism of strength also ends in theo dicy, i. e. in an absolute saying Of yea to. the world ---but the same arguments will be raised in favour Of
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is
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? 400
THE WILL TO POWER.
life which forinerly were raised against it: and in this way, in a conception of this world as the highest ideal possible, which has been effectively attained.
I
I020.
The principal kinds of pessimism :--
The pessimism of sensitiveness (excessive irrit
ability with a preponderance of the feelings of pain). The pessimism of the will that is not free (other wise expressed: the lack of resisting power a
gainst stimuli).
The pessimism of doubt (shyness in regard to
everything fixed, in regard to all grasping and touching).
The psychological conditions which belong to these different kinds of pessimism, may all be ob served in a lunatic asylum, even though they are there found in a slightly exaggerated form. The same applies to" Nihilism " (the penetrating feeling of " nonentity '
What, however, the nature of Pascal's moral pessimism, and the metaphysical pessimism of the Vedanta-Philosophy? What the nature of the social pessimism of anarchists (as of Shelley), and of the pessimism of compassion (like that of Leo, Tolstoy and of Alfred de Vigny)?
. Are all these things not also the phenomena of decay and sickness? And not excessive seriousness in regard to moral values, or in regard to "other-world" fictions, or social calamities, or sufiering in general, of the same order? All such exaggeration of single and narrow standpoint
? ? ? a
"). is
is
. . .
is
is
? (2)
VOL.
