Conscription; so that as a rule every man of the higher classes should be an officer,
whatever
else he may be besides.
Nietzsche - Works - v15 - Will to Power - b
The
demand for equal rights (that is to say, the privi lege of sitting in judgment on everything and everybody) is anti~aristocratic.
This age knows just as little concerning the absorption of the individual, of his mergence into a great type of men who do not want to be personalities. It was this that formerly constituted the distinction and the zeal of many lofty natures
(the greatest poets among them); or of the desire
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
227
to be a polis, as in Greece; or of Jesuitism, or of the Prussian Staff Corps, and bureaucracy; or of apprenticeship and a continuation of the tradition of great masters: to all of which things, non-social conditions and the absence of petty vanity are necessary.
784.
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
_
He does not set himself up in opposi tion as a personality, but merely as a unit; he
Church).
? the rights of all other individuals as against the whole. That is to say, he instinc tively 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.
Socialism is merely an agitatory measure of individualism : it recognises the fact that in order to attain to something, men must organise them selves into a general movement-- into a "power. " But what the Socialist requires is not society as the object of the individual, but society as a means
of making many individuals possible: this is the instinct of Socialists, though they frequently de ceive themselves on this point (apart from this, however, in order to make their kind prevail, they are compelled to deceive others to an enormous
represents
Altruistic moral preaching thus enters into the service of individual egoism,--one 0f
extent).
? ? ? 228 THE WILL TO POWER.
the most common frauds of the nineteenth century.
Anarchy is also merely an agitatory measure of Socialism; with it the Socialist inspires fear, with fear he begins to fascinate and'to terrorise: but What he does above all is to draw all courageous
and reckless people to his side, even in the most intellectual spheres.
In spite of all this, individualism is the most modest stage of the will to power.
*
When one has reached a certain degree of inde
pendence, one always longs for more: separation in proportion to the degree of force ; the individual is no longer content to regard himself as equal
to everybody, he actually see/es for his peer--he makes himself stand out from others. Individual
ism is followed by a development in groups and organs ; correlative tendencies join up together and become powerfully active: now there arise between these centres of power, friction, war, a reconnoitring of the forces on either side, reciprocity, under standings, and the regulation of mutual services. Finally, there appears an order of rank. .
Recapitulation--
I. The individuals emancipate themselves.
2. They make war, and ultimately agree con
cerning equal rights(justice is made an end in itself). 3. Once this is reached, the actual differences in degrees of power begin to make themselves felt,
and to a greater extent than before (the reason being that on the Whole peace is established, and innumerable small centres of power begin to create
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
differences which formerly were scarcely notice
Now the individuals begin to form groups, these strive after privileges and preponderance, and war starts afresh in a milder form.
People demand freedom only when they have no power. Once power is obtained, a preponder ance thereof is the next thing to be coveted; if this is not achieved (owing to the fact that one is still too weak' for it), then "justice," i. e. "equality of power " become the objects of desire.
785.
The rectification of the concept " egoism. "--When one has discovered what an error the "individual"
and that every single creature represents the whole process of evolution (not alone " inherited," but in " himself"), the individual then acquires an inordinately great importance. The voice of in stinct quite right here. When this instinct tends to decline, i. e. when the individual begins
to seek his worth in his services to Others, one may be sure that exhaustion and degeneration have set in. An altruistic attitude of mind, when funda mental and free from all hypocrisy, the instinct of creating second value for one's self in the ser vice ofiother cgoists. As rule, however,
only apparent--a circuitous path to the preserva tion of one's own feelings Of vitality and worth.
786.
The History of Moralisation and Demoralisation.
Proposition one. ----There are no such things as
able).
229
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it is
a
is
it is
is, is
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THE WILL TO POWER.
moral actions: they are purely imaginary. Not only is it impossible to demonstrate their exist ence (a fact which Kant and Christianity, for instance, both acknowledged)--but they are not
even possible. Owing to psychological misunder standing, a man invented an opposite to the instinc tive 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. Ac cording 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.
Proposition two. ----The whole differentiation, "moral" and "immoral," arises from the assump tion 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 judg ments 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.
96
The psychological error out of which the anti thesis " moral " and "immoral" arose is: " selfless," "unselfish," "self-denying"--all unreal and fan tastic.
A false dogmatism also clustered around the concept "ego"; it was regarded as atomic, and falsely opposed to a non-ego ; it was also liberated
? ? ? ? (5)
SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
23I
from Becoming, and declared to belong to the sphere of Being. The false materialisation of the ego: this (owing to the belief in individual im mortality) was made an article of faith under the pressure of religio-moral discipline. According to this artificial liberation of the ego and its trans ference to the realm of the absolute, people thought that they had arrived at an antithesis in values which seemed quite irrefutable--the
single ego and the vast non-ego. seemed obvious that the value of the individual ego could only exist in conjunction with the vast non-ego, more particularly in the sense of being subject to
and existing only for its sake. Here, of course, the gregarious instinct determined the direction of thought: nothing is_ more opposed to this instinct than the sovereignty of the individual. Supposing, however, that the ego be absolute, then its value must lie in self-negation.
Thus:" (I) the false emancipation of the "in dividual as an atom;
(2) The gregarious self-conceit which abhors the desire to remain an atom, and regards as hostile. As result: the overcoming of the individual
by changing his aim.
(4) At this point there appeared to be actions
that were self-effacing: around these actions whole sphere of antitheses was fancied.
? was asked, in what sort of actions does man most strongly assert himself? Around these
was believed that there could be such
covetousness, lust for power, cruelty, etc. etc. ) hate, contempt, and anathemas were
(sexuality, heaped:
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? 232
THE WILL TO POWER.
things as selfless impulses. Everything selfish was condemned, everything unselfish was in demand.
(6) And the result was: what had been done? A ban had been placedon the strongest, the most natural, yea, the only genuine impulses; hencefor ward, in order that an action might be praiseworthy,
there must be no trace in it of any of those genuine impulses--monstrous fraud in psychology. Every kind of "self-satisfaction" had to be remodelled and made possible by means of misunderstanding and adjusting one's self sub specie bani. Conversely: that species which found its advantage in depriving mankind of its self-satisfaction, the representatives of the gregarious instincts, eg. the priests and the philosophers, were sufficiently crafty and psycho logically astute to show how selfishness ruled every where. The Christian conclusion from this was: " Everything is sin, even our virtues. Man is utterly undesirable. Selfless actions are impos sible. " Original sin. In short, once man had
opposed his instincts to a purely imaginary world of the good, he concluded by despising himself as incapable of performing " good " actions.
N. B. ---In this way Christianity represents a' step forward in the sharpening of psychological insight : La Rochefoucauld and Pascal. It perceived the essential equality of human actions,and the equality of their values as a whole (all immoral).
>1:
Now the first serious object was to rear men in whom self-seeking impulses were extinguished:
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
priests, saints. And people doubted that perfec tion was possible, they did not doubt What per fection was.
The psychology of the saint and of the priest and of the "good" man, must naturally have seemed purely phantasmagorical. The real motive of all action had been declared bad: therefore, in order to make action still possible, deeds had to be
which, though not possible, had to be declared possible and sanctified. They now honoured and idealised things with as much falsity as they had previously slandered them.
Inveighing against the instincts Of life came to be regarded as holy and estimable. The priestly ideal was: absolute chastity, absolute Obedience, absolute poverty! The lay ideal: alms, pity, self sacrifice, renunciation of the beautiful, of reason, and of sensuality, and dark frown for all the strong qualities that existed.
An advance made: the slandered instincts attempt to re-establish their rights (e. g. Luther's Reformation, the coarsest form of moral falsehood under, the cover of "Evangelical freedom they are rechristened With holy names.
The calumniated instincts try to demonstrate that they are necessary in order that the virtuous instincts may be possible. Il faut vivre, afin de vivre pour autrui: egoism as means to an end. '
* Spencer's conclusion the Data of Ethz'cs. ---TR.
prescribed
233
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? THE WILL r0 POWER.
But people go still further: they try to grant both the egoistic and altruistic impulses the right to exist--equal rights for both--from the utili tarian standpoint.
People go further: they see greater utility in placing the egoistic rights before the altruistic-- greater utility in the sense of more happiness for the majority, or of the elevation of mankind, etc. etc. Thus the rights of egoism begin to preponderate,
but under the cloak of an extremely altruistic standpoint--the collective utility of humanity.
An attempt is made to reconcile the altruistic mode of action with the natural order of things. Altruism is sought in the very roots of life. Altruism and egoism are both based upon the
essence of life and nature.
The disappearance of the opposition between them is dreamt of as a future possibility. Con
tinued adaptation, it is hoped, will merge the two into one.
At last it is seen that altruistic actions are merely a species of the egoistic--and that the degree to which one loves and spends one's self is a
proof of the extent of one's individual power and personality. In short, that the more evil man can be made, the better he and that one cannot be the one without the other. . . At this point the
curtain rises which concealed the monstrous fraud of the psychology that has prevailed hitherto.
Results--There are only immoral intentions and actions the so-called moral actions must be shown
234
? ? ? ;
*
is, .
? socns'rv AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
235
'to be immoral. All emotions are traced to a single will, the will to power, and are called essentially equal. The concept of life: in the apparent antithesis good and evil, degrees of power in the instincts alone are expressed. A temporary order of rank is established according to which certain instincts are either controlled or enlisted 'in our service. Morality is justified: economically, etc.
*
Against proposition two--Determinism: the attempt to rescue the moral world by transferring it to the unknown.
Determinism is only a manner of allowing our selves to conjure our valuations away, once they have lost their place in a world interpreted mechanistically. Determinism must therefore be attacked and undermined at all costs: just as our right to distinguish between an absolute and phenomenal world should be disputed.
787
It is absolutely necessary to emancipate our selves from motives: otherwise we should not be allowed to attempt to sacrifice ourselves or to neglect ourselves! Only the innocence of Be coming gives us the highest courage and the highest freedom.
788.
A clean conscience must be restored to the evil mam--has this been my involuntary endeavour all
? ? ? ? 236
THE WILL To POWER.
the time? for I take as the evil man him who is strong (Dostoievsky's belief concerning the con victs in prison should be referred to here).
789.
Our new "freedom. " What a feeling of relief there is in the thought that we emancipated spirits do not feel ourselves harnessed to any system of teleological aims. Likewise that the concepts reward and punishment have no roots in the essence of existence! Likewise that good and evil actions are not good or evil in themselves, but only from the point of view of the self-pre servative tendencies of certain species of humanity !
Likewise that our speculations concerning pleasure and pain are not of cosmic, far less then of meta physical, importance! (That form of pessimism associated with the name of Hartmann, which pledges itself to put even the pain and pleasure of existence into the balance, with its arbitrary con finement in the prison and within the bounds of pre-Copernican thought, would be something not only retrogressive, but degenerate, unless it be merely a bad joke on the part of a " Berliner. " ')
790.
If one is clear as to the "wherefore" of one's life, then the "how " of it can take care of itself.
* " Berliner "---The citizens of Berlin are renowned in Germany for their poor jokes--TR.
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL
237
It already even sign of disbelief in the where fore and in the purpose and sense of life--in fact,
sign of lack of will--when the value of
and pain step into the foreground, and hedonistic and pessimistic teaching becomes pre valent; and self-abnegation, resignation, virtue, "objectivity," may, at the very least, be signs that the most important factor beginning to make its absence felt.
791
Hitherto there has been no German culture. It no refutation of this assertion to say that there have been great anchorites in Germany (Goethe,
for instance); for these had their own culture. But was precisely around them, as though around mighty, defiant, and isolated rocks, that the remain ing spirit of Germany, as their antithesis, lay--that
pleasure
? .
to say, as soft, swampy, slippery soil, upon which every step and every footprint of the rest ofEurope made an impression and created forms.
German culture was thing devoid of character and of almost unlimited yielding power.
792
Germany, though very rich in clever and well informed scholars, has for some time been so ex cessively poor in great souls and in mighty minds, that almost seems to have forgotten what great soul or mighty mind and to-day mediocre and
even ill-constituted men place themselves in the market square without the suggestion of con science-prick or signofembarrassment,and declare
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THE WILL TO POWER.
themselves great men, reformers, etc. Take the case of Eugen D'uhring, for instance, a really clever and well-informed scholar, but a man who betrays with almost every word he says that he has a miser ably small soul, and that he is horribly tormented by narrow envious feelings; moreover, that it is no mighty overflowing, benevolent, and spendthrift spirit that drives him on, but only the spirit of ambition! But to be ambitious in such an age as
this is much more unworthy of a philosopher than ever it was: to-day, when it is the mob that rules, when it is the mob that dispenses the honours.
793
My " future": a severe polytechnic education.
Conscription; so that as a rule every man of the higher classes should be an officer, whatever else he may be besides.
? ? ? ? IV.
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
794
OUR religion, morality, and philosophy are
decadent human institutions. The counter-agent: Art.
795
The Artist-philosopher. A higher concept Of art. Can man stand at so great a distance from his fellows as to mould them? (Preliminary ex
? ercises thereto :--
I. To become a self-former, an anchorite.
.
2. TO do what artists have done hitherto, i. e. to reach a small degree Of perfection in a certain
medium. )
796.
'Art as it appears without the artist, i. e. as a body, an organisation (the Prussian Officers' Corps, the Order of the jesuits). To what extent is the artist merely a preliminary stage? The world
regarded as a self-generating work of art.
'
239
? ? ? / 240
THE "'ILL TO POWER.
797
The phenomenon, "artist," is the easiest to see through: from it one can look down upon the fundamental instincts of power, of nature, etc. ; even of religion and morality.
" Play," uselessness--as the ideal of him who is overflowing with power, as the ideal of the child.
'
Apollonian, Dionysian. There are two con ditions 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. Both conditions are to be seen in normal life, but they are then somewhat weaker: in dreams and in moments of elation or intoxication. "
But the same contrast exists between the dream state and the state of intoxication: both of these states let loose all manner of artistic powers with in us, but each unfetters powers of a different kind. Dreamland gives us the power of vision, of association, of poetry: intoxication gives us the power of grand attitudes, of passion, of song, and
of dance.
* German : " Rausch. "--There is no word in English for the German expression " Rausch. " When Nietzsche uses
he means sort of blend of our two werds intoxication and elation--TR.
The childishness of God, waic
798
rralfwv.
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:
it,
? _
The feeling of intoxication as matter of fact, equivalent to sensation of surplus power:
strongest in seasons of rut: new organs, new accomplishments, new colours, new forms. Em bellishment an outcome of _increased power. Embellishment merely an expression of
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
241
99
Sexuality and voluptuousness belong to the Dionysiac intoxication: but neither of them lacking in the Apollonian state. There also
difference of tempo between the states. . . The extreme peace of certain feelings of intoxication (or, more strictly, the slackening of the feeling of time, and the reduction of the feeling of space) wont to reflect itself in the vision of the most restful attitudes and states of the soul. The classical style essentially represents repose, simplification, foreshortening, and concentration--the highest feel ing of power concentrated in the classical type. To react with difficulty: great consciousness: no feeling of strife.
800.
? will, of an increased state of co ordination, of harmony of all the strong desires, of an infallible and perpendicular equilibrium.
Logical and geometrical simplification the result of an increase of power: conversely, the mere aspect of such simplification increases the sense of power in the beholder. . The zenith of development: the grand style.
Ugliness signifies the decadence of a type: con VOL. 11. .
triumphant
? ? Q
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THE WILL TO POWER.
tradiction and faulty co-ordination among the in most desires--this means a decline in the organis ing power, or, psychologically speaking,in the "will. "
The condition of pleasure which is called in toxication is really an exalted feeling of power. . . . Sensations of space and time are altered; incrdinate distances are traversed by the eye, and only then become visible; the extension of the vision over greater masses and expanses;-the refinement of the organ which apprehends the smallest and most elusive things; divination, the power of understanding at the slightest hint, at the smallest suggestion; intelligent sensitiveness; strength as a feeling of dominion in the muscles, as agility and love of movement, as dance, as levity and quick time; strength as the love of proving strength, as bravado, adventurousness, fearlessness, indifference in regard to life and death. . . . All these elated moments of life
stimulate each other; the world of images and of imagination of the one suffices as a suggestion for the other: in this way states finally merge into each other, which might do better to keep apart, e. g. the feeling of religious intoxication and sexual irritability (two very profound feelings, always wonderfully co-ordinated. What is it that pleases almost all pious women, old or young? Answer :, a saint with beautiful legs, still young, still in?
nocent). Cruelty in tragedy and pity (likewise " normally correlated). Spring-time, dancing, music, ---all these things are but the display of one sex before the other,--as also that " infinite yearning
of the heart" peculiar to Faust.
? ? ? ? THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
243
? ' ' __
Artists when they are worth anything at all are men of strong propensities (even physically), with surplus energy, powerful animals, sensual without
certain overheating of the sexual system a man like Raphael unthinkable. . . To produce music also in sense to produce children;
chastity merely the economy of the artist, and in all creative artists productiveness certainly ceases. with sexual potency. . Artists should not see things as they are; they should see them fuller, simpler, stronger: to this end, however, kind of youthfulness, of vernality, sort of per petual elation, must be peculiar to their lives.
80x.
The states in which we transfigure things and make them fuller, and rhapsodise about them, until they reflect our own fulness and love of life back upon us: sexuality, intoxication, post-prandial states, spring, triumph over our enemies, scorn, bravado, cruelty, the ecstasy of religious feeling. But three elements above all are active: sexuality, intoxication, cruelty; all these belong to the oldest
festaljoys of mankind, they also preponderate in budding artists.
Conversely: there are things with which we meet which already show us this transfiguration
and fulness, and the animal world's
thereto state of excitement in the spheres Where these states Of happiness originate. A blending of these very delicate shades of animal well-being and desires the aesthetic state. The
response
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THE WILL TO POWER.
latter only manifests itself in those natures which are capable of that spendthrift and overflowing fulness of bodily vigour; the latter is always the primum mobile. The sober-minded man, the tired man, the exhausted and dried-up man (e. g. the scholar), can have no feeling for art, because he does not possess the primitive force of art, which is the tyranny of inner riches: he who
cannot give anything away cannot feel anything either.
"Perfection. "--In these states (more particularly in the case of sexual love) there is an ingenuous betrayal of what the profoundest instinct regards as the highest, the most desirable, the most valuable, the ascending movement of its type; also of the condition towards which it is actually striving. Perfection: the extraordinary expansion
Of this instinct's feeling of power, its riches, its necessary overflowing of all banks.
802.
Art reminds us Of states of physical vigour: it may be the overflow and bursting forth of bloom ing life in the world of pictures and desires; on the other hand, it may be an excitation of the physical functions by means of pictures and desires
of exalted life--an enhancement of the feeling of life, the latter's stimulant.
To what extent can ugliness exercise this
? In so far as it may communicate some thing of the triumphant energy of the artist who has become master of the ugly and the repulsive;
power?
? ? ? (in
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
245
or in so far as gently excites our lust of cruelty
some circumstances even the lust of doing harm to ourselves, self-violence, and therewith the feeling of power over ourselves).
803.
"Beauty" therefore to the artist, something which above all order of rank, because in beauty contrasts are overcome, the highest sign of power thus manifesting itself in the conquest of opposites; and achieved without feeling of tension: violence being no longer necessary, everything submitting and obeying so easily, and doing so with good grace; this what delights the powerful will of the artist.
804.
The biological value of beauty and ugliness. That which we feel instinctively opposed to us aesthetically according to the longest experience of mankind, felt to be harmful, dangerous, and worthy of suspicion: the sudden utterance of the
instinct, eg. in the case of loathing, im plies an act of judgment. To this extent beauty lies within the general category of the biological values, useful, beneficent, and life-promoting: thus, host of stimuli which for ages have been associated with, and remind us of, useful things and conditions, give us the feeling of beauty, i. e. the increase of the feeling of power (not only things, therefore, but the sensations which are associated with such things or their symbols).
'
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THE WILL TO POWER.
In this way beauty and ugliness are recognised as determined by our most fundamental self preservative values. Apart from this, it is nonsense to postulate anything as beautiful or ugly. Ab solute beauty exists just as little as absolute good~ ness and truth. In a particular case it is a matter of the self-preservative conditions of a certain type of man: thus the gregarious man will have quite a different feeling for beauty from the exceptional or super-man.
It is the optics of things in the foreground which only consider immediate consequences, from which the value beauty (also goodness and truth) arises.
All instinctive judgments are short-sighted in regard to the concatenation of consequences: they merely advise what must be done forthwith. Reason is essentially an obstructing apparatus preventing the immediate response to instinctive
judgments: it halts, it calculates, it traces the chain of consequences further.
Judgments concerning beauty and ugliness are short-sighted (reason is always opposed to them): but they are convincing in the highest degree; they appeal to our instincts in that quarter where the latter decide most quickly and say yes or no with least hesitation, even before reason can
interpose.
The most common affirmations of beauty
stimulate each other reciprocally; where the aesthetic impulse once begins to work, a whole host of other and foreign perfections crystallise around the "particular form of beauty. " It is
? ? ? ? impossible impossible
sighted;
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
247
to remain objective, certainly to dispense with the interpreting, bestowing, transfiguring, and poetising power (the
latter stringing together of aflirmations con cerning beauty itself). The sight of beautiful woman. .
Thus (I) judgment concerning beauty short
sees only the immediate consequences. It smothers the object which gives rise to
(2)
with charm that determined by the associa
tion of various judgments concerning beauty,
which, however, are quite alien to the essence
the particular object. To regard thing as beauti ful necessarily to regard falsely (that why incidentally love marriages are from the social point of view the most unreasonable form of matrimony).
805.
Concerning the genesis of Art--That making perfect and seeing perfect, which peculiar to the cerebral system overladen with sexual energy lover alone with his sweetheart at eventide trans figures the smallest details: life chain of sublime things, " the misfortune of an unhappy love affair more valuable than anything else "); on the other hand, everything perfect and beautiful operates like an unconscious recollection of that amorous condition and of the point of view peculiar to it--all perfection, and the whole of the beauty of things, through contiguity, revives aphrodisiac bliss. (Physiologically the creative instinct of the artist and the distribution
of
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? 248
THE WILL T0 POWER.
of his semen in his blood. ) The desire for art and beauty is an indirect longing for the ecstasy of sexual desire, which gets communicated to the brain. The world become perfect through "love. "
806.
Sensuality in its various disguises. --(I) As idealism (Plato), common to youth, constructing a kind of concave-mirror in which the imageof the beloved is an incrustation, an exaggeration, a transfiguration, an attribution of infinity to every thing. (2) In the religion of love, "a fine young man," "a beautiful woman," in some way divine; a bridegroom, a bride of the soul. (3) In art, as a decorating force, e. g. just as the man sees the woman and makes her a present of everything
that can enhance her personal charm, so the sensuality of the artist adorns an Object with everything else that he honours and esteems, and by this means perfects it (or idealises it). Woman, knowing what man feels in regard to her, tries to meetghis idealising endeavours half way by decorating herself, by walking and dancing well, by expressing delicate thoughts: in addition,
she may practise modesty, shyness, reserve--- prompted by her instinctive feeling that the ideal
ising power of man increases with all this.
the extraordinary finesse of woman's instincts, modesty must not by any means be considered as conscious hypocrisy: she guesses that it is pre cisely artlessness and real shame which seduces man most and urges him to an exaggerated
? (In
? ? ? THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
249
? f I
esteem of her. On this account, woman is in genuous, owing to the subtlety of her instincts which reveal to her the utility of a state of innocence. A wilful closing of one's eyes
to one's self. .
demand for equal rights (that is to say, the privi lege of sitting in judgment on everything and everybody) is anti~aristocratic.
This age knows just as little concerning the absorption of the individual, of his mergence into a great type of men who do not want to be personalities. It was this that formerly constituted the distinction and the zeal of many lofty natures
(the greatest poets among them); or of the desire
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
227
to be a polis, as in Greece; or of Jesuitism, or of the Prussian Staff Corps, and bureaucracy; or of apprenticeship and a continuation of the tradition of great masters: to all of which things, non-social conditions and the absence of petty vanity are necessary.
784.
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
_
He does not set himself up in opposi tion as a personality, but merely as a unit; he
Church).
? the rights of all other individuals as against the whole. That is to say, he instinc tively 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.
Socialism is merely an agitatory measure of individualism : it recognises the fact that in order to attain to something, men must organise them selves into a general movement-- into a "power. " But what the Socialist requires is not society as the object of the individual, but society as a means
of making many individuals possible: this is the instinct of Socialists, though they frequently de ceive themselves on this point (apart from this, however, in order to make their kind prevail, they are compelled to deceive others to an enormous
represents
Altruistic moral preaching thus enters into the service of individual egoism,--one 0f
extent).
? ? ? 228 THE WILL TO POWER.
the most common frauds of the nineteenth century.
Anarchy is also merely an agitatory measure of Socialism; with it the Socialist inspires fear, with fear he begins to fascinate and'to terrorise: but What he does above all is to draw all courageous
and reckless people to his side, even in the most intellectual spheres.
In spite of all this, individualism is the most modest stage of the will to power.
*
When one has reached a certain degree of inde
pendence, one always longs for more: separation in proportion to the degree of force ; the individual is no longer content to regard himself as equal
to everybody, he actually see/es for his peer--he makes himself stand out from others. Individual
ism is followed by a development in groups and organs ; correlative tendencies join up together and become powerfully active: now there arise between these centres of power, friction, war, a reconnoitring of the forces on either side, reciprocity, under standings, and the regulation of mutual services. Finally, there appears an order of rank. .
Recapitulation--
I. The individuals emancipate themselves.
2. They make war, and ultimately agree con
cerning equal rights(justice is made an end in itself). 3. Once this is reached, the actual differences in degrees of power begin to make themselves felt,
and to a greater extent than before (the reason being that on the Whole peace is established, and innumerable small centres of power begin to create
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
differences which formerly were scarcely notice
Now the individuals begin to form groups, these strive after privileges and preponderance, and war starts afresh in a milder form.
People demand freedom only when they have no power. Once power is obtained, a preponder ance thereof is the next thing to be coveted; if this is not achieved (owing to the fact that one is still too weak' for it), then "justice," i. e. "equality of power " become the objects of desire.
785.
The rectification of the concept " egoism. "--When one has discovered what an error the "individual"
and that every single creature represents the whole process of evolution (not alone " inherited," but in " himself"), the individual then acquires an inordinately great importance. The voice of in stinct quite right here. When this instinct tends to decline, i. e. when the individual begins
to seek his worth in his services to Others, one may be sure that exhaustion and degeneration have set in. An altruistic attitude of mind, when funda mental and free from all hypocrisy, the instinct of creating second value for one's self in the ser vice ofiother cgoists. As rule, however,
only apparent--a circuitous path to the preserva tion of one's own feelings Of vitality and worth.
786.
The History of Moralisation and Demoralisation.
Proposition one. ----There are no such things as
able).
229
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? 230
THE WILL TO POWER.
moral actions: they are purely imaginary. Not only is it impossible to demonstrate their exist ence (a fact which Kant and Christianity, for instance, both acknowledged)--but they are not
even possible. Owing to psychological misunder standing, a man invented an opposite to the instinc tive 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. Ac cording 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.
Proposition two. ----The whole differentiation, "moral" and "immoral," arises from the assump tion 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 judg ments 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.
96
The psychological error out of which the anti thesis " moral " and "immoral" arose is: " selfless," "unselfish," "self-denying"--all unreal and fan tastic.
A false dogmatism also clustered around the concept "ego"; it was regarded as atomic, and falsely opposed to a non-ego ; it was also liberated
? ? ? ? (5)
SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
23I
from Becoming, and declared to belong to the sphere of Being. The false materialisation of the ego: this (owing to the belief in individual im mortality) was made an article of faith under the pressure of religio-moral discipline. According to this artificial liberation of the ego and its trans ference to the realm of the absolute, people thought that they had arrived at an antithesis in values which seemed quite irrefutable--the
single ego and the vast non-ego. seemed obvious that the value of the individual ego could only exist in conjunction with the vast non-ego, more particularly in the sense of being subject to
and existing only for its sake. Here, of course, the gregarious instinct determined the direction of thought: nothing is_ more opposed to this instinct than the sovereignty of the individual. Supposing, however, that the ego be absolute, then its value must lie in self-negation.
Thus:" (I) the false emancipation of the "in dividual as an atom;
(2) The gregarious self-conceit which abhors the desire to remain an atom, and regards as hostile. As result: the overcoming of the individual
by changing his aim.
(4) At this point there appeared to be actions
that were self-effacing: around these actions whole sphere of antitheses was fancied.
? was asked, in what sort of actions does man most strongly assert himself? Around these
was believed that there could be such
covetousness, lust for power, cruelty, etc. etc. ) hate, contempt, and anathemas were
(sexuality, heaped:
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THE WILL TO POWER.
things as selfless impulses. Everything selfish was condemned, everything unselfish was in demand.
(6) And the result was: what had been done? A ban had been placedon the strongest, the most natural, yea, the only genuine impulses; hencefor ward, in order that an action might be praiseworthy,
there must be no trace in it of any of those genuine impulses--monstrous fraud in psychology. Every kind of "self-satisfaction" had to be remodelled and made possible by means of misunderstanding and adjusting one's self sub specie bani. Conversely: that species which found its advantage in depriving mankind of its self-satisfaction, the representatives of the gregarious instincts, eg. the priests and the philosophers, were sufficiently crafty and psycho logically astute to show how selfishness ruled every where. The Christian conclusion from this was: " Everything is sin, even our virtues. Man is utterly undesirable. Selfless actions are impos sible. " Original sin. In short, once man had
opposed his instincts to a purely imaginary world of the good, he concluded by despising himself as incapable of performing " good " actions.
N. B. ---In this way Christianity represents a' step forward in the sharpening of psychological insight : La Rochefoucauld and Pascal. It perceived the essential equality of human actions,and the equality of their values as a whole (all immoral).
>1:
Now the first serious object was to rear men in whom self-seeking impulses were extinguished:
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
priests, saints. And people doubted that perfec tion was possible, they did not doubt What per fection was.
The psychology of the saint and of the priest and of the "good" man, must naturally have seemed purely phantasmagorical. The real motive of all action had been declared bad: therefore, in order to make action still possible, deeds had to be
which, though not possible, had to be declared possible and sanctified. They now honoured and idealised things with as much falsity as they had previously slandered them.
Inveighing against the instincts Of life came to be regarded as holy and estimable. The priestly ideal was: absolute chastity, absolute Obedience, absolute poverty! The lay ideal: alms, pity, self sacrifice, renunciation of the beautiful, of reason, and of sensuality, and dark frown for all the strong qualities that existed.
An advance made: the slandered instincts attempt to re-establish their rights (e. g. Luther's Reformation, the coarsest form of moral falsehood under, the cover of "Evangelical freedom they are rechristened With holy names.
The calumniated instincts try to demonstrate that they are necessary in order that the virtuous instincts may be possible. Il faut vivre, afin de vivre pour autrui: egoism as means to an end. '
* Spencer's conclusion the Data of Ethz'cs. ---TR.
prescribed
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? THE WILL r0 POWER.
But people go still further: they try to grant both the egoistic and altruistic impulses the right to exist--equal rights for both--from the utili tarian standpoint.
People go further: they see greater utility in placing the egoistic rights before the altruistic-- greater utility in the sense of more happiness for the majority, or of the elevation of mankind, etc. etc. Thus the rights of egoism begin to preponderate,
but under the cloak of an extremely altruistic standpoint--the collective utility of humanity.
An attempt is made to reconcile the altruistic mode of action with the natural order of things. Altruism is sought in the very roots of life. Altruism and egoism are both based upon the
essence of life and nature.
The disappearance of the opposition between them is dreamt of as a future possibility. Con
tinued adaptation, it is hoped, will merge the two into one.
At last it is seen that altruistic actions are merely a species of the egoistic--and that the degree to which one loves and spends one's self is a
proof of the extent of one's individual power and personality. In short, that the more evil man can be made, the better he and that one cannot be the one without the other. . . At this point the
curtain rises which concealed the monstrous fraud of the psychology that has prevailed hitherto.
Results--There are only immoral intentions and actions the so-called moral actions must be shown
234
? ? ? ;
*
is, .
? socns'rv AND THE INDIVIDUAL.
235
'to be immoral. All emotions are traced to a single will, the will to power, and are called essentially equal. The concept of life: in the apparent antithesis good and evil, degrees of power in the instincts alone are expressed. A temporary order of rank is established according to which certain instincts are either controlled or enlisted 'in our service. Morality is justified: economically, etc.
*
Against proposition two--Determinism: the attempt to rescue the moral world by transferring it to the unknown.
Determinism is only a manner of allowing our selves to conjure our valuations away, once they have lost their place in a world interpreted mechanistically. Determinism must therefore be attacked and undermined at all costs: just as our right to distinguish between an absolute and phenomenal world should be disputed.
787
It is absolutely necessary to emancipate our selves from motives: otherwise we should not be allowed to attempt to sacrifice ourselves or to neglect ourselves! Only the innocence of Be coming gives us the highest courage and the highest freedom.
788.
A clean conscience must be restored to the evil mam--has this been my involuntary endeavour all
? ? ? ? 236
THE WILL To POWER.
the time? for I take as the evil man him who is strong (Dostoievsky's belief concerning the con victs in prison should be referred to here).
789.
Our new "freedom. " What a feeling of relief there is in the thought that we emancipated spirits do not feel ourselves harnessed to any system of teleological aims. Likewise that the concepts reward and punishment have no roots in the essence of existence! Likewise that good and evil actions are not good or evil in themselves, but only from the point of view of the self-pre servative tendencies of certain species of humanity !
Likewise that our speculations concerning pleasure and pain are not of cosmic, far less then of meta physical, importance! (That form of pessimism associated with the name of Hartmann, which pledges itself to put even the pain and pleasure of existence into the balance, with its arbitrary con finement in the prison and within the bounds of pre-Copernican thought, would be something not only retrogressive, but degenerate, unless it be merely a bad joke on the part of a " Berliner. " ')
790.
If one is clear as to the "wherefore" of one's life, then the "how " of it can take care of itself.
* " Berliner "---The citizens of Berlin are renowned in Germany for their poor jokes--TR.
? ? ? ? SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL
237
It already even sign of disbelief in the where fore and in the purpose and sense of life--in fact,
sign of lack of will--when the value of
and pain step into the foreground, and hedonistic and pessimistic teaching becomes pre valent; and self-abnegation, resignation, virtue, "objectivity," may, at the very least, be signs that the most important factor beginning to make its absence felt.
791
Hitherto there has been no German culture. It no refutation of this assertion to say that there have been great anchorites in Germany (Goethe,
for instance); for these had their own culture. But was precisely around them, as though around mighty, defiant, and isolated rocks, that the remain ing spirit of Germany, as their antithesis, lay--that
pleasure
? .
to say, as soft, swampy, slippery soil, upon which every step and every footprint of the rest ofEurope made an impression and created forms.
German culture was thing devoid of character and of almost unlimited yielding power.
792
Germany, though very rich in clever and well informed scholars, has for some time been so ex cessively poor in great souls and in mighty minds, that almost seems to have forgotten what great soul or mighty mind and to-day mediocre and
even ill-constituted men place themselves in the market square without the suggestion of con science-prick or signofembarrassment,and declare
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THE WILL TO POWER.
themselves great men, reformers, etc. Take the case of Eugen D'uhring, for instance, a really clever and well-informed scholar, but a man who betrays with almost every word he says that he has a miser ably small soul, and that he is horribly tormented by narrow envious feelings; moreover, that it is no mighty overflowing, benevolent, and spendthrift spirit that drives him on, but only the spirit of ambition! But to be ambitious in such an age as
this is much more unworthy of a philosopher than ever it was: to-day, when it is the mob that rules, when it is the mob that dispenses the honours.
793
My " future": a severe polytechnic education.
Conscription; so that as a rule every man of the higher classes should be an officer, whatever else he may be besides.
? ? ? ? IV.
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
794
OUR religion, morality, and philosophy are
decadent human institutions. The counter-agent: Art.
795
The Artist-philosopher. A higher concept Of art. Can man stand at so great a distance from his fellows as to mould them? (Preliminary ex
? ercises thereto :--
I. To become a self-former, an anchorite.
.
2. TO do what artists have done hitherto, i. e. to reach a small degree Of perfection in a certain
medium. )
796.
'Art as it appears without the artist, i. e. as a body, an organisation (the Prussian Officers' Corps, the Order of the jesuits). To what extent is the artist merely a preliminary stage? The world
regarded as a self-generating work of art.
'
239
? ? ? / 240
THE "'ILL TO POWER.
797
The phenomenon, "artist," is the easiest to see through: from it one can look down upon the fundamental instincts of power, of nature, etc. ; even of religion and morality.
" Play," uselessness--as the ideal of him who is overflowing with power, as the ideal of the child.
'
Apollonian, Dionysian. There are two con ditions 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. Both conditions are to be seen in normal life, but they are then somewhat weaker: in dreams and in moments of elation or intoxication. "
But the same contrast exists between the dream state and the state of intoxication: both of these states let loose all manner of artistic powers with in us, but each unfetters powers of a different kind. Dreamland gives us the power of vision, of association, of poetry: intoxication gives us the power of grand attitudes, of passion, of song, and
of dance.
* German : " Rausch. "--There is no word in English for the German expression " Rausch. " When Nietzsche uses
he means sort of blend of our two werds intoxication and elation--TR.
The childishness of God, waic
798
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The feeling of intoxication as matter of fact, equivalent to sensation of surplus power:
strongest in seasons of rut: new organs, new accomplishments, new colours, new forms. Em bellishment an outcome of _increased power. Embellishment merely an expression of
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
241
99
Sexuality and voluptuousness belong to the Dionysiac intoxication: but neither of them lacking in the Apollonian state. There also
difference of tempo between the states. . . The extreme peace of certain feelings of intoxication (or, more strictly, the slackening of the feeling of time, and the reduction of the feeling of space) wont to reflect itself in the vision of the most restful attitudes and states of the soul. The classical style essentially represents repose, simplification, foreshortening, and concentration--the highest feel ing of power concentrated in the classical type. To react with difficulty: great consciousness: no feeling of strife.
800.
? will, of an increased state of co ordination, of harmony of all the strong desires, of an infallible and perpendicular equilibrium.
Logical and geometrical simplification the result of an increase of power: conversely, the mere aspect of such simplification increases the sense of power in the beholder. . The zenith of development: the grand style.
Ugliness signifies the decadence of a type: con VOL. 11. .
triumphant
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THE WILL TO POWER.
tradiction and faulty co-ordination among the in most desires--this means a decline in the organis ing power, or, psychologically speaking,in the "will. "
The condition of pleasure which is called in toxication is really an exalted feeling of power. . . . Sensations of space and time are altered; incrdinate distances are traversed by the eye, and only then become visible; the extension of the vision over greater masses and expanses;-the refinement of the organ which apprehends the smallest and most elusive things; divination, the power of understanding at the slightest hint, at the smallest suggestion; intelligent sensitiveness; strength as a feeling of dominion in the muscles, as agility and love of movement, as dance, as levity and quick time; strength as the love of proving strength, as bravado, adventurousness, fearlessness, indifference in regard to life and death. . . . All these elated moments of life
stimulate each other; the world of images and of imagination of the one suffices as a suggestion for the other: in this way states finally merge into each other, which might do better to keep apart, e. g. the feeling of religious intoxication and sexual irritability (two very profound feelings, always wonderfully co-ordinated. What is it that pleases almost all pious women, old or young? Answer :, a saint with beautiful legs, still young, still in?
nocent). Cruelty in tragedy and pity (likewise " normally correlated). Spring-time, dancing, music, ---all these things are but the display of one sex before the other,--as also that " infinite yearning
of the heart" peculiar to Faust.
? ? ? ? THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
243
? ' ' __
Artists when they are worth anything at all are men of strong propensities (even physically), with surplus energy, powerful animals, sensual without
certain overheating of the sexual system a man like Raphael unthinkable. . . To produce music also in sense to produce children;
chastity merely the economy of the artist, and in all creative artists productiveness certainly ceases. with sexual potency. . Artists should not see things as they are; they should see them fuller, simpler, stronger: to this end, however, kind of youthfulness, of vernality, sort of per petual elation, must be peculiar to their lives.
80x.
The states in which we transfigure things and make them fuller, and rhapsodise about them, until they reflect our own fulness and love of life back upon us: sexuality, intoxication, post-prandial states, spring, triumph over our enemies, scorn, bravado, cruelty, the ecstasy of religious feeling. But three elements above all are active: sexuality, intoxication, cruelty; all these belong to the oldest
festaljoys of mankind, they also preponderate in budding artists.
Conversely: there are things with which we meet which already show us this transfiguration
and fulness, and the animal world's
thereto state of excitement in the spheres Where these states Of happiness originate. A blending of these very delicate shades of animal well-being and desires the aesthetic state. The
response
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THE WILL TO POWER.
latter only manifests itself in those natures which are capable of that spendthrift and overflowing fulness of bodily vigour; the latter is always the primum mobile. The sober-minded man, the tired man, the exhausted and dried-up man (e. g. the scholar), can have no feeling for art, because he does not possess the primitive force of art, which is the tyranny of inner riches: he who
cannot give anything away cannot feel anything either.
"Perfection. "--In these states (more particularly in the case of sexual love) there is an ingenuous betrayal of what the profoundest instinct regards as the highest, the most desirable, the most valuable, the ascending movement of its type; also of the condition towards which it is actually striving. Perfection: the extraordinary expansion
Of this instinct's feeling of power, its riches, its necessary overflowing of all banks.
802.
Art reminds us Of states of physical vigour: it may be the overflow and bursting forth of bloom ing life in the world of pictures and desires; on the other hand, it may be an excitation of the physical functions by means of pictures and desires
of exalted life--an enhancement of the feeling of life, the latter's stimulant.
To what extent can ugliness exercise this
? In so far as it may communicate some thing of the triumphant energy of the artist who has become master of the ugly and the repulsive;
power?
? ? ? (in
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
245
or in so far as gently excites our lust of cruelty
some circumstances even the lust of doing harm to ourselves, self-violence, and therewith the feeling of power over ourselves).
803.
"Beauty" therefore to the artist, something which above all order of rank, because in beauty contrasts are overcome, the highest sign of power thus manifesting itself in the conquest of opposites; and achieved without feeling of tension: violence being no longer necessary, everything submitting and obeying so easily, and doing so with good grace; this what delights the powerful will of the artist.
804.
The biological value of beauty and ugliness. That which we feel instinctively opposed to us aesthetically according to the longest experience of mankind, felt to be harmful, dangerous, and worthy of suspicion: the sudden utterance of the
instinct, eg. in the case of loathing, im plies an act of judgment. To this extent beauty lies within the general category of the biological values, useful, beneficent, and life-promoting: thus, host of stimuli which for ages have been associated with, and remind us of, useful things and conditions, give us the feeling of beauty, i. e. the increase of the feeling of power (not only things, therefore, but the sensations which are associated with such things or their symbols).
'
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THE WILL TO POWER.
In this way beauty and ugliness are recognised as determined by our most fundamental self preservative values. Apart from this, it is nonsense to postulate anything as beautiful or ugly. Ab solute beauty exists just as little as absolute good~ ness and truth. In a particular case it is a matter of the self-preservative conditions of a certain type of man: thus the gregarious man will have quite a different feeling for beauty from the exceptional or super-man.
It is the optics of things in the foreground which only consider immediate consequences, from which the value beauty (also goodness and truth) arises.
All instinctive judgments are short-sighted in regard to the concatenation of consequences: they merely advise what must be done forthwith. Reason is essentially an obstructing apparatus preventing the immediate response to instinctive
judgments: it halts, it calculates, it traces the chain of consequences further.
Judgments concerning beauty and ugliness are short-sighted (reason is always opposed to them): but they are convincing in the highest degree; they appeal to our instincts in that quarter where the latter decide most quickly and say yes or no with least hesitation, even before reason can
interpose.
The most common affirmations of beauty
stimulate each other reciprocally; where the aesthetic impulse once begins to work, a whole host of other and foreign perfections crystallise around the "particular form of beauty. " It is
? ? ? ? impossible impossible
sighted;
THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
247
to remain objective, certainly to dispense with the interpreting, bestowing, transfiguring, and poetising power (the
latter stringing together of aflirmations con cerning beauty itself). The sight of beautiful woman. .
Thus (I) judgment concerning beauty short
sees only the immediate consequences. It smothers the object which gives rise to
(2)
with charm that determined by the associa
tion of various judgments concerning beauty,
which, however, are quite alien to the essence
the particular object. To regard thing as beauti ful necessarily to regard falsely (that why incidentally love marriages are from the social point of view the most unreasonable form of matrimony).
805.
Concerning the genesis of Art--That making perfect and seeing perfect, which peculiar to the cerebral system overladen with sexual energy lover alone with his sweetheart at eventide trans figures the smallest details: life chain of sublime things, " the misfortune of an unhappy love affair more valuable than anything else "); on the other hand, everything perfect and beautiful operates like an unconscious recollection of that amorous condition and of the point of view peculiar to it--all perfection, and the whole of the beauty of things, through contiguity, revives aphrodisiac bliss. (Physiologically the creative instinct of the artist and the distribution
of
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THE WILL T0 POWER.
of his semen in his blood. ) The desire for art and beauty is an indirect longing for the ecstasy of sexual desire, which gets communicated to the brain. The world become perfect through "love. "
806.
Sensuality in its various disguises. --(I) As idealism (Plato), common to youth, constructing a kind of concave-mirror in which the imageof the beloved is an incrustation, an exaggeration, a transfiguration, an attribution of infinity to every thing. (2) In the religion of love, "a fine young man," "a beautiful woman," in some way divine; a bridegroom, a bride of the soul. (3) In art, as a decorating force, e. g. just as the man sees the woman and makes her a present of everything
that can enhance her personal charm, so the sensuality of the artist adorns an Object with everything else that he honours and esteems, and by this means perfects it (or idealises it). Woman, knowing what man feels in regard to her, tries to meetghis idealising endeavours half way by decorating herself, by walking and dancing well, by expressing delicate thoughts: in addition,
she may practise modesty, shyness, reserve--- prompted by her instinctive feeling that the ideal
ising power of man increases with all this.
the extraordinary finesse of woman's instincts, modesty must not by any means be considered as conscious hypocrisy: she guesses that it is pre cisely artlessness and real shame which seduces man most and urges him to an exaggerated
? (In
? ? ? THE WILL TO POWER IN ART.
249
? f I
esteem of her. On this account, woman is in genuous, owing to the subtlety of her instincts which reveal to her the utility of a state of innocence. A wilful closing of one's eyes
to one's self. .
