918. A healthy and vigorous little boy will look up sarcastically if he be asked: " Wilt thou become virtuous? "-but he immediately becomes eager if he be asked: " Wilt thou become stronger than thy comrades? " * How does one become stronger? By deciding slowly; and by holding firmly to the decision once it is made. Everything else follows of itself. Spontaneous and changeable natures: both species of the weak. We must not confound ourselves with them; we must feel distance betimes! Beware of good-natured people! Dealings with them make one torpid. All environment is good which makes one~~exercise those defensive and aggressive powers which are instinctive in man. All one s inventiveness should apply itself to putting one s power of will to the test...Here the determining factor must be recognized as something which is not knowledge, astuteness, or wit. One must learn to command betimes, likewise to obey. A man must learn modesty and tact in modesty: he must learn to distinguish and to honor where modesty is displayed; he must like wise distinguish and honor wherever he bestows his confidence. * What does one repent most? One s modesty; the fact that one has not lent an ear to one s most individual needs; the fact that one has mistaken one s self; the fact that one has esteemed one s self low; the fact that one has lost all delicacy of hearing in regard to one s instincts. This want of reverence in regard to one s self is avenged by all sorts of losses: in health, friendship, well-being, pride, cheerfulness, freedom, determination, cour age. A man never forgives himself, later on, for this want of genuine egoism: he regards it as an objection and as a cause of doubt concerning his real ego.
919. I should like man to begin by respecting himself: everything else follows of itself. Naturally a man ceases from being anything to others in this way: for this is precisely what they are least likely to forgive. " What? a man who respects himself? " * This is something quite different from the blind instinct to love one s self. Nothing is more common in the love of the sexes or in that duality which is * Cf. Disraeli in Tancred: " Self-respect, too, is a super stition of past ages...It is not suited to these times; it is much too arrogant, too self-conceited, too egoistical. No one is important enough to have self-respect nowadays " (book iii. chap. v.). TR. 341 called ego, than_.a. certain contempt for that which is loved: the fatalism of love.
920. " I will have this or that "; u I would that this or that were so "; "I know that this or that is so" the degrees of power: the man of will, the man of desire, the man of fate.
921. The means by which a strong species maintains itself: It grants itself the right of exceptional actions, as a test of the power of self-control and of freedom. It abandons itself to states in which a man is not allowed to be anything else than a barbarian. It tries to acquire strength of will by everykind of asceticism. It is not expansive; it practises silence; it is cautious in regard to all charms. It learns to obey in such a way that obedi ence provides a test of self-maintenance. Casujstryis carried to its highest pitch in regard to points of honor. It never argues, " What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," but conversely! it regards reward, and the ability to repay, as a privilege, as a distinction. It does not covet other people s virtues.
922. The way in which one has to treat raw savages and the impossibility of dispensing with barbarous methods, becomes obvious, in practice, when one is transplanted, with all one s European pampering, to a spot such as the Congo, or anywhere else where it is necessary to maintain one s mastery over barbarians.
923. Warlike and peaceful people. Art thou a man who has the instincts of a warrior in thy blood? If this be so, another question must be put. Do thy instincts impel thee to attack or to defend? The rest of mankind, all those whose instincts are not warlike, desire peace, concord, " freedom," " equal rights ": these things are but names and steps for one and the same thing. Such men only wish to go where it is not necessary for them to defend themselves, such men become discon tented with themselves when they are obliged to offer resistance: they would fain create circum stances in which war is no longer necessary. If the worst came to the worst, they would resign themselves, obey, and submit: all these things are better than waging war thus does the Christian s instinct, for instance, whisper to him. In the born warrior s character there is something of armour, likewise in the choice of his circumstances and in the development of every one of his qualities: weapons are best evolved by the latter type, shields are best devised by the former. What expedients and what virtues do the un armed and the undefended require in order to survive and even to conquer?
924. What will become of a man who no longer has any reasons for either defence or attack? What will remain of his passions when he has lost those which form his defence and his weapons?
925. A marginal note to a niaiserie anglaise: " Do not to others that which you would not that they should do unto you." This stands for wisdom; this stands for prudence; this stands as the very basis of morality as " a golden maxim." John Stuart Mill believes in it (and what Englishman does not?)...But the maxim does not bear investigation. The argument, " Do not as you would not be done by," forbids action which pro duce harmful results; the thought behind always is that an action is invariably requited. What if some one came forward with the " Principe " in his hands, and said: " We must do those actions alone which enable us to steal a march on others, and which deprive others of the power of doing the same to us "? On the other hand, let us re member the Corsican who pledges his honor to vendetta. He too does not desire to have a bullet through him; but the prospect of one, the proba bility of getting one, does not deter him from vindicating his honor...And in all really de cent actions are we not intentionally indifferent as to what result they will bring? To avoid an action which might have harmful results, that would be tantamount to forbidding all decent actions in general. Apart from this, the above maxim is valuable because it betrays a certain type of man: it is the instinct of the herd which formulates itself through him, we are equal, we regard each other as equal: as I am to thee so art thou to me. In this com munity equivalence of actions is really believed in an equivalence which never under any circum stances manifests itself in real conditions. It is impossible to requite every action: among real individuals equal actions do not exist, consequently there can be no such thing as " requital."...When I do anything I am very far from thinking that any" man is able to do anything at all tike it: the action belongs to me...Nobody can pay me back for anything I do; the most that can be done is to make me the victim of another action.
926. Against John Stuart Mill. I abhor the man s vulgarity when he says: " What is right for one man is right for another "; " Do not to others that which you would not that they should do unto you." Such principles would fain establish the whole of human traffic upon mutual services so that every action would appear to be a cash pay ment for something done to us. The hypothesis here is ignoble to the last degree: it_is_ taken- for granted. that there is some sort of cqttivalence in value between my actions and thine; the most per sonal value of an action is simply cancelled in this manner (that part of an action which has no equivalent and which cannot be remunerated). " Reciprocity " is a piece of egregious vulgarity; the mere fact that what I do cannot and may not be done by another, that there is no such thing as equivalence (except in those very select circles where one actually has one s equal, inter pares], that in a really profound sense a man never re quites because he is something unique in himself and can only do unique things, this fundamental conviction contains the cause of aristocratic aloof ness from the mob, because the latter believes in equality,and consequently in the feasibility of equiva lence and " reciprocity."
927. The suburban Philistinism of moral valuations and of its concepts " useful " and " harmful " is well founded; it is the necessary point of view of a community which is only able to see and survey immediate and proximate consequences. The State and the political man are already in need of a more super-moral attitude of mind: because they have to calculate concerning a much * more complicated tissue of consequences. An eco- nomic policy for the whole world should be possible which could look at things in such broad perspec- l tive that all its isolated demands would seem for J:he moment not only unjust, but arbitrary.
928. " Should one follow one s feelings? " To set one s life at stake on the impulse of the moment, and actuated by a generous feeling, has little worth, and does not even distinguish one. Everybody is alike in being capable of this and in behaving in this way with determination, the criminal, the bandit, and the Corsican certainly outstrip the honest man. A higher degree of excellence would be to over come this impulse, and to refrain from performing an heroic deed at its bidding, and to remain cold, raisonnable, free from the tempestuous surging of concomitant sensations of delight...The same -. holds good of pity: it must first be sifted through I reason; without this it becomes just as dangerous 1 as any other passion. i The blind yielding to a passion, whether it be j generosity, pity, or hostility, is the cause of the I greatest evil. Greatness of character does not consist in not possessing these passions on the contrary, a man should possess them to a terrible degree: but he should lead them by the bridle...and even this he should not do out of love of con trol, but merely because...
929. " To give up one s life for a cause " very effec tive. But there are many things for which one gives up one s life: the passions, one and all, will be gratified. Whether one s life be pledged to pity, to anger, or to revenge it matters not from the point of view of value. How many have not sacrificed their lives for pretty girls and even what is worse, their health! When one has temperament, one instinctively chooses the most dangerous things: if one is a philosopher, for in stance, one chooses the adventures of speculation; if one is virtuous, one chooses immorality. One kind of man will risk nothing, another kind will risk everything. Are we despisers of life? On the contrary, what we seek is life raised to a higher power, life in danger...But, let me re- peat, we do not, on that account, wish to be more virtuous than others. Pascal, for instance, wished to risk nothing, and remained a Christian. That perhaps was virtuous. A man always sacrifices something.
930. How many advantages does not a man sacrifice! To how small an extent does he seek his own profit! All his emotions and passions wish to assert their rights, and how remote a passion is irom that cautious utility which consists in personal profit! A man does not strive after " happiness "; one must be an Englishman to be able to believe that a man is always seeking his own advantage. Our desires long to violate things with passion their overflowing strength seeks obstacles.
931. All passions are generally useful, some directly, others indirectly; in regard to utility it is absolutely impossible to fix upon any gradation of values, however certainly the forces of nature in general may be regarded as good (i.e. useful), from an economic point of view, they are still the sources of much that is terrible and much that is fatally irrevocable. The most one might say would be, that the mightiest passions are the most valuable: seeing that no stronger sources of power exist.
932. All well-meaning, helpful, good-natured attitudes of mind have not come to be honored on account, of their usefulness: but because they are the conditions peculiar to rich souls who are able to 4 bestow and whose value consists in their vital exuberance. Look into the eyes of the benevolent man! In them you will see the exact reverse of self-denial, of hatred of self, of " Pascalism."
933. In short what we require is to dominate the passions and not to weaken or to extirpate them! The greater the dominating power of the will, the greater the freedom that may be given to t the passions. The " great man " is so, owing to the free scope which he gives to his desires, and to the still greater power which knows how to enlist these magnificent monsters into its service. The " good man " in every stage of civilisation is at one and the same time the least dangerous and the most useful: a sort of medium; the idea formed of such a man by the common mind is that he is some one whom one has no reason to fear but whom one must not therefore despise. Education: essentially a means of ruining ex ceptions in favour of the rule. Culture: essenti- I ally the means of directing taste against the exceptions in favour of the mediocre. Only when a culture can dispose of an overflow of force, is it capable of being a hothouse for the luxurious culture of the exception, of the experi ment, of the danger, of the nuance: this is the tendency of every aristocratic culture.
934. All questions of strength: to what extent ought one to try and prevail against the preservative measures of society and the latter s prejudices? to what extent ought one to unfetter one s terrible qualities through which so many go to the dogs? to what extent ought one to run counter to truth and take up sides with its most questionable aspects? to what extent ought one to oppose suffering, self-contempt, pity, disease, vice, when it is always open to question whether one can ever master them (what does not kill us makes us stronger...)? and, finally, to what extent ought one to acknowledge the rights of the rule, of the common-place, of the petty, of the good, of the upright, in fact of the average man, without thereby allowing one s self to become vulgar?...The strongest test of character is to resist being ruined by the seductiveness of goodness. Good ness must be regarded as a luxury, as a refine ment, as a vice.
3. THE NOBLE MAN.
935. Type: real goodness, nobility, greatness of soul, as the result of vital wealth: which does not give in order to receive and which has no desire to elevate itself by being good; squandering is typical of genuine goodness; vital personal wealth is its prerequisite.
936. Aristocracy. Gregarious ideals at present culminating in the highest standard of value for society. It has been attempted to give them a cosmic, yea, and even a metaphysical, value. I defend aristocracy against them. Any society which would of itself preserve a feeling of respect and dtticatesse in regard to freedom, must consider itself as an exception, and have a force against it from which it distinguishes itself, and upon which it looks down with hostility. The more rights I surrender and the more I level myself down to others, the more deeply do I sink into the average and ultimately into the greatest number. The first condition which an aristocratic society must have in order to maintain a high degree of freedom among its members, is that extreme tension which arises from the presence of the most antagonistic instincts in all its units: from their will to dominate...If ye would fain do away with strong contrasts and differences of rank, ye will also abolish strong love, lofty attitudes of mind, and the feeling of individuality. * Concerning the actual psychology of societies based upon freedom and equality. What is it that tends to diminish in such a society? The will to be responsible for one s self (the loss of this is a sign of the decline of autonomy); the ability to defend and to attack, even in spiritual matters; the power of command; the sense of reverence, of subservience, the ability to be silent; great passion, great achievements, tragedy and cheerfulness.
937. In 1814 Augustin Thierry read what Mont- losier had said in his work, De la Monarchic francaise: he answered with a cry of indignation, and set himself to his task. That emigrant had said: " Race d affranchis, race d esclaves arrache s de nos mains, peuple tributaire, peuple nouveau, licence vous fut octroyce d etre libres, et non pas a nous d etre nobles; pour nous tout est de droit, pour vous tout est de grace, nous ne sommes point de votre com- munautt; nous sommes un tout par nous memes" 938. How constantly the aristocratic world shears and weakens itself ever more and more! By means of its noble instincts it abandons its privileges, and owing to its refined and excessive culture, it takes an interest in the people, the weak, the poor, and the poetry of the lowly, etc.
939. There is such a thing as a noble and dangerous form of carelessness, which allows of profound conclusions and insight: the carelessness of the self-reliant and over-rich soul, which has never troubled itself about friends, but which knows only hospitality and knows how to practise it; whose heart and house are open to all who will enter beggar, cripple, or king. This is genuine sociability: he who is capable of it has hundreds of " friends," but probably not one friend.
940. The teaching {meden agan} applies to men with overflowing strength, not to the mediocre. {enkrateia} and {askesis} are only steps to higher things. Above them stands "golden Nature." "Thou shalt" unconditional obedience in Stoics, in Christian and Arabian Orders, in Kant s philosophy (it is immaterial whether this obedience is shown to a superior or to a concept). Higher than "Thou shalt" stands "I will" (the heroes); higher than "I will" stands "I am" (the gods of the Greeks). Barbarian gods express nothing of the pleasure of restraint, they are neither simple, nor light-hearted, nor moderate.
941. The essence of our gardens and palaces (and to the same extent the essence of all yearning after riches) is the desire to rid the eye of disorder and vulgarity, and to build a home for our soul's nobility. The majority of people certainly believe that they will develop higher natures when those beautiful and peaceful things have operated upon them: hence the exodus to Italy, hence all travelling, etc., and all reading and visits to theatres. People want to be formed, that is the kernel of their labors for culture! But the strong, the mighty, would themselves have a hand in the forming, and would fain have nothing strange about them. It is for this reason, too, that men go to open nature, not to find themselves, but to lose themselves and to forget themselves. The desire "to get away from one's self" is proper to all weaklings, and to all those who are discontented with themselves.
942. The only nobility is that of birth and blood. (I do not refer here to the prefix " Lord " and L almanac de Gotha: this is a parenthesis for donkeys.) Wherever people speak of the " aristo cracy of intellect," reasons are generally not lacking for concealing something; it is known to be a password among ambitious Jews. Intellect alone does not ennoble; on the contrary, some thing is always needed to ennoble intellect. What then is needed? Blood.
943. " T1 iat is noble? External punctiliousness; because this punc tiliousness hedges a man about, keeps him at a distance, saves him from being confounded with somebody else. A frivolous appearance in word, clothing, and bearing, with which stoical hardness and self- control protect themselves from all prying inquisi- tiveness or curiosity. A slow step and a slow glance. There are not too many valuable things on earth: and these come and wish to come of themselves to him who has value. We are not quick to admire. We know how to bear poverty, want, and even illness. We avoid small honors owing to our mis trust of all who are over-ready to praise: for the man who praises believes he understands what he praises: but to understand Balzac, that typical man of ambition, betrayed the fact comprendre Jest galer. Our doubt concerning the communicativeness of our hearts goes very deep; to us, loneliness is not a matter of choice, it is imposed upon us. We are convinced that we only have duties to our equals, to others we do as we think best: we know that justice is only to be expected among equals (alas! this will not be realized for some time to come). We are ironical towards the " gifted "; we hold the belief that no morality is possible with out good birth. We always feel as if we were those who had to dispense honors: while he is not found too frequently who would be worthy of honoring us. We are always disguised: the higher a man s nature the more is he in need of remaining incog nito. If there be a God, then out of sheer decency He ought only to show Himself on earth in the form of a man. We are capable of otium, of the uncondi tional conviction that although a handicraft does not shame one in any sense, it certainly reduces one s rank. However much we may respect " in dustry," and know how to give it its due, we do not appreciate it in a bourgeois sense, or after the manner of those insatiable and cackling artists who, like hens, cackle and lay eggs, and cackle again. We protect artists and poets and any one who happens to be a master in something; but as creatures of a higher order than those, who only know how to do something, who are only " pro ductive men," we do not confound ourselves with them. We find joy in all forms and ceremonies; we would fain foster everything formal, and we are convinced that courtesy is one of the greatest virtues; we feel suspicious of every kind of laisser alter, including the freedom of the press and of thought; because, under such conditions, the intel lect grows easy-going and coarse, and stretches its limbs. We take pleasure in women as in a perhaps daintier, more delicate, and more ethereal kind of creature. What a treat it is to meet creatures who have only dancing and nonsense and finery in their minds! They have always been the de light of every tense and profound male soul, whose life is burdened with heavy responsibilities. We take pleasure in princes and in priests, because in big things, as in small, they actually up hold the belief in the difference of human values, even in the estimation of the past, and at least symbolically. We are able to keep silence: but we do not breathe a word of this in the presence of listeners. We are able to endure long enmities: we lack the power of easy reconciliations. We have a loathing of demagogism, of en lightenment, of amiability, and plebeian familiarity. We collect precious things, the needs of higher and fastidious souls; we wish to possess nothing in common. We want to have our own books, our own landscapes. We protest against evil and fine experiences, and take care not to generalise too quickly. The individual case: how ironically we regard it when it has the bad taste to put on the airs of a rule! We love that which is natf, and naif people, but as spectators and higher creatures; we think Faust is just as simple as his Margaret. We have a low estimation of good people, because they are gregarious animals: we know how often an invaluable golden drop of goodness lies concealed beneath the most evil, the most malicious, and the hardest exterior, and that this single grain outweighs all the mere goody-goodi- ness of milk-and-watery souls. We don t regard a man of our kind as refuted by his vices, nor by his tomfooleries. We are well aware that we are not recognized with ease, and that we have every reason to make our foreground very prominent.
944. What is noble? The fact that one is constantly forced to be playing a part. That one is constantly searching for situations in which one is forced to put on airs. That one leaves happiness to the greatest number: the happiness which consists of inner peacefulness, of virtue, of comfort, and of Anglo-angelic-back-parlour-smugness,tf la Spencer. That one instinctively seeks for heavy responsi bilities. That one knows how to create enemies everywhere, at a pinch even in one s self. That one contradicts the greatest number not in words at all, but by continually behaving differently from them.
945. Virtue (for instance, truthfulness) is our most noble and most dangerous luxury. We must not decline the disadvantages which it brings in its train.
946. We refuse to be praised: we do what serves our purpose, what gives us pleasure, or what we are obliged to do.
947. What is chastity in a man? It means that his taste in sex has remained noble; that in eroticis he likes neither the brutal, the morbid, nor the clever.
948. The concept of honor is founded upon the belief in select society, in knightly excellences, in the obligation of having continually to play a part. In essentials it means that one does not take one s life too seriously, that one adheres unconditionally to the most dignified manners in one s dealings with everybody (at least in so far as they do not belong to " us "); that one is neither familiar, nor good-natured, nor hearty, nor modest, except inter pares; that one is always playing a part.
949. The fact that one sets one s life, one s health, and one s honor at stake, is the result of high spirits and of an overflowing and spendthrift will: it is not the result of philanthropy, but of the fact that every danger kindles our curiosity concern ing the measure of our strength, and provokes our courage.
950. " Eagles swoop down straight " nobility of soul is best revealed by the magnificent and proud foolishness with which it makes its attacks.
951. War should be made against all namby-pamby ideas of nobility A certain modicum of brutality cannot be dispensed with: no more than we can do without a certain approximation to criminality. " Self-satisfaction " must not be allowed; a man should look upon himself with an adventurous spirit; he should experiment with himself and run risks with himself no beautiful soul-quackery should be tolerated. I want to give a more robust ideal a chance of prevailing.
952. " Paradise is under the shadow of a swordsman " this is also a symbol and a test-word by which souls with noble and warrior-like origin betray and discover themselves.
953. The two paths. There comes a period when man has a surplus amount of power at his dis posal. Science aims at establishing the slavery of nature. Then man acquires the leisure in which to develop himself into something new and more lofty. A new aristocracy. It is then that a large number of virtues which are now conditions of existence are superseded. Qualities which are no longer needed are on that account lost. We no longer need virtues: consequently we are losing them (likewise the morality of "one thing is needful," of the salvation of the soul, and of im mortality: these were means wherewith to make man capable of enormous self-tyranny, through the emotion of great fear!!!). The different kinds of needs by means of whose discipline man is formed: need teaches work, thought, and self-control. * Physiological purification and strengthening. The new aristocracy is in need of an opposing body which it may combat: it must be driven to ex tremities in order to maintain itself. The two futures of mankind: (i) the conse quence of a levelling-down to mediocrity; (2) conscious aloofness and self-development. A doctrine which would cleave gulf: it maintains the highest and the lowest species (it destroys the intermediate). The aristocracies, both spiritual and temporal, which have existed hitherto prove nothing against the necessity of a new aristocracy.
4. THE LORDS OF THE EARTH.
954. A certain question constantly recurs to us; it is perhaps a seductive and evil question; may it be whispered into the ears of those who have a right to such doubtful problems those strong souls of today whose dominion over themselves is un swerving: is it not high time, now that the type " gregarious animal " is developing ever more and more in Europe, to set about rearing, thoroughly, artificially, and consciously, an opposite type, and to attempt to establish the latter s virtues? And would not the democratic movement itself find for the first time a sort of goal, salvation, and justifi cation, if some one appeared who availed himself of it so that at last, beside its new and sublime product, slavery (for this must be the end of European democracy), that higher species of ruling and Caesarian spirits might also be produced, which would stand upon it, hold to it, and would elevate themselves through it? This new race would climb aloft to new and hitherto impossible things, to a broader vision, and to its task on earth.
955. The aspect of the European of today makes me very hopeful. A daring and ruling race is here building itself up upon the foundation of an extremely intelligent, gregarious mass. It is obvious that the educational movements for the latter are not alone prominent nowadays.
956. The same conditions which go to develop the gregarious animal also force the development of the leaders.
957. The question, and at the same time the task, is approaching with hesitation, terrible as Fate, but nevertheless inevitable: how shall the earth as a whole be ruled? And to what end shall man as a whole no longer as a people or as a race be reared and trained? Legislative moralities are the principal means by which one can form mankind, according to the fancy oi a creative and profound will: provided, of course, that such an artistic will of the first order gets the power into its own hands, and can make its creative will prevail over long periods in the form of legislation, religions, and morals. At present, and probably for some time to come, one will seek such colossally creative men, such really great men, as I understand them, in vain: they will be lacking, until, after many disappointments, we are forced to begin to understand why it is they are lacking, and that nothing bars with greater hostility their rise and development, at present and for some time to come, than that which is now called the morality in Europe. Just as if there were no other kind of morality, and could be no other kind, than the one we have already characterised as herd-morality. It is this morality which is now striving with all its power, to attain to that green-meadow happiness on earth, which consists in security, absence of danger, ease, I facilities for livelihood, and, last but not least, " if! all goes well," even hopes to dispense with all; kinds of shepherds and bell-wethers. The two doctrines which it preaches most universally are ~" equality of rights " and " pity for all sufferers " and it even regards suffering itself as something which must be got rid of absolutely. That such ideas may be modern leads one to think very poorly of modernity. He, however, who has re flected deeply concerning the question, how and where the plant man has hitherto grown most vigorously, is forced to believe that this has 363 always taken place under the opposite conditions; that to this end the danger of the situation has to increase enormously, his inventive faculty and dissembling powers have to fight their way up under long oppression and compulsion, and his will to life has to be increased to the uncon ditioned will to power, to over-power: he believes that danger, severity, violence, peril in the street and in the heart, inequality of rights, secrecy, stoicism, seductive art, and devilry of every kind in short, the opposite of all gregarious desiderata are necessary for the elevation of man. Such a morality with opposite designs, which would rear man upwards instead of to comfort and mediocrity; such a morality, with the intention of producing a ruling caste the future