Reading Help Beyond good and evil
the grammatical subject: one said, "I" is the condition, "think" `
` is the predicate and is conditioned--to think is an activity for `
` which one MUST suppose a subject as cause. The attempt was then `
` made, with marvelous tenacity and subtlety, to see if one could `
` not get out of this net,--to see if the opposite was not perhaps `
` true: "think" the condition, and "I" the conditioned; "I," `
` therefore, only a synthesis which has been MADE by thinking `
` itself. KANT really wished to prove that, starting from the `
` subject, the subject could not be proved--nor the object either: `
` the possibility of an APPARENT EXISTENCE of the subject, and `
` therefore of "the soul," may not always have been strange to `
` him,--the thought which once had an immense power on earth as the `
` Vedanta philosophy. `
` `
` 55. There is a great ladder of religious cruelty, with many `
` rounds; but three of these are the most important. Once on a time `
` men sacrificed human beings to their God, and perhaps just those `
` they loved the best--to this category belong the firstling `
` sacrifices of all primitive religions, and also the sacrifice of `
` the Emperor Tiberius in the Mithra-Grotto on the Island of Capri, `
` that most terrible of all Roman anachronisms. Then, during the `
` moral epoch of mankind, they sacrificed to their God the `
` strongest instincts they possessed, their "nature"; THIS festal `
` joy shines in the cruel glances of ascetics and "anti-natural" `
` fanatics. Finally, what still remained to be sacrificed? Was it `
` not necessary in the end for men to sacrifice everything `
` comforting, holy, healing, all hope, all faith in hidden `
` harmonies, in future blessedness and justice? Was it not `
` necessary to sacrifice God himself, and out of cruelty to `
` themselves to worship stone, stupidity, gravity, fate, `
` nothingness? To sacrifice God for nothingness--this paradoxical `
` mystery of the ultimate cruelty has been reserved for the rising `
` generation; we all know something thereof already. `
` `
` 56. Whoever, like myself, prompted by some enigmatical desire, `
` has long endeavoured to go to the bottom of the question of `
` pessimism and free it from the half-Christian, half-German `
` narrowness and stupidity in which it has finally presented itself `
` to this century, namely, in the form of Schopenhauer's `
` philosophy; whoever, with an Asiatic and super-Asiatic eye, has `
` actually looked inside, and into the most world-renouncing of all `
` possible modes of thought--beyond good and evil, and no longer `
` like Buddha and Schopenhauer, under the dominion and delusion of `
` morality,--whoever has done this, has perhaps just thereby, `
` without really desiring it, opened his eyes to behold the `
` opposite ideal: the ideal of the most world-approving, exuberant, `
` and vivacious man, who has not only learnt to compromise and `
` arrange with that which was and is, but wishes to have it again `
` AS IT WAS AND IS, for all eternity, insatiably calling out de `
` capo, not only to himself, but to the whole piece and play; and `
` not only the play, but actually to him who requires the play--and `
` makes it necessary; because he always requires himself anew--and `
` makes himself necessary.--What? And this would not be--circulus `
` vitiosus deus? `
` `
` 57. The distance, and as it were the space around man, grows with `
` the strength of his intellectual vision and insight: his world `
` becomes profounder; new stars, new enigmas, and notions are ever `
` coming into view. Perhaps everything on which the intellectual `
` eye has exercised its acuteness and profundity has just been an `
` occasion for its exercise, something of a game, something for `
` children and childish minds. Perhaps the most solemn conceptions `
` that have caused the most fighting and suffering, the conceptions `
` "God" and "sin," will one day seem to us of no more importance `
` than a child's plaything or a child's pain seems to an old man;-- `
` and perhaps another plaything and another pain will then be `
` necessary once more for "the old man"--always childish enough, an `
` eternal child! `
` `
` 58. Has it been observed to what extent outward idleness, or `
` semi-idleness, is necessary to a real religious life (alike for `
` its favourite microscopic labour of self-examination, and for its `
` soft placidity called "prayer," the state of perpetual readiness `
` for the "coming of God"), I mean the idleness with a good `
` conscience, the idleness of olden times and of blood, to which `
` the aristocratic sentiment that work is DISHONOURING--that it `
` vulgarizes body and soul--is not quite unfamiliar? And that `
` consequently the modern, noisy, time-engrossing, conceited, `
` foolishly proud laboriousness educates and prepares for `
` "unbelief" more than anything else? Among these, for instance, `
` who are at present living apart from religion in Germany, I find `
` "free-thinkers" of diversified species and origin, but above all `
` a majority of those in whom laboriousness from generation to `
` generation has dissolved the religious instincts; so that they no `
` longer know what purpose religions serve, and only note their `
` existence in the world with a kind of dull astonishment. They `
` feel themselves already fully occupied, these good people, be it `
` by their business or by their pleasures, not to mention the `
` "Fatherland," and the newspapers, and their "family duties"; it `
` seems that they have no time whatever left for religion; and `
` above all, it is not obvious to them whether it is a question of `
` a new business or a new pleasure--for it is impossible, they say `
` to themselves, that people should go to church merely to spoil `
` their tempers. They are by no means enemies of religious customs; `
` should certain circumstances, State affairs perhaps, require `
` their participation in such customs, they do what is required, as `
` so many things are done--with a patient and unassuming `
` seriousness, and without much curiosity or discomfort;--they live `
` too much apart and outside to feel even the necessity for a FOR `
` or AGAINST in such matters. Among those indifferent persons may `
` be reckoned nowadays the majority of German Protestants of the `
` middle classes, especially in the great laborious centres of `
` trade and commerce; also the majority of laborious scholars, and `
` the entire University personnel (with the exception of the `
` theologians, whose existence and possibility there always gives `
` psychologists new and more subtle puzzles to solve). On the part `
` of pious, or merely church-going people, there is seldom any idea `
` of HOW MUCH good-will, one might say arbitrary will, is now `
` necessary for a German scholar to take the problem of religion `
` seriously; his whole profession (and as I have said, his whole `
` workmanlike laboriousness, to which he is compelled by his modern `
` conscience) inclines him to a lofty and almost charitable `
` serenity as regards religion, with which is occasionally mingled `
` a slight disdain for the "uncleanliness" of spirit which he takes `
` for granted wherever any one still professes to belong to the `
` Church. It is only with the help of history (NOT through his own `
` personal experience, therefore) that the scholar succeeds in `
` bringing himself to a respectful seriousness, and to a certain `
` timid deference in presence of religions; but even when his `
` sentiments have reached the stage of gratitude towards them, he `
` has not personally advanced one step nearer to that which still `
` maintains itself as Church or as piety; perhaps even the `
` contrary. The practical indifference to religious matters in the `
` midst of which he has been born and brought up, usually `
` sublimates itself in his case into circumspection and `
` cleanliness, which shuns contact with religious men and things; `
` and it may be just the depth of his tolerance and humanity which `
` prompts him to avoid the delicate trouble which tolerance itself `
` brings with it.--Every age has its own divine type of naivete, `
` for the discovery of which other ages may envy it: and how much `
` naivete--adorable, childlike, and boundlessly foolish naivete is `
` involved in this belief of the scholar in his superiority, in the `
` good conscience of his tolerance, in the unsuspecting, simple `
` certainty with which his instinct treats the religious man as a `
` lower and less valuable type, beyond, before, and ABOVE which he `
` himself has developed--he, the little arrogant dwarf and mob-man, `
` the sedulously alert, head-and-hand drudge of "ideas," of "modern `
` ideas"! `
` `
` 59. Whoever has seen deeply into the world has doubtless divined `
` what wisdom there is in the fact that men are superficial. It is `
` their preservative instinct which teaches them to be flighty, `
` lightsome, and false. Here and there one finds a passionate and `
` exaggerated adoration of "pure forms" in philosophers as well as `
` in artists: it is not to be doubted that whoever has NEED of the `
` cult of the superficial to that extent, has at one time or `
` another made an unlucky dive BENEATH it. Perhaps there is even an `
` order of rank with respect to those burnt children, the born `
` artists who find the enjoyment of life only in trying to FALSIFY `
` its image (as if taking wearisome revenge on it), one might guess `
` to what degree life has disgusted them, by the extent to which `
` they wish to see its image falsified, attenuated, ultrified, and `
` deified,--one might reckon the homines religiosi among the `
` artists, as their HIGHEST rank. It is the profound, suspicious `
` fear of an incurable pessimism which compels whole centuries to `
` fasten their teeth into a religious interpretation of existence: `
` the fear of the instinct which divines that truth might be `
` attained TOO soon, before man has become strong enough, hard `
` enough, artist enough. . . . Piety, the "Life in God," regarded in `
` this light, would appear as the most elaborate and ultimate `
` product of the FEAR of truth, as artist-adoration and artist- `
` intoxication in presence of the most logical of all `
` falsifications, as the will to the inversion of truth, to untruth `
` at any price. Perhaps there has hitherto been no more effective `
` means of beautifying man than piety, by means of it man can `
` become so artful, so superficial, so iridescent, and so good, `
` that his appearance no longer offends. `
` `
` 60. To love mankind FOR GOD'S SAKE--this has so far been the `
` noblest and remotest sentiment to which mankind has attained. `
` That love to mankind, without any redeeming intention in the `
` background, is only an ADDITIONAL folly and brutishness, that the `
` inclination to this love has first to get its proportion, its `
` delicacy, its gram of salt and sprinkling of ambergris from a `
` higher inclination--whoever first perceived and "experienced" `
` this, however his tongue may have stammered as it attempted to `
` express such a delicate matter, let him for all time be holy and `
` respected, as the man who has so far flown highest and gone `
` astray in the finest fashion! `
` `
` 61. The philosopher, as WE free spirits understand him--as the `
` man of the greatest responsibility, who has the conscience for `
` the general development of mankind,--will use religion for his `
` disciplining and educating work, just as he will use the `
` contemporary political and economic conditions. The selecting and `
` disciplining influence--destructive, as well as creative and `
` fashioning--which can be exercised by means of religion is `
` manifold and varied, according to the sort of people placed under `
` its spell and protection. For those who are strong and `
` independent, destined and trained to command, in whom the `
` judgment and skill of a ruling race is incorporated, religion is `
` an additional means for overcoming resistance in the exercise of `
` authority--as a bond which binds rulers and subjects in common, `
` betraying and surrendering to the former the conscience of the `
` latter, their inmost heart, which would fain escape obedience. `
` And in the case of the unique natures of noble origin, if by `
` virtue of superior spirituality they should incline to a more `
` retired and contemplative life, reserving to themselves only the `
` more refined forms of government (over chosen disciples or `
` members of an order), religion itself may be used as a means for `
` obtaining peace from the noise and trouble of managing GROSSER `
`
` is the predicate and is conditioned--to think is an activity for `
` which one MUST suppose a subject as cause. The attempt was then `
` made, with marvelous tenacity and subtlety, to see if one could `
` not get out of this net,--to see if the opposite was not perhaps `
` true: "think" the condition, and "I" the conditioned; "I," `
` therefore, only a synthesis which has been MADE by thinking `
` itself. KANT really wished to prove that, starting from the `
` subject, the subject could not be proved--nor the object either: `
` the possibility of an APPARENT EXISTENCE of the subject, and `
` therefore of "the soul," may not always have been strange to `
` him,--the thought which once had an immense power on earth as the `
` Vedanta philosophy. `
` `
` 55. There is a great ladder of religious cruelty, with many `
` rounds; but three of these are the most important. Once on a time `
` men sacrificed human beings to their God, and perhaps just those `
` they loved the best--to this category belong the firstling `
` sacrifices of all primitive religions, and also the sacrifice of `
` the Emperor Tiberius in the Mithra-Grotto on the Island of Capri, `
` that most terrible of all Roman anachronisms. Then, during the `
` moral epoch of mankind, they sacrificed to their God the `
` strongest instincts they possessed, their "nature"; THIS festal `
` joy shines in the cruel glances of ascetics and "anti-natural" `
` fanatics. Finally, what still remained to be sacrificed? Was it `
` not necessary in the end for men to sacrifice everything `
` comforting, holy, healing, all hope, all faith in hidden `
` harmonies, in future blessedness and justice? Was it not `
` necessary to sacrifice God himself, and out of cruelty to `
` themselves to worship stone, stupidity, gravity, fate, `
` nothingness? To sacrifice God for nothingness--this paradoxical `
` mystery of the ultimate cruelty has been reserved for the rising `
` generation; we all know something thereof already. `
` `
` 56. Whoever, like myself, prompted by some enigmatical desire, `
` has long endeavoured to go to the bottom of the question of `
` pessimism and free it from the half-Christian, half-German `
` narrowness and stupidity in which it has finally presented itself `
` to this century, namely, in the form of Schopenhauer's `
` philosophy; whoever, with an Asiatic and super-Asiatic eye, has `
` actually looked inside, and into the most world-renouncing of all `
` possible modes of thought--beyond good and evil, and no longer `
` like Buddha and Schopenhauer, under the dominion and delusion of `
` morality,--whoever has done this, has perhaps just thereby, `
` without really desiring it, opened his eyes to behold the `
` opposite ideal: the ideal of the most world-approving, exuberant, `
` and vivacious man, who has not only learnt to compromise and `
` arrange with that which was and is, but wishes to have it again `
` AS IT WAS AND IS, for all eternity, insatiably calling out de `
` capo, not only to himself, but to the whole piece and play; and `
` not only the play, but actually to him who requires the play--and `
` makes it necessary; because he always requires himself anew--and `
` makes himself necessary.--What? And this would not be--circulus `
` vitiosus deus? `
` `
` 57. The distance, and as it were the space around man, grows with `
` the strength of his intellectual vision and insight: his world `
` becomes profounder; new stars, new enigmas, and notions are ever `
` coming into view. Perhaps everything on which the intellectual `
` eye has exercised its acuteness and profundity has just been an `
` occasion for its exercise, something of a game, something for `
` children and childish minds. Perhaps the most solemn conceptions `
` that have caused the most fighting and suffering, the conceptions `
` "God" and "sin," will one day seem to us of no more importance `
` than a child's plaything or a child's pain seems to an old man;-- `
` and perhaps another plaything and another pain will then be `
` necessary once more for "the old man"--always childish enough, an `
` eternal child! `
` `
` 58. Has it been observed to what extent outward idleness, or `
` semi-idleness, is necessary to a real religious life (alike for `
` its favourite microscopic labour of self-examination, and for its `
` soft placidity called "prayer," the state of perpetual readiness `
` for the "coming of God"), I mean the idleness with a good `
` conscience, the idleness of olden times and of blood, to which `
` the aristocratic sentiment that work is DISHONOURING--that it `
` vulgarizes body and soul--is not quite unfamiliar? And that `
` consequently the modern, noisy, time-engrossing, conceited, `
` foolishly proud laboriousness educates and prepares for `
` "unbelief" more than anything else? Among these, for instance, `
` who are at present living apart from religion in Germany, I find `
` "free-thinkers" of diversified species and origin, but above all `
` a majority of those in whom laboriousness from generation to `
` generation has dissolved the religious instincts; so that they no `
` longer know what purpose religions serve, and only note their `
` existence in the world with a kind of dull astonishment. They `
` feel themselves already fully occupied, these good people, be it `
` by their business or by their pleasures, not to mention the `
` "Fatherland," and the newspapers, and their "family duties"; it `
` seems that they have no time whatever left for religion; and `
` above all, it is not obvious to them whether it is a question of `
` a new business or a new pleasure--for it is impossible, they say `
` to themselves, that people should go to church merely to spoil `
` their tempers. They are by no means enemies of religious customs; `
` should certain circumstances, State affairs perhaps, require `
` their participation in such customs, they do what is required, as `
` so many things are done--with a patient and unassuming `
` seriousness, and without much curiosity or discomfort;--they live `
` too much apart and outside to feel even the necessity for a FOR `
` or AGAINST in such matters. Among those indifferent persons may `
` be reckoned nowadays the majority of German Protestants of the `
` middle classes, especially in the great laborious centres of `
` trade and commerce; also the majority of laborious scholars, and `
` the entire University personnel (with the exception of the `
` theologians, whose existence and possibility there always gives `
` psychologists new and more subtle puzzles to solve). On the part `
` of pious, or merely church-going people, there is seldom any idea `
` of HOW MUCH good-will, one might say arbitrary will, is now `
` necessary for a German scholar to take the problem of religion `
` seriously; his whole profession (and as I have said, his whole `
` workmanlike laboriousness, to which he is compelled by his modern `
` conscience) inclines him to a lofty and almost charitable `
` serenity as regards religion, with which is occasionally mingled `
` a slight disdain for the "uncleanliness" of spirit which he takes `
` for granted wherever any one still professes to belong to the `
` Church. It is only with the help of history (NOT through his own `
` personal experience, therefore) that the scholar succeeds in `
` bringing himself to a respectful seriousness, and to a certain `
` timid deference in presence of religions; but even when his `
` sentiments have reached the stage of gratitude towards them, he `
` has not personally advanced one step nearer to that which still `
` maintains itself as Church or as piety; perhaps even the `
` contrary. The practical indifference to religious matters in the `
` midst of which he has been born and brought up, usually `
` sublimates itself in his case into circumspection and `
` cleanliness, which shuns contact with religious men and things; `
` and it may be just the depth of his tolerance and humanity which `
` prompts him to avoid the delicate trouble which tolerance itself `
` brings with it.--Every age has its own divine type of naivete, `
` for the discovery of which other ages may envy it: and how much `
` naivete--adorable, childlike, and boundlessly foolish naivete is `
` involved in this belief of the scholar in his superiority, in the `
` good conscience of his tolerance, in the unsuspecting, simple `
` certainty with which his instinct treats the religious man as a `
` lower and less valuable type, beyond, before, and ABOVE which he `
` himself has developed--he, the little arrogant dwarf and mob-man, `
` the sedulously alert, head-and-hand drudge of "ideas," of "modern `
` ideas"! `
` `
` 59. Whoever has seen deeply into the world has doubtless divined `
` what wisdom there is in the fact that men are superficial. It is `
` their preservative instinct which teaches them to be flighty, `
` lightsome, and false. Here and there one finds a passionate and `
` exaggerated adoration of "pure forms" in philosophers as well as `
` in artists: it is not to be doubted that whoever has NEED of the `
` cult of the superficial to that extent, has at one time or `
` another made an unlucky dive BENEATH it. Perhaps there is even an `
` order of rank with respect to those burnt children, the born `
` artists who find the enjoyment of life only in trying to FALSIFY `
` its image (as if taking wearisome revenge on it), one might guess `
` to what degree life has disgusted them, by the extent to which `
` they wish to see its image falsified, attenuated, ultrified, and `
` deified,--one might reckon the homines religiosi among the `
` artists, as their HIGHEST rank. It is the profound, suspicious `
` fear of an incurable pessimism which compels whole centuries to `
` fasten their teeth into a religious interpretation of existence: `
` the fear of the instinct which divines that truth might be `
` attained TOO soon, before man has become strong enough, hard `
` enough, artist enough. . . . Piety, the "Life in God," regarded in `
` this light, would appear as the most elaborate and ultimate `
` product of the FEAR of truth, as artist-adoration and artist- `
` intoxication in presence of the most logical of all `
` falsifications, as the will to the inversion of truth, to untruth `
` at any price. Perhaps there has hitherto been no more effective `
` means of beautifying man than piety, by means of it man can `
` become so artful, so superficial, so iridescent, and so good, `
` that his appearance no longer offends. `
` `
` 60. To love mankind FOR GOD'S SAKE--this has so far been the `
` noblest and remotest sentiment to which mankind has attained. `
` That love to mankind, without any redeeming intention in the `
` background, is only an ADDITIONAL folly and brutishness, that the `
` inclination to this love has first to get its proportion, its `
` delicacy, its gram of salt and sprinkling of ambergris from a `
` higher inclination--whoever first perceived and "experienced" `
` this, however his tongue may have stammered as it attempted to `
` express such a delicate matter, let him for all time be holy and `
` respected, as the man who has so far flown highest and gone `
` astray in the finest fashion! `
` `
` 61. The philosopher, as WE free spirits understand him--as the `
` man of the greatest responsibility, who has the conscience for `
` the general development of mankind,--will use religion for his `
` disciplining and educating work, just as he will use the `
` contemporary political and economic conditions. The selecting and `
` disciplining influence--destructive, as well as creative and `
` fashioning--which can be exercised by means of religion is `
` manifold and varied, according to the sort of people placed under `
` its spell and protection. For those who are strong and `
` independent, destined and trained to command, in whom the `
` judgment and skill of a ruling race is incorporated, religion is `
` an additional means for overcoming resistance in the exercise of `
` authority--as a bond which binds rulers and subjects in common, `
` betraying and surrendering to the former the conscience of the `
` latter, their inmost heart, which would fain escape obedience. `
` And in the case of the unique natures of noble origin, if by `
` virtue of superior spirituality they should incline to a more `
` retired and contemplative life, reserving to themselves only the `
` more refined forms of government (over chosen disciples or `
` members of an order), religion itself may be used as a means for `
` obtaining peace from the noise and trouble of managing GROSSER `
`