Reading Help Beyond good and evil
rather, when people have lived long together under similar `
` conditions (of climate, soil, danger, requirement, toil) there `
` ORIGINATES therefrom an entity that "understands itself"--namely, `
` a nation. In all souls a like number of frequently recurring `
` experiences have gained the upper hand over those occurring more `
` rarely: about these matters people understand one another rapidly `
` and always more rapidly--the history of language is the history `
` of a process of abbreviation; on the basis of this quick `
` comprehension people always unite closer and closer. The greater `
` the danger, the greater is the need of agreeing quickly and `
` readily about what is necessary; not to misunderstand one another `
` in danger--that is what cannot at all be dispensed with in `
` intercourse. Also in all loves and friendships one has the `
` experience that nothing of the kind continues when the discovery `
` has been made that in using the same words, one of the two `
` parties has feelings, thoughts, intuitions, wishes, or fears `
` different from those of the other. (The fear of the "eternal `
` misunderstanding": that is the good genius which so often keeps `
` persons of different sexes from too hasty attachments, to which `
` sense and heart prompt them--and NOT some Schopenhauerian "genius `
` of the species"!) Whichever groups of sensations within a soul `
` awaken most readily, begin to speak, and give the word of `
` command--these decide as to the general order of rank of its `
` values, and determine ultimately its list of desirable things. A `
` man's estimates of value betray something of the STRUCTURE of his `
` soul, and wherein it sees its conditions of life, its intrinsic `
` needs. Supposing now that necessity has from all time drawn `
` together only such men as could express similar requirements and `
` similar experiences by similar symbols, it results on the whole `
` that the easy COMMUNICABILITY of need, which implies ultimately `
` the undergoing only of average and COMMON experiences, must have `
` been the most potent of all the forces which have hitherto `
` operated upon mankind. The more similar, the more ordinary `
` people, have always had and are still having the advantage; the `
` more select, more refined, more unique, and difficultly `
` comprehensible, are liable to stand alone; they succumb to `
` accidents in their isolation, and seldom propagate themselves. `
` One must appeal to immense opposing forces, in order to thwart `
` this natural, all-too-natural PROGRESSUS IN SIMILE, the evolution `
` of man to the similar, the ordinary, the average, the gregarious `
` --to the IGNOBLE!-- `
` `
` 269. The more a psychologist--a born, an unavoidable psychologist `
` and soul-diviner--turns his attention to the more select cases `
` and individuals, the greater is his danger of being suffocated by `
` sympathy: he NEEDS sternness and cheerfulness more than any other `
` man. For the corruption, the ruination of higher men, of the more `
` unusually constituted souls, is in fact, the rule: it is dreadful `
` to have such a rule always before one's eyes. The manifold `
` torment of the psychologist who has discovered this ruination, `
` who discovers once, and then discovers ALMOST repeatedly `
` throughout all history, this universal inner "desperateness" of `
` higher men, this eternal "too late!" in every sense--may perhaps `
` one day be the cause of his turning with bitterness against his `
` own lot, and of his making an attempt at self-destruction--of his `
` "going to ruin" himself. One may perceive in almost every `
` psychologist a tell-tale inclination for delightful intercourse `
` with commonplace and well-ordered men; the fact is thereby `
` disclosed that he always requires healing, that he needs a sort `
` of flight and forgetfulness, away from what his insight and `
` incisiveness--from what his "business"--has laid upon his `
` conscience. The fear of his memory is peculiar to him. He is `
` easily silenced by the judgment of others; he hears with unmoved `
` countenance how people honour, admire, love, and glorify, where `
` he has PERCEIVED--or he even conceals his silence by expressly `
` assenting to some plausible opinion. Perhaps the paradox of his `
` situation becomes so dreadful that, precisely where he has learnt `
` GREAT SYMPATHY, together with great CONTEMPT, the multitude, the `
` educated, and the visionaries, have on their part learnt great `
` reverence--reverence for "great men" and marvelous animals, for `
` the sake of whom one blesses and honours the fatherland, the `
` earth, the dignity of mankind, and one's own self, to whom one `
` points the young, and in view of whom one educates them. And who `
` knows but in all great instances hitherto just the same happened: `
` that the multitude worshipped a God, and that the "God" was only `
` a poor sacrificial animal! SUCCESS has always been the greatest `
` liar--and the "work" itself is a success; the great statesman, `
` the conqueror, the discoverer, are disguised in their creations `
` until they are unrecognizable; the "work" of the artist, of the `
` philosopher, only invents him who has created it, is REPUTED to `
` have created it; the "great men," as they are reverenced, are `
` poor little fictions composed afterwards; in the world of `
` historical values spurious coinage PREVAILS. Those great poets, `
` for example, such as Byron, Musset, Poe, Leopardi, Kleist, Gogol `
` (I do not venture to mention much greater names, but I have them `
` in my mind), as they now appear, and were perhaps obliged to be: `
` men of the moment, enthusiastic, sensuous, and childish, light- `
` minded and impulsive in their trust and distrust; with souls in `
` which usually some flaw has to be concealed; often taking revenge `
` with their works for an internal defilement, often seeking `
` forgetfulness in their soaring from a too true memory, often lost `
` in the mud and almost in love with it, until they become like the `
` Will-o'-the-Wisps around the swamps, and PRETEND TO BE stars--the `
` people then call them idealists,--often struggling with `
` protracted disgust, with an ever-reappearing phantom of `
` disbelief, which makes them cold, and obliges them to languish `
` for GLORIA and devour "faith as it is" out of the hands of `
` intoxicated adulators:--what a TORMENT these great artists are `
` and the so-called higher men in general, to him who has once `
` found them out! It is thus conceivable that it is just from `
` woman--who is clairvoyant in the world of suffering, and also `
` unfortunately eager to help and save to an extent far beyond her `
` powers--that THEY have learnt so readily those outbreaks of `
` boundless devoted SYMPATHY, which the multitude, above all the `
` reverent multitude, do not understand, and overwhelm with prying `
` and self-gratifying interpretations. This sympathizing invariably `
` deceives itself as to its power; woman would like to believe that `
` love can do EVERYTHING--it is the SUPERSTITION peculiar to her. `
` Alas, he who knows the heart finds out how poor, helpless, `
` pretentious, and blundering even the best and deepest love is--he `
` finds that it rather DESTROYS than saves!--It is possible that `
` under the holy fable and travesty of the life of Jesus there is `
` hidden one of the most painful cases of the martyrdom of `
` KNOWLEDGE ABOUT LOVE: the martyrdom of the most innocent and most `
` craving heart, that never had enough of any human love, that `
` DEMANDED love, that demanded inexorably and frantically to be `
` loved and nothing else, with terrible outbursts against those who `
` refused him their love; the story of a poor soul insatiated and `
` insatiable in love, that had to invent hell to send thither those `
` who WOULD NOT love him--and that at last, enlightened about human `
` love, had to invent a God who is entire love, entire CAPACITY for `
` love--who takes pity on human love, because it is so paltry, so `
` ignorant! He who has such sentiments, he who has such KNOWLEDGE `
` about love--SEEKS for death!--But why should one deal with such `
` painful matters? Provided, of course, that one is not obliged to `
` do so. `
` `
` 270. The intellectual haughtiness and loathing of every man who `
` has suffered deeply--it almost determines the order of rank HOW `
` deeply men can suffer--the chilling certainty, with which he is `
` thoroughly imbued and coloured, that by virtue of his suffering `
` he KNOWS MORE than the shrewdest and wisest can ever know, that `
` he has been familiar with, and "at home" in, many distant, `
` dreadful worlds of which "YOU know nothing"!--this silent `
` intellectual haughtiness of the sufferer, this pride of the elect `
` of knowledge, of the "initiated," of the almost sacrificed, finds `
` all forms of disguise necessary to protect itself from contact `
` with officious and sympathizing hands, and in general from all `
` that is not its equal in suffering. Profound suffering makes `
` noble: it separates.--One of the most refined forms of disguise `
` is Epicurism, along with a certain ostentatious boldness of `
` taste, which takes suffering lightly, and puts itself on the `
` defensive against all that is sorrowful and profound. They are `
` "gay men" who make use of gaiety, because they are misunderstood `
` on account of it--they WISH to be misunderstood. There are `
` "scientific minds" who make use of science, because it gives a `
` gay appearance, and because scientificness leads to the `
` conclusion that a person is superficial--they WISH to mislead to `
` a false conclusion. There are free insolent minds which would `
` fain conceal and deny that they are broken, proud, incurable `
` hearts (the cynicism of Hamlet--the case of Galiani); and `
` occasionally folly itself is the mask of an unfortunate OVER- `
` ASSURED knowledge.--From which it follows that it is the part of `
` a more refined humanity to have reverence "for the mask," and not `
` to make use of psychology and curiosity in the wrong place. `
` `
` 271. That which separates two men most profoundly is a different `
` sense and grade of purity. What does it matter about all their `
` honesty and reciprocal usefulness, what does it matter about all `
` their mutual good-will: the fact still remains--they "cannot `
` smell each other!" The highest instinct for purity places him who `
` is affected with it in the most extraordinary and dangerous `
` isolation, as a saint: for it is just holiness--the highest `
` spiritualization of the instinct in question. Any kind of `
` cognizance of an indescribable excess in the joy of the bath, any `
` kind of ardour or thirst which perpetually impels the soul out of `
` night into the morning, and out of gloom, out of "affliction" `
` into clearness, brightness, depth, and refinement:--just as much `
` as such a tendency DISTINGUISHES--it is a noble tendency--it also `
` SEPARATES.--The pity of the saint is pity for the FILTH of the `
` human, all-too-human. And there are grades and heights where pity `
` itself is regarded by him as impurity, as filth. `
` `
` 272. Signs of nobility: never to think of lowering our duties to `
` the rank of duties for everybody; to be unwilling to renounce or `
` to share our responsibilities; to count our prerogatives, and the `
` exercise of them, among our DUTIES. `
` `
` 273. A man who strives after great things, looks upon every one `
` whom he encounters on his way either as a means of advance, or a `
` delay and hindrance--or as a temporary resting-place. His `
` peculiar lofty BOUNTY to his fellow-men is only possible when he `
` attains his elevation and dominates. Impatience, and the `
` consciousness of being always condemned to comedy up to that `
` time--for even strife is a comedy, and conceals the end, as every `
` means does--spoil all intercourse for him; this kind of man is `
` acquainted with solitude, and what is most poisonous in it. `
` `
` 274. THE PROBLEM OF THOSE WHO WAIT.--Happy chances are necessary, `
` and many incalculable elements, in order that a higher man in `
` whom the solution of a problem is dormant, may yet take action, `
` or "break forth," as one might say--at the right moment. On an `
` average it DOES NOT happen; and in all corners of the earth there `
` are waiting ones sitting who hardly know to what extent they are `
` waiting, and still less that they wait in vain. Occasionally, `
` too, the waking call comes too late--the chance which gives `
` "permission" to take action--when their best youth, and strength `
` for action have been used up in sitting still; and how many a `
` one, just as he "sprang up," has found with horror that his limbs `
` are benumbed and his spirits are now too heavy! "It is too late," `
` he has said to himself--and has become self-distrustful and `
`
` conditions (of climate, soil, danger, requirement, toil) there `
` ORIGINATES therefrom an entity that "understands itself"--namely, `
` a nation. In all souls a like number of frequently recurring `
` experiences have gained the upper hand over those occurring more `
` rarely: about these matters people understand one another rapidly `
` and always more rapidly--the history of language is the history `
` of a process of abbreviation; on the basis of this quick `
` comprehension people always unite closer and closer. The greater `
` the danger, the greater is the need of agreeing quickly and `
` readily about what is necessary; not to misunderstand one another `
` in danger--that is what cannot at all be dispensed with in `
` intercourse. Also in all loves and friendships one has the `
` experience that nothing of the kind continues when the discovery `
` has been made that in using the same words, one of the two `
` parties has feelings, thoughts, intuitions, wishes, or fears `
` different from those of the other. (The fear of the "eternal `
` misunderstanding": that is the good genius which so often keeps `
` persons of different sexes from too hasty attachments, to which `
` sense and heart prompt them--and NOT some Schopenhauerian "genius `
` of the species"!) Whichever groups of sensations within a soul `
` awaken most readily, begin to speak, and give the word of `
` command--these decide as to the general order of rank of its `
` values, and determine ultimately its list of desirable things. A `
` man's estimates of value betray something of the STRUCTURE of his `
` soul, and wherein it sees its conditions of life, its intrinsic `
` needs. Supposing now that necessity has from all time drawn `
` together only such men as could express similar requirements and `
` similar experiences by similar symbols, it results on the whole `
` that the easy COMMUNICABILITY of need, which implies ultimately `
` the undergoing only of average and COMMON experiences, must have `
` been the most potent of all the forces which have hitherto `
` operated upon mankind. The more similar, the more ordinary `
` people, have always had and are still having the advantage; the `
` more select, more refined, more unique, and difficultly `
` comprehensible, are liable to stand alone; they succumb to `
` accidents in their isolation, and seldom propagate themselves. `
` One must appeal to immense opposing forces, in order to thwart `
` this natural, all-too-natural PROGRESSUS IN SIMILE, the evolution `
` of man to the similar, the ordinary, the average, the gregarious `
` --to the IGNOBLE!-- `
` `
` 269. The more a psychologist--a born, an unavoidable psychologist `
` and soul-diviner--turns his attention to the more select cases `
` and individuals, the greater is his danger of being suffocated by `
` sympathy: he NEEDS sternness and cheerfulness more than any other `
` man. For the corruption, the ruination of higher men, of the more `
` unusually constituted souls, is in fact, the rule: it is dreadful `
` to have such a rule always before one's eyes. The manifold `
` torment of the psychologist who has discovered this ruination, `
` who discovers once, and then discovers ALMOST repeatedly `
` throughout all history, this universal inner "desperateness" of `
` higher men, this eternal "too late!" in every sense--may perhaps `
` one day be the cause of his turning with bitterness against his `
` own lot, and of his making an attempt at self-destruction--of his `
` "going to ruin" himself. One may perceive in almost every `
` psychologist a tell-tale inclination for delightful intercourse `
` with commonplace and well-ordered men; the fact is thereby `
` disclosed that he always requires healing, that he needs a sort `
` of flight and forgetfulness, away from what his insight and `
` incisiveness--from what his "business"--has laid upon his `
` conscience. The fear of his memory is peculiar to him. He is `
` easily silenced by the judgment of others; he hears with unmoved `
` countenance how people honour, admire, love, and glorify, where `
` he has PERCEIVED--or he even conceals his silence by expressly `
` assenting to some plausible opinion. Perhaps the paradox of his `
` situation becomes so dreadful that, precisely where he has learnt `
` GREAT SYMPATHY, together with great CONTEMPT, the multitude, the `
` educated, and the visionaries, have on their part learnt great `
` reverence--reverence for "great men" and marvelous animals, for `
` the sake of whom one blesses and honours the fatherland, the `
` earth, the dignity of mankind, and one's own self, to whom one `
` points the young, and in view of whom one educates them. And who `
` knows but in all great instances hitherto just the same happened: `
` that the multitude worshipped a God, and that the "God" was only `
` a poor sacrificial animal! SUCCESS has always been the greatest `
` liar--and the "work" itself is a success; the great statesman, `
` the conqueror, the discoverer, are disguised in their creations `
` until they are unrecognizable; the "work" of the artist, of the `
` philosopher, only invents him who has created it, is REPUTED to `
` have created it; the "great men," as they are reverenced, are `
` poor little fictions composed afterwards; in the world of `
` historical values spurious coinage PREVAILS. Those great poets, `
` for example, such as Byron, Musset, Poe, Leopardi, Kleist, Gogol `
` (I do not venture to mention much greater names, but I have them `
` in my mind), as they now appear, and were perhaps obliged to be: `
` men of the moment, enthusiastic, sensuous, and childish, light- `
` minded and impulsive in their trust and distrust; with souls in `
` which usually some flaw has to be concealed; often taking revenge `
` with their works for an internal defilement, often seeking `
` forgetfulness in their soaring from a too true memory, often lost `
` in the mud and almost in love with it, until they become like the `
` Will-o'-the-Wisps around the swamps, and PRETEND TO BE stars--the `
` people then call them idealists,--often struggling with `
` protracted disgust, with an ever-reappearing phantom of `
` disbelief, which makes them cold, and obliges them to languish `
` for GLORIA and devour "faith as it is" out of the hands of `
` intoxicated adulators:--what a TORMENT these great artists are `
` and the so-called higher men in general, to him who has once `
` found them out! It is thus conceivable that it is just from `
` woman--who is clairvoyant in the world of suffering, and also `
` unfortunately eager to help and save to an extent far beyond her `
` powers--that THEY have learnt so readily those outbreaks of `
` boundless devoted SYMPATHY, which the multitude, above all the `
` reverent multitude, do not understand, and overwhelm with prying `
` and self-gratifying interpretations. This sympathizing invariably `
` deceives itself as to its power; woman would like to believe that `
` love can do EVERYTHING--it is the SUPERSTITION peculiar to her. `
` Alas, he who knows the heart finds out how poor, helpless, `
` pretentious, and blundering even the best and deepest love is--he `
` finds that it rather DESTROYS than saves!--It is possible that `
` under the holy fable and travesty of the life of Jesus there is `
` hidden one of the most painful cases of the martyrdom of `
` KNOWLEDGE ABOUT LOVE: the martyrdom of the most innocent and most `
` craving heart, that never had enough of any human love, that `
` DEMANDED love, that demanded inexorably and frantically to be `
` loved and nothing else, with terrible outbursts against those who `
` refused him their love; the story of a poor soul insatiated and `
` insatiable in love, that had to invent hell to send thither those `
` who WOULD NOT love him--and that at last, enlightened about human `
` love, had to invent a God who is entire love, entire CAPACITY for `
` love--who takes pity on human love, because it is so paltry, so `
` ignorant! He who has such sentiments, he who has such KNOWLEDGE `
` about love--SEEKS for death!--But why should one deal with such `
` painful matters? Provided, of course, that one is not obliged to `
` do so. `
` `
` 270. The intellectual haughtiness and loathing of every man who `
` has suffered deeply--it almost determines the order of rank HOW `
` deeply men can suffer--the chilling certainty, with which he is `
` thoroughly imbued and coloured, that by virtue of his suffering `
` he KNOWS MORE than the shrewdest and wisest can ever know, that `
` he has been familiar with, and "at home" in, many distant, `
` dreadful worlds of which "YOU know nothing"!--this silent `
` intellectual haughtiness of the sufferer, this pride of the elect `
` of knowledge, of the "initiated," of the almost sacrificed, finds `
` all forms of disguise necessary to protect itself from contact `
` with officious and sympathizing hands, and in general from all `
` that is not its equal in suffering. Profound suffering makes `
` noble: it separates.--One of the most refined forms of disguise `
` is Epicurism, along with a certain ostentatious boldness of `
` taste, which takes suffering lightly, and puts itself on the `
` defensive against all that is sorrowful and profound. They are `
` "gay men" who make use of gaiety, because they are misunderstood `
` on account of it--they WISH to be misunderstood. There are `
` "scientific minds" who make use of science, because it gives a `
` gay appearance, and because scientificness leads to the `
` conclusion that a person is superficial--they WISH to mislead to `
` a false conclusion. There are free insolent minds which would `
` fain conceal and deny that they are broken, proud, incurable `
` hearts (the cynicism of Hamlet--the case of Galiani); and `
` occasionally folly itself is the mask of an unfortunate OVER- `
` ASSURED knowledge.--From which it follows that it is the part of `
` a more refined humanity to have reverence "for the mask," and not `
` to make use of psychology and curiosity in the wrong place. `
` `
` 271. That which separates two men most profoundly is a different `
` sense and grade of purity. What does it matter about all their `
` honesty and reciprocal usefulness, what does it matter about all `
` their mutual good-will: the fact still remains--they "cannot `
` smell each other!" The highest instinct for purity places him who `
` is affected with it in the most extraordinary and dangerous `
` isolation, as a saint: for it is just holiness--the highest `
` spiritualization of the instinct in question. Any kind of `
` cognizance of an indescribable excess in the joy of the bath, any `
` kind of ardour or thirst which perpetually impels the soul out of `
` night into the morning, and out of gloom, out of "affliction" `
` into clearness, brightness, depth, and refinement:--just as much `
` as such a tendency DISTINGUISHES--it is a noble tendency--it also `
` SEPARATES.--The pity of the saint is pity for the FILTH of the `
` human, all-too-human. And there are grades and heights where pity `
` itself is regarded by him as impurity, as filth. `
` `
` 272. Signs of nobility: never to think of lowering our duties to `
` the rank of duties for everybody; to be unwilling to renounce or `
` to share our responsibilities; to count our prerogatives, and the `
` exercise of them, among our DUTIES. `
` `
` 273. A man who strives after great things, looks upon every one `
` whom he encounters on his way either as a means of advance, or a `
` delay and hindrance--or as a temporary resting-place. His `
` peculiar lofty BOUNTY to his fellow-men is only possible when he `
` attains his elevation and dominates. Impatience, and the `
` consciousness of being always condemned to comedy up to that `
` time--for even strife is a comedy, and conceals the end, as every `
` means does--spoil all intercourse for him; this kind of man is `
` acquainted with solitude, and what is most poisonous in it. `
` `
` 274. THE PROBLEM OF THOSE WHO WAIT.--Happy chances are necessary, `
` and many incalculable elements, in order that a higher man in `
` whom the solution of a problem is dormant, may yet take action, `
` or "break forth," as one might say--at the right moment. On an `
` average it DOES NOT happen; and in all corners of the earth there `
` are waiting ones sitting who hardly know to what extent they are `
` waiting, and still less that they wait in vain. Occasionally, `
` too, the waking call comes too late--the chance which gives `
` "permission" to take action--when their best youth, and strength `
` for action have been used up in sitting still; and how many a `
` one, just as he "sprang up," has found with horror that his limbs `
` are benumbed and his spirits are now too heavy! "It is too late," `
` he has said to himself--and has become self-distrustful and `
`