Reading Help Beyond good and evil
one speaks "badly"--and not even "ill"--of man, then ought the `
` lover of knowledge to hearken attentively and diligently; he `
` ought, in general, to have an open ear wherever there is talk `
` without indignation. For the indignant man, and he who `
` perpetually tears and lacerates himself with his own teeth (or, `
` in place of himself, the world, God, or society), may indeed, `
` morally speaking, stand higher than the laughing and self- `
` satisfied satyr, but in every other sense he is the more `
` ordinary, more indifferent, and less instructive case. And no one `
` is such a LIAR as the indignant man. `
` `
` 27. It is difficult to be understood, especially when one thinks `
` and lives gangasrotogati [Footnote: Like the river Ganges: `
` presto.] among those only who think and live otherwise--namely, `
` kurmagati [Footnote: Like the tortoise: lento.], or at best `
` "froglike," mandeikagati [Footnote: Like the frog: staccato.] (I `
` do everything to be "difficultly understood" myself!)--and one `
` should be heartily grateful for the good will to some refinement `
` of interpretation. As regards "the good friends," however, who `
` are always too easy-going, and think that as friends they have a `
` right to ease, one does well at the very first to grant them a `
` play-ground and romping-place for misunderstanding--one can thus `
` laugh still; or get rid of them altogether, these good friends-- `
` and laugh then also! `
` `
` 28. What is most difficult to render from one language into `
` another is the TEMPO of its style, which has its basis in the `
` character of the race, or to speak more physiologically, in the `
` average TEMPO of the assimilation of its nutriment. There are `
` honestly meant translations, which, as involuntary `
` vulgarizations, are almost falsifications of the original, merely `
` because its lively and merry TEMPO (which overleaps and obviates `
` all dangers in word and expression) could not also be rendered. A `
` German is almost incapacitated for PRESTO in his language; `
` consequently also, as may be reasonably inferred, for many of the `
` most delightful and daring NUANCES of free, free-spirited `
` thought. And just as the buffoon and satyr are foreign to him in `
` body and conscience, so Aristophanes and Petronius are `
` untranslatable for him. Everything ponderous, viscous, and `
` pompously clumsy, all long-winded and wearying species of style, `
` are developed in profuse variety among Germans--pardon me for `
` stating the fact that even Goethe's prose, in its mixture of `
` stiffness and elegance, is no exception, as a reflection of the `
` "good old time" to which it belongs, and as an expression of `
` German taste at a time when there was still a "German taste," `
` which was a rococo-taste in moribus et artibus. Lessing is an `
` exception, owing to his histrionic nature, which understood much, `
` and was versed in many things; he who was not the translator of `
` Bayle to no purpose, who took refuge willingly in the shadow of `
` Diderot and Voltaire, and still more willingly among the Roman `
` comedy-writers--Lessing loved also free-spiritism in the TEMPO, `
` and flight out of Germany. But how could the German language, `
` even in the prose of Lessing, imitate the TEMPO of Machiavelli, `
` who in his "Principe" makes us breathe the dry, fine air of `
` Florence, and cannot help presenting the most serious events in a `
` boisterous allegrissimo, perhaps not without a malicious artistic `
` sense of the contrast he ventures to present--long, heavy, `
` difficult, dangerous thoughts, and a TEMPO of the gallop, and of `
` the best, wantonest humour? Finally, who would venture on a `
` German translation of Petronius, who, more than any great `
` musician hitherto, was a master of PRESTO in invention, ideas, `
` and words? What matter in the end about the swamps of the sick, `
` evil world, or of the "ancient world," when like him, one has the `
` feet of a wind, the rush, the breath, the emancipating scorn of a `
` wind, which makes everything healthy, by making everything RUN! `
` And with regard to Aristophanes--that transfiguring, `
` complementary genius, for whose sake one PARDONS all Hellenism `
` for having existed, provided one has understood in its full `
` profundity ALL that there requires pardon and transfiguration; `
` there is nothing that has caused me to meditate more on PLATO'S `
` secrecy and sphinx-like nature, than the happily preserved petit `
` fait that under the pillow of his death-bed there was found no `
` "Bible," nor anything Egyptian, Pythagorean, or Platonic--but a `
` book of Aristophanes. How could even Plato have endured life--a `
` Greek life which he repudiated--without an Aristophanes! `
` `
` 29. It is the business of the very few to be independent; it is a `
` privilege of the strong. And whoever attempts it, even with the `
` best right, but without being OBLIGED to do so, proves that he is `
` probably not only strong, but also daring beyond measure. He `
` enters into a labyrinth, he multiplies a thousandfold the dangers `
` which life in itself already brings with it; not the least of `
` which is that no one can see how and where he loses his way, `
` becomes isolated, and is torn piecemeal by some minotaur of `
` conscience. Supposing such a one comes to grief, it is so far `
` from the comprehension of men that they neither feel it, nor `
` sympathize with it. And he cannot any longer go back! He cannot `
` even go back again to the sympathy of men! `
` `
` 30. Our deepest insights must--and should--appear as follies, and `
` under certain circumstances as crimes, when they come `
` unauthorizedly to the ears of those who are not disposed and `
` predestined for them. The exoteric and the esoteric, as they were `
` formerly distinguished by philosophers--among the Indians, as `
` among the Greeks, Persians, and Mussulmans, in short, wherever `
` people believed in gradations of rank and NOT in equality and `
` equal rights--are not so much in contradistinction to one another `
` in respect to the exoteric class, standing without, and viewing, `
` estimating, measuring, and judging from the outside, and not from `
` the inside; the more essential distinction is that the class in `
` question views things from below upwards--while the esoteric `
` class views things FROM ABOVE DOWNWARDS. There are heights of the `
` soul from which tragedy itself no longer appears to operate `
` tragically; and if all the woe in the world were taken together, `
` who would dare to decide whether the sight of it would `
` NECESSARILY seduce and constrain to sympathy, and thus to a `
` doubling of the woe? . . . That which serves the higher class of `
` men for nourishment or refreshment, must be almost poison to an `
` entirely different and lower order of human beings. The virtues `
` of the common man would perhaps mean vice and weakness in a `
` philosopher; it might be possible for a highly developed man, `
` supposing him to degenerate and go to ruin, to acquire qualities `
` thereby alone, for the sake of which he would have to be honoured `
` as a saint in the lower world into which he had sunk. There are `
` books which have an inverse value for the soul and the health `
` according as the inferior soul and the lower vitality, or the `
` higher and more powerful, make use of them. In the former case `
` they are dangerous, disturbing, unsettling books, in the latter `
` case they are herald-calls which summon the bravest to THEIR `
` bravery. Books for the general reader are always ill-smelling `
` books, the odour of paltry people clings to them. Where the `
` populace eat and drink, and even where they reverence, it is `
` accustomed to stink. One should not go into churches if one `
` wishes to breathe PURE air. `
` `
` 31. In our youthful years we still venerate and despise without `
` the art of NUANCE, which is the best gain of life, and we have `
` rightly to do hard penance for having fallen upon men and things `
` with Yea and Nay. Everything is so arranged that the worst of all `
` tastes, THE TASTE FOR THE UNCONDITIONAL, is cruelly befooled and `
` abused, until a man learns to introduce a little art into his `
` sentiments, and prefers to try conclusions with the artificial, `
` as do the real artists of life. The angry and reverent spirit `
` peculiar to youth appears to allow itself no peace, until it has `
` suitably falsified men and things, to be able to vent its passion `
` upon them: youth in itself even, is something falsifying and `
` deceptive. Later on, when the young soul, tortured by continual `
` disillusions, finally turns suspiciously against itself--still `
` ardent and savage even in its suspicion and remorse of `
` conscience: how it upbraids itself, how impatiently it tears `
` itself, how it revenges itself for its long self-blinding, as `
` though it had been a voluntary blindness! In this transition one `
` punishes oneself by distrust of one's sentiments; one tortures `
` one's enthusiasm with doubt, one feels even the good conscience `
` to be a danger, as if it were the self-concealment and lassitude `
` of a more refined uprightness; and above all, one espouses upon `
` principle the cause AGAINST "youth."--A decade later, and one `
` comprehends that all this was also still--youth! `
` `
` 32. Throughout the longest period of human history--one calls it `
` the prehistoric period--the value or non-value of an action was `
` inferred from its CONSEQUENCES; the action in itself was not `
` taken into consideration, any more than its origin; but pretty `
` much as in China at present, where the distinction or disgrace of `
` a child redounds to its parents, the retro-operating power of `
` success or failure was what induced men to think well or ill of `
` an action. Let us call this period the PRE-MORAL period of `
` mankind; the imperative, "Know thyself!" was then still unknown. `
` --In the last ten thousand years, on the other hand, on certain `
` large portions of the earth, one has gradually got so far, that `
` one no longer lets the consequences of an action, but its origin, `
` decide with regard to its worth: a great achievement as a whole, `
` an important refinement of vision and of criterion, the `
` unconscious effect of the supremacy of aristocratic values and of `
` the belief in "origin," the mark of a period which may be `
` designated in the narrower sense as the MORAL one: the first `
` attempt at self-knowledge is thereby made. Instead of the `
` consequences, the origin--what an inversion of perspective! And `
` assuredly an inversion effected only after long struggle and `
` wavering! To be sure, an ominous new superstition, a peculiar `
` narrowness of interpretation, attained supremacy precisely `
` thereby: the origin of an action was interpreted in the most `
` definite sense possible, as origin out of an INTENTION; people `
` were agreed in the belief that the value of an action lay in the `
` value of its intention. The intention as the sole origin and `
` antecedent history of an action: under the influence of this `
` prejudice moral praise and blame have been bestowed, and men have `
` judged and even philosophized almost up to the present day.--Is `
` it not possible, however, that the necessity may now have arisen `
` of again making up our minds with regard to the reversing and `
` fundamental shifting of values, owing to a new self-consciousness `
` and acuteness in man--is it not possible that we may be standing `
` on the threshold of a period which to begin with, would be `
` distinguished negatively as ULTRA-MORAL: nowadays when, at least `
` among us immoralists, the suspicion arises that the decisive `
` value of an action lies precisely in that which is NOT `
` INTENTIONAL, and that all its intentionalness, all that is seen, `
` sensible, or "sensed" in it, belongs to its surface or skin-- `
` which, like every skin, betrays something, but CONCEALS still `
` more? In short, we believe that the intention is only a sign or `
` symptom, which first requires an explanation--a sign, moreover, `
` which has too many interpretations, and consequently hardly any `
` meaning in itself alone: that morality, in the sense in which it `
` has been understood hitherto, as intention-morality, has been a `
` prejudice, perhaps a prematureness or preliminariness, probably `
` something of the same rank as astrology and alchemy, but in any `
` case something which must be surmounted. The surmounting of `
` morality, in a certain sense even the self-mounting of morality-- `
` let that be the name for the long-secret labour which has been `
` reserved for the most refined, the most upright, and also the `
` most wicked consciences of today, as the living touchstones of `
`
` lover of knowledge to hearken attentively and diligently; he `
` ought, in general, to have an open ear wherever there is talk `
` without indignation. For the indignant man, and he who `
` perpetually tears and lacerates himself with his own teeth (or, `
` in place of himself, the world, God, or society), may indeed, `
` morally speaking, stand higher than the laughing and self- `
` satisfied satyr, but in every other sense he is the more `
` ordinary, more indifferent, and less instructive case. And no one `
` is such a LIAR as the indignant man. `
` `
` 27. It is difficult to be understood, especially when one thinks `
` and lives gangasrotogati [Footnote: Like the river Ganges: `
` presto.] among those only who think and live otherwise--namely, `
` kurmagati [Footnote: Like the tortoise: lento.], or at best `
` "froglike," mandeikagati [Footnote: Like the frog: staccato.] (I `
` do everything to be "difficultly understood" myself!)--and one `
` should be heartily grateful for the good will to some refinement `
` of interpretation. As regards "the good friends," however, who `
` are always too easy-going, and think that as friends they have a `
` right to ease, one does well at the very first to grant them a `
` play-ground and romping-place for misunderstanding--one can thus `
` laugh still; or get rid of them altogether, these good friends-- `
` and laugh then also! `
` `
` 28. What is most difficult to render from one language into `
` another is the TEMPO of its style, which has its basis in the `
` character of the race, or to speak more physiologically, in the `
` average TEMPO of the assimilation of its nutriment. There are `
` honestly meant translations, which, as involuntary `
` vulgarizations, are almost falsifications of the original, merely `
` because its lively and merry TEMPO (which overleaps and obviates `
` all dangers in word and expression) could not also be rendered. A `
` German is almost incapacitated for PRESTO in his language; `
` consequently also, as may be reasonably inferred, for many of the `
` most delightful and daring NUANCES of free, free-spirited `
` thought. And just as the buffoon and satyr are foreign to him in `
` body and conscience, so Aristophanes and Petronius are `
` untranslatable for him. Everything ponderous, viscous, and `
` pompously clumsy, all long-winded and wearying species of style, `
` are developed in profuse variety among Germans--pardon me for `
` stating the fact that even Goethe's prose, in its mixture of `
` stiffness and elegance, is no exception, as a reflection of the `
` "good old time" to which it belongs, and as an expression of `
` German taste at a time when there was still a "German taste," `
` which was a rococo-taste in moribus et artibus. Lessing is an `
` exception, owing to his histrionic nature, which understood much, `
` and was versed in many things; he who was not the translator of `
` Bayle to no purpose, who took refuge willingly in the shadow of `
` Diderot and Voltaire, and still more willingly among the Roman `
` comedy-writers--Lessing loved also free-spiritism in the TEMPO, `
` and flight out of Germany. But how could the German language, `
` even in the prose of Lessing, imitate the TEMPO of Machiavelli, `
` who in his "Principe" makes us breathe the dry, fine air of `
` Florence, and cannot help presenting the most serious events in a `
` boisterous allegrissimo, perhaps not without a malicious artistic `
` sense of the contrast he ventures to present--long, heavy, `
` difficult, dangerous thoughts, and a TEMPO of the gallop, and of `
` the best, wantonest humour? Finally, who would venture on a `
` German translation of Petronius, who, more than any great `
` musician hitherto, was a master of PRESTO in invention, ideas, `
` and words? What matter in the end about the swamps of the sick, `
` evil world, or of the "ancient world," when like him, one has the `
` feet of a wind, the rush, the breath, the emancipating scorn of a `
` wind, which makes everything healthy, by making everything RUN! `
` And with regard to Aristophanes--that transfiguring, `
` complementary genius, for whose sake one PARDONS all Hellenism `
` for having existed, provided one has understood in its full `
` profundity ALL that there requires pardon and transfiguration; `
` there is nothing that has caused me to meditate more on PLATO'S `
` secrecy and sphinx-like nature, than the happily preserved petit `
` fait that under the pillow of his death-bed there was found no `
` "Bible," nor anything Egyptian, Pythagorean, or Platonic--but a `
` book of Aristophanes. How could even Plato have endured life--a `
` Greek life which he repudiated--without an Aristophanes! `
` `
` 29. It is the business of the very few to be independent; it is a `
` privilege of the strong. And whoever attempts it, even with the `
` best right, but without being OBLIGED to do so, proves that he is `
` probably not only strong, but also daring beyond measure. He `
` enters into a labyrinth, he multiplies a thousandfold the dangers `
` which life in itself already brings with it; not the least of `
` which is that no one can see how and where he loses his way, `
` becomes isolated, and is torn piecemeal by some minotaur of `
` conscience. Supposing such a one comes to grief, it is so far `
` from the comprehension of men that they neither feel it, nor `
` sympathize with it. And he cannot any longer go back! He cannot `
` even go back again to the sympathy of men! `
` `
` 30. Our deepest insights must--and should--appear as follies, and `
` under certain circumstances as crimes, when they come `
` unauthorizedly to the ears of those who are not disposed and `
` predestined for them. The exoteric and the esoteric, as they were `
` formerly distinguished by philosophers--among the Indians, as `
` among the Greeks, Persians, and Mussulmans, in short, wherever `
` people believed in gradations of rank and NOT in equality and `
` equal rights--are not so much in contradistinction to one another `
` in respect to the exoteric class, standing without, and viewing, `
` estimating, measuring, and judging from the outside, and not from `
` the inside; the more essential distinction is that the class in `
` question views things from below upwards--while the esoteric `
` class views things FROM ABOVE DOWNWARDS. There are heights of the `
` soul from which tragedy itself no longer appears to operate `
` tragically; and if all the woe in the world were taken together, `
` who would dare to decide whether the sight of it would `
` NECESSARILY seduce and constrain to sympathy, and thus to a `
` doubling of the woe? . . . That which serves the higher class of `
` men for nourishment or refreshment, must be almost poison to an `
` entirely different and lower order of human beings. The virtues `
` of the common man would perhaps mean vice and weakness in a `
` philosopher; it might be possible for a highly developed man, `
` supposing him to degenerate and go to ruin, to acquire qualities `
` thereby alone, for the sake of which he would have to be honoured `
` as a saint in the lower world into which he had sunk. There are `
` books which have an inverse value for the soul and the health `
` according as the inferior soul and the lower vitality, or the `
` higher and more powerful, make use of them. In the former case `
` they are dangerous, disturbing, unsettling books, in the latter `
` case they are herald-calls which summon the bravest to THEIR `
` bravery. Books for the general reader are always ill-smelling `
` books, the odour of paltry people clings to them. Where the `
` populace eat and drink, and even where they reverence, it is `
` accustomed to stink. One should not go into churches if one `
` wishes to breathe PURE air. `
` `
` 31. In our youthful years we still venerate and despise without `
` the art of NUANCE, which is the best gain of life, and we have `
` rightly to do hard penance for having fallen upon men and things `
` with Yea and Nay. Everything is so arranged that the worst of all `
` tastes, THE TASTE FOR THE UNCONDITIONAL, is cruelly befooled and `
` abused, until a man learns to introduce a little art into his `
` sentiments, and prefers to try conclusions with the artificial, `
` as do the real artists of life. The angry and reverent spirit `
` peculiar to youth appears to allow itself no peace, until it has `
` suitably falsified men and things, to be able to vent its passion `
` upon them: youth in itself even, is something falsifying and `
` deceptive. Later on, when the young soul, tortured by continual `
` disillusions, finally turns suspiciously against itself--still `
` ardent and savage even in its suspicion and remorse of `
` conscience: how it upbraids itself, how impatiently it tears `
` itself, how it revenges itself for its long self-blinding, as `
` though it had been a voluntary blindness! In this transition one `
` punishes oneself by distrust of one's sentiments; one tortures `
` one's enthusiasm with doubt, one feels even the good conscience `
` to be a danger, as if it were the self-concealment and lassitude `
` of a more refined uprightness; and above all, one espouses upon `
` principle the cause AGAINST "youth."--A decade later, and one `
` comprehends that all this was also still--youth! `
` `
` 32. Throughout the longest period of human history--one calls it `
` the prehistoric period--the value or non-value of an action was `
` inferred from its CONSEQUENCES; the action in itself was not `
` taken into consideration, any more than its origin; but pretty `
` much as in China at present, where the distinction or disgrace of `
` a child redounds to its parents, the retro-operating power of `
` success or failure was what induced men to think well or ill of `
` an action. Let us call this period the PRE-MORAL period of `
` mankind; the imperative, "Know thyself!" was then still unknown. `
` --In the last ten thousand years, on the other hand, on certain `
` large portions of the earth, one has gradually got so far, that `
` one no longer lets the consequences of an action, but its origin, `
` decide with regard to its worth: a great achievement as a whole, `
` an important refinement of vision and of criterion, the `
` unconscious effect of the supremacy of aristocratic values and of `
` the belief in "origin," the mark of a period which may be `
` designated in the narrower sense as the MORAL one: the first `
` attempt at self-knowledge is thereby made. Instead of the `
` consequences, the origin--what an inversion of perspective! And `
` assuredly an inversion effected only after long struggle and `
` wavering! To be sure, an ominous new superstition, a peculiar `
` narrowness of interpretation, attained supremacy precisely `
` thereby: the origin of an action was interpreted in the most `
` definite sense possible, as origin out of an INTENTION; people `
` were agreed in the belief that the value of an action lay in the `
` value of its intention. The intention as the sole origin and `
` antecedent history of an action: under the influence of this `
` prejudice moral praise and blame have been bestowed, and men have `
` judged and even philosophized almost up to the present day.--Is `
` it not possible, however, that the necessity may now have arisen `
` of again making up our minds with regard to the reversing and `
` fundamental shifting of values, owing to a new self-consciousness `
` and acuteness in man--is it not possible that we may be standing `
` on the threshold of a period which to begin with, would be `
` distinguished negatively as ULTRA-MORAL: nowadays when, at least `
` among us immoralists, the suspicion arises that the decisive `
` value of an action lies precisely in that which is NOT `
` INTENTIONAL, and that all its intentionalness, all that is seen, `
` sensible, or "sensed" in it, belongs to its surface or skin-- `
` which, like every skin, betrays something, but CONCEALS still `
` more? In short, we believe that the intention is only a sign or `
` symptom, which first requires an explanation--a sign, moreover, `
` which has too many interpretations, and consequently hardly any `
` meaning in itself alone: that morality, in the sense in which it `
` has been understood hitherto, as intention-morality, has been a `
` prejudice, perhaps a prematureness or preliminariness, probably `
` something of the same rank as astrology and alchemy, but in any `
` case something which must be surmounted. The surmounting of `
` morality, in a certain sense even the self-mounting of morality-- `
` let that be the name for the long-secret labour which has been `
` reserved for the most refined, the most upright, and also the `
` most wicked consciences of today, as the living touchstones of `
`