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Friedrich Nietzsche,
Beyond Good and Evil
Friedrich Nietzsche was born in Röcken, Prussia, in 1844. Aftergraduating from the Lutheran boarding school at Pforta in 1864, heenrolled in the University of Bonn to study theology. There he beganto doubt his Christian faith (he eventually became an atheist andharsh critic of Christianity) and in 1865 transferred to the Universityof Leipzip to study classical philology (Greek and Latin language andliterature) and music. He was recognized as a brilliant student ofphilology, and at the age of twenty-four, before he had even finishedhis doctorate, he was offered the chair of classical philology at theUniversity^ of^ Basel^
in^ Switzerland.^ The^
University^ of^ Leipzig quickly granted his degree, and Nietzsche assumed the professorshipat Basel in 1869. Ten years later, because of his increasingly badhealth, Nietzsche resigned his position. For the next ten years, half
blind and in unremitting pain, he wandered through Switzerland,Germany, and Italy in search of a cure. His mental health began todeteriorate as well; in 1889 he collapsed on the streets of Turin, Italy,completely insane. He died in Weimar in 1900. Nietzsche’s principal works are
The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music^ (1872),^ Human, All Too Human
(1878),^ The Gay Science (1882),^ Thus Spoke Zarathustra
(1883-85),^ Beyond Good and Evil (1886), and^ On the Genealogy of Morals
Our selection is from^
Beyond Good and Evil
, a book consisting of about three hundred aphorisms on various subjects.
Ch. 9: What is Noble? 257.^ Every^ elevation of the type “man,” has hitherto been the workof an aristocratic society—and so it will always be—a society be-lieving in a long scale of gradations of rank and differences ofworth among human beings, and requiring slavery in some form orother. Without the^ pathos of distance
, such as grows out of the in- carnated difference of classes, out of the constant out-looking anddown-looking of the ruling caste on subordinates and instruments,and out of their equally constant practice of obeying and command-ing, of keeping down and keeping at a distance—that other moremysterious pathos could never have arisen, the longing for an evernew widening of distance within the soul itself, the formation ofever higher, rarer, further, more extended, more comprehensivestates, in short, just the elevation of the type “man,” the continued“self-surmounting of man,” to use a moral formula in a supermoralsense. To be sure, one must not resign oneself to any humanitarianillusions about the history of the origin of an aristocratic society(that is to say, of the preliminary condition for the elevation of thetype “man”): the truth is hard. Let us acknowledge unprejudicedlyhow every higher civilization hitherto has
originated!^ Men with a
still natural nature, barbarians in every terrible sense of the word,men of prey, still in possession of unbroken strength of will anddesire for power, threw themselves upon weaker, more moral, morepeaceful races (perhaps trading or cattle-rearing communities), orupon old mellow civilizations in which the final vital force wasflickering out in brilliant fireworks of wit and depravity. At thecommencement, the noble caste was always the barbarian caste:their superiority did not consist first of all in their physical, but intheir psychical power—they were more
complete^ men (which at
every point also implies the same as “more complete beasts”). 258. Corruption—as the indication that anarchy threatens to breakout among the instincts and that the foundation of the emotions (i.e.,“life”) is convulsed—differs radically according to the organizationin which it manifests itself. When, for instance, an aristocracy likethat of France at the beginning of the Revolution, flung away itsprivileges with sublime disgust and sacrificed itself to an excess ofits moral sentiments, it was corruption—it was really only the clos-ing act of the corruption that had existed for centuries, by virtue of 1
which that aristocracy had abdicated step by step its lordly preroga-tives and lowered itself to a
function^ of royalty (in the end even to its decoration and parade-dress). The essential thing, however, in agood and healthy aristocracy is that it should
not^ regard itself as a function either of the monarchy or the commonwealth, but as the significance^ and highest justification thereof—that it should thenaccept with a good conscience the sacrifice of a legion of individu-als, who,^ for its sake , must be suppressed and reduced to imperfectmen, to slaves and instruments. Its fundamental belief must be pre-cisely that society is^ not
allowed to exist for its own sake, but only as a foundation and scaffolding, by means of which a select class ofbeings may be able to elevate themselves to their higher duties, andin general to a higher
existence : like those sun-seeking climbing plants in Java—they are called
Sipo matador —which encircle an oak so long and so often with their arms, until at last, high above it,but supported by it, they can unfold their tops in the open light, andexhibit their happiness. 259. To refrain mutually from injury, from violence, from exploita-tion, and put one’s will on a par with that of others: this may resultin a certain rough sense in good conduct among individuals whenthe necessary conditions are given (namely, the actual similarity ofthe individuals in amount of force and degree of worth, and their co-relation within one organization). As soon, however, as one wishedto take this principle more generally, and if possible even as the fundamental principle of society
, it would immediately disclose what it really is—namely, a will to the
denial^ of life, a principle of dissolution and decay. Here one must think profoundly to the verybasis and resist all sentimental weakness: life itself is
essentially appropriation, injury, conquest of the strange and weak, suppres-sion, severity, obtrusion of peculiar forms, incorporation, and at theleast, putting it mildest, exploitation;—but why should one for everuse precisely these words on which for ages a disparaging purposehas been stamped? Even the organization within which, as was pre-viously supposed, the individuals treat each other as equal—it takesplace in every healthy aristocracy—must itself, if it be a living andnot a dying organization, do all that towards other bodies, which theindividuals within it refrain from doing to each other it will have to
be the incarnated will to power, it will endeavor to grow, to gainground, attract to itself and acquire ascendancy—not owing to anymorality or immorality, but because it
lives , and because life
is^ pre- cisely will to power. On no point, however, is the ordinary con-sciousness of Europeans more unwilling to be corrected than on thismatter, people now rave everywhere, even under the guise of sci-ence, about coming conditions of society in which “the exploitingcharacter” is to be absent—that sounds to my ears as if they prom-ised to invent a mode of life which should refrain from all organicfunctions. “Exploitation” does not belong to a depraved, or imper-fect and primitive society; it belongs to the nature of the living be-ing as a primary organic function, it is a consequence of the intrinsicwill to power, which is precisely the will to life. Granting that as atheory this is a novelty—as a reality it is the
fundamental fact^ of all history let us be so far honest towards ourselves! 260. In a tour through the many finer and coarser moralities whichhave hitherto prevailed or still prevail on the earth, I found certaintraits recurring regularly together, and connected with one another,until finally two primary types revealed themselves to me, and aradical distinction was brought to light. There is
master-morality and^ slave-morality —I would at once add, however, that in all higherand mixed civilizations, there are also attempts at the reconciliationof the two moralities, but one finds still oftener the confusion andmutual misunderstanding of them, indeed sometimes their closejuxtaposition—even in the same man, within one soul. The distinc-tions of moral values have either originated in a ruling caste, pleas-antly conscious of being different from the ruled—or among theruled class, the slaves and dependents of all sorts. In the first case,when it is the rulers who determine the conception “good,” it is theexalted, proud disposition which is regarded as the distinguishingfeature, and that which determines the order of rank. The noble typeof man separates from himself the beings in whom the opposite ofthis exalted, proud disposition displays itself; he despises them. Letit at once be noted that in this first kind of morality the antithesis“good” and “bad” means practically the same as “noble” and “des-picable”—the antithesis “good” and “
evil ” is of a different origin. The^ cowardly,^ the^ timid,
the^ insignificant,^ and
those^ thinking
certain dreadfulness, subtlety, and strength, which do not admit ofbeing despised. According to slave-morality, therefore, the “evil”man arouses fear; according to master-morality, it is precisely the“good” man who arouses fear and seeks to arouse it, while the badman is regarded as the despicable being. The contrast attains itsmaximum when, in accordance with the logical consequences ofslave-morality, a shade of depreciation—it may be slight and well-intentioned—at last attaches itself to the “good” man of this moral-ity; because, according to the servile mode of thought, the goodman must in any case be the
safe^ man: he is good-natured, easily deceived, perhaps a little stupid,
un bonhomme^ [a simple-minded person]. Everywhere that slave-morality gains the ascendancy, lan-guage shows a tendency to approximate the significations of thewords “good” and “stupid.” A last fundamental difference: the de-sire for^ freedom , the instinct for happiness and the refinements ofthe feeling of liberty belong as necessarily to slave-morals and mo-rality, as artifice and enthusiasm in reverence and devotion are theregular symptoms of an aristocratic mode of thinking and estimat-ing. Hence we can understand without further detail why love
as a passion —it is our European specialty—must absolutely be of nobleorigin; as is well known, its invention is due to the Provençal poet-cavaliers, those brilliant, ingenious men of the “
gai saber ” [art of th^14 century French troubadours, “the merry science”] to whomEurope owes so much, and almost owes itself. 261. Vanity is one of the things which are perhaps most difficult fora noble man to understand: he will be tempted to deny it, whereanother kind of man thinks he sees it self-evidently. The problemfor him is to represent to his mind beings who seek to arouse a goodopinion of themselves which they themselves do not possess—andconsequently also do not “deserve”—and who yet
believe^ in this good opinion afterwards. This seems to him on the one hand suchbad taste and so self-disrespectful, and on the other hand so gro-tesquely unreasonable, that he would like to consider vanity an ex-ception, and is doubtful about it in most cases when it is spoken of.He will say, for instance: “I may be mistaken about my value, andon the other hand may nevertheless demand that my value should beacknowledged by others precisely as I rate it. That, however, is not
vanity (but self-conceit, or, in most cases, that which is called 'hu-mility,' and also 'modesty').” Or he will even say: “For many rea-sons I can delight in the good opinion of others, perhaps because Ilove and honor them, and rejoice in all their joys, perhaps also be-cause their good opinion endorses and strengthens my belief in myown good opinion, perhaps because the good opinion of others,even in cases where I do not share it, is useful to me, or gives prom-ise of usefulness—all this, however, is not vanity.” The man ofnoble character must first bring it home forcibly to his mind, espe-cially with the aid of history, that, from time immemorial, in allsocial strata in any way dependent, the ordinary man
was^ only that which he^ passed for ; not being at all accustomed to fix values, hedid not assign even to himself any other value than that which hismaster assigned to him (it is the peculiar
right of masters^ to create values). It may be looked upon as the result of an extraordinaryatavism [i.e., recurrence of a trait that appeared in one’s remoteancestors], that the ordinary man, even at present, is still always waiting^ for an opinion about himself, and then instinctively submit-ting himself to it; yet by no means only to a “good” opinion, butalso to a bad and unjust one (think, for instance, of most of the self-appreciations and self-depreciations that believing women learnfrom their confessors and that the believing Christian in generallearns from his Church). In fact, conformably to the slow rise of thedemocratic social order (and its cause, the blending of the blood ofmasters and slaves), the originally noble and rare impulse of themasters to assign a value to themselves and to “think well” of them-selves, will now be more and more encouraged and extended; but ithas at all times an older, ampler, and more radically ingrained pro-pensity opposed to it—and in the phenomenon of “vanity” this olderpropensity overmasters the younger. The vain person rejoices over every^ good opinion which he hears about himself (quite apart fromthe point of view of its usefulness, and equally regardless of its truthor falsehood), just as he suffers from every bad opinion: for he sub-jects himself to both, he feels himself subjected to both, by thatoldest instinct of subjection which breaks forth in him. It is “theslave” in the vain man’s blood, the remains of the slave’s crafti-ness—and how much of the “slave” is still left in woman, for in-stance!—which seeks to
seduce^ to good opinions of itself; it is the
slave, too, who immediately afterwards falls prostrate himself be-fore these opinions, as though he had not called them forth. And torepeat it again: vanity is an atavism.... 265. At the risk of displeasing innocent ears, I submit that egoismbelongs to the essence of a noble soul—I mean the unalterable be-lief that to a being such as “we,” other beings must naturally be insubjection, and have to sacrifice themselves. The noble soul acceptsthe fact of his egoism without question, and also without conscious-ness of harshness, constraint, or arbitrariness therein, but rather assomething that may have its basis in the primary law of things. If hesought a designation for it he would say: “It is justice itself.” Heacknowledges under certain circumstances, which made him hesi-tate at first, that there are other equally privileged ones; as soon ashe has settled this question of rank, he moves among those equalsand equally privileged ones with the same assurance, as regardsmodesty and delicate respect, which he enjoys in intercourse withhimself—in accordance with an innate heavenly mechanism whichall the stars understand. It is an
additional^ instance of his egoism, this artfulness and self-limitation in intercourse with his equals—every star is a similar egoist; he honors
himself^ in them, and in the rights which he concedes to them, he has no doubt that the exchangeof honors and rights, as the
essence^ of all intercourse, belongs also to the natural condition of things. The noble soul gives as he takes,prompted by the passionate and sensitive instinct of requital, whichis at the root of his nature. The notion of “favor” has,
inter pares [among equals], neither significance nor good repute; there may bea sublime way of letting gifts as it were light upon one from above,and of drinking them thirstily like dew-drops; but for those arts anddisplays the noble soul has no aptitude. His egoism hinders himhere: in general, he looks “aloft” unwillingly—he looks either
for- ward , horizontally and deliberately, or downwards;
he knows that he is on a height.... 272. Signs of nobility: never to think of lowering our duties to therank of duties for everybody; to be unwilling to renounce or to shareour responsibilities; to count our prerogatives, and the exercise ofthem, among our^ duties
- What is noble? What does the word “noble” still mean for usnowadays? How does the noble man betray himself, how is he rec-ognized under this heavy overcast sky of the commencing plebeian-ism, by which everything is rendered opaque and leaden? It is nothis actions which establish his claim (actions are always ambiguous,always inscrutable); neither is it his “works.” One finds nowadaysamong artists and scholars plenty of those who betray by theirworks that a profound longing for nobleness impels them; but thisvery^ need^ of nobleness is radically different from the needs of thenoble soul itself, and is in fact the eloquent and dangerous sign ofthe lack thereof. It is not the works, but the
belief^ which is here decisive and determines the order of rank—to employ once more anold religious formula with a new and deeper meaning—it is somefundamental certainty which a noble soul has about itself, some-thing which is not to be sought, is not to be found, and perhaps,also, is not to be lost.^ The noble soul has reverence for itself
