The Genealogy of Morals The Complete Works, Volume Thirteen, edited by Dr. Oscar Levy.

By Friedrich Nietzsche

Page 6

to decipher) about
the past history of human morals. This script was unknown to Dr. Rée;
but he had read Darwin:--and so in his philosophy the Darwinian beast
and that pink of modernity, the demure weakling and dilettante, who
"bites no longer," shake hands politely in a fashion that is at least
instructive, the latter exhibiting a certain facial expression of
refined and good-humoured indolence, tinged with a touch of pessimism
and exhaustion; as if it really did not pay to take all these things--I
mean moral problems--so seriously. I, on the other hand, think that
there are no subjects which pay better for being taken seriously; part
of this payment is, that perhaps eventually they admit of being taken
gaily. This gaiety indeed, or, to use my own language, this joyful
wisdom, is a payment; a payment for a protracted, brave, laborious, and
burrowing seriousness, which, it goes without saying, is the attribute
of but a few. But on that day on which we say from the fullness of our
hearts, "Forward! our old morality too is fit material for Comedy,"
we shall have discovered a new plot, and a new possibility for the
Dionysian drama entitled The Soul's Fate--and he will speedily utilise
it, one can wager safely, he, the great ancient eternal dramatist of
the comedy of our existence.


If this writing be obscure to any individual, and jar on his ears, I
do not think that it is necessarily I who am to blame. It is clear
enough, on the hypothesis which I presuppose, namely, that the reader
has first read my previous writings and has not grudged them a certain
amount of trouble: it is not, indeed, a simple matter to get really at
their essence. Take, for instance, my _Zarathustra_; I allow no one
to pass muster as knowing that book, unless every single word therein
has at some time wrought in him a profound wound, and at some time
exercised on him a profound enchantment: then and not till then can he
enjoy the privilege of participating reverently in the halcyon element,
from which that work is born, in its sunny brilliance, its distance,
its spaciousness, its certainty. In other cases the aphoristic form
produces difficulty, but this is only because this form is treated
_too casually_. An aphorism properly coined and cast into its final
mould is far from being "deciphered" as soon as it has been read; on
the contrary, it is then that it first requires _to be expounded_--of
course for that purpose an art of exposition is necessary. The third
essay in this book provides an

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Text Comparison with The Genealogy of Morals The Complete Works, Volume Thirteen, edited by Dr. Oscar Levy.

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We have never searched for ourselves--how should it then come to pass, that we should ever _find_ ourselves? Rightly has it been said: "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
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This problem of the value of pity and of the pity-morality (I am an opponent of the modern infamous emasculation of our emotions) seems at the first blush a mere isolated problem, a note of interrogation for itself; he, however, who once halts at this problem, and learns how to put questions, will experience what I experienced:--a new and immense vista unfolds itself before him, a sense of potentiality seizes him like a vertigo, every species of doubt, mistrust, and fear springs up, the belief in morality, nay, in all morality, totters,--finally a new demand voices itself.
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It was out of this pathos of distance that they first arrogated the right to create values for their own profit, and to coin the names of such values: what had they to do with utility?.
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Above all, there is no exception (though there are opportunities for exceptions) to this rule, that the idea of political superiority always resolves itself into the idea of psychological superiority, in those cases where the highest caste is at the same time the _priestly_ caste, and in accordance with its general characteristics confers on itself the privilege of a title which alludes specifically to its priestly function.
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An inability to take seriously for any length of time their enemies, their disasters, their _misdeeds_--that is the sign of the full strong natures who possess a superfluity of moulding plastic force, that heals completely and produces forgetfulness: a good example of this in the modern world is Mirabeau, who had no memory for any insults and meannesses which were practised on him, and who was only incapable of forgiving because he forgot.
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If, however, we place ourselves at the end of this colossal process, at the point where the tree finally matures its fruits, when society and its morality of custom finally bring to light that to which it was only the means, then do we find as the ripest fruit on its tree the _sovereign individual_, that resembles only himself, that has got loose from the morality of custom, the autonomous "super-moral" individual (for "autonomous" and "moral" are mutually-exclusive terms),--in short, the man of the personal, long, and independent will, _competent to promise_, and we find in him a proud consciousness (vibrating in every fibre), of _what_ has been at last achieved and become vivified in him, a genuine consciousness of power and freedom, a feeling of human perfection in general.
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The wrath of the injured creditor, of the community, puts him back in the wild and outlawed status from which he was previously protected: the community repudiates him--and now every kind of enmity can vent itself on him.
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Let me whisper a word in the ear of the psychologists, if they would fain study revenge itself at close quarters: this plant blooms its prettiest at present among Anarchists and anti-Semites, a hidden flower, as it has ever been, like the violet, though, forsooth, with another perfume.
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And the man himself, on whom the punishment subsequently fell like a piece of fate, was occasioned no more of an "inner pain" than would be occasioned by the sudden approach of some uncalculated event, some terrible natural catastrophe, a rushing, crushing avalanche against which there is no resistance.
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Owing something to _God_:.
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" To him it is just the excitement of the "will"(the "interest") by the beauty that seems the essential fact.
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" We honour the silent, the cold, the noble, the far, the past, everything, in fact, at the sight of which the soul is not bound to brace itself up and defend itself--something with which one can speak without _speaking aloud_.
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For an ascetic life is a self-contradiction: here rules resentment without parallel, the resentment of an insatiate instinct and ambition, that would be master, not over some element in life, but over life itself, over life's deepest, strongest, innermost conditions; here is an attempt made to utilise power to dam the sources of power; here does the green eye of jealousy turn even against physiological well-being, especially against the expression of such well-being, beauty, joy; while a sense of pleasure is experienced and _sought_ in abortion, in decay, in pain, in misfortune, in ugliness, in voluntary punishment, in the exercising, flagellation, and sacrifice of the self.
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Every oligarchy is continually quivering with the tension of the effort required by each individual to keep mastering this desire.
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" In the very midst of the Græco-Roman splendour, which was also a splendour of books, face to face with an ancient world of writings which had not yet fallen into decay and ruin, at a time when certain books were still to be read, to possess which we would give nowadays half our literature in exchange, at that time the simplicity and vanity of Christian agitators (they are generally called Fathers of the Church) dared to declare: "We too have our classical literature, we _do not need that of the Greeks_"--and meanwhile they proudly pointed to their books of legends, their letters of apostles, and their apologetic tractlets, just in the same way that to-day the English "Salvation Army" wages its fight against Shakespeare and other "heathens" with an analogous literature.
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The "contemplative" are a hundred times worse––I never knew anything which produced such intense nausea as one of those "objective" _chairs_,[6] one of those scented mannikins-about-town of history, a thing half-priest, half-satyr (Renan _parfum_), which betrays by the high, shrill falsetto of his applause what he lacks and where he lacks it, who betrays where in this case the Fates have plied their ghastly shears, alas! in too surgeon-like a fashion! This is distasteful to me, and irritates my patience; let him keep patient at such sights who has nothing to lose thereby,––such a sight enrages me, such spectators embitter me against the "play," even more than does the play itself (history itself, you understand); Anacreontic moods imperceptibly come over me.
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All great things go to ruin by reason of themselves, by reason of an act of self-dissolution: so wills the law of life, the law of necessary "self-mastery" even in the essence of life--ever is the law-giver finally exposed to the cry, "_patere legem quam ipse tulisti_"; in thus wise did Christianity _go to ruin as a dogma_, through its own morality; in thus wise must Christianity go again to ruin to-day as a morality--we are standing on the threshold of this event.
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The future of German culture rests with the sons of the Prussian officers.
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must consist in this: that the Europeans, by virtue of their growing morality, believe in all their innocence and vanity that they are rising higher and higher, whereas the truth is that they are sinking lower and lower--i.