The Joyful Wisdom 9

The Joyful Wisdom 9

Motivation of Poverty._—We cannot, to be sure, by any artifice make a

rich and richly-flowing virtue out of a poor one, but we can gracefully

enough reinterpret its poverty into necessity, so that its aspect no

longer gives pain to us, and we do not make any reproachful faces at

fate on account of it. It is thus that the wise gardener does, who puts

the tiny streamlet of his garden into the arms of a fountain-nymph, and

thus motivates the poverty:—and who would not like him need the nymphs!

 

 

18.

 

_Ancient Pride._—The ancient savour of nobility is lacking in us,

because the ancient slave is lacking in our sentiment. A Greek of noble

descent found such immense intermediate stages, and such a distance

betwixt his elevation and that ultimate baseness, that he could hardly

even see the slave plainly: even Plato no longer saw him entirely. It is

otherwise with us, accustomed as we are to the _doctrine_ of the

equality of men, although not to the equality itself. A being who has

not the free disposal of himself and has not got leisure,—that is not

regarded by us as anything contemptible; there is perhaps too much of

this kind of slavishness in each of us, in accordance with the

conditions of our social order and activity, which are fundamentally

different from those of the ancients.—The Greek philosopher went through

life with the secret feeling that there were many more slaves than

people supposed—that is to say, that every one was a slave who was not a

philosopher. His pride was puffed up when he considered that even the

mightiest of the earth were thus to be looked upon as slaves. This pride

is also unfamiliar to us, and impossible; the word "slave" has not its

full force for us even in simile.

 

 

19.

 

_Evil._—Test the life of the best and most productive men and nations,

and ask yourselves whether a tree which is to grow proudly heavenward

can dispense with bad weather and tempests: whether disfavour and

opposition from without, whether every kind of hatred, jealousy,

stubbornness, distrust, severity, greed, and violence do not belong to

the _favouring_ circumstances without which a great growth even in

virtue is hardly possible? The poison by which the weaker nature is

destroyed is strengthening to the strong individual—and he does not call

it poison.

 

 

20.

 

_Dignity of Folly._—Several millenniums further on in the path of the

last century!—and in everything that man does the highest prudence will

be exhibited: but just thereby prudence will have lost all its dignity.

It will then, sure enough, be necessary to be prudent, but it will also

be so usual and common, that a more fastidious taste will feel this

necessity as _vulgarity_. And just as a tyranny of truth and science

would be in a position to raise the value of falsehood, a tyranny of

prudence could force into prominence a new species of nobleness. To be

noble—that might then mean, perhaps, to be capable of follies.

 

 

21.

 

_To the Teachers of Unselfishness._—The virtues of a man are called

_good_, not in respect of the results they have for himself, but in

respect of the results which we expect therefrom for ourselves and for

society:—we have all along had very little unselfishness, very little

"non-egoism" in our praise of the virtues! For otherwise it could not

but have been seen that the virtues (such as diligence, obedience,

chastity, piety, justice) are mostly _injurious_ to their possessors, as

impulses which rule in them too vehemently and ardently, and do not want

to be kept in co-ordination with the other impulses by the reason. If

you have a virtue, an actual, perfect virtue (and not merely a kind of

impulse towards virtue!)—you are its _victim_! But your neighbour

praises your virtue precisely on that account! One praises the diligent

man though he injures his sight, or the originality and freshness of his

spirit, by his diligence; the youth is honoured and regretted who has

"worn himself out by work," because one passes the judgment that "for

society as a whole the loss of the best individual is only a small

sacrifice! A pity that this sacrifice should be necessary! A much

greater pity, it is true, if the individual should think differently,

and regard his preservation and development as more important than his

work in the service of society!" And so one regrets this youth, not on

his own account, but because a devoted _instrument_, regardless of

self—a so-called "good man," has been lost to society by his death.

Perhaps one further considers the question, whether it would not have

been more advantageous for the interests of society if he had laboured

with less disregard of himself, and had preserved himself

longer,—indeed, one readily admits an advantage therefrom, but one

esteems the other advantage, namely, that a _sacrifice_ has been made,

and that the disposition of the sacrificial animal has once more been

_obviously_ endorsed—as higher and more enduring. It is accordingly, on

the one part, the instrumental character in the virtues which is praised

when the virtues are praised, and on the other part, the blind, ruling

impulse in every virtue, which refuses to let itself be kept within

bounds by the general advantage to the individual; in short, what is

praised is the unreason in the virtues, in consequence of which the

individual allows himself to be transformed into a function of the

whole. The praise of the virtues is the praise of something which is

privately injurious to the individual; it is praise of impulses which

deprive man of his noblest self-love, and the power to take the best

care of himself. To be sure, for the teaching and embodying of virtuous

habits a series of effects of virtue are displayed, which make it appear

that virtue and private advantage are closely related,—and there is in

fact such a relationship! Blindly furious diligence, for example, the

typical virtue of an instrument, is represented as the way to riches and

honour, and as the most beneficial antidote to tedium and passion: but

people are silent concerning its danger, its greatest dangerousness.

Education proceeds in this manner throughout: it endeavours, by a series

of enticements and advantages, to determine the individual to a certain

mode of thinking and acting, which, when it has become habit, impulse

and passion, rules in him and over him, _in opposition to his ultimate

advantage_, but "for the general good." How often do I see that blindly

furious diligence does indeed create riches and honours, but at the same

time deprives the organs of the refinement by virtue of which alone an

enjoyment of riches and honours is possible; so that really the main

expedient for combating tedium and passion, simultaneously blunts the

senses and makes the spirit refractory towards new stimuli! (The busiest

of all ages—our age—does not know how to make anything out of its great

diligence and wealth, except always more and more wealth, and more and

more diligence; there is even more genius needed for laying out wealth

than for acquiring it!—Well, we shall have our "grandchildren"!) If the

education succeeds, every virtue of the individual is a public utility,

and a private disadvantage in respect to the highest private

end,—probably some psycho-æsthetic stunting, or even premature

dissolution. One should consider successively from the same standpoint

the virtues of obedience, chastity, piety, and justice. The praise of

the unselfish, self-sacrificing, virtuous person—he, consequently, who

does not expend his whole energy and reason for _his own_ conservation,

development, elevation, furtherance and augmentation of power, but lives

as regards himself unassumingly and thoughtlessly, perhaps even

indifferently or ironically,—this praise has in any case not originated

out of the spirit of unselfishness! The "neighbour" praises

unselfishness because _he profits by it_! If the neighbour were

"unselfishly" disposed himself, he would reject that destruction of

power, that injury for _his_ advantage, he would thwart such

inclinations in their origin, and above all he would manifest his

unselfishness just by _not giving it a good name_! The fundamental

contradiction in that morality which at present stands in high honour is

here indicated: the _motives_ to such a morality are in antithesis to

its _principle_! That with which this morality wishes to prove itself,

refutes it out of its criterion of what is moral! The maxim, "Thou shalt

renounce thyself and offer thyself as a sacrifice," in order not to be

inconsistent with its own morality, could only be decreed by a being who

himself renounced his own advantage thereby, and who perhaps in the

required self-sacrifice of individuals brought about his own

dissolution. As soon, however, as the neighbour (or society) recommended

altruism _on account of its utility_, the precisely antithetical

proposition, "Thou shalt seek thy advantage even at the expense of

everybody else," was brought into use: accordingly, "thou shalt," and

"thou shalt not," are preached in one breath!

 

 

22.

 

_L'Ordre du Jour pour le Roi._—The day commences: let us begin to

arrange for this day the business and fêtes of our most gracious lord,

who at present is still pleased to repose. His Majesty has bad weather

to-day: we shall be careful not to call it bad; we shall not speak of

the weather,—but we shall go through to-day's business somewhat more

ceremoniously and make the fêtes somewhat more festive than would

otherwise be necessary. His Majesty may perhaps even be sick: we shall

give the last good news of the evening at breakfast, the arrival of M.

Montaigne, who knows how to joke so pleasantly about his sickness,—he

suffers from stone. We shall receive several persons (persons!—what

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