III

Having endeavoured thus to dispose of the "ethically good" and

"ethically bad" by the theory that such ideas are merely distortions

of the ideas of "practically good and practically bad," Nietzsche in

the second essay of the Genealogy makes a similar effort to take the

sting out of the ideas of "Schuld" (guilt, debt), and "schlechtes

Gewissen" (bad conscience). But here, again, difficulties beset our

revolutionary. He approves of responsibility and the sacredness of the

promise, but disapproves of the bad conscience by which the individual

would enforce these things on himself. He blesses justice, but damns

the social system. We shall find it hard to follow him in his attempted

reconciliation of these divergent standpoints. When, for instance,

he alludes with almost paternal approbation to the savage mnemonics

by which the "conscience" (_per se_) was produced, and then proceeds

to an envenomed, if none the less brilliant polemic against the "bad

conscience," we see that in reality it is not so much the existence of

a conscience _quâ_ conscience, to which he objects, but the existence

of a conscience functioning on what he conceives to be a vicious

basis. Indeed, even the most faithful of our prophet's disciples would

admit that the Nietzschean teaching lays down as thorny and toilsome

a path for the "bold, bad man," or _übermensch_, as Christianity ever

decreed for the good man or weakling. The only difference, in fact,

between Nietzschean and Christian ethics is that between excessive

self-affirmation and excessive self-negation. But one has only to read

_Zarathustra_ to realise immediately that this self-affirmation is no

heedless hedonism, but a tense and chronic struggle of the ego against

the world, subject to as rigid rules and braving as intense martyrdoms

as does the Christian struggle of the spirit against the flesh. We may

say, in fact, that on an officially Nietzschean basis the "bad" man who

fails in being thoroughly and perfectly bad is, and apparently properly

so, subject to as poignant pangs as is the "good" man who fails in

being thoroughly and perfectly good.

Granted, however, that it is the content of the bad conscience rather

than the existence of a bad conscience _per se_, which provokes his

righteous indignation, let us make some attempt to see how far

Nietzsche is logical in condemning, as he does, existing ethics as the

bastard child of contract and revenge, thriving amid a civilisation

which has no real right to exist. Nietzsche starts off in fine

feather to prove that the word "Schuld" (guilt) is the same as the

word "Schuld" (debt), as though that momentous piece of philological

research crushed all ethics once and for all. We do not for a moment

dispute the philology. Moreover, as far as the general principle is

concerned, it had been previously pointed out by Maine that all crimes

were in their origin torts--that is to say, private wrongs against the

individual (though doubts as to how far this theory is to be carried

are raised by the universal execration which even in the most primitive

societies was visited on murderers like Cain or Orestes).

It may, moreover, be true that in many cases the local god is simply

a deceased ancestor promoted to a heavenly status, who requires

payment for protecting his descendants. But such arguments can at the

best merely have effect on the theological conception of morality

as a divine ordinance descending immediately from heaven. From the

sociological standpoint, indeed, to derive "ethics" from "contract"

is simply to consolidate one phase of the social instinct by deriving

it from another. As, however, has been hinted before, it was the

theological conception that was Nietzsche's main objective. So long

as he could kill that, he was indifferent to the price, if, indeed,

his morbidly classic and aristocratic standpoint did not hold that

the taint of the bourgeois and the _βάναυσος_ attached

automatically to everything commercial.

The shifts, however, to which Nietzsche is driven are well illustrated

when we come to that further stage in his evolution of the moral idea,

which consists in deriving modern ethics or the "bad conscience" from

the principle of "resentment" or "revenge," which is alleged to be

a totally distinct thing from the "active feeling" by which Justice

enforces its sanctions. But with all due respect to Nietzsche and his

official expounders, we find it hard to appreciate any real difference

in principle between the various drastic measures by which the social

organism enforces its decree. The punishment for murder, we suggest,

would be equally death both in a Nietzschean and in a non-Nietzschean

state, and how anything more than the merest verbal distinction is

achieved by labelling one sanction the "active emotion of justice" and

the other "the principle of resentment" we are frankly at a loss to

conceive. We can only say that the basing of the "bad conscience" on

the spirit of revenge is true in the sense that from one aspect the

function of the social organism is to protect the many against the few

by the enforcements of drastic punishments against its transgressors.

That, moreover, the strong are unduly restricted to pamper the weak is

an arguable proposition, how arguable, can be seen from the present

volubility of the financially strong when menaced nowadays with

taxation for the benefit of the financially weak. But to go to the

length of saying that the whole social fabric is a morbid distortion,

a thing intrinsically bad, a kind of quasi-theological fall from an

ideal state of primitive anarchy, is, at the most charitable estimate,

a mere piece of poetic extravagance. Yet to this length Nietzsche goes

when he pictures his blonde primæval beast swung into "new situations

and conditions of existence"; in other words, into the "pale of society

with a spring and rush." The apparent suddenness of the transition

strikes us, indeed, as naïf as the philosophy of Rousseau or of Hobbes,

who actually conceived the social contract as a specific bargain

entered into at a specific time.

One of the most interesting parts, however, of the whole essay is

Nietzsche's explanation of the "bad conscience" as the result of

the primitive energy of the savage venting itself in psychological

self-torture when debarred from its natural outlet of physical

violence. "All instincts which do not vent themselves without vent

themselves within," so runs the dictum of the prophet, a dictum

no doubt of great psychological truth, and capable of concrete

illustration when applied to nuns, monks, and other ascetics, or to

definite cases of neurotic introspection, but clearly not deserving to

be treated as the key to the whole social fabric.

We have already remarked that the real weakness of the Nietzschean

philosophy lay in the neglect of the Aristotelian theory that man was a

_ζῶον πολιτικον_ or a social animal. Let us resume this line

of inquiry. Nietzsche does, it is true, refer to the "herd instinct"

of the weak, but only to exhibit his very palpable contempt against

the weak who herd together so as to be able effectually to combat the

strong. A yet further proof of Nietzsche's bitter hatred of the social

organism is supplied by the celebrated phrases in _Zarathustra_, "as

little state as possible," and "the slow suicide which we call the

state." In our view, however, the real test of Nietzsche's position

is touched when we come to the position of the aristocratic strong

man. "Are they," one wonders, "tainted or untainted with the herd

instinct?" Nietzsche's answer to this question seems to be that, so

far as concerns the vast bulk of the herd, they are inimical to the

social instinct, but that none the less they find social organisation

(apparently that identical state which we have seen spoken of as

"slow suicide") necessary, not only for keeping the herd in proper

order, but for the purpose of "their own fight with other complexes

of power." Viewed impartially, however, it does not seem to us that

Nietzsche pays sufficient importance to the universality and value of

the social instinct. Perhaps the root of the whole matter lies in the

fact that Nietzsche fixes apparently the human unit as the individual,

whereas, in point of fact, it is that state in miniature, the family.

The origin of the family may no doubt be found in the primæval

instincts of sex and parentship. None the less, it is an indisputed

sociological fact that the family, or its larger manifestation the

tribe, is, as is evident from the slightest perusal of the works of

Darwin, Maine, or Westermarck, the primitive form of human life. It

would obviously be outside the scope of this preface to go in detail

into the whole question of the origin of society, but it would also

appear an indisputable platitude that man, _quâ_ man, thrives by

co-operation and association. In economical terminology this truth is

known as the division of labour, in sociology by our frequently quoted

Aristotelian dictum that man is a social animal. Nietzsche, it is

true, tries to evade, or at any rate minimise, the force of this fact

by treating law as the concrete exemplification of might is right.

This, of course, is true as far as it goes, but it is only one side

of the medal. All law is based on sovereignty, and all sovereignty is

in the last resort based on force. It is possible, no doubt, for this

force, this ultimate sanction to be exercised on approved Nietzschean

principles by the few against the many. To quote the words of Ihering,

the great Austrian jurist: "And so force, when it allies itself with

insight and self-control, produces law. It is the origin of law out

of the power of the stronger who stands in opposition to another,

of which we now begin to get a glimpse." Yet, even though for the

moment we confine ourselves to this aspect, it is obvious that while

such a law subjugates the weak to the strong, it also regulates and

curtails the rights of the strong among themselves, creating, as it

were, a state within a state, or, to use once again the language of

Ihering, "the self-limitation of force in its own interest." Equally

important, however, is the obverse side of the medal, on which appears

the exercise of the ultimate sanction by the many against the few.

To quote Ihering for the last time: "The crucial point in the whole

organisation of law is the preponderance of the common interests of

all over the particular interests of the individuals." The vice, then,

of Nietzsche's theory is that he bisects law into its two constituent

phases, ignores one phase and confines himself to the other, apparently

in blissful oblivion of the fact that even in the most aristocratic of

aristocracies there exists, even though in miniature, the "slow suicide

of the state."

There is a further criticism which seems to arise properly out of

Nietzsche's vehement denunciation of civilisation. The state and

civilisation are bad according to Nietzsche, because they take the

sting out of this struggle for existence, and cut the fangs of the

superman. But, according to Nietzschean principles, are they not

equally good in so far as they enable the superman to refine and

elaborate his scale of combat? It is, indeed, obvious that the

intellectualisation of the blonde beast of primitive times into the

newspaper proprietor, American financier, or revolutionary philosopher

of modernity would have been impossible but for the intervention of

a very highly developed social organism. Yet even the most confirmed

Nietzschean would admit that Mr. Rockefeller is, in spite of his

evangelistic proclivities, a more highly developed specimen of the

superman than Tamerlane, and Lord Northcliffe than, say, Cæsar Borgia.

One final observation: according to Nietzsche the test of merit is

efficiency and the test of efficiency is success. Supposing, however,

that a large number of individuals comparatively weak overpower through

sheer force of combination a small number of individuals comparatively

strong. Are not the weak changed into the strong, and conversely? We do

not say that this is necessarily so: we merely adduce the argument to

show how easily Nietzschean principles lend themselves to exploitation

at the hands of the Socialists.

Nietzsche's philosophy, however, was above all didactic, missionary.

He analysed contemporary morality, not by way of an academic or

scientific exercise, but with a view to striking, and striking hard,

at that aspect of it which he quite honestly believed to be vicious

and deleterious. Hence it is that having in his first two essays

dealt with the etymological and legal aspects of the question, he now

goes straight to the root of the whole matter. What is the practical

application of all these tendencies which he has analysed? The ascetic

ideal--and against this ideal our teacher proceeds to deliver as

tense and concentrated a sermon as ever fell from the lips of any

denouncer of the luxurious or non-ascetic ideal. We have not space,

unfortunately, to follow Nietzsche through his elaborate analysis both

of the ascetic ideal in its origin and in its eventual distortion and

corruption at the hands of the ascetic priest. We will only observe

that to grasp properly Nietzsche's position, stress should be laid

on the fact that in the same way in which it was not the conscience

_per se_, but the current content of the conscience, so it was not

asceticism _per se_, but the current content of asceticism to which

Nietzsche objected.

As he explains in drastic and elaborate style, the philosopher, like

the jockey or the athlete, would, through the simple exigencies of his

_métier_, live the ascetic life. In such cases asceticism is simply the

mechanical condition precedent of complete concentration. Similarly,

the _übermensch_ (superman) would no doubt be compelled to live the

ascetic life in his strenuous struggle with subsisting values. The

asceticism, however, to which Nietzsche in fact did object, was the

asceticism which was not like the philosopher's asceticism, a means to

creating or promoting actual human life, but was a means to destroying

and minimising actual human life, the asceticism which denied the right

to happiness, and which found in sin the solution to the riddle of the

human world.

Indeed, it is thoroughly characteristic of Nietzsche's whole attitude

that he demurs vigorously to almost any solution of the riddle of the

world. According to his reasoning, the need for any solution at all,

whether transcendental, after the pattern of Kant and the Idealists, or

quasi-transcendental, after the pattern of the pseudo-metaphysics of

the scientists, argues an inability to take life on its own merits and

on its own valuation.

Let us finally glance briefly at the practical application of the

Nietzschean philosophy, a course thoroughly consistent with the

intensely practical spirit of our prophet. We are at first almost

overwhelmed by the heterogeneous character of those who profess to be

the true disciples of the great master, a character so heterogeneous,

forsooth, that Nietzsche seems occasionally to be nothing but a

catch-word mouthed by every conceivable school of thought with

the rankest impunity. The Socialists, conveniently forgetting the

opprobrious designation by the sage as "spiders," and their apostolic

"Man is not equal," which he had thundered forth, find a bond of

sympathy in their common disapproval of Christianity, though even

here their standpoints are radically different, since while the

"tarantulæ" rebelled against it as being too narrow a prison, Nietzsche

scorns it as being too comfortable a lounge. Zarathustra, moreover,

showed himself truly Persian in his repudiation of the claims of

the child-bearing machine called woman to equal rights with the

warrior-man: "When thou goest with women," quoth the prophet, "forget

not the whip." Nothing daunted, however, the shrieking hordes of

the ultra-modern sisterhood, from the "Free Lover" to the "Ethical

Lifer," find in Nietzsche the most emphatic justification for alike

their theories and their practices. Does not _Es Lebe das Leben_, the

well-known drama of Sudermann, portray the philosophical dogma of

self-expression leading to highly unphilosophic applications? Does not

the Scandinavian writer and woman with a mission, Ella[1] Key, start

her book _Personality and Beauty_ with the following quotations from

Nietzsche: "Follow after thyself--what says thy conscience?--thou shalt

be that which thou art--let the highest self-expression be thy highest

expression." Truly the Nietzschean aphorisms seem caps guaranteed

to fit the most diverse heads so, but they show the slightest

disposition to tumidity. Young men and nations in a hurry, Socialists

and aristocrats, æsthetes and "woman's righters," all combine in a

cacophonous chorus well calculated to make the shade of Zarathustra,

should he visit Europe, hasten back in disgust to the mountain peaks of

his solitude.

Yet, however susceptible to abuse the Nietzschean philosophy may be,

such a multifarious exploitation, though repudiated from the official

standpoint, does not strike us as necessarily illogical. The doctrine

of the superman, indeed, has in Nietzsche two distinct meanings--the

evolution of generic man to his extreme limit, as exemplified in the

aphorism, "Man is a bridge between beast and superman," and secondly

the idealisation of the clash between the individual and society, the

apotheosis of the aggressive combatant element in man, the

_τὸ θυμοεῑδες_ of the Platonic trinity. Yet, whatever meaning may

be chosen, it is well-nigh impossible to prevent individuals from

cherishing the honest and sincere belief that in developing themselves

(whether with or without the rigid discipline incumbent upon the

orthodox superman), they are either helping the development of the

race, or providing a picturesque expression of a considerably altered,

but still authentic, "Athanasius contra mundum." With the present boom

no doubt Nietzscheanism may become a craze (in Germany, of course, it

is already _passé_ and has become academic and respectable), like the

æstheticism of the Wilde period and grown liable to equal if dissimilar

perversions.

Yet none the less, if taken very broadly and very sanely, Nietzsche

is capable of constituting a valuable modern bible for the

twentieth-century man who proposes to live vastly and to play for grand

stakes. It may no doubt be true that while Heine and Voltaire merely

shot poisoned arrows at Christianity, Nietzsche blew it clean away with

the giant salvos of his artillery; yet on the tremendous space that he

cleared he built a temple to Energy and Efficiency. And note, that he

worships these deities not for any ulterior advantage, but for their

own sake solely. His frenzy for life precludes him at once from being

a pessimist; it does not follow, however, that he is an optimist (in

the hedonistic sense of the word), for neither in his own life, nor in

his conception of that of others, do we find it clearly expressed that

the pleasures of life outweigh the pains. More accurate is it to say

that he is a philosophy transcending optimism. "On! On!! On!!! Live!

Live!! Live!!! whatever the result and whatever your fate. Fight life

and chance everything, for the fight's the thing rather than the mere

trumpery guerdon." So we would venture to phrase the true Nietzschean

spirit, or if an actual quotation is required, "_I say unto you it is

not the good cause which sanctifies the war, but the good war which

sanctifies the cause_."

The most marvellous thing, however, about this grim lust of life is

that it is absolutely insatiate, absolutely infinite. According to

the theory of the Eternal Return, the events of this life will repeat

and repeat with the tireless inevitability of a recurring decimal.

Taken literally, no doubt this theory is simply the mystical dance

of a Titanic mind striving to scale infinity. But the psychological

significance is none the less profound. Is it not turning the tables

with a vengeance on the Christian idea of a prospective non-earthly

existence, compared with which this existence is a mere shadowy

preparation, to pile future life on future life on future life, and

every one of them a repetition of man's life on earth? It is impossible

for the affirmation of human existence to be carried further. And

this human existence, what is its solution, None, or rather itself!

Existence is its own sanction, its own _raison d'être_, and he who

coldly ravishes the sphinx of life has found a drastic solution far

excelling that of any Œdipus.

[Footnote 1: transcriber's note: "Ella" (sic). Should be "Ellen" Key.

(M.D.)]

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