304.
_Concerning the ideal of the moralist._--In this treatise we wish to
speak of the great _politics_ of virtue. We wrote it for the use of
all those who are interested, not so much in the process of becoming
virtuous as in that of making others virtuous--in how virtue _is made
to dominate._ I even intend to prove that in order to desire this
one thing--the dominion of virtue--the other must be systematically
avoided; that is to say, one must renounce all hopes of becoming
virtuous. This sacrifice is great: but such an end is perhaps a
sufficient reward for such a sacrifice. And even greater sacrifices!...
And some of the most famous moralists have risked as much. For these,
indeed, had already recognised and anticipated the truth which is to
be revealed for the first time in this treatise: that the _dominion of
virtue_ is absolutely attainable _only by the use of the same means_
which are employed in the attainment of any other dominion, in any case
not _by_ means of virtue itself....
As I have already said, this treatise deals with the politics of
virtue: it postulates an ideal of these politics; it describes it as it
ought to be, if anything at all can be perfect on this earth. Now, no
philosopher can be in any doubt as to what the type of perfection is
in politics; it is, of course, Machiavellianism. But Machiavellianism
which is _pur, sans mélange, cru, vert, dans toute sa force, dans
toute son âpreté,_ is superhuman, divine, transcendental, and can
never be achieved by man--the most he can do is to approximate it.
Even in this narrower kind of politics--in the politics of virtue--the
ideal never seems to have been realised. Plato, too, only bordered
upon it. Granted that one have eyes for concealed things, one can
discover, even in the most guileless and most conscious _moralists_
(and this is indeed the name of these moral politicians and of the
founders of all newer moral forces), traces showing that they too paid
their tribute to human weakness. _They all aspired_ to virtue on their
own account--at least in their moments of weariness; and this is the
leading and most capital error on the part of any moralist--whose duty
it is to be an _immoralist in deeds._ That he must not exactly _appear
to be the latter,_ is another matter. Or rather it is _not_ another
matter: systematic self-denial of this kind (or, expressed morally:
dissimulation) belongs to, and is part and parcel of, the moralist's
canon and of his self-imposed duties: without it he can never attain
to his particular kind of perfection. Freedom from morality _and from
truth_ when enjoyed for that purpose which rewards every sacrifice: for
the sake of making _morality dominate_--that is the canon. Moralists
are in need of the _attitudes of virtue,_ as also of the attitudes of
truth; their error begins when they _yield_ to virtue, when they lose
control of virtue, when they themselves become _moral_ or _true._ A
great moralist is, among other things, necessarily a great actor; his
only danger is that his pose may unconsciously become a second nature,
just like his ideal, which is to keep his _esse_ and his _operari_
apart in a divine way; everything he does must be done _sub specie
boni_--a lofty, remote, and exacting ideal! A _divine_ ideal! And, as
a matter of fact, they say that the moralist thus imitates a model
which is no less than God Himself: God, the greatest Immoralist in
deeds that exists, but who nevertheless understands how to remain what
He _is,_ the _good_ God....
305.
The dominion of virtue is not established by means of virtue itself;
with virtue itself, one renounces power, one loses the Will to Power.
306.
The victory of a moral ideal is achieved by the same "immoral" means as
any other victory: violence, lies, slander, injustice.
307.
He who knows the way fame originates will be suspicious even of the
fame virtue enjoys.
308.
Morality is just as "immoral" as any other thing on earth; morality is
in itself a form of immorality.
The great _relief_ which this conviction brings. The contradiction
between things disappears, the unity of all phenomena is _saved----_
309.
There are some who actually go in search of what is immoral. When they
say: "this is wrong," they believe it ought to be done away with
or altered. On the other hand, I do not rest until I am quite clear
concerning the _immorality_ of any particular thing which happens to
come under my notice. When I discover it, I recover my equanimity.
310.
A. _The ways which lead to power_: the presentation of the new virtue
under the name of an _old_ one,--the awakening of "interest" concerning
it ("happiness" declared to be its reward, and _vice versâ_),--artistic
slandering of all that stands in its way,--the exploitation of
advantages and accidents with the view of glorifying it,--the
conversion of its adherents into fanatics by means of sacrifices and
separations,--symbolism _on a grand scale_.
B. _Power attained_: (1) Means of constraint of virtue; (2) seductive
means of virtue; (3) the (court) etiquette of virtue.
311.
_By what means does a virtue attain to power?--_With precisely the
same means as a political party: slander, suspicion, the undermining of
opposing virtues that happen to be already in power, the changing of
their names, systematic persecution and scorn; in short, _by means of
acts of general "immorality."_
How does a _desire_ behave towards itself in order to become a
_virtue_?--A process of rechristening; systematic denial of its
intentions; practice in misunderstanding itself; alliance with
established and recognised virtues; ostentatious enmity towards its
adversaries. If possible, too, the protection of sacred powers must be
purchased; people must also be intoxicated and fired with enthusiasm;
idealistic humbug must be used, and a party must be won, which _either_
triumphs _or_ perishes--one must be _unconscious and naïf_.
312.
Cruelty has become transformed and elevated into tragic pity, so that
we no longer recognise it as such. The same has happened to the love
of the sexes which has become amour-passion; the slavish attitude of
mind appears as Christian obedience; wretchedness becomes humility;
the disease of the _nervus sympathicus,_ for instance, is eulogised as
Pessimism, Pascalism, or Carlylism, etc.
313.
We should begin to entertain doubts concerning a man if we heard that
he required reasons in order to remain respectable: we should, in any
case, certainly avoid his society. The little word "for" in certain
cases may be compromising; sometimes a single "for" is enough to
refute one. If we should hear, in course of time, that such-and-such
an aspirant for virtue was in need of _bad_ reasons in order to remain
respectable, it would not conduce to increasing our respect for him.
But he goes further; he comes to us, and tells us quite openly: "You
disturb my morality, with your disbelief, Mr. Sceptic; so long as you
cannot believe in my _bad reasons,_--that is to say, in my God, in a
disciplinary Beyond, in free will, etc.,--you put obstacles in the way
of my virtue.... Moral, sceptics must be suppressed: they prevent the
_moralisation of the masses_."
314.
Our most sacred convictions, those which are permanent in us concerning
the highest values, are _judgments emanating from our muscles._
315.
_Morality in the valuation of races and classes.--_In view of the fact
that the _passions_ and _fundamental instincts_ in every race and class
express the means which enable the latter to preserve themselves (or at
least the means which have enabled them to live for the longest period
of time), to call them "virtuous" practically means:
That they change their character, shed their skins, and blot out their
past.
It means that they should cease from differentiating themselves from
others.
It means that they are getting to resemble each other in their needs
and aspirations--or, more exactly, _that they are declining...._
It means that the will to one kind of morality is merely the _tyranny_
of the particular species, which is adapted to that kind of morality,
over other species: it means a process of annihilation or general
levelling in favour of the prevailing species (whether it be to
render the non-prevailing species harmless, or to exploit them); the
"Abolition of Slavery"--a so-called tribute to "human dignity"; in
truth, the _annihilation_ of a fundamentally different species (the
undermining of its values and its happiness).
The qualities which constitute the strength of an _opposing race_ or
class are declared to be the most evil and pernicious things it has:
for by means of them it may be harmful to us (its virtues are slandered
and rechristened).
When a man or a people harm us, their action constitutes an objection
against them: but from their point of view we are desirable, because we
are such as can be useful to them.
The insistence upon spreading "humaneness" (which guilelessly starts
out with the assumption that it is in possession of the formula "What
is human") is all humbug, beneath the cover of which a certain definite
type of man strives to attain to power: or, more precisely, a very
particular kind of instinct--the _gregarious instinct._ "The equality
of men": this is what lies _concealed_ behind the tendency of _making_
ever more and more men _alike_ as men.
_The "interested nature" of the morality of ordinary people._ (The
trick was to elevate the great passions for power and property to the
positions of protectors of virtue.)
To what extent do all kinds of _business men_ and money-grabbers--all
those who give and take credit--find it _necessary_ to promote the
levelling of all characters and notions of value? the _commerce and the
exchange of the world_ leads to, and almost purchases, virtue.
The _State_ exercises the same influence, as does also any sort of
ruling power at the head of officials and soldiers; _science_ acts in
the same way, in order that it may work in security and economise its
forces. And the _priesthood_ does the same.
Communal morality is thus promoted here, because it is advantageous;
and, in order to make it triumph, war and violence are waged against
immorality--with what "right"? Without any right whatsoever; but in
accordance with the instinct of self-preservation. The same classes
avail themselves of immorality when it serves their purpose to do so.
316.
Observe the hypocritical colour which all _civil institutions_ are
painted, just as if they were _the offshoots of morality_--for
instance: marriage, work, calling, patriotism, the family, order,
and rights. But as they were all established in favour of the _most
mediocre_ type of man, to protect him from exceptions and the need of
exceptions, one must not be surprised to find them sown with lies.
317.
_Virtue_ must be defended against its preachers: they are its worst
enemies. For they teach virtue as an ideal _for all_; they divest
virtue of the charm which consists in its rareness, its inimitableness,
its exceptional and non-average character--that is to say, of its
_aristocratic charm._ A stand must also be made against those
embittered idealists who eagerly tap all pots and are satisfied to
hear them ring hollow: what ingenuousness--to _demand_ great and rare
things, and then to declare, with anger and contempt of one's fellows,
that they do not exist!--It is obvious, for instance, that a _marriage_
is worth only as much as those are worth whom it joins--that is to say,
that on the whole it is something wretched and indecent: no priest or
registrar can make anything else of it.
_Virtue_[6] has all the instincts of the average man against it: it is
not profitable, it is not prudent, and it isolates. It is related to
passion, and not very accessible to reason; it spoils the character,
the head, and the senses--always, of course, subject to the medium
standard of men; it provokes hostility towards order, and towards the
_lies_ which are concealed beneath all order, all institutions, and
all reality--when seen in the light of its pernicious influence upon
_others,_ it is _the worst of vices_.
I recognise virtue in that: (1) it does not insist upon being
recognised; (2) it does not presuppose the existence of virtue
everywhere, but precisely something else; (3) it does _not suffer_
from the absence of virtue, but regards it rather as a relation of
perspective which throws virtue into relief: it does not proclaim
itself; (4) it makes no propaganda; (5) it allows no one to pose as
judge because it is always a _personal_ virtue; (6) it does precisely
what is generally _forbidden_: virtue as I understand it is the actual
_vetitum_ within all gregarious legislation; (7) in short, I recognise
virtue in that it is in the Renaissance style--_virtù_--free from all
moralic acid....
[Footnote 6: TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.--Virtue is used here, of course, in the
sense of "the excellence of man," not in the sense of the Christian
negative virtue.]
318.
In the first place[7] Messrs. Virtue-mongers, you have no superiority
over us; we should like to make you take _modesty_ a little more to
heart: it is wretched personal interests and prudence which suggest
your virtue to you. And if you had more strength and courage in your
bodies you would not lower yourselves thus to the level of virtuous
nonentities. You make what you can of yourselves: partly what you are
obliged to make,--that is to say, what your circumstances force you
to _make,_--partly what suits your pleasure and seems useful to you.
But if you do only what is in keeping with your inclinations, or
what necessity exacts from you, or what is useful to you, you ought
_neither to praise yourselves nor let others praise you_!... One is
a _thoroughly puny kind of man_ when one is _only_ virtuous: nothing
should mislead you in this regard! Men who have to be considered at
all, were never such donkeys of virtue: their inmost instinct, that
which determined their quantum of power, did not find its reckoning
thus: whereas with your minimum amount of power nothing can seem more
full of wisdom to you than virtue. But the _multitude_ are on your
side: and because you _tyrannise_ over us, we shall fight you....
[Footnote 7: TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.--Here Nietzsche returns to Christian
virtue which is negative and moral.]
319.
A _virtuous man_ is of a lower species because, in the first place,
he has no "personality," but acquires his value by conforming with a
certain human scheme which has been once and for ever fixed. He has no
independent value: he may be compared; he has his equals, he _must_ not
be an individual.
Reckoning up the qualities of the _good_ man, why is it they appear
pleasant to us? Because they urge us neither to war, to mistrust, to
caution, to the accumulating of forces, nor to severity: our laziness,
our good nature, and our levity, have a _good time._ This, our _feeling
of well-being,_ is _what we project into_ the good man in the form of a
_quality,_ in the form of a _valuable possession._
320.
Under certain circumstances, virtue is merely a venerable form of
stupidity: who could blame you for it? And this form of virtue has not
been outlived even to-day. A sort of honest peasant-simplicity, which
is possible, however, in all classes of society, and which one cannot
meet with anything else than a respectful smile, still thinks to-day
that everything is in good hands--that is to say, in "God's hands": and
when it supports this proposition with that same modest assurance as
that with which it would assert that two and two are four, we others
naturally refrain from contradiction.
Why disturb _this_ pure foolery? Why darken it with our cares
concerning man, people, goals, the future? Even if we wished to
do so, we shouldn't succeed. _In_ all things these people see the
reflection of their own venerable stupidity and goodness (in them the
old God--_deus myops--_ still lives); we others see something else in
everything: our problematic nature, our contradictions, our deeper,
more painful, and more suspicious wisdom.
321.
He who finds a particular virtue an easy matter, ultimately laughs at
it. Seriousness cannot be maintained once virtue is attained. As soon
as a man has reached virtue, he jumps out of it--whither? Into devilry.
Meanwhile, how intelligent all our evil tendencies and impulses have
become! What an amount of inquisitiveness torments them! They are all
fishhooks of knowledge!
322.
The idea is to associate vice with something so terrible that at
last one is obliged to run away from it in order to be rid of its
associations. This is the well-known case of Tannhäuser. Tannhäuser,
brought to his wits' end by Wagnerian music, cannot endure life any
longer even in the company of Mrs. Venus: suddenly virtue begins to
have a charm for him; a Thuringian virgin goes up in price, and what
is even worse still, he shows a liking for Wolfram von Eschenbach's
melody....
323.
_The Patrons of Virtue._--Lust of property, lust of power, laziness,
simplicity, fear; all these things are interested in virtue; that is
why it stands so securely.
324.
_Virtue_ is no longer believed in; its powers of attraction are dead;
what is needed is some one who will once more bring it into the market
in the form of an outlandish kind of adventure and of dissipation. It
exacts too much extravagance and narrow-mindedness from its believers
to allow of conscience not being against it to-day. Certainly, for
people, without either consciences or scruples, this may constitute
its new charm: it is now what it has never been before--a vice.
325.
Virtue is still the most expensive vice: _let_ it remain so!
326.
Virtues are as dangerous as vices, in so far as they are allowed to
rule over one as authorities and laws coming from outside, and not as
qualities one develops one's self. The latter is the only right way;
they should be the most personal means of defence and most individual
needs--the determining factors of precisely _our_ existence and growth,
which we recognise and acknowledge independently of the question
whether others grow with us with the help of the same or of different
principles. This view of the danger of the virtue which is understood
as impersonal and _objective_ also holds good of modesty: through
modesty many of the choicest intellects perish. The morality of modesty
is the worst possible softening influence for those souls for which it
is pre-eminently necessary that they become _hard_ betimes.
327.
The domain of morality must be reduced and limited step by step; the
names of the instincts which are really active in this sphere must be
drawn into the light of day and honoured, after they have lain all
this time in the concealment of hypocritical names of virtue. Out of
respect for one's "honesty," which makes itself heard ever more and
more imperiously, one ought to unlearn the shame which makes one deny
and "explain away" all natural instincts. The extent to which one can
dispense with virtue is the measure of one's strength; and a height may
be imagined where the notion "virtue" is understood in such a way as
to be reminiscent of _virtù_--the virtue of the Renaissance--free from
moralic acid. But for the moment--how remote this ideal seems!
_The reduction of the domain of morality_ is a sign of its progress.
Wherever, hitherto, thought has not been guided by causality, thinking
has taken a _moral_ turn.
328.
After all, what have I achieved? Let us not close our eyes to this
wonderful result: I have lent new _charms_ to virtue--it now affects
one in the same way as something _forbidden._ It has our most subtle
honesty against it, it is salted in the "_cum grano salis_" of the
scientific pang of conscience. It savours of antiquity and of old
fashion, and thus it is at last beginning to draw refined people and
to make them inquisitive--in short, it affects us like a vice. Only
after we have once recognised that everything consists of lies and
appearance, shall we have again earned the right to uphold this most
beautiful of all fictions--virtue. There will then remain no further
reason to deprive ourselves of it: only when we have shown virtue to
be a _form of immorality_ do we again _justify it,_--it then becomes
classified, and likened, in its fundamental features, to the profound
and general immorality of all existence, of which it is then shown to
be a part. It appears as a form of luxury of the first order, the most
arrogant, the dearest, and rarest form of vice. We have robbed it of
its grimaces and divested it of its drapery; we have delivered it from
the importunate familiarity of the crowd; we have deprived it of its
ridiculous rigidity, its empty expression, its stiff false hair, and
its hieratic muscles.
329.
And is it supposed that I have thereby done any harm to virtue?... Just
as little as anarchists do to princes. Only since they have been shot
at, have they once more sat securely on their thrones.... For thus
it has always been and will ever be: one cannot do a thing a better
service than to persecute it and to run it to earth.... This--I have
done.