For the history of the text constituting this volume I would refer
readers to my preface to _The Will to Power,_ Books I, and II., where
they will also find a brief explanation of the actual title of the
complete work.
In the two books before us Nietzsche boldly carries his principle
still further into the various departments of human life, and does not
shrink from showing its application even to science, to art, and to
metaphysics.
Throughout Part I. of the Third Book we find him going to great pains
to impress the fact upon us that science is as arbitrary as art in
its mode of procedure, and that the knowledge of the scientist is but
the outcome of his inexorable will to power interpreting facts in the
terms of the self-preservative conditions of the particular order of
human beings to which he belongs. In Aphorisms 515 and 516, which are
typical of almost all the thought expressed in Part I., Nietzsche says
distinctly: "The object is not 'to know,' but to schematise,--to impose
as much regularity and form upon chaos as our practical needs require."
Unfamiliarity, constant change, and the inability to reckon with
possibilities, are sources of great danger: hence, everything _must_
be explained, assimilated, and rendered capable of calculation, if
Nature is to be mastered and controlled.
Schemes for interpreting earthly phenomena must be devised which,
though they do not require to be absolute or irrefutable, must
yet favour the maintenance of the kind of men that devises them.
Interpretation thus becomes all important, and facts sink down to
the rank of raw material which must first be given some shape (some
sense--always anthropocentric) before they can become serviceable.
Even the development of reason and logic Nietzsche consistently shows
to be but a spiritual development of the physiological function
of digestion which compels an organism to make things "like" (to
"assimilate") before it can absorb them (Aph. 510). And seeing that he
denies that hunger can be a first motive (Aphs. 651-656), and proceeds
to show that it is the amœba's will to power which makes it extend its
pseudopodia in search of what it can appropriate, and that, once the
appropriated matter is enveloped, it is a process of making _similar_
which constitutes the process of absorption, reason itself is by
inference acknowledged to be merely a form of the same fundamental will.
An interesting and certainly inevitable outcome of Nietzsche's argument
appears in Aph. 516, where he declares that even our inability to deny
and affirm one and the same thing is not in the least necessary, _but
only a sign of inability._
The whole argument of Part I. tends to draw science ever nearer and
nearer to art (except, of course, in those cases in which science
happens to consist merely of an ascertainment of facts), and to prove
that the one like the other is no more than a means of gaining some
foothold upon the slippery soil of a world that is for ever in flux.
In the rush and pell-mell of Becoming, some milestones must be fixed
for the purposes of human orientation. In the torrent of evolutionary
changes pillars must be made to stand, to which man can for a space
hold tight and collect his senses. Science, like art, accomplishes this
for us, and it is our will to power which "creates the impression of
Being out of Becoming" (Aph. 517).
According to this standpoint, then, consciousness is also but a weapon
in the service of the will to power, and it extends or contracts
according to our needs (Aph. 524). It might disappear altogether (Aph.
523), or, on the other hand, it might increase and make our life more
complicated than it already is. But we should guard against making
it the Absolute behind Becoming, simply because it happens to be the
highest and most recent evolutionary form (Aph. 709). If we had done
this with each newly acquired characteristic, sight itself, which is a
relatively recent development, would also have required to have been
deified.
Pantheism, Theism, Unitarianism--in fact all religions in which a
_conscious_ god is worshipped, are thus aptly classed by Nietzsche
as the result of man's desire to elevate that which is but a new and
wonderful instrument of his will to power, to the chief place in the
imaginary world beyond (eternal soul), and to make it even the deity
itself (God Omniscient).
With the question of Truth we find Nietzsche quite as ready to uphold
his thesis as with all other questions. He frankly declares that "the
criterion of truth lies in the enhancement of the feeling of power"
(Aph. 534), and thus stands in diametrical opposition to Spencer, who
makes constraint or inability the criterion of truth. (See _Principles
of Psychology,_ new edition, chapter ix.... "the unconceivableness of
its negation is the ultimate test of the truth of a proposition.")
However paradoxical Nietzsche's view may seem, we shall find that
it is actually substantiated by experience; for the activity of our
senses certainly convinces us more or less according to the degree to
which it is provoked. Thus, if we walked for long round a completely
dark room, and everything yielded, however slightly, to our touch, we
should remain quite unconvinced that we were in a room at all, more
particularly if--to suppose a still more impossible case--the floor
yielded too. What provokes great activity in the bulbs of our fingers,
then, likewise generates the sensation of truth.
From this Nietzsche proceeds to argue that what provokes the strongest
sentiments in ourselves is also true to us, and, from the standpoint of
thought, "that which gives thought the greatest sensation of strength"
(Aph. 533).
The provocation of intense emotion, and therefore the provocation
of that state in which the body is above the normal in power, thus
becomes the index to truth; and it is a very remarkable thing that two
prominent English thinkers should, at the very end of their careers,
have practically admitted this, despite the fact that all their
philosophical productions had been based upon a completely different
belief. I refer, of course, to Spencer and Buckle, who both upheld the
view that in a system of thought the emotional factor is of the highest
importance.
It follows from all this, that lies and false doctrines may quite
conceivably prove to be even more preservative to species than truth
itself, and although this is a view we have already encountered in the
opening aphorisms of _Beyond Good and Evil,_ in Aph, 538 this volume
we find it further elucidated by Nietzsche's useful demonstration
of the fact that "the easier way of thinking always triumphs over
the more difficult way"; and that logic, inasmuch as it facilitated
classification and orderly thought, ultimately "got to act like truths."
Before leaving Part I., with which it would be impossible to deal in
full, a word or two ought to be said in regard to Nietzsche's views
concerning the belief in "cause and effect." In the _Genealogy of
Morals_ (1st Essay, Aph. 13), we have already read a forecast of our
author's more elaborate opinions on this question, and the aphorism
in question might be read with advantage in conjunction with the
discussion on the subject found in this book (Aphs. 545-555).
The whole of Nietzsche's criticism, however, resolves itself into
this, that the doctrine of causality begins with an unnecessary
duplication of all that happens. Language, and its origin among a
people uneducated in thoughts and concepts, is at the root of this
scientific superstition, and Nietzsche traces its evolution from the
primeval and savage desire always to find a "doer" behind every deed:
to find some one who is responsible and who, being known, thus modifies
the unfamiliarity of the deed which requires explaining. "The so-called
instinct of causality [of which Kant speaks with so much assurance] is
nothing more than the fear of the unfamiliar."
In Aph. 585 (A), we have a very coherent and therefore valuable
exposition of much that may still seem obscure in Nietzsche's
standpoint, and we might almost regard this aphorism as the key to
the epistemology of the Will to Power. When we find the "will to
truth" defined merely as "the longing for a stable world," we are in
possession of the very leitmotiv of Nietzsche's thought throughout Part
I., and most of what follows is clearly but an elaboration of this
thought.
In Part II. Nietzsche reveals himself as utterly opposed to all
mechanistic and materialistic interpretations of the Universe. He
exalts the spirit and repudiates the idea that mere pressure from
without--naked environment--is to be held responsible (and often
guilty!) for all that materialistic science would lay at its door.
Darwin again comes in for a good deal of sharp criticism; and, to those
who are familiar with the nature of Nietzsche's disagreement with this
naturalist, such aphorisms as Nos. 643, 647, 649, 651, 684, 685, will
be of special interest. There is one question of great moment, which
all Nietzsche's perfectly sincere and profoundly serious deprecation
of the Darwinian standpoint ought to bring home to all Englishmen who
have perhaps too eagerly endorsed the conclusions of their own British
school of organic evolution, and that is, to what extent were Malthus,
and afterwards his disciple Darwin, perhaps influenced in their
analysis of nature by preconceived notions drawn from the state of
high pressure which prevailed in the thickly-populated and industrial
country in which they both lived?
It is difficult to defend Darwin from the fundamental attack which
Nietzsche directs at the very root of his teaching, and which turns
upon the question of the motive of all Life's struggle. To assume
that the motive is always a "struggle for existence" presupposes the
constant presence of two conditions--want and over-population,--an
assumption which is absolutely non-proven, and it likewise lends a
peculiarly ignoble and cowardly colouring to the whole of organic life,
which not only remains unsubstantiated in fact, but which the struggle
for power completely escapes. In Part III., which, throughout, is
pretty plain sailing, Aphorism 786 contains perhaps the most important
statements. Here morality is shown to be merely an instrument, but this
time it is the instrument of the gregarious will to power. In the last
paragraph of this aphorism Nietzsche shows himself quite antagonistic
to Determinism, because of its intimate relation to, and its origin in,
a mechanistic interpretation of the Universe. But we should always
remember that, inasmuch as Nietzsche would distribute beliefs, just as
others distribute bounties--that is to say, according to the needs of
those whom he has in view, we must never take for granted that a belief
which he deprecates for one class of man ought necessarily, according
to him, to be denied another class.
Hard as it undoubtedly is to bear this in mind, we should remember that
his appeal is almost without interruption made to higher men, and that
doctrines and creeds which he condemns for them he would necessarily
exalt in the case of people who were differently situated and otherwise
constituted. Christianity is a case in point (see _Will to Power,_ vol.
i. Aph. 132).
We now come to Part IV., which is possibly the most important part of
all, seeing that it treats of those questions which may be regarded as
Nietzsche's most constant concern from the time when he wrote his first
book.
The world as we now see and know it, with all that it contains which is
beautiful, indifferent, or ugly, from a human standpoint, is, according
to Nietzsche, the creation of our own valuing minds. Perhaps only a few
people have had a hand in shaping this world of values. Maybe their
number could be counted on the fingers of two hands; but still, what
Nietzsche insists upon is, that it is human in its origin. Our whole
outlook, everything that gives us joy or pain, must at one time or
other have been valued for us, and in persisting in these valuations
we, as the acclimatised herd, are indebted to our artists, to our
higher men, to all those in history, who at some time or other have
dared to stand up and to declare emphatically that _this_ was ugly and
that _that_ was beautiful, and to fight, and if necessary to die, for
their opinion.
Religion, morality, and philosophy, while they all aim at so-called
universal Truth, tend to depreciate the value of life in the eyes of
exceptional men. Though they establish the "beautiful" for the general
stock, and in that way enhance the value of life for that stock,
they contradict higher men's values, and, by so doing, destroy their
innocent faith in the world. For the problem here is not, what value is
true?--but, what value is most conducive to the highest form of human
life on earth?
Nietzsche would fain throw all the burden of valuing upon the Dionysian
artist him who speaks about this world out of the love and plenitude
of power that is in his own breast, him who, from the very health that
is within him, cannot look out upon life without transfiguring it,
hallowing it, blessing it, and making it appear better, bigger, and
more beautiful. And, in this view, Nietzsche is quite consistent; for,
if we must accept his conclusion that our values are determined for us
by our higher men, then it becomes of the highest importance that these
valuers should be so constituted that their values may be a boon and
not a bane to the rest of humanity.
Alas! only too often, and especially in the nineteenth century, have
men who lacked this Dionysian spirit stood up and valued the world; and
it is against these that Nietzsche protests. It is the bad air they
have spread which he would fain dispel.
An to what art means to the artist himself, apart from its actual
effect on the world, Nietzsche would say that it is a manner of
discharging his will to power. The artist tries to stamp his opinion
of what is desirable, and of what is beautiful or ugly, upon his
contemporaries and the future; it is in this valuing that his impulse
to prevail finds its highest expression. Hence the instinctive economy
of artists in sex matters--that is to say, in precisely that quarter
whither other men go when their impulse to prevail urges them to
action. Nietzsche did not of course deny the sensual nature of artists
(Aph. 815); all he wished to make plain was this, that an artist who
was not moderate, _in eroticis,_ while engaged upon his task, was open
to the strongest suspicion.
In the Fourth Book Nietzsche is really at his very best. Here, while
discussing questions such as "The Order of Rank," he is so thoroughly
in his exclusive sphere, that practically every line, even if it were
isolated and taken bodily from the context, would bear the unmistakable
character of its author. The thought expressed in Aphorism 871 reveals
a standpoint as new as it is necessary. So used have we become to the
practice of writing and legislating for a mass, that we have forgotten
the rule that prevails even in our own navy--that the speed of a fleet
is measured by its slowest vessel.
On the same principle, seeing that all our philosophies and moralities
have hitherto been directed at a mass and at a mob, we find that their
elevation must of necessity be decided by the lowest of mankind. Thus
all passions are banned, because base men do not know how to enlist
them in their service. Men who are masters of themselves and of others,
men who understand the management and privilege of passion, become the
most despised of creatures in such systems of thought, because they are
confounded with the vicious and licentious; and the speed of mankind's
elevation thus gets to be determined by humanity's slowest vessels.
Aphorisms 881, 882, 886 fully elucidate the above considerations, while
in 912, 916, 943, and 951 we have plans of a constructive teaching
which the remainder of Part I. elaborates.
And now, following Nietzsche carefully through Part II. (Dionysus),
what is the inevitable conclusion of all we have read? This analysis
of the world's collective values and their ascription to a certain
"will to power" may now seem to many but an exhaustive attempt at a new
system of nomenclature, and little else. As a matter or fact it is very
much more than this. By mean? of it Nietzsche wishes to show mankind
how much has lain, and how much still lies, in man's power By laying
his finger on everything and declaring to man that it was human will
that created it. Nietzsche wished to give man the courage of this will,
and a clean conscience in exercising it. For it was precisely this very
will to power which had been most hated and most maligned by everybody
up to Nietzsche's time.
Long enough, prompted by the fear of attributing any one of his
happiest thoughts to this hated fundamental will, had man ascribed
all his valuations and all his most sublime inspirations to something
outside himself,--whether this something were a God, a principle, or
the concept Truth. But Nietzsche's desire was to show man how human,
all too human, have been the values that have appeared heretofore;
he wished to prove, that to the rare sculptors of values, the world,
despite its past, is still an open field of yielding clay, and in
pointing to what the will to power has done until now, Nietzsche
suggests to these coming sculptors what might still be done, provided
they fear nothing, and have that innocence and that profound faith in
the fundamental will which others hitherto have had in God, Natural
Laws, Truth, and other euphemistic fictions.
The doctrine of Eternal Recurrence, to which Nietzsche attached so much
importance that it may be regarded almost as the inspiration which led
to his great work, _Thus Spake Zarathustra,_ ought to be understood
in the light of a purely disciplinary and chastening creed. In one of
his posthumous works we find Nietzsche saying: "The question which
thou shalt have to answer before every deed that thou doest;--is this
such a deed as I am prepared to perform an incalculable number of
times,--is the best ballast." Thus it is obvious that, feeling the need
of something in his teaching which would replace the metaphysics of
former beliefs, he applied the doctrine of Eternal Recurrence to this
end. Seeing, however, that even among Nietzscheans themselves there
is considerable doubt concerning the actual value of the doctrine as
a ruling belief, it does not seem necessary to enter here into the
scientific justification which he claims for it. Suffice it to say
that, as knowledge stands at present, the statement that the world will
recur eternally in small things as in great, is still a somewhat daring
conjecture--a conjecture, however, which would have been entirely
warrantable if its disciplinary value had been commensurate with its
daring.