Nietzsche the Moralist
Conceiving all forms of morality to be but weapons in the struggle
for power, Nietzsche concluded that every species of man must at
some time or other have taken to moralising, and must have called
that "good" which its instincts approved, and that "bad" which its
enemies instincts approved. In Beyond Good and Evil, however, he
tells us that after making a careful examination "of the finer and
coarser moralities which have hitherto prevailed or still prevail on
earth," he found certain traits recurring so regularly together, and so
closely connected with one another, that, finally, two primary types
of morality revealed themselves to him. That is to say, after passing
the known moralities of the world in review, he was able to classify
them broadly into two types.
He observed that throughout human history there had been a continual
and implacable war between two kinds of men; it must have begun in the
remotest ages, and it continues to this day. It is the war between the
powerful and the impotent, the strong and the weak, the givers and
the takers, the healthy and the sick, the happy and the wretched. The
powerful formed their concept of "good," and it was one which justified
their strongest instincts. The impotent likewise acquired their view of
the matter, which was often precisely the reverse of the former view.
In this way Nietzsche arrived at the following broad generalisation:
that all the moralities of the world could be placed under one of two
heads, _Master Morality or Slave Morality_.
In the first, the master morality, it is the oak which contends: I
must reach the sun and spread broad brandies in so doing; this I call
"good," and the herd that I shelter may also call it good. In the
second, the slave morality, it is the shrub which says: I also want to
reach the sun, these broad branches of the oak, however, keep the sun
from me, therefore the oak's instincts are "bad."
It is obvious that these two points of view exist and have existed
everywhere on earth. Apart from national and racial distinctions,
mankind does fall into the two broad classes of master and slave, or
ruler and subject. We also know that each of these classes must have
developed its moral code, and must have tried to protect its conduct
and life therewith. But, what we did not know until Nietzsche pointed
the fact out to us, was: which morality is the more desirable and the
more full of promise for the future? Admitting that the master and the
slave moralities are struggling for supremacy still, which of them
ought we to promote with every means in our power?--which of them
is going to make life more attractive, more justifiable, and more
acceptable on earth?
These are now questions of the utmost importance; because it is
precisely now that pessimism, nihilism, and other desperate faiths are
beginning to set their note of interrogation to human existence, and to
shake our belief even in the desirability of our own survival.
It is now time for us to discover whence arises this contempt and
horror of life, and to lay the blame for it either at the door of the
master or of the slave morality.
In order that we may understand how to set forth upon this inquiry, let
us first form a mental image of the two codes as they must have been
evolved by their originators.
Nietzsche reminds us before we start, however,[1] that in most communities
the two moralities have become so confused and mingled, in order
to establish that compromise which is so dear to the hearts of the
peaceful, that it would be almost a hopeless task to seek any society
on earth in which they are now to be seen juxtaposed in sharp contrast.
Be this as it may, in order to recognise the blood of each when we come
across it, we have only to think of what must have occurred when the
ruling caste and the ruled class took to moralising.
Taking the ruling caste first, it is clear that in their
morality, all is _good_ which proceeds from strength, power, health,
well-constitutedness, happiness, and awfulness; for the motive force
behind the people who evolved it was simply the will to discharge
a plenitude, a superabundance, of spiritual and physical wealth. A
consciousness of high tension, of a treasure that would fain give and
bestow,--this is the mental attitude of the nobles. The antithesis
"good" and "bad" to this first class means the same as "noble" and
"despicable." "Bad" in the master morality must be applied to the
coward, to all acts that spring from weakness, to the man with "an eye
to the main chance," who would forsake everything in order to live.
The creator of the master morality was he who, out of the very fulness
of his soul, transfigured all he saw and heard, and declared it better,
greater, more beautiful than it appeared to the creator of the slave
morality. Great artists, great legislators, and great warriors belong
to the class that created master morality.
Turning now to the second class, we must bear in mind that it is the
product of a community in which the struggle for existence is the
prime life-motor. There, inasmuch as oppression, suffering, weariness,
and servitude are the general rule, all will be regarded as good that
tends to alleviate pain. Pity, the obliging hand, the warm heart,
patience, industry, and humility,--these are undoubtedly the virtues
we shall here find elevated to the highest places; because they are
_useful_ virtues; they make life endurable; they are helpful in the
struggle for existence. To this class, all that proceeds from strength,
superabundance of spiritual or bodily power, or great health, is looked
upon with loathing and mistrust, while that which is awful is the worst
and greatest evil. He is good who is amenable, kind, unselfish, meek,
and submissive; that is why, in all communities where slave morality is
in the ascendant, a "good fellow" always suggests a man in possession
of a fair modicum of foolishness and sentimentality.
The creator of slave-morality was one who, out of the poverty of his
soul, transfigured all he saw and heard, and declared it smaller,
meaner, and less beautiful than it appeared to the creator of the
master values. Great misanthropists, pessimists, demagogues, tasteless
artists, nihilists, spiteful authors and dramatists, and resentful
saints belong to the class that created slave-morality.
The first order of values are active, creative, Dionysiac. The
second are passive, defensive, venomous, subterranean; to them
belong "Adaptation," "adjustment," and "utilitarian relationship to
environment."
Now, seeing that mankind is undoubtedly moulded by the nature of the
values which prevail over it, it is manifestly of paramount importance
to the philosopher to know which order of values conduces to rear the
most desirable species of man, and then to advocate that order, with
all the art and science at his disposal.
Nietzsche saw two lines of life: an ascending and a descending line.
At the end of the one he pictured an ideal type, robust in mind and
body, rich enough in spirit and vigour to make giving and bestowing
a necessary condition of its existence; at the end of the other line
he already perceived degeneracy, poverty of blood and spirit, and a
sufficiently low degree of vitality to make parasitism a biological
need.
He believed that the first, or noble morality, when it prevailed, made
for an ascending line of life and therefore favoured the multiplication
of a desirable type of man; and he was now equally convinced that
whenever ignoble or slave morality was supreme, life not only tended
to follow the descending line, but that the very men whose existence
it favoured were the least likely to stem the declining tide. Hence it
seemed to him that the most essential of all tasks was to ascertain
what kind of morality now prevailed, in order that we might immediately
transvalue our values, while there was still time, if we believed this
change to be necessary.
What then are our present values? Nietzsche replies most emphatically
--they are Christian values.
In the last chapter we saw that although Christian dogma was very
rapidly becoming mere wreckage, its most earnest opposers and
destroyers nevertheless clung with fanatical faith to Christian
morality. Thus, in addition to the vast multitude of those professing
the old religion, there was also a host of atheists, agnostics,
rationalists, and materialists, who, as far as Nietzsche was concerned,
could quite logically be classed with those who were avowedly
Christian. And, as for the remainder--a few indifferent and perhaps
nameless people,--what could they matter? Even they, perhaps, if hard
pressed, would have betrayed a sneaking, cowardly trust in Christian
ethics, if only out of a sense of security; and with these the total
sum of the civilised world was fully made up.
Perhaps to some this may appear a somewhat sweeping conclusion. To such
as doubt its justice, the best advice that can be given is to urge them
to consult the literature, ethical, philosophical, and otherwise, of
those writers whom they would consider most opposed to Christianity
before the publication of Nietzsche's works; and they will then realise
that, with very few exceptions, mostly to be found among uninfluential
and uncreative iconoclasts, the whole of the Western civilised world in
Nietzsche's time was firmly Christian in morals, and most firmly so,
perhaps, in those very quarters where the dogma of the religion of pity
was most honestly disclaimed.
It had therefore become in the highest degree necessary to put these
values under the philosophical microscope, and to discover to which
order they belonged. Was Christianity the purveyor of a noble or of
a slave morality? The reply to this question would reveal the whole
tendency of the modern world, and would also answer Nietzsche's
searching inquiry: "Are we on the right track?"
Pursuing Nietzsche's method as closely as we can, let us now turn to
Christianity, as we find it to-day, and see whether it is possible to
bring its values into line with one of the two broad classes spoken of
in this chapter.
In the first place, Nietzsche discovers that Christianity is not a
world-approving faith. The very pivot upon which it revolves seems to
be the slandering and depreciating of this world, together with the
praise and exaltation of a hypothetical world to come. To his mind it
seems to draw odious comparisons between the things of this earth and
the blessings of heaven. Finally, it gushes in a very unsportsmanlike
manner over an imaginary beyond, to the detriment and disadvantage of
a "here," of this earth, of this life, and posits another region--a
nether region--for the accommodation of its enemies.[2]
What, now, is the mental attitude of these "backworldsmen," as
Nietzsche calls them, who can see only the world's filth? Who is likely
to need the thought of a beyond, where he will live in bliss while
those he hates will writhe in hell? Such ideas occur only to certain
minds. Do they occur to the minds of those who, by the very health,
strength, and happiness that is in them, transfigure all the world
--even the ugliness in it--and declare it to be beautiful? Do they
occur to the powerful who can chastise their enemies while their blood
is still up? Admitting that the world may be surveyed from a hundred
different standpoints, is this particular standpoint which we now have
under our notice, that of a contented, optimistic, sanguine type, or
that of a discontented, pessimistic, anæmic one?
"To the pure all things are pure!--I, however, say unto you: To the
swine all things are swinish."[3]
Nietzsche's sensitive car caught curious notes in the daily dronings of
those around him--notes that made him suspicious of the whole melody
of modern life, and still more suspicions of the chorus executing it.
He heard to his astonishment: ... "the wretched alone are the good;
the poor, the impotent, the lowly alone are good; only the sufferers,
the needy, the sick, the ugly are pious only they are godly; them alone
blessedness awaits--but ye, the proud and potent, ye are for aye
and evermore the wicked, the cruel, the lustful, the insatiable, the
godless; ye will also be, to all eternity, the unblessed, the cursed,
and the damned."[4]
He continued listening intently, and, with his ear attuned anew, these
sentiments broke strangely upon his senses:--
"Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
"Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of
God."[5]
There was no time for brooding over stray thoughts; there was still
much to be seen and hoard. When you want to catch some one napping, you
keep your eye eagerly upon him, and turn neither to the right nor to
the left. Nietzsche, it must be remembered, was at this stage treading
softly towards Europe whom he believed to be "napping."
In his lonely hermit cell he was able to catch all the sounds that
rose from the city beneath him, and he heard perhaps more than the
inhabitants themselves.
He could see them all fighting and quarrelling, and he was cheered,
because he knew that where the great fight for power ceases, the
standard of life falls. But some he saw were wounded, others were
actually unfit for the battlefield, a large number looked tired and
listless, and there were yet others--a goodly multitude--who were
resentful at the sight of their superiors and who, like sulky children,
dropped their arms in a pet and declared that they would not play any
more. And what were all these feeble and less viable mortals doing?
They were crying aloud, and making their deepest wishes known. They
were elevating their desiderata to the highest places amongst earthly
virtues--and driving back the others with _words_! Nietzsche thought
of Reynard the Fox, who, at the very moment that he was about to be
hanged, and with the rope already round his neck, succeeded by his
dialectical skill in persuading the crowd to release him. For Nietzsche
could hear the weary, the wounded, and the incapable of the fight,
crying quite distinctly through their lips parched for rest: "Peace is
good! Love is good! Love for one's neighbour is good! Ay, and even love
for one's enemy is good!"[6]
And some cried: "It is God that avengeth me!" to those who oppressed
them, and others said: "The Lord avenge me!"[7]
Whereupon Nietzsche thought of the Jehovah of the Old Testament, the
God of revenge and thunderbolts; he recalled the sentiment: "Ye shall
chase your enemies and they shall fall fall before you by the sword,"
and he wondered how this had come to mean "love your enemies," in the
New Testament. Had another type of men perhaps made themselves God's
mouthpiece?
Yes, that must be so; for, in their holy book, he came across this
passage, ascribed to one of their greatest saints:
"Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?
"For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew God, it
pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe.
"... Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many
noble _are called_:
"But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the
wise: and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the
things which are mighty:
"And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God
chosen, yea and things which are not, to bring to nought things that
are."[8]
Here, Nietzsche tells us, he began to hold his nose; but he still
listened; for there was yet more to be heard. From the smiles that were
breaking over the lips of those who read the above words, he gathered
that they must have overcome their unhappiness. Yes, indeed, they had.
But what did they call it? This was important--even the Christian view
of unhappiness seemed significant to Nietzsche in this inquiry.
Their unhappiness, their wretchedness, they called a trial, a gift, a
distinction! Not really? Yes indeed! As Nietzsche points out: "They
are wretched, no doubt, all these mumblers and underground forgers,
though warmly seated together. But they tell us their wretchedness is a
selection and distinction from God, that the dogs which are loved most
are whipped, that their misery may perhaps also be a preparation, a
trial, a schooling; perhaps even more--something which at some time to
come will be refuted and paid back with immense interest in gold. No!
in happiness. This they call 'blessedness.'"[9]
At this point Nietzsche declares that he could stand it no longer.
"Enough, enough! Bad air! Bad air!" he cried. "Methinks this workshop
of virtue positively reeks."
He had now realised in whose company he had been all this time.
These people who halted at nothing in order to elevate their weaknesses
to the highest place among the virtues, and to monopolise goodness on
earth--who called that good which was tame and soft and harmless,
because they themselves could only survive in litters of cotton wool;
who coloured the earth with the darkness _that_ was in their own bodies;
--who did not scruple to dub all manly and vital virtues odiously
sinful and wicked, and who preferred to set the life of the whole
world at stake, rather than acknowledge that it was precisely their
own second-rate, third-rate, or even fourth-rate, vitality which was
the greatest sin of all; who in one and the same breath preached their
utilitarian "universal love" to the powerful, and then sent them to
eternal damnation in another world: Nietzsche asks, are these people
the supporters of a noble or of a slave morality?
The answer is obvious, and we need not labour the point. But it was so
obvious to the lonely hermit, that the thought of it filled him with
horror and dread, and he was moved to leave his cell and to descend
into the plain, while there was yet time, with the object of urging us
to transvalue our values.
In Christian values, Nietzsche read nihilism, decadence, degeneration,
and death. They were calculated to favour the multiplication of the
least desirable on earth: and, as such, despite his antecedents,
and with his one desire, "the elevation of the type man," always
before him, he condemned Christian morality from top to bottom.
This magnificent attempt on the part of the low, the base, and the
worthless, to establish themselves as the most powerful on earth, must
be checked at all costs, and with terrible earnestness he exhorts us to
alter our values.
"O my brethren, with whom lieth the greatest danger to the whole human
future? Is it not with the good and the just?
"_Break up, break up, I pray you, the good and the just!_"
This condemnation of Christian values, as slave values--which
Nietzsche regarded as his greatest service to mankind--he says he
would write on all walls. He tells us he came just in the nick of time;
to-morrow might be too late.
"It is time for man to fix his goal. It is time for man to plant the
germ of his highest hope.
"His soil is still rich enough for that purpose. But that soil will one
day be too poor and exhausted, and no lofty tree will any longer be
able to grow thereon."[10]
[1] G. E., p. 227
[2] John xii. 25; 1 John ii. 15, 16; James iv. 4.
[3] Z., p. 249.
[4] G. M., 1st Essay, Aph. 7.
[5] Matthew v.
[6] Matthew xxiii. 39; Mark xiii. 31; Luke x. 27; Matthew v. 44.
[7] 2 Luke xviii. 7, 8; Romans xii. 19; Revelation vi. 10.
[8] I Corinthians i. 20, 21, 26, 27, 28.
[9] G. M., 1st Essay, Aph. 14. See also Epistle to the Hebrews xii. 6,
and Revelation iii. 19.
[10] Z., p. 12
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