The Will to Power, Book III and IV


Page 64 of 80



[Pg 336]

915.

It is my desire to naturalise asceticism: I would substitute the old intention of asceticism, "self-denial," by my own intention, self-strengthening: a gymnastic of the will; a period of abstinence and occasional fasting of every kind, even in things intellectual; a casuistry in deeds, in regard to the opinions which we derive from our powers; we should try our hand at adventure and at deliberate dangers. (Dners chez Magny: all intellectual gourmets with spoilt stomachs.) Tests ought also to be devised for discovering a man's power in keeping his word.

916.

The things which have become spoilt through having been abused by the Church:—

(1) Asceticism.—People have scarcely got the courage yet to bring to light the natural utility and necessity of asceticism for the purpose of the education of the will. Our ridiculous world of education, before whose eyes the useful State official hovers as an ideal to be striven for, believes that it has completed its duty when it has instructed or trained the brain; it never even suspects that something else is first of all necessary —the education of will-power; tests are devised for everything except for the most important thing of all: whether a man can will, whether he can promise; the young man completes his education without a question or an inquiry having been[Pg 337] made concerning the problem of the highest value of his nature.

(2) Fasting:—In every sense—even as a means of maintaining the capacity for taking pleasure in all good things (for instance, to give up reading for a while, to hear no music for a while, to cease from being amiable for a while: one ought also to have fast days for one's virtues).

(3) The monastery.—Temporary isolation with severe seclusion from all letters, for instance; a kind of profound introspection and self-recovery, which does not go out of the way of "temptations," but out of the way of "duties"; a stepping out of the daily round of one's environment; a detachment from the tyranny of stimuli and external influences, which condemns us to expend our power only in reactions, and does not allow it to gather volume until it bursts into spontaneous activity (let anybody examine our scholars closely: they only think reflexively, i.e. they must first read before they can think).

(4) Feasts.—A man must be very coarse in order not to feel the presence of Christians and Christian values as oppressive, so oppressive as to send all festive moods to the devil. By feasts we understand: pride, high-spirits, exuberance; scorn of all kinds of seriousness and Philistinism; a divine saying of Yea to one's self, as the result of physical plenitude and perfection—all states to which the Christian cannot honestly say Yea. A feast is a pagan thing par excellence.

(5) The courage of ones own nature: dressing-up in morality,—To be able to call one's passions[Pg 338] good without the help of a moral formula: this is the standard which measures the extent to which a man is able to say Yea to his own nature, namely, how much or how little he has to have recourse to morality.

(6) Death.—The foolish physiological fact must be converted into a moral necessity. One should live in such a way that one may have the will to die at the right time!

917.

To feel ones self stronger or, expressed otherwise: happiness always presupposes a comparison (not necessarily with others, but with one's self, in the midst of a state of growth, and without being conscious that one is comparing).

Artificial accentuation: whether by means of exciting chemicals or exciting errors ("hallucinations.")

Take, for instance, the Christian's feeling of security; he feels himself strong in his confidence, in his patience, and his resignation: this artificial accentuation he owes to the fancy that he is protected by a God. Take the feeling of superiority, for instance: as when the Caliph of Morocco sees only globes on which his three united kingdoms cover four-fifths of the space. Take the feeling of uniqueness, for instance: as when the European imagines that culture belongs to Europe alone, and when he regards himself as a sort of abridged cosmic process; or, as when the Christian makes all existence revolve round the "Salvation of man."

The question is, where does one begin to feel the[Pg 339] pressure of constraint: it is thus that different degrees are ascertained. A philosopher for instance, in the midst of the coolest and most transmontane feats of abstraction feels like a fish that enters its element: while colours and tones oppress him; not to speak of those dumb desires—of that which others call "the ideal."

918.

A healthy and vigorous little boy will look up sarcastically if he be asked: "Wilt thou become virtuous?"—but he immediately becomes eager if he be asked: "Wilt thou become stronger than thy comrades?"

***

How does one become stronger?—By deciding slowly; and by holding firmly to the decision once it is made. Everything else follows of itself. Spontaneous and changeable natures: both species of the weak. We must not confound ourselves with them; we must feel distance—betimes!

Beware of good-natured people!. Dealings with them make one torpid. All environment is good which makes one exercise those defensive and; aggressive powers which are instinctive in man. All one's inventiveness should apply itself to putting one's power of will to the test.... Here the determining factor must be recognised as something which is not knowledge, astuteness, or wit.

One must learn to command betimes,—likewise to obey. A man must learn modesty and tact in[Pg 340] modesty: he must learn to distinguish and to honour where modesty is displayed; he must likewise distinguish and honour wherever he bestows his confidence.

What does one repent most? One's modesty; the fact that one has not lent an ear to one's most individual needs; the fact that one has mistaken one's self; the fact that one has esteemed one's self low; the fact that one has lost all delicacy of hearing in regard to one's instincts.—This want of reverence in regard to one's self is avenged by all sorts of losses: in health, friendship, well-being, pride, cheerfulness, freedom, determination, courage. A man never forgives himself, later on, for this want of genuine egoism: he regards it as an objection and as a cause of doubt concerning his real ego.

919.

I should like man to begin by respecting himself: everything else follows of itself. Naturally a man ceases from being anything to others in this way: for this is precisely what they are least likely to forgive. "What? a man who respects himself?"[4] This is something quite different from the blind instinct to love one's self. Nothing is more common in the love of the sexes or in that duality which is[Pg 341] called ego, than a certain contempt for that which is loved the fatalism of love.

[4] Cf. Disraeli in Tancred: "Self-respect, too, is a superstition of past ages.... It is not suited to these times; it is much too arrogant, too self-conceited, too egoistical. No one is important enough to have self-respect nowadays" (book iii. chap. v.).—Tr.



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