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.—He had made everything too beautiful.3—The devil is merely the leisure of God on that seventh day.1Nobieman, gentleman.2Small facts.3Or: too beautifully.Genealogy of MoralsA PolemicRegarding expression, intention, and the art of surprise, the three inquiries which constitute this Genealogy are perhaps uncannier than anything else written so far.Dionysus is, as is known, also the god of darkness.Every time a beginning that is calculated to mislead: cool, scientific, even ironic, deliberately foreground, deliberately holding off.Gradually more unrest; sporadic lightning; very disagreeable truths are heard grumbling in the distance—until eventually a tempo feroce is attained in which everything rushes ahead in a tremendous tension.In the end, in the midst of perfectly gruesome detonations, a new truth becomes visible every time among thick clouds.The truth of the first inquiry is the birth of Christianity: the birth of Christianity out of the spirit of ressentiment, not, as people may believe, out of the “spirit”—a countermovement by its very nature, the great rebellion against the dominion of noble values.The second inquiry offers the psychology of the conscience—which is not, as people may believe, “the voice of God in man”: it is the instinct of cruelty that turns back after it can no longer discharge itself externally.Cruelty is here exposed for the first time as one of the most ancient and basic substrata of culture that simply cannot be imagined away.The third inquiry offers the answer to the question whence the ascetic ideal, the priests’ ideal, derives its tremendous power although it is the harmful ideal par excellence, a will to the end, an ideal of decadence.Answer: not, as people may believe, because God is at work behind the priests but faute de mieux1—because it was the only ideal so far, because it had no rival.“For man would rather will even nothingness than not will.”2—Above all, a counterideal was lacking—until Zarathustra.I have been understood.Three decisive preliminary studies by a psychologist for a revaluation of all values.—This book contains the first psychology of the priest.1Lacking something better.2An almost but not quite exact quotation of the last words of the book, found also—again a little differently—near the end of the first section of the third inquiry.Twilight of the IdolsHow One Philosophizes with a Hammer11This essay of less than 150 pages,2 cheerful and ominous in tone, a demon that laughs—the work of so few days that I hesitate to mention how many, is an exception among books: there is none richer in substance, more independent, more subversive3—more evil.If you want a quick idea how before me everything stood on its head,4 begin with this essay.What is called idol on the title page is simply what has been called truth so far.Twilight of the Idols—that is: the old truth is approaching its end.2There is no reality, no “ideality” that is not touched in this essay (touched: what a cautious euphemism!).Not only eternal idols, also the youngest which are therefore feeblest on account of their age.“Modern ideas,” for example.A great wind blows among the trees, and everywhere fruit fall down—truths.The squandering of an all-too-rich autumn: one stumbles over truths, one steps on and kills a few—there are too many.But what we get hold of is no longer anything questionable but rather decisions.I am the first to hold in my hands the measure for “truths;” I am the first who is able to decide.Just as if a second consciousness had grown in me; just as if “the will” had kindled a light for itself in me so that it might see the inclined plane, the askew path5 on which it went down so far.—The askew path—people called it the way to “truth.”It is all over with all “darkling aspiration;” precisely the good man was least aware of the right way.6— And in all seriousness: nobody before me knew the right way, the way up; it is only beginning with me that there are hopes again, tasks, ways that can be prescribed for culture—I am he that brings these glad tidings.— And thus I am also a destiny.—3Immediately upon finishing this work, without losing even one day, I attacked the tremendous task of the Revaluation,1 with a sovereign feeling of pride that was incomparable, certain at every moment of my immortality, engraving sign upon sign on bronze tablets with the sureness of a destiny.The Preface was written on September 3, 1888: when I stepped outdoors the morning after, I saw the most beautiful day that the Upper Engadine ever showed me—transparent, the colors glowing, including all opposites, everything that lies between ice and south.It was only on September 20 that I left Sils Maria, detained by floods—in the end by far the only guest of this wonderful place on which my gratitude wants to bestow an immortal name.After a journey with incidents, including some danger to my life in Como, which was flooded—I got there only late at night—I reached Turin on the afternoon of the 21st—my proven place, my residence from now on.I took the same apartment I had occupied in the spring, Via Carlo Alberto 6, fourth floor, opposite the imposing Palazzo Carignano in which Vittorio Emanuele2 was born, with a view of the Piazza Carlo Alberto and of the hills beyond.Without hesitation and without permitting myself to be distracted for a moment, I went back to work: only the final quarter of the work remained to be done.On the 30th of September, great victory; seventh day; the leisure of a god walking along the Po river.3 On the same day I wrote the Preface for Twilight of the Idols:4 correcting the printer’s proofs of that book had been my recreation in September.Never have I experienced such an autumn, nor considered anything of the sort possible on earth—a Claude Lorrain5 projected into the infinite, every day of the same indomitable perfection [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]