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Updated: June 2, 2025


A Good War Nietsche said, "You have heard that a good cause justifies any war, but I say unto you that a good war justifies any cause." A man was walking alone over a plain so desolate that, if you have never seen it, the mere word desolation could never convey to you the melancholy surroundings that mourned about this man on his lonely walk.

The virtue of mastery, on the other hand, lies in the power and in the attainment which it represents. And this Nietsche himself fully admits in his less inspired but more thoughtful utterances. It is "the constant struggle with uniform unfavorable conditions" that fixes the type he admires.

I will and I am obliged to know how to will something like the superhuman preached by Friedrich Nietsche. The baron's dwelling was not only original and fabulously expensive, but it had in itself besides, that which the Germans define by the word Stimmung.

This appeal, commonplace enough, but confident and true, sounds the note with which through all that follows I shall hope to keep in unison. It is because he professes to believe that morality is an imposture that must be smuggled into society behind the back of reason, that Nietsche makes a merit of its dulness.

Nietsche has no imagination for resistance, struggle, and victory, except as these arise in the war of man against man. His heroes are Alcibiades, Caesar, and Frederick II, "men predestined for conquering and circumventing others." But it is not easy for us of this day to forget the others; it is the cost to them that galls our conscience.

But, as Nietsche prefers not to comprehend, insurrection demonstrates beyond question the bankruptcy of aristocratic morality; discredits it as effectually, and in the same way, as new evidence discredits old theories.

The spirit of Nietsche is doubtless even now yawning mightily at such tedious moralizing; fresh proof of the "dull, gloomy seriousness," the hopeless stupidity of our sublunary virtue. I believe that Nietsche has frankly confessed the real grievance of his class of mischief makers.

In spite of his inferences, Nietsche has not described the matter falsely: The slave . . . loves as he hates, without nuance, to the very depths, to the point of pain, . . . his many hidden sufferings make him revolt against the noble taste which seems to deny suffering.

But as one of the demos of moral dullards, I get no little comfort from applying to Nietsche and Ibsen, and to certain prophet litterateurs of England, Burke's reproof of Lord Bolingbroke.

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