Translator’s Preface

4 min

The Twilight of the Idols was written towards the end of the summer of 1888, its composition seems to have occupied only a few days,—so few indeed that, in Ecce Homo (p. 118), Nietzsche says he hesitates to give their number; but, in any case, we know it was completed on the 3rd of September in Sils Maria. The manuscript which was dispatched to the printers on the 7th of September bore the title: “Idle Hours of a Psychologist”; this, however, was abandoned in favour of the present title, while the work was going through the press. During September and the early part of October 1888, Nietzsche added to the original contents of the book by inserting the whole section entitled “Things the Germans Lack,” and aphorisms 32-43 of “Skirmishes in a War with the Age”; and the book, as it now stands, represents exactly the form in which Nietzsche intended to publish it in the course of the year 1889. Unfortunately its author was already stricken down with illness when the work first appeared at the end of January 1889, and he was denied the joy of seeing it run into nine editions, of one thousand each, before his death in 1900.

The Twilight of the Idols was written toward the end of the summer of 1888. Nietzsche seems to have written it in only a few days. In fact, in Ecce Homo (p. 118), he says he hesitates to give the number. In any case, we know he completed it on September 3 in Sils Maria. The manuscript sent to the printers on September 7 was titled “Idle Hours of a Psychologist”. But while the book was being printed, this title was dropped in favor of the present one. During September and early October 1888, Nietzsche added to the book’s original contents. He inserted the whole section titled “Things the Germans Lack” and aphorisms 32 to 43 of “Skirmishes in a War with the Age”. The book as it now stands is exactly as Nietzsche intended to publish it during 1889. Unfortunately, he was already seriously ill when the book first appeared at the end of January 1889. He was denied the joy of seeing it go through nine editions of one thousand copies each before his death in 1900.

Of The Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche says in Ecce Homo (p. 118):—“If anyone should desire to obtain a rapid sketch of how everything before my time was standing on its head, he should begin reading me in this book. That which is called ‘Idols’ on the title-page is simply the old truth that has been believed in hitherto. In plain English, The Twilight of the Idols means that the old truth is on its last legs.”

In Ecce Homo (p. 118), Nietzsche says of The Twilight of the Idols: “If anyone wants a quick sketch of how everything before my time was standing on its head, they should start reading me with this book. The ‘Idols’ in the title are simply the old truth that people have believed until now. In plain English, The Twilight of the Idols means that the old truth is on its last legs.”

Certain it is that, for a rapid survey of the whole of Nietzsche’s doctrine, no book, save perhaps the section entitled “Of Old and New Tables” in Thus Spake Zarathustra, could be of more real value than The Twilight of the Idols. Here Nietzsche is quite at his best. He is ripe for the marvellous feat of the transvaluation of all values. Nowhere is his language—that marvellous weapon which in his hand became at once so supple and so murderous—more forcible and more condensed. Nowhere are his thoughts more profound. But all this does not by any means imply that this book is the easiest of Nietzsche’s works. On the contrary, I very much fear that, unless the reader is well prepared, not only in Nietzscheism, but also in the habit of grappling with uncommon and elusive problems, a good deal of the contents of this work will tend rather to confuse than to enlighten him in regard to what Nietzsche actually wishes to make clear in these pages.

For a quick survey of Nietzsche’s whole doctrine, no book is more valuable than The Twilight of the Idols. The only possible exception is the section called “Of Old and New Tables” in Thus Spake Zarathustra. Here Nietzsche is at his very best. He is ready for the marvelous feat of the transvaluation of all values. Nowhere is his language more forceful or concise. In his hands, language became a marvelous weapon, both flexible and deadly. Nowhere are his thoughts more profound. But none of this means that this book is the easiest of Nietzsche’s works. On the contrary, I fear that much of it will confuse rather than enlighten readers about what Nietzsche wants to explain here. Readers must be well prepared, both in Nietzscheism and in the habit of wrestling with unusual and elusive problems.

How much prejudice, for instance, how many traditional and deep-seated opinions, must be uprooted, if we are to see even so much as an important note of interrogation in the section entitled “The Problem of Socrates”—not to speak of such sections as “Morality as the Enemy of Nature,” “The Four Great Errors,” &c. The errors exposed in these sections have a tradition of two thousand years behind them; and only a fantastic dreamer could expect them to be eradicated by a mere casual study of these pages. Indeed, Nietzsche himself looked forward only to a gradual change in the general view of the questions he discussed; he knew only too well what the conversion of “light heads” was worth, and what kind of man would probably be the first to rush into his arms; and, grand psychologist that he was, he guarded himself beforehand against bad company by means of his famous warning:—“The first adherents of a creed do not prove anything against it.”

How much prejudice, for example, how many traditional and deeply held beliefs, must we uproot? We must uproot them even to see an important question in the section called “The Problem of Socrates.” And that is not to mention sections such as “Morality as the Enemy of Nature,” “The Four Great Errors,” and others. The errors exposed in these sections are backed by two thousand years of tradition. Only a fanciful dreamer could expect to eradicate them by casually reading these pages. Indeed, Nietzsche himself expected only a gradual change in how people generally viewed the questions he discussed. He knew only too well what the conversion of “light heads” was worth. He also knew what kind of man would probably be the first to rush into his arms. As the great psychologist he was, he guarded himself in advance against bad company with his famous warning: “The first adherents of a creed do not prove anything against it.”

To the aspiring student of Nietzsche, however, it ought not to be necessary to become an immediate convert in order to be interested in the treasure of thought which Nietzsche here lavishes upon us. For such a man it will be quite difficult enough to regard the questions raised in this work as actual problems. Once, however, he has succeeded in doing this, and has given his imagination time to play round these questions as problems, the particular turn or twist that Nietzsche gives to their elucidation, may then perhaps strike him, not only as valuable, but as absolutely necessary.

However, a student of Nietzsche need not become an immediate convert to appreciate the wealth of thought he offers us here. For such a student, it will be difficult enough to see the questions raised in this work as real problems. But once he has done so, and has given his imagination time to explore these questions as problems, he may find Nietzsche’s particular way of explaining them not only valuable, but absolutely necessary.

With regard to the substance of The Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche says in Ecce Homo (p. 119):—“There is the waste of an all-too-rich autumn in this book: you trip over truths. You even crush some to death, there are too many of them.”

About the content of The Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche says in Ecce Homo (p. 119): “This book has the excess of an all-too-rich autumn. You trip over truths. You even crush some to death, because there are too many of them.”

And what are these truths? They are things that are not yet held to be true. They are the utterances of a man who, as a single exception, escaped for a while the general insanity of Europe, with its blind idealism in the midst of squalor, with its unscrupulous praise of so-called “Progress” while it stood knee-deep in the belittlement of “Man,” and with its vulgar levity in the face of effeminacy and decay;—they are the utterances of one who voiced the hopes, the aims, and the realities of another world, not of an ideal world, not of a world beyond, but of a real world, of this world regenerated and reorganised upon a sounder, a more virile, and a more orderly basis,—in fact, of a perfectly possible world, one that has already existed in the past, and could exist again, if only the stupendous revolution of a transvaluation of all values were made possible.

And what are these truths? They are things not yet accepted as true. They are the words of a man who, alone, escaped the general madness of Europe for a time. Europe was blindly idealistic amid squalor. It shamelessly praised so-called “Progress” while knee-deep in the belittlement of “Man.” It treated effeminacy and decay with vulgar frivolity. This man spoke of the hopes, aims, and realities of another world. It was not an ideal world or a world beyond. It was a real world, this world renewed and reorganized on a sounder, more virile, and more orderly basis. In fact, it was a perfectly possible world. Such a world has existed before and could exist again, if only the tremendous revolution of a transvaluation of all values were made possible.

This then is the nature of the truths uttered by this one sane man in the whole of Europe at the end of last century; and when, owing to his unequal struggle against the overwhelming hostile forces of his time, his highly sensitive personality was at last forced to surrender itself to the enemy and become one with them—that is to say, insane!—at least the record of his sanity had been safely stored away, beyond the reach of time and change, in the volumes which constitute his life-work.

Such, then, were the truths spoken by the one sane man in all of Europe at the end of the last century. He fought an unequal struggle against the overwhelming hostile forces of his time. At last, his highly sensitive nature was forced to surrender to the enemy and become one with them. In other words, he became insane! But at least the record of his sanity had been safely stored beyond the reach of time and change. It was preserved in the volumes that make up his life’s work.

ANTHONY M. LUDOVICI.