he bitter resentment of a
long-standing abuse. Therefore it took the form of an uprising against
the established order; and while it opened men's eyes, it was not
conducted in the spirit of enlightenment. {142} 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.
The scepticism with regard to suffering, fundamentally only an attitude
of an aristocratic morality, was not the least of the causes, also, of
the last great slave insurrection which began with the French
Revolution.[4]
Insurrection, in other words, is the flat, downright, and unqualified
affirmation of interests to which those in charge of affairs have
denied existence. It is a flash in the eyes of those who will not see;
a blast in the ears of those who will not hear. Insurrection asserts
_only_ the interests that have been neglected; hence, though it brings
_new_ light, that light for lack of which the world went in darkness,
it is careless and blind in its own way, and does not concern itself
with restoring the balance. 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.
These, then, are the two complementary methods through which
rationality gets itself progressively established: through the
imagination and foresight of constructive minds, and through the
protest or uprising of neglected interests.
{143}
I must mention briefly, before leaving this general topic, an accessory
condition on which this internal principle of progress depends for its
effectual working. It is necessary that the life of society should be
unbroken; that its achievements should be preserved and accumulated
from generation to generation. This is provided for in the permanence
of records, monuments, and institutions; but these are of less
consequence than the _continuity of tradition_. Generations of men do
not come into being and pass away like regiments in marching order.
There is no present generation; unless one arbitrarily selects those of
a certain age to represent the spirit of the day. He who is born now,
enters into the midst of a social life in which the present is b
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