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THE PONTABLE NIE]ZSCHE Each volumein Tte Viking PortableLibnry either presents a representativeselection from the worksof a singleoutstandingwriter or ofiers a comprehensiveanthology on a specialsubjecLAveraging7oopagesin length and readabil' and designedfor compachress met by othel not need ffll a books these ity, compilations.AII are eclitedby distinguished authorities, who have written inboductory essaysand inclutled much other helpfut naterial. 'Ihe Viking Portableshave done more for goodreadingand goodwriters than anytling tbat has comealong sinceI can remember.o -ArtbnrMizeoer
SomeVolumesin THE VIKING PORTABLELIBMRY MARKTWAIN EditedbyBernardDevoto.
ots.oror
RABELAIS Selected eDd trettslated by Samuel Putnam. or5,ozr E EIUERSON Eclited by Mark Van Doren, or5.ot! o BLAKE Edited by Alhed Kazin. or5.oe6 9 THOREAU Edited by Carl Bode. or5,ogr J CHEKHOV Selectedand translated by Awahm Yarrroliosty. or5.ogS E PLATO EditedbyScottBuchanan, or5.o4o 4 VOLTAIRE Edited by Ben Ray Redman, or5,o4r t MILTON Edited by Douglas Bush. ors,o44 7 ROMAN READEN Edited by Basil Davenport, 016,056 o CERVANTES Edited by SamuelPutnam. or5,o5z 9 GIBBON Edited by Dero A, Saunders. org,o6o 9 AGE OF REASON READER Edited by Crane Brinton. o15.o63 g THE CRESK HISTORIANS Edited by M, I. Finley. o15.o65 r VICTORIAN READER Edited by Gordon S. Haight. o15.o69 r .
JUNG ECited by JosepbCampbell. or5.o7o 6 ANTHUR MILLER Edited by Hsrold Clurmaa. orJ.oTt 4 NABOKOV Editedby PageStegner. or5.oTg o
TIIOMAS IEFFENSON Edited by Merrill D. Peterson. or5.o8o 3 CHAI.ICER Edited and translated by Theodore Morricon. Revisededition. or5.oEr BERNARD SHAW Eclitcd by St6nleyWeintraub. org,ogo o
T H E PO N T A B I . E
NIETZSCHE SELECTED AND TRANSLATED, WITII AN I N T R O D U C T I O N ,P N E F A C E S ,A N D N O T E S , BY
WALTER KAUFMANN
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Publishedby the PensuinGrouo Vihng PenguinInc., 4o Westz3rd Street,IVewYork,irlewyork tooro, U.S.A. PenguinBooksLtd, zzWliehts Lane, London W8 sTZ, Eneland PenguinBooksAustraliaLtd, Ringwood,Victorii, AustraTia PenguinDooksCanadaLt{ z8or John Street, Markham,Ontario, CanadaLrR rBa PenguinBooks-(N.Z)Ltd, r8z-rgo WairadRoad, Aucklandro, New Zealand PenguinBooksLtd, RegisteredOflices: Haimondsworth,Middlesex,England First published in the Unitetl Statesof America by The Viking Press1954 Paperboundedition published1959 ( Reprintedr g5g twice ), r 96o ( twice ), 196r-(1hreetimes), 196z (twice), 196A(twice), 1964 (twice),rg65 (twice), 1966 (twice), 1967 (twice), 1968 (threetimes),rg6g (threetimes), rgTo ( tbree times), rgTr ( three tirres ), r9Z2 ( three times),
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Reprintedrg7 1978,rg79, i98o, r98r, r9'6i (twice),1983, 1984,1985,1986,1987,1988 Copyright rqs+ bv The Vikine Press.Inc. Coriyriglt @"ihe Vikine F eri, ln", tqOA Copyright @ renewed.rg8zby Vking pen$rin Inc. AU r8hts reserved. L!8BARY
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DATA
Nietzsche,Friedrich Wilhelm, r gaa-rqoo. -' The ponable Nietzsche. Reprint tt gT of the p,itUstt"a pubUsh-ed r9s4 1954 ed. b-yThe Viking press,New york, the wruch was rssuedas no. 6z of Viking portable library. : p.688. works. I. Title.
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P,rintedin the United Statesof Americaby KingsportPress,Inc,, Kingsport,Tennissie Setin Linotype Caledonia Except in the United Statesof America. this book is sokl subiect to Orecondition - that it shall not, by,way of trade or othern"ise, be lent, re-sold,hired out, or otherwisecirculatbd 9i[16rr! t]re publisher's prior consentin any form of binding or coverother than that in whi;h it is published andwithout a similar condition including this conditionbeing imposed on the subsequentpurchasei
To Eprtn KeurrvreNrg Wenn's etaas gibt, gewalt'ger als das Schlcltsal, 8o t*'e iler Mut, d,eic unetschii"" #k
Acknowledgments All the translationsin this volume are n€% excep for some passagesthat have previously appeared in my Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist. Princeton University Presshas generouslygiven permissionfor their use here. But even these passageshave been revised, and, wherever feasible, I have made available other aphorismsand letters instead of reproducing material already available in that book. In the Introduction and editorial matter too, Princeton University Press has kindly permitted reliance on my Nietzschi, But whereas tbat book sought to explode the legends woven around Nietzsche and to analyze the break with Wagner, the relation to Lou Salom6and to his sister, the ffnal madness,and, above all, his philosophy,psychology, and critique of Christianity,the editorial matter in the present volume has been wholly subordinateilto the translations. Nietzschehimself is to speak,and no lengthy editorial reflections seemedworth a correspondingcut in the spaceallotted to him. I am greatly indebted to Princeton University for a year's leave of absence,which enabled me, among other things, to complete this volume; to Jean Yolton, for generoushelp with pioofs; and to Hazel and Felix Kaufmann, my wife and my brother, for many helpful criticisms, particularly of my translatioo of Zatathustra \M. K.
Contents InrnopucrroN Chronolog;l Bibtogaphy
I 20 24
Letter to His Sister Fragmentof a Critique of Schopenharrer \ On Ethics Note ( r87o-7r) From Homer'sContest Notes (1873) Frotn On Truth and Lie in an Extra-MoralSense Notesabout Wagner Notes (1874) Notes(1875) Fronr Human, All-Too-Human From Mixed Opinionsand Maxims FrontT\e Wandererand His Shadow Letter to Overbeck Notes(r88o-8r) From The Dawn Postcardto Overbeck From The Gay Science Draft of a Letter to Paul R6e
29 3o 3o 3' 32 39 4t 47 q8 48 51
6+
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Tmls Spors Zenerrrus'rre Editor's Preface Contents First Part SecondPart Thtud Part Fourth and Iast Part
rr5 t9r z6o 343
Note (1884)
440 ix
ro3 tLlt
x Letters
CONTENTS
To Overbeck To His Sister To Overbeck Notes From a Draft for a Preface From BeyondCood and Evil FrornTheGay Science:BookV FromTowarda Genealogyof Morals Letter to Overbeck Notes( 1887) Letter to His Sister Notes( 1888) FromThe WagnerCase
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Editions of Nietzsche
688
INTRODUGTION thero are philosopherswho can write and philosophers who cannot.Most of the great philosophersbelong to the ffrst group. There are also, much more rarely, phiwho can write too well for their own goodlosop.hers as philosophers.Plato lvrote so dramaticallythat we shall never know for sure what preciselyhe himself thought about any numberof guestions.And Nietzsche furnishesa more recent and no lessstriking example. His philosophycan be determined,brrt his brilliant epigramsand metaphors,his sparkling polemicsand ceaselessstylistic experiments,make it rather difficult to do so; and to read him solely to reconstructthe world of his ideaswould be obtusepedantry.At least two things should.come ffrst: sheer enjoyment of his writing, and then the morehanowing experienceof exWe perspectives. posingoneselfto his many passionate shouldnot rashly take a well-phrasedpoint for.Nietzsche'sultimate position, but we often stand to gain if we askourselvesu:hy it shouldnot be ours. Add to this that few writers in any agewere so full of ideas-fruitful, if not acceptable-and it is clear why he has steadily exerted a unique fascination on the most diverse minds and why he is still so eminently worth reading. An inthologist can easilyre-createNietzschein his own image,evenas writers of lives of Jesuspresentus, perhaps as often as not, with wishful self-porbaits. I
INTRODUCTION 2 DoubtlessNietzschehas attracted crackpotsand vilIains,but pelhapsthe percentageis no higher than in the caseof Jesus.As Maritain has said: "If bookswere iudged by the bad usesman can put them to, what book has been more misusedthan the Bible?" The presentvolumeis not an anthology.It contains the eompleteand unabridgedtexts of four of Nietzsche'sworks; and the additional selectionsfrom his otherbooks,notes,and lettersaim to round out the picture of his development,his versatility,his inexhaus6 bility. There is much here that is surely admirable: And there formulations,epigrams,insights,suggestions. tlrat invite is much that is shocking:bathos,sentences quotation out oJ context in support of hideous causes, silly arguments-and many will recoil from his abun*readey'sdigest" of dant blasphemies.For this is no oessential Nietzsche,"no distillationand Nietzsche,no no rvhitervash,but an attempt to Presentas much as possibleof him in one small volume.The book can of coursebe read like Bartlettt Familiar Quotations,but what one gets out of Nietzschemay be vaguely pro' poftionateto the sustainedattentionone accordshim. The arrangementis chronological,and an effort has been made to give someidea of the developmentof Nietzschet thought and style, from his artlessearly brilliant aphorisms;then to the notesto his occasionally of Zarathustra;the incisive proseof grossunbvenness his last works;and the altemationof diabolicalpolemic and furious rhetoric in The Anticltist. ln Nietzsche contra Wagner, calm returns as Nietzschetakes time for onceto edit someof his earlierproseand in places achievesperfection.His last letters,rvritten right after his breakdown,reflect the disintegrationof his mind, but they are still meaningful.The rest is silence.
INTRODUCTION II
the neu' translationswere made becausethe older onesare unacceptable. As a single,and admittedlyextreme, example,the hitherto standardversion of.7,arathustra is discussedbriefly in the editor's preface to that work. Great writers are far more difficult to transpose into anotherlanguagethan is usually supposed, and Nietzscheposesmany additionaldifficulties.While any detailed discussionof principles of translation would lead too far, a few remarks may prove helpfuL Rather than flatten out Nietzsche'shighly unusual German into stereotypedidioms, an effort has been made to preserveas much as possibleof his cadenees, even where they are awkwardly groping or overshained.What is thus lost in smoothness is gainedfor the understandingof the developmentof his style antl personality. A few of his terms create special difficulties; for example, Geist. To be perfectly idiomatic, one would have to render it now as spirit, now as mind, now as intellect, now as wit. But generallythe connotationof Geist is much more inclusive than that of any one of thesewords,and Nietzschetmeaningdependson this. If we select"spirit'in one sentenceand'wit" in another, somethingessentialis lostr we get smoothpropositions, not Nietzsche.Hence it seemedimportant to stick to one English word; and "spirit' was chosen. The religious overtonesare entirely in order and altogether indispensablefor an understandingof many paradoxical passages,particularly in The Antichrtst; but it is well to keep in mind that the meaningis sometimes closerto esprrit.
4
INTRODUCTION
Mitleid has almost invariably been rendered by 'compassion" "pity,- although would have the advan'suffering tage that it too means literally with." The two English terms, however, do not have entirely the same meaning, and it is no accident that Aristotle, Spinoza, and La Rochefoucauld, of whose precedent Nietzsche makes much, have all been translated in the past as criticizing'pW." And "pity" alone suggeststhe strong possibility of obtrusiveness and condescension apart from which Nietzschet repugnance cannot be understood. Again, it would not do to alternate the terms: pity, as Zarathusba's "ffnal sin," is one of the central themes of Part Four, in which many statements about pity in Part Two are quoted or alluded to; and such later works as Twilight of the lilols and The Anti.christ expUcate the symbolism ,of T.arathustra. Nietzsche, in short, is not only a brilliant writer but also a philosopher who employs certain key terms, which must be rendered consistently. But the problem is even more deeply rooted than has been suggestedso far. After publication, many writers cut the umbilical cord and are ready for another conception. Nietzsche's works, however, are not independent creations. In the ffrst place, Nietzsche wrote, to use his own phrase, with his blood: each book is part of the man, and the resulting existential unity makes all of them part of a single work. Each aphorism looks as if it could be understood by itself-and up to a point, of course, it can be-but in fact not even the books can be understood in isolation from one another. Nietzsche himself insisted on this point and underlined it by frequent quo' tations from, and allusions to, his earlier works. These internal echoes add essential overtones and are important clues to Nietzsche's meaning. This is another rea-
INTRODUCTION 5 son for consistencyin translating certain words ancl -phrases. That Nietache did not dissociatehimself from his published works but kept living with them is surely due in part to the fact that publicationwas in no case a major experience:for all the responsehe got or rather did not get, the books might just as well never have beenpublishedat all. They dicl not becomepublic property but remainedhis own-as children who fail 1o ffnd a place in the rvorld continueto be of special concern to their parents. The self-quotationsare sometimes,at least in part, attemptsto advertisehimself. But it is far more fruitful to look at them, and at 'the'far more numerousallusions,as leitmotifs. Taking their cue from lVagner's leitmotifs, It{artin have pointed out, in conBuber and Franz Rosenzweig nection with their remarkableGerman translation of the HebrervScriptures,that the style of the Old Testament often depends on Leituotte, words which are central and particularly emphasizedin one passage anil then picked up again elsewhere,thus establishing an unobtrusive cross reference-an associationrvhiclq even if only dimly felt, adds dimensionto the meaning. Perhapsno major rvriter is as biblical in this respectas Nietzsche. A professorof philosophywho favored my Nietzsche 'in with a most flattering review regretted one lapse linguistic usage"-"the most unkindest cut of all." of course,is generallybetter knorvnthan Shakespeare, this, but some apparent lapsesin this volume might well be due to the lact that Nietzscheknerv the Bible so much better than many people today. Certainly he knew it i:etter than one ofhii chief translators,ivho 'toll-grtherers," convertedpublicans into the Last Sup'un'7he Supperr' "unknoln god" into per into
INTRODUCTION 6 familiar godi and so on. When Zarathustraspeaksof trying the reins, the archaismis surely preferableto having him test kidneys. Nietzsche'sstyle is not Teutonicbut European,and. more than that: he alludes freely to the books that consdtuteour Westernheritage,from Homer to Dostoevski, and he sprinkleshis prose with French and Latin phrases.Thereis somethingvery modernin this: in his own phrase,Nietzschewas indeeda good European. But he never comesas close to patchwork as Eliot in The Waste Land., and he holds a reasonable mean betweenthe cryptogramsof the later Joyceand the obtrusive erudition of Toynbee, who underlines every allusionto the Bible with a footnote.Moreover, Nietzsche,unlike Joyce,almost invariably suppliesa surfacemeaningtoo, and recognitionof his allusions style of writing and thinkrevealsa multi-dimensional ing, unlike Toynbee's. It is not only his attitudetoward religionthat ranges Nietzsehefar closer to Joyce than to Toynbee: there is alsohis addiction to plays on words, which probably posesthe greatestsingleproblem for the translator,especially in Zarathustra.But more of that in the editor's prefacato that work. SufBceit to say here that it is impossibleto be faithful to the contentwhile sacrificing the form: meaningand mood are inseparable.If the translator makes things easy for himself and omits a play on words, he unwittingly makes a lighthea*ed pun or rhyme look serious,if he doesnot reducethe And he abetsthe common whole passageto nonsense. the Nietzsche,when, in fact, of austere misconception no other philosopherknew better how to laugh at himself. Those who browse in this volume will ffnil a conglomeration where anyone reading it straight tbrough
INTRODUCTION 7 all men of fascinating the most one of ffnd likely will time: a man as multi-dimensionalas his sty'le,profound and then againpiteous,as tragic as he is widely supposedto have been, but no lesscomic-almost as differentfrom his popularcaricaturesas a characterin Shakespeare,or mbre likely in Dostoevslci,is from the comic itrip version of Superman.In his own formula: Ecce homo! m Nietzschewas bom in 1844; lost his father, a Lu' theran minister, in r84g; spent his childhood surrounded by his mother, sister,grandmother,and two maiden aunts;was sent to a ffrst-rateboardingschool, Schulpforta;and proceededto the universitiesof Bonn and Leipzig to study classicalphilology. Our lmowledge of his youth restslargely on his sister'slater ha$' ogiaphies, but the twenty-four-year-oldcomes to life that earnedhim a pro' for us in the recommendation fessorshipat Basel.The writer was Friedrich Ritschl,a professorat Leipzig. conservative generally "However many young talents I have seendevelop under my eyes for thirty-nine years now, neoer-get have I known a young man, or tried to help one along in my ffeld as best I could, who u'as so mature as early and as young as this Nietzsche.His Museurnarticles he wrote in the secondand third year of his triennium. He is the ffrst from whom I have ever acceptedany contribution at all while he was still a student. IfGod grant-he lives long enough, I prophesy that he will one day stand in the front rank of Germanphilol' ogy. He is now twenty-fouryearsold: strong,vigorous, healthy, courageousphysically and moralln so consti' tuted as to impressthoseof a similar nature. On top
TNTRODUCTION of that, he possessesthe enviable gift of presenting ideas, talking freely, as calmly as he speaks skillfully and clearly. He is the idol and, without wishing it, the leader of the whole younger generation of philologists they are rather nume here in Leipzig wheand cannot wait to hear him as a lecturer. You will say, I describe a phenomenon. Well, that is just what he isand at the same time pleasant and modest. Also a gifted musician, which is irrelevant here." But Nietzsche had not yet fulfilled his residence requirement and hence had no doctorate, So Ritschl ex'hlthough in the present pected the caseto be hopeless, instance," he wrote, "I should stake my whole philological and academic reputation that the matter would work out happily." It is hardly surprising that Basel decided to ignore the "formal insuficiency." Ritschl was delighted: "In Germang, that sort of thing happens absolutely never.' And he felt he should further describe his prot6g6. "Nietzsche is not at all a speciffcally political nature. He may have in general, on the whole, some sympathy for the growing greatnessof Germany, but, like myself, no special tendre for Prussianism; yet he has vivid feeling for free civic and spiritual development, and thus certainly a heart for your Swiss institutions and way of living, What more am I to say? His studies so far have been weighted toward the history of Greek Iiterature (of course, including critical and exegetical' treatment of 'the authors), with special emphasis, it seems to me, on the history of Greek philosophy. But I have not the least doubt that, if conftonted by a practical demand. with his great gifts he will work in other ffelds with the best of success.He will simply be able to do anything he wants to do." Nietzsche was quite ready to work in other ffelds.
INTRODUCTION 9 as well as Greek philosoHe had read Schopenhauer phy; he was deeply moved by Wagner's music, especially the "shivery and sweet inffnity" of. Tdstan; and. no doctor'sdegree,conferredhuniedly without examination, and no professorshipcould for a moment give him the idea that he had "arrived." He was very conscientiouswhen it came to his varied teaching duties and carried an exceedinglyheavy load without demur, but his mind soaredbeyondthe academicpale, and his ffrst book was not designedto place him in tle front rank of German philology. His yearsat Basel,where Nietzschewas the younger colleagueof JacobBurckhardtand of Franz Overbec\ who remained his lifelong friend, were soon intermpted by the Franco-PrussianWar. Nietzsche,by now a Swisssubject,volunteeredas a medical orderly and served briefly before returning in shattered health. Without waiting for completerecoveryhe plungedinto an even heavier schedulethan before and divideil his remaining time between visits to Richard Wagner in Tribschen,near Luceme, and his ffrst book, published in t87z; The Birth of Tragedy,The topic was the sudden birth and no lesssuddendeath of tragedy among the Greeks.The thesis:born of music,it aied of thai rationalismwhich found its outstandingincarnationin Socratesand which is evident in the works of Euripides.The significance:an iconoclasticconceptionof the Greeks,far removedfrom the 'hoble simplicity and calm grandeur" of Winckelmannand Goethe,then still popular. The stfe: an essay,now brilliant, now florid -without_ any scholarly apparatus.The greatestweakness: to the fffteen sectionson Greek tragedn Nietzscheaddedanotherten on Wagnerand hii new music dramas,thus giving the whole work the appearaneeof merespecialpleadingfor his jdol. Fort.i yearslater the
INTRODUCTION IO great British classicistF. M. Cornfordwas to hail the 'h bsok as work of profoundimaginativeinsight,which of a generation toiling in the rear." left the lologists of Nietzsche's own generaBut most of the What it is best tiorr consideredpreposterous. knon'n for today is its contrastbehveenthe Apollinian (the serenesenseof proportion which Winckelmann had so admiredand which found its crowningexpression in Greeksculpture)and the Dionysian(that fooil which breaks through all restraintsin the Dionysian festivalsand rvhich ffnds artistic expressionin music). In Nietzschet later works the Dionysian no longer signiffesthe llood of passion,but passioncontrolledas opposerlto passionextirpated,the latter being associated with Christianity. In the foll
INTRODUCTION 11 each prefaceil by a brief editorial note-a little longer in the caseof worksofferedunabridged. There are, ffrst, the aphoristicworks,beginningrvith Human,Hl-Too-Humanand endingwith The Gay Sci' ence.The trvo great eventsin this period of Nietzschet life rvere his break with Wagner and his departure from the university. When the composer,no longer the lonely genius of Tribschen,becamethe center of a cult at Bay'reuth,and his influence was widely felt not only in mus'tcis,Nietzscheleft him. The jingoism which had seemedrelativelyunimand anti-Semitism, now called for a clear idiosyncrasies, portant personal stand. I{oreover Wagner,fond of Nietzscheas a brilliant and lilcableprofessorialally, had no interestin him as a writer and thinker in his own right and stoodin the way of Nietzsche'sdevelopment.Thesefactors,rather than Nietzsche'sgrowing reservationsabout Wagnert music,precipitatedthe breach.Parsifalmerelysealedit -and not becauseit was Christianbut becauseNietzsche consideredit an essentiallyinsincereobeisance. Wagner,the discipleof Feuerbachand Schopenhauer, the two great atheists,used medievalChristianityfor theatrical effect; the self-styledmodern Aeschylusgloriffed the anUthesisof all Greekideals,the'pure fool"; a composeru'hose personalworldly ambition knew no bounds wrote Pcrsifal. If the friendship had given Nietzschesome of the happiestdays of his life, the break was one of his most painful e4periences;and if tthepersonalcontacthad doneits shareto raisehis horizon beyondphilologyand classicalantiguity,the breach spuned his ambition to rival and excel the composer and dramatistas a writer and philosopher. When Nietzscheresignedfrom the universityin r87g he claimedill health, which was true enough,and he obtaineda pension.Clearly,however,he alsofelt that
INTRODUCTION 12 his further development calleil for a break with his academic career as a professor of philology. Instead of returning to Germany, he spent most of the rest of his active Iife in Switzerland and Italylonely, pain-racked writing. In r88z he thought for a short while that he had perhaps found a companion and intellectual heir-a Plato who might fashion his many stimulating suggestionsinto a great philosophy: a young woman, born in St. Petersburg in 186r, unquestionably of extraordinary intellectual and artistic endowment. But Lou Srrlom6,who was later to become Rilke's beloved, and still later a close friend of Freud, was then, at twenty-one, much more interested in another young philosopher, Paul Rde. Her walks and talks with Nietzsche meant less to her; but he never found another human being to whom he could expound his inmost ideas as in those few weeks. After Lou left he made his ffrst attempt to put down his philosophy-not merely sundry observations-in one major wo,rk: Zarathustra, tIe still did not proceed systematically, and though the style reveals a decided change from the essays of his ffrst period and the aphorisms of the . secend, it is less philosophic than ever. Rhapsody, satire, and epigram predominate; but Nietzsche's mature thought is clouded and shrouded by'an excessof adolescent emotion. Nevertheless, despite the all-too-human self-pity aud occasional bathos, the book is full of fascinating ideas; and probably it owes its unique successwith the broad mass of readers not least to its worst qualities. The book consists of font parts, originally published separately, nrd more werc plirunecl. Ilut Nietzsche calmeto realize that this style was not adequate for his purposes, ancl he returned io his earliel aphoristic style,
INTRODUCTION 13 his Cooil and Eodl, though with a difference. Begond nextbook,is muchmorecontinuousthan appearsat first glance;and the Genealagyof Morals is composedof threeinquirieswhich might well be calledessays. All the while, Nietzscheassemblednotesfor a more comprehensivework which he thought of calling The WiIl to Powpr. But he never got beyond thosenotes; and the worlclater publishedby his sisterunder that title is nothing but an utterly uncritical collection of some of Nietzsche'snotes, inclu&ng many he had already used, often with signiffcant changes,in his later works. This fabrication, though it certainly contains somehighly interestingmaterial,must by no mearut be consideredhis last or his main work. In 1888 Nietzsche dashed off a brilliantly sarcastic polemic, The Wagwr Ccsa, which was followed by a hundred-pageepitomeof his thought, Tuilight of the lilnls. Then he gave up his intention of writing The WiII to PorDer,decided to write a much shorter cMdoewtre instead, under the title Reoaluation of All Val:ues,and completedthe ffrst of four projected parts: The Antichrist No soonerwas this finished on a high pitch of rhetoric than he turned around and, on the same day, wrote the relatively calm preface tor Twilight of the ldols; and, still in the sameyear, one of the world's strangest autobiographicalworks, Ecce Homo. On ChristmasDay, 1888, he completed Ntetrsch,econtraWagner-and lessthan two weekslater be broke down, insane. His madnesswas in all probability an afirical general paresis.If so, he must havehad syphilis;and since he is known to have lived a highly ascetic life, it is supposedthat, as a student, he had visited a brothel once or twice. This has never been substantiated, and
INTRODUCTION 14 any detailed accountsof such experiencesare either poetry or pornography-not biography. Nor has the suggesHonever been disprovedthat he may have been infected while nursing wounded soldiersin r87o. IV
It was only after his active life was over that Nietzsche'sreal careerbegan.When he died in rgoo he was world-famous and the center of a growing literature, of controversiesin periodicals and newspaper$-an oinfluence." He has been discussedand written.about ever since, in connectionwith Darwin, Schopenhauer, psychoanalysis, modern Germanpoeby, World War I, Spengler,Christianity,Tolstoi, the Nazis,World War II, existentialism-and whatever else was needed to ftll hundreds upon hundreds of volumes about him. Nietzsche'simpact ls as manifold as his prose, and .mostinteqpretersselecta singlestrain or style, whether for praise or blamg quite unawarethat there are more. It might be best not even to think in terms of influs11ss'-s word that simpliffes the multifarious complexities of history after the manner of Procrustes.In any case,no other Germanwriter of equal stafure has beenso thoroughly opposedto all proto-nazisnr-whieh Nietzscheencounteredin Wagner'sideologicalhacts, in his sister'sbusband,BemhardFiirster, and in various publicationsof his time. If someNazi writers cited him nevertheless,it was at the price of incredible misquotation and exegeticalacrobatics,which defy comparison with all the similar devices that Nietzsche himself castigatedin the name of the philological conscience.His works were rejectedas a seriesof poses; parenthetiealstatementswere quoted as meaning the
INTRODUCTION 15 opposite of what they plainly mean in context; and' views he explicitly rejectedwere brazenly attributed to him. This processwas greatly aideil by Nietzschek sister (of my Niazsche)-but also by his love of language. He could not resist a bon mot or a striking coinage, and he took delight in inventing better slogansand epigramsfor hostilepositionsthan his opponentscould, divise-ana in breathing a new and unexpectedly&f'the will to ferent spirit into such phrases.Witness 'beyond good and evilr" antl 'the power,o overman,o dozensmore. oMan Or ctnsider a bon mot: when Nietzschesaid, does not strive for pleasure; only the Englishman does,'he was of coursethinking of the ethicsof Hume, Bentham, and Mill, not of English cooking, coal ffres, or Cromwell. Yet the remark may conc€ivably have contributed, however indirectly, to Hitlert happy misconception of dre English as essentially efiete and hedonistic,which sofortunately aided his defeat.Speak' ing of infuence here is sheernaivet6. Nietzsche's orientatiorL as he himself insisted once more in Ecce Homo, was fundamentallyanti-political. His concernwas primarily with the individual who is not satisftedwith accepted formulas-ranging all the way from patriotism to Protestantism,and including everything ihat is in any sense,to use his own phrase, 'party.Any attempt to pigeonhole him is purblind. He celebratedreason,like someof the thinkersof the Enlightenment,and passion,like someof the Romantics; he is in many ways closeto modernpositivism,but the Existentialistsrecognizetheir own pathosin him; atheists claim him, and many Christiansfeel they understand him besL
l6
INTRODUCTION
v lhe following reflections,far from classifying him, may help to deftne his unique achievement.He tried to itrengthen the heritage of the Enlightenment with a more profound understanding of the irrationalsomething Hegel had attempted three-quarters of a century earlier, but metaphysicallyand rather esoterically. Nietzsche was determined to be empirical, and he approachedhis subject-as it surely shouldbe -with plychology. Of this Hegel had not yet had more than an inkling, and the lack of any sustained psychological observationis one of the major shortcomingsof his magniffcentlyconceivedPhenomenolngy had donelitde of the Spirtt,But Hegelscontemporaries bitter: as psychologists,Bentham, Comte, and Mill were naive too. One could alnost ask with Nietzsche 'Why I Am a himself (itt Ecce Homn, in the chapter Destiny''): "Who among philosophersbefore sre has been a psychologistat all?" If Nietzschetried to deepenthe Enlightenmentwith a psychology,he also attempted to harnessromanti' cir'"ri ly tribrtituting an und6rstandingof the pas:ions for a biind cult and by extolling the individual whose reasonis a match for his passions.He ridiculed license as much-though not as often-as'castratism," and he uphelil sublimation and creativity againstboth. AII his heroeswere men of superior reason:passionatemen who were the mastersof their passion.The legendthat Cesare Borgia was his idol is easily refuted by- a1 examinationof the few leferencesto him in Nietzsche's works. Nietzschepreferredthe Borgia (or, as he said, eoen CesareBorgia) to Parsifal, which is scarcelyhigh praise from Nietzsche. Nor is his declaration in The
YI INTRODUCTION become pope. had Arrtichrtst that he wished Cesare After all, the context leaves no doubt that this would have delighted the author only becauseit might have meant the end of the papacyl This takes us to the third point: Nietzsche's uncompromisingattitude toward religion. If one cpnsiders the history of modern philosophy from Descartes,it is surely,foi gooclor ill, ttle story oj an emancipationfrom religion. Or conversely: each philosopher goes just so fafand then bows to Christianity and accepts what becomes unacceptable to his successors.Descartes resolvesto doubt everything, but soon offers proofs of God's existencethat have long been shown to be fallacious.A similar pattem recurs in Hobbes and !pi' noza,though they stray much farther from all orthodories, and, a-little later, in Berkeleyand Leibniz. Locke fu an'empiricist" who cites Scriphrreto his purpose;Voltaire, in anti-Christian whd accepts th6 t6leolo$cal argument for God's existence.Kant sets out to smash noi only the proofs of God but the very foundations 'pos' of Chriitian metaphysics,then turns around anil tulates" God and the immortality of the soul, prqraring ffaally, the way for Fichte and idealism. Schopenhauer, breala with Christianity but accepts the metaphysies of the Upanishadsfrom Hinduism. Nietzsche is one of the ffrJt thinkers with a comprehensivephilosophy the break with religion. Other equally to complete -philosophers of the nineteenth century who secular precededhim do not match the range of his interests and tbe scopeof his vision. Before his time there were really but two modern philosopherswho were equalln or almostequally, unchristian: Bacon (whoseaphoristic Nietzscheadmired;but for all his proexperimentalism grammatic patrhos,Bacon had no comparable philosophy) and Hune (whose skepticismis an exercisein
INTRODUCTION 18 lack of pathos and intensity). Though Hume and Nietzscheare antipodesin temperament,they are in many wq's closeto each other in their thinking-ancl. this leadsus to the ffnal point. Nietzscheis closenot only to the man rvho was the grandfatherof so much in modernEnglish and American philosophy,David Hume, but also to this modem he anticipatedit by sevphilosophyitself. Occasronally eral deeades,and it might still profit from his stimulation. Above all, however, Nietzsche is the last best bridge between positivism and existentialism,if we take both labels in the widest possiblesense.Today Germanand Romancephilosophyand Anglo-American "analysis"are completelyout of touch with eachother. Thus Nietzsche,once stupidly denouncedas the mind that causedthe First World lVar, might well becomea maior aid to internationalunderstanding:reminding ContinentalEuropeanand SouthAmericanthinkersof the benefftsof rigorousanalysis,while at tl,resametime summoningEnglish-speaking philosophersto consider 'existential' implicationsof their thinking. In his the irreverent expos6sof metaphysicalfoibles and fables he yields to none. But he is inspired not by Hume's nor by Comtet conceitthat he comfortablesmugness, might revolutionizesociety,nor by the cliquish delight in sheerproficiencyand skill that occasionallybesets contemporaryefiorts. Instead he is motivated by an intense concern with the meaning of his thought for the individual. And thus he not only anticipatesboth *analysis'and existentialism, but he has much modem to the other major approach above an each: all, to ofier strain of modern secular philosophy. In sum: Nietzsche'schallengeis twofold. He might some conceivablycomeinto his own by re-establishing bond betweenwhat are now two completelydivergent
INTRODUCTION 19 branches of modern thought, thus beneffting both. Meanwhile it'is the individual reader whom he addresses.And he doesnot want to be read as an arsenal of argumentsfor or againstsomething,nor even for a point of view. He challengesthe reader not so much to agreeor disagreeas to grow. W.K. Sbobl, Austria February rg53
Ghronology This includes the original titles anil dates of publication of all of Nietzsche's books. The discrepancies between the ffgures here giveo and those found in most reference works ar-edue to the fact that it has become customary to copy at least some of the dates from the bindings of various German collected editions. The dates on the bindings, however, refer to the approximate periods of composition. Most of Nietzsche's bo6[s were wr:itten during th-e year preceding publication; the outstanding excePtionsto this rule are noted.
Nietzscheis born in Rdcken,Germany,on Octo' ber r5. Death of his father, a LutheranPastor'on JuIy So. r849 The family moves to Naumburg. r85o 1858-64 Nietzsche attends the boarding school Schulpforta. Studies classicalphilology at Bonn University' r864 Continueshis stu'diesaileipzig and accidentally r865 main work in a second' discoversSchopenhauer's hand bookstore, First meetingwith RichardWagner. r868 Professor exLaordinarius of clissical philology at r869 the Universityof Basel,Switzerland. Promotedto iull professor.A Swisssubjectnow, he t87o volunteersas a medical orderly in the Francohussian war and sewesbriefly with the Prussian forces. Returns to Basel in October, his health shattered. Publicationof Die Geburt der Tragddie aus dem r87z Geiste der Musik (Tlw Birth of Trcgedy out of the Spirit of Music), his ffrst book. Publication of tlre ffrst Rvo Unzeltgentisse Be' r87g trachtungen -undMeditatio^) | , Daoiil -d,er (Untimety Schriftsteller (Daoiil Bekenner Strctrss, Sfrauss, the Confessoranil Writet), and Yom Nr)tzenund Nachteil iler Historiefiir d'asLeben (On the uee anil Disailoantageof History for Life). 20 r844
1874 t876
r8z8 r87g
r88o
r88r r.882
r883
r884 r885
CHRONOLOGY 2I (Schopenhauer as Schopenhauer als Enlehet is published as the tlru.d' Vfirmely Educator) 'Meditation, After many delays, Nietzsche eompletesand publishes Richard Wagler in Bagreuth as the last of Ilte untimely Meditatiotts, althcqgh more had been planned originally. Poor health. Leave from the university. Sorrento. Menschkches, All*rnenschhches (Human, AllToo-Human) appears.For the next ten years a new book is printed every year. Resignation from the university with pension. Vermischte Melnungen unil Spriiche (Mireil Opintans and, Marims) published as Anhang (appendix) of Human, All-Too-Human. Summer in St. Moritz in the Enqadin. Der Wandeter und sein-Schatten(The Wanderct anil His Shadowl appears ^s Zoeitet und letzter Nachuag (second and ffnal sequel) oI Human, AII-Too-Human Publication of Dte Morgenriite (The Daum)Winter and spring in Genog summerin Sils Maria (Enqadin), fall in Genoa. Pubiication of. Die Filihliche Wtssenschaft (The Gay Science).Winter in Genoa,spring in Messina, sunrmer in Tautenburg with Lou Salom6and his sister Elisabe[5 faU i! Leipzig. Goesto Rapallo in November. Writes the First Part ol Also Sprcch Zarathusba in Rapallo during the winter; spends March and. April in Cenoa, May in Rome,and the summer in Sils Maria, where he completes Part Two. Both parts are published separatelyin 1883. Fron now until 1888, Nietzschespendsevery summer in Sils Maria, every winter in Nizza. Writes the Third Part in Nizza in January. It is published later the sameyear. The Fourth and Iast Part of Zardht&fa is written during the winter in Nizza and Mentone. Forty
92
1886
r88Z
1888
r889
r&r r895
r89z
CHRONOLOGY eopies ate printed privately, but only seven distributed among friends. Publication of. Ienseits oon Cut and Biise (B* yond. Gooil atd, Eoll). A new preface is added to the remaining copies of both previous editions of The Birth of Tragedg (1872 and 1878, textually difterent); the Iast part of the title is now omitted in favor of a new subdtle: Gdechenhtm unil Pessimlsnus (The Greek Spirit and Pesstmi.sm). Secondedition of Haman, AII-Too-Humanwith a new preface and with the two sequelsprinted as volume two. Publication of.Zur Cenealogieiler Moral (Touaril a Geneabgy of Morals). Seqond edition of Tlv Daun, with a new preface, and of The Gag Sclence, with a newly added fffth book (aphorisms 943-383) and an appendix of poems. Winter in Nizza, spring in Turin, summer in Sils Maria, fall in Turin. Publication of. Der Fall Wagner (The Wagner Ccse). The beginning of fame: Georg Brandeslectureson Nietzscheat the Universityof Copenhagen. NieFzschebecomes insane early in January in Turin. Overbeck, a friend and former colleague, brings him back to Basel.He is committedto the asfum in Jena, but soon releasedin care of his mother, who takes him to Naumbwg. Die GiitrenDiimrnerung (Tuilight of the ldols), written in 1888, appearsin January. The ffrst public edition of the Fourth Part of Zarathwtra is held up at the last minute lest it It is publishedin 1892. be conffscated. Der Anttchrist and Niazsche contra Wagrwr, both written in 1888, are ffnally published in volume eight of Nietzschds collected works-the former, mistakenln as Book One of Der Wlll.e zur ltlacht (The Will to Pou;er). Nietzsche'smother dies. His sister moves him to Weimar.
r9oo r9or
CHRONOLOGY Nietzsche dies in Weimar on August 25. His sister publishes some 4oo of his notes, many utilized by him, in Volume XV of the works under the title Der Wille zur Macht, His sister integrates 2oo pagesof fur&er material oftom The Will to Powet" in the last volume of her biograph!, Das Leben Frtedrtch Nletzsches. A completely remodeled verion of. The Wil, to Pouer, consisting of ro67 notes, appears in a subsequentedition of the works in Volumes XV (rgro) and XVI (r9rr). First editiou of Ecce llorno, writtea iu 1888.
Bibliography Some stuilies of Nietzsche are listeil here; eilitions ot Nietzsche'swritings, both in the original and in English.are listed at the end of this volume,beginningon page688. The comprehensivebut incompiete l-ntermtiohal Nietr. sche Biblbigraphg, ed. Herbert- W. Reichert and Karl Schlechta(ehipel Hill: Universityof North CarolinaPress, 196o) Iistsclosdto 4ooo itemsin i7 languages.The bibliograrrhy in the 3rd rev. ed. (rg68) of Kaufmann'sNietzsche (s6ebelow)includeswell over a hundredstudies,as well as a detailed accountof the variouscollectedeclitionsof his works. Binion, Rudolph.Frau Lou. Princeton:PrincetonUniversity Press, r968. Supersedesall previous studies of Lou and of her relationshipto Nietzsche. Andreas-Salonr6 Brandes,Georg.Friedrich Nietzsche.Tr. from the Danishby A. G. Chate-r.London: Heinemann,rgr4. Four essaysby the critic who "discovered"Nietzsche,dated 1889, 1899, rgoo, and r9og. Brinton, Crirne.Nictzsche,Cambriclge,lvlass.:HrrrvartlUni' versityPress,r94q NervYork: Hlrper-&.forv, Torchbo-ok ed. with trov pr'efac", epilogtre, and bibliography, 1965. tlte-originll errors oT oI tlie'original In new e.fition, edition. the^nrri'rerous the-nrrirerous errors In the new editionremain short preface nrefaceBrinton Brinton remain uncorrected. uncorrected, but edition but in a short disorvns the chapter "Nietzsche in Western Th
rev. bibliosranhi addsseriousnew enors' Canrus, ah5rt.' "Nietzsche et le nihilismen in L'hotnma r\lefzscne rg5r, pp' pp' 88-ro5. "Nietzsche rdoolt6. rans: teaoLte. Paris: ualllmaro, Gallimard, 195r, -tr. 66-105. and Nihilism' in The Rebel,Engl. by Anthony Bower. New York, Vintage Books, 1956, pp. 65-8o. This essay throws on Nietzsche. Nietzsche. than on liehf on on Camus Carnus than more lirrht throws more as Philosopher. New York: I\{ac' C. rnto, Arthur Arthur C,'Nietzsche Danto, millan, 1965.A hasty study, full of old misconceptions, unircknowledgecl new mistranslations,'and -citedonrissionsin is systernatouotations.The contextof the snippets ita[y ignored, and no efiort is i,ide to consid-ereven ulosl oiwhat Nietzschewrote on any giv_ensubject.^ Nietzsche in Arnericai Arnericai Thought 1895Melvin. Nietzsche irnrner, Melvin. Drirnrner, (N.Y.), 1925. Ph.D. thesis, The University of Rochester (N.Y.),
rgOi. Anrr Arbor, Mich.: Universiiy Microfilms,Inc, 727 pp., includesBibliography, 654-7z7 t4
25 BIBLIOGRAPHY *NietzschesWort 'Gott ist tot'" lrr Heidegger, Martin. rg5o. Holiflege. Franlfurt am Main: Klosterm-ann, 'Wer ist NietsschesZarathustra?"in Vottriige und Aufsiitze,Pfullingen: Neske, rg54. English translation by Bemd Magnus in Lectures anil Aillresses. New York: Harper & Row, 1967. Nietz.sche, z vols. Pfullingen: Neske,196r. One of the maior efforts-certainly the tulkiest one--of the later Heideg,Icr:importantfor tfiosewho would understandhim. Hollingdiib, R. J-.Nlefzscha The Man atd, His Philosophg. Batdn Rouse: Louisiana State University Press, 1965. Sympathetid,informed, and well written;'the best biogripltl in Enelish,but the accountof Nierxche's relationsbioi to Saloir6 and R€o is dated bv Binion's book Nietzphilosophvis discussedin th6 contextof his life. sch^e's karl. Nibtache: Einfilhruns. lfl das Yerstiindnis Taspers. ' Berlin and-Leipzig: De Gruyter, ielnis Philosophiereru. 1996 (znd ed,, tg47, "unchanged," but with a new preface). Ensl. u. bv CharlesF. Wallraff and Frederick i. S.hnrltr, t{ieu.schi: An lntroductionto the Understandlng of His Philosophical Actioit1, Tucson: University of ,{rizonaPress,1965. Nietzsche unil das Christentum. Hameln: Verlag der BiichershrbeFritz Seifert, n.d. ( "This essayu'as written as the basis for a lecture which was delivered . . . May tz, 1938.It is he4eprinted without any changesor additions.. . .") Enel. tr. by E. B. Ashton,Nietzscheand Christianily.Chicagoi Hen4i Regnery,GatewayEditions, r96r. A niiniatureiersion oi the-appioachencdunteredin Iaspers'bix Nietzsche. Existenr,.Groningen: J.W.Wolters, 1935. Engl. tr. by Williarn Earle in Reasonand Existenz.New York: Noonday Press,rg55. Reprintedin Walter Kaufmann,Bristentialism front Dostoeoskyto Sartre. New York: Meridian Books,1956,pp. 158-84. Kaufmanrr, Walter. Nletzsche: Philosopher,Psgchologist, Afltichrist. Princeton: Princeton University Press, rg5o. end.rev. ed., New York: Meridion Boola, 1956. grd rev. ed. (with strbstantialadditions,includinga comprehensive bibliography,a long appendixdealing*ith tecentGerman editions of Nietzsche, and a detailed discussion of
26
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Niebche's relationship to Paul R€e and Lou Salom6), Princeton: Princeton University Press,and New York: RandomHouse,Vintage Bools, rg68. Five chapterson Nietzschein From Shakespeare to Eristentialism.Soston: BeaconPress,rg5g; t"u. #., Garden City, N.Y.: DoubledayAnchor Booki, rg6o. Articles on NieEschein EncyclopediaAmuicana; EncyclopaediaBritannica;Q ollier'shncqclopedia;Grotidr Encgclopedia;The Ercgclapediaol Pht[osoihq. TqagedyanilPhilosophy. GardenCity, N;Y.: Doubleday, 1968. -.-.;Expos6sof. Mg Sisterand I as a forgery, falsely attributed [o Nietzsch6,in Milwaukeelournil, FLbnary 24, r9S2;in PartisanReoierp,vol. XIX no. 3 (MaylJuner!52), Bet>iew, 37?-26; and of the rev. ed. in The PhilasoTihical ,vol. LXIV no. r (January1955), r5zf. KI1g9s, Lurlwig. Die PiychologischenErrungercchaften N ietzsches.LEipzig: Barth, rge6-. L6'with, Karl. Von Tlegel bis-xuietzsche. Ziirich and New I_ork:_Europa, rg4r.-Engl. tr. by David E. Green,From Hegel to Nletzsche.NeviYork: Holt, 1964;GardenCiW, N.Y.: DoubledayAnchor Books,1967.Includeseight sebtionson Nietzsche. Love, FrederickR. YoungNietzscheand tlrc WasnerionErperience.ChapelHill: llniversity of North Car6linapress, 1963.A good monograph that-takesinto accountNietz-in6luding sche'scoi,positions, unpublisheditems in the archivesin Weimar.It is full o"fpertinent,but untranslated, German quotations.The breali with Wagner is not included. Love showshow Nietrscheneverwis "a passionate devoteeof Wagnerianmusic." Morgan, GeorgeI{,., Jr. What NietzscheMeans.Cambridge, Mass.:Harvard UniversityPress,rg4r. Reprinted,nnre-v., New York: Harper & Row, Torchbooks,r!65. An exceptionallv careful study very useful as a referencework. Vaihinger, Hans. Dfd Philosophie des ALs-Ob. Leipzilz -of Meii-er,rgrr. Eng. tr. by C. k. Ogden,The Philosophg 'As It.' New York: Harcourt Brace,rgz4, The chapter "Nietzscheand His Doctrine of Consciouslllusion (Tho Will to lllusion)," pp. 94r-62, remainsone of the nrost interesting.studiesiif any languageof Nietzschet theory or rnowledge.
TRE
PORTABLE
NIETZSCHE
THE PORTABTE
NIETZSCHE
Lprrrn ro Hrs Srsrm (Bonn, 1865)
, . . As for your principle that truth is always on the side of the more dificult, I admit this in part. However, it is dificult to believe that 2 times z is not 4; doesthat make it true? On the other hand, is it really so dificult simply to accept everything that one has been brought up on and that has graduallystruck deep roots-what is consideredtruth in the circle of one's relatives and of many good men, and what, moreover, really comforts and elevates man? Is that more diftcult than to strike new paths, ffghting the habitual, experiencingthe insecurityof independence and the frequent wavering of one's feelings and even one's conscience,proceeding often without any consolation,but ever with the eternal goal of the true, the beautiful, and the good?Is it decisiveafter all that we arrive etthat view of God, world, and reconciliation which makesus feel most comfortable?Rather, is not the result of his inquiriessomethingwholly indifferent to the true inquirer? Do we after all seekrest, peace, and pleasure in our inquiries? No, only truth--even 29
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
if it be the most abhorent and ugly. Still one last question:if we had believedfrom childhoodthat all silrratiot issued from someoneother than Jesus-say, from Mohammed-is it not certainthat we shouldhave orperienced the same blessings?. . . Faith does not ofier the least support for a proof of obiectivetruth. Here the wap of men part: if you wish to strive for peaceof souland pleasure,then believe;if you wish to be a devoteeof tnrth, then inquire. . . . Fhecvrrvr
oF a CRITIquE oF Scnoruvneunn
( 186z) . . . The errors of great men are venerable because they are more fruidul than the truths of little (q ggg)' DelL...
OH Emucs
(1868) for not
Schopenhauer'sethics ls often criticizeil having the form of an imperativo. What the philosopherscall characteris an incurable disease.fui imperative ethics is one that dealswith the symptoms of the disease,having the faith, while it ffghts them, that it is getting rid of the real origin, the basic evil. Anyone who would base practical ethics on aestheticswould be like a physician who would ffght only those symptomswhich are ugly and ofiend good taste. Philosophically viewed, it makes no difference whether a character expressesitself or whether its t Thesenumbersrefer to the Musarionedition.
ON ETHICS 31 expressionsare kept back: not only the thought but th- disposiuon already makes the murderer; he is guilty without any deed. On the other hand, there is an ethical aristocracyjust as there is a spiritual one: one cannotenter it by receivinga title or by marriage. In what way, then, are education,popular instruction' catechism,justiffedand even necessary? The unchangeablecharacter is infuenced Jn its expressionsby its environmentand education-not in its essence.A popular ethics thereforewants to suppress bad expressionsas far as possible,for the sake of the generalwelfare-an undertakingthat is strikingly simiIar to the police. The meansfor this is a religion with rewards and punishmentsifor the expressionsalone matter. Therelore the catechismcan say: Thou shalt not killl Thou shalt not cursel etc. Nonsensical,how' 'Be goodl" as rilell as, "Be ever, is an imperative: wiset" or, "Be talentedt" The "general welfare- is not the sphereof truth; for truth demandsto be declared even if it is ugly and unethical. If we admit, fgr example,the truth of the doctrine (but also of Christianity) concerning of Schopenhauer the redemptivepower of suffering,then it becomes regard for the "general welfard' not only not to lessen suEering,but perhapseven to increaseit-not only for oneselfbut also for others.Pushedto this limit, practical ethics becomesugly-even consistent cruelty to human beings. Similarly, the effect of Christianity is unnerving when it commandsrespect for every kind of all sufferof magistrate,etc., as well as accePtance (t, +o+f .l at resistance. attempt any ing without
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Norn ($7o-7r) A state that cannot attain its ultimate goal usurrlly swells to an unnaturally large size. The world-wide empire of the Romansis nothing sublime comparedto Athlns. The strength that really should go into the fower here remains in the leaves and stem, which (m, g8+) flourish. FNOM
Homer'sContest' (r8zzl When one speaksof humanitE,the idea is fundamental that this is something which separatesand distinguishesman from nature. In reality, however, 'naturaf' gualities and there is no such separation: 'humano are inseparably grcwn those called truly together.Man, in his highestand noblestcapacities,is wholly nature and embodies its uncanny dual character. Those of his abilities which are terrifying and consideredinhuman may even be the fertile soil out of which alone all humanity can grow in impulse,deed, and work. Thus the Greeks,the most humane men of ancient times, have a trait of cruelty, a tigerish lust to annihilate-a trait that is also very distinct in that grotesquely enlarged mirror image of the Hellenes, in Alexander the Great, but that really must strike fear into our hearts throughout their whole history and 1A fragmentpublishedposthumously.
gg HOMERSCONTEST mythology, if we approach them with the flabby concept of modern'humanity." When Alexanderhas the feet of Batis,the brave defenderof Gaza,pierced,and ties him, atve, to his carriage,to drag him about while his soldiers mock, that is a revolting caricature of Achilles, who maltreats Hector's colpse in a similar fashion at night; and even this trait is ofrensiveto us and makes us shudder. Here we look into the abyss of hatred. With the samefeelingwe may also observe the mutual laceration,bloody and insatiable,of two Greek parties,for example,in the Corcyreanrevolution. lVhen the victor in a fight among the cities executes the entire male citizenry in accordancewith the laws of war, and sells all the women and children into slavery, we see in the sanctionof such a law that the Greeksconsideredit an earnestnecessityto let their bahed flow forth fully; in such momentscrowded and swollen feeling relieved itself; the tiger leaped out voluptuous cruelqr in his terrible eyes. Why must the Greek sculptorgive form again and again to war and combat in innumerablerepetitionsrdistendedhuman bodies,their sinewstensewith hatred or with the arrogance of triumph; writhing bodies, wounded; dfng bodies,expiring?Why dicl the whole Greekworld exult over the combat scenesof the lliad? I fear that we do not understandthesein a sufficiently'Greek-manneri indeed" that we should shudder if we were ever to 'in undbrstandthem Greek.' But what lies behind. the Homeric world, as the womb of everything Hellenic?For in that world the exhaordinary artistic precision,calm, and purity of the linesraiseus abovethe merecontents:throughan artistie deception the colors seemlighter, milder, warmeri and in this colorful warm light the men appear better
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
and more sympathetic.But what do we behold when, no longerled and protectedby the hand of Homer,we stride back into the pre-Homerie world? Only night and tenor and an imaginationaccustomedto the horrible. What kind of u"ri'hly existencedo theserevolting, terrible theogonic myths reflect? A life ruled only by the childrenof Night: strife, lust, deceit,old age, and death. Let us imagine the atmosphereof Hesiodt poem, alreadyhard to breathe,made still denserand darker, and without all the molliffcationsand puriftcations that streamedover Hellas from Delphi and from numerousabodesof the gods; Iet us mix this with the gloomyvolupthickenedBoeotianatmosphere fuousnessof the Etruscans;then such a reality would wring from us a world of myth in which Uranos,Cronos, Zeus, and the wars with the Titans would seem like a relief: in this brooding atmosphere,combat is salvation;the cruelty of victory is the pinnacle of life's jubilation. ' Further, it was in truth from murder and the expiation of murder that the conceptionof Greeklaw developed; so, too, the nobler culture takesits ffrst wreath of victory from the altar of the expiation of murder. After the wave of that bloody age comesa trough that cuts deepinto Hellenichistory.The namesof Orpheus, to Musaeus,and their cults reveal the consequences which the uninterrupted spectacleof a world of struggle and cruelty was pressing:toward a disgustwith existence,toward the conceptionof this existenceas a punishmentand penance,toward the belief in the identity of existenceand guilt. But it is preciselythese that are not speciffcallyHellenic: in this conseguences respect,Greeceis at one with India and the Orient in general. The Hellenic genius was ready with yet an-
HOMERSCONTEST 85 other answerto the question,"What is a life of struggle and victory for?" and it gave that answerthrough the whole breadth of Greek history. To understandit, we must start with the point that the Greekgeniustoleratedthe terrible presenceof this urge and consideredit j&ifed; while the Orphic movement containedthe idea that a life with such an urge as its root was not worth living. Struggle and the ioy of victory were recognized-and nothing distinguishes the Greek world from ours as much as the coloring, so derived,of individual ethical concepts,for example, Erfst and envy. . . . And not only Aristotle but the whole, of Greek antiquity thinks differently from us about hatred and envy, and judgeswith Hesiod,who in one place calls one Eris evil-nameln the one that leads men into hostileffghtsof annihilationagainstone another-while praising another Eris as good-the one that, as jealousy, hatred, and envy, spurs men to activity: not to the activity of ffghts of annihilation but to the activity of ffghtswhich are cotrte$s.The Greekis envious,and he does not considerthis quality a blemish but the gift of a beneficentgodhead.What a gUlf of ethical iuclgmentlies betweenus and himl . . . The greater and more sublime a Greek is, the brighter the flame of ambition that flares out of him, consumingeverybodywho runs on the same course. Aristotle once made a fist of such hostile contestsin the grand manner; the most striking of the examples is that even a dead man can still spur a live one to consuming iealousy. That is how Aristotle describes the relationshipof Xenophanesof Colophonto Homer. We do not understandthe full strength of Xenophanes' l'Discurd."
THE PORTABLE NIETESCHE 36 attack on the national hero of poetry, unless-as again later with Plato-we see that at its root lay an overwhelming craving to assume the place of the overthrown poet and to inherit his fame. Every great Hellene hands on the torch of the contest; every great virtue kindles a new greatness.When the young Themistocles could not sleep because he was thinking of the laurels of tr{iltiades, his urge, awakened so eatly, was finally set free in the Iong contest with Aristides, to become that remar*ably unique, purely instinctive genius of his political activity, *tri"t, Thucydides describes for us. How clraracteristic are question and answer rvhen a noted opponent of Pericles is asked whether he or Pericles is the best u,restler in the city, and answers: "Even when I throw him down, he denies that he fell and attains his puqpose, persuading even those who saw him fall." If one u'ants to observe this conviction-wholly undisguised in its most naive expression-that the contest is necessaryto preserve the health of the state, then one should reflect on the original meaning of ostrccisrn, for example, as it is pronounced by the Ephesians when 'Among they banish Hermodorus: us, no one shall be the best; but if someoneis, then let him be elsewhere and among others." Why should no one be the best? Because then the contest would come to an end and the eternal source of life for the Hellenic state would be endangered. . . . Originally this curious institution is not a safety valve but a means of stirnulation: the individual who towers above the rest is eliminated so that the contest of forces may reawaken-an idea that is hostile to the "exclusiveness" of genius in the modern sense and presupposes that in the natural order of things there are always seoeral geniuseswho spur each
HOMER'SCONTEST 81 other to action, even as they hold eachother within the limits of rneasure.That is the core of the Hellenic notion of the contest: it abominatesthe rule of one and fearsits dangers;it desires,as a proteotionagainstthe genius,anothergenius. Every talent must unfold itself in 6ghting: that is the command of Hellenic popular pedagogy, whereas modern educators dread nothing more than tthe unleashing of so-ealled ambition. . . . And iust as the youthswere educatedthroughcontests,their educators were also engagedin contestswith each other. The great musical masters, Pindar and Simonides,stood Jiae by side, mistrusdul and jealous; in the spirit of' contest,the sophist, the advancedteacher of antiquity" meetsanother sophist; even the most universal type of' instruction, through the drama, was meted out to the people only in the form of a tremendouswrestling: among the great-musical and dramatic artists. How wonderfull "Even the artist hates the artisL" Whereas: modern man fears nothing in an artist more than the' emotion of any personal ffght, the Greek knows the' artist only as engaged in o personal fight. Precisely where modern man sensesthe weahressof a work of' art, the Hellene seeksthe sourceof its greateststrength. What, for example,is of epecial artistic signiffcancein Plato'sdialoguesis for the mostpart the resultof a contest with the art of the orators, the sophistq and the dramatistsof his time, inventedfor the pulposeof en'Look, I too can do what abling him to sayin the end: my great rivals can do; indeed, I can do it better than they. No Protagorashas invented myths as beautiful as mine; no dramatistsucha vivid and captivatingwhole as my Symposion;no orator has written orationslike those in my Gorgias-and now I repudiate all this en-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 38 tirely and condemnall imitative art. Only the contest mademe a poet, a sophist,an orator."What a problem opensup beforeus when we inquire into the relationship of the contestto the conceptionof the work of artl However,when we removethe contestfrom Greek life we immediatelylook into that pre-Homericabyss of a terrifying savageryof habed and the lust to annihilate. This phenomenonunfortunately appears quite frequently when a great personalityis suddenly renoved from the contestby an extraordinarily brilliant deed and becomeshors de concot.rsin his own judgment, as in that of his fellow citizens. The effect is almost without exceptiona terrifying one; and if one usually infers from this that the Greek was incapable of enduringfame and happiness,one shouldsay more precisely that he was unable to endure fame without any further contest,or the happinessat the end of the contest. There is no clearer example than the Iast experiences of Miltiades.Placedon a solitarypeak and elevated far above every fellow ffghter by his incomparablesuccessat Marathon, he feels a base, vengeful craving awaken in him against a Parian citizen with whom he has long had a feud. To satisfy this craving he misuses fame, state propertn civic honor-and dishonors himself. . . . An lgnominious death sets its seal on his brilliant heroic career and darkensit for all posterity.After the battle of Marathon t/e envyof the heavenlypowersseizedhim. And this divine envy is infamed when it beholdsa human being without a rival, unopposed,on a solitarypeak of fame. Only the gods are besidehim now-and thereforethey are againsthim. They seducehim to a deedof hybris,r and under it he co@ses. I "Overbearing.'
HOMER',S CONTEST 99 Let us note well that, iust as Miltiades perishes, the noblestGreek cities perish too, when through merit and good fortune they arrive at the temple of Nike from the racecounre.Athens, who had destroyed the independenceof her allies and then severelypunished the iebellions o{ her subjects; Sparta, who expressed her dominationover Hellas after the battle of Aego6potamoi, in yet muc,hharsherand crueler ways, have also, after the example of Miltiades, brought about their own destructionthrough deedsof hgbris, as proof that without emy, iealousy, and ambition in the contest, the Hellenic city, like the Hellenic man, degenerates. He becomesevil and cruel; he becomesvengeful and godless;in short, he becameftre-Homeric: . . . Norts
(r8Zg)
Detfwatian of svccessis truly cornmensuratewith human meanness. Whoeverhas closelystudiedeven a single successknows what factors (stupidity, wickedness, laziness,etc.) have always helped-anil not es the weakest factors either. It is mad that successis supposedto be worth more than the beautiful possi' bility which was sUll there immediately before. But to 6nd in history the realization of the good and the iust, that is blasphemyagainst the good and the iusL This beautiful world history is, in Heraclitean temr, "a chaoticpile of rubbish." What is sfiongwins: that is the universallaw. If only it were not so often precisely (vt" SUf.) what is shrpid and evill :.:8
Hegel saysz'That at the bottom of history, and par' ticularly of world history, there is a ftnal aim, and that
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 40 this has actually been realized in it and is being realized-the plan of hovidence-that there is rcason in history: that is to be shown philosophicallyand And: "A history without thus as altogethernecessary." such an aim and without such a point of view would be merely a feeble-mindedpastime of the imagination, not even a children's fairy tale, for even children demand some interest in stories,i.e., some aim one can at least feel, and the relation of the occurrences and actionsto it." Conclusion:Every story must have an aim, hence also the history of a people and the history of the world. That means: becausethere is 'world history" tlere must also be some aim in the world process.That means: we demand storiesonly vdth aims. But we do not at all dernandstories about the world process,for we considerit a swindleto talk about it. That my life has no aim is evident even from an the accidentalnature of its origin; that I can Ttosi.t aim for myself is anothermatter. But a state has no (u, 3g6) aim; we alonegive it this aim or that. :.if
'What On the mgthology of the historical. Hegel: happens to a people and occurs within it has its essential significance in its relation to the state; the mere particularities of the individuals are most remote from this subject matter of history." But the state is always only the means for the preservation of many individuals: how could it be the aim? The hope is that with the preservation of so many blanks one may also protect a few in whom humanity culminates. Otherwise it makes no sense at all to preserve so many wretched human beings. The history of the state is the history of the egoism of the massesand of the blind desire to exist; this striving is justified to some extent only in
NOTES 0873)
the geniuses,inasmuchas they can thus exist Individual ind collectiveegoismsstrugglingagainsteachother -an atomic whirl of egoisms-who would look for aims here? Through &e genius somethingdoes result from this atomic *hitl aftet all, and now one forms a milder of this procedure opinion concerningthe senselessness -as if a blind hunter ffred hundredsof times in vain and ffnally, by sheeraccident,hit a bird. A result at last, he saysto himself, and goeson ffring. (vl, gs6 f.) :.;.: The damned fol& soull When we speak of the Ger' rnan xpirit we mean Luther, Goethe,Schiller, and a few others.It would be better evento speakof Luther' like people,etc. We want to be careful about calling somethingGerman:in the ffrst place,it is the language; but to understand this as an expressionof the folk characteris a mere phrase,and so far it has not been possibleto do so with any peoplewithout fatal_vlgue: iess and figuresof speech.Greeklanguageand Greek 'tolk'l Let somebodybring them togetherl Moreover, it is the same as with writing: the most important basis of the language is not Greek but, as one now says,Indo-Germanic.It is somewhatbetter with style or the humanbeing. To ascribepredicatesto a people is alwaysdangerous;in the end, everythingis so mixed that a unity developsonly late, throughthe languageor an illusion of unity. Germans,German Reiclt-that is something.Those speakingGerman-that is something too. But those of German racel What is German as a quality of artistic style-that is yet to be fourd,, just as among the Greeksthe Greek style was found only late: anlarlier unity did not exist, ottly a terrible (vt, SS8f.) mixture.
42
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE
FROM
0n Truth and Lie in an Extra-MoralSense' ( rSzs) pouredout In someremotecornerof the universe, thereonce and glitteringin innumerable solarsystems, was a star on which clever animals invented knowledge. That was the haughtiest and most mendacious 'world history"-yet only a minute. After minute of nature had. drawn a few breaths the star grew cold, anil the clever animals had to die. One might invent such a fable and still not have illustrated iufficiently how wretched, how shadowy and flighty, how aimless and arbitrary, the human intellect appears in nature. There have been eternities when it did not exist; and when it is done for again, nothing will have happened. For this intellect has no further mission that would lead beyond human life. It is human, rather, and only its owner and producer gives it such importance, as if the world pivoted around it. But if we could communicate with the mosquito, trhen we would learn that it floats through the air with the same self-importance, feeling within itself the flying center of the world. There is nothing in nature so despicable or insignificant that it cannot immediately be blown up like a bag by a slight breath of this power of knowledge; and just as every Porter wants an admirer, the proudest human being, the philosopher' thinls that hl sees the eyes of the universe tele1A fragmentpublishedposthumousln
ON TRUTH AND LIE 4 scopically focused from all sides on his actions and thoughts. It is strangethat this should be the effect of the intellect, for after all it was given only as an aid to the most unfortunate, most delicate, most evanescent beincsin order to hold them for a minute in existence, from"which otherwise,without this gift they would have every reasonto fee as quickly as Lessing'sson. That haughtinesswhich goeswith knowledgeand feeling, which shrouds the eyes and sensesof man in a blinding fog, therefore deceiveshim about the value of existenceby carrying in itself the most flattering evaluationof knowledgeitself. Its most universalefiect is deception; but even its most particular efiects have somethingof the samecharacter. The intellect as a meansfor the presenrationof the individual, unfolds its chief powersin simulation;for this is the meansby which the weaker, less robust individuals preserve themselves,since they are denied the chance of waging the struggle for existencewith horns or the fangs of beastsof prey. In man this art of simulationreachesits peak: here deception,fattery, Iying and cheating talking behind the back, posing living in borrowed splendor, being masked, the disguise of convention, acting a role before others and before oneself-in short the constantfluttering around the single fame of vanity is so much the rule and the law that almost nothing is more incomprehensiblethan how an honest and pure urge for truth could make its appearanceamongmen. They are deeplyimmersedin illusions and dream images;their eye glides only over the swface of things and sees'forms"; their feeling nowhere leads into truth, but contentsitself with the reception of stimuli, playing, as it were, a game of btndman's buff on the bacla of things. Moreover,man
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 44 permits himself to'be lied to at night, his life long, when he dreams, and his moral sensenever even tries. to prevent this-although men have been said to have overcome snoring by sheer will power. What, indeed, does man know of himself! Can he even once perceive himself cornpletely, laid out as if in an illuminated glass case?Does not nature keep much the most from him, even about his body, to spellbind and conffne him in a proud, deceptive consciousness, far from the coils of the intestines, the quick current of the blood stream, and the involved tremors of the ffbers? She &rew away the key; and woe to the calamitous curiosity which might peer iust once through a crack in the chamber of consciousnessand look down, and sense that man rests upon the merciless, the' greedy, the insatiable, the murderous, in the indifin dreams, as it ference of his ignorance-hanging were, upon the back of a tiger. In view of this, whence in all the world comes the urge for truth? Insofar as the individual wants to preserve himself against other individuals, in a natural state of afiairs he employs the intellect mostly for simulation alone. But because man, out of need and boredom, wants to exist socially, herd-fashion, he requires a peace pact and he endeavors to banish at least the very crudest bellum omnium contra omnesLfrom his world. This peace pact brings with it something that looks like the ffrst step toward the attainment of this enigmatic urge for truth. For 'truth"; that now that is ffxed which henceforth shall be is, a regularly vahd and obligatory designation of things is invented, and this linguistic legislation also furnishes. the ffrst laws of truth: for it is here that the contrast between truth and lie ffrst originates. The liar uses tbe valid designations, the words, to make the unreal lT/ar of all againstall.'
ON TRUTH AND LIE 45 "I am rich," when app€ar 4s real; he says,for example, the word "poor' would be the correct designationof his situation. He abusesthe fixed conventionsby arbibary changesor evenby reversalsof the names.When he does this in a self-sendngway damagingto others, then societywill no longer trust him but excludehim. Therebymen do not flee from being deceivedas much as from being damagedby deception:what they hate at this stageis basicallynot the deceptiorrbut the bad, of certain kinds of deceptions.In hostile consequences a similarlylimited way man wantsthe truth: he desires of truth, but the agreeablelife-preservingconsequences he is indifferent to pure knowledge,which has no conhe is evenhostileto possiblydamagingand sequences; destructive truths. And, moreover, what abou! these conventionsof language?Are they really the products of knowledge,of the senseof truth? Do the designations and the things coincide? Is language the adequate expressionof all realities? Only through forgedulnesscan man ever achievetlle illusion of possessinga "tnrth" in tlle sensejust designated. If he does not wish to be satisffedwith truth in the form of a tautology-that is, with empty shellsthen he will forever buy illusions for truths. What is a word? The imageof a nerve stimulusin soundp.But to infer from the nerve stimulus, a cause outside us, that is already ttre result of a false and uniustiffedapplication of the principle of reason. . . . The difierent languages,set side by side, show that what matters with words is never the truth, never an adequateexpression;else ttrere would not be so many languages. The "thing in itself" (for that is what pure tnrth, without consequences, would be) is quite incomprehensible to the creatorsof languageand not at all worth airring for. One designatesonly the relationsof things to man,
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
md !o expresst{rem one calls on the boldest metaphors. A nerve stimulus,Srst transposedinto an imago -ffrst metaphor. The image, in turn, imitated by a sound-second metaphor. . . . I,et us still $ve special considerationto the formation of concepts.Every word immediately becomesa conc€pt, inasmuch as it is not intended to serve as a reminder of the unique and wholly individualized original experienceto which it owes its birth, but must at tbe same time fft innumerable, more or less similar cases-which mearu, strictly speaking, never equalin other worils, a lot of unequal cases.Every concept originates through our equating what is unequal. No leaf ever wholly equalsanother,and the concept"leaf" is formed through an arbiEary abstractionfrom these individual differences,through forgetting the distinctions; and now it $ves rise to the idea that in nature there might be something besides the leaves which 'leaf"-some kind of original forrr after would be which all leaves have been woven, marked, copied, colored, curled, and painted, but by unskilled hands, so that no copy tumed out to be a correct,reliablq and faithful image of the original form. We call a person tonest.' Why did he act so honestly today? we ask. Our answer usually sounds like this: becauseof his honesty.Honestyl That is to say again: the leaf is tho causeof the leaves.After all, we know nothing of an essence-likequality named honesty"; we know only Dumerousindividualized, and thus unequal actions, which we eguateby omitting the unequal and by then caling them honestactions.In the end, we distill from 'honesty". . . . ttem a qwlitas oceultowith the nameof What, then, is trutb? A mobile army of metaphors, neton;rms, and antb'ropomorphisms-in short, a sun
47 ON TRUTH AND LIE of humanrelations,which have been enhanced,transpgsed,and embellishedpoeticallyand rhetorically,-and long use seemffrm, canonical,and obliga' whi"h a people: truths are illusionsabout which one tory to"fte. hai forgotten-that this is what they are; metaphon which are worn out and without sensuouspower; coins which have lost their pictures and now matter only as metal, no longer as coins. We still do not larow where the urge for tnrth comes from; for as yet we have heard only of the obligation imposed by iociety that it should exist: to be truthful mdansusing the eustomarymetaphors-in moral terms: the obligation to lie accordingto a ffxed conventiorSto lie heril-like in a style obligatory for all. . . .
Noms ABortrWecxm (IanuatYr8Z+) If Goethe is a traruposed painter and Schiller a transposedorator, then Wagner is a transposedactor. (vq e+r) 8838 As a pamphleteerhe is an orator without the power (uc gSg) to cpnvince. t3E ft was a specialform of Wagner'sambition to relate himself to high points of the past: Schiller-Goethe' Beethoven,Luther, Greek tragedy, Shakespeare,Bismarck Only to the Renaissancecould he establishno relationship; but he invented the German spirit as op (vtl gsg) posed to the Romance.
48
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Norrs ($Zq) GennanCulture. . . . Political superioritywithout any rcal hurnan superiority is most hafffut One must seek to make amends for political superiority. To be aslwmedof one'spower. To use it in the most salutary way. Everybody thinks that the Germansmay now rest on tbeir rroral and intellectual superiority. One seems to think that now it is time for somethingelse,for the state. Till now, for 'art' etc. This is an ignominious rnisunderstanding;there are seedsfor the most glorious development of man And these must perish for the sake of the state?What, after all, is a state?The time of the scholarsis past. Their place must be taken by philnlethes.LTremendouspo$'er. The only way to use t}le presentkind of Germanpower correctly is to comprehend tlre tremendous obligation which lies in it. Any slackeningof cultural taslcswould turn this power (uq r+sf.) into the most revolting tyranny. 3;8 A geat value of antiquity lies in the fact that its w*ings are the only ones that modern men still read (vtq rS6) wlth exactness.
Nmss (r8ZS) lhe political defeat of Greecewas the greatestfailure of culture: for it has brought with it the revolting theory that bne can foster culture only when one ie .rTrieods of truth."
NOTES (187D
armed to the teeth and wears boxing gloves. The rise of Christianity was the secondgeat failure: raw Pole€r there and the dull intellect here becamevictors over the aristocratic genius among the nations. Being a Hellenophile means: being an enemy of raw power and dull intellects. In this way Sparta was the ruin of Hellas, for she forced Athens to become active in a
andto throwherselfentirely federation "?r.l"Tl!} t88
There remainsa gravedoubt whether one may argue from languagesto nationalitiesand relatednessto other nations.A victoriouslanguageis nothing but a freguent (not even a regular) sign of successful conquest. Where have there ever been autochthonouspeoples? It is a very impreciseconcept to speakof Greels who did not yet live in Greece.What is characteristically Greek is much lessthe result of any dispositionthan of adapted institutions and of the languagethat has been (vu, rgg) accepted. 3A€ For the highest imagesin every religion there is an analogue in a state of the soul. The God of Mohammed-the solitude of the desert, the distant roar of a Iion, the vision of a tenible fighter. The God of the Christians-everythingthat men and women associate with the word'love." Tte God of the Greeks-a beauti(w, r95) ful dream image. td€ For once I want to enumerateeverything that I no longer believe; also what I believe,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 50 In the great whirlpool of forces man standswith the conceit that this whirlpool is rational and has a rational aim: an errorl The only rational thing we know is what little reasonman has: he must exert it a lot, and it is always minous for him when he abandons himself' 'Providence." say, to The only happinesslies in reason;all the rest of the world is dismal.The highestreason,however,I seein the work of the artist, and he may experienceit as such; there may alsobe somethingthat, if onlv it could be produced consciously,would result in a still greater feeling of reason and happiness: for example, the courseof the solar system,begettingand educatinga human being. Happinesslies in the swiftnessof feeling and thinking: all the rest of the world is slow, gradual, and shrpid. Whoever could feel the course of a light ray would be very h"ppy, for it is very swift. Thinking of oneselfgives little happiness.If, however, one feelsmuch happinessin this, it is becauseat bottom one is not thinking of oneselfbut of one'sideal. This is far, and only the swift reach it and are de(vrr,zrr f.) lighted. 3i3; To educate educatorsl But the ffrst ones must edu(vu, zr5) cate themselves!And for these I write. &::8 The better the state is established,the fainter is humanity. To make the individual uncornfodable, that is my (rm, z16) task.
TIUMAN,ALL.TOO-HUMAN
51
FROM
Human,All-Too-Human -
Eorton's Norg
Nietzsche'sfirst ffve books, ?lre Btrth of Tragedy and the fcw Urtimely Meihtations, were essays.All of them dealt' in one way or another, with guestionsof value: the value of art and life itself, the value of history and the problem values, and the value of whether there are supra-historical -last point was central in the thiril self-perfection. This Meditation, in which Nietzsche proposed that a new picture of man was needed to counter the true but deadly Darwinian doc{rine of the essentialcontinuity of man and animal. Being determined, however, to build on atl empirical foundation, instead of falling back on dogma or tntuition, Nietzsche found himself unable to do what he wanted. Then, roughly at the same time he decided to break with Wagner, he gave up his previous style and method and turned to writing boola composedof aphorisms-largely concemed with human psychology or, in Nietzsche's ph'rase,with the 'truman, all-too-human""
Izl Origlnal eror of thc philosopher,Nl philosophers sharethis commonerror: tbey proceedfrom contempo. rary man and think they can reach their goal through an analysis of this man. Automatically they think of *mano as an etemal veritn as something abiding in the whirlpool, as a sut" -eas,tre of things. Everphing that the philosophersays about man, however,is at bottom no more than a testimony about the man of a very limited period. Lack of a historical senseis the original error of all philosophers.. . .
52
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
lsl Misund.errtanding of the dream.In the agesof crude primeval cultureman believedthat in dreamshe got to know anotherrcal world; here is the origin of all metaphysics.Without the dream one would have found no occasionfor a division of the world. The separationof body and soul, too, is relatedto the most ancienteonception of the dream; also the assumptionof a quasibody of the soul, which is the origin of all belief in spirits and probably also of the belief in gods. "The dead live on; for they appearto the living in dreams"; 'this inferencewent unchallengedfor many thousands of years.
[8s] The sleep of oirtue. When virtue has slept, she will get up more refreshed.
lrrgJ Christianity as ontiquitg. When we hear the ancient bells growling on a Sunday morning we ask ourselves: Is it really possiblel this, for a Jew, cruciffed two thousand years ago, who said he was Godt son. The proof of such a claim is lacking. Certahrly the Christian religion is an antiquity projected into our times from remote prehistory; and the fact that the claim is believed -v,'hs1sn5 one is otherwise so strict in examining pretensions-is perhaps the most ancient piece of this heritage. A god who begets children with a mortal woman; a sage who bids men work no more, have no more courts, but look for the signs of the impending end of the world; a justice that accepts the innocent as a vicarious sacriffce; someone who orders his disciples to drink his blood; prayers for miraculous interven-
HUMAN,ALL.TOO.HUMAN 59 tions; $ns pelpetrated against a god, atoned for by a god; fear of a beyond to which death is the podal; the form of the crossas a symbol in a time that no longer knows the function and the ignominy of the crosshow ghoulishly all this touchesus, as if from the tomb of a primeval pastl Can one believe that such things are still believed?
lr+61 The artist's sense of truth, Regatding truths, the artist has a weaker morality than the thinker. He definitely doesnot want to be deprived of the splendid and profound inteqpretationsof life, and he resists sober' iimple methods and results. Apparently he ffghts for the higher digmty and signiffcanceof man; in trutb he doesnot want to give up the most effective Presu[F positions of his art: the fantastic, mythical, uncertain, extreme,the sensefor the symbolic,the overestimation of the person,the faith in somemiraculouselementin the genius. Thus he considersthe continued existence of his kincl of creation more important than scientiftc devotion to the truth in every form, however plain'
lrzol ArtiMs'ambition. The Greek artists, for example,the hagedians,wmte in order to triumph. Their whole art is unthinkable without the contest: Hesiod'sgood Eris'. ambition, gave wings to their genius.Now this ambition demanded above all that their work attain the highest excellencein their own eyes, as they under-' stoodexcellence, without considerationfor any prevailing taste or public opinion concerningexcellencein a. work of art. Thrrs Aeschylusand Euripides rcmained unsuccessfulfor a long time, until they had ffn"lly educated judges of art who appraisecltheir work by
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
the standards they themselves applied. Thus they strove for a triumph over their rivals in their own estimation, before their orvn seat of judgment; they really wantedto be more excellent;and then they demanded outside agreement with their own estimation, A COn-
Srmation of their own judgment. Striving for honor *making o oneself suneriorand alsowishing superior r here means appear so publicly." to appear publicly. If the ffrst is lacking and the second is desired nevertheless,then one speaks of oanity.If the secondis lacking and is not missed,then one speaksof.ptide,
lr8+l U*ranslnnbb. lt is neither the best nor the worst in a book that is untranslatable.
lrsgl Tlwglts in a poem. The poet presentshis thoughts festiveln on the carriage of rhythm: usually because they could not wallc"
lzz+l Ennoblementthrough degeneration"History teaches that the best-preservedtribe among a people is the one ir! which most men have a living communalsense as s c€nsequence of sharing their customaryand indis. putable principles-in other words, in consequenccof e cemmonfaith. Here the good" robust mores thtive; here the subordinationof the individual is learned and the characterreceivesffrmnesgffrst as a gift and then is further cultivated. The danger to these strong conmunities founded on homogeneousindividuals who have characteris growing stupidity, which is gradually increasedby heredity, and whictu in any case,follows all stability like a shadow. It is the individuals wbo
55 HUMAN,ALL.TOO.HUMAN have fewer ties and are much more uncertain and morally weaker upon whom spiritual progressdependsin such communities;they are the men who make new and manifold experiments.fnnumerablemen of this sort perishbecauseof their weaknesswithout any very visible efiect; but in general, especially if they have descendants,they loosenup and from time to time inflict a wound on the stable element of a community. Precisely in this wounded and weakened spot the whole structure is itnaiated, as it \ilere, with something new; but its over-all strength must be sufficient to acceptthis new elementinto its blood and assimilate it Thosewho degenerateare of the highest importance whereverprogressis to take place; every great progress must be precededby a partial weakening.The strongest natureshold fa* to the tyPe; the weaker oneshelp to il,eoebp it further, It is somewhatthe samewi& the incliviclual: rarely is degeneration,a crippling, even a vice or any physi cal or moral damage,unaccompaniedby somegain on the other side. The sickerman in a warlike and restless tribe, for example,may have more occasionto be by himself and may thus become calmer and wiser; ttre one-eyedwill have one stsongereye; the blind will see more deeply within, and in any case have e keener senseof hearing. So the famous sttuggle for *istence doesnot seemto me to be the only point of view from which to explain the progressor the strengtheningof a human being or a rac€. Rather, two things must come together: ffrst, the increase of stable power through closespiritual ties such as faith and communalfeeling; then, the possibility of reaching higher goals through the appearanceof degeneratetypes and, as a consequence, a partial weakening and wounding of the stable power: it is precisuly th" weaker natures who,
TITE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 56 being more delicate and freer, make progress possible. A people who crumble somewhere and become weak, but remain strong and healthy on the whole, are able to acrept the infection of the new and absorb it to their advantage. In the case of the individual the task of education is this: to put him on his path so ffrmly and surely that, as a whole, he can never again be diverted. Thert however, the educator must wound him, or utilize the wounds destiny inflicts.upon him; and when pain and need have t}us developed, some' thing new and noble can then be inoculated in the wounded spots. His whole nature will absorb this, and later, in its fnrits, show the ennoblement. Concerning t}le state, Machiavelli says tlat'tlle form of govemment is of very little importance, although the-haU-educated think otherwise. The great goal of statesmanship should be duration, which outweighs everything else because it is far more valuable than freedom.t Only where the greatest duration is securely established and guaranteed is continual development and ennobling iaoculation at all possible. Of course, authority, the dangerous companion of all durdtion, will usually Ey to resist this process.
lz6sl Reasonln the schoob.The schoolshave no more im' portant task than to teach rigorous thinling, cautious fudgment, and consistent inference; therefore they inoun leave alone whatever is not suitable for these operations: religion, for example. After _all, thgy ca1 b. *" that later on man's fogginess,habig and need will slackenthe bow of an all-too-taut thinking. But as far as the influence.ofthe schoolsreaches,they should enforce what is essentialand distinctive in man: "rea'
TI HUMAN,ALL.TOO-HUMAN Goethe, power'-so highest sonand science,marfsoery at least,judges. The gieai scientist von Baer seesth-e superiority of Europeansover Asiatics in their trained ability-to giv-e te"so-rrsfor what they believ*something of which the latter are wholly incapable. Europe has gone through the school of consistent,critical thinking; Asia still does not know how to distinguishbetweentruth and poetry, and is not consciousof whether its convictionJ are-derived from personalobservationand' methodical thinking or from fantasies. Europe was made Ewope by reasonin the schools; in the Middle AgesEuropewas on the way to becoming a piece and an appendixof Asia again-by losing the scientiffc sensethat it owed to the Greeks. lzztl Thc art of ilrauing inferences.The greatestprcgress men have nade lies in their learning how to draw cornaturaf rect inferences.That is by no meanssomething *Of inference, assumes when he says: as Schopenhauer all are capable;of judgment,only a few." ft has been learned only late, anri it still has not gained dominance. False inferencesare the rule in earlier times; and the mythology of all peoples,their magic and their superstition, their religious cults, their laws, are inexhaustible mines of proof for this proposition" lzSrl Highet culturc is twcessarilymi,wnilerstood.He who has but two strings on his instrument-like the scholars who, in addition to the urge for knowledge,'haveonly the religious urge,'instilled by educatiort-does not understand those who can play on more strings. It is of
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 58 the essenceof the higher, multi-stringed culture that it is ahvaysmisinterpretedby the lower cultur*_ as hap pens, fbr example,when art is considereda disguised iorm of religion-.Indeed peoplewho are only religious understandlven seienceas a searchof the religious feeling, just as deaf-rnutesdo not know what music is' if it is not visible movement.
Izs8] The most dnngerousparty member. In every party there is one memberwho, by his all-too-devoutpro' nouncement of the party principleg provokes the othersto apostasY.
lsosl One often contradicts_anopinWIry one contrad,ic-ts, ion wlien it is really only the tone in which it has been presentedthat is unsymPathetic. lg6rl The expefienceof Soctotes.When one has become a master in some ffeld one has usually, for that very reason, remained a complete amateur in most other things; but one judges iust the oth-erway around, as Socrites had ahLady found out. This is what makes associationwith mastersdisagreeable.l
lasol Frcm the mothet. Everyone carries in himself an rmage of woman derived from the mother; by tlis fg is ietermined to revere lvomen generally, or to hold them in low esteem,or to be generally in&fferent to tlem. t Wagoerliked to be called'master.-
HUM.{N,.{LL-TOO-HUMAN
59
lsgol Frfendship with, women Women can form a friendship with a man very well; but to preserveit-to that end a slight physicalantipathymust probablyhelp. [+o6] Martiage as o long conoercation When marrl,ing, one should ask oneself this question: Do you believe that you will be able to conversewell with this woman into your old age? Everything .else in marriage is transitory, but the most time during the association belongsto conversation.
lcozl CirW ilreams. Inexperieneeilgirls fatter themselves with the notion that it is within their power to make a man happy; later they learn that it meansholding a man in low esteemto assumethat only a girl is needed to make him happy. The vanity of women demands that a man be more than a h"ppy husband.
[+o8] Faust and, Gretchen dging out. According to the very good insight of a scholar, the educated men of contemporaryGermanyresemblea mixture of Mephistopheles and Wagner, but certainly not Faust, whom our grandfathers,at least in their youth, still felt stirring within. Thus there are two reasons-to continue this propositiorr-why the Gretchensare not suitable for them. And since they are no longer desired, they apparently die out lqzql Somethtngabwt the future of martiage.Ihose noble free-spiritedwomen who have made the educationand
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
elevation of the female sex their task should not overlook one consideration:marriage, according to its highest conception as e friendship between the souls of two human beings of different sex, in other words, as it is hoped for in the futurg concludedfor the purpose of begetting and educating a new generationsuch a marriage,which usesthe sensual,as it were, only as a rare meansto a greater end, probably requires, I fear, a natural aid: corwubinage.If, for reasonsof the husband'shealth, the wife should also serye for the sole satisfaction of the sexual need, then the choice of a wife will be decisivelyinfluencedby a false considerationthat is contrary to the aims suggested; the productionof offspringbecomesaccidental,and a good education highly improbable. A good wife-who is supposedto be friend, helper, bearer of children, mother, head,of the family, manager, and who may even have to stand at the head of her own businessor ofice, quite apart from her husband
l+q+1 War. Against war one can say: It makes the victor stupid, the vanquished malignant. In favor of war:
O1 HUMAN,ALL-TOO.HUMAN thereby and barbarizes it Through both of theseefiects makeslnorenatural; it is a sleepor a winter for culture, and man emergesfrom it strongerfor good and evil
l+6zl My utopia, In a better arrangement of- soeiety hard laboi and the troubles of life will be meted out to tlose who sufier least from them; hence, to the most obtuse, and then, step by step, uP to those who are most sensi' tive to the highest and most sublimated kinds of suffer' ing and who thus still sufier when life is made easiesl
[+6s] Resurrectionof the spirit. On the political sickbed a spirit' people -aftei is usually rejuvenatedand rediscoversits having gradually lost it in seekingand preserving Inwer. Culture owesits peaksto pohtically weak ages'
Iqzsl The European rwrn and. the aboktion of natiorxTrade and industry, bools and letters, the way i'l which all higher culture is shared, the rapid change of house and scenery, the present nomadic life of everyone who is not a landowner-these circumsta[c€s rr€cessarily produce a weakening, and ftnally the abolition, of nations, at least in Europe; and as a consequence of continual intermarriage there must develop a mixed race, that of the European man. . . . It is not the interest of the rrany (of peoples), as is often claimed' but above all the interest of ce*ain royal dynasties and also of certain classes in commerce and society, that drives to nationalism. Once one has recognized this, one should declare oneself without embarrassment as a good European and work actively for the amalga-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE A2 nations. In this pr6€ss the Germanscould maHon of be helpful by virtue of their long proven skill as interpreters and mediaton among peoples. exists Incidentally, the whole problem of the "Ieax only in nation states,for here their energy and higher intelligence, their accumulated capital of spirit and will, gatheredfrom generationto generationtluough a long schoolingin suffering,must becomeso preponderant as to arouse massenvy and hatred. In almost all contemporary nations, therefore-in direct proportion to the degree to which they act up nationalisticallythe literary obscenityis spreadingof leading the Jews to slaughter as scapegoatsof every conceivablepublic and intemal misfortune. As soon as it is no longer a matt€r of preserving nationq but sf producing the strongestpossibleEuropeanmixed racg the Jew is iust as useful and desirablean ingredient es any other national remnant Unpleasant,even dangeroug qualities can be found in every nation and every individual: it is cnrel to demand that the Jew be an exception. In hirr, thesequalities may even be dangerousand revolting to an unusual degree; and perhaps the young stock-exchangeJew is altogether the most disgusting invention of mankind. In spite of tha! I should like to know how much one must forgive a people in a total acrounting when they have had the most painful history of all peoples,not without the fault of all of us, and when one owesto them the noblestman (Christ)' the purest sage (Spinoza), the most powerful boolg and the most efiective moral law in the world. Moreover, in the darkest times of the Middle Ages, when the Asiatic cloud masseshad gathered heavily over Europe, it was Jewish free-thinkers, scholars, and physicians who clung to the banner of enlightenment and spiritual independencein the face of the hanhest
HUMAN, ALL-TOO.HUMAN 89 personal pressures and defended Europe against Asia. We owe it to their exertions, not least of all, that a more natural, more rational and certainly unmythical explanation of the world was eventually able to triumph again, and that the bond of culture which now links us with the enlightenment of Greco-Rorltll ttttiquity remained unb6ken. If Christianity has done everything to orientalize the Occident, fudaism has helped signiffcantly to occidentalize it again and again: in a certain sense this means as much as making Europe's task and history a continuation of the Greels
l+8zl And, to say it once more, Pubhc opinions-private lazinesses.
[+8s] Etwmies of truth. Convictions are more dangerous enemiesof truth than lies.
lsa6l Tlw oalue of htsipld oppownt* At times one remains faithful to a cause only becauseits opponents do not ceaseto be insipid.
lszsl Not suitable as a party member. Whoever thinks much is not suitable as a party member: he soon tbinks himself right through the pa*y.
I6gsl On the whole, scientiffcmethodsare at least as important as any other result of research:for it is upon the insight into method that the scientific spirit depends: and if these methodswere lost, then all the
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
results of sciencecvuld not prevent a renewedtriumph of superstitionand nonsense.Clever people may learn as much as they wish of the results of science-still one will alwap notice in their conversation,and especially in their hypotheses,that they lack the scientiffc spirit; they do not have that instinctive mistrust of the aberrationsof thought which through long training are deeply rooted in the soul of every scientiffcperson. llhey are content to ffnd any hypothesisat all concerning somematter; then they are all ffre and flame for it and think that is enough. To have an opinion means for them to fanaticize for it and thenceforth to pressit to their hearts as a conviction. If something is unexplained, they grow hot over the first notion that comes into their heads and looks like an explanatioewhich results progressivelyin the worst consequences,especially in the sphere of politics. For that reasoneveqyone should noy study at least one sciencefrom the bottom up: then he will know what metlod meansand how important ls the utrnost circumspection.. . .
FNOM
Il[ixeil 0pinionsanrlMaxims sorron's Norp Ia r8Zg Nietzsche brought out another collection of aphorisnrsunder this title, as a sequel to Hu.maq All'TooHumaq published the year before.
tttl Dtsslpatbn. The mother of dissipationis not ioy but joylessness
MIXED OPINIONSAND MAXIMS
nLooe,'
O5
tssl
llhe most subtle artiffcrethat distinguishes Christianity from other religions is a word: it speals of, looe. Thus it becamethe lyrical religion (whereas in both their other creationsthe Semitespresentedthe world with heroic-epicreligions). There is something so ambiguousand suggestiveabout tlre word love, somethingthat speals to memory and to hope, that even the lowest intelligence and the coldest heart still feel something of the glimmer of this word. The cleverest woman and the most vulgar man recall the relatively leaStselfsh momentsof their whole life, even if Eros has taken only a low flight with them; and for tlose countlessoneswho rnisslove, whether from their parents or their children or their beloved, and especially for people with sublimatedsexuality,Cbristianity has always been a ffnd.
lrzsl Reailprs of aphorisns. The worst readers of aphorismsare the authort friends if they are intent on guessing back from the general to the particular instance to which the aphorism owes its origin; for with zuch pot-peeking they reduce the authort whole effort to nothing;so that they deservedlygain,not a philosophic outlookor instruction,but-at best,or at worst-nothing more than the satisfactionof wlgar curiosity. lqrl Sign of rode. llJl poets and writers who are in love with the superlaUvewant more than they are capable of.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE
lzozl Iokes.Ajoke is the epigramon the deathof a feeling. legrl Humanenessin friendshtp and mastership.'If thou It go toward momins. wilt moming, then I will will go so toward toward eveevening": to feel this way is a high sign of humaneness humanenessin a closer association: without this feeling, every friend-
ship,everydiscipleship andpupilship,becomes at one time or anotherhypocrisy, lzcSl Wag to a Christian oirtue, Learning from one's enemies is the best way toward loving them; for it makesus grateful to them. Izttj Eoery phil.osophgis the philosophyof somestageof life. The stageof life at which a philosopherfound his doctrine reverberatesthrough it; he cannot prevent this, however far above time and hour he may feel. Thus Schopenhauer's philosophyremainsthe refecHon of ardentand melancholygouth-it is no way of thinking for older people.And Plato'sphilosophyrecallsthe middle thirties, when a cold and a hot torrent often roar toward eachother, so that a mist and tenderlittle clouds form-and under favorablecircumstancesand the rays of the sun, an enchantingrainbow. lgorl The party rnan. \"be true party man leams no longer -he only experiencesand judges; while Solon, who
67 MIXED OPINIONSAND MAXIMS was nevera party man but Pursuedhis goal alongside and above the parties, or against them, is characteristieally the father of that plain maxim in which the 'I health and inexhaustibilityof Athens is contained: grow oltl and always continue to leam."
lgszl Unfaithfulness,a cond,itiorl of mostership.Nothing avails: every masterhas but one disciple,and that one becomesunfaithful to him, for he too is destined for mastership.
Iao8) The ioumey to Had,es.Itoo havebeenin the underand I shallyet return thereoften; world, like Odysseus, and not only sheephave I sacriffcedto be able to talk with a few of the dead,but I have not sparedmy orvn blood. Four pain did not deny themselvesto me as I sacriffced:Epicurus and Montaigne,Goetheand Spinoza, Plato and Rousseau,Pascal and Schopenhauer. With these f must come to terms when I have long wanderedby myself; they shall tell me whether I am right or wrong; to them I want to listen when, in the process,they tell each other whether they are right or wrong. . . .
68
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE FROM
TheWandererandHis Shadow rbrron's Norr This coilectionof aphorismswas ffrst publishedin r88o, as tlre ffnal sequelto Human, All-Too-Human
tssl The bite of conscience.The bite of conscience,like the bite of a dog into a stone, is a stupidity.
l+81 Prohibitions without reesons.A prohibition, the reason for which we do not understand or admit, is almost a command not only for the stubborn but also for those who thirst for knowledge: one risks an experiment to ffnd out wlry the prohibition was pronounced. Moral prohibitions, like those of the Decalogue, are suitable only for an age of subjugated reason: now, such a pro*Thou shalt not kill" or "Thou shalt not hibition as commit adultery," presented without reasons, would have a harmful ratler than a useful effecL
tssI The persecutor of God.. Paul thought up the idea, and Calvin re-thought it, that for innumerable people damnation has been decreed from eternity, and that this beautiful world plan was instituted to reveal the glory of God: heaven and hell and humanity are thus supposed to exist-to satisfy the vanity of God! What cruel and insatiable vanity must have fared in the soul of the man who thought this up first, or second. Paul has remained Saul after all-the persecutor of God.
THE WANDIRER AND HIS SHADO1Y
69
l86l If all goeswell, the time will c,omewhen, Socrotes, to develop oneself morally-rationally, one will take up the memorabilia of Socratesrather than the Bible, and when Montaigne and Horace will be employecl as precursors and guides to the understanding of the simplest and most imperishable mediator-sage, Socrates. The roads of the most divergent philosophic ways of life lead back to him; at bottom they are the ways of life of the di$erent temperaments, determined by reason and habig and in all cases pointing with their peala to which one joy in life and in one's own self-from might well infer that the most characteristic feature of Socrateswas that he shared in all temperaments.Above the founder of Christianity, Socrates is distinguished by the gay kind of seriousnessand that uisdom f"ry ot p,ranLs which eonstitute the best state of the soul of man. Moreover, he had the'geater intelligence.
Iv+7 The Faust idea. A little seamstressis seduced and made unhappy; a great scholar in all four branches of learning is the evildoer. Surely that could not have happened without supernatural interference? No, of course notl Without the aid of the incamate devil the great scholar could never have accomplished this. 'tra$e Should this really be the greatest German idea," as is said among Germans?But for C'oethe even this idea was still too terrible. His mild heart could 'the good soul not help putting the little seamstresg who forgot herself but once," close to the saints after her involuntary death; indeed, by a triek played on the devil at the decisive moment, he even brought the great scholar to heaven at iust the right time-"the
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 70 good man'with the "darkling aspiration"lAnd there, in heaven,the lovers ffnd each other again. Goetheoncesaid that his nahrrewas too conciliatory for the truly tragic. lztzl Clnssicaland romatXic.The classicallydisposedspirits no less than those romantically inclined-as these two speciesalways exist-carDr a vision of the future: but the former out of a sbength of their time; the latter, out of its weakness.
lessl Why beggarsstill lan.If all alms were given only from prty, all beggarswould have starved long ago.
tz+oj Why beggars still koe. The greatestgiver of alms is cowardice.
lz6rl Letter. A letter is an unannounced,visit; the mailman, the mediatorof impolite incursions.One ought to have one hour in every eight days for receiving letters, and then take a bath.
lzozj There ore rw edrucators. As a thinker, one should speak only of self-education. The education of youth by others is either an experimen! conducted on one as yet unknown and unknowable, or a leveling on principle, to make the new character, whatever it may be, conform to the habits and customs that prevail: in both cases, therefore, something unworthy of the tlinkertfie work of parents and teachers, whom an audaciously honest person has called tws empmis twturels,
7I THE WANDERERAND HIS SHADOW has one world the of in opinion the when One dan lone been educated,one- discoversoneself: that is whErethe task of the thinker be$ns; now the time has cometo invokehis aid-not as an educatorbut as one who has educatedhimselfand thus has experience. lzSzj eoil, As few peopleas possi' The teacher& necessar7 ble betrveenthe productivespirits and the hungering, receiving spilitsl For the intermediariesfalsify, the nourishmentalmost automaticallywhen they mediate it: then, as a rewardfor their mediation,they want too much for themselves,which is thus taken away from the originalproductivespirits;namely,interest,admiration, dme, money, and other things. Henee one should considerthe teacher,no less than the shopkeeper,a necessalFevil, an evil to be kept as small as possible. If the trouble in the Germansituationtoday hasperhaps its main reasonin the fact that too many people live by trade and want to live well (and thus seek to cut the producer'sprices as much as possiblewhile at the sametime raising the prices to the consumer,in order to derive an advantagefrom the greatestpossibledamage to both), then one can certainlyftnd a main reason for the spiritual troublesin the sulplus of teachers;on their aecounf one learnsso little and so badly.
lz8+l The meansto real peace.No governmentadmits any more that it keepsan army to satisfyoccasionallythe desire for conquest. Rather the army is supposedto serve for defense,and one invokes the morality that approvesof self-defense.But this implies onet own morality and the neighbor'simmorality; for the neighbor raust be thought of as eagerto attack and conguer
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 72 if our state must think of means of self-defense. Moreover, the reasons we give for requiring an army imply that our neighbor, who denies the desire for conquest iust as much as does our own state, and who, for his part, also keeps an army only for reasons of self-defense, is a hypocrite and a cunning criminal who would like nothing better than to overpower a harmless and awkward victim without any ffght. Thus all states are now ranged against each other: they presuppose their neighbor's bad disposition and their own good disposition. This presupposition, however, is inhu.mane, as bad as war and worse. At bottom, indeed, it is itself the challenge and the cause of wars, because, as I have said, it attributes immorality to the neighbor and thus provokes a hostile disposition and act. We must abjure the doctrine of the army as a means of self-defensejust as completely as the desire for conquests. And perhaps the great day will come when a people, distinguished by wars and victories and by the highest development of a military order and intelligence, and accustomed to'make the heaviest sacriffces for these 'We break the things, will exclaim of its own free will, sword," and wiil smash its entire military establishment down to its lowest foundations. Rend,ering oneself ut armeil uhen one hnd been the best-arrned, out of a is the means to real peacg height of feeling-that which must always rest on a peace of mind; whereas the so+alled armed peacc, as it now exists in all countries, is the absence of peace of mind. One trusts neither oneself nor one's neighbor and, half from hatred, half from fear, does not I'ay down arms. Rather perish than hate and fear, and tu)ice rather perish than make oncself hated atd, feared-this must someday be-, come the highest maxim for eveqy single commonwealth too.
THE IVANDERER AND HIS SHADOW 78 Our liberal representatives, as is well known, lack the time for reflecting on the nature of man: else they would know that they work in vain when they work for a "gradual decrease of the military burden." Rather, . only when this kind of need has become greatest u'ill the kind of god be nearest who alone can help here. The bee of war-glory can only be destroyed all at once, by a stroke of lightning: but lightning, as indeed you know, comes from a cloud-and from up high.
LETTER To OVERBEcK
,,iiTJtJi'UT:i"',ffi?iJ, . . . Mymother
Bret Harte, M. Twain, E. A. Poe. If you do not yet know the latest book by Twain, The Adoenturesof Tom Sawye4it would be a pleasurefor me to make you a little present of it. . . .
Norrs ( r88o-8r) A girl who surrenders her virginity to a man who has not ffrst sworn solemnly before witnesses that he will not leave her again for the rest of her life not only is considered imprudent but is also called immoral. She did not follow the rnores; she was not only imprudent but also disobedient, for she knew what the mores commanded. Where the mores command differently, the conduct of the girl in such a case would not be called immoral either; in fact, there are regions where it is cousidered moral to lose one's virginity before marriage. Thus the reproach is really directed against disobedience: it is this that is immoral. Is this
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 74 suftcient?Such a gill is consideredcontemptible-but (Imis it that one despises? what hnd of disobedience prudenceis not despised.)One saysof hen she could not control herself, that is why she was disobedient againstthe mores;thus it is the blindnessof the desire that one despises,the animal in the girl. With this in miud, one alsosays:sheis unchaste;by this one could not mean that she is doing what the lawfully wedded wife does, too, without being called unchaste.The moresare then seento demandi:hatone bear the displeasureof unsatisffedclesire,that the desire be able to uait. To be immoral meanstherefore,in this case, despitethe thought not to be able to bear a displeasure A feeling is sapmakes the rules. power that the of posed to be subdued.by a thougltf-more precisely, by the thoughtof fear (whetherit be fear of the sacred moresor of the punishmentand shamethreatenedby the mores). In itself, it is not at all shameful,but natural and fair, that a desirebe satisfiedimmediately. Thereforewhat is really contemptiblein this girl is the ueaknessol her fear. Being moral meansbeing highly accessibleto fear. Fear is the power by which the community is preserved. If one considers, on the other hand, that every original community requires a high degee of fearlessnessin its membersin other respects,then it becomes clear that what is to be fearedin the caseof morality nust inspire fear in the very highestdegree.Therefore mores have been introducedeverywhereas functions of a divine will, hiding under the fearfulnessof gods and demonic means of punishment-and being immoral would then meanr not fearing the inffniteiy fearful. Of anyonewho denied the gods one expectedanything: he was automaticallythe most fearsomehuman
NOTES(1880-81) 75 being, whom no eommunitycould suffer becausehe tore out the rootsof fear on which the communityhad gpown.It was supposedthat in such a persondesire raged unlimited: one consideredevery human being without suchfear inftnitely evil. . . . The more peaceful a communityhas become,the more cowardly the citizens become; the hss aecustomed they are to standingpain, the more will worldly punishmentssuffice as deterrents,the faster will religious threatsbecomesuperfuous.. . . In highly civilized peoples,ffnally, evenpunishmentsshouldbecome highty superfuousdeterrents;the mere fear of shame, the trembling of vanity, is so continually effective that immoral actions are left undone. The refinement of morality increasestogetherwith the reffnementof fear. feelingsin other people Todaythe fear of disagreeable feelings. is almostthe strongestof our own disagreeable One would like ever so much to live in such a way as to do nothing except what causes others agreeable feelings,and even to take pleasurein nothing any more (r" SZz-ZSl that doesnot alsofulffll this condition. 3,:3.3 One hardly dares speak any more of the will to power3 it was different in Athens.
(x, 4t4)
3A€
The reabsorption of semen by the blood is the strongest nourishment and, perhaps more than any other factor, it promptsthe stimulusof power,the unrest of all foreestoward the overcomingof resistances, the thirst for contradictionand resistance.The feeling of power has so far mounted highest in abstinent priests and hermits (for example, among the Brahmins). & +rqt.l
7A
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
FNOM
TheDawn Eotton'g uorn Another cpllection of aphorismg ffrst published in r88r.
lrol First princtple of cioilization. Amongcrude peoples there is a speciesof customs,the intent of which appears to be custom as such: fastidious and at bottom uselessordinances(as, for example,on Kamchatka, never to scrapethe snow off the shoeswith a knife, never to spear a coal with a knife, never.to put any in iron into a fir*and death to him who transgresses such mattersl) whicbi however,keep in the consciousness the perpetual nearnessof custom,the relentless compulsionto live up to custom. To conffrm the great principle with which civilization beginsr any customis better than no custom. I68l The first Christi,an.All the world still believesin the 'Holy Spirit" or is at least still afauthorshipof the fected by this belief: when one opensthe Bible one 'edification.' . . . That it also tells the does so for story of one of the most ambitiousand obtrusiveof souls, of a head as zuperstitiousas it was crafty, the story of the apostlePaul-who knows this, except a few scholarsPWithout this strange story, however, without the confusionsand stormsof sucha head,such a soul, there would be no Christianity; we should scarcelybave heard of a small Jewish sect whosemas-
THE DAWN W ter &ed on the cross.Of course,if this story had been understood in time; if Paul's writings had been read 'Holy Spirit" but with an not as revelations of the honestand free spirit of one'sown, and without at the sametime thinking of all our personaltroubles, if they had,rcaUy been rcad-and for a millennium and a half there were no such readers-then Christianity would have been done for long ago: so much do thesepages of tlre Jewish Pascalerpose the origin of Christianity, iust as the pagesof the French Pascalexposeits destiny and that of whtch it will perish. That the ship of Christianity threw overboard a good cleal of its Jewish ballast, that it went and was able to go, among the pagans-that was due to this one man, a very tortured, very pitiful, very unpleasant man, unpleasanteven to himself. He sufiered from a ffxed idea--or morepreciseln from a ffxed,ever-present never resting question:what about the Jewishlaw? and particularly the fulfillment of this law? In his youth he had himself wanted to satisfy it with a ravenoushunger for this highest distinction which the Jews could conceive-ttris people who were propelled higher than any other people by the imagination of the ethically sublime, and who alone succeededin creating a holy god together with the idea of sin as a transgression against this holiness.Paul becamethe fanatical defender of this god and his law and guardian of his honor; at the sametime, in the struggle against'the transgressorsand doubters,llong in wait for them, he becameincreasinglyharshand evilly disposedto them, and inclined toward the most extreme punishments. And now he found that-hot-headed, sensual,melancholy, malignant in his hatred as he warhe was himself unable to fulfill the law; indeed, and this seemed strangestto hin5 his extravagantlust to domineerpro-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 78 wked him _continuallyto transgressthe law, and he had to yield to this thorn. Is it really his -camal nature' that makeshim trans. gress again and again?And not rather, as he himself suspectedlater, behind it the law itself, which must constantlyprove itself unfulffllable and which lures him to transgressionwith inesistible chamr? But at that time he did not yet have this way out. He had much on his conscience-he hints at hostility, murder, ma$c, idolatry, Iewdnesqdrunkenness,and pleasurein diJso. lute carousing-and . . . momentscamewhen he said to himself: 'It is all in vain; the torture of the unfulfilled law cannot be overcome.'Luther may have had similar feelings when, in his monastery,he wanted to becomethe perfect man of the spiritual ideal: and iust as Luther one day beganto hate the spiritual ideal ind the Pope and the sainb and the whole clerisy with a true, deadly hahed-all the more the less he could o\iln it to himself-*o it was with Paul. The law was the crossto which he felt himself nailed: how he hated itl how he resenteditl how he searchedfor somemeanr to annihilateit-not to fulftll it any more himselfl And ffnally the saving thought struck him, together with a vision-it could scarcelyhave happenedotheryise to this epileptic. . . . PauIheard the words: "Why dost tlou persecute me?P T'he essential occrurence, how€ver,was this: his head had suddenlyseena light: nlt is anreasorublei he had said to himself, 'to persecute this JesuslHere after all is the way out; here is the perfect revenge; here and nowhere else I have and hold the annililatot of thc lnwf. . . Until then the ignominious death had seemedto him the chief argument against the Messianic claim of which the adherents of the new doctrine spoke: but what if it were necessaryto get rid of the law?
7g THE DAWN this of idea, this of The Bemendousconsequences solution of the riddle, spin beforehis eyes;at one stroke he becomesthe happiestman; the destinyof the Jews -no, of all merr-seems to him to be tied to this idea' to this secondof its suddenillumination; he has the thoughtof thoughts,the key of keys,the light ofJights; it is-around him that all history must revolve henceforth. For he is from now on the teaeherof the anni' hilation of the law. . . . This is the ffrst Christian,the inventor of Christianity. Until then there were only a few Jewish sectarians.
lz6l Thinking edl meansmaking eoil.l\e passionsbe' come evil-and lnsidiouswhen they are consideredevil in turrr' and insidious.Thus Christianityhas succeeded ing Eros and AphroditFgreat powers' capable-of icEaUzaUon-into- hellish goblins. . . . In themselves the sexualfeelings,like thoseof prty and adoration,are such that one human being thereby gives pleasureto anotherhumanbeing throughhis delight; one doesnot encountersuch benJffcentirangements too frequently in nature. And to slanderjust sucha one and to coruPt it through bad consciencelTo associatethe pro'creation of man with bad corlseiencel In the end this transformationof Eros into a devil wound up as a comedy: gradually the'devil" Eros be' came more interesting to men than all the angelsand saints,thanks to the whispering and the secret-mongeF ing of the Churchin all eroticmatters:this hashad the eftict, right into our own time, of making the lnoe story the only real interest sharedby all circles-in an exagin geration whieh would have been in-comprehensible at sourolaughed antiguity and which will yet be d a y .. . .
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[8+l The philology of Chrlstionity. How little ChrisHanity educatesthe senseof honesty and justice can be seen pretty well from the writings of its scholars: they advance their conjecturesas blandly as dogmasand are hardly ever honestly pelplexed by the exegesisof a 'I Biblical verse. Again and again they say, am right for it is written," and the interpretation that follows is of such impudent arbitrarinessthat a philologist is stoppedin his tracks, torn betweenanger and laughter, Is this honest? and keepsashng himself:Is it possibleP fs it even decent? What dishonestiesof this sort are still peqpetrated from Protestantpulpits today, how crudely the preachers exploit the advantage that nobody can intemrpt them, how the Bible is pricked and pulled and the a,rt of reading bad,Iyformally inculcated upon the peopleall this will be underestimatedonly by those who go to church either never or always. In the end, however, what are we to expect of lhe aftereffectsof a religion that enacted during the centuries of its foundation that unheard-of philological farce about the Old Testament?I refer to the attempt to pull away the Old Testamentfrom,under the feet of the Jew.s-with the claim that it containsnothing but Christian doctrines and belongsto the Christiansas the tnnlsrael, while the Jewshad merely usurped it. Anil now the Christians lelded to a rage of interpretation and interpolation, which could not possibly have been acreompanied by a good conscience.However much the scholars protested,everywherein the OId TestaJewish ment there were supposedto be referencesto Christ and only to Christ, and particularly tolis cross.Wherever any pieceof wood, a switch, a ladder, a twig, a tree,
8I THE DAWN to supposeil was this a willow, or a stafi is mentioned, ' ' ' cross' the of the wood indicate a prophecy of Has any6odywho claimedthis ever belieoeil it? ' ' '
lwj Ona becomesmoral-mt becauseone ls moral' Submissionto morality can be slavish or vain or selffshor resiened or obtusely enthusiasticor thoughtlessor an act"of desperation,iike zubmissionto a prince: ln itself it is nefhing moral.
Iror] Doubtful To accepta faith iust becauseit is custoslary, meansto be dishonesbto be corryardly,io be lary. aid ao dishonesty,cowardice,and lazinessthen appear as the presuppositionof moralitY? lragl come into the world? As is reason did Reason,How ftaing, in an irrational manner, by accident One will barreto guessat it as at a riddle. l16+l Petlwps prcmafine, . . . there is no morality tq! alone makei motal, and every ethic that affirms itself exclusivelykills too much good strength and_costshumanity too dearly. lhe deviants,who are so frequently the inventive and fruidul ones,shall no longer be sacriffed; it shdl not even be considered infamous to deviate ftom rrorality, in thought and deed; numerous new e4perimentsof life and society shall be made; a tremendousburden of bad conscieneeshall be removed from the world-these most general aims should be recognizedand promoted by all wbo are honest and seektruth.
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lrzgl Tln eulogistsof work. Behinil the gloriffcation ol 'worK and-the tirelesstalk of the "blessingsof worF I ffnd the samethought as behind the praise of imper' sonalactivity for the public benefft:the fear of everything individual. At bottom, one now feels when confronted with work-and what is invariably meant is relentless industry from early till late-that suchwork is the best police,-that it keeps everybody in- harness1nd powerfully obstructsthe developmentof reasorqot covetousFor it usesup a ness,of the desirefor independence. tremendousamount of nervous energy and takes it away from reflection,brooding, dreaming,worry, love' and-hatred;it alwayssetsa small goal beforeone'seyes and permits easyand regular satisfactions.In that way a so":i"ty in which the memberscontinually work hard will have more security: and security is now adored as is--prethe supreme goddess.And now-horrorsl-it *woiker' who has becomedangerous."Dancisely lhe gerousindividualsare swarmingall around.And behind Iheuu the dangerof dangem:the individual.
lrzsl As little state as possible.All political and economic arrangementsare not worth it, that precisely-the most gifted spirits shouldbe permitted,or even obliged,to -managethem: such a waste of spirit is really-worse Theseare and remainffeldsof work In exbemity. than for the lesserheads,and other than lesserheadsshould not be at the serviceof this workshop:it were better to let the machinego to piecesagain. . . .-At such a price, onepavsfar too dearlyforthe'general security"; and what ls-most insane,one also producesthe very oppositeof the generalsecurity, as our dear century is
THE DAWN 8g proved never been it had if prove-as to undertaking before. To make societysecureagainstthievesand fireproof and inffnitely comfortable for every trade and activity, and to transform the state into Providencein the good and bad sense-these are low, mediocre,and goals,for which one shouldnot not at all indispensable strive with the highest means and instruments anywhere in existence,the meansone ought to reservefor the highest and rarest ends. Our time, however much it talki of economy,is a squanderer;it sguanderswhat is most precious,the spirit.
lrgsl Etyit and moralitg. The Germans,who hrow the secr* of being boring with spirif knowledge,and feeling, and who have a&ustomedthemselvesto feel boredom as moral, fear the French eryritlest it prick out the eyes of morality-fear and yet are charmed, like the little bird befoie the rattlesnake.Of the famous Germans, perhaps -that, none had more esprit than Hegel; but he too feared it with a grcat Cerman fear, for all of this which createdhis peculiarbad style.The essence style is that a core is wrapped around, and wrapped around again and again, until it scarcely peeks out, oyoung women look through bashful and curious-as their veils," to quote the old woman-hater,Aeschylus; that core, however,is a witty, often pert perception about the most spiritual things, a delicate and daring connectionof words, such as belongsin the company of thinkers, as a side dish of science-but in those wrappingsit presentsitself as abstrusescienceitself, and by all meansas the most highly moral boredom. Thus the Germarshad their permissibleform of es;rif, and they enjoyedit with such extravagantdelight that good, very good, intelligencefroze at Schopenhauerb
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
the mere sight: all his life he stormed against the spectacleoffered him by the Germans,but never could explain it to himself.
lryzj The hostilitg of the Germans to the Enlightennrent. Let us reconsider the contribution to culture in general made by the Germans of the ffrst half of this century with their spiritual labor, and let us ffrst take the Gerrnan philosophers. They have reverted to the ffrst and most ancient stage of speculation, for they have been satisfied with concepts instead of explanations, like the thinkers of dreamy ages; they revived a prescientiffc kind of philosophy. Second, there are the German historians and romantics: their general effort was directed toward gaining a plac'e of honor for more ancient, primitive feelings, and especially Christianity, the folk soul, folk sagas, folk language, medievalism, Oriental aesthetics, Indianism. Third, there are the natural scientists: they fought against the spirit of Newton and Voltaire and sought, like Goethe and Schopenhauer, to restore the idea of a divine or devilish nature and its entirely ethical and symbolical significance. The whole great tendency of the Germansran counter to the Enlightenmen! and to the revolution of society which by a crude misunderstanding, was considered its consequence: piety toward everything still in existence sought to transform itself into piety toward every' thing thit has ever existed, only to make heart and spirit full once again and to leave no room for future gbals and innovations. The cult of feeling was erected in place of the cult of reason; and the German musicians, as the artists of the invisible, the enthusiastic, the fabulous, and the pining, helped to build the new temple with more successthan all the artists of words
THE DAWN 85 and thoughts.Even if we admit that a vast amountof good was spoken and investigated in detail and that manythings arenow judgedmorefairly than everbefore, we must still sayof this developmentasa whole: it was no slight universal danger, under the semblanceof full and ffnal knowledgeof the pasl to subordinateknowledge to feeling altogether and-to speak with Kanf who thus determinedhis own task-'to open the way again for faith by showingknowledgeits limits." Let us breathefree air again: the hour of this danger has passed.And sbangely, those very spirits which were so eloquently conjured up by the Germanshave in the long run becomemost harmful to the intentions of the conjurers. History, the understandingof origin and development,sympathywith the past, the renewed passionof feeling and knowledge,after they all seemed for a time helpful apprenticesof this obscurantist,enthusiastic,and atavisticspirit, changedtheir nature one ffne day and now soarwith the broadestwings past their old conjurersand upward, as new and strongergeniusesof that very Enlightenment against which they were cgnjured up. This Enlightenmentwe must now advanc€ further-unconcerned with the fact that there has been a 'great revolution" againstit, and then a 'great reaction" again; indeed that both still edst: all this is mere play of the waves comparedto that truly geat tide in which ar drift and want to drift Izozl Prcmoting health, We have scarcelyb"g,ro to refeet on the physiology of the criminal5 and yet we are.already confronted with the indisputable realization that there is no essentialdifference between criminals and the insane-presupposing that one believes that the customaryway of moral thinking is the way of thinking
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
of spiritual health. No faith, however, is still as ffrmly believed as this, and so we should not shrink from drawing its consequencesby treating the criminal as an insaneperson: above all, not with haughty mercy but with the physician'sgood senseand good will. A changeof air, difierent company,temporary disappearance, perhapebeing alone and having a new occuPation, are what he needs.Goodt Perhapshe himself considersit to his advantageto live in custody for a while to ffnd protection againsthimself and a burdensome t)ryannicalurge. Goodl One should presenthim quite clearly with the possibilityand the meansof a cure (the extirpation, reshaping,and sublimationof that drive); also,in a.bad case,with the improbability of a cure; and one shouldoffer the incurablecriminal, who has becomea horror to himself, the opportunity to commit suicide. Reservingthis as the most extreme meansof relief, one should not neglectanything to give back to the criminal, above all, conffdenceand a free mind; one should wipe pangs of consciencefrom his and give him pointersas to soul as someuncleanliness how he might balanceand outbid the harm he may have done to one personby a good tum to another,or perhapsto societyas a whole.All this with the utmost And aboveall, anonymityor a new name consideration. frequent change and of place, so that the irreproachreputation and his fuhue life be endan' his reputatrot abilitv ability abtuty ot of nrs gered as little as possible.
Today, to be sure, he who has been harmed always wants his revenge, quite apart from the guestion of how this harm might be undoneagain,and he turns to the courts for its sake;for the presentthis maintains our abominablepenal codes,with their shopkeeper's scalesand the desireto balanceguilt and punishment. But shouldnt we be able to get beyond this? How
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relieved the generalfeeling of life would be if, together rvith the belief in guilt, we could also get rid of the ancient instinct of revenge,and if we even considered it a ffne clevernessin a happy personto Pronounc€a blessingover his enemies,with Christianity,and if we benefftedthose who had offendedus. Let us remove the concept of sin from the world-and let ut soon send the concept of punishment after it May these banishedmonstirs live somewhereelsehenceforth,not amongmen, if they insist on living at all and do not of their own disgust. perish I{eanwhile let us considerthat the losswhich society and indivi
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as yet, tle churchesare not ln the hands of the promotersof health; as ye! to teach about the body and the diet is not one of the obligations of all lower and higher schools;as yet, there are no quiet organizations of those who have acceptedthe commonobligation to renouncethe help of courts and punishmentand revenge against their evildoers; as yet, no thinker has had the courageto measurethe health of a societyand of individuals by the number of parasites they can stand. . . .
lzosl Of the people of lsrael. Among the spectaclesto which the next century invites us is the decisionon the fate of the EuropeanJews. . . . Every Jew has in the history of his fathers and grandfathersa mine of exin amplesof the coldestcomposureand steadfastness terrible situations.. . . There hasbeenan efrort to makethem contemptible by treating them contemptibly for two thousandyears and by barring them from accessto all Lonors and everything honorablg thus pushing them that much deeperinto the dirtier trades;and under this procedure they have certainly not becomecleaner.But contemptible? They themselveshave never ceasedto believein their calling to the highest things, and the virtues of all who suffer have never ceasedto adorn them. The way in which they honor their fathers and their children and the rationalityof their marriagesand marital customsdistinguishthem aboveall Europeans.In addition, they knew how to create for themselvesa feeling of power and etemal revengeout of those very trades which were abandonedto them (or to which they were abandoned);one must say, in excuseeven of their
89 THE DAWN usury, that without this ocrasional,agreeable,and use' ful iorture of their despisersthey could scarcelyhave perseveredso long in respecting themselves.For our ielf-respectdependson our ability to repay th" g*d as well as the bad. Moreover, their revenge does not easily push them too far; for they { have that free' mindedness,of the soul too, to which frequent change of location, of climate, and of the customsof neighbors and oppressorseducatesman. . . . And-where shall this wealth of accumulatedgreat which Jewishhistory constitutesfor every lmpressions, family, this wealth of passions,virtues, deciJewish '.iont, r"nun"iations,figbts, and victoriesof all kindswhere shall it flow, if not eventually into great spiritual men and works? Then, when the Jews can point to such gems and golden vesselsas their work, such as the Europeanpeopleswith their shorterand lessdeep experienci cannot produce and never could; when Iseternal revengernto into an its eternal will have transtormeclits rael will rael have transformed eternal blessingfor Europe; then that seventhday will aqain on on which the ancient ]ewish oomeonce oome once again Tewishgod may rejoicein himself,his creation,and his chosenpeoplearid aI of us, all of us want to rejoice with h;ml .
[zo6] The impossibleclass,Poor, gay, and independentthat is possibletogether. Poor, gay, and a slave-that is possibletoo. And I would not know what better to say to the workers in factory slavery-provided they do not considerit altogethershamefulto be used up as they are, like the gears of a machine,and in a sense as stopgapsof human inventiveness. Phewl to believe that higher pay could abolish the essenceof their misery-I mean their impersonalserf-
90
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
domt Phewl to be talked into thinking that an increase workings imoenonalitv. within \r'ithin the machinelikeworkinqs in this impersonality, of a new society,could transform the shameof slaveqy into a virtuel Phewl to have a price for which one remainsa person no longer but becpmesa gearl Are you co-conspiratorsin the current folly of nations, who want above all to produeeas much as Possible and to be as rich as possible?It would be your afiair to present them with the counterrcalculation: what vast sums of inner worth are thrown away for such an external goal. But where is your inner woflh when you no longer }now what it meansto breathe freelyP when you no longer have the slightest control over yourselves?when you all too frequently become sick of yourselvegas of a stale drink? when you listen to the newspapersand leer at your rich neighbor,made lus$ul by the rapid rise and fall of power, money, and opinionsPwhen you no longer have any faith in philosophy, which wears rags, and in the candor of those who have no wantsPwhen the voluntary idllic [fe of poverty, without occupationor marriagq which might well suit the more spiritual among you, has becomea laughingstockto you? Do your earsring from the pipes of ihe socialisUepied pipers, who want to make you wanton with mad hopes?who biil you be ptepareil and' nothing else, preparedfrom today to tomonow so that you wiit and wait for somethingfrom the outside,and live in every other respectas you have lived beforeuntil this waiting turirs into'hunger and thirst and fever and madnesg and ffnally the day of the bestia triumphans rises in all its glory? Against all this, everyoneshould think in his heart: Sooner emigrate and in savagefresh regions seek to becomemaster of the world, and above all master of myself; keep changinglocation as long as a single sign
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of slaverystill beckonsto me; not avoid adventureand war and be prepared for death if the worst accidents befall-but no more of this indecent serfdom,no more of this becomingsourand poisonousand conspiratoriall Thls would be-the right state of mind: the workers in Europe shoulddeclarethat henceforthas a classthey are a human impossibility, and not only, as is customary, a harshand purposelessestablishment.They should introduce an era of a vast swarmingout from the Ernopean beehivg the like of which has never been experience{ and with this act of emigration in the grand marmer protest against the machine, against capital and againstthe choicewith which they are now threatene4 bf becomingof wcessity either slavesof the state or slavesof a revolutionary party. Let Europe relieve itself of the fourth part of its inhabitantst . . . What at home beganto degenerateinto dangerousdiscontent and criminil tendencieswill, once outside,gain a wild 8nd b€sutiful oatualness and be called beroisrlL . . e
tzgrl Coraption. The surestway to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to holil in higher esteemthose who think alike tban those who think difierently.
lssol The goodfout. Horwst with ourselvesand with whatever is friend to \si caurageosstoward the enemy; genercuctoward the vanquished;polit*always: that is how the four cardinal virtues wsnt us.
Isszl Agaha* an enem!. Horr good bad music and bad reasonssound when one marchesagainstan enemyl
V
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
lszgl Slpddin7 one'sskin. The snakethat cannot shed its shn perishes.So do the spirits who are preventedfrom changing their opinons; they ceaseto be spiriL Posrcenp
ro
OvERBEcK
(Sils Maria, luly gq r88r) I am utterly amazed, utterly enchanted. I have a ptecurso6 and what a precursort I hardly knew Spinoza: that I should have turned to him just noro, was inspired by "instinct." Not only is his over-all tendency like mine-making knowledge the most pouetful afiect -but in ffve main points of his doctrine I recognize myself; this most unusual and loneliest thinker is closest to me precisely in these matters: he denies the free' dom oithe will, teleolog;r, the moral world order, the unegoistic, and evil. Even though the divergencies are admittedly tremendous, they are due more to the difference in time, culture, and science. ln xnrtma: my lonesomeness,which, as on very high mountains, often made it hard for me to breathe and made my blood rush out, is now at least a twosomeness. Strange. Incidentally, I am not at all as well as I had hopeil. Exceptional weather here too. Eternal change of at' will yet drive me out of mosp-herie conditions-that skies have clear I must Europe. for monlhs, else I- get nowlie.e. Already six severe attacks of two or tlree days each. With affectionate love, your friend.
THE CAY SCIENCE
9g
FNOM
The GayScience rorton's NorE Nietzsche's last really aphoristic worh ffrst published in 1882. The title in the English collected editiory logful Wisilom, is a mistranslation.Aphorisms285 and 34r are among the ffrst statementsof the "eternal recurrence."
I+1 Wh& preseroes the species. The strongest and most evil spirits have so far advanced humanity the most: they have always rekindled the drowsing passions-all ordered society puts the passions to sleep; tl'rey have always reawakened the sense of comparison, of contradicdon, of joy in the new, the daring, and the untried; they force men to meet opinion with opinion, model with model. For the most part by arms, by the overthrow of bormdary stones, and by o$ense to the pieties, but also by new religions and moralities. The same "malice" is to be found in every teacher and preacher of the new. . . . The new is always the eoil, as that which wants to conquer, to overthrow the old boundary stones and the old pieties; and only the old is the good. The good men of every age are those who dig the old ideas deep down and bear fruit with them, the husbandmen of the spirit. But all land is ffnally exhausted, and the plow of evil must always return. There is a fundamentally erroneous doctrine in cont€mporary morality, celebrated particularly in England:
THE PORTABLENTETZSCHE 94 *evil" are according to this, the judgments"good" and condensationsof the experiencesconcerning "expodient" and "inexpedient';what is calledgoodpreserves the species,while what is called evil is harmful to the species.In truth, however,the evil urges are expedient and preservethe speciesto as high a and indispensable degreeasthe good ones---onlytheir function is difierent.
ttl Sqmahtng fot the hdastulow, . . . So far, every" thing that has given color to existencestill lacks a histo4y: or, where could one ffnd a history of love, of avarice, of envy, of conscience,of piety, or of cruelty? Even a comparativehistory of law, or merely of punishment, is completely lacking so far. Has anyone yet conducted researchinto the different ways of dividing of a regular arrangement the day and the conseguences of work, holidan and rest? Does one know the moral efiects of food? Is there a philosophy of nourishment? (The ever-renewedclamor for and against vegetarianism is sufficient proof that there is no such philosophy as yet.) Have the experiencesof living together been assembled;for example,the experiencesin t}te mon83teries? Has the dialectic of marriage and friendsbip been presentedas yet? . . .
lgal Htstortoobscotdita, Every geat human being has a rctroactive force: all history is again placecl in the scalesfor his sake,and a thousandsecretsof the past crawl out of their hideouts-into his sun" There is no wtry of telling what may yet becomehistory some-day. Perhaps the past is still essentially undiscoveredl So many retroactive forces are still requiredl
THE GAY SCIENCE
95
lrzsl The Madman. Have you not heanil of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to 'I the market placg and cried incessantly, seek Gotll I seekGodf'As many of thosewho do not believein God were standingaround just then, he provokedmuch laughter. Why, did he get lost? said one. Did he lose his way like a child? said another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us?Has he goneon a voyage?or emigratetl? Thus they yelled and laughed. The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his glances. 'Whither is God'he cried.'I shalltell you. We lwoe kllled hin>you and I. All of us are his murderers But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea?Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchaineil this earth from its sun?Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all sidesuns?Are we not plunging continually?Baclcrward, ward, forward, in all directions? Is there any uP or down left? Are we not strafng as through an inffnite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty spacg? Has it not becomecolder?Is not night and more night coming on all the while? Must not lantemsbe lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggerswho are burlang God? Do we not smell anything yet of Gods decomposition?Goils too decompose.God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, the murderers of all murderers, comfort ourselves?What was holiest and most powerful of all that the world has yet orned has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood ofi us? What water is there for us to clean
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 90 ourselves?What festivals of atonemen! what sacred gamesshall we have to invent? Is not the greatnessof this deed too great for us? Must not we ourselves becomegods simply to seemworthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever will be born after us-for the sake of this deed he will be part of a higher history than all history hitherto.o Here the madmanfell silent and looked again at bis listeners; and they too were silent and stared at him nr astonishment.At last he threw his lantern on ttre ground, and it broke and went out.'I cometoo early,' 'my time has not come yet. This trehe said then; mendousevent is still on its way, still wandering-it has not yet reached the ears of man. Lightning and thunder require time, the light of the stars requires time, deeds rgquire time even after they are done, before they can be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the most distant stanord. get they haoe dano it themseloes.' It has been related further that on that sameday the rradman entered divers churches and ttrere sang his rcquiem aeternarndeo. I.ed out and called to account, he-is said to have replied each timenlMhat are these churchesnow if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God?"
lrgsl Ifords foke, Kant wanted to prove in a way that would dumfound the common man that the common niran was right: that was the secret ioke of tlis soul. He wrote against the scholan in favor of the popular prejudice, but for scholarsand not PoPularly.
lzsol Guiib.Although the most acuteiudgesof the witches, and even the witches themselves,were cpnvinced of
gI TIIE GAY SCIENCA u'as nonthe guilt of witchery, the guilt _nevertheless existlnt. It is thus with all guilt
lzsgl Preparotory men, I welcome all srgnsthat a more manh a wailike, age is about to begin, an age_which, abovl ail, will give honor to rralor once again. For this age shall prepare the way for on9 ye! higher, and it sfi'ail gather the strength which this higher age will need one da)-this age which is to carry heroisn into tle purzuit of knowledge and wage rparcfor the sake of thoughts and their consequences.To this end we *ot o"Jd nany preparatory ialorous men who cannot leap into being out of nothing-any morethan out of the sand and slime of our present civilization and metro' politanism: men who are bent on seeking for that -aspect in all things which must be ooetcome;men characterized by cheerfulness,patience, unpretentiousness' and conte-mptfor all great vanities,as well as by magnanimity in victory and forbearancoregardingthe small of keen and vanities of the vanquished;men possessed free iudgment concirning all victors and the share of chance in every victory and every fame; men who have their own festivals, tleir own weekdays, their own periods of mourning, who are accustomedto comrnand with assuranceand are no less ready to obey when necessary,in both casesequally proud and,serving their own cause;men who are in greater danger, more fruidul, and happierl For, believe me, the secret of the greatestfnridfiess and the greatestenjoyment Build your cities of existence ist to lioe rmder Vesuviusl Send your ships into uncharted seasl Live at war with your pee$ and yourselveslBe robbers and conquerors,as long as you cannot be rulers and owners,you lovers of knowledgel Soonthe age will be
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 98 past wben you could be satisffedto live like shy deer, hiddenin the woodstAt long last the pursuit of knowledge will reach out for its due: it will want to de and oush and you with itl
lz8sl
Ercelsioil -You will never pray again, never adore again,never againrest in endlesstrust; you deny yourself any stopping before ultimate wisdom, ultimate goodnesg ultimate po\i/er, while unharnessing your thoughts;you have no perpetualguardianand friend for your seven solitudes; you live without a view of mountainswith snow on their peaksand ffre in their hearts; there is no avenger for you, no eventual improver; there is no reasonany more in what happens, no love in what will happen to you; no resting place is any longer open to your hearg where it has only to ffnd and no longer to seelc;you resist any ultimate peace, you want the eternal recurrence of war and peace.Man of renunciatiorqdo you want to renounce all this? Who will give you the necessarystrength? Nobody yet has had this strengtlu" There is a lake r*hich one day refused to fow off and erected a dam where it had hitherto flowed offr ever since, this lake has been rising higher and higher. Perhapsthat very renunciationwill also lend us the strength to bear the renunciationitself; perhapsman will rise ever higher when he onc€ ceasesto flau: oot into a god. lzgol One thfng b needful'Giving style" to one'scharacter-a gteat and rare artl It is exercisedby thosewho of their own nasee all the strengthsand weaknesses tures and then eomprehendthem in an'artistic plan
THE GAYSCIENCE 99 reason and even art and appears as until everything weaknessdelightsthe eye.Here a large massof second naturehasbeen added;there a pieceof originalnature has beenremoved:both by long practiceand daily labor. Here the ugly which could not be removedis hidden; there it has been reinterpretedand madesublime. . . . It will be the strong and domineeringnatures who enjoy their ffnestgaiety in such compulsion, in such constraintand perfectionunder a law of their own; the passionof their tremendouswill relentswhen confionted with stylized, conquered,and serving nature; even when they have to build palacesand lay out gardens,tbey demur at giving nature a free hand. Converseln it is the weak characterswithout polver over themselveswho lwte the constraint of stle. . They becomeslavesas soonas they serve;they hate to serve.Suchspirits-and they may be of the ffrst rank -are always out to interpret themselvesand their environment as free nature-wild, arbitrary, fantastic, disorderh astonishing;and they do well becauseonly in this way do they pleasethemselves.For one thing is needful: that a human being attain his satisfaction with himself-whether it be by this or by that poetry and art; only then is a human being at all tolerable to behold. Whoever is dissatisffedwith himself is always ready to revengehimself therefor; we otherswill be his victims, if only by always having to stand his ugly sight. For the sight of the ugly makesmen bad and gloomy. lgrol Will and unoe. How greedily this wave approaches, as if there were some objective to be reachedt Horv, rvith awe-inspiring haste, it crawls into the inmost
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE nooks of the rocky cliffl It seemsthat it wants to anticipate somebody; it seems that something is hidden there, something of value, high value. And now it comes back, a little more slowly, still quite white with excitement-is it disappointed? But already another wave is approaching, still greedier and wilder than the firs! and its soul too seemsto be full of secrets and the lust to dig up treasures. Thus live the waves-thus live we who will-more I shall not say. So? You mistrust me? You are angry with me, you beautiful monsters?Are you afraid that I might betray your secret entirely? Well, then be angry with me! Raise your dangerous green bodies as high as you canl Make a wall between me and the sun-as vou do nowt Verily, even now nothing is left of the worid but green dusk and green lightning flashes.Carry on as you please, you pranksters; roar with delight and malice-or dive again, pouring your emeralds into the deepest depths, and cast your endless white manes of foam and spray suits me, for everything suits over thenr
100
lsrgl A kind of.honesty of our exTteriences, As interpreters has beenalien to all foundersof religionsand others like. &em: they have never made their experiences a matter of conscieneefor knowledge. "What did I really experience? What happened in me then, and around me? Was my reason bright enough? Was my will turned against all deceptions of the sensesand was it csurageous in its resistance to the fantastic?"-none of
THE GAYSCIENCE IOl them has raised such questions;all the dear religious people still do not raise such questionseven now: rather, they have a thirst for things that are agai.nst toason,and they do not want to make it too hard for themselvesto satisfyit. And so they experience"miracles" and.'rebirths" and hear the voicesof the little angelslWe, however,we others,who thirst for reason, want to look our experiencesas straight in the eye as if they representeda scientific experiment,hour after hour, day after day. We ourselveswant to be our experimentsand guineapigs.
ls+ol The d.Eing Socrutes.I admire the courage and wisdom of Socrates in everything he did, said-and did not say. This mocking and enamored monster and pied piper of Athens, who made the most arrogant youths tremble and sob, was not only the wisest talker who ever lived: he was just as great in his silence. . . .
ls+rl The greatest sfrass. How, if some day or night a demon were to sneak after you into your loneliest 'This life as you now live it Ionelinessand say to you, and have lived it, you will have to [ve once more and innumerabletimes more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything immeasurablysmall or great in your life must return to you-all in the samesuocession and seeuenc*ven this spider and this moonIight betrveenthe trres, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existenceis turned over and over, and you with it, a dust grain of dust." Would you not throw yourself down and gnashyour teeth and cursethe demonwho spokethus?Or did you
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE TO2 onee experienee& tremendousmoment when you would have answeredhim,'You are a god, and never have I heard anything more godly." If this thought were to gain possession of you, it would changeyou, as you are, or perhapscrush you. The questionin each and every thing, "Do you want this once more and innumerabletimes more?" would weigh upon your actions as the greateststress.Or how well disposed would you have to becometo yourselfand to Iife to craoenothing moreferoentlythan this ultimate etemal confirmationand seal?
Dnerr or A LETTERro P,lur, Rfu ( r88z) . . . She told me herselfthat she had no moralityand I thought she had, like myself, I more severe morality than anybody. . . .
THUSSPOKE ZARATHUSTRA A B O O KF O R A L I A N D N O N E
Eolron'g Pnerrcg Zaruthustra is by far Nietzsche's most popular book' but Nietzsche himself never witnessed its success.The Srst three parts, each composedin about ten days, were at ffrst published separateln and scarcelysold at all. Of Part Four' 'Niet sche Ua onty a few copies printed privately; and the ffrst public edition was held up at the last moment in r89r when his family feared that it would be conffscatedon a charge of blasphemy. By then Nietzsche was iusane and r,naware of what was happening. Part Four appeared io 1892, and it was not cvnffscated.The ffrst edition of the whole work followed not long after. Zarathusftais as difierent from its reputationas its author is different from the widely reproduced busts and pictures comrnissionedby his sister. Her grandioseconceptionof the heroie strikes us as childish and has provoked the reaction, understandably enough, that Nietzsche was really a merc petit rentier. But perhaps there are more kinds of valor than are &eamed of by most of Nietzsche'sadmirers and detractors. And the most important single clue to Zarathustra is that it is the work of an utterly lonely man. He is shn about ffve-foot-eight, but a little stooped, alnrost blind, reserved, unaftected, anil especially politei he lives in modestboardinghousesin Sils tr{aria,Nizza"Mentone, Rorne,Turin. This is how Stefan Zweig briugs him to 108
THE PORTABI.E NIETZSCHE rO4 -Carefully life for us: the myopic man sits down to a table; carefully, the man with the sensitive stomach considers every item on the menu: whether the tea is not too stron& the food not spiced too much, for every mistake in his diet upsets his sensitivedigestion, aod every transgressionin his nourishment wreala havoc with his quivering nerves for days. No glass.,ofwine, no glass of beer, no alcohol, no coffee at his place, no cigar and no cigarette after his meal, nothing that stimulates, refreshes, or rests him: only the short meager meal and a litde urbang unprofound conversation in a soft voice with an occasionalneighbor (as a man speakswho for years has been unused to talking and is afraid of being askedtoo much). 'And up again into the sma[ narrow, modest, croldly furnished charnbrc gamie, where innumerable notes, pages, yriting$ and proofs are piled up on the table, but no flower, no decoration, scarcely a book and rarely a letter. Back in a corner, a heavy and gracelesswooden trunk, his only possession,with the two shirts and the other worn suit. Otherwise only books and manuscripts,and on a tray innumerable bottles and jars and potrons: against the migraineg which often render him all but senselessfor hours, against his stomach cramps, against spasmodicvomiting, against the slothful intestineg and above all the dreadful sedatives against his insomnia, chloral hy&ate and Veronal. A frightful arsenal of poisons and drugs, yet the only helpers in the ernpty silence of this strange room in which he never rests except in brief and artiffcially conquered sleep. Wrapped in his overcoat and a woolen scarf (for the wretched stove smokes only and does not give warmth), his ffngers fteezing, his double glassespressed close to the paper, his huried hand writes for hourswords the dim eyes can hardly decipher. For hours he sits lke this and writes uotil his eyes burn.' That is the frameworlg which changeslittle wherever he ls. But his letters seemto reveal another dimension,for at times they are shrill and strange and remind us of his vitriolic remark abut Jesus: lt is regettable tbat no Dostoevski lived near him. Who else could do iustice to this
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA 105 welrd, paradoxicalpersonality?Yet the clue to these letters, as also to T.aratla$fis and some of the last books, is that they are the work of a thoroughly lonely man. Sometimes tlrey are really less letters than fantastic fragments out of the soulis dialogue with itself. Now pleasant and polite, nonr such that arroganceis far too mild a word---and yet his feeling of his own importance, painfully pronounced even in some very early letters, was o[ course not as insane as it must have appeared at times to those to whom he wrote. Resignedthat those surroundinghim had no idea who he was, and invariably kind to his social and intellectual inferiors, he sometimesfelt doubly hurt that those who ought to have understood him really had less respect for him than his most casual acquaintances.Book after book-and either no response,or some kind words, which were far more unkind than any serious criticism, (N even good advice, or prty, worst of all. Is it sqprising tllat on rare occasions,when he was suficiently provoked, we ffnd appealsto his old-fashioned senseof honor, even his brief military service, and at one point the idea that he must challenge a man to a duel with pistols?For that matter, he once wrote a close friend: 'The barrel of & pistol is for me at the moment e source of relatively agreeable thoughts.' Then there are his several hasty proposals of marriage, apparently followed by a real senseof relief when the suggestion was refrued politely. The proposalsmay seemguite -Iou fantastic, the more so because,except in the'case of Salom€, no really deep feelings were involvecl. But a few ti-q h9 was desperateenough to grasp at any possibility at all of rescue from the sea of his solitude. In his letters these dramatic outbursts are relatively excrptional. But the histrionics of.Zarahustra should be seet' in the same light. For impulsesttat others vent upon their wives-or friends, or at a party, perhaps over drin[s, Nietz-where sche had no other outlet. In Nizza, he wrote Part Three of Zaruthusfia, he met a young man, Dr. Paneth, who had read the publishedporUonand was.eagerto talk with the author. On December 26, r88g, Paneth wrote 'There home: is not a trace of false pathos or the prophet's
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 106 pose in him, as I hail rather feared after his last work. Instead his manner is completely inoffensiveand natural. We began a very banal conversationabout the climate, Iiving accommodations, and the like. Then he told me. but without the least afiectation or conceit, that he always felt himself to have a task and that now, as far as his eyes would. permit il he wanted to get out of himself and work up whatever might be in him." We might wish that he had taken out his histrionics on Panetlr and spared us some of the melodrama in Zarathustra,In places,of course,the writing is srrperband only a pedant could prefer a drabber style. But often painfully adolescentemotionsdistract our attention frorn ideas that we cannot dismiss as immature at all. For that rnatter, adolescenceis not simply immaturity; it also marks a breakdownof communication,a failure in human relations, and generally the ftrst deep taste of solitude. And what we ffnd again and again in Zarathustra are the typical emotions with which a boy tries to compensatehimself. NieEsche'sapparent blindness to these faults and his extravagantpraise of the book in someof his last works are unilerstandable. His condition had become even more unbearable as time went on; and we should also keep in mind not only the completefailure of the book to elicit any adequate responseor understanding, but also the frantic senseof inspiration which had marked the rapid writing of the ffrst three parts. I\toreover, others ffnd far lesser obstaclessuftcient excusefor creating nothing. Nietzschehail every reason for not writing anything-the doctors, for exanple, told him not to use his eyes for any length of time, and he often wrote for ten hours at a tim*and fashioned work on work, making his sufiering and his tormeots the occasionfor new insights. After all has been said, Zarathusfra still cries out to be blue-penciled; and if it were more compact, it would be more lucid too. Even so, there are few works to match its wealth of ideas, the abundanceof profound suggestions, tlre epigams, the wit. What disting\ishes Zarcthustrc is 'sapphires the profusion of in the mud." But what the
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA TO? by having book loses artistically and philosophically never been critically edited by its author, it gains as a uniquely personalrecord. In a passagethat is quoted agatn as the motto of Part Tbree, Zarathustra asks: "Who among you can laugh and be elevatedat the same timeP The fusion of seriousness and satire, pathos and pun, is as characteristicof the rnessageas it is of the style of the book. This modernblend of the sublime and the ridiculous places the work gomewhere between tte Second Part of Fcasi and Joyce's Ulqssesboth of which, after all, might also have proffted from further editing-and it helpe to account for Nietzsche's admiration for Heine. This overflowing senseof humor, which prefers even a poor jolre to no ioke at all, runs counter to the popular images of Nietzsche-not only to the grim creation of his sister, but also to the piteous porhait of Stefan Zweig, who was, in this respect, still too much rrnder the infuence of Bertram's Nietzsche: Atternpt at a Mythology. Nietzsche had the senseof humor which Stefan George and his minions, very much including Bertram, lacked; and if Zarathusha occasionally excels George's austere prophetic affectation,he soon laughs at his own failings and punctrues his pathos, like Heine, whom George hated. The puncture, however, does not give the impressionof diffident self-consciousnessand a morbid fear of self-betrayal, but rather of that Dionysian exuberancewhich Zaratltustra celebrates. Nietzsche'sfate in the English-speakingworld has been rather unkind, in spite of, or perhapseven in somemeasure becauseof, the e6ullient ent-husiaimof somo of the early English and American Nietzscheans.He has rarely been accorded that perceptive understanding which is relatively clmmon among the French. And when we look back today, one of the main reasonsmust be sotrghtin the inadequacies of some of the early translations,particularly of Zaiathustra. For one thin& they completelymisrepresentthe mood of the-original-beginning, but unfortunately not ending, with their many unjustiffed archaisms,their "thou" and 'ye" with the clumsy attendant verb forms, and their
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE IO8 whole misguided effort to approximate the King James Bible. As if Zarathustra's attacks on the spirit of gravity and his praise of "light feet" were not among the leitmotifs of the bookl In fact, this alone makes trhe work bearable. To be sve, Zarcthu,ytraabounds in allusions to the Bible, most of them highly irreverent, but iust these have been missed for the most part by Thomas Common. His version, Devertheless,was considered a sufficient improvement over Alexander Tillds earlier attempt to merit inclusion in the 'Authorized English Translationof the Complete Works"; and while some of Common's other efforts were supplanted by slightly better translations, his Zarathustra survived, faute ile mieur. Fot that matter, the book comes close to being untranslatable. What is one to do rvith Nietzsche's constant plays on words? Say, in der rechten Wissen4euissenschaft gibt es nlchts grossesund nichb kleines. This can probably be salvaged only for the eye, not for the ear, with "the conscience of science.' But then almost anything would be better than Common's "true knowing-knowledge." Such passages,and there are many, make us wonder whether he had little German and less English. More often than not, he either overlooks a play on words or misunderstandsi! and in both casesmakes nonsenseof Nietzsche. What is the point, to give a ffnal example, of Nietzsche's derision of German writing, once "plain language" is substituted 'German"? for One can sympathize with the translator, but one cannot understandor discws Nietzscheon the basis of the versions hitherto available. The problems encounteredin translating Zarathustra arc tremendous.Where Nietzschedoes not deliberatd bypass idioms in favor of coinages,he makes fun of thenr-now by taking them literally, then again by varying them slightly. Here too he is a dedicated enemy of all convention, intent on.exposingthe stupidity and arbitrarinessof custom. This linguistic iconoclasmgreatly impressedChristian Morgenstern and helped to inspire his celebrated Galgenlieiler, io which similar aims are pursuecl more systematically.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA TO9 later, wen generation Nietzsche, Iike Morgenstern a creates a new animal when he speaks of. PdbeLSchplnilhunde, Windlwnd. meansgreyhound but, more to the point, is often used to designatea person without brains or character. Yet Wind, the wind, is celebrated in this Passage, and so t}le ffrst part of the animal's name had to be varietl to underline the opprobrium. What kind of aoimal should tbe translator qeate? A weathercock is the same sort of personas aWh.ilhunil (he turns with the wind) and permits the coinage of blether-cock. Hardly a maior triumph, but few works of world literature can rival Tsrulw&rc is its abundanceof coinages,some of them clearly prompted by the feeling that the worst coinageis still better than tho best clich€. And this lightheartednessis an essentialaspect of Nietzsche. Many of Nietzsche'splays on words are, of course, extremd suggestive. To give one example among scores' there is his play on Eheschhessen,Ehebrechen,Eh*blegen" Ehe-lilgen, in section z+ of. "Old and New Tablets." Here the old translations did not even try, and it is surely scant compensatronwhen Common gratuitously introduces, elsewhere in the book, "sumpter assesand assesses"or coins 'baddesC' in a passagein which Nietzschesays'hrost evil." In fact, Nietzsche devoted one-third of his Genealogy of 'tado and "evil." Morals to his distinction between The poems in Zarathustru present a weird blend of passion and whimsn but the difrerence between "Oh, every'O human hubbub, thou thing human is strango" anil in thingt" hitherto standard translation is the wonderful still cunsiderable. Or consider the fate of two perfectly '"fhe Song of Melanstraightforward lines at the end of choV': "That I should banned belFrom all the truenessl" And two chapters later Common gives us these lines: How ib to a dance-girl, like, Doth bow and bend and on its haunchesbob, -One doth it too, when one viedth it longlIn fact, Common still iloth it in the next chapter:
*How
lt
THE PORTABLE NIETZ.SCHE I1O blesed one, the home-returning oue, in its thc bobbeth, puqple saddlest" It may be ungracious, though hardly un-Nietzschean,to ridicule such faults. But in the English-speakingworld, Zanthustrc has been read, written about, and discussed for decadeson the basis of sueh travesties,and most criticisms of the style have no relevance whatever to the origiaal. A few thrusts at those who exposedNietzsche to so many tluusts may therefore be defensible-in defenseof Ni*zsche. For that matter, the neq' translation here offered certainly does not do justice to him either. Probably no translation could; and perhaps.thefaults of his predecessors are really a comfort to the translator who can ask to have his work compared with theirs as well as with the original. Or is the spirit of Zarathustta witlr its celebration of laughter contagious?After all, most of the plays on words have no ulterior motive whatever. Must we have a iusUffcation for laughing? Much of what is most untranslatableis an expressionof that Abermuf which Nietzsche associateswith the UDermercch: a lightness of mind, a prankish exuberancethough the term can also designatethat overbearingwhich tle Greeks called hgbrnr. In any case,such plays on wor,ils must be kept in translation: how else is the reader to know which remarks are inspirecl primanly by the possibility of s pun or a daring rhyme? And robbed of its rapidly shifting style, clothed in archaic solemnity, Zarathustrc would become a different work-like Faulkner done into the King's English. Nietzsche'swriting, too, is occasionallydownright bad, but at its best-superb. The often elusive ideas of the book cannot be explained briefln apart from the text The editor's notes, however, which inhoduce each of the four Parts' may facilitate a preliminary orientation, aid the reader in ffnding Passages for which he may be loolcing,and provide a miniature commentary. Only one of Zaratbusha's notions shall be menHoned Iere: the eternal requrence of the same events. In the
111 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA as tho central more and plot this thought becomesmore ivork progresses,yet it is not an afterthought. Nietzsche himseli ii Ecce i?omo, called it "the basic conception of the work'which had struck him in August r88l; and, as a matter of fact, he ffrst formulated it in The Gay Science, the book immediately precediug Zatathustra,As long as Nietzsche was misunderitood as a Darwinist who expected the improvementof the human race in the courseof evolution, tliis conceptionwas considereda stumblingblock, and Nietzschewas gratuitouslychargedwith grossself-contrathe evolutionary diction. But Nietzsche himself reiected 'scholarly oxen." misinterpretation as the fabrication of And *lile he was mistaken in believing that the etemal recurrencemust be acceptedas an ineluctableimplication of impartial science,its personalmeaning for him is expressed very well in EcCe Homo, in the sentencealready cited, where he calls it the "highest fonnula of affirmation which is at all attainable." The eternal recurrenceof his solitudeand despairand of all the agoniesof his tormented bodyt And yet i[ was not his own riurrence that he found hardest to accept, but that of the srnall man too. For the existence of paltriness and petiness seernedmeaningless to his his own own meaninqto after he had succeededin giving sivinq meaning even after inherently meaninglesssufiering. Were not his work and his love bf nis woit and his iot in it inseparablefrom his tortures? And man is capable of standing superhumansuffering if only he feels sure that there is sorne point and purpose to it, while much less pain will seem intolerable if devoid of meaning. Zarathustra is not only a mine of ideas but also a maior work of literature ancl a personaltriumph.
tlz
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Contents FIRST PART Tntathustroi s Pr.ologue Tnrathustr ais Sp eeches r a g 4 5 6 Z 8 9 ro 11 t2. rg t4 rS rG 17 r8 19 zo zL 22
On the Th.ree Metamorphoses On the Teachersof Virtue On the Afterworldly On the Despisersof the Body On Enjoying and Suffering the Passions On the Pale Criminal On Readingand Writing On the Tree on the Mcuntalnside On the Preachersof Death On War and Warriors On the New Idol On tle Flies of the Market Place On Chastity On the Friend On the Thousanil and One Goals On Love of the Neighbor On the Way of the Creator On Little Old and Young Women On the Adder's Bite On Child and Marriage On Free Death On the Gift-Giving Virtue
SECONDPART r z 3 4 5 6
The Child with the l{irror Upon the BlessedIsles On the Pityiog On Priests On the Virtuous On the Rabble
rr5 l2l
r.37 l,40 t42
',46 r48 t49 r52
rs4 r56 158 r6o r63 r66
'.o7 170 172 174 177 t7g
r8r r89 r86 r9r r95 t97 2o,0 2o.2 205 zo8
7 8 9 lo 11 12
r3 14 15
r6 17
r8 r9 20 2L 22
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA Tarantulas the On On the Famous Wise Men The Night Song The Dancing Song The Tomb Song On Self-Overcoming On Those Who Are Sublime On the Land of Education On Irnmaculate Perceptioo On Scholars On Poets On Great Events The Soothsayer On Reilemption On Human Prudence The Stillest Hour
THIRD PART I 2
3 4 5 6 7 8 9 lo 11 t2
r3 t4 15 r6
The Wanderer On the Vision and the Bidtlle On Involuntary Bliss Before Sunrise On Virtue That MakesSmall Upon the lr{ount of Olives On Passing By On Apostates The Return Home On the Three Evils On the Spirit of Gravity On Old and New Tablets The Convalescent On the Great Ionging The Other Dancing Song The Seven Seals (Or: The Yes and Amen song)
FOURTH AND LAST PART r The Honey Sacriffce e Tbe Cry of Distress
ug ztr 2l'4 2t7 219 2A'
225 zz8 231 t33 46 48 24L 245 249 234 257 z?fi
261 zB7 272 276 279 284 287 3go 295 298 303 308 s27 333 336 340 343 349 352
114 g 4 5 6 7 8 9 to 1l 12
r3 r4 15 r6 17
r8 r9 20
THE PORT.{DLENIETZSCHE Conversationwith the Kings The Leech The \,Iagician Retired The Ugliest Man The Voluntary Beggar The Shadow At Noon The Welcome The Last Supper On the Higher Man The Song of Melanclroly On Science Among Daugbtersof the Wilderness The Awakening The Ass Festival The Drunken Song The Sign
3s6 g6o 363 370 375 98o 384 387 390 396 398 408 413 416 422 425 429 436
ThusSpokeZarathustra: FirstPart rprton's torg Prcbgue: Zarathustra speaksof the death of God and proclaims the overman. Faith in God is dead as a matter of cultural fact, and any'meaning" of life in the senseof a supematural purpose is gone. Now it is up to man to give his life meaning by raising himself above the animals and the all-too-human. What else is human nature but a euphemismfor inertia, cultural conditioning,and what we are before we make something of ourselves? Our socalled human nature is precisely what we should do well to overcome;and the man who has overcomeit Zarathustra calls the overman. Shawhas popularizedthe ironic word'superman," which has sincebecomeassociated with Nietzscheand the comics without ever losing its sarcastictinge. In the present translation the older term, "overman,' has been ieinstated: it may help to bring out the closerelation between Nietzsche's conceptions of the ovennan and self-overcoming, and to recaphue somethingof his rhapsodicalplay on the words 'bver" and 'under,' particularly marked throughout the Prologue. Of the many "under" words, the Germanuntergehen posesthe greatest problem of translation: it is the ordinary word for the setting of the sun, and it also means 'to perish"; but Nietzsche almost always uses it with the accent on ounder"-either by way of echoing another 'under" in the same sentenceor, more often, by way of contrast with an "wer" word, usually ovennan. Again and again, a smoothidiomatic translationwould nake nonsense of such passages,and "go undero seemed the least evil. After all, Zarathustra has no cumpuactions about worse Iinguisticsins. "Over" words, some of them coinages, are common in this work, arrd. Ubermewch has to be understood in its context. Mensch means humau being as opposed to animal, and what is called for is not a irper-bi*e but a human being who has created for himsClf that unique
u5
THE PORTABLENIT,TZSCHE 118 position in the cosmos which the Bible consiilereil his divine birthright. Tlie meaning of life is thus found on earth,in fhrs life, not as the inevitableoutcomeof evolution, which might well give us the "last man" instead,but in the few human beingswho raise themselvesabovethe alltoo-humanmass.fn the first edition the Prologuehad the 'On the Overman and the Last Man." The latter title invites comparisonwith Huxleys Brcoe Neu Wotl.d. and' with Heidegger's famous discussion of Das Man in Sein and Zeit. * On the Three Metamarphoses:To becomemore than an all-too-human animal man must become a creator. But this involves a break with previousnorms. Beethoven,for example, createsnew norms with his works. Yet this break is constructiveonly when accomplishednot by one who wants to make things easy for himself, but by one who has previouslysubjectedhimself to the discipline of tradition. First comes the beast of burden, then the deffant '?arting from our cause when it lion, then creation. triumphs"-as Nietzsche did when Wagner triumphed in Bapeuth. z. On the Tewhers of Yirtue: Sunny sarcasm.Our tradi' tional virtues consecratestereotypeclmediocrity ancl make for sound sleep. But where sleep is the goal, life lacks meaning.To bring out the full meaningof the blasphemous ffnal sentence,it may be well to quote fronr StefanZweig's essay,"Friedrich Nietzsche,"which is unsulpassedin its 'No devilishtorture brief sketchof Nietzsche'sway of life: is lacking in this dreadful pandemoniumof sickness:head' aches,diafening, hammeringheadaches,which knock out the reeling Nietzschefor days and prostratehim on sofa ancl beil, stomach camps with bloody vomiting, migraines' fevers, lack of appetite, weariness,hemorrhoids,constiPatioq chills, nighi sweat-a gruesomecircle. In addition, there are his three-quarters blind eyes,' which, at the ffll with least exertion, begin lmmediately to swell and 'a1 hour anil tears and grant the intellectual worker- only a half of vision a day.' But Nietzschedespisesthis hygiene
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA: FIRST PART Ll7 of his boily aad worls at his desk for ten hours, and for this excesshis overheated brain takes revenge with raging headachesand a nervous overcharge;et night, v/hen the boily has long become weary, it does not permit itself to be tumed off suddenln but continues to burrow in visions and ideas until it is forcibly knocked out by opiates. But ever greater quantities are needed (in two months Nietzscheusesup ffty grams of chloral hydrate to purchase this handful of sleep); then the stomachrefuses to pay so high a price and rebels. And oow-vicious circlespasmodic vomiting, new headaches which require new medicines, an inerorable, insatiable, passionateconflict of the infuriated organs,which throw the thorny ball of suffering to each other as ln a mad game. Never a point of rest in ttris up and down, never an even stretch of contentment or a short month full of comfort and self-forgetfulness." For Nietzsche,sleep was clearly not the ead of life. Yet he could well say, "Blessed ar€ the sleepy oues: for they shall soon drop of.g. On the Afteruorldly: A literal transladon of ometaphysiclans"; but Zarathusba takes issue with all who depreeatethis world for the greater glory of another world. The passageabout the *leap" may seem to be aimed at Kierkegaard-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE U8 f.-ily, who would wish that he had been less passionate a painter or poorer in compassion? 6. On the Pab Crimiml: Too absbact to make seDseto Nietzschet frst readers, including even his once close friend Rohde, much of this chapter now eeemslike refec' tions on Dostoevski'sRaskolnikov. But Niefzsche had not yet discovered Dostoevski.And some of the psychological iasigtrts ofiered here go beyond Dostoevski. 7. On Reading and Writing: Compulsory education for all has lowered cultural standarils; thinkers and wdters have come to think and write for the masses.Referencesto novelists and artists who end up in Hollpvood are lacking becauseNiefzschedied in rgoo. The danceis to Nietzschea symbol of ioy anil levity, and the antithesis of gravity. He associatesit with Dionpus; but the Hindus too have a dancing god, Shiva Nataraja-no less a contrast to the three great monothEisticreligions. 8. O*tlw Tree onthe Mowfioirwide; Advice for adolescents. g. On the Prcachercof Death: An encounter with a sick man, &n old man, and a corpse is said to have prompted the Buddha's departure from his father's palace. But relentless work, too, can be sought as a narcotic and a living death. ro. On War and. Warriors: The "saints of knowleilge" are above "hahed and envy"; but those still seekingknowledge must ffght, must wage war, for their thoughts. Vanquished in this contest, thei may yet ffnd cause for triumph in the victory of truth. They must be like warriors: brave and without consideration for the feelings of others. In this 'You should love peaceas e meansto new warscontext, and the short peace more than the long," is surely far from fascism; but the epigram invites quotation out of 'the good war that hallows csntext. The same applies to any causeo; we revere Plato's Repub&c not for its cause (which many of us believe to have been, at least in parf totalitarianism), but becausefew men, if ann have ever waged a more brilliant war for any cause.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRST PART 119 Deing able to cpin better slogansfor positionshe d*esteil than the nen believing in therr'--and then using such pbrasesin an entirely &frerent seuse+eems to have given Metzsche uncommoo satisfaction. He felt that he was hitting right aud left, and he was honi8ed when he found tbat &e rightist parties began brazenly to use him. (For a more detailed discussionof this chapter,seemy Nletzsclp, Chapterrz, sectionVII.) rr. On the Nap lilol: A vehemeotclenunciationof the stato and of war in the Iiteral sease.Straight anti-fascisrr, but not in the name of any rival polifical creed. In Nietzsche'r own phrase: anti-poliUcal. ut. On the Flies of the Market Plrce: Againtt &e massand Its idols. Inspired by the cun&ast of Ba;reuth and Sils Maria, -Wagner and Nietzsche.But today we are noro apt !o thiDt
r20
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHB oiding behind a fagadeof virtue. In this respectNietzsclo'r polemic is profoundly similar to Jesus'.But, ia the wordr of Zarathustra, he remains "faithful to tle earth" and deprecates the shortcomingsof mutual indulgencg while celcbraUnglriendship between those who spur each otlrer on toward man'sperfection.(See my Nietxsche.rz, IV.) t7. On tlre wuu of the Ctedor: Zarathustra does not preach uoiversal aaarchy: ouly the creator must break with ancient norms r8. On Llttb OW anil loung Women: The afiecUonate diminutive in the title (Weiblpin) suggestsat once what is the main difference betweeu this chapter and is vitriolic prototype, Schopenhauer'sessayYon den Weibern: a touch of humor. In Part Three, moreover,in "Tte Other Dancing Song," Nietzsche makes fun of the little old woman's dictum that concludes the present chapter. A photogaph taken less than a year before he wrote Part One also supplies an amusing perspective. It shows Nietzsche and &is friend Paul R6e (author of Der Unprang der moralischen Empfirdungen) pretending to pull a Iittle cart on which Lou Salom6,then their mutual frieod, is entbroned with a tiny whip. We have it on her authority that the picture was posecluniler Nietzsche'sdirection, anil that ho decorated the whip with flowers. But although Nietzsche should be defended againstwitless admirers and detractors, his remarks about women are surely, more ofteo than not, second-handand third-rate. rg. On the Adder's Bite: One might wish that the following 'But lines were better known than the preceding chapter: if you have an enemy, do not requite him evil with good, for that would put bim to shame. Rather prove that he &d you some good. And rather be angry than put to shame. And if you are cursed, I do not Iike it that you want to bless. Rather joio a litde in the cursi'g." Thig should be cornpared with Paul's Epistle to the Romanq tz:r4ff.: Sless t}lem which persecuteyou: bless, and Gursenot . . . Avenge not yourselves,but $ve place unto sratb: for ft is written, Vengeanceis mine: I will repen
THUS SPOI'E ZARATHUSTRA: I|IRST P;.RT I2I ralth the Lord. Therefore, lf thine enerny hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coald of ffre on his head." Nietzsche'swhole chapter is an attack on what he later called ressenttment.(Sa my Nietzsche,rz, V. ) zo, On Chilil ad, Matiage: It may require careful reacling to see that Nietzsche repudiates only certain kinds of piry and love of the neighbor, but in ttris cbapter he malcesa clear distinction indeed between the kioil of marriage he opposesand ttre kinil he would applaud. z:., Otu Free Dedh: A celebration of Socrates' way of dying as opposedto Jezus'.Nietzsche'sown creeping death was to take eleven yea$ to destroy his body after it had destsoyedhis mintl. zz. Onthe Gtft-CioingYlrtue: The egoismof the powerful, whose happinessconsistsin $ving, is contrastedwith that of the weak. The core of the last section is quoted again in tlre Prefaceta Ecce Homo,late in 18881Nietzschewants no believersbut, like Socrates,aims to help o&ers to ffnd the.mselvesand sqpass him.
Zarathustra'sPrologue When Zarathustrawas io* ,"-" old he left his home and the lake of his home and went into the mountains.Here he enjoyedhis spirit and his solitude, and for ten yean did not tire of it But at last a chango cameover }is hearf and one morning he rosewjth the dawn, stqlped beforethe sun, and spoketo it thus: 'You great star, what would your happinessbe had )lou not tbosefor whom you shine? "For ten years you have climbeil to my cavei you would have tired of your light and of the journey had it not been for me and my eagleand my seqpenl
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE we waited for you every morning, took yoru overflow from you, and blessedyou for it. "Behold, I am weary of my wisdom, Iike a bee that has gathered too much honey; I need bands outstretched to receiveit. 'f would give away and distribute, until the wise among men ffnd joy once again in their folly, and the poor in their riches. 'For that I must descendto the depths, as you do in the eveningwhen you go behind the sea and still bring light to the underworld, you overrich star. "Like you, f must go und,er-go down, as is said by man, to whom I want to descend. "So blessme then" you quiet eye that can look even upon an all-too-greathappinesswithout envyt 'Bless the cup that wants to overfow, that the water may flow from it golden and carry everywherethe re flection of your delight. 'Behold, this cup wantsto becomeempty again,and Zarathustrawants to becomeman again." Thus Zarathustrabegan to go under. I22 'But
Zarathustradescendedalonefrom the mountains,en' counteringno one. But when he cameinto the forest,
/4^"
at once there stood before him an old man who had
cottageto look for roots in the woods.And left thus spokethe old man to Zarathustra: 'No sbangerto me is this wanderer: many yearsago he passedthis way. Zarathustrahe was called, but he has changed.At that time you carried your ashesto the mountains; would you now carry your &e-e!q <7i l n e the-vdlen? Do you not fear to be punished.asan baaVarsonist? -Yes, I recognizeZarathustra.His eyesare pure, and
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 128 eround his mouth there hides no disgust. Does he not walk like a dancer? *Zarathustrahas changed,Zarathustrahas becomea ohild, Zarathustra is an awakenedone; what do you You lived in your solinow want amongthe sleepers? tude as in the sea,and the seacarriedyou. Alas,would you now climb ashore?Alas, would you again drag your own body?" Zarathustraanswered:T love man.' oWhy,' askedthe saint,'did I go into the forest and the desert?Was it not becauseI loved man all-toomuch?Now I love God; man I love not. Man is for me too imperfecta thing. Love of man would kill me.' Zarathustraanswered:"Did I speakof love? I bring men a gift.o 'Give them nothingt' saicl the saint 'Rather, take part of their load and help them to bear it-that will be best for them, if only it doesyou good! And if you want to give them something,give no more than alms, and let them beg for thatl' 'No,o answered Zarathustra. 'I give no alms. For .that I am not poor enough." The saint laughed at Zarathustraand spoke thus: oThen see to it that they accept your treasures.They are suspiciousof hermits and do not believe that we come with gifts. Our steps sound too lond through the streets. And what if at night, in their beds, they hear a man walk by long before the sun has rise*they probably ask themselves,Where is the thief golog? 'Do not go to man. Stay in the forestt Go rather even to the animalstWhy do you not want to be as I am-a bear amongbears,a bird amongbirds?' llnd what is the saint doing in the forest?" asked Zarathustra.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE I24 *I The saint answered: make songsand sing them; and when I makesongs,I laugh,cry, and humr thus I praise God. With singing, crying, laughing, and humming, I praisethe god who is my god. But what do you bring us as a giftP When Zarathustra had heard these words he bade 'What could I have to give the saint farewell and said: you? But let me go quickly lest I take somethingfrom yout" And thus they separated,the old one and the nan, Iaughing as two boys laugh. But when Zarathustrawas alone he spoke thus to 'Could his heart: it be possible?This old saint in the forest has not yet heard anything of this, that God *r dead!" 3 When Zarathustra came into the next town, which lies on the edge of the forest he found many people gathered together in the market place; for it had been promisedthat there would be a tightropewalker. And Zarathustraspokethus to the people: 'l teach you the ooerrnan.Man is something that shall be overcoma What have you done to overcome hirn? -All beings so far have created something beyond themselves;and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beastsrather than overcomeman? What is the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassmenLAnd man shall be iust that for the overrnan:a laughingstockor a painful ernbarrassment.You have made your way from worm to man, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now, too, man is more ape tban any ape. 'Whoever is the wisest among you is also a mere
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART 125 conflict and crossbetweenplant and ghost. But do I bid you becomeghostsor plantsP "Behold, f teach you the overman. flhe overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the overman shall be the meaningof the eartht I beseechyou, my brothers, remain faithful to tlw earth, and do not believe thosewho speakto you of otherworldly hopesl Poison-mixersare they, whether they know it or not. Despisersof life are thd decayingand poisonedthemselves,of whom the earth is weary: so let them go. "Once the sin againstGod was the greatestsin; but God died, and these sinners died with him. To sin against the earth is now the most dreadful thing, and to esteemthe entrails of t{re unknowable higher than the meaning of the earth. "Once the soul looked contemptuously upon the body, and then this contempt was the highest: she wanted the body meager, ghastly, and starved. Thus she hoped to escapeit and the earth. Oh, this soul herself was still meager,ghastly, and starved: and cruelty was the Iust of this soul.But you, too, my brothers,tell me: what doesyour body proclaim of your soul?Is not your soul poverty and fflth and wretched contentment? 'Verily, a polluted stream is man. One must be a sea to be able to receivea polluted streamwithout becoming unclean. Behold, I teach you the overman: he is this sea; in him your great contempt can go under. 'What is the greatest elperience you can have? It is the hour of the great contempt The hour in which your happiness,too, arousesyour disgust and even your reasonand your virfue. 'the hour when you san What matters my happiness?It is poverty and fflth and wretched contentment. But my happinessought to justify existenceitself.' 'The hour when you 'What say, matters my reasonP
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE r28 Does it crave knowledge as the lion his food? It is
poverty and fflth and wretched contentment.' 'The hour when you say, What matters my virtue? As yet it has not made me rage. How weary I am of my good and my evill All that is poverty and fflth and wretched contentment' The hour when you san '\lllhat matters my iustice? f do not seethat I am flamesand fuel. But the just are flames and fuel.' 'The hour when you say, What matters my prty? Is not pity the cross on which he is nailed who loves man? But my pity is no cruciflxion.' 'Have you yet spoken thus? Have you yet cried thus? Oh, that I might have heard you cry thusl 'Not your sin but your thrift cries to heaven; your meannesseven in your sin cnes to heaven. 'lVhere is the lighming to lick you with its tongue? Where is the frenzy with which you should be in: oculated? 'Behold, teach you the I ovennan: he is this lightning, he is this frenry." When Zarathustra had spoken thus, one of the people cried: "Now we have heard enough about the tightrope walker; now let us see him tool" Anil all the people laughed at Zarathustra.But the tightrope walker, believing that the word concernedhim, began bis performance. 4 Zlrathustra, however, beheld the people and was amazed.Then be spokethus: 'Man a rope, tied betweenbeast and ovonnan:-a is rcpe over an abyss. A dangerousacross,a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking-bacls,a dangerous shudderingand stopping.
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART 197 "What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end: what can be loved in man is tbat he is an ooerture and a going urder. *I love those who do not know how to live, except by going under, for they are thosewho crossover. *I love the great despisersbecause they are the great reverersand arrows of longing for the other shore. 'I love those who do not ffrst seekbehinil the stars for a reasonto go under and be a sacriftce,but who sacriffcethemselvesfor the earth, that the earth may someday becomethe overman's. "I love him who lives to know, and who wants to know so that the ovennan may live some day. And thus he wants to go under. 'I love him who works and invents to build a house for the ovennan and to prepare earth, animal, and. plant for him: for thus he wants to go under. 't love him who loves his virtue, for virtue is the will to go under and an arrow of longrng. 'f love him who does not hold back one drop of qpirit for himself, but wants to be entirely the spirit of his virbue: thus he strides over the bridge as spiriL 'I love him who makeshis virtue his addiction and his catastrophe:for his virtue's sake he wants to live on and to live no longer. oI love him who does not want to havo too many virtues. One virtue is more virfue than two, becauseit is more of a nooseon which his catastrophemay hang. 'f love him whose soul squandersitself, who wants no thanla and returns none: for he alwap gives away and doesnot want to preservehimseE. 'f love him who is abashedwhen the dice fall to make his fortune, and asla, 'Am I then a crooked gamblerP For he wants to perish. *I love him who castsgoldenwords before his deeds
TTIE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 128 and always does even more than he promises: for he wants to go under. 'I bve-him who justiftes future and redeemspast generations:for he wants to perish of the present. -I love him who chastenshis god becausehe loves his god: for he must perish of the wrath of his god. 'I love him whose soul is deep, even in being wounde{ and who can perish of a small experience: tllus he goesgladly over the bridga oI love him whosesoul is overfull so that he forgets himself, and all things are in him: thus all things qpell his going under. *I love him who has a free spirit and a free heart: thus his head is only the entrafu of his heart, but his heart drives him to go under. 'I love all thosewho are as heavy drops, falling one by one out of the dark cloud that hangsover menr they herald ttre advent of lightning, an4 as heralds, they perish. - 'Behol{ I am a herald of the lighbring antl a heavy drop from the cloud; but this lightning is called ooerman,'
5 When Zarathustrahad spokenthesewords he behelcl the people again and was silenL "There they stancr,he said to his heart; 'there they laugh. They do not understand me; I am not the mouth for these ears. Must one smashtheir ears before they learn to listen with their eyes?Must one clatter like kettledrums and preachersof repentance?Or do they believe only the stammerer? 'They have something of which they are proud. What do they call that whieh makesthem proud? Education they call it; it distinguishesthem from goatherds
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART l2g That is why they do not like to hear the word tontempt' applied to them. Let me then addresstheir pride. Let me speakto them of what is mostcontemptible: but that is the last rnan." And thus spokeZarathusbato the people: 'The time has come for man to set himself a goal. The time has come for man to plant the seed of his highest hope. His soil is still rich enough.But one day this soil will be poor and domesticated,and no tall tree will be able to grow in it. Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer shoot the arrow of his longing beyond man, and the string of his bow will have forgotten how to whirl 'f say unto you: one must still haye chaosin oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaosin yourselves. 'Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer $ve bi*h to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicalle mg is coming, he that is no longer able to despise himself. Behold, I show you the last man. ''What is love? What is creation?What is longingP What is a starfl thus aslcs the last man, and he blinks. 'The earth has becomesmall, and on it hops the last man, who makes everything small. His race is as ineradicable as ttre flea-beetle; the last man lives longesL ''\Me have invented happiness,'say the last men, and they blink. They have left the regionswhere it was hard to live, for one needs warmth. One still loves one's neighbor and nrbs against him, for one needs warmth. 'Becoming sick and harboring suspicion are sinful to them: one proceedscarefully. A fool, whoever still stumblesover stonesor human beingsl A little poison
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 130 now and then: that makesfor agreeabledreams.And much poisonin the end, for an agreeabledeath. 'One still works, for work is a form of entertainment. But one is careful lest the entertainmentbe too harrowing.One no longer becomespoor ol rich: both require too much exertion. Who still wants to rule? lVho obey?Both require too much exertion. 'No shepherdand one herdl Everybodywants the same, everybody is the same: whoever feels different goesvoluntarily into a madhouse. " ?ormerly, all the world was mad,' say the most re6ned, and they blink. 'One is clever and knows everything that has ever happened: so there is no end of derision.One still quarrels,but one is soonreconciled+lse it might spoil the digestion. 'One has one'slittle pleasurefor the day and one's little pleasurefor the night: but one has a regard for health. " "\Me have invented happiness,'say the last men, and they blink." And here ended Zarathustra'sffrst speech,which is 'the Prologue";for at this point he was inalso called terrupted by the clamor and delight of the crowd. oGive us this last man, O Zarathustra,"they shouted. 'Turn us into theselast ment Then we shall makeyou a gift of the overman!"And all the people iubilated and cluckedwith their tongues. But Zarathustrabecamesad and said to his heart: 'They do not understandme: I am not the mouth for theseears.I seemto have lived too long in the mountains; I listenedtoo much to brooksand trees: now I talk to them as to goatherds.My soul is unmoved and biight as the mountainsin the moming. But they think I am cold and I jeer and makedreadfuljests.And now
THUSSPOKEZARATIIUSTRA: FIRSTPART l3l they look at me and laugh: and as &ey laugh they even hate me. There is ice in their laughter.' 6 T!.t something happened that made every mouth , dumb and every eye rigid. For meanwhile the tightrope walker had begun his performance: he had steppedout of a small door and was walking over the rope, stretched between two towers and suspended over the market place and the people. When he had reachedthe exact middle of his coursetire small door openedoncemore and a fellow in motley clothes,Iooking like a jester, jumped out and followed the frst one with quick steps. "Forward, lamefootl" he shoutedin an awe-inspiring v-oice.'Forward, lazybones,smuggler, pale-face,or I shall ticlcleyou with my heel! WhiI are lou doing here between towers?The tower is where you belong. You ought to be locked up; you block the way for one better than yourself." And with every word he came closerand closer;but when he was but one step behind, the dreadful thing happenedwhich made ivery mouth dumb and every eye rigid: he uttered a devilisl cry and jumped over the man who stood in his way. This man, however, seeinghis rival win, lost his head a3d the _rope,tossed away his pole, and plunged into Se deptJr eve-nfaster, a whirlpool of aris aird legs. The market-placebecameas the seawhen a temp-st pierces it: the people rushed apart and over one another, especiallyat the place where the body must hit the ground. Zaralhustra,however,did not move; and it was right next to him that the body fell, badly maimed and d'isffgured, but not yet dead. After a while the shattered man recovered consciousnessand saw Zarathustra
TTIE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 132 kneelingbesidehim. 'lVhat are you doing here?" he askedat last. 'I have long known that the devil would trip me. Now he will drag me to hell. Would you pre. vent him?" 'By *y honot, friend," answered Zarathustra,'all that of which you speakdoes not exist: there is no devil and no hell. Your soul will be dead even before yogr body: fear nothing further." The man looked up suspiciously."If you speakthe tmth," he said, 'I lose nothing when I lose my life. I am not much morethan a beastthat hasbeentaughtto danceby blows and a few meagermorsels." *By no means," said Zarathustra."You have made dangeryour vocation;there is nothing contemptiblein t'hat. Now you perish of your vocation: for that I will bury you with my own hands." When Zarathustrahad said this, the dying rnao &nsweredno more;but he movedhis hand asif he sought Zarathustra'shand in thanla. 7 Meanwhile the evening came, and the market place hid in darkness. Then the people scattered, for even curiosity and terror grow weary. But Zarathustra sat on the ground near the dead man, and he was lost in thoughg forgetting the time. At last night came, and a cold wind blew over the lonely one. 'VerilS Then Zarathustra rose and said to his heart: it is a beautiful catch of fish that Zarathustra has brought in todayl Not a man has he caught but a oorpse. Human existence is uncanny and still without meaning: a iester can beeome man's fatality. I will teach men the meaning of their existence-the overmarg the lightning out of the dark cloud of man. 8ut I am still far from them, and my sense does not speak
FIRSTPART 138 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: to their sensellTo men I am still the mean betweena fool ancl a corpss 'Dark is the nighg dark are Zarathuska's wa1c. Come, cold, stifi companiont I shall carry you where I may bury you with my own hands." 8 When Zarathustra had said this to his heart he hoisted the corpseon his back and started on his way. And he had not taken a hundred steps when a man sneakedup to him and whispered in his ear-and be'Go away from hol4 it was the jester from t}re tower. othere are too many this town, Zarathustra""said he; here who hate you. You are hated by the good and the just, and they call you their enemy and despiser;you are hated by the believersin the true faith, and they call you the danger of the multitude. It was your good forhrne that you were laughed at; and verily, you talked like a jester. It was your good fortune that you stooped to the dead dog; when you lowered yourself so far, you savedyour own life for today. But go away from this towr! or tomorrow I shall leap over you, one living over one dead." And when he had said this the man vanished; but Zarathustra went on through the dark laneg At the gate of the town he met the gravediggers; they shone their torches in his face, recognizedZarathustra, and mocked him. Zarathustra carries ofi the dead dog: bow nice that Zarathustra has become a gravediggerlFor our hands are too clean forthis roast. Would Zarathustrasteal this bite from the devil? Well tlen, we wish you a good meal. If only the devil were nol a better thief than Zarathustra:he will steal them both, he will gobble up both.'Ancl they laughed and put &eir headstogether.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE IU Zarathustra never said a word and went his way. When he had walked two hours, past forests and swamps,he heard so much of the hungry howling of the wolves that he himself felt hungry. So he stopped at a lonely housein which a light was burning. 'Like a robber, hunger overtakesme," said Zaratlustra. 'In forests and swampsmy hunger overtakes me, and in the deep of night. My hunger is certainly capricious:often it comesto me only after a meal and today it did not come all day; where could it have been?" And at that Zarathushaknockedat the door of the house. An old man appeared,carrying the light, and asked: "Who is it that comesto me and to my bad sleep?' 'Give 'A living and a dead man,o said Zarathustra. me somethingto eat and to drink; I forgot about it.during the day. He who feedsthe hungry refresheshis own soul: thus speakswisdom.' The old man went awan but returned shortly and offered Zarathustrabread and wine. "This is an evil 'that is why I live region for the hungry," he said; here. Beast and man come to me, t}re hermit. But bid your companicn,too, eat and drink; he is wearier than you are." oMy companion is dead; I Zarathustra replied: shouldhardly be able to persuadehim." 'I don't care,- said the old man peevishly. \Mho' ever knocksat my door must alsotake what I ofier. Eat and be offt" llhereupon Zarathustra walked another two hours, trusting the path and the light of the stars; for he was used to walking at night and he liked to look in the face of all that slept. But when the dawn cameZara-
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 135 thustra found himself in a deep forest, and he did not see a path anlavhere.So he laid the dead man into a hollow tre*-for he wanted to protect him from the wolves-and he himself lay down on the ground and the moss, his head urrder the tree. And soon he fell asleep,his body weary but his soul unmoved. I For a long time Zarathustraslepb and not only dawn passedover his face but the moming too. At last, however,his eyesopened:amazed,Zarathustralookedinto the woods and the silence; amazed,he looked into himself. Then he rose quickly, like a seafarerwho su& denly seesland, and jubilated, for he saw a new tnrth. And thus he spoketo his heart: 'An insight has come to me: companionsI need, living ones-not dead companionsand corpseswhom I carry with myself wherever I want to. Living companions f need, who follow me becausethey want to follow themselves-wherever I want. 'An insight h4s come me: let Zarathustraspeak to not to the peoplebut to companions. Zarathustrashall not becomethe shepherdand dog of a herd. "To lure many away from the herd, for that I have come. The people and the herd shall be angry with me: Zarathustrawants to be called a robber by the shepherds. 'Shepherds, say; I but they call themselvesthe good and the just. Shepherds, I say;but they call themselves believersin the true faith. 'Behold the good and the justl Whom do they hate rnost?The man who breakstheir tables of values, tbe breaker,the lawbreaker;yet he is the creator. 'Behold the believers of all faithst Whom do they
r36
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
hate most? The man who breaks their tables of values, the breaker, the lau'breaker; yet he is the creator. "Companions, the creator seeks, not colpses, not herds and believers. Fellow creators, the creator seelcs -those who write new values on ne\v tablets. Companions, the creator seeks, and fellow harvesters; for everything about him is ripe for the harvest. But he lacks a hundred sicklesr so he plucks ears and is annoyed. Companions, the creator seeks, and such as know how to whet their sickles. Destroyers they will be called, and despisers of good and evil. But they are the harvesters and those who celebrate. Fellow creators, Zarathustra seeks, fellow harvesters and fellow celebrants: what are herds and shepherds and corpses to him? "And you, my ffrst companion, farewell! I buried you well in your hollow tree; I have hidden you well from the wolves. But I part from you; the time is up. Between dawn and dawn a new truth has come to me. No shepherd shall I be, nor gravedigger. Never again shall I speak to the people: for the last time have I spoken to the dead. "I shall join the creators, the harvesters, the celebrants: I shall show them the rainbow and all the steps to the ovennan. To the hermits I shall sing my song, to the lonesome and the twosome; and whoever still has ears for the unheard-of-his heart shall become heavy with my happiness. *To my o\nn way; over those my goal I will g(Hn who hesitate and lag behind I shall leap. Thus let my going be their going under." 10 This is what Zarathustra had told his heart when the sun stood high at noon; then he looked into the air,
'I'HUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRST PART
137 questioning, for overhead he heard the sharp call of a bird. And beholdl An eagle soared through the sky in wide circles, and on him there hung a serpent, not like prey but like a friend: for she kept herself wound around his neck. "These are my animals," said Zarathustra and was huppy in his heart. "The proudest animal under the sun and the wisest animal under the sun-they have gone out on a search. They want to determine whether Zarathustra is still alive. Verily, do I still live? I found .life more dangerous among men than among animals; on dangerous paths walks Zarathustra. May my animals lead met" When Zarathustra had said this he recalled the words of the saint in the forest, sighed, and spoke thus to his heart: "That I might be wiser! That I might be wise through and through like my serpent! But there I ask the impossible: so I ask my pride that it always go along with my wisdom. And when my wisdom leaves me one day-alas, it loves to fy away-let my pride then fy with my folly." Thus Zarathustra began to go under.
Zarathustra's Speeches ON THE
TIIREE
METAMONPHOSES
Of three metamorphoses of the spirit I tell you: how the spirit becomesa camel;and the camel,a lion; and the lion, ffnally, a child. There is much that is difficult for the spiril the strong reverentspirit that would bear much: but the difficult and the most difficult are what its sbength demands.
THL PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
What is dificult? asks the spirit that would bear much, and kneelsdown like a camel wanting to be well loaded.What is most difficult, O heroes,asksthe spirit that would bear much, that I may take it upon myself and exult in my strength? Is it not humbling Letting onet folly oneselfto wound onet haughtiness? shineto mock one'swisdom? Or is it this: parting from our cause when it triumphs? Climbing high mountains to tempt the tempter? Oi is it this: feeding on the acornsand grass of knowledge and, for the sake of the truth' sufiering hunger in one'ssoul? Or is it this: being sick and sendinghome the comforters and making friends with the deaf, who never hear what you want? Or is it ihis: stepping into fflthy waters when they are the rraters of trutlu and not repulsing cold frogs and hot toads? Or is it this: loving thosewho despiseus and ofiera hand to the ghostthat would frighten_us? ing -All there most difficult things the spirit that would bear much takesupon itself: Iike the camelthat, burdened, speedsinto the desert,thus the spirit speeds into its desert In the loneliestdesert,however,the secondmetamorphosisocturs! here the spirit becomesa lion who would conquerhis freedomand be masterin his own desert.Heri he seeksout his last master:he wants to ffght him and his last god; for ultimate victory he wants to ffght -thewith the great dragon. geat dragon whom the spirit will no Who is longer call lord and god? "Thou shalt" is the name of 'I the-great dragon. But the spirit of the fion says,
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART 139 will." *Thou shalt" lies in his way, sparklinglike gold, an animal covered with scales;and on every scale 'thou shinesa golden shalt" Values,thousandsof yearsold, shineon thesescales; and thus speaksthe mightiestof all dragons:'All value of all things shines on me. All value has long been created,and I am all createdvalue.Verily, there shall 'I be no more will.'" Thus speaksthe dragon. My brothers, why is there a need in the spirit for the lion? Why is not the beast of burden" which renouncesand is reverent,enough? To createnew values-that even the lion cannotdo; but the creation of freedom for oneselffor new creation-that is within the power of the lion. The creation of freedomfor oneselfand a sacred"No" evento duty-for that, my brothers, the lion is needed. To assumethe right to new values-that is the most terrifying assumptionfor a reverentspirit that would bear much. Verily, to him it is preying, and a matter for a beast of prey. He once loved "thou shalt" as most sacred:now he must ffnd illusion and capriceeven in the most sacred, that freedom from his love may become his prey: the lion is neededfor such prey. But say, my brothers,what can the child do that eventhe lion could not do?Why must the preyinglion still becomea child? The child is innocenceand forgettin& a new beginning, e game, a self-propelled wheel,a ffrst movement,a sacred*Yes."For the game of creation,my brothers,a sacred*Yes" is needed: the spirit now wills his own will, and he who had been lost to the world now conquershis own world. Of three metamorphoses of the spirit I have told you: how the spirit becamea camel; and the camel, a lion; and the lion, ffnally, a child.
THE I'ORTABLE NIETZSCHE I4O Thus spoke Zarathustra. And at that time he sojoumed in the town that is called The Motley Cow. ON TIIE
TEACHENS
OF VINTUE
A sagewas praisedto Zarathustrafor knowing how to speakrvell of sleepand of virtue: he was said to be honored and rewarded highly for this, and all the youths were said to be sitting at his feet. To him Zarathustrawent, and he sat at his feet with all the youths. And thus spokethe sage: 'Honor sleep and be bashful before it-that ffnt of all. And avoid all who sleepbadly and stay awake at night. Even the thief is bashfulbeforesleep:he always stealssilently through the night. Shameless, however, he canies is the watchmanof the night; shamelessly his horn. "Sleepingis no mean art: for its sakeone must stay awake all day. Ten times a day you must overcome yourself: that makesyou good and tired and is opium for the soul. Ten times you must reconcile yourself again with yourself; for, overcomingis bittemess,and the unreconciledsleep badly. Ten truths a day you must ffnd; elseyou will still be seekingtruth by night and your soul will remain hungry. Ten times a day you must laugh and be cheerful;elseyou will be disturbed at night by your stomach,this father of gloom. 'Few know it, but one must have all the virtues to sleep well. Shall I bear false witness?Shall I commit adultery?Shall I covet my neighbor'smaid? All that would go ill with good sleep. 'And even if one has all the virtues, there is one further thing one must know: to sendeven the virhres to sleep at the right time. Lest they quarrel with each other, the fair little women, about you, child of mis-
FIRSTPART l4I THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: fortune. Peacewith God and the neighbor: that is what good sleep demands.And Peaceeven with the neighbort devilJse he will haunt you at night. 'rHonor the magistratesand obey them
I
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Iu"g,hgdin his heart, for an insight had come to him. And thus he spoketo his heart: *This sage with his forty thoughts is a fool; but I believe that he knows well how to sleep. Happy is he that even lives near,this saget Such sleep is corr ta$ous-contagious even through a thick wall. There ls magic even in his chair; and it is not in vain that the youths sit before this preacher of virtue. His wisdom is: to wake in order to sleep well. And veriln if life had no senseand I had to choose nonsense, then I too should consider this the most sensible nonseuie. 'Now I understand clearly what was once sought above all when teachersof virtue were sought. Good sleepwas sought,and opiate virtues for it. For all these much praised sageswho were teachersof virtue, wisdom was the sleep without d'reams: they knew no better meaningof life. 'Today too there may still be a few like this preacherof virtue, and not all so honest;but their time is up. And not for long will they stand like this: soon they will lie. 'Blessed are the sleepy ones: for they shall soon drop ofi.' Thus spokeZarathustra. ON TIIE
AFTENWORLDI,Y
At one tlme Zarathustratoo cast his delusionbeyond man, like all the afterworldly. The work of a suftering and torhrred god, the world then seemedto me. A dream &e world then seemedto me, and the ffction of a god: colored smokebefore the eyes of a dissatisffed deity. Good and evil and ioy and pain and I and ;rcu--colored smokethis seemedto me before creative
FIRSTPART l4S THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: from himself; away look to wanted eyes.The creator so he created the world. Drunken joy it is for the suffererto look awayfrom his suftering and to lose himself. Drunken joy and loss of self thJ world once seemed to me. This worl4 etemally imperfect, the image of an eternal contradic* tion, an imperfect imag*a drunken ioy for its imperfect creator: thus the world.onceappearedto me. Thus I too once cast my delusion beyond man" like all the afterworldly. Beyond man indeed? Alas, my brothers, this gocl whom I createil was man-madeand madness,like all godsl Man he wag and only a poor specimenof man and ego: out of my own ashesand ffre this ghost came to me, and, v€rily' it did not come to me from beyond. What happened' my brothers?I overcamemyself, the sufierer; I canied my own ashesto the mountains;I invented a blglter fame for myself. And behold, then this ghostfed from me. Now it would be sufiering for me and agony for the recoveredto believe in such ghosts: now it would be zufiering for me and humiliation" Thus I speak to the afterworldly. It was sufiering and incapacitythat createil all afterworlds-this and that brief madnessof bliss which ir experiencedonly by those who sufier most deeply. Wearinessthat wants to reach the ultimate with onc leap, with one fatal leap, a poor ignorant weariness that does not want to want any more: this created all godsand afterworlds. Believe me, my brothers: it was the bocly that despairedof the body and touchedthe ultimate walls with the ffngers of a deluded spirit. Believe me, my brothers: it was the body that despairedof the earth and heard the belly of being speakto it It wanted to crash through tbese ultimate walls with its head, and not
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
only with its head
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART I45 ancl raptures of their transport?To their bodies and this earth. Zarathustrais gentle with the sick Verily, he is not angry with their kinds of comfortand ingratitude.May men of overcoming,and they become convalescents, createa higher body for themselves! Nor is Zarathustra angry with the convalescent who eyeshis delusiontenderly and, at midnight, sneaksaround the grave of his god: but even so his tears still betray sicknessand a sic"lcbody to me, Many sick people have alwaya been among the poetizersand God-cravers;furiouslythey hate the lover of knowledgeand that youngestamong the virtues, which is called 'honesty." They always look bachrrard toward dark ages; then, indeed, delusion and faith were another matter: the rage of reason was godlikeDess,and doubt was sin. I know these godlike men all too well: they want one to have faith in them, and doubt to be sin. All too well I also know what it is in which they have most faith. f_aith.Verily, Vgrjlf, it is not in afterworldsand redemptirre drops of blood, but in the body, that drops thr they too have most faith; and their body is to them their thing-initself. BuJ a siclcthing it is to them, and gladly would they shed their shiri. Therefore they frsten to the preachersof death and themselvespreach afterworlds. Listen rather, my brothers, to the voice of the healthy body: that is a more honestand purer voice More honestlyand prrely spealsthe healthy body that is perfect -and peqpendicular: and it speals of the neaning of the earth. Thus spokeZarathustra"
t46
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
ON THE
DESPISERS OF THE
BODY
I want to speakto the despisers of the body. I would not have them learn and teach differentln but merely say farewell to their own bodies-ancl thus becpme silent. 'Body am I, and soul"-thus speaksthe child. And n'hy should one not speaklike children? But the awakend and knowingsay: body am I entirely, and nothing else; and soul is only a word for somethingabout the body. The body is a great reason, a plurality with one sense,e war and a peace,a herd and a shepherd.An instnrment of your body is also your little reason,my *spirit"-a little instrument brother, which you call and toy of your great reason. 'I," you san and are proud of the word. But greater is that in which you do not wish to have faith-your *I," but body and its $eat reason: that does not say does'I." What the sensefeels, what the spirit lcnows,never has its end in itself. But senseand spirit would persuade you that they are the end of all things: that is how vain they are. Instrumentsand toys are senseancl spirit: behind them still lies the self. The self also seekswith the eyes of the senses;it also listenswith the earsof the spirit. Alwaysthe self listensand seeks: it compares,overlpwers, conquers, destrop. It controls, and it is in control of the ego too. Behind your thoughts and feelings, my brother, there standsa mighty ruler, an unhrown sag*rrhose name is seU. In your body he dwells; he is your body. There is more reasonin your body than in your best
FIRSTPART T47 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: wisdom. And who knows why your body needs pre cisely your best wisdom? Your setf laughs at your ego and at its bolil leap-s. 'What are these leaps and flights of thought to me?P -A detour to my end. I am the leading it saysto itself. strings of the ego and the prompter of its concepts." llhe self saysto the ego, "Feel pain herel" Then the ego sufiers and thinks how it might sufier no moreand that is why it is madp to think. 'Feel pleasureherel" Then lhe self saysto the ego, the ego is pleasedancl thinla how it might often be pleased agairr+nd that is why it Is mad.eto think. I want to speakto the despisersof the body. It is their respectthat begetstheir contempt.What is it that creatediespect and contemptand worth and will? The creative self created respect and contempt; it created pleasureand pain. The creativebody createdthe spirit as a hand for its will. Even in your folly and contemp! you despisersof the bodn you serveyour self. I say unto you: your self itself wants to die and turns away from life. It is no longer capable of what it would do above all else: to create beyond itse[. That is what it would do abore all else, that is its fervent wish. But now it is too late for it to do this: so your self wants to go under, O deqpisersof the body. Your self wants to go under, and that is why you have become despisersof the bodyl For you are no longer able to create beyond yourselves. And that is why you arc angry with life and the earth. An unconsciousenvy speaksout of the squinteyed glance of your contempt. I shall not go your way, O despisersof the bodyl You are no bridge to the overmanl Thus spokeZarathustra.
148 oN
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE ENJOYTNC
AND
SUTTERTNG
TrrE
PASSIONS
My brother, if you have a virtue and she is your virtue, then you have her in common with nobody. To be sure, you want to call her by name and pet her; you want to pull her ear and have fun with her. And behold, now you have her name in common with the people and have become one of the people and herd with your virtue. You would do better to san "Inexpressible and namelessis that which gives my soul agony and sweetness and is even the hunger of my entrails." May your. virtue be too exalted for the familiarity of names: and if you must speak of her, tl-ren do not be ashamed to stammer of her. Then speak and stammer, *This is my good; this I love; it pleases me wholly; thus alone do I want the good. I do not want it as divine law; I do not want it as human statute and need: it shall not be a signpost for me to overearths and paradises. It is an earthly virtue that I love: there b little prudence in it, and least of all the reasoh of all men. But this bird built its nest with me: therefore I love and caressit; now it dwells with me, siting on its golden eggs." Thus you shall stammer and praise your virtue. Once you sufrered passionsand called them evil. But now you have only your virtues leftr they grew out of your passions. You commended your highest goal to the heart of these passions: then they become your virtues and passionsyou enjoyed. And whether you came from the tribe of the choleric or of the voluptuous or of the fanatic or of the vengeful, in the end all your passionsbecame virtues and all your devils, angels. Once you had wild dogs in your
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 149 cellar, but in the end they turned into birds and lovely singers. Out of your poisonsyou brewed your balsam. You milked your cow, melancholy; now )ou drink the sweetmilk of her udder. And nothing evil grows out of you henceforth,unless it be the evil that grows out of the ffght among your virtues. My brother, if you are fortunate you have only one virtue and no more: then you will pass over the bridge'more easily. It is a distinction to have many virtuis, but a hard lot; and many have gone into the desert and taken their lives becausethey had wearied of being the battle and battlefieldof virtues. My brother, are war and battle evil? But this evil is necessary;necessaryare the envy and mistrust and calumny among your virhaes.Behold how each of your virtues cuvetswhat is highest: each wants your whole spirit that ft might becomelrcrhenld; eachwants your whole strength in wrath, hatred, and love. Each virtue is jealousof the others,and iealousyis a terrible thing. Virtues too can perish of jealousy.Surroundedby the flame of jealousy,one will in the end, like the scolpion, tum one's poisonoussting against oneself. AIas, my brother, have you never yet seen a virtue deny and stab herseU? Man is somethingthat must be overcome;and therefore you shall love your virtues, for you will perish of them. Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON THE
PALE
CNIMINAL
You do not want to kill, O judges and sacrificers, until the animal has nodded?Behold, the pale crininal has nodded: out of his eyesspealathe great contempl 'My ego is somethingthat shall be overcome: my
r50
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
ego is to me the great contempt of man,' that is what his eyessay. That he judged himself, that was his highest me ment; do not let the sublime return to his basenessl There is no redemptionfor one who suffersso of hirnself, except a quick death. Your killing, O iudges, shall be pity and not revenge. And as you kill, be sure that you yourselves t"stify lifel It is not enoughto make your.peacewith the man you kill. Your sadnessshall be love of the oveunan: thus you shall justify your living on. lEnemy" you shall san but not'villain"; 'sicx- you shall say,but not'scoundrel"; 'fool" you shall san but not'sinner." And you, red iudge if you were to tell out loud all that you havealreadydonein thoughgeveryonewould 'Away with cry, this fflth and this poisonousworml" But thought is one thing, the deed is another, and the image of the deed still another: the wheel of causality doesnot roll betweenthem. An image made this pale man pale. He was equal to his deed when he did it; but he could not bear its image after it was done. Now he alwap saw himself as the doer of one deed. MadnessI call this: the exception now became the essencefor him. A chalk streak stops a hen; the stroke that he himself struck stoppedhis poor reason:madnessafter rhe deed I call this. Listen, O iudges: there is yet another madness,and that comesbefore the deed. Alas, you have not yet crept deep enoughinto this soul. thus spealcsthe red judge,'\il&y did this criminal murder?He wanted to rob." But I say unto you: his soul wanted blood, not robbery; he thirsted after the
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 151 bliss of the knife. His poor reason,however, did not '\Mhat comprehendthis madnessand persuadedhim: 'dont matters blood?" it asked; you want at least to commit a robbery with it? To take revengeP And he Iistenedto his poor leason: its speechlay upon him like Iead; so he robbed when he murdered.He did not want to be ashamedof his madness. And now the lead of his guilt lies upon hirn, anil again his poor reasonis so stifi, so paralyzed,so heavy. If only he could shakehis head, then his bunilenwould roll off: but who could shakethis head? What is this man?A heap of diseases, which, through his spirit, reach out into the world: there they want to catch their prey. What is this man?A ball of wild snakes,which rarely enjoy rest from each othei: so they go forth singly and seek prey in the world. Behold this poor bodyl What it sufreredand coveted this poor soul interpreted for itself: it inteqpretedit as murderouslust and greed for the bliss of the knife. Thosewho becomesick today are overcomeby that evil which is evil today: they want to hurt with that which hurts them. But there have been other agesand anotherevil and good.Oncedoubt was evil and the will to self. Then the sick becameheretics or witches: ag hereticsor witches they sufiered and wanted to inflist suffering. But your ears do not want to aceept this: it bamrs your good people, you say to me. But what matter your good peopleto me? Much about your good people nauseates me; and veriln it is not their evil. Indeed,I y5h Jhey had a madnessof which they might perish like this pale criminal. Verily, I wish thelr madnesstvere called truth or
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE I52 loy"Ity or iustice: but they have their virtue in order to live long and in wretchedcontentment. I am a raitng by the torrent: let those who can, grasp mel Your crutch, however,I am not. Thus spoke Zarathusba. ON NEADING
AND
WRITINC
Of all that is written I love only what a man has written with his blood. Write with blood, and you will experience that blood is spirit. It is not easily possible to understand the blood of
another: I hate reading idlers. Whoever knows the reader will henceforthdo nffing for the reader.Another century of readers-and the spirit itself will stink. That everyonemay learn to read, in ttre long run comrpts not only writing but also thinking. Once the spirit was God, then he becameman, and now he even becomesrabble. Whoever writes in blooil and aphorismsdoes not want to be read but to be learned by heart. In the mountainsthe shortestway is from peak to peakr but for that one must have long legs.Aphorismsshouldbe peaks-and those who are addressed,tall and lofty. The air thin and pure, dangernear, and the spirit full of. gaysarcasm:thesego well together.I want to have goblins around me, for I am courageous.Couragethat puts ghoststo fight createsgoblins for itself: couage wants to laugh. I no longer feel as you do: this cloud which I see beneath me, this blacknessand gravity at which I laugh-this is your tlundercloud. You loolc up when you feel the need for elevation. And I look down becauseI am elevated.Who among
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART 159 you can laugh and be elevatedat the sametime?Whoever climbs the highestmountainslaughsat all hagic plays and tragic seriousness. Brave, unconcerned,mocking,violent-thus wisdom wants us: she is a woman and always loves only a warrior. You say to me, 'Life is hard to bear." But why would you have your pride in the morning and your resignationin the evening?Life is hard to bear; but do not act so tenderly! We are all of us fair beastsof burden; male and female asses.What do we have in commonwith the rosebud,which tremblesbecausea drop of dew lies on it? True, we love life, not becausewe are usedto living but becausewe are used to loving. There is always somemadnessin love. But there is also alwayssome reasonin madness. And to me too, as I am well disposedtoward life, butterftes and soapbubblesand whateveramongmen is of their kind seemto know most about happiness. Seeingtheselight, foolish, delicate,mobile little souls futter-that seducesZarathustrato tearsand songs. I would believe only in a god who could dance.And when I saw my devil I found him serious,thorough, profound, and solemn: it was the spirit of gravitythrough him all things fall. _ Not-by wrath doesone kill but by laughter.Come, Iet us kill the spirit of gravityl I have learnedto walk: ever since,I let myself run. I have learnedto fly: ever since,I do not want to be pushed before moving along. Now I am light, now I fy, now I seemyself beneath myself, now a god dancesthrough me. Thus spoke Zarathustra.
r54
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
ON THE
TNEE
ON THE
MOUNTAINSIDE
Zarathustrat eye had noted that a youth avoided him. And one evening as he walked alone through the mountainssurroundingthe town which is called The Motley Cow-behold, on his walk he found this youth as he sat leaning againsta tree, looking wearily into the valley. Zarathustragripped the tree under which tho youth was sitting and spokethus: "ff f wanted to shake this tree with my hands f should not be able to do it. But the wind, which we do not see,tortures and bendsit in whatever direction it pleases.It is by invisible hands that we are bent and tortured worst " 'I Then the youth got up in ctnsternationand said: hear Zarathustra,and just now I was thinking of him." , Zarathusbareplied: "Why should that frighten you? lBut it is with man as it is with the tree. The more he faspiresto the height and light, the more shongly do lhis roots strive earthward, downward, into the darlq deepinto evil." f theoYes, 'How it possible is into evill'cried the youth. that you discoveredmy soul?' *Some soulsone will Zarathustrasmiled and saicl: never discover,unlessone inventsthem ffrst" 'Yes, into evill" the youth cried once mor€. lfou have spoken the truth, Zarathustra.I no longer trust myself since I aspire to the height, and nobody trusts me any more; how did this happen?I changetoo fast: my today refutesmy yesterday.I often skip stepswhen f chmb: no step forgivesme that. When I am at the top I alwaysffnd myselfalone.Nobody speaksto me; the frost of lonelinessmakes me shiver. What do I
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 155 want up hlgh? My conternpt and my longing grorv at the slme time; the higher I climb, the more I despise the climber.What doeshe wa4t up high? How ashamed I am of my climbing and stumblingl How I mock at qy violenl p-aryingtHow I hate the f,jerl How weary I am up highl" Here the youth stoppecl.And Zarathustra crontenr, plated the tree besidewhich they stoodand spokethus: ]I!is qee standslonely here in the mountains;it grenr high above man and beast. And if it wanted to qpeak it would have nobody who could randerstandit, so high has it grown. Now it waits and waits-for what is it waiting? It dwells too near the seat of the clouds: surely, it waits for the ffrst lightning." When Zarathustrahad said this the youth cried rvith violent gestures: 'Yeq Zarathustra, you are speaking $e truth. I longed to go under when I aspired to the height, and you are the lightning for which I waited. Behold, yhat am I, now that you have appeared amongus?It is the enoy of you that has destroye-dme.' llrus spokethe youth, and he wept bitterly. Bat Zarathustrl p9t his arm around hirn ind led him away. furd when they had walked together for a u'ilile, Zarathustra began to speak thus: "It tears my heart Better &an your words tell il your eyes tell me of {l ygur dangers.You are not yet free, you strll search for freedom. You are worn from your searchand overawake.You aspire to the free heights,your soul thirsts for the stars. But your wicked initincti, too, thirst for freedom.Your wild dogswant freedom;they bark with joy in their cellar when your spirit plans io open all prisons.To me_you are still a prisoner who is plotting his freedom: alas, in such prisonersthe soul becomei clever, but also deceitful and bad. And even the liber-
NIETZSCHE THE PORTABLT, 156 ated spirit must still purify himself. Much prison and mustinessstill remain in him: his eyes must still beoome Pure. 'Indeed, I know your danger.But by my love andhqre I beseechyou: do not throw away your love and hope. 'You still feel noble, and the others too feel your nobility, though they bear you a grudge and send you j evil glances.Know that the noble man standsin everylbodys way. The noble man standsin the way of the I good too: and even if they call him one of the goodo they thus want to do away with hirn- Thq_4oble-4ran 'J wants to createsometlinq new and a new virtue. The e;a want-iba ol{andtfrat the old be preserved.Eiit this is not the dangerof the noble man, that he might become one of the good, but a churl a mocker, 4 destroyer. 'A,las,I knew noble men who lost their highesthope. Then they slanderedall high hopes. Then they lived impudently in brief pleasuresand barely casttheir goals bevond the dav. Spirit too is lusL so they said. Then their spirit th6 wings of their@ crawls about and soilswhat it gnaws.Oncethey thought of becoming heroes: now they are voluptuaries. The hero is for them an o$enseand a fright 'But by my love and hope I beseechyou: do not tb,rowaway the hero in your soull Hold holy yoru highest hopel' Thus spoke Zarathusua. ON TIIE
PREACIIENS
OF DEATIT
There are preachersof death; and the earth is full of thoseto whom ono must preach renunciationof hfe. The earth is full of the superfuous; life is spoiled by the all-too-many.May they be lured from this life with
THUS SPOKEZARATLUSTRA:flRST PART lsll 'etemal lifd't Yu[ow the preachersof death wear, tle or black. But I want to show thesr to yor in still other colors. are the terrible oneswho carqyaround within of prey and have no choice but their lust is still selflust or self-laceratioil human beings laceration- They have not yet, these terrible ones: let them -...--:.--of lifre ancl p{Ns away themselvesl Thereare thosewith consumptionof tlle soul: hardly are they born when they begin to die and to long for doctrines of wearinessand renunciation. They would like to be dead, and we shouldwelcometheir wish. Let us beware of waking tbe dead and disturbing these living coftnsl They encounter a sick man or an old man or a coqpse,and immediately they say, 'Life is refuted." But only they themselvesare refuted, and their eyesn which seeonly this one face of existence.Shroudedin thick melancholyand eagerfor the little accidentsthat bring deatb, thus they wait with clenched teeth. Or they reachfor sweetswbile mocking their own childisb ness;they clutch the straw of their life and mock that they still clutch a shaw. Their wisdom say* A fool who stays alive-but such fools ere we. And this is surely the most foolish thing about life.' 'Life is only sufiering;" othen say, and do not lie: see to if then, that you ceaselSeeto i9 then, that the Me which is oaly sufiering ceasesl And let this be the doctrine of your virtue: 'Tbou shalt kill thyseUlThou shalt stealawayt" 'Lust is sin" says one group that preachesdeath; 'let us step aside and beget no children.o 'Giving bidfi is troublesome,"says another gloup; 'why go on $ving birth? One bean only unfqtunatesl'
'< tV<-\431rt'f , d tol' Lu",yd<, 'J THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE I58 And they too are preachersof death. 'Take from "Pity is needed,' says the third group. me what I havel Takefrom me what I aml Life will bind me that much lessl" were full of prty through and they To would ke"Jife insufierable for theirBut they be evil, that care that with want to get out still more presents they bind their wyt '-And you, too, for whom life is furious work and of liler life? Are you not unrest-are you not very weary ot very ripe for the preaching of death? All of you to whom furious work is dear, and whatever is fast, new, and strange-you ffnd it hard to bear yourselves;youl industry i- escapeand the will to forget yourselves.If you believed more in life you would fling yourselves less to the moment But you do not have contents enough in yourselvesfor waiting-and not even for idleness. Everywherettre voice of thosewho preach death is heard; and the earth is full of thoseto whom onemust 'etemal life"-that is the same to preach death. Or me, if only they passaway quickly. Thus spoke Zarathustra. on wen AND wAnRrOnS We ilo not want to be sparedby our best enemies, nor by thosewhom we love thoroughly. So let me tell -1'ou the truthl My brothersin war, I love you thoroughly; f am and I wai of your kind. And I am alsoyour best enemy.So let rre tell you the truthl I know oi the hatred and envy of your hearts. You
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART I59 are not great enoughnot to know hatred and envy. Be great enough,then, not to be ashamedof &em. ' And if y:ou cannot be saints of knowledge, at least be its warriors. They are the companionsand forerunners of such sainthood. I seemany soldiers:woulil that I saw many warriorsl oUniformo one calls what they wear: would that wbat it concealswere not unilorml You should have eyesthat always seekan enemygur eneny. And someof you hate at ftst sight. Yorrr 6tr"ty you shall seeL,your wil you shall iage-for your th6ughts.And if your thought be vanquished,then your honestyshould still ffnd causefor triumph in thaL You should love peace as a meiursto new wars-and. the short peace more than the long. To you I do not rec.ommendwork but struggle.To you I do not recornmend peace but victory. Let your work be a struggle. Let your peace be a victoryl One can be silent and sit still only when one has bow and arrow: else one chatters and quarrels. f,et your peace be a vietoryl You say it is the good causethat hallows even war? I say unto you: it is the good war that hallows any cause.War and couragehave accomplishedmore great things than love of the neighbor. Not your pity but your couage has so far saved the unfortunate. nVhat is good?'you ask.To be brave is good. Let 'To be good the little girls say, is what is at the sane time pretty and touching." They call you heartless:but you have a hearg and I love you for being ashamedto showit. You are asharned of your flood, while others are ashamedof their ebb. You are ugly? Well then, my brothers, wrap tho sublime around you, the cloak of the ugly. And when lour soul becomesgreat, then it becomesprankish; and in your sublimity there is sarcasm.I know you.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
A,
I
\ t
fn sarcasmthe pranlater and the weakling meet. But they misunderstandeach other. I lcnow you. You may have only enemieswhom you can hate, not enemiesyou despise.You must be proud of your enemy: then the successesof your enemy are your successsr too. Recalcitrance-that is the nobility of slaves. Your nobtlity should be obedience.Your very eommanding should be an obeying. To a good warrior othou shalt" sounds more agreeablethan "I will." And everything you like you should ffrst let yourself be eommandedto do. Your love of life shall be love of your highest hope; and your highest hope shall be the highest thought of life. Your highest thoughg however,you should receive as a commandfrom me-and it is: man is something that shall be overcome. thus live your Iife of obedience and war. What matters long lifeP What warrior wants to be spared? I do not spare youi I love you thoroughln my brothersin warl Thus spoke Zarathustra. ulh. ON THE.NEW
IDOL
Somewherethere are still peoplesand herds,but not where we live, my brothers: here there are states. State?Wbat is that? Well then, open your ears to me, for now I shall speakto you about the death of peoples. State is the name of the coldestof all sold monsters. , C,oldly itof,tells lies too; and this lie crawls out of its the state, am the people." That is a liel It imouth: lwas creatorswho createdpeoplesand hung a laith and a love over them: thus they servedlife.
FIRSTPART 161 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: It is annihilators who set traps for the many and ostate': they hang a sword and a hundred call them appetites over them. ['-iVhete there is sUll a people,it doesnot understand I tle state and hates it as the evil eie and the sin I(^against customsand rights. This sign I $ve you: every people speaksits tongue of good and evil, which the neighbor does not understand"It has inventedits own languageof customsand rights. But the state tells lies in all the tongues of good and evil; and whatever it saysit lies-and whatever it has it has stolen. Everything about it is false; it bites with stolen teetlq and bites easily. Even its entrails are false. Confusion of tongues of good and evil: this sign I give you as the sign of the state.Verily, this sign signiffesthe will to deatlu Verily, it beckons to the preachersof death. All-too-many are born: for the superfluousthe state was invented. Behold, how it lures them, the all-too-many-and bow it devours them, chews them, and ruminatest 'On earth there is nothing greater than I: the ordering ffnger of God am l"-thus roars the monster.And it is not only the long-earedand shortsightedwho sink to their knees. Alas, to you too, you great souls, it whispers its dark lies. Alas, it detects the rich hearts which like to squanderthemselves.Indeed, it detects you too, you vanquishersof the old god. You have grown weary with fghting, and now your weafness still senes the new idol. With heroes and honorable men it would zurround itself, the new idolt It likes to bask in the sunshine of good consciencres-thecold monsterl It will $ve you everything il you will adore it, this
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
new idol: thus it buys the splendor of your virtues and the look of your proud eyes.It would use you as bait for the all-too-many. Indeed, a hellish artifice was invented there, a horse of death, clattering in the ffnery of divine honors. Indeed, a dying for many was invented there, which praisesitself as Me: veriln a great servicreto all preaclrers of deathl State I call it where all drink poison, the good and the wicked; statg where all lose themselves,the gootl and the wicked; state, where the slorv suicide of all is 'Iife." called _thesuperfluouslThey stealthe rvorks of the *remselves; inventors
vrU 'education"
it+ +t:
.J.tt
misfortune for them.
Behold the superfluous!They are ahvayssick; they vomit their gall and call it a newspaper.They devour each other and cannot even digest themselves. Behold the superfluouslThey gather richesand be' come poorer with them. They want power and ftrst the lever of power, uruch money-the impotent Paupers! Watch thenr clamber, these swift monkepl They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness-as if happinesssat on the throne. Often mud sits on the throne-and often also the throne on mud. Mad they all appearto me, clambering monkeysand overardent.Foul smellstheir idol, the cold monster:foul they smell to me altogether, these idolators. IVIy brothers, do you want to suffocatein the fumes of their snouts and appetites?Rather break the windows and leap to freedom.
FIRSTPART 16{I THI]S SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Escapefrom the bad smelllEscapefrom the idolatqy of the superfluous! EscapJ from the bail smelll Escapefrom the steam of thesehuman sacriffcesl The earth is free even now for great souls. There are still many empty seatsfor the lonesomeand the twosome,fanned by the fragranceof silent seas. A free life is still free for great souls. Verily, rvho' that much lessrpraised little is possessed ever possesses be a little povertyl Only where the state ends,there beginsthe human being who is not superfluous:there begins the song of necessity,the unique and inimitable tune. Where the state eul.vlook there, my brotlers! Do you not seeit, the rainborvand the bridgesof the overman? Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON THE TLIES
OF THE MANKET
PLACE
Flee, my friend, into your solitudetI seeyou dazed by the noise of the great men and stung all ovgr by the stings of the little men. Woods and crags know how to keep a digniffedsilencewith you. Be like the hee that you love with its wide branches: silently listening,it hangsover the sea. Where solitudeceasesthe marketplace beginsiand where the market place beginsthe noiseof the great actorsand the buzzingof the poisonousfliesbeginstoo. In the world even the best things amountto nothing without someoneto make a show of them: great men the peoplecall theseshowmen. Little do the peoplecomprehendthe great-that is, the creating. But they have a mind for all showmen and actorsof great things.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
1 Around the inventors of new values the world reI volves: invisibly it revolves. But around the actors I revglye the people and fame: that is "the way of the i world." The actor has spirit but little conscienceof the spirit. Always he has faith in that with which he inspires the most faith-faith in himself. Tomorrow he has a new faith, and the day after tomorrowa newer one. He has quick senses,like the people,and capriitrir".,fpiousmoods. To overt]rrow-that means to himr to -tl lprove. To drive to frenzy-that meansto him: to perJ|- furade.And blood is to him the best of all reasons.A that slips into delicate ears alone he calls a lie afi{tuth 'rqtt'&nd nothing.Verily, he believesonly in godswho make H big noisein the worldl Full of solemniestersis the market place-and the peoplepride themselveson their great men, their masters of the hour. But the hour pressesthem; so they pressyou. And from you too they want a Yes or No. Alas, do you want to placeyour chair betweenpro and con? Do not be jealousof these unconditional,pressing men, you lover of truthl @on the arm of the unconditional.On account of these k
sudden-menr, gotfifto your security: it is only in the market place that one is assaultedwith Yes?or No? Slow is the experience of all deep wells: long must they wait before they know u:hat fell into their depth. Far from the market place and from fame happens all that is great: far from the market place and from fame the inventors of new values have always dwelt. FIee, my friend, into your solitude: I see you stung all over by poisonous fies. Flee where the air is raw and strong. Flee into your solitudet You have lived too close to
THUS $OKE ZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 105 the small and the miserable. Flee their invisible re vengel Against you they are nothing but revenge.No longer raise up your ann againstthem. Number' less are then and it is not your lot to shoo flies. Numberlessare t-hesesmall and miserable creatures; and many a proud building has-perished-ofraindrops and weeds. iou are no stone, but you have already become hollow from many drops. You will yet burst from many drops. I seeyou wearied by poisonousflies, bloody in a hundred places;and your pride refuses even to be angry. Blood is what they want from you i1 all innocence.Their bloodlesssouls crave blood, and so they sting in all innocence.But you, you deep one, sufier too deeply even from small wounds; and even before you have healed, the same poisonousworm crawls over your hand. You are too proud to kill these greedycreatures.But bewarelest it becomeyour downfall that you sufier all their poisonousiniustice. They hum around you with their praise too: obtrusivenessis their praise. They want the proximity of your skin and your blood. They fatter you as a god or devil; they whine before you as before a god or devil. What does it matter? They are flatterers and whiners and nothing more. Often they afiect charm. But that has always been the clevernessof cowards.Indeed, cowardsare clevert They think a lot about you with their petty soulsyou always seemproblematicto them. Euerythitg thut i I problematic. one thinks about a lot bgcqles -virtues. ThCy-punGE-ytiufor all your They for$ve you entirely-your mistakes. Becauseyou are gentle and just in disposition you say, 'They are guiltlessin their small existence."But 'Guilt is every great existence.their petty soulsthink, Even when you are gentle to them they still feel
r68
THE PORTABLNNIETZSCHE
despisedby you: and they return your benefactionrvith hidden malefactions.Your silent pride always runs counterto their taste;they are jubilant if for onceyou are modestenoughto be vain. That which we recognize in a personwe alsoinfame in him: therefore,beware of the smallcreatures.Beforeyou they feel small, and their baseness glimmersand glows in invisiblerevenge. Have you not noticed how often they became mute when you steppedamong them, and how their strengthwent from them like smokefrom a dying ffre? Indeed, my friend, you are the bad conscienceof your neighbors:for they are unworthy of you. They hate you, therefore,and would [ke to suckyour blood. Your neighborswill always be poisonousftes; that which is great in you, just that must make them more poisonous and more like fies. Flee, my friend, into your solitude ancl where the air is raw and strongt It is not your lot to shooflies. Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON CIIASTITY
,
I love the forest.It is bad to live in cities: there too many.arein heat. Is it not better to fall into the hands of a murderqrthan into the dreamsof a womanin heat? (-And behold thesemen: their eyessay it-they know lgf nothing better on earth than to lie with a woman. Mud is at the boftom of their souls;and woe if their mud alsohas spiritl Would that you were as perfect as animalsat leastt But animalshave innocence. Do I counselyou to slay your senses? I counselthe innocenceof the senses. Do I counselyou to chastity?Chastity is a virtue in some, but almost a vrce in many. They abstain,but
FIRSTPART lO7 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: the bitch, sensuality, leers enviously out of everything they do. Even to the heights of their virtue and to the cold regionsof the spirit this beastfollows them , with her lack of peace. And how nicely the bitch, I sensuality, |nows how to beg for a piece of spirit I whendenieda pieceof meat. that breala Do you love tragedies and everything the heart? But I mistrust your bitch. Your eyes are too cruel and you search lusdully for sufierers.Is it not merely your lust that has disguiseditself and now calls itself pityP And this parable too I offer you: not a few who wanted to drive out their devil have themselvesentereil into swine. Thosefor whom chastity is difrcult shoulil be coun-fi seled againstit, lest it becometheir road to hell--{h qrgll heat vrof their souls. r! mud and rr94t 4tlu tu Do I speak of di*y things? That is not lhe worst that could happen. It is not when truth is dirty, but !. when it is shalloq that the lover of knowledge is re- | luctant to step into its waters. Veriln someare chaste through and through: they are gentler of heart, fonder of laughter, and laugh more than you. They laugtr at chastity too and ask, 'What is chastity?Is chastity not folly? Yet this folly came to us, not we to it. We offered this guest hostel and heart: now it dwells with us-rnay it stay as long as it willl" Thus spoke Zarathustra.
l{
ON IHE
FRIEND
olhere is always one too many around ms'-1hug 'Always thinks the hermit one times one
THE PORTABLE NTETZSCHE |168 \could one stand that if there were no friend? For the lhermit the friend is always the third person: the third [s the cork that prevents the conversationof the two .[rom sinking into the depths.Alas, there are too many depths for all hermits; thereforethey long so for a friend and his height. Our faith in othersbetraysin what respectwe would like to have faith in ourselves.Our longing for a friend is our betrayer.And often love is only a device to overcomeenvy. And often one attacksand makesan enemy \.in order to concealt[at, one is open to attack."At least z b my enemyl"-thdff$ab, true reverence,which ' doesnot dare askfor frienilship. If one wants to have a friend one must also want to wage war for him: and to wage w,u, one must be capableof being an enemy. In a friend one should still honor the enemy. Can you go close to your friend without going over to him? In a friend one should have one's best enemy. You should be closest to him with your beart when you resisthim. You do not want to put on anything for your friend? Should it be an honor for your friend that you give yourself to him as you are? But he sendsyou to tlle devil for that. He who makesno secret of himself, euages! so much reasonhave you for fearing nake& ness. Indeed, if you were gods, then you might be ashamedof your clothes.You cannot groom yourseU too beautifully for your friend: for you shall be to him an arrowand a longingfor the overrnan. Have you evqr seenyour friend asleeg-and found out how he looks?What is the face of your friend anyway? It is your own face in a rough and imperfect mirror.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 169 Have you ever seen your friend asleep?Were you not shocked that you friend looks like that? O -y friend, man is somethingthat must be overcome. A friend should be a masterat guessingand keeping still: you must not want to see everything. Your dream should betray to you wbat your friend does while awake. Your compassionshould be a guess-to lrrow ffrst whether your friend wants compassion.Perhapswhat he loves in you is the unbroken eye and the glanceof eternity. Compassionfor the friend should conceal itself under a hard shell, and you should break a tooth on it. That way it will have delicacy and sn'eetness. Are you pure air and solitude and bread and medicine for your friend? Some cannot loosen their own chains and can neverthelessredeem their friends. Are you a slave?Then you cannot be a friend. Are you a tyrant? Then you cannot have friends. All-toolong have a slave and a tyrant been concealed in woman. Therefore woman is not yet capableof friend- ! I ship: she lcnowsonly love. Woman'slove involvesinjustice and blindnessagainst everything that she does not love. And even in the knowing love of a woman there are still assault and lightning and night alongsidelight. Womanis not yet capableof friendship:women are still cats and birds. Or at best, cows. Woman is not yet capable of friendship. But tell me, you men, who amongyou is capableof friendship? Alas, behold your poverty, you men, and the meannessof your soulsl As much as you give the friend, I will give even my enemy,and I shall.not be any the poorer for it. There is comradeship:let there be friendshipl Thus spokeZarathustra.
I7O
TIIE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
ON THE
TIIOUSAND
AND
ONE GOALS
Zarathustrasaw many landsand manypeoples:thus he discoveredthe good and evil of many peoples.And Zarathustrafouud no greaterpower on earth than good and evil. No people could Iive without ffrst esteeming;but if they want to preservethemselves"then they must not esteesras the neighboresteems.Much that was good to one people was scorn and infamy to another: thus I found it. Much I found called evil here, and deeked out with purple honors there. Never did one neighbor understandthe other: ever rilas his soul amazedat the neighbort delusion and wickedness. A tablet of the good hangs over every people. Be. hold, it is the tablet of their overcomings;behold, it is the voice of their will to power. Praiseworthyis whatever seemsdifficult to a people; whatever seems indispensableand dificult is called good; and whatever ilberates even out of the deepest need, the rarest, the most diftcult-that they call holn Whatever makes them rule and triumph and shine, to the awe and envy of their neighborg that is to thern the higtr, the ffrst the measure,the meaning of all things. Veriln my brothe, onoe you have recognized the need and land and sky and neighbor of a people, you may also guessthe law of their overcomings,and why they climb to their hope on this ladder. 'You shall always be the Srst and excel all others: your iealous soul shall love no one, unless it be the friend'-that made the soul of the Greek quiver: &us be walked the path of his greatness.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART 171 'To speak the truth and to handle bow and arrow well"-that seemed both dear and difficult to the people who gave me my name-the name which is both dear and dificult to me. 'To honor father and mother and to follow their will to the root of one's soul'- this was the tablet of l' overcoming that another-qeople hung- up over them; selvesand becamepowerfuland eternalthereby. 'To practice loyalty and, for the sake of loyalty, to risk honor and blood even for evil and dangerous U things"-with this teachinganotherpeople conquered 3 themselves;and through this self-conquestthey became, ,3-E L-$j pregnant and heavy with great hopes. %rity, men gave themsJlvesall iheir good and evil. 3 Verily, they did not take il they did not ffnd it, nor did it come to them as a voice from heaven.Onlv o Iman placed values in things to pr€serve himself-tj j alonecreateda meaningfor things,a human meaning..o * Therefore he calls him-self which means, ,ft;: .-n esteemer. "n"ri' To esteemis to create: hear this, you creatorslE - j S *. qlabtejreelClg. mable treasure. Throuph alone Throughesteeminrr esteeming aloneis is fhere therewahrer value:-]Y qo and without esteeming,the nut of existencewouldi 3 + be hollow. Hear this, ]ou creatorst _ 3 Changeof values-that is a changeof creators.lvhoj+ i ever must be a creator always annihilates. Jj, f First, peopleswere creators;and only in later times,"" individuals. Veriln the individual himself is still the most recent creation. _Oncepeopleshung a tablet of the good over themselves.Love which would rule and love which would obey have togethercreatedsuchtablets. The delight in the herd is more ancient than the
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE t72 delight in dre ego; and as long as the good conscience is identifted with the herd, only the bad conscience says: I. Verily, the clever ego, the lovelessego that desires its own profft in the profft of the many-that is not the origin of the herd, but its going under. Good and evil have always been created by lovers and creators.The ffre of love glows in the namesof all the virhres, and the ffre of wrath. Zarathustrasaw many lands and many peoples.No greater power did Zarathustraffnd on earth than the 'good" and'evif'are their names. works of the lovers: Verily, a monster is the power of this praising and censuring.Tell me, who will conquer ib O brothers? Tell me, who wfll throw a yoke over the thousand necks of this beast? A thousand goals have there been so fp5{or trhere have been a thousandpeoples.Only thetyokj for the tlousand necksis stilt lacking: the one goffibcking. Humanity still has no goal. But tell me, my brothers, if humanity still laclcsa goal-is humanity itself not still lacking too? Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON LOVE
OF THE
NEIGIIBOR
You crowd around your neighbor and have ffne words for iL But I say unto you: your love of the neighbor is your bad love of yourselves.You flee to your neighborfrom yourselvesand would like to make a virtue-out of tbati but I see through your'selflessness." The you is older than the l; the gou has been pronouncedholy, but not yet the f: so man crowds toward his neighbor.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 178 Do I recommend love of the neighbor to you? SoonerI should even recommendflight from the neighbor and love of the farthest. Higher than love of the neighbor is love of the farthest and the future; higher yet'than tle love of human beings I esteemthe love bf things and ghosts.This ghost that runs,aftg yort my brother, is more beautiful than youi why do you not give him your flesh and your bones?But you are afraid and run to your neighbor. You cannot endure yourselvesand do not love lourselvesenough: now you want to seduceyour neighbor to love, and then gild younelveswith his error. Would that you could not endure all sorts of neighbors and their neighbors; then you would have to create your friend and his overflswing heart out of yourseh,es. You invite a witness when you want to speak well of yourselves;and when you have seducedhim to think well of you, then you think well of yourselves. Not only are they liars who speak when they know better, but even more those who speak when they lnow nothing. And thus you speak of yourselvesto others and deceive the neighbor with yourselves. Thus speaksthe fool: "Associationwith other poople corrupts one's character<specially if one has none." One man goesto his neighborbeeausehe seekshin self; another becausehe would lose himself. Your b4ll ., love of yourselvesturns your solitude into a prison. Id fl ir tbose farther away who must lray for your love of /f pur neighbor; and even if 6ve of you arc togetber,// there is always a sixh who must die. Jl I do not love your festivals either: I found too mifrr actors there, and tbe spectato$, too, often behaved like actors. I teach )'ou not the neighbor, but the friend. Tbe friend should be the festival of tbe eadL to you and
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHB I74 8n anticipaHo_n of the overman.I teach you the friend and his overfowing heart But one musi learn to be a Tonge if orre wants to bo loved by hearts that overflon'. I teach you the friend in whom the world stands co-mpleted,a_bowl of goodness-the creating friend who always has a completed world to $ve away. And as the world rolled apart for him, it rolls together qgain in circles for him, as the becomingof tha good $rough evil, Csthe becomingof puqposeout of iccidenL Let the future and the farthest be for you the cause of your today: in your friend you shall love the overman as your cause. My brothers, love of the neighbor I do not rrecommend to you: I recommendto you love of the farthest Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON TIIE
WAY
OF THE
CNEATOR
Is it your wish, my brother, to go into solitude?Is it your wish to seekthe way to youneU? Then linger a moment, and listen to me. 'He who seekg easily gets lost All loneliness is guilt"-thus speaksthe herd. And you have long belonged to the herd. The voice of the herd will still be audible in you. And when you will say, oI no longer have a oommon consciencewith you," it will be a Iament and. an agony. Behold, this agony itself was born of the commonconscience,and the last glimmer of that consciencestill glows on your afiistisn. But do you want to go the way of your afliction, which is the way to yourself?'Thenshow me your right and your strength to do so. Are you a new strength and a new right? A ffrst movementPA self-propelled
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:DIRSTPART 175 wheelP Can you compel thr roy stars to revolve around you? AIag there is so much lusting for the heightsl There are so many conwlsions of the ambitious. Show me tbat you are not one of the lusdul and ambitious. Alas, there are so many great thoughts which do tto morethan a bellows: they pufi up and makeemptier. You call Tourself free? Your dominant thought I want to hear, and not that you have escapedfrom a yolce.Are )'ou one of thosewho had the dght to escape from a yoke? There are somewho threw away th-ir last value when they threw away their sen'itude. Free frorn what? .Asif that mittered to Zarathusball\ But your eyesshould tell me brightly: free lor wha8ll Can you give yourself your own evil hnd your orrn good and hang your own will over yourself as a law? Can you be your own judge and avengerof your law? Terrible it is to be alone with the iudge and avenger of one's own law. Thus is a star thrown out into the void and into the icy breath of solitude. Today you are still suf,ering from the rrann being one: today your oourageand your hopes are still whole. But the time will come when solitude will make you weary, r when your pride will double up and your courage \ gnashits teeth. And you will c*,Iarn alonet- T[" I time will come when that which seemshish to vou I will no longerbe in sight, and that which seerislow will \ be all-too-near;eyen what seemssublime to you will I 'All is you like a ghosl And you oitl f.g\,f" I "qy, falset" are There feelingswhich want to kill the lonely; and f' if they do not succeed,well, then they themselvesI TustSie. But are you capable of this--io be a mur- [ derer?
THE POR,FABLE NIETZSCHE
ocontempt'yet? My brother, do you know the word And the agonyof your justic*being just to thosewho despise youP You force many to relearn about you; they cbarge it bitterly against you. You came close to them and yet passedby: that they will never forgive. You pass over and beyond thern: but the higher you ascend,the smaller you appear tii the eye of envy. But most of all they hate thosewho fly. oHow oI would ycu be just to meP you must say. chooseyour injustice as my proper lot." Injustice and fflth they throw after the lonely one: but, my brother, if you would be a star, you nust not shine less for them becauseof that. And beware of the good and the iustl They like to crucify those who invent their own virtue for themselve-they hate the lonely one. Beware also of holy simptcityl Everything that is not simple it considers unholy; it also likes to play with ffre-the stake. And beware also of &e attacls of your lovel The lonely one offers hfu hand too quickly to whomever he en counters.To somepeople you may not give your hand, only a paw: and I desire that your paw should also have claws. But the worst enemy)rou can encounterwill always be you, yourself; you lie in wait for yourself in caves and woodsLouely one' ),ur. are going tbe way to yourself. And 'rour way leads p*st yourself and your seven devils. You will be a heretic to yourself and a witch and soothsayerand fool and doubter and unholy one and a vilbin. You must wish to oonsumeyourself in your own flame: how could you wish to becomenew unless pu had ffrit becomeashesl L"ely one, you are going the way of the creator:
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FIRST PART 177 you would create a god for yourself out of yoru seven devils. Lonely onq you are going the way of the lover: yourself'you love, anil therefbreyou_despiseyourself, as only lovers despise.The lover would create because he deipises.Wha[ does he know of love who did not preciselywhat he lovedl have to despise --co ^you.^lon"tiriutt *itn your love anil withl ) i.d your cleation,.my brother; and only much later wiUJ l justice limp after you. With my tears go into your loneliness,my brother. I love him who wants to create over and beyond him' self and thus perishes. Thus spokeZarathustra. ON LITTLE
OLD AND YOUNG WOMEN
'\Mhy do you steal so eautiously through the twi' light, Zarathustra?And what do you conceal so carefully under your coat? Is it a treasureyou have been $ven? or a child born to you? Or do you yourself now follow the ways of tlieves, you friend of thosewho are evil?' 'Verily, my brother," said Zarathustra,oit fu a treasure I have been given: it is a Uttle truth that I cany. But it is troublesomelike a young child, and if I dont hold my hand over its mouth, it will ery overloudly. 'TVhen I went on my way todan alone, at the hour when the sun goesdown, I met a little old woman who 'Much has Zarathustraspoken spoke thus to my soul: to us women too; but never did he speakto us about 'About woman.' And I answeredher: woman one 'Speak to should speak only to men.' Then she said: me too of womaq I am old enough to forget it im-
u8
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
meiliately.' And I obliged the little old woman and I spoketo her thus: *Everything about woman is a riddle, and everything about \iloman has one solution; that is Pregnancy. Man is for woman e means: the end is always ttre child. But what is woman for man? 'A real man wants two things: danger and play. woman as the most dangerous therefore for -war, and plaything. Man woman for warrior
does not like all-too-sweet fruit;
thereforehe likes woman: eventhe sweetestwomanis bitter. Woman understandschildren better than man does,but man is more childlike than woman. "In a real man a child is hidden-and wants to play. Co to i! women,discoverthe child in manl Let woman be a plaything, pure and ffne, like a gem, irradiated by the virtues of a world that has not yet arrived. Let the radianceof a star shine through your lovel Let your hope be: May I give birth to the overman! 'Let there be couragein your lovel With your love you should proceedtoward him who arousesfear in you. I-et your honorbe in your lovetLittle doeswoman understanit of honor othenpise.But let this be your honor: always to love more than you are loved, and neverto be second. "Let man fear woman when she loves: then she makesany sacriffce,and everything else seemswithout value to [er. Let man fear womanwhen shehates:for deep down in his soul man is merely evil, while womatt is bad. Whom does woman hate most? Thus 'I spokethe iron to the magnet: hate you most because liou attract, but are not strong enough to pull me to you.'
FIRST PART I79 THUS SPOKEZARATITUSTRA: 'The happinessof man is: I will. The happinessof 'Behold, woman is: he wills. iust now the world beeame perfectl'-thus thinks every woman when she obeysout of entire love. And woman must obey and ffnd a depth for her surface.Surfaceis the disposition of woman: a mobile, stormy fflm over shallow water. Man's disposition,however, is deep; his river roars in subterraneancaves:woman feels his strength but does not comprehendit 'Many 'Then the little old woman answeredme: ffne things has Zarathustrasaid, especiallyfor those who are young enoughfor them. It is stuangezTarathustraknows women little, and yet he is right about them. Is this because nothing- is impossiblewith woman? And now, as a token of gratitude, accept a Iittle truth. After all, I am old enough for it. Wrap it up and hold your hand over its mouth: else it will cry overloudly, this little truth.' "Then I said: 'Woman, give me your ftttle truth.' And thus spokethe little old woman: " You are going to women? Do not forget the whipl'" Thus spokeZarathustra. oN THE lDpBn's BrrE
t {;g;l -
One day Zarathustrahad fallen asleepunder a ffg tree, for it was hot, and had put his arns over his face. And an adder came and bit him in the neck, so that Zarathustracried out in pain. When he had taken his arm from his face, he looked at the snake, and it recognizedthe eyesof Zarathusha,writhed awkwardly, and wanted to get away. 'Oh no," said Zarathustra, 'as yet you have not accepted my thanks. You waked rne in time, my way is still long." "Your way is short"
r80
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
omy poison kills." Zarathustra the adder said sadly; *When has smiled. i dragott-ever died of the poison 'But take back your poison.You of a snake?"he said. are not rich enoughto give it to me." Then the adder fell around his neck a second time and licked his wound. When Zarathustraonc€ related this to his disciples -And what, O Zarathusha,is the moral of they asked: your story?"Then Zarathustraansweredthus: The annihilator of morals,the good and iust call me: my story is immoral But if you have an enemy, do not requite him evil with good for that would put him to shame.Rather prove that he did you somegood. And rather be angry than put to shame.And if you are cursed, I do not like it that you want to bless. Rather join a little in the cursing. And if you have been done a great wrong, then quickly add ffve Iittle ones: a gmesomesight is a by a wrong. person single-mindedlyobsessed Did you alreadyknow this? A wrong sharedis half right. And he who is able to bear it should take the wrong upon himself. A little revengeis more human than no revenge. And if punishmentis not also a right and an honor for the transgressor,then I do not like your punishments either. ,2 It is nobler to dec-l4rsoneself wrong than to insist ( onbeiry-r:,ffipecially when one is right. Only one for that. rich nru-sfte enough , I do not like your cold iustiee; and out of the eyes of your iudges there always looks the executionerand his cold steel. Tell ne, where is that justice which is love with open eyes?Would that you might invent for me the love that bearsnot only all punishmentbut also
fIRST PART 181 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTR.A: all guiltt Would that you might invent for me the justice that acquits everyone,excePthim that judgesl Do you still want to hear this too? In him who would be just througb and through even lies become kindnessto others. But how could I think of being iust through and through?How can I give each his own? Let this be suftcientfor mer I give eachmy own. Finally, my brothers, beware of doing wrong to any hermit. How could a hermit forget?How could he repay? Like a deep well is a hermit. It is easyto throrv in a stone;but if the stonesankto the bottom,tell me, who would get it out again?Beware of insulting the hermit. But if you have done so-well, then kill him too. Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON
CIIILD
AND
MARRIAGE
f have a questionfor you alone,my brother: Iike a soundinglead, I cast this questioninto your soul that I might know how deep it is. You are young and wish for a child and marriage. But I ask you: Are you a man entitled to wish for a child? Are you the victorious one, the self-conqueror, the commanderof your senses,the master of your virtues? This I ask you. Or is it the animal and need Or lack of that speakout of your wish?Or loneliness? peacswith yourseU? Let your victory and your freeilom long for a child. You shall build Uving monumentsto your victory and your liberation.You shall build over and beyondyourself, but ffrst you must be built yourself,perpendicular in body and soul. You shall not only reproduceyourseU, but produce somethinghigher. May the garden of marriagehelp you in thatl
r82
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
You shall create a higher body, a ffrst movement, a self-propelled wheel-you shall create a creator. Marriage: thus I name the rvill of two to create the one that is more than those who created it. Reverence for each other, as for those willing with such a will, is what I name marriage. Let this be the meaning and truth of your marriage. But that which the all-toomany, the superfluous, call marriage-alas, what shall f name thatP AIas, this poverty of the soul in pairt Alas, this fflth of the soul in pairl Alas, this wretched contentment in pairl Marriage they call this; and they say that their marriages are made in heaven, Well, I do not like it, this heaven of the superfuous. No, I do not like them-these animals entangled in the heavenly net. And let the god who limps near to bless what he never joined kee.phis distance from mel Do not laugh at such marriages! What child would not have cause to weep over its parents? Worthy I deemed this man, and ripe for the senseof the earth; but when I saw his wife, the earth seemed to me a house for the senseless.Indeed, I wished that the earth might tremble in conrnrlsions when a saint mates with a goose. This one went out like a hero in quest of kuths, and eventually he conquered a little dressed-up lie. His marriage he calls it. That one was reserved and chose choosily. But all at once he spoiled his company forever: his maniage he calls it. That one sought a maid with the virtues of an angel. But all at once he became the maid of a woman; and now he must turn himself into an angel. Careful I have found all buyers now, and all of them have cunning eyes. But even the most cunning still buys his wife in a poke.
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART 188 Many brief follies-that is what you call love. And your marriage concludesmany brief follies, as a long stupidity. Your love of woman, and woman's love of man--+h, that it were compassionfor suffering and shroudedgods!But for the rnostpart, two beastsffnd each other. But evenyour bestlove is merelyan ecstaticparable and a painful ardor. It is a torch that shouldlight up higher^pathsfor you. Over and beyonclyourselulsyoiu shall love one day. Thus learn ffrst to love. And for that you had to drain the bitter cup of your love. Bitterness lies in the cup of even the best love: thus it arouses Ionging for the overman;thus it arousesyour thirst, creator.Thirst for the creator,an arrow and longing for the overman:tell me, my brother,is this your will to marriage?Holy I call such a will and such a marriage. Thus spokeZarathusha. ON FREE
DEATH
\{any die too late, and a few die too early. The doctrine still soundsstrange:"Die at the right timel' Die at the right time-thus teachesZarathustra.Of course,how could thosewho neverlive at the right time die at the right time? Would that they had never been born! Thus I counselthe superfluous.But even the superfluousstill make a fuss about their dying; anil eventhe hollowestnut still wantsto be cracked.Eveqybody considersdying important;but as yet deathis no festival.As yet men have not learnedhow one hallows the mostbeautifulfestivals. I showyou the deaththat consummates-aspur and a promiseto the survivors.He that consummates his life dies his death victoriously, surrounded by those
THE PORTABLf,NIETZSCHE I84 who hope and promise.Thus should one leam to die; and there should be no festival where one dying thus doesnot hallow the oathsof the living. To die thus is best; secondto this, however,is to die ffghting and to squandera great soul. But equally hateful to the ffghter and the victor is your grinning death, which creeps up like a thief-and yet comes as the master. My death I praise to you, the free death which comesto me becausef want-it. And when shall I want it? He who has a goal and an heir will want death at the right time for his goal and heir. And from reverence for his goal and heir he will hang no more dry wreaths in the sanctuaryof life. Verily, I do not want to be like the ropemakers:they drag out their threadsand always walk bachvards. Somebecometoo old even for their truths and victories: a toothlessmouth'no longer has the right to every truth. And everybodywho wants fame must take leave of honor betimes and practice the difficult art of leaving at the right time. One must ceaseletting oneselfbe eatenwhen one tastesbest: that is known to those who want to be loved long. Thereare sourapples,to be sure,whoselot requires that they wait till the last day of autumn: and they becomeripe, yellow, and wrinkled all at once. In some, the heart grows old ffrst; in others, the spirit. And some are old in their youth: but late youth preserveslong youth. For some,life turns out badly: a poisonousworm eats its way to their heart. Let them seeto it that their dying turns out that much better. Some never become srveet;they rot already in tlte summer.It is cowardice that keepsthem on their branch. All-too-manylive, and all-tooJongthey hang on their
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA:
FIRST PART
r85
brarrches.Would that a storm came to shake all this worm-eatenrot from the treel Would that there camepreachersof quick deathl I would like them as the true stormsand shakersof the trees of hfe. But I hear only slow death preached,and patience with everything "earthly." Alas, do you preach patience with the earthly? It is the earthly that has too much patiencewith'you, blasphemersl Verily, that Hebrewdied too earlywhom the preachers of slow deathhonor; and for many it has becomea calamity that he died too early. As yet he knew only tearsand the melancholyof the Hebrew,and hatredof the gooil and the iust-the Hebrew Jesus: then the longing for death overcamehim. Would that he had remained in the wildemessand far from the good and the justl Perhapshe would have learnedto live and to love the earth-and laughter too. Believeme, my brothers!He died too early; he himself would have recantedhis teaching,had he reached my age.Noble enoughwas he to recant.But he was not yet mature.Immatureis the love of the youth, and immature his hatred of man and earth. His mind and the wings of his spirit are still tied down and heavy, But in the man there is more of the child than in the youth, and lessmelancholy:he knowsbetter how to die and to live. Free to die and free in death,able to say a lroly No when the tirne for Yes has passed:thus'he knowshow to die and to live. That your dying be no blasphemyagainst man and earth, my friends,that I ask of the honeyof your soul. -I1 your dying, your spirit and virtue should still glow Iike a sunsetaround the earth: else your dying has tumed out badly. Thus I want to die myself that you, my friends, may
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 186 Iove the earth more for my sake; and to earth l want to return tlat I may find rest in her who gave bidh to me. Verily, Zarathustrahacl a goal; he threw his ball: now you, my friends, are the heirs of my goal; to you I throw my goldenball. More than anything,I like to see you, my friends, throwing the goldenball. And so I still linger a little on the earth: forgive me for that. Thus spokeZarathustra. ON THE
CIFT€IVING
VIRTUE
1
When Zarathushahad said farewell to the town to which his heart was attached, and which was named The Motley Coq many who called themselveshis disciples followed him and escorted.him. Thus they came to a crossroads;then Zarathustratold them that he now wanted to walk alone, for he liked to walk alone. His disciplesgave him as a farewell present a stafi with a golden handle on which a serpent coiled around the sun. Zarathustrawas delightedwith the stafi and leaned on it; then he spoket}lus to his disciples: Tell me: how did gold attain the highest value? Because it is uncommonand uselessand gleaming and gentle in its splendor;it alwaysgivesitself. Only as the image of the highest virtue did gold attain the highest value. Goldlike gleam the eyes of the $ver. Golden splendormakespeaeebetweenmoonand sun.Uncomit is gleamingand mon is the highestvirtue and useless; gentle in its splendor:a gift-giving virtue is the highest virtue. Verily, I have found you out my disciples:you strive, as I do, for the gift-giving virtue. What would you have in cpmmonwith cats and wolves?This is your thirst: to
FIRSTPART 187 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: becomesacriffcesand gifts yourselves;and that is why you tl,irst to pile up all the richesln your soul.Insatiably your soul strivesfor treasuresand gems,because your virtue is insatiable in wanting to give. You force all thingsto and into yourselfthat they may fow back out of your well as the gifts of your love. Verily, such a gift-giving love must approachall valuesas a robber; but whole and holy I call this selffshness. There is also another selffshness, an all-too-poorancl hungry one that alwayswants to steal-the selfishness of the sick: sick selfishness. With the eyesof a thief it looks at everything splendid; with the greed of hunger it sizesup those who have much to eat; and alwaysi1 sneaksaround the table of those who give. Sickness speaksout of guch craving and invisible degeneraHon; the thievish greedof this selffshness speals of a diseased body. Tell me, my brothers: what do we considerbad and worst of allP Is it not d,egmeration?And it is degeneration that we always infer where the gift-giving soul is Iacking. Upward goes ouf way, from genus to over, genus.But we shudderat the degeneratesensewhich 'Everything says, for me." Upward fies our sense:thus it is a parable of our bodn a parable of elevation. Parablesof suchelevationsare the namesof the virtues. Thus the body goesthrough history, becomingand fghting. And the spirit-what is that to the body?The herald of its ffghts and victories,eompanionand echo _ All namesof good and evil are parables:they do not deffne,they merelyhint A fool is he who wants knowledge of theml Watch for every hour, my brothers, in which yorn spirit wants to speakin parables: there lies the origin of your virtue. There your body is elevatedand resurrected; with its rapture it delights the spirit so that it
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE I88 tums creator and esteemerand lover and benefactorof, all thing* When yorn heart flows broad and full like a river, a blessingand a danger to thoseliving near: there is the origin of your virtue. When you are abovepraise and blame,and your will wants to commandall things, like a lover'swill: there is the origin of your virtue. When you despisethe ageeableand the softbed and cannot bed yourself far enoughfrom the soft: there is the origin of your virtue. When you will with a.single will and you call this cessationof all need "necessilir there is the origin of your virtue. Verily, a new goodand bdl is she.Veriln a new deep nunmrr and the voice of a rlew welll Power is she, this new virtue; a dominant thought is. she, and around her a vrise soul: a golden surq and around it the serpent of knowledge. I
Here Zarathustrafell silent for e while and looked lovingly at his disciples. Then he continued to speak thus, and the tone of his voice had changed: Remain faithful to the earth, my brothers, with the power of your virtue. Let your gift-giving love and lour knowledgeservethe meaning of the earth. Thus I beg and beseechyou. Do not let them fly away from earthly things and beat with their wings againsteternal walls. Alas, there has alwap been so much virtue that has flown away. Lead back to the earth the virtue that flew eway, as I do--$ack to the body, back to life, that it tley give thC earth a meaning a human meaning. In a hundred ways, thus far, have spirit as well as virtue flown away and madc mishkgs. Alas, all this de-
FIRSTPART 18S THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: lusion and all thesemistakesstill dwell in our body: they have therebecomebody and will. In a hundredways, thus far, spirit as well as virtue has tried and erred. Indeed, an experimerltwas man. Alas, much ignorance and error have become body within us. Not only the reasonof millennia,but their madness too, breaksout in us. It is dangerousto be an heir. Still we ffght stepby stepwith the giant, accident;and over the whole of humanity there has ruled so far only nonsensF-no sense. Let your spirit and your virtue servethe senseof the earth, my brothers;and let the value of all things be positednewly by you. For that shall you be ffghterstFor that shall you be creators! With knowledge,the body puriffesitself; makingexperimentswith knowledge,it elevatesitself; in the lover of knowledge all instincts becomeholy; in the elevated,the soul becomesgay. Physician,help yourself: thus you help your patient too. Let this be his best help that he may behold with his eyesthe man who healshimself. There are a thousandpaths that have never yet been trodden-a tiousand healths and hidden isles of life. Even now, man and mans earth are unexhaustedand undiscovered. Wake and listen,you that are lonelyl From the future come winds with secret wing-beats; and good tidings are proclaimedto delicateears.You that are lonely today, you that are withdrawing, you shall one day be t*re people: out oJ you, who have chosenyourselves, there shall grow a chosenpeople-and out of them, the overman. Verily, the earth shall yet become a site of rec.,overy. And even now a new fragrancesurounds ig bringing salvatioeand a new hope.
190
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
3 When Zarathustrahad said these words he became silent, Iike one who has not yet said his last word; Iong he weighedhis stafi in his hand, doubtfully.At last he spokethus, and the toneof his voicehad changed. Now I go alone,my disciples.You too go now, alone. Thus I want it. Verily, I counselyou: go away from me and resistZarathustralAnd even better: be ashamedof himl Perhapshe deceivedyou. the man of knowledge must not only love his €nemies,he must alsobe able to hate his friends. One repaysa teacherbadly if one always remains nothing but a pupil. And why do you not want to pluck at my wreath? You revere me; but what if your reverencetumbles one day? Bewarelest a statueslay you. You sayyou believein Zarathustra?But what matters Zarathustra?You are my believers-but what matter all believers?You had not yet soughtyourselves:and you found me. Thus do all believers; therefore all faith arnountsto so little. Now I bid you loseme and ffnd yourselves;and only when you have all deniedme will I return to you. Veriln my brothers, with different eyes shall I then seekmy lost ones;with a &fferent love shall I then love you. And once again you shall becomemy friends and the children of a singlehope-and then shall I be with you the third time, that I may celebratethe great noon with you. Antl that is the great noon when man standsin the middle of his way between beast and overman and celebrateshis way to the evening as his highest hope: for it is the way to a new morning.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FIRSTPART tgl Then will he who goesunder blesshimself for being one who goes over and beyond; and the sun of his knowledgewill standat high noonfor him. *Dead, are all gods: noo ue uant the ooennan to ko{
ThusSpokeZarathustra: Second Part . . . and only when ym.lwoe all il,eniedme uiV I return to gou. VniI!, my brothers, uith diterent egbsshnll I then seekmy lnst ones;uith a different looe shall I then looe you, (Zarathustra,*On the GiftGioingVirtue," l, p. tgo) EDrroR'B NoTEs t. The Chlld uith the Minot Transition to Part Two with its partly new style: 'A new speechcomes to me. . . . My spirit no longer wants to walk on worn soles.o z, Upon the BlessedIsles: The creative life versus be[ef in God: "God is a conjecture."The polemic against tho opening lines of the ffnal chorus in Goelhe's Faast is taken up againin the chapter"On Poetso(seecomments,p. t$). But the lines immediately following in praise oF impermanenceand creationare thoroughlyin the spirit of Coethe. g, On the Pitying: A return to thi style of Part One and a rrlajor statementof Nietzsche'sideas on pity, res$entixnent, and repression, 4,- O_n Priests: Relatively mild, compared to dre portrait of the priest in The AniichrM ffve y6ars later. 5. On. the -Yirtuous: A typology of difierent conceptionsof virtue, with vivisectionalintent. Nietzschedenounces"the fflth of the words: revenge, punishment, reward, retribution," which he associaieswith Christianity; but also
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE ovirtue ls the qpasm under that rigorism for which 'call the scourgd' and those who it virtue whm their vices grow Iary." The pun on 'I am just" is, in German: umn sie sagen: "lch bh getechti so kllngt es hnmer gbich uie: "ich bln geriichtf' 6. On the Rabblp: The theme of Zarathustra's nausea is developed ad. nauseam in later chapters. La Naus64o speak in SarEe's terms-is one of his chief trials, and its eventual conquest is his greatest triumph. 'I often grew weary of the spirit when I found that even the rabble had espdt'' may help to account for someof Nietzsche'sremarls elsewhere.Generally he celebratesthe spirit-not in opposition to the body but as nrens sana hr corporc sanlo. 7, On the Torantulns: One of the central notifs of Nietzschet philosophy is stated in italics: 'that man be delivered from revenge." In this chapter, dre claim of human equality is criticized as an expressionof the rcssentlmetrtof the subequal. 8, On the Famous Wlse Men: One cannot serve two masters: the people and the truth. The philosophers of the past have too often rationalized popular prejudices. But 'tpirit the service of truth is a passionand marlyrdom, for is the life that itself cuts into lifer with its agony it increasesits own knowledge." The song of songs on tho spirit in this chapter may seem to contradict Nietzsche's insistence,in the chapter 'iOn the Despisersof the Body," that the spirit is a mere i:nstrument. Both themes are central in Nietzsche's thought, and their apparent contradiction is partly due to the fact that both are stated metaphgrically. For, in trutlr, Nietzsche denies any crude dualism of body and spirit as a popular prejudice. The life of the spirit and the life of the body are aspectsof a single life. But up to a point the contradiction can also be resolved nretaphorically: life usesthe spirit against its present form to attain a higher perfection. Marfs enhancement is lnseparable from the spirit; but Nietzsche denouncesthe occasional efiorts of the spirit to destroy life instead of pruning it.
192
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SEcoND PARI' 19ll Nlght Song: A,ight am I; ah, tlat I yere nightt" Tha * rc, flu DarclngSong: L{e and wlsdom as jealouswomen. ''Invulaerable am I only in tlo beel' n. The Tomb Song: p. On Self-Ooercomfng:T7rc ffrst long discussionof the 'On the will to power marks, together with the chapters Pitying" and "On the Tarantulas," one of the high points of Pa$ Two. Philosophicalln however, it raisesmany difrculties.( Seemy Nletzsche,6,III. ) tg. On Those Who Are Sublhne: The doctrine of selfovercoming is here guarded agatnstmisunderstandings:far from favoriug austereheroics,Nietzschepraiseshumor (ond practices it: rvitness the whole of, Zorathustra, especially Pa* Four) and, no less, gacefulness and graciousness. The three sentencesnear the end, beginniag "Anil there is nobody . . . : representa wonderfullyconcise statement of much of his philosophy. :,4. On the Latd. of Educatbn: Against modern eclecticisur and lack of style. "Rather would I be a day laborer in Hades . . .': in t\e Odystey, the shade of Achilles would rather be a day laborer on the smallest ffeld tbaa king of all the dead ln Hadq. Tnrdhrffira abounds in sinilar allusions. 'Everythtng ileseevesto perish," for example, is an abbreviation of a dictum of Goethe's Mephistopheles. r5. On Immacuhte Perception: Labored sexual imagery, alrcady nctable in'The Dancing Song," keeps this critique of detacirment from becoming incisive. Not arid but, fudged by high standards, a mismatch of messageand metaphoi. Or put positively: somethingof a personal docuT ment irerefore tts German references to the sun ag ferniuine have been retained in translatiou. 'Loving anil perislfng (Lkben uil anteryehn)o do not rhyme in German either. 16. On Scholarc: Nietzsche's, not Zaratllustral autobiogmPhy. 17. h Poets: T\is chapter ls full of allusiors to the ftnal :ho"us in Goethe'sFcus?,which might be hanslated tlusl What is deskuctible Is but a parablei
194
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE What fails ineluctably The unileclarable, Here it wasseen, Here it wasaction; The Etemal-Feminine Lures to per{ection.
r8. On Crcd Eoents: How succesdul lrietzsche's attempb at narrative are is at least debatablo. Here tle story oistracts &om bis statement of his anti-political aBitude. Eut the curious mixture of the soleu and frivolous, myth 'tow-wow," episasr, aud is of course entirely inteotioual. Even the sinilarity between the ghost's cry and the words of &e white rabbit in Allce hWonileilanil probably woulil not have dismayed Nietzscho in tlre least. 'On tg The Sootlnaget In the chapter the Adder's BitC a brief parable introduces somo of Zaratlusba's ffuest sayings; but hero the parable is ofiered for its own sake and we feel closer to Rimbaud thalr to Proverbs.the sootbsayer rcappears in Part Foru. zo. On Reilenplon: In the coucepdon of inverse crippla anil the resrarks on revenge and punishment Zarathustra's moral pathos reappearsto rome extent; but the mooil ofi the preceding chapta ffgures in bis subsequentreflection$ which lead up to, but *op short of, Nietzsche'snotioq of tho etemd recurrenc€of tle samoevents. zl^. On Human Prudence: First: b€tter to be deceiveil occasionallythan always to watch out for deceivers.Secoad: vanity ve,rsuspride. Third: meo today (r88g) are too concemed about petty evil, but great things are possiblo only where great evil is harnessecl zz-The Stillest How: Zarathustra cannot yet get hinself o proclaim tlo eternal recrureno€ anil hence ho lorrst leaw io 6d€r to tipeo.-
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECONDPART 195 TITE
CIIILD
WITII
TIIE
MTRNON
Then Zarathustra returned again to the mountains and to the solitudeof his cave and withdrew from men, waiting like a sowerwho hasscatteredhis seed.But his soul grew full of impatienceand desirefor tfiosewhom he loved, becausehe still had much to give them. For this is what is hardest:to closethe openhand because one loves,and to keepa senseof shameas a giver. Thus months and years passedfor the solitary; but his wisdom grew and causedhim pain with its fullness. One morning, however,he woke even before the dawn, ,reflectedlong, lying on his bed, and at last spoketo his heart: Why was I so starded io my dream that I awoke? Did not a child step up to me, carrying a mirror? "O Zarathusha,"the child said to rne, "look at yourselfin the mirror." But when I looked into the mirror I cried out, and my heart was shaken:for it was not myself I saw, but a devil's grimaceand scornful laughter.Veriln all-too-well do f understandthe sign and admonitionof the dream: my teaching is in danger; weeds pose as wheat. My enemieshave grown powerful and have distorted my teaching till those dearest to me must be a_shamed of the gifts I gavethem. I havelost my friends; the hour has cometo seekmv lost ones.' With these words Zarathustraleaped up, not lilre a frightened man seeking air but rather aJ a seer and singer who is mov-edby the spirit. Amazed,his eagle and his serpentlooked_ at him; for, Iike dawn,a coming happinesslay refected in his face. _ What has happenedto me, my animals?said Zarathustra.Have I not changed?Has not blisseometo me as a storm?My happinessis foolishand will sayfoolish things: it is still young, so be patient with it. I am
THE PORTABLE NIE,TZSCHE 196 wounded by *y happiness: let all who suffer be my physicians. I may go down again to my friends, and to my enemies too. Zarathustra may speak again and give and do what is dearest to those dear to him. My impatient love overflows in rivers, downward, toward sunrise and sunset. From silent mountains and thunderstorms of suffering my soul rushes into the valleys. Too long have I longed and looked into the distance. Too long have I belongeclto loneliness; thus I have forgotten how to be silent. Mouth have I become through and through, and the roaring of a stream from towering cfiffs: I want to plunge my speech down into the valleys. Let the river of my love plunge where there is no wayt How could a river fail to find its way to the sea? Indeed, a lake is within me, solitary and self-sufficient; but the river of my love carries it along, down to the sea. New ways I go, a new speech comes to me; weary I grow, like all creators, of the old tongues. My spirit no longer wants to walk on worn soles. Too slowly runs all speech for me: into your chariot f leap, storml And even you I want to whip with my sarcasm.Like a cry and a shout of ioy I want to sweeP over wide seas, till I find the blessed isles where my friends are dwelling. And my enemies among theml How I now love all to whom I may speakt My enemies too are part of my bliss. And when I want to mount my wildest horse, it is always my spear that helps me up besb as the ever-ready seryant of my foot: the spear that I hurl against rny enemies. How grateful I am to my enemies that I may ffnally hurl itl The tension of my cloud was too greatr between the laughter of lightning bolts I want to throw showers of hail into the depths. Violently my chest will expand,
I'ART 197 SECOND THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: violently will it blow its stonn over the mountainsand thus find relief. Verily, like a storm comemy happiness and my freedom.But let my enemiesbelieve that the eoil one ragesover their heads. Indeed,you too will be frightened,my friends, by *y wild wisdom;and perhapsyou will fleefrom it, together with my enemies.Would that I knew how to lure you lVould that my lioness,wisback with shepherds'flutesl dom, might learn how to roar tenderlyl And many things have we alreadylearnedtogether. My wild wisdom becamepregnant on lonely mountains; on rough stonesshegavebirth to her young,her youngest. Now she runs foolishly through the harsh desert and seeksand seeksgentle turf-rny old wild wisdom.Upon your hearts'gentleturf, my friends,upon your love shewould bed her most dearlybeloved. Thus spokeZarathustra" UPON
TIIE
BLESSED
ISLES
The ffgs are falling from the trees;they are good and sweet; and, as they fall their red skin bursts. I am a north wind to ripe ffgs. Thus, like ffgs,theseteachingsfall to you, my friends; now consumetheir juice and their sweet meat. It is iauhlmn about us, and pure sky and afternoon.Behold what fullnessthereis aboutus! And out of suchoverllow it is beautiful to look out upon distant seas.Once one said God when one looked upon distant seas;but now I have taught you to say: overman. God is a conjecture;but I desirethat yciurconiectures should not reach beyond your creativewill. Could you creotea god?Then do not speakto me of any gods.But you could well create the overman. Perhaps not you yourselves,my brothers.But into fathersand forefathers
THE PORTABLE NIETISCHE
of the overmanyou could re-createyourselves:and let this be your best creation. God is a conjecture; but I desire that your conjecturesshouldbe limited by what is thinkable.Couldyou think a god? But this is what the will to tnrth should mean to you: that everythingbe changedinto what is thinkable for man, visible for man, feelableby man. You should think ttuough your own sensesto their consequenc€s. And what you have calledworld, that shall be created only by you: your reasor\ your image, your will, your love shall thus be realized. And verily, for your own bliss, you lovers of knowledge. And how would you bear life without this hope, you lovers of knowledge?You could not have been born either into the incomprehensibleor into the irraHonal. But let me reveal my heart to you entirely, my friends: il there were gods,how could I endure not to be a godl Hmce there are no gds. Though I drew this conclusiorqnow it drawsme. God is a conjechxe; but who could drain all the agony of this conjecturewithout dyng? Shall his faith be taken away from the creator,and from the eagle,his soaringto eagleheights? God is a thought that makes crooked all that is straight, and makesturn whateverstands.How? Should time be gone, and all that is impermanenta mere lie? To think this is a dizry whirl for human bones,and a vomit for the stomach;veriln I call it the turning sicknessto conjecturethus. Evil I call ig and misanthropic -all this teachingof the One and the Plenum and the Unmoved and the Sated and the Permanent.All the permanent-that is only a parable. Anil the pgets lie too much. It is o-f"time and becoming lhat the best parables
PART 199 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND shouldspeak:let them be a praise and a justiffcationof -all impemalrnce. Creation-that is the great redemptionfrom suffering, and lifet growing light. But that the creatormay be, sufiering is neededand much change.Indeed, there must be much bitter dying in your life, you creators. llhus are you advocatesand justiffersof all impermanence.To be the child who is newly born, the creator must also want to be the mother who gives birt*r and the pangsof the birth-giver. Verily, through a hundred soulsI havealreadypassed on my way, and through a hundredcradlesand birth pangs.Many a farewell have I taken; I know the heartrending last hours. But thus my creative will, my destiny, wills it. Or, to say it more honestly: this veqy destiny-my will wills. Whatever in me has feeling, suffersand is in prison; but my will always comesto me as my liberator and, joy-bringer. Willing liberates: that is the true teaching of will and Iibe*y-thus Zarathustrateachesit. Willing no moreand esteemingno more and creatingno moreoh, that this great wearinessmight always remain far from mel'In knowledgetoo I feel only my will's joy in begettingand becoming;and if there is innocencein my knowledge,it is becausethe will to beget is in iL Away from God and gods this will has lured me; what could one createif godsexisted? But my fervent tii[ to createimpels me ever I "g"io toward man; thus is the hammer impelled toward the / stone. O men, in the stone there sleepsan image I the image of my images. Alas, that it must sleep in the hardest, the ugliest stonel Now my hammer rages
cruelly againstits prison. what came to me-the
I want to perfect it; for a stillest and lightest of all
200
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
things once came to me. The beauty of the ovennan came to me as a shadow. O my brothers, what are the gods to me now? Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON THE
PITYINC
'Look My friends, a gibe was related to your friend: at Zarathusbat Does he not walk among us as if we
that is why he who is noble bids himself not to shame: shamehe imposeson himself before all who sufier. Verily, I do not like them, the merciful who feel blessed in their pity: they are lacking too much in shame.If I must pity, at least I do not want it known; and if I do pity, it is preferably from a distance. I should also like to shroud my face and flee before I am recognized;and thus I bid you do, rny friends. Would that my destiny led those like you, who do not sufier, acrossmy way, and those with whom I *rl shara hope and meal and honey. Verily,- I may have done this and that for sufierers;but alwaysI seemedto have done better when I learnedto feel better ioys. As long as there havebeenmen, man has felt too little ioy: that alone,my brothers,is our original sin. And learning better to feel jon we learn best not to hurt othersor to plan hurts for them. Therefore I wash my hand when it has helped the
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECONDPART 201
sufierer; thereforeI wipe evenmy soul.Having seenthe sufierersufier, I was ashamedfor the sakeof his shame; and when I helped him, I transgressedgriwously againsthis pride. doesnot malq-E€*'gldteful, but forgotten, it tums vengeful; into
'fe
worm.
in acceptinglDistinguish by aiieptingl" Thus I advisethosewho have nothing to give. But I am a giver of gifts: I like to give, as a friend to friends. Strangers,however, and the poor may them' selvespluck the fruit from my tree: that will causethem less shame. j.a Y4rily, itla Ypnly,ir alrlished But beggarsshoyildbe abglished "/f"ayl lnotto;{ve ityannoyty'hottofve
w.*y"Yu':v
?:iffi*y
And also sinners and bad conscienceslBelieve me' my
teachesmen to bite. friends: the bite of conscience Worst of all, however, are petty thoughts. Verily, even evil deedsare better than petty thoughts. 'The pleasurein a lot of petty To be sure,you say: nastinesssavesus from many a big evil deed." But here one should not wish to save. An evil deed is Iike a boil: it itches and initates and honestly."Behold,I am disease" breaksope*-it spealcs -thus speaksthe evil deed; that is its honesty. But a petty thought is like a fungus: it creepsand stoops and does not want to be anywhere-until the whoie body is rotten and withered with little fungi. by the devil I whisper But to him who is possessed *Better for you to lear up your devill Even this word: for you therei! still a way to greatnessl" My brothen, one knows a little too much about everybody.And we canevenseethroughsomemenand yet we can by no meanspcss tbrough them.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 2U2 It is difrcult to live with peofe becauseit is so difr' cult to be silent And not againsthim who is repugnant to us are we most unfar, but against him who is no concemof ours. But if you have a sufiering friend, be a restingplace for his snhering,but a hard becl as it were, a ffeld cot: thus will you profft him best 'I Anil if-a friend doesyou evil, then say: forgive you what you did to me; but that you have doneit to yottrself-Low could I forgive thai?" Thus jP:ukt and pity. "U 'ireat love: it overcomesev-n forgiveness one ltlets it one's heart; for if one on. ought ousht to hold on to orre's One 8o' Q! in the
ifftf,i"
the folly of the pitliigl wo9 to all who
urilhorrt havinr a *heipht nityl height that is above their pttyl without having
lfrus spokJthe dEvil to me once: "God too has hls hell: thatis his love of man.-And mostrecentlyI heard 'God is dead; Goil died of his pity for him say this: man." thus be wamed of pity: from there a heavy cloud will yet come to manl Verily, r- understandweather siens.But mark this too: all gieat love is evenaboveall id pity; for it still wantsto createthe beloved' 'tvtyself I sacriffceto my love,-nU *V neighbot asruns the speechof all creaton. But all *ytrf7-rhus creatorsare hard. T'husspokeZarathusba. ON
PNIESTS
Once Zarathustragave his disciplesa sign and spoke thesewords to them: "Here are priests; and though they are my enemies,
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 208 passby them silendy and with sleepingswords.Among them too there are heroes;many of them have suffered too much: therefore they want to make others sufier. nTlrreyare evil enemiesl nothing is more vengeful than their humility. And whoever attacks them, soils himself easily. Yet my blood is related to theirs, and I want to know that my blood is honoredeven in theirs.' And when they had passed,pain seizedZarathustra; and he had not wrestled long with his pain when he beganto speakthus: I am moved by compassionfor these priests. I also ffnd them repulsive;but that mattersleast of all to me since I have been among men. But I sufier and have suffered with them: prisoners they are to me, and marked men. He whom they call Redeemerhas put them in fetters: in fetters of false values and delusive words. Would that someonewould yet redeem them from their Redeemerl Once when the sea cast them about they thought they were landing on an island; but behold,it was a sleepingmonster.Falsevaluesand delusivewords: these are the worst monstersfor mortals; long doescalamity sleep and wait in them. But eventually it comesand wakes and eats and devours what built huts upon it. Behold these huts which thesepriests builtt Churches they call their sweet-smellingcaves.Oh, that falsiffed Iightl That musty airl Here the soul is not allowed to soar to its height. For thus their faith commands: 'Crawl up the stairs on your knees,ye sinnerst" Verily, rather would f see even the shamelessthan the conto$edeyesof their shameand devotionlWho created for themselvessuch cavesand stairwavsof repentance? Wasit not suchaswantedto hide thlmselves and were ashamedbeforethe pure sky? And only when the pure sky again loo}s through
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 204 and dolvn upon grassand red poppies ceilings broken near broken walls, will I again tum my heart to ths abodesof this god. They have called 'Gocl" what was contrary to them and gave them pain; and verily, there was much of the heroic in their adoration.And they did not know how to love their god exceptby crucifyingman. As corpsesthey meantto live; in black they decked out their coqpses;out of their speech,too, I still smell the bad odor of death chambers.And whoever lives near them lives near black ponds out of which an - . ominous frog sings its song with sweet melancholy. -f-fThey would have to sing better songsfor me to learn havefaith in their Redeemer:and his discipleswould Hto dlt,lhave to look moreredeemedl rgdt? Naked would I see them: for only beauty shohld preach repentance.But who would be persuadedby this muffied melancholy?Veriln their redeemersthemselves did not come out of freedom and the seventh heavenof freedorn.Verily, they themselveshave never walked on the carpets of knowledge.Of gaps was the spirit of theseredeemersmade up; but into every gap they put their delusion,their stopgap,which they called God. Their qpirit was drowned.in their pity; and when they were swollenand overswollenwith pity, it was always a greatfolly that swamon top. Eagerlyand with much shoutingthey drove their herd over their path; as if there were but a single path to the future. Verily, belongedamongthe sheep. theseshepherdsthemselves Small spirits and spacioussouls theseshepherdshad; but my brothers, what small domains have even the most spacioussoulsprovedto be so farl Thb@"y$"ywalked, truth. and theirllpraughf that with blo--od-oneproved
PART t05 SECOND THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: But blood is the worst witness of truth; blooil poisons even tle purest doctrine and turns it into delusionand hatred of the heart. And if a man goesthrough ffre for his doctrine-what doesthat provePVerily, it is more if 'lvour own doctrine comesout of your own ffre. *lty heart and a cold head: *i"t" thesetwo meet there arisesthe roaring wind, the "Redeemer."There havebeengreaterones,verily, and morehighbornthan those whom the people call redeemers,those roaring winds which carry away. And you, my brothers, must be reileemedfrom still greateronesthan all the redeemers if you would find the way to freedom. Never yet has there been an overrnan.Naked I saw both the greatestand the smallestman: they are still all-too-similarto each other. Verily, even the greatestI found all-too-human. Thus spokeZarathustra. .
ON TIIE
VINTUOUS
Slack and sleepingsensesmust be addressedwith thunder and heavenlyffreworks.But the voice of beauty speals gently: it creeps only into the most awakened souls.Gently trembled and laughed my shield today; that is the holy laughter and tremor of beauty. About you, the virtuous, my beauty laughed today. And :|lrus its voice cameto me: "They still want to be paid." You who are virtuous still want to be paidl Do puli want rewardsfor virtue, and heavenfor earth, and the lf etemalfor your today? ll' And now are you angry with me becauseI teach ttrat there is no reward and paymaster?And-verily, I doAot Alas, that is my sorrow: they have lied reward and punishmentinto the foundation of things, and now also
gJo
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
into the foundationof your souls,you who are virtuous. But like the boar'ssnout, my words shall tear open the foundation of your souls: a plowsharewill I be to you. All the secretsof your foundationshall cometo light; and when you lie uprootedand brokenin the sun,then will your lies also be separatedfrom your truths. For this is your truth: you are too pure f.or the fflth .of the words: revenge,punishment,reward, retribution. fYou love your virtue as a mother her child; but when lhas a motherever wishedto be paid for her tove?Your f virtue is what is dearestto you. The thirst of the ring livesin you:.everyring sbivesand turns to reachitself again. And like a ilying star is every work of your virtue: its light is alwayssUllon its way and it wandersand when will it no longer be on its way? Thus the light of your virtue is still on its way even when the work has been done. Though it be forgotten and dead, tbe ray of its Iight still lives and wanders.That your virtue is your self and not somethingforeign, a skin, a cloak,that is the truth from the foundationof your souls, you who are virhrous. I Yet there are thosefor whom virtue is the spasmunder the scourge,and you have listened to their clamor r too much. I e"a there are others who call it virtue when their I vices grow lazy; and,when their hatred and jealousy *justice" comes shetch their limbs for once, then their to life and rubs its sleepyeyes. And there are otherswho are drawn downward: their devils draw them. But the more they sink, the more fervently glow their eyesand their lust for their god. Alas, their clamortoo has reachedyour ears,you who are virtuous: "What I am not, that, that to me are God end virtuel" And there are others who come along, heavy and
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 20t creaking like carts carrying stonesdownhill: they talk much of dignity and virtue-they call their brake virtue. And there are others who are like cheap clocksthat must be wound: they tick and they want the Uck-tock to be calledvirtue. Verily, I havemy pleasurein these: wherever I ftnd such clocks, I shall wind and wound them with mymockery,and they shallwhir for me, And others are proud of their handful of iustice anrl commit outragesagainst its sake,till the world is drowned in how ill the word. rs Out virtue comes out Ot theii moutnsfAnd when they of therr And \Mnen they say, oI am just," always it alwayssounds soun Iike'I am just-revenged.' With their virtue they want to scratch out the eyesof their enemies,and they exalt themselvesonly to hrrrrble others. And then againthere are suchas sit in their swamp and spealcthus out of the reeds:'Virhre-that is sitting still in a swamp.We bite no one and avoid thosewho want to bite; and in all things we hold the opinion that is given to us." And then again there are zuch as love gesturesand, think that virtue is somekind of gesture.Their knees always adore,and their handsare hymns to virtue, but &eir heart knows nothing about it. And then again there are such as considerit virhre 'Virtue to _say, is necessary"; but at bottomthey believe only that the police is necessary. And somewho cannotseewhat is high in man call it virtue that they see all-too-closelywhat is low in man: thus they call their evil eye virtue. And somewant to be ediffed and elevated,and ttey call that virtue, while others want to be bowled ovei, and they call that virtue too. And thus almost all believethat they have a sharein
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 208 virtue; and at the very least everyonewants to be an expert on good and evil Yet Zarathustrad"idnot cometo say to all theseliars 'What do you know of virtue? What could and fools: you know of virtue?" Rather, that you my friends, might grow weary of the old words you haveleamed from the fools and liars. Weary of the words: reward, retribution, punishment, and revengein iusticc. Weary of saying: what makesan act good is that it ls unselfish. Oh, my friends, that your self be in your deed as the mother is in her child-let that be your word concerning virtuel Veriln I may have taken a hundred words from you and the dearesttoys of your virtue, and now you are angry with me, as children are angry. They played by the sea,and a wave cameand carried ofi their toy to the depths: now they are crying. But the samewave shall bring them new toys and showernew colorful shellsbefore them. Thus they will be comforted;and like them, you too, my friendg shall have your comforting*and new colorful shells. Thus spokeZarathustra" ON TrIE
NABBLE
Life is a well of joy; but where the rabble drinks too, allwells are poisoned.I am fond of all that is clean,but I bave no wish to seethe grinning snoutsand the thirst of the unclean.They cast their eye into the well: now their revolting smile shines up out of the well. They lustfulness;and have poisonedthe holy water with their-pleasurei tley when-they called their dirty dreams poisoned the languagetoo. The flame is vexed when
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:SECONDPART 209 their moist hearts come near the ffre; the spirit itself seethesand.smokeswhere the rabble stepsneat the ffre. In their hands all fruit growssweetishand overmellow; their glancemakesthe fruit tree a prey of the wind and withers its crown. And some who tumed away from life only tumed away from the rabble: they did not want to sharewell and flame and fruit with the rabble. And somewho went into the wildernessand suffered thirst with the beastsof prey merely did not want to sit around the cistem with filthy camel drivers. And somewho came along like annihilaton and like a hailstorm to all orchardsmerely wanted to put a foot into the gaping iaws of the rabble to plug up its throat. The bite on which I gaggeil the most is not the knowledge that Me itself requires hostility and death and torture-crosses-but oncef asked,and f was almost choked by -y guesHon:What? does life require even the rabblePfue poisonedwells reguired, and stinking ffresand soileddreamsand maggotsin the bread of life? _ Not my hatred but my nauseagnawedhungrily at my life. Alas, I often grew weary of the spirit when I found that even the rabble had euprit. And I turned my back on thosewho rule when I saw what they now call ruling: higgling and haggling for power-with the rabble. I have lived with closedearsamongpeoplewith foreign tongues: would. that the tongue of their higgling and their haggling for power might remain foreign to me. And, holding my nose,I walked disgruntledthrough all o_fyesterdayand today: verily, all of yesterdayand today smellsfoul of the writing rabble. Like a cripple who has becomedeaf and blind and dumb: thus have I lived for many yearslest I live with &e- power-, _witi"g- and pleasure-rabble.Laboriously and cautiouslymy spirit climbed steps;alms of pleasurb
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 2IO its and life crept along for the blind refreshment; were as on a cane. What was it that happenedto me?How did I recleern myself from nausea?Who reiuvenatedmy sight? How did I fly to the height where no more rabble sits by the well? Was it my nauseaitself which createdwings for me and water-divining powers?Verily, I had to fly to the highestspheresthat I might ffnd the fount of pleasure again. Oh, I found it, my brotherst Here, in the highest spheres,the fount of pleasurewellsup for met And here is a life of which the rabble doesnot drink. You fow for me almost too violently, fountain of pleasure.And often you empty tlle cup again by wanting to fill it. And I must still learn to approachyou more modestly: all-too.violendy my heart still flows toward you-my heart, upon which my summer bums, short hot, melancholy, overblissful: how my summer-heart cravesyour coolnessl Gone is the hesitant gloom of my springl Gone the malice of my snowflakesin Junel Summerhave I be' csme entirel/, and summer noont A summerin the highest sphereswith cold wells and blissful silence:oh, ceme, my friends, that the silencp may become still more blissfull F'or this is our height and our home: we live here too high and steepfor all the uncleanand their thirst. Cast your pure eyes into the well of my pleasure,friendst Hou'ihould that makeit muddy?It shall laugh back at you - in its own purity. On the tree, Future, we build our nest; and in our solitudeeaglesshallbring us nourishmentin their beaks. Verily, no nourishmentwhich the uncleanmight shate: they would think they were devouring ffre and they would burn their mouths. V".tly, we keep no homes
PART 2ll SECOND THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: here for the unclean:our pleasurewould be an ice cave to their bodies and their spirits. And we want to live over them like strong winds, neighborsof the eagles,neighborsof the snow, neighl borsof the sun: thus live strongwinds.And like a wind I yet want to blow amongthem one dan and with my spirit take the breath of their spirit: thus my future wills it. Veriln a strong wind is Zarathustrafor all who are low; and this counselhe givesto all his enemiesand all who spit and spewr "Beware of spitting agaitwt tbe windl" Thus spokeZarathustra. ,
ON THE
TANANTULAS
Behold,this is the hole of the tarantula. Do you want to seethe tarantula itself? Here hangsits web; touch it, that it tremblel There it comeswillingly: welcome, tarantulal Your hiangle and symbolsits black on your back; and I also know what sits in your soul. Revengesits in your soul: whereveryou bite, black scabsgrow; your poisonmakes the soul whirl with revenge. thus I speak to you in a parabl+you who malce soulswhirl, you preachersof equality.To me you are tarantulas,and secretlyvengeful. But I shall bring your secretsto light; thereforeI laugh in yow faceswith my laughter of the heights. Therefore I tear at your webs, that your rage may lure you out of your lie-holesand your revengemay leap out from behind your word iustice. For that man be d.elioeredftom reoenge,that is for me the bridge to the highest hope, and a rainbow after long storms. The tarantulas, of course,would have it otherwise.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCTIE 2t2 'Vfhat justice meansto us is preciselythat the world be fflled with the stormsof our revenge"-thus they speak to eachother. "We shall wreak vengeanceand abuseon all whose equals we are not"-thus do the tarantula'nnd will to equality' shall henceforthbe hearts vow. the namefor virtue; and againstall that has power we want to raise our clamorl" You preachersof equality, the tyrannomaniaof impotenceclamorsthus out of you for equality: your most secretambitionsto be tvrants thus shroud themselves in words of virtue. Aggiieved conceit,repressedenvy -perhaps the conceitand envy of your fathers-erupt from you as a flameand as the frenzy of revenge. What was silent in the father speaksin the son; and often I found the son the unveiled secretof the father. yet it is not the heart that They are like enthusiasts, ffres them-but revenge.And when they becomeelegant and cold, it is not the spirit but envy that makes them elegantand cold. Their jealousyleadsthem even on the paths of thinkers;and this is the sign of their iealousy: they always go too far, till their weariness must in the end lie down to sleep in the snow. Out of every one of their complaintssoundsrevenge;in their praisethereis alwaysa sting, and to be a judge seems bliss to them. But thus I counselyou, my friends: Mistrust all in whom the impulseto punishis powerful.They are people of a low sort and stock;the hangmanand the bloodhound look out of their faces. Mistrust all who talk much of their iustice! Verily, their soulslack more than the goodand the honey.And when they call themselves just, do not forget that they would be pharisees,if only they had-power. My friends, I do not want to be mixed up and confused with others.Somepreachmy doctrine of life and
PART 218 SECOND THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: are at the sametime preachersof equality and taran' tulas. Although they are sitting in their holes, these poisonousspiders,with their backsturned on life, they ipeak in favor of life, but only becausethey wish to hurt They wish to hurt thosewho now have power, for among these the preachingof death is still most at home. If it were otherwise,the tarantulaswould teach otherwise;they themselveswere oncethe foremostslanderersof the world and bumersof heretics. I do not wish to be mixed up and confusedwith ttrese preachersof equality. For, to rne justice speaks thus: "Men are not egual." Nor shall they become equal! What would my love of the overman be if I spokeotherwise? On a thousandbridges and paths they shall throng to the future, and ever more war and inequality shall divide them: thus doesmy great love makeme spealc In their hostilities they shall becomeinventorsof images and ghosts,and with their imagesand ghoststhey shall yet ffght the highest ffght againstone another.Good and evil, and rich and poor, and high and low, and all the namesof value*arms shall they be and clattering signsthat life must overcomeitself again and again. Life wants to build itself up into the heights with pillars and steps; it wants to look into vast distances and out toward stirring beauties:.therefoie it requires height.And becauseit requiresheight,it requiressteps and contradiction among the steps and the climbers. Life wants to climb and to overcomeitself climbing. And behold, my friendsr here where the tarantula has its hole, the ruins of an ancient temple rise; behold it with enlightened eyesl Verily, the man who onee piled his thoughts to the sky in these stones-he, like the wisest,knew the secretof all life. That struggleand. inequality are presenteven in beauty, and also war for
2L4
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
power and more power: that is what he teachesus here in the plainest parable. How divinely vault and arches break through each other in a wrestling match; how they strive against each other with light and shade, r}re godlike strivers-with such assuranceand beauty let us be enemies too, my friendsl Let us strive against one another like gods. Alas, then the tarantula, my old enemy, bit me. With godlike assuranceand beauty it bit my ftnger. "Punishment there must be and justice," it thinks; "and here he shall not sing songsin honor of enmity in vain.' Indeed, it has avertged itself. And alas, now it wlll make my soul, too, whirl with revenge. But to keep me from whirling, my friends, tie me tight to this column. Rather would I be a stfite even, than a whirl of revenge. Verily, Zarathustra is no cyclone or whirlwind; and if he is a dancer, he will never dance the tarantella" Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON TIIE
FAMOUS
WISE
MEN
on of You have served the people and the not truth. the people, lil yoo famous wise And-that is t'reciselywhy you were accordedrespect. And that is also why your lack of faith was tolerated: it was a ioke and a circuitousroute to the people.Thus the master lets his slaveshave their way and is even amusedby their pranls. But the free spirit, the enemy of fetters, the nonadorer who dwells in the woods,is as hateful to the peopleas a wolf to dogs.To hound him out of his lair lthat is what the peolle have ever called'a senseof
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART gls decency"; ano dgainsthim the people still set their flercestdogs. 'Truth is there: after all, the peopleare theret Let those who seek bewaret"-these words have echoed thr_oughthe ages.You wanted to prove your people right in -their reverence:that is what you called 'will to truth,' you famouswise men. And your heartsever said to themselves:*From amongthe people I came, and from there too the voice of God cime to me. As the people'sadvocatesyou havealwaysbeenstifi-necked and cleverlike asses. _And many-who -werepowerful and wanted,to get along smoothlywith the peopleharnessedin froniof their horsesa little ass,a famouswise man. And now I shouldwish, you famouswise men, that you rvould at long last throw ofi the lion's skin cornpletely. The skin of the beastof prey, mottled, and the maneof thosewho search,seek,and conquer. Oh, to make me behevein your 'truthfulness. you would ffrst have to break your revering will. Truthful I call him who goes into godlessdeserts, having_brokenhis reveringhiart. In tG yeilow sands, hl"n"d by the sun, he squintsthirstily it the islands aboundingin wells,whereliving thingj rest under dark trees.Yet his thirst doesnot persuadehim to become like these, dwelling in comfort; for where there arc oasesthere are alsoidols. Hungry, violent, lonely, godless: thus the lion-will wants itself. l-ree from the happinessof slaves,redeemedfrom gods and adoratioris,fearlessand fearinspiring,greatand lonely: suchis the will of the truthful. It rvaseverin the desertthat the truthful havedwelt, the free spirits, as mastersof the desert; but in the
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 2I8 cities dwell the well-fed, famouswise men-the beasts of burden.For, as asses,they alwayspull the people's cart. Not that I am angry with them for thatr but for me they remain such as serveand work in a harness, even when they shine in harnesses of gold. And often worthy of praise.For thus they havebeengoodservants, speaksvirtue: "If you must be a servant,seekhim who profftsmost from your service.The spirit and vidue of your mastershall grow by your being his servant:then you yourself will grow with his spirit and his virhre." And verily, you famous wise men, you servantsof the people,you yourselveshave grown with the spirit and virtue of the peopl*and the peoplethrough you. In your honor I say this. But even in your virtuesyou remain for me part of the people,the dumb-eyedpeople -the people,who do not know what spirit is. Spirit is the life that itself cutsinto life: with its own agony it increasesits own knowledge.Did you know that? And the happinessof the spirit is this: to be anointed and through tears to be consecratedas a sacriffcial animal.Did you know that? And the blindnessof the blind and their seekingand groping shall yet bear witnessto the power of the sun, into which they havelooked.Did you know that? And the lover of knowledgeshall learn to build with mountains.It meirnslittle that the spirit movesmountains. Did you know that? You know only the sparkof the spirit, but you do not seethe anvil it is, nor the cruelty of its hammer. Verily, you do not know the pride of the spirit! But even lesswould you endurethe modestyof the spirit, if ever.it would speak. And you have neveryet been ableto castyour spirit
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 217 not for that a pit of snow: you are hot enough into Hence you also do not know the ecstasiesof its coldness. In all things,however,you act too familiarly with the spirit and you have often made wisdom into a poorhouseand a hospitalfor bad poets. You are no eagles:henceyou haveneverexperienced tle happinessthat is in the terror of the spirit. And he who is not a bird shouldnot build his nestover abysses. You arelukewarmto me, but all profoundknowledge fows cold. Ice cold are the inmost wells of the spirit: refreshingfor hot handsand men of action.You stand tlere honorableand still and with straight backs,,you famouswise men: no strongwind and will drivesyou. Have you never seena sail go over the sea,roundecl and taut and tremblingwith the violenceof the wind? Like the sail, tremblingwith the violenceof the spirit, my wisdom goesover the sea-my wild lvisdom. But you seryantsof the people, you famous wise men-how could you go with me? Thus spoke Zarathustra. TIIE
NIGHT
SONG
Night has come; now all fountains speak more loudly. And my soul too is a fountain. Night has come; only now all the songs of lovers awaken. And my soul too is the song.of a lover. Something unstilled, unstillable is within me; it wants to be voiced. A craving for love is within me; it speaks the language of love. Light am I; ah, that I were nightl But this is my lonelinessthat I am girt with light. rth, that I were dark and nocturnall How I would suck at the breastsof lightl
2I8
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
And evenyou would I bless,you little sparklingstars and glowwormsup there,and be overjoyedwith your gifts of light. But I live in my own light; I drink back ilto mysglf the fames that break out of me. I do not krrow the happinessof those who receive; and I have often driimed that even stealingmust be more blessedthan receiving.This is my poverty,that my hand neverrests from giving; this is my envy,that I seervaiting eyes-and the lit-up nights of longing. Oh, wretchednessof all givers!dh, darkeningof my sun!Oh, cravingto cravel Oh, ravenoushungerin satiation! . Th.y receive fiom me, but do I touch their souls? llhere-is a cleft betrveengiving and receiving;and the cleft is the lastto be bridged.A hungergrows narrow'est out of my beauty: I shouldlike to hurt thosefor whom I shine;i shouldlike to rob thoseto whom I give; thus do I hunger for malice. To withdraw my hand when the other-handalreadyreachesout to it; to linger like the rvaterfall,which lingersevenwhile it plunges:thus do I hungerfor malice.Suchrevengemy fullnessplots: such spit-ewells up out of my loneliness.IMyhapainess in giving died in gving; my virtue tired of itself in its over{low. The danger of those who always give is -t!"t tlul lose their sinse of shame;and the heart and hand of thosewho alwaysmeteout becomecallousfrom always meting out. My eye no longgrwells over at the shame of thoie who beg; my hand has grown too hard for the trembling of fflJd hands.Where have ihe tearsof my the loneliness eyergon-eand the down of my hea$?--Oh-, oi all-givers! Oh, the taciturnity of all wh-oshine! Many sunsrevolve in the void: to all that is dark thev srreakwith their light-to me they are silent.Oh, this is^the enmity of the light againstrvhat shines:
PART 210 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SEGOND mercilessit movesin its orbit Unjust in its heart against all that shines,cold againstsuns-thus moveseverysun the sunsfly like a storm in their orbits: that is their motion. They follow their inexorablewill: that is theh coldness. Oh, it is only you, you dark ones,you nocturnal ones, who createwarmth out of that which shines.It is only you who drink milk and refreshmentout of the udders of light Alas, ice is all around me, my hand is burned by the icy. Alas, thirst is within me that languishesafter your thirst. Night hascome: alas,that I must be lightl And thirst for the nocturnalt And lonelinessl Night has comer now my craving brealcsout of me $ke a well; to speakI crave. Night has come;nolv all fountainsspeakmoreloudly. And my soul too is a fountain. Night has come;now all the songsof loversawake'n. And my soul too is the songof a lover. thus sangZarathustra. THE
DANCING
SONC
One evening Zarathustra walked through a forest with his disciples;and as he soughta well, behold,he oame upon a green meadow, silently sunounded by trees and shrubs,and upon it girls were dancing with each other. As soonas the girls recognizedZarathustra they ceased dancing. But Zarathustra walked up to them with a friendly gestureand spokethesewords: "Do not ceasedancing, you lovely girlsl No killjoy has cometo you with evil eyes,no enemyof girls, God's advocate am I before the devil: but the devil is the spirit of gravity. How could I, you lighdooted ones,be
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
an enemy of godUke dances?Or of girH feet with pretty ankles? olndeed, I am a forest and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darknesswill also ffnd rose And he will also ffnd the slopesunder my cypresses. little god whom girls like best: besidethe well he lies, still, with his eyes shut. Verily, in bright daylight he fell asleep,the sluggard! Diil he chaseafter butterflies too much? Do not be angry with me, you beautiful dancers,if I chastisethe little god a bit. He may cry and weep-but he is laughable even when he weeps. And with tearsin his eyeshe shallaskyou for a dance, and I myself will sing a song for his dance; a dancing and mockingsongon the spirit of gravity, my supremeand mostpowerfuldevil, of whom they saythat 'the masterof the world.'' he is And this is the song that Zarathustra sang while Cupid and the girls dancedtogether: Into your eyes f looked recently, O lifel And into the unfathomable I then seemedto be sinking. But you pulled me out with a golden fishing rod; and you laughed mockingly when I called you unfathomable. "Thus runs the speechof all ffsh," you said; "what theg do not fathom is unfathomable.But I am merely changeableand wild and a womanin every way, and not virtuous-even if you men call me profound, faithful, eternal,and mysterious.But you men alwayspresent us with your own virfues, O you virtuous menl" Thus she laughed,the incredible one; but I never believe her and her laughter when she speaksill of herself. And when I talked in conffdencewith my wild wisdom shesaid to me in anger,"You will, you want, you love-that is the only reasonwhy you ptaiseliie," Thet
PART 221 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND I almost answeredwickedly and told the angry woman the truth; and there is no more wicked answer than telling one's wisdom the truth. For thus mattersstanclamongthe three of us: Deeply I love only Ufe-anil verily, most of all when I hate Me. But that I am well disposedtowardwisdom,and often too well, that is becauseshe remindsme so much of life. She has her eyes,her laugh, and even her little golden ffshing rod: is it my fault that the two look so similar? *Who is this wisdomP And when life onceaskedme, 'Oh yes, rvisdomt One thirsts I answeredferventln after her and is never satisffed;one looks through veils, one grabsthrough nets. Is she beautiful?How shoulil I know?But eventhe oldestcarpsare baited with her. Sheis changeableand stubborn;often I have seenhm bite her lip and comb her hair against the grain. Perhaps she is evil and false and a female in every way; but just when she speals ill of herself she is most seductive." When I said this to life she laughedsarcasticallyand closed her eyes. "Of whom are you speaking?"she asked;"no doubt, of me. And even if you are right -should tlut be said to my face? But now speak of your wisdom too." Ah, and then you openedyour eyesagain,O beloved life. And again I seemedto myself to be sinking into the unfathomable. Thus sangZarathustra.But when the dancewas over and the girls had goneaway,he grew sad. 'rThe sun has set long ago," he said at last; *the meadowis moist,a chill comesfrom the woods.Something unknown is around me and looks thoughtful. What? Are you still alive,Zarathustra?
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE ?,22 'Why? What for? By what? Whither? Where?How? Is it not folly still to be alive? 'Alas, my friends, it is the evening that asks thus Evening hascome; tlrough me. Forgive me my sadness. forgive me that evening has come.o Thus spokeZarathustra. THE
TOMB
SONG
"There is the isle of tombs, the silent isle; there too are the tombs of my youth. There I wish to carry an cvergreenwreath of life." Resolvingthis in my heart I crossedthe sea. O you visionsand apparitionsof my youthl O all you glances of love, you divine momentsl How quickly you died. Today I recall you like dead friends. From yoq my dearestfriends amongthe deacl,a sweetscent cgmesto me, looseningheart and tears.Verily, it perttrbs and loosensthe heart of the lonely seafarer.I am still the richest and most enviable-I, the loneliesttFor me: say,to you, and you still possess once I possessed whom fell, as to me, zuch rose applesfrom the bough? I am still the heir of your love and its soil, florvering in remembranceof you with motley wild virtues, O you most loved ones. Alas, we were fashioned to remain close to each other, you fair and strangewonders; and you came to me and my craving,not like shy birds,but like trusting ones to him who tusts. Indeed, fashionedfot loyalty, like myself, and for tender eternities-I must now call you after your disloyalty, you divine glancesand moments: I have not yet learnedany other name.Verily, you have died too soonfor me, you fugitives.Yet you did not fee from me, nor did I fee from you: we are equally innocent in our disloyalty.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 223 To kill me, they strangled you, songbirdsof my hopes.Indeed, after you, my dearestfriends, malice has ever shot its arrows-to hit mg heart. And it hitl For you have alwaysbeenclosestto my heart, my possessionand what possessed me: that is why you had to die young and all-too-eaiy, The arrow was shot at my most wlnerable possession-atyou, whoseskin is like down and even more like a smile that dies of a glance. But this word I want to speakto my enemies:What is all murder of humanbeingscomparedto that which you have done to me?What you have done to me is more evil than any murder of human beings; you have taken from me the irretrievable:thus I speakto you, my enemies.For you murderedthe visionsand dearest wondersof my youth. My playmatesyou took from me, the blessedspirits. In their memory I lay down this wreath and this curse.This curseagainstyou, my enemies!For you havecut shortmy eternalbliss,as a tone that breaksofi in a cold night. Scarcelyas the gleamof divine eyesit cameto m*passing swiftly as a glance. Thus spokemy purrty oncein a fair hour: 'All beings shall be divine to me.' Then you assaultedme with ftlthy ghosts;alas,wherehas this fair hour fled now? "All days shall be holy to ms'-*1us said the wisdom of my youth once;verily, it wasthe sayingof a gay wisdom. But then you, my enemies,stolemy nights from me and sold them into sleeplessagony; alas,where has this gay wisdomfled now? OnceI cravedh"ppy omensfrom the birds; then you led a monsterof an owl acrossmy way, a revoltingone. Alas,wheredid my tenderdesirefleethen? All nauseaI once vowed to renounce:then yor changed those near and nearestme into pubid boils. Alas, where did my noblestvow fee then?
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
I once walked as a blind man along blessedpaths; then you threw fflth in the path of the btnd man, and now his old footpath nauseateshim. And when I did what was hardestfor me and celethen you made brated the triumph of my overcomings, those who loved me screamthat I was hurting them most Verily, this was alwaysyour practice: you galled my best honey and the industry of my best bees.To my charity you always dispatchedthe most impudent beggars; aroundmy pity you alwayspushedthe incurably shameless. Thus you wounded my virtue in its faith. And wheneverI laid down for a sacriffceeven what 'piety' immediatelyplacedits was holiestto me, your fatter gifts alongside,and in the fumes of your fat what was holiestto me suffocated. And once I wanted to danceas I had never danced before: over all the heavensI wanted to dance.Then you persuadedmy dearestsinger.And he struck up a horrible dismaltune; alas,he tooted in my earslike a gloomy horn. Murderous singer, tool of malice, utost innocent yourself! I stood ready for the best dance, when you murderedmy ecstasywith your sounds.Only in the dance do I know how to tell the parable of the highest things: and now my highestparableremained unspokenin my limbs. My highesthope remainedunspokenand unredeemed.And all the visionsand consolationsof my youth &edl How did I endureit? How did I get over and overcomesuch wounds?How did my soul rise again out of such tombsP fndeed, in me there is somethinginvulnerableand unburiable,somethingthat explodesrock: that is rng urill. Silent and unchangedit stridesthrough the yean. It would walk its way on my feet, my old will, and its mind is hard of heart and invulnerable.
IHUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: PART 295 SECOND Invulnerableam I only in the heel. You are still alive and your old self, most patient one. You have still broken out of every tomb. What in my youth was unredeemedlives on in you; and as life and youth you sit there, full of hope, on yellow ruins of tombs. Indeed, for me, you are still the shatterer of all tombs.Hail to thee, my willl And only where there are tombs are there resurrections. Thus sangZarathustra. ON SELF.OVERCOMING
'\Mill
to truth," you who are wisest call that which impelsyou and fflls you with lustP A will to the thinkability of all beings: this f cal your wi!I. You want to make all being thinkable, for y-ou_d9gbt with wgll-jounded suspicionthat it is already thinkable. But it shall yield and bend for you. Thus your will wants it. It shall become smooth and servs the sp5t as its, minor and reflection. That is your whole will,-yog wh9 are_wisest: a will to power-when you speakof good and evil too, and of valuauons.you idll want to create the world before which vou can kneel: that is your ultimate hope and intoxicati,on. The unwise, of course, the peopl*they are like a river on which a bark drifts; and in the bark sit the valuations,solemnand muffiedup. Your will and your vallations you have placed on the rtver of becoming; and what the people believe to be good and evil, thit behays to me an ancient will to power. - It_wa-syoq who are wisestwho placed such guestsin th\ bark a1d gave them pomp and proud names-you 3"q ryq dominant will. Wow the river carries your bark farther; it has to carry it. It availsnothing thai the broken wave foams and angrily opposesthe keel. Not
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 226 tte river is your dangerand the end of your good and evil, you who are wisest,but that will itself, the will to power-the unexhaustedprocreativewill of life. But to make you understandmy word concerning good and evil, I shall now say to you my word concerning life and the nature of all the living. I pursuedthe living; I walked the widest and the narrowestpaths that I might know its nature. With a hundredfold mirror I still caught its glance when its mouth was closed,so that its eyesmight speakto me. And its eyesspoketo me. But whereverI found the living, there I heard also the speechon obedience.Whatever lives, obeys. And this is the secondpoint: he v'ho cannot obey himselfis commanded.That is the natureof the living. This, however,is the third point that l heard: that commandingis harder than obeying;and not only Q1 causehe who com*attds must carry the burden of all who obey, and becausethis burden may easily crush him. An experimentand hazardappearedto me to be in all commanding;and wheneverthe living csmmands, it hazardsitself. Indeed,evenwhen it commandsifseff, it must still pay for its commanding.It must become the judge, the avenger,and the victim of its own law. How doesthis happen?I askedmyself.What persuades the living to obey and command,and to practice obedience even when it commands? Hear, then, my word, you who are wisest.Test in all whether I have crawled into the very heart senousness of life and into the very roots of its heart. Where I found the living, there I found will to power; and even in the will of thosewho serveI found the will to be master. That the weaker should serve the stronger,to that it is persuadedby its own will, which would be master
THUSSPOKEZ.ARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 227 overwhat is weakerstill: this is the onepleasureit does not want to renounce.And as the smalleryields to the greaterthat it may have pleasureand power over the smallest,thus even the greateststill yields, and for the sakeof power riskslife. That is the lelding of the greatest:it is hazardand dangerand castingdice for death. And where men make sacriffcesand serve and cast amorousglances,there too is the will to be master. Along stealthypaths the weakerstealsinto the castle and into the very heart of the more powerful-and there stealspower. And life itself conffdedthis secretto me: 'Behold,' it said, 'I am tlut uhich must aluays ooercomeitself. Indeed, you call it a will to procreateor a drive to an end, to somethinghigher, farther, more manifold: but all this is one, and one secret. ?ather would I perishthan forswearthis; and veriln where there is perishingand a falling of leaves,behold, there life sacriffcesitself-for power. That I must be struggle and a becomingand an end and an opposition to ends-alas, whoever guesseswhat is my will should also guesson what uooked paths it must proceed. 'Whatever f create and however much f love itsoonI must opposeit and my love; thusmy will wills it. And you too, lover of knowledge,are only a path and footprint of my wi[ veriln my will to power walks also on the heels of your will to truth. 'Indeed, the truth was not hit by him who shot at it with the word of the will to existencd: that will does not exist. For, what does not exist cannot will; but what is in existence,how could that still want existence?Only where there is Me is there also will: not will to life but-thus I teach yorrwill to power. *There is much that life esteemsmore highly than
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life itself; but out of the esteemingitself speala the will to power.Thus life once taught me; and with this I shall yet solve the riddle of your heart, you who are wisest. Verily, I say unto you: good and evil that are not transitory, do not exist. Driven on by themselves,they urust overcome themselvesagain and again. With your values and words of good and evil you do violence when you value; and this is your hidden love and the splendor and. trembling and overflowing of your soul. But a more violent force and a new overcoming grow out of your values and break egg and eggshell. And whoever must be a creator in good and evil, verily, he must first be an annihilator and break values. Thus the highest evil belongs to the highest goodness: but this is creative. Let us speak of this, you who are wisest, even if it be bad. Silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous. And may everything be broken that cannot brook our truths! There are yet many housesto be builtl Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON THOSE WHO
ANE SUBLIME
Still is the bottom of my sea: who would guess that it harbors sportive monsters? Imperturbable is my depth, but it sparkleswith swimming riddles and laughters. One who was sublime f saw today, one who was solemn, an ascetic of the spirit; oh, how my soul laughed at his uglinesst With a swelled chest and like one who holds in his breath, he stood there, the sublime one, silent, decked out with ugly truths, the spoil of his
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 2Zg hunting, and rich in torn garments;many thoms too adornedhinr-yet I sawno rose. _ As yet he has not leamed laughter or beauty. Gloomy trhishunter returned from the woods of knowledge.He camehomefrom a ffght with savagebeasts;but out of his seriousness there alsopeersa savagebeast-=.onenot overcome.He still standsthere like a tiger who wants to leap; but I- do noj like these tense souls, and my taste doesnot favor all thesewho withdraw. ^And you,tell me, friends, that there is no disputing of taste and tasting? But all of life is a dispute ovei taste and tasting. Taste-that is at the same time weight and scalesand weigher; and woe unto all the living that would live without disputesover weight and scalesand weigherst If he grew tired of his sublimity, this sublime one, only then would his beauty commence;and only then will I taste him and find him tasteful. And only when he turns away from himself, will he iump over his shadow-and verily, into his sun. All-tooJonghas he been sitting in the shadow,and the cheela of this ascetic of the spirit have grown pale; he almoststarvedto death on his expectations. Contemptis still in his eyes, and nauseahidesaroundhis mouth. Thoughhe is resting now, his rest has not yet lain in the sun.He should act like a bull, and his happinessshould smell of the earth,and not of contemptfor the earth.I would like to seehim as a white bull, walking beforethe plowshare, snorting and bellowing; and his bellowing should be in praise of everything earthly. His face is still dark; the shadowof the hand play,s upon him. His senseof sight is still in shadows.Fiis deed itself still lies on him as a shadow:the hand still darkensthe doer.As yet he has not overcomehis deed.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 230 Though I love the bull's neck on him, I also want to seethe eyesof the angel. He must still discard his heroic will; he shall be elevated,not merely sublime: the ether itself shouldelevatehlm, the willless one. he solvedriddles:but he must He subduedmonsters, still redeemhis own monstersand riddles, changing them into heavenlychildren.As yet his knowledgehas not learnedto smileand to be without jealousy;as yet his torrentialpassionha.snot becomestill in beauty. Verrly, it is not in satiety that his desire shall grow silent and be submerged,but in beauty. Gracefulness of the great-souled. is part of the graciousness His arm placed over his head: thus shouldthe hero rest; thus should he overcomeeven his rest. But just for the herothe beautifulis the mostdiftcult thing. No violent will can attaindre beautifulby exertion.A little more,a little less: preciselythis countsfor much here, this mattersmosthere. wil[: To standwith relaxedmusclesand unharnessed that is most dificult for all of you who are sublime. When power becomesgraeious and descendsinto the visible-such descentI call beauty. And there is nobody from whom I want beauty as much as from you who are powerful: let your kindness be your ffnal self-conquest. Of all evil I deemyou capable: thereforeI want the good from you. Verily, I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselvesgood becausethey had no claws. You shall strive after the virtue of the column: it grows more and more beautiful and gentle,but internally harder and more enduring,as it ascends. Indeed,you that are sublimeshall yet becomebeautiful one day and hold up a mirror to your own beau$r.
PART 231 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND Then your soul will shudderwith godlike desires,and there will be adorationevenin your vanity. For this is the soul'ssecretronly when the hero has abandonedher, she is approachedin a dream by the overhero. Thus spokeZarathustra. ON TIIE
LAND
OT EDUCATION
I flerv too far into the fuhrre: dread overcameme. and when I looked around, behold, time was my sole contemporary.Then I flew back toward home, faster and faster; and thus I cameto you, O men of todan and into the land of education. For the ftrst time I really had eyesfor you, and a genuinedesire;verily, it was with longing in my heart that I came. But wbat happenedto me?For all my anxietyI hacl to laugh. Never had my eyesbeheldanythingso dappled and motley. I laughed and laughedwhile my foot was still trembling, and my heart no less. 'This is clearlythe homeof all paint pots,"I said. lvith fffty blotchespainted on your faces and limbs you were sitting there, and I was amazed,you men of today. And with fffty mirrors around you to flatter and echoyour color displaylVerily, you could wear no better masks,you men of today, than your own faceslWho could possiblyfind you out? With the charactersof the past written all over you, and these charactersin turn painted over with new characters:thus have you concealedyourselvesperfectly from all interprcters of characters.And even if one could by the reins, who would be fool enoughto believe that you have reins? You seem baked out of colors and pastednotes.Motley, all agesand peoples
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 232 peek out of your veils; motley, all customs and faiths
speak eak out of your gestues. r If one took the veils and wraps and colors and gesturesaway from you, just enoughwould be left to am the the scared scared away the Verily, I myself myself am scare scare away the crows. crows. Verily, crow who once saw you naked ancl without color; and I flew away when the skeleton beckoned to me lovingly. Rather would I be a day laborer in Hades among the shades of the past! Even the underworldly are plumper and fuller than you. This, indeed this, is bitterness for my bowels, that I can endure you neither naked nor clothed, you men of todav. All that is uncannv in the future and all that has ever made fugitive birds shuclder is surely more comfortable and.cory than your "reality." For thus you speak: "Real are we entirely, and without belief or superstition." Thus you stick out your chests-but alas, they are hoilowl Indeed, horv should you be capable of any belief, being so dappled and motley-you who are paintings of all that men have ever believed? You are rvalking refutations of all belief, and you break the limbs of all thought. Unbelievable: thus I call you, for all your pride in being reall All ages prate against each other in your spirits; and the dreams and pratings of all ages were yet more real than your waking. You are sterile: that is why you lack faith. But whoever had to create also had his prophetic dreams and astral signs-and had faith in faith-. You are half-open gates at which the gravediggers wait. And 'Everything deservesto perish." this is your reality: How you stand there, you who are sterile, how thin around the ribsl And scjmeamong you probably realized '?robably some god secretly took somethis and said, from slept. me while I Veriln enough to make thing
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECONDPART 238 himself a little femalet Strange is the poverty of my ribs." Thus have some men of today already spoken. Indeed, you make me laugh, you men of today, and. particularly when you are amazed at yourselves.And I should be in a sorry plight if I could not laugh at your amazement and had to drink down everything disgrrsting out of your bowls. But I shall take you more lightln for I have a heavy burden; and wlrat does it matter to me if bugs and winged worms still light on my bundle? Verily, that will not make it heavier. And not from you, you men of- today, shall the great weariness come over me. Alas, where shall I climb now with my longing? From all mountains I look out for fatherlands and motherIands. But home I found nowhere; a fugitive am I in all cities and a departure at all gates. Strange and a mockery to me are the men of todrry to whom my heart recently drew me; and I am driven out of fatherlands and motlrerlands. Thus I now love only my clrildreis Iand, yet undiscovered, in the farthest sea: for this I bid my sails search and search. In my children I want to make up for being the child of my fathers-and to all the future, for this today. Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON ITTI\IACULATE
PERCEPTION
When the moon rose yesterday I fancied that she wanted to give birth to a sun: so broad and pregnant she lay on the horizon. But she lied to me with her pregnancy; and I should sooner believe in the man in &e moon than in the woman. Indeed, he is not much of a man either, this sby nocturnal enthusiast. Verily, with a bad consciencehe
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 234 passesover the roofs. For he is lecherousand iealous, the monk in the moon,Iecherousafter the earth and all the joys of lovers. No, I do not like him, this tomcat on the roofst I loatheall that crawl abouthalf-closedwindowslPiously and silentlyhe passesover carpetsof stars;but I do not like softly treading men's feet, on which no spur jingles. The step of everythinghonestspeaks;but the cat stealsover the ground.Behold,like a cat the moon comesalong,dishonestly. This parableI offer you, sentimentalhypocrites,you who are "pure perceivers."f cail you-lechers. You too love the earth and the earthly: I have seen through you; but there is shamein your love and bad conscience-youare like the moon.Your spirit hasbeen persuadedto despisethe earthly;but your entrailshave not been persuaded,and they are what is strongestin you. And nolv your spirit is ashamedat havinggiven in to your entrails,and, to hide from its shame,it sneaks on furtive and lying paths. "This would be the highest to my mind"-thus says your lying spirit to itself-"to look at life without desire and not, like a dog,with my tonguehangingout. To be huppy in looking,with a will that hasdied and without the whole body the graspingand greed of selffshness, cold and ashen,but with drunken moon eyes.This I should like best"-thus the seducedseduceshimself"to love the earth as the moon loves her, and to touch her beautyonly with my eyes.And this is what the immaculateperceptionof all thingsshallmeanto me: that I rvant nothing from them, exceptto be allowedto lie prostrate before them like a mirror rvith a hundred eyes." O you sentimentalhypocrites,you lechers!You lack innocencein your desire and therefore votr slander all
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 295 %4y, it is not as creators, procreators, and {esire. thosewho haveioy in becomingthat you love the earth. Where is innocrnce?\4&ere there is a will to procreata And he who wants to create beyond himseff has the purest will. -Whereis beauty?Where I must wi[ with all my will; where I want to love and perish that an imagemay not remain a mere image.Loving and perishing:that has rhymed for eternitiEs.fte riitt to iove, thit is to be willing alsoto die. Thus I speakto youcowardst But now your emasculatedleers wish to be called ocontemplation." And that which permits itself to be touchedby cowardlyglancesyou would baptize "beautiful." How you soil noblenamest But this shall be your curse,you who are immaculate, you pqre perceivers,that you shall never $ve birth, even if you lie broad and pregnant on th; horizon. Verily, you ffll your mouth with noble words; and are we to believe that your heart is overflowing,you liarsP Byt rny words are small, despised,crooked words: glaa-lf I pick up_what falls under the table at your meals. I can still use it to tell hypocritesthe truth. Ind_eed,_my_ffshbones, clamshells,ind thorny leaves shall tickle the nosesof hypocrites.Bad air alwayssurroundsyou and your meals:foryour lecherousthoughts, y_our_liesand secrets,are in tire air. Would that-you dargd -19-believe_yourselves-yourselvesand your entrails. Whoever doesnot believe himself always lies. Behind a godt mask you hide from yourielves,in your'purifi; your revoltingworm has crawledjnto a god'smask.Verily, you deceivewith your'contemplation." Zarathustratoo was oncefooled by your godiike skins and did not realize that they were itufiei w'ith snakes'coils.I oncefanciedthat I saw a godt soul at play in your plaS you pure perceivers.NJbetter art I
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCTIE 236 oncefanciedthan your arts.Snakes'fflthand bad odors were concealedfrom me by the distance,and that the cunning of a lizard was crawling around lecherously. But I camecloseto you, and the day dawnedon me, and now it dawnson you too; the moon'slove hascome to an end.Look there!Caughtand palehe standsthere, confronted by the dawn. For already she approaches, glowing; her love for the earth approaches.All solar love is innocenceand creativelonging. Look there: how she approachesimpatiently over tlre sea. Do you not feel the thirst and the hot breath of her love?Shewould suckat the seaand drink its depth into her heights;and the sea'sdesirerisestoward her with a thousandbreasts.It wants tor b e kissed and sucked by the thirst of the sun; it wants to become air and height and a footpath of light, and itself light. Verily, like the sun I love life and all deep seas. And this is what perceptive knowledge means to me: all that is deep shall rise up to my heights. Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON SCHOLANS
As I lay asleep,a sheepate of the ivy wreath on my brow-ate and said,'Zarathush'a is no longera scholar." Saidit and struttedawayproudly.A child told it to me. I like to lie here where the childrenplay, besidethe broken wall, amongthistlesand red poppies.I am still a scholarto the children,and alsoto the thistlesand red poppies.They are innocentevenin their malice.But to the sheepI am no longera scholar;thus my lot.decrees it-bless itl For this is the truth: I havemovedfrom the houseof the scholarsand I evenbangedthe door behind me. My
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 237 soul sat hungry at their table too long; I am not, like them, trained to pursue knowledge as if it were nutcracking. I love freedom and the air over the fresh earth; rather would I sleep on ox hides than on their decorumsand respectabilities. f am too hot and burned by -y own thoughts; often it nearly takesmy breath away. Then I must go out into the open and away from all dusty rooms. But they sit cool in the cool shade: in everything they want to be mere spectators,and they beware of sitting where the zun bums on the steps.Like thosewho stand in the street and gape at the people who pass by, they too wait and gape at thoughts that othershave thought ff you seizethem with your handsthey raise a cloud of dust like flour bags, involuntarily; but who could guessthat their dust comesfrom grain and from tle yellow delight of summer ffeldsPWhen they pose as wise, their little epigrams and truths chill me: their wisdom often has an odor as if it came from the swamps;and verily, I have alsoheard frogs croak out of it. They are skillful and havecleverffngers:why would my simplicity want to be near their multiplicity? All th,readingand knottingand weavingtheir ffngersunderstand: thus they knit the socksof the spirit. They are good clockworks; but take care to wind them correctlyl Then they indicate the hour without fail and make a modest noise. They work like mills and like stamps: throw down your ieed-corn to them and they will know how to grind it small and reduce it to white dust. They watch each other closely and mistrustfully. Inventive in petty clevemess,they wait for those ,irhor" walks on lamefeet: like spidersthey wait.I _knowledge have always seenthem carefully preparing poiion; and
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
they always put on glovesof glassto do it. They also know how to play with loaded dice; and I have seen them play so eagerlythat they sweated. We are alien to eachother, and their virtues are even more distastefulto me than their falsenessand their loadeddice. And when I lived with them, I lived above them.That is why they developeda grudgeagainstme. They did not want to hear how someonewas living over their heads;and so they put wood and earth and fflth betweenme anil their heads.Thus they muffied the soundof my steps:and so far I have beenheard least well by the most scholarly.Betweenthemselvesand me they laid all human faults and weaknesses:"false ceilings" they call them in their houses.And yet llive owr their headswith my thoughts; and even if I wanted to walk upon my own mistakes,I would still be over their heads. For men ^te nat equal: thus speaksjusticc. And what I waut, they would have no right to wantl thus spokeZarathustra. ON POETS
"Since I have cometo know the body better," Zara"the spirit is to me thusba said to one of his disciples, 'permanent'is also a is only quasi-spirit; and all that mere parable." '1 have heard you say that oncebefore,' the disciple 'and at that time you added, 'But the poetslie replied; toi much.' Why did you say that the poets lie too much?" 'WhyP said Zarathustra.*You ask, why? I am not one of ihose whom one may askabout their why' Is my experiencebut of yesterday?It was long ago that I
ZARATHUSTRA: THUSSPOKE SECOND PART 239 experiencedthe reasonsfor my opinions.Would I not have to be a banel of memoryif I wantedto carry my reasonsaroundwith me? It is alreadytoo much for me to remembermy own opinions;and many a bird ftes away. And now and then I alsoffnd a stray in my dove. eot tlrat is strangeto me and hembleswhen I placemy hand on it. But what wasit that Zarathustraoncesaidto you? That the poetslie too much?But Zarathustratoo is a poet. Do you now believethat he spokethe truth here?lVhy do you believethat?" The disciple answered,'I believe in Zarathustra.' But Zarathustrashookhis headand smiled. 'Faith does make not me blessed,"he said,'especially not faith in me. But supposesomebodysaid in all seriousness, the poetslie too muchr he would be right; rp do lie too much. We also know too little and we are bad learners;so we simplyhave to lie. And who among us hasnot adulteratedhis wine?Many a poisonous dge has been contrived in our cellars;much was accomplishedthere. And be causewe know so little, the poor in spirit pleaseus heartily, particularly when they are young females.And we are covetouseven of those things which the old femalestell eachother in the evening.That is wha! we ourselvescall the Eternal-Feminine in us. And, as if there were a specialsecretaccessto knowledge,burted for thosewho leam something,we believein the people and their'wisdom.' *This, however, all poets believe: that whoever pricks up his ears as he lies in the grassor on lonel)' slopeswill ffnd out somethingabout thosethings that are betweenheaven and earth. And when thev feel tender sentimentsstiring, the poetsalwaysfancy that nature herseUis in love with them; and that she is
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
qeeping to their ears to tell them secretsand amorous flatteries; and of this they brag and boast before all mortals. 'Alas, there are so many things betweenheavenand earth of which only the poets have dreamed. 'And especially abooe the heavens:for all gods are poets' parables,poets'prevarications.Verily, it always lifts us higher-speciffcally, to the realm of the clouds: upon thesewe placeour motleybastardsand call them gods and ovennen. For they are just light enough for these chairs-all these gods and ovennen. Ah, how weary I am of all the imperfection which must at all costsbeeomeeventl Ah, how weary I am of poetst" When Zarathustraspokethus, his disciplewas angqf with him, but he remain'edsilent. And Zarathusbatoo remainedsilent;and his eyehad tumed inward as if he were gazing into vast distances.At last he sighed and drew a deep breattr" 'I am of today and before,'he said then, 'but there is somethingin me that is of tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and.time to come.I have grown weary of the poets,the old and the new: superffcialthey all seemto me, and shallow seas Their thoughts have not penetrated deeply enough; therefore their feelings did not touch bottom. osomelust and someboredom:that has so far been their best reflection. All their harp jingling is to me the breathing and flitting of ghosts; what have they ever known of tfie fervor of tones? 'Nor are'they clean enoughfor me: they all muddy tleir waters to make them appear deep. And they like to pose as reconcilers: but mediators and mixers they remain for me, and half-and-half and unclean. 'Alas, I cast my net into their seasand wanted to catch good ffsh; but I always pulled up the head of
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 941 someold god. Thus the seagavehim who was hungry a stone. And they themselvesmay well have come from the sea.Certainly,pearls are found in them: they are &at much more similar to hard shellffsh.And instead of a soul I often found saltedslimein them. oFrom the seathey learnedevenits vanity: is not the sea the peacockof peacocla?Even before the ugliest bufialo it still spreadsout its tail, and never weariesof its lace fan of silver and silk. Su\, the bufialo stares back, close to the sand in his soul, closerstill to the thicket, closestof all to the swamp,What are beauty a1d sea and peacocksffnery to him? This parable I offer the poets.Verily, their spirit itself is the piacockof peacocksand a sea of vanity! The spirit of the poet craves spectators-even if only buffaloes. "But I have grown weary of this spirit; and I foresee that it will grow wedryof itself. I havealreadyseenthe poetschanged,with their glancesturnedback on themselves-.I saw asceticsof the spirit approach;they grew out of the poets." Thus spokeZarathustra. ON
GREAT
EVENTS
There is an island in the sea-not far ftom Zarathustrat blessedisles-on which a ffre-spewingmountain smokescontinually;and the peopletay of it, and especiallythe old women amongthe peopie san that it has been placed like a huge rock before the gate to tfre underworld,and that the-narrowpath that lJadsto this gate to the underworld goesthrough the ffre-spewing mountain" Now it was during the time when Zarathustrawas :?yilg oq thg blessedisles that a ship anchoredat the island with the smoking mountain aid the crew went
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE ashore to shoot rabbits, Around noon, however' when the captain and his men were together again, they suddenly saw a man approach through the air, and a voice 'It is time! It is high time!" And when said distinctly, the shape had come closest to them-and it few by swiftly as a shadow in the direction of the ffre-sperving realized with a gt'eat sense of shock mountain-they that it was Zarathustra; for all of them had seen him before, except the captain, and they loved him as the people love-with a love that is mixed with an equal *Look there!" said the old helmsman. amount of awe. 'There is Zarathustra descending to hell!' At the time these seamen landed at the isle of ftre there was a mmor abroad that Zarathustra had disappeared; and when his friends rvere asked, they said that he had embarked by night without saying rvhere he intended to go. Thus uneasinessarose; and after three days the story of the seamen was added to this uneasiness;and norv all the people said that the devil had taken Zarathustra. His disciples laughed at such talk to be sure, and one of them even said, "Sooner would I believe that Zarathustra has taken the devil." But deep in their souls they were all of them full of rvorry and longing; thus their joy was great when on the fffth day Zarathustra appeared among them. And this is the story of Zarathustra's conversation with the ffre houndr 'has 'The a skin, and this skin has earth,' he said, diseases.One of these diseases,for example, is called 'ffre 'man.' And another one of ttrese diseasesis cdled hound': about lrinr men have told each other, and believed, many lies. To get to the bottom of this nrvstery I went over the sea,1nd I have seen truth nakedverily, barefoot up to the throat. Now I am informed concerning the 6re hound, and also concerning all sctrm'
242
PART 248 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND and overthrow devils, of whom not only old women are afraid. ''Out with you, ffre hound!Out from your depth!' I cried. And confesshow deep this depth isl Whence comeswhat you are snortingup here?You drink copiously from the sea: your salty eloquenceshowsthat. Indeed,for a houndof the depthyou takeyour nourishment too much from the surface.At most, I take you for the earth'sventriloquist;and wheneverI have heard overthrow-and scum-devilstalking, I found them like you: saltv, mendacious, and superffcial.You know how to bellow and to darkenwith ashes.You are the best braggarts and great expertsin the art of making mud seethe.Whereveryou are,mud must alwaysbe nearby, and much that is spongy,cavemout,compressed-and wants freedom.Freedomis rvhat all of you like best 'great to bellow; but I have outgrown the belief in events" wherever there is much bellowing and smoke. ''Believe me, friend Hellishnoise:the greatestevents -th"y are not our loudestbut our stillest hours.Not around the inventors of new noise, but around the inventors of new values does the world revolve; it revolveslnaudiblg. " Admit itl Wheneveryour noise and smokewere gone,very little had happened.What doesit matter if a town becamea murnmyand a statuelies in the mud? And this word I shall add for those who overthrow statues:nothingis morefoolishthan castingsalt into the seaand statuesinto the mud. The statuelay in the mud of your contempt;but preciselythis is its law, that out of contemptlife and living beautycomeback to it. It rises again with more godlike features, seductive through sufiering; and verily, it will yet thank you for havingoverthrownit, O you overthrowers. This counsel, however, I give to kings and churchesand everything
THE PORTABLENTETZSCHE that is weak with age and weak in virtue: let yourselves be overthrown-so that you may rehlrn to life, and virtue return to you.' 'Thus f spoke before the ffre hound; then he inter'Church? What is that?' rupted me crossly and asked, 'That ''Church?' is a kind of state-the I ansrvered. most mendacious kind. But be still, you hypocritieal houndt You know your own kind bestl Like you, the state is a hypocritical hound; Iike you, it likes to talk with smoke and bellowing-to make himself believe, like you, that he is talking out of the belly of reality. For he wants to be by all means the most important beast on earth, the state; and they believe him too.' 'When I had said that, the ffre ho.und carried on as 'thg 'What?' he cried, most important if crazy with envy. beast on earth? And they believe him too?'And so much steam and so many revolting voices came out of his throat that I thought he would suffocatewith anger and envy. 'At last, he grew calmer and his gasping eased; and 'You are angry, as soon as he was calm I said, laughing, fire hound; so I am right about yout And that I may continue to be right, let me tell you about another ffre hound. He really speaks out of the heart of the earth. He exhales gold and golden rain; thus his heart wants it. What are ashes and smoke and hot slime to him? Laughter flutters out of him like colorful clouds; nor is he well disposed toward your gurgling and spewing and intestinal rumblings. This gold, however, and this laughter he takes from the heart of the earth; forknow this-the heart of the earth is of gold.' 'When the ffre hound heard this he could no longer bear listening to me. Shamed, he drew in his tail, in a cowed manner said'bow-wow,'and crawled down into his cave.-
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 2t5 Thus related Zarathustra. But his disciples b*"ly listened,so great was their desireto tell him of the seamen, the rabbits, and the fying man. *What shall I think of that?" said Zarathustra;'am I a ghostthen?But it must have been my shadow.I supposeyou have heard of the wandererand his shadow? This, however,is clear: I must watch it more closelyelseit, may yet spoil my reputation.' And oncemore Zarathustrashookhis head and won'What dered. shall I think of that?' he said oncemore. aia the ghost cry, 'It is timet It is high timet' lMly High time for uhat?" Thus spokeZarathusha. THE
SOOTHSAYER
descenduponmankind. -'-And I sawa greatsadness The b_estgrew weary of their worls. A doctrine appeared,aceompaniedby a fbith: All is empty, all is tle same,all has beent'And from all the hiUs it echoed: i4,ll is empty, all is ttre same,all has beenl' Indeed we have harvested: but why did all our fruit turn rotten and brown? What fell down from the evil moon last night? In vain was all our work; our wine has tumed to poison;an evil eye has searedour fields and hearts.We have all becomedry; and if ffre should descendon us, we should turn to ashes;indeed, we have wearied tlre ffre itself. All our wells have dried up; even the sea has withdrawn. All the soil would crack, but the depth refuses to devour. .Alas, where is there sUll a sef in which one might drownfl thus are we wailing across shallow swamp_s. Verily, we have become too weary even to die. We are still waking and living on-in tombs." Thus Zarathustraheard a soothsayerspeak,and the
THE I'ORTABLENIETTSCHE 246 prophecy touched his heart and changed him. He ivalied aboutsadand weary; and he becamelike those had sPoken. of whom the soothsayer "Verily,' he said to his disciples,"little is lackingand this long twilight will come.Alas,how shall I sav€my light through it? It must not sufiocatein this sadness. For it shallbe a light for distantworlds and evenmore distantnights." Thus grievedin his heart,Zarathushawalkedabout; and for threedayshe took neitherfood nor drink, had no rest, and lost his speech.At last he fell into a deep sleep. But his disciplessat around him in long night watchesand waited with greatconcernfor him to wake and speakagainand recoverfrom his melancholy. And this ii the speechof Zarathustrawhen he awoke; but his voice cameto his disciplesas if from a great distance: "Listen to the dreamwhich I dreamed,my friends, and help me guessits meaning.This dream is still a riddle to me; its meaningis concealedin it and imprisonedand doesnot yet soaraboveit with unfettered wings. *I had turned my back on all life, thus I dreamed.I had becomea night watchmanand a guardianof tombs upon the lonely mountaincastleof death.Up thereI guardedhis coffinsrthe musty vaultswere full of such marksof triumph. Life that had beenovercome,looked at me out of glasscofins. I breathedthe odor of dusty eternities:sultry and dusty lay my soul.And who could have aired his soul there? 'The brightnessof midnight was alwaysabout me; lonelinesscrouchednext to it; and as a third, death-rattle silence,the worst of my friends. I had keys, the rustiest of all keys; and I knew how to use them to open the most creakingof all gates.Like a wickedly
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: TECONDPART 247 angry croaking,the soundran through the long conidors when the gatet wings moved: ffendishlycried this bird, ferociousat being awakened.Yet still more terrible and heart-constricting was the moment when silence returned and it grew quiet about me, and I sat alone in this treacheroussilence. 'Thus time passedand crawled, time if still existedhow should I know? But eventually that happened which awakenedme. Thrice, strokesstruck at the gate like thunder; the vaults echoedand howled thrice; then I went to the gate.'Alpa,'I cried, 'who is carryinghis ashesup the mountain?Alpat Alpal Who is carryinghis ashesup the mountain?' And I pressedthe key and tried to lift the gate and exertedmyself; but still it did not give an inch. Then a roaring wind tore its wings apart; whistling, shrilling, and piercrng, it cast up a black coffin before me. "And amid the roaring and whistling and shrilling the coffin burst and spewed out a thousandfoldlaughter. And from a thousandgrimacesof children, angels,owls, fools, and butterflies as big as children, it laughed and mocked and roared at me. Then I was terribly frightened; it threw me to the ground. And I cried in horror as I have never cried. And my own cry awakenedmeand I cameto my senses.' Thus Zarathustra told his dream and then became silent; for as yet he did not know the inteqpretationof his dream.But the disciplewhom he Ioved most rose quickly, took Zarathustra's hand, and said: "Your life itself interprets this dream for us, O Zarathustra. Are you not yourself the wind with the shrill whistling that tears open the gates of the castlesof death? Are you not yourself the coffin full of colorful sarcasmsand the angelic grimacesof life? Verily, like a thousandfold childrens laughter Zarathustra enters
24.8 THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE all death chambers,laughing at dl tlrc nisht watchmen and guardiansof tombJand at whoeyerElseis rattling with gloomy keys.You will frighten and.prostratetheri witJr ygur laughter; and youi po*", o-uerthem will make them faint and wake them. And even when the long twilight and the wearinessof death come,you will not set in our sky, y-ouadvocateof life. New starsyou have let us see,and new wondersof the night; n"rily, Iaughter itself you have spread over us like'a colorful tent. Henceforthchildren'slaughter wjll well forth from all coffins;hencefortha strohf wind will cometriumphantly to all wearinessof death: of this you yourseE 1." o* gur99 and soothsayer.Verily, this is what gou dreamed of: your enemies.That was your harjest dream.But as you woke from them and cameto your senses,thus they shall awaken from themselvesiand cometo you." Thus spokethe disciple; and all the others crowded around Zarathustra and took hold of his hands and wanted to persuadehim to leavehis bed and his sadness and to return to them. But Zarathustrasat erecton his resting place with a strangelook in his eyes.Like one pg"g home from a long sojournin strangelands,he looked at his disciplesand examinedtheii faces;and as yet he did not recognizethem. But when they lifted him up and put him on his feet, behold,his eyessuddenly- chang"{i hg compreh-endedall that hla nappened,strokedhis beard,and said in a strongvoice: 'Now then, thereis a time for this too. But seeto it, m-ydisciples,that we shallhavea goodmeal,and soon. Thus I pla_n-!o atonefor bad dreams.The soothsayer, however, shall eat and drink by my side; and verily, i shall showhim a seain which lre cin drown.Thus spokeZarathustra.But then he looked a long
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 249 time into the face of the disciple who had played the dream inteqpreterand he shookhis head. ON NEDEMPTION
When Zarathustracrossedover the greatbridge one day the cripples and beggars surroundedhim, and a hunchback spoke to him thus: "Behold, Zarathustra. The peopletoo learn from you and cometo believein your doctrine; but before they will believe you entirely one thing is still needed: you must ffrst persuadeis cripples. Now here you have a ffne selectionand, veriln an opportunity with more than one handle. You can heal the blind and make the lame walk; and from him who has too much behind him you could perhapstake away a little. That, I think, would be the right way to make the cripples believe in Zarathustra.o But Zarathustra replied thus to the man who had spoken: "When one takes away the hump from the hunchback one takes away his spirit-thus teach the people. And when one restoreshis eyes to the blind man he seestoo many wicked things on earth, and he will cursewhoeverhealedhim. But whoevermakesthe lame walk doeshim the greatestharm: for when he can walk his vices run away with him-thus teach the people about cripples. And why should Zarathustranot learn from the people when the people leam from Zarathustra? 'But this is what matters least to me since I have been amongmen: to seethat this one lacks an eye and tlrat one an earand a tlrird a leg, while there are others who havelost their tonguesor their nosesor their heads. I see,and have seen,what is worse,and many things so vile that I do not want to speakof everything; and
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 250 ooncerningsomethings I do not even like to be silent: for there ire human beingswho lack everything,except one thing of which they have too much-human being-s who arJnothing but a big eye or a big mouth or a big belly or anything at all that is big. Inverse cripples I call them. "And when I came out of my solitude and crossed my over this bridge for the ffrst time'I did not lrust 'An last, said at again,-an$ andlooked and looked eyes earl An ear as big as a manl' l lookedstill more closd -and indeed,undemeaththe ear somethingwas movinq, somethingpitifully smalland wretchedand slender' Aid, no doubl of it, ihe tremendousear was attached to a small,thin stalk-but this stalkwasa humanbeingl If oneuseda magnifying glassone could evenrecognize a tiny enviousfa"ce;'ab6,that a bloatedlittle soul was dangitingfrom the stalk. The peoplg, however,told me thaithii great ear was not only a Jrumanbeing, but-a great one] a genius. But I never believed the people ihen they spoke of great men; and I maintained 1I belief thai it was an invetse cripple who had too little of everythingand too much of one thing." When Zarithustra had spokenthus to the hunchback and to those whose mouthpiece and advocate the hunchbackrvas,he turned to-his disciplesin profound *Verily, my dismay and said: !ri9n{s' I- walk ayong men amongthe fragmentsand limbs of men. This is is terrible for mylyes, that I ffnd man in ruins and what"s scattered as over a Latileffeld or a butcher-fielil. And when my eyesflee from the now,t9 the pasl, Fty-lI: wap fini the s"m", fragmentsand limbs and dreadful accidents-but no humanbeings. oThe now and the past on-earth-alas, my friends, that is what I ffnd most unendurable;and I should not kuow how to live if I were not alsoa seerof that which
SECOND THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: PART 251 must come. A seer,a willer, e creator,a fufure himself and a bridge to the future-and alas,also,as it were, a cripple at this bridge: all this is Zarathustra. 'And you too have often asked yourselves,'Vtlho ir Zarathustrato us? What shall be call himP And, like myself, you replied to yourselveswith questions.Is he a promiser?or a fulffller? A conqueror?or an inheritor? An autumn?or a plowshare?A physician?or one who has recovered?Is he a poet? or tnrthful? A liberator? or a tamer?good?or evil? 'I walk among men es among the fragmentsof the , firture-that future which I envisage.And this is all my creating and striving, that I create and carry together into One what is fragment anil riddle and dreadfuI accident And how cuuld I bear to be a man if man were not also a creator and guesserof riddles and. redeemerof accidents? "To redeem those who lived in the past and to re'it create all was' into a 'thus I willed it'-that alono should I call redemption.Will-that is the nameof the liberator and ioy-bringer; thus I taught you, my friends. But now learn this too: &e will itself is still a prisoner. Willing liberates;but what is it that puts eyen the liberator himself in fetters?'It was'-that is the name of the will's gnashingof teeth and most secretmelancholy. Powerlessagainst what has been done, he is an angry spectatorof all that is past. The will cannot will backwards; and that he cannot break time and timel covetousness, that is the will s loneliestmelancholy. 'Willing liberates; what meansdoes the will devise for himself to get rid of his melancholyand to moclc his dungeon?Alas, every prisoner becomesa fool; and the irnprisonedwill redeemshimselffoolishly. That tirno does not run bachpards,that is his wrath; that which was'is the name of the stonehe cannot move. And so
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 2152 he moves stonesout of wrath and displeasure,and he wreaks revenge on whatever does not feel wrath anddispleasureas-hedoes.Thus the will, the liberator, took to lurting; and on all who can sufier he wreaksreYenge for his inability to go backwards. This, indeed this alone, is what reoengeis: the will's ill will againsttime 'it and its was,' 'Verily, a great folly dwells in our will; and it has becomei cutsefor everythinghuman that this folly has acquiredspirit. ofhe splfit o1reoenge,my friends,has-sofar beenthe subiect of man's best refection; and where there was sufiering, one always wanted punishment too. *For ipunishment' is what revengecalls itself; with a hypocritical -'Because lie it createsa good consciencefor itself. there is sufieringin thosewho will' inasmuch as they cannot will backwards,willing itself and all life were supposedto be-a punishment.And' now cloud upon cloud rolled over the spirit, until ev_entullly madneslpreached,Everything Passesaway; therefore everythingdeservesto passaway.And this too is justice' this iaw of ti-" that if must devour its children' Thus preached - ''Thingsmadness. are orderedmorallyaccordingto justiceand Alas, where is redernptionfrom the fux of punishment. -ihings and from the punishmentcalled existencePThus preached - ''Can madness. therebe redemptionif thereis eternaliusticeP Alas,the stoneIt urcscarinotbe moved:all punishments must be eternaltoo.' Thus preachedmadness. ''No deed can be annihilated:how could it be undone by punishment?This, this is what is eternal in the called existence,that e:
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:SECONDPART 258, oome not willing.' But my brothers, you know this fable of madness. 'I led you away from thesefables when f taught you,. Ttre will is a creator.'All it was'is a fragment,a riddle, a dreadful accident-until the creativewill saysto it,'But thus I willed it.' Until the creativewill saysto 'But thus I will it; thus shall I will it.' it, 'But has the will yet spoken thus? And when will that happen?Has the will been unharnessedyet from his own follyP Has the will yet becomehis own redeemerand joy-bringer?Has he unlearnedthe spirit of revengeand all gnashingof teeth?And who taughthim reconciliationwith time and somethinghigher than any reconciliation?For that will which is the will to power must will somethinghigherthan any reconciliation;but how shall this be brought about?Who could teach him also to will backwards?" At this point in his speechit happenedthat Zarathustra suddenlystoppedand lookedaltogetherlike one who has receiveda severeshock.Appalled,he looked at his disciples;his eyespierced their thoughts and the thoughts behind their thoughtsaswith anows. But after a little while he laughedagain and, paciffed,he said: 'It is dificult to live with people becausesilenceis so dificult. Especially for one who is garrulous." Thus spokeZarathustra. The hunchback, however, had listened to this discourse and covered his face the while; but when he' heard 7-anthustra laugh he looked up curiously and said slowly: 'But why doesZarathustraspeakotherwise. to us than to his disciples?" Zarathustraanswered: 'What is surprising in that? With hunchbaalsone may well speakin a hunchbacked way,"
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE *All righq' said the hunchback;'and one may well tell pupili talesout of school.But why doesZarathustra speat 6tt.rwise to his pupils than to himselffl'
zil
ON HUMAN
PNUDENCI
Not the heigbt but the precipice is terrible. That precipicrewherJthe glaneeplungesdnun and the hand giddy confronted ieach^esup. There th-ehearl bec-omes with its doublewlll. Alas,friends, can you guesswhat is heart's double will? my-This, this is my precipice and my danger, that my glanceplungesinto the hefght and that_myhand would graspand hold on to the depth. My will clingsto man; with fetters I bind myself to man becauseI am swept up toward the overman; for that way my other will dants to go. And therefore I live blind amongmen as if I did not lcnowthern, that my hand might not wholly lose its faith in what is ffrm. I do not larow you men: this darknessand consolation are often spread around me. I sit at the gateway, ex' posed to every rogue, and I ask: who wants to deceive ire? that is itre d'rst instanceof my human prudencc, that I let myselfbe deceivedin order not to be on guard againstdecpivers.Alas, if I were on guard againstmen, h6w could man then be an anchorfor my ball? I should be swept up and away too easily. This providencelies over my destinn that I must be without cauHon. And whoever does not want to die of thirst among men must learn to drink out of all cups; and whoever would stay clean amongmen must know how to wash cven with dirty water. lt d thrrt I often comfortedmy'Well thin, old heartl One misfortune failed you; self, enjoy this asyour goodfortune.-
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART ZS This, however, is the secondinstanceof my human prudence: f spare the oain more than the proud. Is not hurt vanity the mother of all tragediesPBut where pride is hurt, there somethingbetter than pride is Ukely to grow. That life may be good to look a! its play must be well acted; but for that good actorsare needed.AII the vain are good actors: they act and they want people t9 enjoy looking at them; all their spirit is behind this will. They enact themselves,thef invent themselves;near them I love to look at life: that cues my rnelancholy.ThereforeI sparethe vain, for they are the physiciansof my melancholyand keep me attachedto life as to a play. And then: who could fathom the full depth of the modestyof the vain man?I am well dispoiedto him and I pity his modesty.It is from you that he wants to acquire his faith in himself; he nourisheshimself on your glarrces,he eatsyour praiseout of your hands.He cven believesyour Iies if you lie well about him; for, at bottom, his heart sighs: what am IP And if the tnre virtue is the one that is unaware of itself-we[ the vain man is unawareof his modesty. This, however, is the third instance of my human pnrdence: that I do not permit the sight of the aorl to be spoiled for me by your timidity. I am delighted to seethe wondershatchedby a hot sun: tigers ant pahs and rattlesnakes. Among men too a hot sun hatchesa beautiful breed. And there are many wonderful things in thosewho are evil. To be sure, even as your wisest men did not strike me as so very wise,I found ment evil too smallerthan its reputation. And often I asked myself, shaking my head: why go on rattling, you rattlesnakes?
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Veriln there is yet a future for evil too. And the hottest southhas not yet beendiscoveredfor man. How many things are now called grossestwickednessand are yet only twelve shoeswide and three months longl One day, however,bigger dragonswill comeinto this world. For in order that the overman should not lack his dragon,the overdragonthat is worthy of him, much hot sunshinemust yet glow upon damp jungles. Your wildcats must ffrst turn into tigers, and your poisonous toads into crocodiles;for the good hunter shall have good hunting. Verily, you who are good and just, there is nuch about you that is laughable, and especiallyyour fear of that which has hitherto been called devil. What is great is so alien to your souls that the overmanwould be awesometo you in his kindness.And you who are wise and knowing, you would flee from the buming sun of that wisdom in which the overman pyously batheshis nakedness.You highest men whom my eyes have seen, this is my doubt concerningyou and my secret laughter: I guessthat you would call my overmanievil. Alas, I have weariedof thesehighestand best men: from their height" I longed to get up, out, and away to the ovennan.A shudder came over me when I saw thesebest onesnaked; then I grew wings to soar ofi into distant futures. Into more distant futures, into more southernsouthsthan any artist ever dreamedof-where godsare ashamedof all clothes.But I want to seeVou disguised,my neighborsand fellow men, and well decked out, and vain, and digniffed, as othe good and the ;iust." And I myself want to sit among you disguised-m'iqudging ised-nisiudging you m for that is the suised-m'i.siudsing vou and myself: prur instance of mv fnal ffnal al instance my buman prudence. Thus spoke Zarathustra.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECONDPART 2Sz THE
STILLEST
I|OUN
What happenedto me, my friends?you seeme distracted, driven away, unwillingly obedient,prepared to go--alas, to go away from you. Indeed, Zarathustra must return onc€ more to his solitude; but this time the bear goel !a9k to his cave without ioy. What happened to me? Who ordered this? Alas, my angry *istress wants iL she spoke to me; have I Jver yet mentionedher nameto yorr?Yesterday,toward evening, tlrere spoketo me mV stillest how: that is the name jf my awesomemistress.And thus it happened;for I must lell you everything lest your hearts hardeu against me for departingsuddenly. Doyou know the fright of him who falls asleep?He is frightened_downto his very toes becausethe giound gives under hgn and the dream begins. This I say to you as a parable. Yesterday,in the stillest hour,-tho groun{ g-aveunder me, the dream began. The hand moved, the clock of my life drew a breath; never had I heard such stillnessaround me: my heart took fright. Thgn it spoke to me wittrout voice: 'you know-it, ZarathusbaP And I cried with fright at this whispering and the blood left rry face; but l-remained silent. Then it spoketo me again without voice: -you know it Zarathustra,but you do not say itl" And at last I answereddeffantly: 'Yes, f know ii but I do not want to say itl" Then it spoke to me again without voice: .you do not eant to, Zarathustra?Is this really true? Do not hide in your deffance.'And I cried and trembledlike a child and spoke: 'Alas, f would like to, but how can I? Let me ofi from thisl It is beyondmy strengtht' Then it spoketo me again without voice: *hat do
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 258 you matter, Zarathusha?Speakyour word and breakl' And I answered:'Alas, is it my word? Who am IP f await the worthier one; f am not worthy evenof being broken by it." then it spoketo me again without voice: 'What do you matterPYou are not yet humble enouqh for me. -answered: Ilumility has the tougheit hide.' And f 'What has the hide of my humility not borne?I dwell at the foot of my height. How high sre my peaks?No one has told me yet. But my valleysI know well.' *O Zara. - Then it spoke to me again without voice: thustra, he who has to move mountains also moves valleys-and hollows." And I answered:'As yet my words have not movedmountains,and what f saia aii not reaehmen. Indeed,I have goneto men,but as yet I havenot arrived." Then it spoketo me againwithout voice: 'What do you know of that? The dew falls on the gass when the night,is most silent." And I answered:-They mocked me when I found and went my own way; and in truth my f99t w-eretrembling then. And thuJ they spoke to me: Tou lrave forgottenthe way, now you have also forgotten how to walk.'" Then it spoke to me again without voic,e: 'What matters their mockery?You are one who has forgotten how to obey: now you shall command.Do you not lcnowwho is most neededbv all? He that commands great things. To do great ihings is difficult; but to commandgreat things is more di$cult. This is what is most unforgivablein you: you have the power, and you do not want to ruIe." And I answered:t'I lack the lion s voice for commanding.o Then it spoketo me again as a whisper: 'It is the stillest words that bring on the storm. Thoughts that comeon doves'feetguidethe world. O Zarathustra,you
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: SECOND PART 2S9 sh{I go asa shadowof that which must come:thus you will commandan4 commanding lead the way." And I enswered:'I am ashamed.o Then it spoketo me again without voice: -You must yet becomeas a child and without shame.The pride of youthis sHll upon you; you have becomeyoung late; but whoever would becomeas a child must overcome his yolth too.' Anil I refected for a long time and trembled. But at last I said what I had said at ffnt: a do not want to.' Then laughter surroundedme. Alas, how this laughter tore my entrails and slit open my heartl And it your lpoke to me,for the last timet'O Zarathustra,'ihus fnrit is ripe, but you are not ripe for your fruit. you _mustrehun to your solitude again; for you must yet becomemellow.o And again it laughed and fed; then it becamestill around me as with a double stillness-:But I lay on the ground and sweat poured from my limbs. Now you have heard all, and why I must retum to my solitude.Nothing have I kept from you, my friends. But this too you have heard from me, who is still the most taciturn of all men-and wants to be. Alas, my friends, I still could tell you something,I still could $ve you something.Why do I not give it? Am I stingyf But when Zarathustrahad spokenthesewords he was ov€rcomeby the forcr of his pain and the nearnessof hit p"*pg from his friends, and he wept loudly; and no oire knew how to comfort him. At nigh! however, he went away aloneand left his friends,
260
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Thild Part ThusSpokeZarathustra: lou look up when Ew feel tla wed for eleoAlon, Ard I lpok iloun becuse I am eboateil. Who anongqou oanlaughatdbe eleoated. at the same tlme? Whoeoer clhnbs the highest mountahs laughs at all trogie plays atd trogic serioustoest. (Zarathustra"'On Reading and Wiltingi I, p. 152) EortoR'g NorEs t. The Wanderct: The contrast between Zarathustra'ssentimentality and his praise of hardnessremains characteristia of the rest of the book. z. Ot the Vision and.the Riddle: Zarathustra'sffrst account of tlre eternal recurrence (see my Nietzsche,rr, lI) is followed by a proto-suuealisticvision of a kiumph over Dausea. g.. On Inooluntary Blisc: Zarathustra still caonot face &c tlrought of the eternal recrurence. 4, Before Sunrise: An ode to the slcy. Another quotation from Zweig's essay on Nietzsche seemspertinent: 'His nerves immediately register every meter of height anrl Gvery pressureof the weather as a pain in his organs,and they react rebelliously to every revolt in nature. Rain or gloomy skies lower ,his vitality ( bvercast skies depressme deeply ), the weight of low clouds he feels down into his 'lowers very intestines,rain the potenUal,' humidity debilitates, drynessviviffes, sunshineis salvation,winter is a kind of paralysis and death. The quivering barometerneedle of his April-like, changeable nerves never stands still-most nearly perhapsin cloudlesslandscapes,on the windlesstableIandsoI the Engadine."In this chapterthe phrase"beyond good and evif' is introduced; also one line, slightly varie{ 'Drunken Soug" (see below). Another importaot cf the
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 96l themo in Nietzsche'sthought: tho praise of chauce and -a Itnle teasoi' as opposedto any divine purpose. 'po'wttatever S. On Virtue Thai Makes SniaH, you *ill, but . . .": What Nietzsche is concernedwith is not casu. tstry but character,not a code of morals but a kind of mao, not a syllahus of behavior but a state of being. 6. Apon tlw Mutnt of Olioes: "lho icc of hdwleilge will y_et freeze Lim !e dodhf they moan.. Compareit"fan $-9orge,spoem on the occasionof Nietzsche,s-death(my Nietzsche,Prologue,II): "He cametoo Iate who said to their imploring: There is no way left over icy clifis.7. On PasslngBy: Zaratlustra's ape?or -grunting swlne,lliotg,nUonllly parodigs Zarathusha's attitude aid stylo. IIis denunciationsare born of wounded vanity aud u"Jg* firlness, while Zarathusba's contempt is begoiten by loi"; aod'where otre can no longer lovel there jn" shoukl par by.' 8. On Apostares;Stylisttcally, Zarathustrais now often [ttlo better than his ape. But occasionalepigrams show his old powgr: tbe third paragraphin section-2,-for instance. g. The Retum Hone: ".Amongmen you will always seem wild and strange,o his solituEe says to Zarathustra. But arereall things comecaressinglyto ybur discourseand fatter you, toJ they \rant to ride on-your back On every parablo y9u rid,e_to_ every truth.- The disciplioe of cpmmunica_ Uo_noight havo served the philosopier better than tlrc indiscrjminato flattery of his jottudu'. Bot io t\is respect too, it \ilas not given to Nietzsche to lvo in bliisful ignoralce: compare, for example, .Tho Song of Melan choly" in Part Fiur. to. Ot the Three Eolls: Ttrrepraise of so-called evil as an oJ greatnessis ceitral in Nietzschek tho,,gr,C 11gI-"{]::t l.rom nis earty tragment, Homer,s Contest, to his Anftbtridst 'lhere are few problems the self*tyled immoralist pursued so persistently. Whether he calls attention to the ilement oL g".tty in the Greek agotuot denouncesChristtanitv for vititJiDg ser, whether he contrasts sublimation and e*Ur. patioo or tbe.qgoism of tlo creative and tle vengefuir ell
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 282 of one theme. In German, the th'ree variations these are in this chaper ateWollust, Hetrschsucht,S-elb*sucht' "uitr For the ffrst thire is no exact equivalent in English' In ttris chapter, "lust' might do in iome sentences'"voluptuousnesi' in others, but each would be quite lnaccurate half the time, and tho context makes it imperative that the same woril be usecl throughout. There is only one word in English that renders Niitzsche's-meaningperfectly in every shiqle sentence:sex. Its only disadvantage:it is' to put it miidly, e far less poetic word than-IVrllusf, and hence modi8ei th" tonu though not Nietzsche'smeaning' But if we refect on the threJ things which, accordingto Nietzsche,had been malignedrnost,under the infuence of Christianity,and which h6 soughtto rehabilitateor revalu' at+were'ihey not sel6shness,-thewill to Power, and sex? Nietzsche'seaily impact was in someways comparableto that of Freud or Ha-velockEllis. But prudery was for him at most one of three great evils, one kind -of h.--Pocrisy'one aspect of manb betrayal of the earth eod of himself' ti. On the Spirit of Craolty: It is nqonly-the metaphor of the camel'that points back to the ffrst chapter of Part One: the deail weilht of conventionis a prime instanceof what is meant by the spirit of gavity; and the bird that outsoars traditio; is, liki the child and the self'propelled wheel at tle begirming of the book, a syrnbol of creativity' The creator, hdpever, is neither an "evil beast" nor an "evil tamer of beasts"-neither a profligate nor an ascetic: he integates what is in him, perffets and lavishes him' 'This is my way; whgr-eis yours?" Michelself, ant says, 'the way" but a chal' angelo and'Mozart do nol oftir us lerige and a promise of what is possible. ,o.-On OId ind New Tabbts: Attempt at a granil sunmary' full of allusions to, and quotations from, previous chapters' is nowheremore striking than in sectionrz' Its unevenness with its puns on "crusades.- Such sectionsas 5, 7, and 8, on the other hand, certainly deserveattention' The despot in sectionrt, who has all history rewritten, seemsto point forward in time to Hitler, of whose racial legislation it
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: TTITRD PART 2Og could indeed be said: "with the grandfather, however, time ends." Section tS points back io Luther. Section ao exposes,inadvance Stefan George'smisconceptionwhen he second poem on NGcsche (my'Ntetzsche, g. ""{"d,,Iir u): "The warner went-the wheel that downward rolls-/ To emptiness no arm now tacklc in the spot<es..The pen$tirnale p.aragrapSof this section is moie .playful. in the original:-Ein vorsptel bin bh bessererSpiZlai,,oh melne Briiderl Etn Behptell f1 section zg the key word is Yersuch, one of Nietzsche's favorite woids, whfch rneans experiment attempt, kial. Sometimeshe associatesit with yh9n,__searching. (In Chapter z, "On the Vision and the Riddle," Suche4 Yersuchbrhas been rendered *search. ers, researchers.")Sectionzg, ffnally, is used agaiu, with rninutg changes,to concludeTwitlight-ofthe ldols. tg, The Cornnhscent: ZarathuGa still cannot face the drought of the eternal recrurencebut speala about human speech and cruelty, In the end, his animats expound the etemal recunence. ,+.-Qn the Great Longtng: Hymn to his soul: Zarathustra and his soul wonder which of them should be grateful to the other. q. Th9 Other,Danclng Song: Life and wisdom as women aglin; but in i[is dancing song, life is in complete control, and when Zarathustra's imagi*nation-* with him "*iy he .gets his face _slapped.W=hathe whispers irrto thu of life at the end of section 2 is, no doribg that after "", his death he -w-ill y-et recur eternally. The song at the end, punctuated by the twelve strokes-of the bell,-is inteqpret
2U
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
THE
WANDEREN.
It was about midnight when Zarathustrastarted acrossthe ridge of the-island so that he might reach the other coastby early morning;for there he wanted to embark.Therehe would ffnd a goodroadsteadwhere foreign ships too liked to anchor, and they often took along people who wanted to cross the sea from the blessedisles. Now as Zarathustrawas climbing the mountainhe thought how often since his youth he had wandered alonJ and how many mountains and ridges and peaks he had alreadyclimbed. I am a wanderer andla mountain climber, he said to his heart; I do not like the plains,and it seemsf cannot sit still for long. And whatever may yet come to me as destiny and experiencewill include some wandering and mountain climbing: in the end, one experiences only oneself.The time is gone when mere__accidents could still happento me; and what could still cometo me now that was not mine already?What returns,what ffnally comeshome to me, is my own self and what of myseif has long been in strangelands and scattered among all things and accidents.And one fu*her_ thing I know: I standbefore my ffnal peak now and before that which has beensavedup for me the longest.Alas, now I must face my hardest pathl Alas, I have begun my loneliest walkl But whoever is of my kind cannot es-capesudt an hour-the hour which saysto him: "Only now are you going your way to greatnessl Peak and abyss-they are now joined together. 'You are going your way to greatness: now that which has hifherro been your ultimate danger has become your ultimate refuge.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THrRD PART g6E "You are goingyour way to grebtnessr now this must give you courage that there is no longer $9 B._eatest any path behind you. "-Tooare going your_wayto greatness:here nobody . shall sneakafter you. Your own foot has efiacedthl path behind you, and over it there is written: impossibility. 'And if you now lack all ladders,then you mustknow how to climb on your own headl how elsewould you want to climb rpward?On your own head and away over your own heartl Now what was gentlestin you muststill becomethe hardest.He who hai alwaysspared -much himself much will in the end becomesickly of so consideration. Praisedbe what hardens!I do not praise the land where butter and honey flow. 'One must learn to look ouaf from oneselfin order to seemuch: this hardnessis necessary to everyclimber of mountains. "But the lover of knowledge who is obtrusive with his eyes-how could he see more of all things than their foregrounds?But you, O Zarathustra,rvaited to seethe_groundand backgroundof all things;henceyou must cfimb over yourself-upward, up until even your starsare urtdzt youl" fndeed,to look down upon myselfand evenupon my stars,that alone I should call my peak; that has ,emainedfor me as my ultimate peak. Thus spokeZarathustrato himself as he was climbing, comforting his heart with hard maxims;for his heart was soreas never before.And when he reached the height of the rid_ge, behold,the other sealay spread -silent out beforehim; and he stoodstill and remainid a-longtime. But the night was cold at this height,and clear and starqybright
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 266 I recognizemy lot, he finally said sorrowfuly' WelL reaiy. No* my ultimatelonelinesshas begun'-Al"r, -I am tiis black sonowful sea below met Alas, this Dreqnantnocturnal dismaylAlas, destiny and seal To ioo"l -.ttt no\r/qo dournfBeforemy highestmountain i stand and befire my longestwandering;to that end I must ffrst go down-deeperthan ev-erI descendeddown into its deeperinto iain than ever f descended, Well, I am it' wants my destiny Thus floo-d. bh6kest ready. Wh"n." comethq highestmountains?I onceasked' Then I learned that ti'ey came out of the sea' The evidenceis written in their rocks and in the walls of their peals. It is out of the deepestdepth that the highest must cometo its height. Thus spoke Zarathustraon the peak of the mountain, whde it was cold; but when he came close to the seaand at last stoodaloneamongthe cliffs,he had becomeweary from walking and evenmore full of longins than before. Everything is still asleepnow, he said; even the sea is asleep.Dr"unkwith sleep an{ {ra!g! !t l.ooksat ma But its ireath is warm, that I feel. And I also feel that it is dreaming.In its dreamsit tosseson hard gillgry' Listent Listeil How it groanswith evil memoriestOr fot"Uoaings?AIas,I am sad with-you, you.dyk "Ji and Jven annoyedwith myself for your sake' monster, Alas, tlat my hand does not have strength-eaoughl V"iy, I should like to deliver you from evil dreams' And as Zarathushawas speakingthus he laughed at himself in melancholyand bitterness'What, Zarathustra, he said,would you singcomfortevento thesea?O you you are tnrst-overfull' But thus i"*g iool, Zarathustra-,
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 26Z have you always been: you have always approached everything terrible truslfully. You have wanied to pet every monster. A whift of warm breath, a little Joft tuft on,the paw-and at onc€you were ready to love and to lure it. - Love is the danger of the loneliest; Iove of everything if only it is alive. Laughable,verily, are my folly and my modestyin love. Thus spoke Zarathustraand laughed for the second time. But then he recalledhis friends whom he had left; and, asif he had wrongedthem with his thoughtg he_wasangry with himselffor his thoughts.And ioon it happele-dthat he who had laughed wept: from wrath and longing Zarathustrawept bitterly. ON TIIE
VISION
AND
THE
RIDDLE
I
I4lhenit got abroadamongthe sailorsthat Zarathustra was on board-for anotherman from the blessed isleshad embarkedwith him-there wasmuchcuriosigr and anticipation. But Zarathustraremained silent for two days and was cold and deaf.from sadnessand answered neither glancesnor questions.But on the eve4lg of the second day he opened his ears again, although he still remained sileni, for there was riuch that was strangeand dangerousto be heard on this ship, yhich came from fai away and wanted to sail even farther, But Zarathustrawis a friend of all who travel far and do not like to live without danger. And behold,eventuallyhis own tonguewas loosenEdas he listened,and thelce of his hear{broke.Then he began to speakthus: To you, the bold searchers,researchers,and whoever
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 268 €mbarks with cunning sails on terrible seas-to yorg drunk with riddles, gtad of the twilight, whose soul flutes lure astrayto eviry whirlpool, becauseyou do not a threadiith cowardly'hand;and want to gtop" "long giess, you hate to deduce-to you where you-ean alone I telt the iiddle that' I sau, the vision of the loneliesL Not long ago I walkeclgloomilythroug! the deadly pallor of dusk-gloomy and hard, with Iips pressed iogether.Not only one sunhad set for me. A path that lonely,-not as6endeddeffantly throughstones,malicious,, cheeredby herb'or shru-b-a mountainpath crunched under the deftanceof my foot Striding silently over the mockingclatter of pibbles, crushingthe rock that madeit slipl ml foot foiced its way upward.Upwarddefyinq thi spirit that drew it downward toward the abyss,'thetpi.it of gravity, my devil and archenemy. Upwatd-al^though f,e tot ott me, half dwarf, half m^ole,lame, making lame, dripping lead into my ear, leadenthoughtsinto my brain'O Zaratliustra,'hewhisperedmockingly,syllableby *you philosopher{_ stone!-Youthrew yourself sflable; de hiett, Lut every slone that is thrown must fall' O drath--ustra,you philosophert stone, you slingstone, \rou starcrusherltou threw yourself up so high; but everv stone that is thrown must fall. Sentencedto yo,riself and to your own stoning-O Zarathustra,far i"a""a have you'thrown the ston6,but it will fall bacl on yourself." i},en the dwarf fell silen! and that lasted a long time. His silence,however, oppressedme; and such is sureV moreloneiomethan being alone' twosomeness I climbed,I climbed,I dreamed,I thought; but everything oppressedme. I was like one sick whom his wicied t&t"t" makesweary, and who as he falls asleep
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA* THIRD PART 269 is awakenedby a still more wicked &eam. But there is somethingin me that I call courage;that has so far slain my every discouragement. This courageffnally bade me standstill and speak:'Dwarf! It is you or Itt For courageis the best slayer,couragewhich afacfts; for in every attackthere is playing and brass. Man, however,is the mostcourageous animal: hence he overcameevery animal.With playing and brasshe has so far overcomeeverypain; but humanpain is the deepestpain. Couragealso slaysdizzinessat the edge of abyssesr and where doesman not standat the edgeof abysses? Is not seeingalways-seeing abysses? Courageis-the best slayer: courageslays even pity. But pity is the deepestabyss:as deeply as man sees into life, he also seesinto sufiering. Courage,however,is the best slayer-courage which which slayseven death itse[ for it says,"Was "-n "h, hf.e?WelI thent Once morel" that In such words, however,there is much playing and brass.He that has earsto hear,let him heail 'Stop,
2
'It
dwarfl' I said. is I or yout But I am the s-tronqerof us two: you do not know my abysml thought, That you could not bearl' happenedthat made.melighter, for - Then s-omething the dwarf jumpedfrom my shoulder,beingcurious;and he crouched on a stone before me. Bui there was galeway just where we had stopped. 'Behold this gateway, dwarft-"-I continued. 'It has lwo {aees, Two paths meet here; no one has yet tollowed either to its end. This long lane stretches back for an eternity. And the long lane out there, that js another eternity. They contradict each other, these
Eto
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
paths; they ofiend each other face to face; and it is hereat this gatewaythat they cometogether.The name 'Moment.' But whoof the gatewayis inscribed above: ever would follow one of them, on and on, farther and farther-do you believe, dwarf, that these paths contradict each other etemally?" 'All that is straight lies," the dwarf murmured con' 'All truth is crooked; time itself is a temptuously. circle.'do not make 'You spirit of gravrty,' I said angrily, things too easyfbr yourselflOr I shall let you crouch where you are crouching,lamefoot;and it was I that carried you to this heiglt. 'Behold," I continued,'thismomenttFrom this gateway, Moment, a long, eternal lane leads backuard: belind us lies an eternity.Must not whateverccn walk have walked on this lane before? Must not whatever can happen have happened,have been done, have passedby before?And if everythinghas been there before-what do you think, dwarf, of this moment? Must not this gatewaytoo havebeentherebefore?And 8re not all things knotted togetherso firmly that this momentdrawsafter it all that is to come?ThereforeitseUtoo?For whatevercan walk-in this long lane out there too, it must walk onee more. 'And this slow spider,which crawlsin the moonlight, and I and you in the gateway, and this moonlighCitself, of eternalthings-must whispering whisperingtogether, -have been there before?And return and not ;U of,ts walk in that other lane, out there, before us, in this long dreadfullane-must we not eternallyretumP Thus I spoke,moreand moresoftly; for I was afraid. of my own thoughts and the thoughts behind my thougihts.Then suddenly I heard a dog howl neatll. Had-I ever heard a dog howl like this? My thoughts
THIRD PAR'T 271 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: in the most distant child, when was a I raced back. Yes, childhood:then I'heard a dog howl like this. And I saw him too, bristling, his heail rip, trembling, in the stillest midnight when-even dogs believe in ghosts-and I took pity: for just then the full moon, silent as deatbn passedover the house; iust then it stood still, a round ilow-sull on the fat roof, as if on another'sPryPe*y -that was why the dog was terriffed, for dogs believe in thievesand ghosts.And when I heard such howling I took piry again. aqain 'where *"i tir" dwarf gone now? And the gateway? And the spider?And all the whispering?Was I dream. then? Was I waking up? ing, -Among wild clifis I stood suildenly alone, bleak in the blealiestmoonlight. But there lag a man. And there -the dog, iumping, bristling, whining-now he saw ne coming; then he howled again,he cried,.Had I e'tet beard a dog cry like this for he\t? And veriln wha! I saw-I had never seen the like. A young shepheril I saw, writhing gagging, in spasms,hil face distorte4 and a heavy-black snakehung out of his mouth. Had I ever seen so much nauseaand pale dread on one face?He seemedto have been asleepwhen the snake crawled into his throat, and there bit itself fast My hand tore at the snakeand tore in vain; it did. not teat the snake out of his throat. Then it cried out of me: 'Bitel Bite its head ofil Bitel" Thus it eried out of memy dread, my hatred, rny nausea,my Pity, all that is good and wicked in me cried out of me with a single crv. 'You bold oneswho surround met You searchers,ttsearchers,and whoever amongyou has embarkedwith ornning sails on unexplored seas.You who are glad of riddlesl Guessme this riddle that I saw then, interpret me the vision of the loneliesl For it was e vision
272
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
and a foreseeing,Wtult ditl I see then in a parable? And a:ho is it who must yet comeone day? IVho ie the shepherd into whose throat the snake crawled tbus? Wfto is the-man into whose tlroat all that is heaviest and blackestwill crawl thus? The shepherd,however,bit asmy cry eounseledlrim; he bit with a good bite. Far away he qpewedthe head of the snake-and he iumped up. No longer shepherd, no longer humar-one changed, radiang hughngl Never yet on earth has a human being laughed as he laughecllO my brothers,I heard a laughter that was no human laughter; and now a thirst gnawsat me, a longing that never grows still. My longing for tlis laughter gn-awsat rne; oh, how do I bear to go on livingl Anil how could I bear to die nowl Thus spoke Zarathustra" ON
INVOLUNTANY
BLISS
With such riddles and bittemessesin his heart Zara' t[ustra crossedthe sea. But when he was four days away from the blessedisles and from his friends, he had-overcomeall his pain; triumphant 1nd \il'ith ffrm feet he stooil on his destiny again. And then ZarathusEa spokethus to his iubilant conseience: I am alone again anil I want to be so; alone witb the pure skv and open sea;again it is afternoonaround .".^It *"t io th6 afternooi that I once found my friends for the ffrst time; it was aftemoon the second time too, at the hour when all light grows quieter. For whateverof happinessis still on its way betweenheaven and earth nowieela a shelterin a bright soul; it is from bappinessthat all Ught b"t grown quieter.
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:THIRD PART 278 O afternoon of ^y lifel Once my happiness too descendedto the valley to seekshelter; and found those operq hospitable souls. O afternoon of my lifel What have I not $ven up to have one single thing: this Iiving plantation of my thoughts and this monring light of my highest hopel Companionsttre creator once soughgand children of his hope; anil behold, it tumed out that he could not ffnd therL unless he ffrst created.them himself. Ttus I am in the middle of my wor\ going to my children and, returning from t$em: for his childrerfs sake, Zarathustra must perfect himseU. For from tho depths one loves only one'schild and work; and where $ere is-grea!love of oneselfit is the sign of pregnancy: thus I found it to be. My childreo ari still-verdant in their ffrst sprin_g,stan&n[ closetogetherand shakenby ttre samewinds-the trees of my garden and my beit soil. And verily, where such tees stand togethei there are blessedisles. But ore day I want to dig them up and place each by itseLf,so it may leam solitude anl deffancpand caution Gnarled and-bent and with sup ple hardnessit shall-then stand by the sea, a liviig lighthouse of invincible lfa Where the stormsplunge down into the sea and the mountain stretchesout its trunk for water, there eveqy one shall once have his day and night watchesfor his testing and knowledge.He shall be known and testd whether he is of my kind and kin, whether he is the master of a long wilt taciturn even when he speaks, and yielcling so that in giving he receives-so that he may one day become my companion and a fellow creator and fellow celebrant of Zarathustra-one who writes my will 9-nmy tabletsto contribute to the greater perfection of all tbings. Ald for his sakeand thi sako
THE PORTADLENIETZSCHE 274 of thoselike him I must perfect myself; thereforeI norn' andbfier myselfto all unhappiness, evademy happiness tbr my ffnal testing and knowledge. And verily, it was time for me to leave; and the rvanderer'sihaalow and the longest boredom and the stillest hour-they all urged me: "It is high time." The wind blew through my keyhole and said, "Come!" Cunningly,the door flew open and said to me, "Go!" But I liy there chaineclto the love for-my children: desire set this snarefor me-the desirefor love that I might becomemy childrent prey and lose myself .t9 thein. Desire-this meansto me to have lost myself. I have gou, my children! In this experienceeverything shall be securityand nothing desire. But, brooding,the sun of my love lay 9n me;7'arathustra was cooking in his own iuice-then shadows and doubts few over me. I yearned for frost and rvinter: "Oh, that frost and winter might make me crack and crunch againl" I sighed;then icy mistsrose from me. My past blurstits toribs; many a pain that had been buried ilive awoke, having merely slept, hidden in burial shrouds. 'It Thus everythingcalleil out to me in signs: is timel" hear, until at last my abyssstirred and But I diil "-ot bit me. Alas, abysmalthought that is my my thought thoueht,-when shall I ffnd the strength to hear you burrowing, without trernbling any- more? My heart nounclsti mv very throat wheneverI hear you burrow' ins. Evenyout til..rc" wantsto chokeme, you rvhoare so"abysmailysilent.As yet I have neverdaredto sum' *on yo.r; ii was etto,rgh that I carried you with me' As yei I have not beenitrong enoughfor the ftnaloverbeirine, prankish bearingof the lion' Your gravity was a*uyt"t"oiUle enoughf6r me; but one day I shall yet 6nd the strength and the liont voice to summonyou'
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 275 And once I have overcomemyself that far, then I also urant to overcomemyself in what is still greater; and e victory shall sealmy perfection. Meanwhile I still drift on uncertain seas;smoothtonguedaccidentflattersme; forward and backwardI looh and still seeno end. As yet the hour of my ffnal gtrugSlehas not cometo me+r is it coming iust now? Veriln r+'ithbeacherousbeauty seaand life look at me. oj nqylife! O happinessbefore eveningt ^ O afternoo_n O havenon thehigh seas!O peice in uncertainty!Hoiv I mistrust all of youl Veriln I am mistrusdul of your treacherousbeauty. I am like the lover who mistrusts the all-too-velvetsmile.As he pusheshis most beloved before him, tender even in his hardness,and jealous, thus I push this blessedhour beforeme. Away with you, blessedhour: with you bliss came to me_againlt_my will. Willing to sufier my deepest pain, I standhere:.you cameat the wrong time. Away with you, blessed hour: rather seek shelter ther+with my children. Hurry and blessthem before eveningwith rny happiness. There eveningapproacheseven now: the sun sinks. Gone-*ny happinessl Thus spoke Zarathusba.And he waited for his unhappinessthe entire night, but he waited in vain. The night remainedbright and still, and happinessitself came closer and closer to him. Toward morning, however, Zarathustralaughedin his heart and said mockingly, 'Happinessruns after me. That is becauseI do not run after women.For happinessis a woman.'
276
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
BEFORE
SUNRISE
O heaven above me, pure and deep! You abyss of lightl Seeing you, I tremble with godlike desires. To throw myself into your height, that is my depth. To hide in your purity, that is azy innocence. Gods are shrouded by their beauty; thus you conceal your stars. You do not speak; thus you proclaim your wisdom to me. Today you rose for me silently over the roaring sea; your love and your shynessare a revelation to my roaring soul. That you came to me, beautiful shrouded in your beauty, that you speak to me silently, revealing your wisdom-oh, how should I not guess all that is shy in your soul! Before the sun you came to me, the loneliest of all. We are friends from the beginning: we share grief and ground and gray dread; we even share the sun. We do not speak to each other, because we know too much; we are silent to each other, we smile our knowledge at each other. Are you not the light for my ffre? Have you not the sister soul to my insight? Together we have learned everything; together we have learned to ascend over ourselves to ourselves and to smile cloudlessly-to smile down cloudlessly from bright eyes and from a vast distance when constraint and contrivance and guilt steam beneath us like rain. And rvhen I wandered alone, for wlwm did my soul hunger at night, on false paths? And when I climbed mountains, ulzom did I always seek on the mountairs, if not you? And all my wandering and mountain climbing were sheel necessityand a help in my helplessness: wlrat I rvant with all my will is to /y, to fly up iato gou. And whom did I h:rte more than drifting clouds and
THttS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 277 all that stains you? And I hated even my own hatred becauseit stained you. I loathe the drifting clouds, thosestealthygreat cats which prey on what you and I have in commorr-the uncanny,unboundedYes and Amen. We loathe thesemediatorsand mixers,the drifting clouds that are half-and-half and have leamed neither to blessnor to cursefrom the heart. Rather would I sit jn a banel under closedheavens, rather sit in the abysswithout a heaven,than see you, bright heaven, stained by drifting clouds. And often I had the desireto tie them fast with the iagged golden wires of the lightning, tha! like thurr der, I might beat the big drums on their kettle-bellyan angry kettle.drummer-becausethey rob me of your Yesand Amen, O heavenover me, pure and lightl You abyssof lightl Becausethey rob you of mg Yesand Amen. For I prefer even noise and thunder and stormctrrses to this deliberate, doubting cats' calm; and amongrnen too I hate most of all the soft-treadersand those who are half-and-half and doubting, tott€ring drift clouds. 'whoever And cannot blessshould learn to ss15s'this bright doctrine fell to me from a bright heaven; tlis star standsin my heaven even in black nights. But I am one who can blessand say Yes,if only you are about me, pure and light, you abyssof lighti tlren I carry the blessingsof my Yesinto all abysses.I have becomeone who blessesand says Yes; and I fought long for tha! and was a ffghter that I might one day get r-n/ hands free to bless.But this is my blessing: to stand over every single thing as its own heaven,as its round roof, its azure bell, and etemal security; and blessedis he who blessesthus. For all things have been baptized in the well of
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 278 eternity and are beygnd good and evil; and good and evil themselvesare but intervening shadowsand damp and drifting clouds. depressions Verily, it is a blessiig and not a blasphemywhen I 'Over all things stand the heavenAccident the teach: heaven fnnocence, the heaven Chance, the heaven Prankishness.' 'By Chance'-that is the most ancient nobility o! the world, and this I restoredto all things: I delivered them from their bondageunder Purpose.This freedom and heavenly cheer I f,ave placed 6ver all things like an azurebell when I taught that over them and through *eternal will" wills. This prankish folly I have them no 'In eveqyput in the plac'eof that will when I taught: tlring onething is impossible:rationality.o I'Wle reason,to be sure,a seedof wisdomscattered from star to star-this leaven is mixed in with all things: for folly's sake, wisdom is mixed in with all things. A little wisdom is possibleindeed; but this blessedcertainty I found in all things: tbat they would ra*ter danceon the feet of Chance. O heavenover me, pure and high! That is what lour purity is to me now, that there is no eternal spide-ror ipider web of reason;that you are to me a danct foor fir divine accidents,that ybu are to me a divine table for divine dice and dice players. But you blush?Did I speak the unspeakable?Did I blaspheme,wishing-to that makes b-lessvou?Or ii it the shameof twosomeness silent because and be you blush? Do you bid me go now? tbe dng is coming The-world is deep-and deeperthan day had ever been aware. Not everything may be put into words in the presenceof the day. But the day is coming so let us parL
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 279 O heavenover-me, bashful and glowingl O you, my happinessbefore suruisel The day is coming, so let ts partl Thus spoke Zarathustra. ON VIRTUE THAT II{AXES SI(ALL 1
When Zarathustrawas on land againhe did not proceedstraightto his mountainand his cave,but he undertook many ways and questionsand found out this and that; so that he said of himself,joking: 'Behold a river that flows, winding and t'wisting, back to its sourcet" For he wanted to determine what had happened to man meanwhile: whether he had become greater or smaller. And once he saw a row of new houses;then he was amazedand said: 'What do these housesmean?Veriln no great soul put them up as its likeness.Might an idiotic chiltl have taken them out of his toy box? Would that another child might put them back into his boxt And these roomsand chambers-+an men go in and out of them? They look to me as if made for silken dolls, or for stealthy ni-bblen who probably also let themselvesbe nibbled stealthily.o And Zarathushastood still and reflected.At last he said sadly: Everything has become smallerl Everywhere I see lower gates: those who are of my kind probably still go through, but they must stoop. Oh, when shall I get back to my homeland,where I need no longer stoop-no longer stoop beforethose uln ate slrtallT And Zarathustra sighed and looked into the distance. On that same day, however, he made his speechon vhtue that makessmall
284
THE PORTABLE NTETZSCHE 2
I walk amongthis people and I keep my eyesopent they do not forgive me that I do not envy their virtues. thiy bite at me becauseI say to them: small people need small virtues-and becauseI ffnd it hard to accept that small peopleare needed. I am still like the rooster in a strange yard, where the hensalso bite at him; but I am not angry with the hens on that account. I am polite to them as to all small annoyances;to be prickly to what is small strikes me aswisdomfor hedgehogs. They all speak of me when they it around the ffre in the'anening;they speakof me, but no one thinks of me. llhis is the new stillnessI have learned: their noise concerningme spreadsa cloak over my thoughts. They noise among themselves:aMhat would this sloomycloud bring us?Let us seeto it that it doesnot tore back [ti"g * a plaguef' And recently a woman'Take the me. to to come her child when it wanted 'such eyesscorchchildren's cried; children awayl'she souls.' They cough when I speak: they think that a they guess cnugh fu an argumentagainst strongwinds; 'We have no nothing of the roaring of my happiness. time yet for Zarathustra,' they argue; but what matters *has no time' for Zarathustra? a time that And when they praise me, how could I go to sleeP ot their praise?Their praise is a belt of thoms to me: it scratcliesme even ai I sh^ke it ofi. And this too I have learned among them: he who gives praise poses as if he were $ving backi in truth, however,he wants more gifts. Ask my foot whether it likes their way of lauding and luringl Verily, after sucha beat and ticktockit has no wish either to dance or to stand still. They would
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 281 laud and lure me into a small virtue; they would persuademy foot to the ticktockof a smallhappiness. I walk amongthis peopleand I keepmy eyesopen: they have becomesmaller, and they are becoming snrallerand smaller; but thb is due to their docbine of happinessand, oirtue. For they are modest in virtue, too-becausethey want contentment. But only a modest virhre getsalongwith contentment. To be sure, even tbey learn in their way to stride and to strideforward: I call it their hobbling.Thus they becomea stumbling block for everyonewho is in a hurry. And many among them walk forward while looking backwardwith their necksstifi: I like running into them. Foot and eye shouldnot lie nor give the lie to eachother. But thereis much lying amongthe small people.Someof them wjll, but most of them are only willed. Someof them are genuine,but mostof them are bad actors.There are unconscious actorsamongthem and involuntary actors; the genuine are always rare, especiallygenuine actors. There is little of man here; thereforetheir women strive to be mannish.For only he who is man enough will releasethe woman in woman. And'that this hypocrisy I found to be the rporst among them, even those who command, hypocritically feign the virtues of those who serve. 'I serve, you s€rve,we ssrvs"-drug prays even the hypocrisy of the rulers; an{ woe, il the ffrst lord is merelV the ffrst serrrantt Alas, into their hypoerisiestoo the curiosity of my eyesfew astray;and well I guessedtheir fly-happiness and their humming around sunny windowpanes. So much kindness,so much weaknessdo I see; so much justice and pity, so much weakness. Round, righteous, and hnd they are to each other,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 282 grains of sand,righteousand kind with grains like round of sand.Modestlyto embracea small happiness-that *resignation'-and modestly they squint the they call while for another small happiness.At bottom, these simpletonswant a singlething most of all: that nobody should hurt them. Thus they try to pleaseand gratify everybody. This, however, is cowardic€,even if it be called virtue. And if they oncespeakroughly,thesesmallpeople,f for everydraft makesthem hear only their hoarseness, boarse.They areclever,their virtueshavecleverffngers. But they lack ffsts,their ffngersdo not know how to hide behind ffsts.Virtue to them is that which makes modestand tame: with that they have turned the wolf into a dog'and man himself into man'sbest domestic animal. "We have placed our chair in the middle," your -and exactly as far from dying smirking says to me; ffghters as from amusedsows.-That, however,is medi' ocrity, thoughit be calledmoderation. 3 I walk among this people and I let many a word drop; but they know neitherhow to acceptnor how to retain. They are amazedthat I did not eometo revile venery and vice; and verily, I fid not csme to warn against -pickpocketseither. They are amazedthat I am not preparedto teachwit to their clevemessand to whet it-as if they did not have enough clever boys, whose voices screechlike slate pencilst And when I shout,'Curse all cowardlydevilsin you who like to whine and fold their handsand prav," they shout, Zarathustra is godless."And their teachersof
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 289 resignationshout it especially; but it is precisely into their ears that I like to shout, 'Yes, I am Zarathustra the godlesst'Theseteachersof resignationlWhatever is small and sick and scabbn they crawl to like lice; and only my nauseapreventsme from squashingthem. Well then, this is my preachingf.ortheir ears:I am Zarathustrathe godless,who speaks:'Who is more godlessthan I, that I may delight in his instruction?" I am Zarathustrathe godless:where shall I ffnd my equal?And all thoseare my equalswho give themselves their own will and reject all resignation. f am Zarathustra the godless: I still cook every chancein my pot. And only when it has been cooked through there do f webome it as my food. And verily, many a chancecameto me domineeringly;but rny will spoke to it still more domineeringly-and immediately it lay imploringly on its knees,imploring that it might ffnd a hearth and heart in me, and urging with flattery, 'Looh Zarathustra, how only a friend comes to bis friendl" But why do I speakwhere nobodyhas my ears?And so let me shout it into all the wjnds: You are becoming smaller and smaller, you small peoplel You are crumbling, you cpmfortable ones. You will yet perish of your many small virtues, of your many small abstentiong of your many small resignations.Too considerate,too yielding is your soil. But that r tree may beame gred, it must stike hard roots around hard rocks. What you abstainfrom too weavesat the web of all human future; your nothing too is a spider web and a spider, which Iives on the blood of the future. And when you reccive it is Uke stealing, you small men of virtue; but evenamongrogues,lnnor says,'Oneshould steal only where one cannotrob," 'It will give eventually--that is anotherteaching of
2U
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
resignation.But I tell you who are comfortablet it u:ilt take and will take more and more from yout Oh, that you would reject all luilfhea*ed willing and would becomeresolutein sloth and deedl Alas, that you would understandmy word: "Do whatever you will, but ffrst be such as areable to usill. oDo love your neighboras yourself,but ffrst be such s laae themseloe*loving with a great love, loving with a great contempt.' Thus speaksZarathustrathe godless. But why do I speakwhere nobody has rng ears?It is still an hour too early for me here. I am my own precursor among this people, my own cock's crow through dark lanes.But their hour will comelAnd mine will come toot Hourly, they are becoming smaller, poorer, more sterile-poor herbsl poor soill and soon they shall stand there like dry grass and prairieand verily, weary of themselvesand languishing even more than for water-for Jtra. O blessedhour of lightning! O secretbeforenoon!I yet hope to tum them into gallopingffresand heralds with ffbry tongues-they shall yet proclaim with ffery tongues:It is coming,it is near-flre great noonl Thus qpokeZarathustra. UPON THE
MOUNT
OF OLIVES
Winter, a wicked guest,is sitting at home with me; my hands are blue from the handshakeof his friendship. I honor this wicked guest,but I like to ,let him sit alone. I like to run away from him; and if one ruut uell, one escapeshim. With warm feet and warm thoughts I run whete the wind stands still to the sunnynook of my mount of olives.There I laugh at my severeguest and am still well disposedtoward him for
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 285 catching the fies at home and for silencingmuch small noise.For he doesnot sqfrerit when a mosquitowould sing, or eventwo; he evenmakesthe lane lonely till the moonlight in it is afraid at night He is a hard guest, but I honor him, and f do not pray, like &e pampered,to the potbellied ffre idol. Even a little chattering of the teeth rather tlan adoring idols -thus rny nature dictates.And I have a specialgrudge against all ffre idols that are in hea! steaming and musty. Whomever I lovg f bve better in winter than in summer;I mock my enemiesbetter and more heartily sincewinter dwells in my home.Heartily, in truth, even when I crawl into bed; even then my hidden happiness still laughs and is full of pranks; even &e dream that lies to me still laughs. I-a crawler? Never in my life have I crawled before tbe mighty; and if ever I lied, I lied out of love. ThereforeI am glad in the wintry bed too. A simple bed warms me more than a rich one, for I am jealous of my poverty, and in winter it is most faithful to me. I be$n every day with a bit of maliee: I mock the winter with a cold bath; that makesmy severehouse guestgrumble. Besides,I like to tickle hirn with a little wax candle to make him let th" rky come out of the ashgngray twilight at last. For I arn especiallymalicious in the morning, in that early hour when the pail rattles at the well and the horseswhinny warmly thiough gray Ianes.Then I-wait impatientlyfoi the bright rt /toisl beforeme at last, the snow-beardedwintJr sky, the old man with his white hair-the winter sky, so tacitum that it often tacitly hides even its sun. Was it from him that I leamed the long bright silence?Or did he learn it frorn me? Or did ea-chof-us invent it independently?The origin of all good things
THE PORTABLENTETZSCHE 2gg thousandfold; all good prankish things leap into ls existencrfrom sheerioy: how cpuld one expectthem to do that only once?Long silencctoo is a good prankish thing-and to look out of a bright round-eyed face, like the winter slcy,and tacitly to hide one's sun and one's indomitable solar will: verily, this art antl this winter prank I have learnedwell. It is my favorite malice and art that my silencehas Ieamed not to b"tt"y itself thmugh silencr. Rattling with discourse and dice, I outwit those who wait solemnly: my will and puqposeshall elude all these severeinspectors.That no one may disctm my ground and ultimate will, for that I have invented my long bright silence. Many I found who were clever: they veiled their facesand muddied theirwaters that nobody might see through them, deep down. But precisely to them came the cleverer mistrusters and nutcrackersl preciselytheir mosthidden ffsh were ffshedout It is the bright, the bold, the transparent who are cleverest among those who are silent: their ground is down so deep that eventhe brightestwater doesnot betray it You snow-beardedsilent winter tky, yoo round-eyed white-head above mel O you heavenlyparable of my soul and its prankst And must I not conceal myself like one who has swallowedgold, lest they slit open my soul?Must I not walk on stilts that they overlookmy long legs-all these grudge-ioysand drudge-boyswho sunound me? These smokn room-temperature,used-up,wilted, fredul souls -how could their grudgeenduremy happinessP Hence I show them only the icc and the winter of my peaksand not that my mountain still winds all the belts of t'he sun round itseU. They hear only my winter rvinds whistling-and not that I also cross warm seas,like tonging, heavy,hot southwinds. they still haveprty on
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THTRDPART 287 my accidents;but my word says,'Let accidentscome to me, they are innocentas little children.' How could they endure my happinessif I dicl not wrap my happinessin accidentsand winter distressand po,lglhr capsand coyerr of snowy heavens-if I myself did not have mercy on their pty, which is the pity of _grudge-joysand drudge-boy* if I myself did not ttglt b"Io* them and chatter with cold and patiently arffer them to wrap me in their prty. This is lhe wisb frolicsomenessand-friendlinessof-my soul, that it does not cuncealits winter and its icy winds; nor does it concealits chilblains. Lonelinesscan be the escapeof the siclq loneliness can also be escapelron the siclc Let them hear me chatter and sigh with the winter cold, all thesepoor jealousjokersaroundmet With such Sighingand chatteringI still escapetheir heatedrooms. Let them suffer and sigh over my chilblains.'The ice of lcnowledgewill yet freezehim to deatht" they moaru Meanwhile I run crisscrosson my mount of olives with warm feet; in the sunny nook of my mount of olives I sing and I mock all pity. Thus sangZarathustra. ON PASSING
EY
_ thul, wallcing slowly among many peoples and tbrough numerous towns, Zarathustra returned on roundaboutpaths to his mountainsand his cave. And on the way he alsocameuneqrectedlyto the gateof the great city; but here a foaming fool jumped toward him with outspreadhands and barred his *ay. This, however, was the samefool whom the people cralledZarathushat ape": for he had gathered somethingof his phrasing and cadencesand also liked to borrow fro'm
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 288 the treasuresof his wisdom. But the fool spokethus to Zarathustra: 'O Zarathustra,here is the great city; here you could ffnd nothing and lose'everything.Why do you want to wade through this mire? Have pity on your footl Rathet spit on the crty gate and turn back. Here is hell for a hermits thoughts: here great thoughts are boiled alive and cooked till they are small. Here all geat feelings decay: only the smallestrattlebonedfeelingsmay rattle and ovensof here. Dont you smell the slaughterhouses the spirit even now? Does not this town steamwith the fumes of slaughteredspirit? 'Dont you seethe soulhanginglike a limp, di*y rag? And they still make newspapersof theseragsl "Dort't you hear how the spirit hashere beenreduced to plays on words?It vomits rwolting verbal swill. And they still make newspapersof this swilll -They hound each other end }now not where. they overheat each other and know not why. They tinkle with their tin, they iingle with their gold. They are cold and seekwarmth from branily; they are heatedand seek coolnessfrom frozen spirits; tbey are all diseasedand sick with public opinions 'All lusts and vices are at home here; but there are also somehere who are virtuous: there is much serviceable, serving virtue-rnuch serviceablevirtue with pen ftngersand hard sitting- and waiting-fesh, blessedwith little stars on the chest and with padded, rumpless daughters.Thereis alsomuch piety, and there are many devout lickqpittles,batteriesof fakersand flattery-bakers 'from above'that the before the God of Hosts.For it is starsand the graciousspitde trickle; every starlesschest longs above. 'The moon has her cturlyard, and the courtyard has its mooncalves;to everything,however,that comesfrom
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:THIRD PART 289 the court, the beggarlymob and all serviceablebeggar'I serve, you serve, we serve'-thus all vhtue pray. serviceablevirtue prays to the prince, that the deserved star may ffnally be pinned on the narrow chest 'The moon, however, still revolvesaround all that is earthly: So too the prince still revolves around ttrat which is earthliest-but that is the gold of the shop. keeper. The God of Hosts is no god of gold bars; the prince proposes,but the shopkeeperdisposes. 'By everything in you that is bright and strong and good, O Zarathustra,spit on this crty of shopkeepers and turn backl Here all blood flows putrid and lukewann and spumythrough all the veins; spit on the great city which is the great swill room where all the swill spumestogether. Spit on the city of compressedsouls and nanow chests,of popeyesand sticky ffngers--on the crty of the obtrusive, the impuden! the scribbleand scream-throats,the overheatedambitious-conceited -where everything inftrm, infamous, lusdul, d*ky, overmusty,pussn and plotting putre0es together: spit on the great city and tum backl" Here, however, Zarathustraintemrpted the foaming foo!--andput his hand over the foolf mouth. "Stop it Iastl" cried Zarathustra;"your speechand your manner have long nauseatedme. Why did you live near the swampssg_long,until you yourself have becomea frog and a toad? Does not putrid, spumy swamp-bloodfow through your own veins now that you have learned to croak and revile thus?Why have you not gure into the woodsPOr to plow the soil?Doesnot tle seaaboundin green _islands?_ I despise yoru deqpising; and if you warned me, why did you not warn yourself? 'Out of love alone shall my despisingand my. warning bird fly up, not out of the swamp.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 290 you my ape, you foaming fool; but I call call "fhuy you my grunting swine: with your gruntingyou spoil for me my praiseof folly. What was it that ffrst made you grunt?That nobody fattered you suftciently; you sat down to this ftlth so as to have reasonto grunt much -to have reasonfor much rcoenge,For all your foaming is revenge,you vain fool; I guessedit well. "But your fool's words injure me, evenwhere you are right. And even if Zarathustra'swords uere a thousand times righg sfrll yw would always do wrong with my words." Thus spokeZarathustra;and he looked at the gre_at city, sighed,and long remainedsilent. At last he spoke by this greatcity too, and not only thus: "I am nauseated by this fool. Here as there, there is nothing to better, nothingto worsen.Woe unto this greatcityl And I wish I alreidy saw the pillar of ftre in which it will be burned. For such pillars of ffre must precedethe great noon.But this hasits own time and its own destiny. *This doctrine,however,I give you, fool, as a parting present:where one can no longer love, there one should 'passby." Thus spokeZarathusba,and he passedby the fool and the geat city. ON APOSTATES I
Alas, all lies withered and gray that but recently stood green and colorful on this meadow.And how much ['oneyof hopeI canied from hereto my beehivest Theseyoung heaits have all becomeold already-and not even old; only weary, ordinary, and comfortable. 'We have becomepious again." Tlrey put it,
THIRD PART 291 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Only recently I saw them nrn out in the moming on bold fiet: but the feet of their thirst for knowledgehave grown weary, and now they even slander the courago they had in the morning. Verily, many among them once lifted their legs like dancers, cheered by the laughterin my wisdom;then they thoughtbetter of it. Jus[ now I saw one groveling.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
blow amongtheseleaves,O Zarathustra,that everything wilted may run away from you even fasterl 2 1Me have become pious again'-so these apostates confess;and some among them are even too cowardly to confess it. Those I look in the eye, and then I say it to their faces and to their blushing cheeks: you are such as pray again. But it is a disgrace to pray! Not for everybody, but for you and me and whoever else has a conscienccin his head too. For Vou it is a disgrace to prayl You know it well: your cowardly devil within you, who would like to fold his hands and rest his hands in his lap and be more comfortable-this cowardly devil urges you, "There rs a God." With this, however, you belong to the light-shunning kind who cannot rest where there is light; now you must daily bury your head deeper in night and haze. And verily, you chose the hour well, for just now the nocturnal birds are fying again. The hour has come for all light-shunning follq the hour of evening and rest, when they do not rest. I hear and smell it: their hour for chase and procession has come-not indeed for a wild chase, but for a tame, lame, snooping, pussyfooting, prayer-muttering chase-for a chase after soulful sneaks: all the heart's mousetraps have now been set again. And wherever I lift a curtain a little night moth rushes out. Did it perhaps squat there together with another little night moth? For every'where I smell little hidden communities; and wherever there are closets, there are new canters prayrng inside and the fog of canters. 'Let us beThey sit together long evenings and say,
THIRD PART 298 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: comeaslittle childrenagainand say'dearGodl'"-their mouthsand'stomachsuPsetby pious confectioners. Or they spend long evenings watching a cunning, spider,which preachescleverambushin$,cross-marked 'Under ness to the other spiders and teachesthus: crossesone can spin well." Or they spendthe day sitting at swampswith ffshing rods, thinking themselvesprofound; but whoeverffshes where there are no ffstr, I would not even call superffcial. Or they leam to play the harp with pious pleasurefrom a composerof songswho would like to harp himself right into the hearts of young females;for he has grown weary of old femalesand their praise. ft they leam to shudderfrom a scholarlyhalf-madman who waits in dark roomsfor the spirits to cometo hinr-so his spirit will flee completely. Or they listen to an old traveling, caviling zany,who hdslearnedthe sadnessof tonesfrom sadwinds; now he whistles after the wind and preachessadnessin sad tones. And some of them have even becomenight watchmen: nour they know how to blou' horns and to walk about at night and to awakenold things that had long gone to sleep.I heard ffve sayingsabout old things last night at the garden wall: they came from zuch ol4 saddened,dried-up night watchmen. oFor a father, he does not care enough about his c&rildren:human fathers do this better." 'He is too old. He does not care about his children at all any ms16"-1hus the other night watchman replied. 'But does he haae any children? Nobody can prove it, if he does not prove it himself. I have long wished. he would for once prove it thoroughly."
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 294 'Prove? As if he had ever proved anythingl hoof is difficult for him; he considersit tenibly importantthat one shouldhavefaith in him.' 'Sure! Suret Faith makeshim blessed,faith in him. That is the way of old people.We are no difierentourselves.' Thus the two old night watchmen and scareligl'rts spoke to each other and then tooted sadly on their horns: so it happenedlast night at the gardenwall. In me, however, my heart twisted with laughter and wanted to break and did not know whither, and sank into my diaphragm.Verily, this will yet be my death, that I shall sufrocatewith laughter when I see asses drunk and hear night watchmenthus doubting God. Is not the time Iongpastfor all suchdoubtstoo?Who may still awakensuch old sleeping,Iight-shunningthings? For the old gods,after all, thingscameto an end long ago; and verily, they had a good gay godlike end. They did not end in a'trvilight," thoughthis lie is told. Into death.That stead:one day they laughedthemselves happenedwhen the mostgodlessword issuedfrom one of the godsthemselves-theword: "There is one god. Thou shalt have no other god before mel" An old grimbeard of a god, a iealousone,thus forgot himself.And then all the godslaughedand rockedon their chairsand cried, "fs not just this godlike that there are gods but no God?" He that has earsto hear, let him hearl Thus Zarathustradiscoursedin the town whicb he loved and which is also called The Motley Cow. For from here he had only two more days to go to reach his craveand his animalsagain; but his soul iubilated continuallybecauseof the neamessof his return home.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 29d THE
NETURN
IIOME
O solituilet O my home, solitudel Too long have I lived wildly in wild strangeplacesnot to rehrn home !o you in tears. Now you may threaten me with your ffnger, as_mothersthreaten; now you may smile at me, asmotherssmile;now you may sayto me! 'And who was it that, like a storm, once stormed away from me? Who shouted in parting, 'Too long I have sat with solitude; I have forgotten how to be silentl'That, I suppose,you haveleamedagainnow?O Zarathusba, I know everything. Also that you werc more forsakenamong the many, being onel than ever with me. To be forsakenis one thing, to be loneh another: that you havelearnednow. And that amongmen you will always seem wild and strange-wild and strangeeven when they love you; for above all things they want considerctlut. oHere, however, you are in your own home and house; here you can talk freely about everything and pour out all the reasons;nothing here is asharnedof obscure,obduratefeelings.Here all things comecaressingly to your discourseand flatter you, for they want to ride_on your back. On gvery parable you ride to errery truth. I{ere you may talkfairly and frankly to all thingi: and veriln it rings in their earslike praise when somebody talks straight to all things. 'To be forsaken,however, is another matter. Fordo you still remember,Zarathusha?When your bird cried high aboveyou, when you stoodin the forest,undecided where to turn, ignorant, near a comse-when you said, 'May my anim-alslead met I fouid it more dangerousto be among men than among gnimds'-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 290 then you were forsakenl And do you still remember, Zarathustra?When you sat on your island, a well of wine amongempty pails, spendingand expending,bestowingand fowing amongthe thirsty, until ffnallyyou 'Is sat thirsty amongdrunks and complainedby night, it not moreblessedto receivethan to give, and to steal still more blessedthan to receive?'-then you were forWhen saken!And do you still remember,Zarathustra? away you drove came and yoyryour stillesthour 'Speak _fr_om and break!'ielf, speakingin an evil whisper, when it made you repent all your waiting and silence and discouragedyour humble courage-then you were forsaken." O solitudelO my home,solitudelHow happily and tenderlyyour voice speaksto mel We do not question each other, we do not complain to eachother, we often walk together through open doors. For where you are' and bright; and the hours too walk on things are open -here. For in darkness,time weighs_more tighier feet heavily on us than in the light. Here the words and word-ihrines of all being open uP before me: here all being wishes to becomeword, all becomingwishes to learn from me how to speak. Down there, howevei all speechis in vain. Therb, forgetting and passingby are the best wisdom: that I have learned now. He who would grasp everything human would have to grapple with everything. But for that my handsare too clean,I do not evenwant to inhale their breath; alas,ttrat I lived so long amongtheir noisesand vile breathl O happy silerrcearound mel O clean srnellsaround mel Oh, how this silencedraws deep breaths of clean airt Oh, how it listens,this happy silencel But down there everyonetalls and no one listens.
THIRD PART 297 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: bells: the shop with You could ring in your wisdom it with outjingle would market place keepersin the pennies. Everyoneamongthem talks; no one knows how to understandany more. Everythingfalls into t}re water, nothing falls into deep wells any longer. Everyone among tliern talksi nothing tums out well any more and is ffnished.Everyonecackles;but who fill wants to sit quietly in the nest and hatch eggs? Everyone among them talks; everything is talked to pieces.And what evenyesterdaywas still too hard for time itself and its tooth, today hangs,spoiled,by scraping and gnawing, out of the mouths of the men of today. Everyone among them talks; everything is behayed. And what was once called the secretind the secrecyof deep souls today belongsto the sheet brimpeters and other butterflies. Otr, everything human is strange, a noise on dark streetstBut now it lies behind me again: my greatest danger lies behind mel Considerationand pity have ever been my greatest dangers,and everythinghumanwantsconsiderationand pity. With concealedtrutls, with a fool's hands and a fond, foolish heart and a wealth of the little lies of pity: thus I alwaysliraedamongmen. DisguisedI sat among them, ready to mistake myself that I might endure 'You fool, you do them, and willingly ur$ng m1'self, not know men." One forgets about men when one lives among men; there is too much foregroundin all men: what good are far-sighted,far-seekingeyesthere?And wheneverthey mistookme, I, fool that I am, showedthem more consideration than mpelf, being used to hardnessagainst
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 298 myself, and often I even took revengeon myself for being too considerate.Coveredwith the bites of poisonous flies and hollowedout like a stoneby many drops of malice,thus I sat amongthem, and I still reminded 'Everything small is innocentof its smallness." myself, 'the good" I Especially those who call themselves found to be the most poisonousftes: they bite in all innocence,they Ue in all innocence;how could they possiblybe just to me?Pity teachesall who live among the goodto lie. Pity surroundsall free soulswith musty air. For the stupidity of the goodis unfathomable. To conceal myself and my wealth, that I learned dorvn there; for I have found everyonepoor in spiril The lie of my pity was this, that I knew I could seeand smell in everyonewhat was spirit enoughfor him and what was too much spirit for him. Their stiff sagesJ called them sagacious,not stifi; thus I learnedto swal' lorv words. Their gravediggers-I called them researchers and testers;thus I leamed to changewords. The gravediggersdig themselvessick; under old nrbbish lie noxiousodors.One should not stir up the morass.One should live on mountains. With happy nostrils I again breathe mountain freedom. At lasl my nose is deliveredfrom the smell of by everything human. Tickled by the shalp air "l and jubilates spat'iclingwines, my soul sneezes-sneezes to itself: Gesutdheitl Thus spokeZarathustra. ON TIIE
TIINEE
EVILS
I
In a dream, in the last dream of the morning, I stood in the foothills today-beyond the world, held scales,
THIRD PART 299 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: and weighed the world. Alas; the iealous-dawn came too early and glowed me awakel Sheis always iealous of my glowing moming dreams. Meas-urable-byhim-who has time, weighableby a good weigher,reachableby strongwings,guessable-by diuine nutc.ackersrthus my dream found the worldmy dream, a bold sailor, haU ship, half -hurricane, tabiturn as butterfies, impatient as falcons: how did it have the patienceor the time to weigh the world? Did my wisdom secretlyurge it, my laughingr-wide-awake div-wisdom which mocls all'inftnite worlds'? For it speaks,'Wherever there is fote, rumber will become mistress:she hasmore force.' How surely my dream lookedupon this ffnite worl4 not inquisitively, not acquisitively,not afraid, not beg' ging, ai if a full apple ofiered itself to my haqd, a rigg golden apple with cool, soft, velvet skin, thus the world ofiered ilself to me; as if a tree waved to me, broad' branched, strong-willed, bent as a support, even as a footstoolfor one weary of his way, thus the world stood foothills: as if delicatehands carried a shrine to' mv foothills; on my me, a shrine open for the delight of bashful' ward acloringeyes,thus the world offered itself to me today; not riddle enough to .trighten away human love, not solution enough to put to sleep human wisdom: a humanly good tbing the world was to me today, though one speaksso much evil of it. How shall I thank my moming dream that I thus weighed the world this morning? As a humanly good thing it came to me, this &eam and heart-ctmforter. And to imitate it by day and to learn from it what was best in it, I shall now place the three most evil things on the scalesand weigh them humanly well. IIe that taught to blessalso taught to curse;what are the threo
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
best cursedthings in the worldPI shall put them on the scaleg Ser, the hx n dq selfuhness:thesethree have so far been best cursedand worst reputed ancllied about; thesethree I will weigh humanly well Well then, bere are my foothills and there the sea: that rolls toward me, shaggy,flattering, the faithful old. hundred-headedcanine monsterthat I love. Well then" here I will hold the scalesover the rolling sea; and a witness I choose too, to look on-yorg solitary tree' fragrant and broad-vaulte4 that I love, On what bridge doesttre presentpassto the future? By what compulsiondoesthe higher compelitself to the lower? Anil what bids even the highest grow still higher? Now tle scalesare balancedand still three weighty questionsI threw on ig three weiglty answersbalance the other scale. I
Sex: to all hair-shirted despisersof the body, their thorn and stake, and cursed as "world" among all the afterworldly becauseit mocls and fools all teachersof error and confusion. Sex: for the rabble, ihe slow ffre on which they are burned; for all worm-eatenwood and all stinking rags, the ever-readyrut and oven. Sex: for free hearts, innocent and free, the garden happinessof the earth"the future's exuberantgratitude to dre present Sex: only for the wilted, a sweetpoison;for &e lionwilled, however,the great invigoration of the heart and ttre reverently reservedwine of wines. Sex: the happiness that is the great parable of a
higher happinessand the highest hope. For to many is
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:TIIIRD PART 801 maniage promlsed,and more than marriage-to many who are strangerto each other thaa man and woman And who can wholly comprehendhorostrangeman and woman are to each other? Sex-but f want to have fencesaround my thoughts and even around my words, lest swine and swooners break into my gardenl The lust to rule: the scaldingscourgeof the hardest among the hardhearted; the hideous torture that is savedup for the cruelest;the dark fame of fiving pyres. The lust to rule: the maliciousgadfly imposedon the nainestpeoples;the mockerof all uncertainvirtues; tho rider on everyhorseand everypride. The lust to rule: the earthquake that breals and breaks open everything worm-eaten and hollow; the nrmbling, grumbling punisher that breaksopen whited sepulchers;the lightning-like questionmark besidepremature answers. The lust to rule: before whose glancesman crawls and ducl$ and slaves and becomeslowe than snake and swine, until finally the great contemptcries out of hin. The lust to nrle: the terrible teacherof the great contempL who preachesoawaywith you" to the very faces of cities and empires,until it ffnally cries out of them 'Away themselveg with mef The lust to rule: which, bowever, also ascendsluringly to.$e pure and lonely and up to self-suftcient heights,glowing like a love that luringly paints crimson fulffllments on earthly skies. The lust to rule--$ut who would call it lusl when what is high longs downward for power? Verily, there is nothing diseasedor lustful in such longing and eondescendi"B.That the lonely heights should not remain
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 302 lond and self-suficient etemally; that the mountain should descend to the valley and the winds of the height to the low plains--oh, who were to ffnd the right namefor suchlonglng?'Gift-giving virtue'-thus Tanthustra oncenamedthe unnamable. Antl at that time it also happenetl'--antl verily, it bappenedfor the ffrst time-that his word pronounced seiishnessblessed,the wholesome,healthy selffshness that wells from a powerful soul-from a powerful soul to which belongsthe high body, beautiful, triumphant refreshing,around which everything becomesa mirror -the supple,persuasivebody, the dancerwhoseparaselfble ancl-epitomeis the self-enioyingsoul. The 'virtue.' enloymentbf such bodiesand soulscalls itself With its words about good and bad, such self-enjop ment screensitself as with sacred groves; with the Damesof its happinessit banishesfrom its presenoe whateveris contemptible.From its presenceit banishes whatever is cowardly; it says: bad-that dscowardlyl Contemptibleto its mind is anyonewho alwaysworries, sighs,is miserable,and also anyonewho pickg uP even tfe smallest advantages.It also despisesall wisdom ftat wallows in grief; for verily, there is also wisdom that blooms in the dark, a nightshadowisdom, wbich always sighs: all is vain Shy rrisaust it holds in low esteeq, alsg anyoneyho wants oathsinsteadof eyesand hands; also all wisdom that is all-too-mistrustful, for that is the manner of cowardly souls. In still lower esteemit holds the subservient, the doglike, who imme&ately lie on their bacls, the humble; and there is wisdom'too that is humble and doglike and pious and subservient.Altogether hateful and nauseatingit ffnds thosewho never Ifier resistance,who swdlovipoisonous spittle and evil
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:THIRD PART 30S glances,the all-too-patien! all-zuffering, always satisffed; for that is servile. Whether one be servile before gods and gods'kicks or before men and stupid men's opinions-whatever fu servile it spits on, thiJblessed selfrshness. Bad: that is what it calls everything that is sorely stooped anil sordidly servile,unfree blink-eyes,oppressedhearts,and that false neldi"g manner that kisseswitb wide conrardly lips. And shamwisdom: that is what it calls the would-be wit of the servile and old and weary, and especiallythe whole wicked, nitwitted, witless foolishnessof priests Ihe sham-wise,however--all the priests, the worldwearry,and all those whose souls are womanish and servile
TIIE
SPINIT
()3
GRAYITT
I
My tongue is of the people: I speaktoo crudely and heartily for Angorarabbits. And rry speechsoundsenen stranger to all ink-fth and pen-hacks
TTIE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 904 a fool's hand: beware,all tablesand walls hand is My and whatever else still ofrer room for foolish frill or scribbling skill. My foot is a cloven foot; with it I trample and tmt orrersticksand stones,crisscross,and I am happy as the devil while running so fast My stomactr-is it an eagle'sstomach?For it likes lamb best of all. Certainly it is the stomach of some bird. Nourishedon innocent things and on little, ready and impatient to fly, to fly ofi-that happensto be my way: how could there not be somethingof the bird's way in tbat? And aboveall, I am an enemyof the spirit d gravity, that is the birds way-and verily, e s\roin €nerny, archenemn primordial enemy. Oh, where has nd my enmity flown and misfown in the past? Of that I could well sing a song-and will srngil although I an alone in an empty hor-rsean'dmust singi it to my own e.rrs.There are other singers,of coursg whosetbroats are mademellov, whosehandsare made talkative, whoseeyesare madeexpressive,whosehea,rts are avrakened,only by a packed boue. But I am not lile those-
men to fty witl havc He wbo uril} me a"y i** rroved all bmudary stoneg tle boundary stonesthernselveswill fly up into the air before him, and he wi[ rebaptizethe eartlr-'the [ght one." The ostrich runs faste,t than tbe fastest horse, but evenhe buries his head gravely in tle graveearth; even so, the man who has not yet learned to fy. Earth and Me seemgrave to him; and thus the spirit of gravity wants it. But wboever would becomelight and a biril nust hve himself: thus f teach. Not, to be sure, with the hve of the wilting amd
THUS SPOKEZARATIIUSTRA:THIRD PART 805 wasfing: for among tfiose erren selfJove sfinks. One must learn to lwe oneself-thus I teacb*ith a wholo sorneand healthy love, so that one can bear to be with oneself and need not roam. Such roaming baptizes it.love of the neighbor': with this phrasethe best lies self and hypocrisieshave been peqpetratedso far, and especi"lly by suchaswere a graveburden for all the world. And verily, this is no command for today and tomorro% to learn to love oneself. Rather, it is of all arts the subtlest, the most cunning, the ultimate, and the most patient For whatever is his own is well con' cealed from tlle ou/ner; and of all treastrres,it is our ovrn that we dig up last: thus the spirit of gavity orders it We are presentedwith grave words and values al'good" most from the cradle: and "evil" this gift is called. For its sakewe are for$ven for living. And thereforeone sufierslittle children to comeunto one-in order to forbid them betimes to love thenr selves: thus the spirit of gravity orders iL And we-we carry faithfully what one gives us to bear, on hard shouldersand over rough mountains.And should.we snreat we are told: 'Yes, life is a gave burden." But only man is a grave burden for hirnselfl That is becausehe carries on his shoulderstoo much that is alien to him. Like a camel,he kneelsdown and lets himself be well loaded. Especially the strong, reverent spirit that would bear much: he loads too many alien grave words and values on himself, and then life seemsa desert to him. And verily, much that is our onpnis aho a grave burdenl And much that is inside man is like an oyst€r: nauseatingand slippely and hard to grasp, so that a noble shell with a noble embellishrnentmust plead for it But this art too one must learn: to luoe e shell and
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 306 sheen and shrewd blindness. Moreover, one is shiny deceivedabout many things in man becausemany a shell is shabby and sad and altogethertoo much shell. Much hidden graciousnessand sbength is never guessed;the most exquisitedelicaciesfind no tasters. Women know this-the most exquisitedo: a little fatter, a little slimmer-oh, how much destiny lies in so Iittlel Man is hard to discover-hardest of all for himself: often the spirit lies about the soul. Thus the spirit of gravity ordersit. He, however,has discoveredhimself who says,'This is mg gmd and evil"; with that he has reducedto silencethe mole and dwarf who say,'Good for all, evil for all.' Veriln I also do not like thosewho considereverything good and this world the best. Sueh men I call which knowshow Omni-satisfaction, the omni-satisffed. to taste everything, that is not the best taste. I honor the recalcitrant choosy tongues and stomachs,which 'yes' and 'no.' But to have Iearned to say "I" and chew and digest everything-that is truly the swinet manner.Always to bray Yea-Yuh-that only the asshas learned,and whoeveris of his spirit. Deep yellow and hot red: thus mV tastewants it; it mixes blood into all cplors. But whoever whitewashes his housebetays a whitewashedsoul to me. Somein love with mummies,the others with ghosts,and both alike enemiesof all flesh and blood
THIRD PART 807 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: did not want to love and yet it wanted to live on love. CursedI call all who have only one choice:to become evil beastsor evil tamers of beasts;amongsuch men I would not build my home. Cursed I call those too who must always unit; they ofiend my taste: all the publicansand shopkeepersand lcings and other land- and storekeepen.Verily, I too havl learnetl to wait-thoroughly-but only to wait for mgself.And above all I learnedto stand and walk and run and iump and climb and dance.This, however,is my doctrinerhe who would learn to fly one day must ffrst learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance: one carnot fly into fying. With rope ladders I have learned to climb to many a window; with swift legsI climbedhigh masts;and to sit on high mastsof lsnowledgeseemedto me no small happiness:to flicker like smafi flameson high masts-a small light only and yet a great comfort for shipwreckedsailon and castaways. By many ways, in many ways, I reachedmy truth: it was not on one ladder that I climbed to the height where my eye roamsover my distance.,And it was only reluctantly that I ever inquired about the way: that always ofiended my taste. I prefened to question and try out the ways themselves. A ttllng and questioningwas my every move; and verily, one must also learn to answersuch questioning. That, however,is my tast+not good,not bad, butmy taste of which I am no longer ashamedand which I have no wish to hide. 'This is mV wayt where is yours?'-thus I answered 'the way." For the way-that does thosewho askedme not exist. Thus spoke Zarathustra.
308
TTIE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE OLD
AND
NEW
TABLETS
I
Here I sit and wait, surrounded by broken old tablets and new tablets half covered with writing. When will my hour come? The hour of my going down and going under; for I want to go among men once more. For that I am waiting now, for first the signs must come to me that my how has come: the laughing lion with the flock of doves. Meanwhile I talk to myself as one who has time. Nobody tells me anything new3 so I tell myseU-myself. ,,, When I came to men I found them sitting on an old conceit: the conceit that they have long known what is good and evil for man. All talk of virtue seemed an old and weary matter to man; and whoever wanted to sleep well still talked of good and evil before going to sleep. I disturbed this sleepinesswhen I taught: what is good and evil no one knous yef, unless it be he who creates. He, however, creates man's goal and gives the earth its meaning and its future. That anything at all is good and evil-that is his creation. And I bade them overthrow their old academic chairs and wherever that old conceit had sat; I bade them laugh at their great masters of virtue and saints and poets and world-redeemers. I bade them laugh at their gloomy sagesand at whoever had at any time sat on the tree of life like a black scarecrow. I sat down by their great tomb road among cadavers and vultures, and I laughed at all their past and its rotting, decaying
glory.
THIRD PART 809 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Verily, like preachers of repentance and fools, L raised a hue and cry of wrath over what among ttrem is great and small, and that their best is still so small. And that their greatest evil too is still so smal!'-at that I laughed. My wise longing cried and laughed thus out of me -f9ry1 in the mountains,veriln a wild wisdom
810
THE PORTADLE NIETZSCHE
3 There it was too that I picked up the word 'overman' by the way, and that man is somethingthat must be overcome-that man is a bridge and no end: proclaiming himself blessed in view of his noon and, evening,as the way to new dawns-Zarathustra's word of the great noon, and whatever else I hung up over man like the last crimson light of evening. VeriV, I also let them seenew starsalong with new nights; and over cloudsand day and night I still spread out laughter as a colorful tent. I taught thern all rng creating anclstriving, to create and carry together into One what in man is fragment and riddle and dreadfulaccident;as creator,guesserof riddles, and redeemerof accidents,I taught them to work on the future and to redeemwith their creation all that has been. To redeemwhat is past in man and ''fhus *it I to re-createall was" until the will says, willed itlThus I shallwill it"-this I calledredemption and this alone I taught them to call redemption. Now I wait for my own redemptiorr-that I may go to them for the last time. For I want to go to men oncemore; under their eyesI want to go under; dy-t.t& I want to give them my richest gift. From the sun I learned this: when he goes down, overrich; he pours gold into the sea out of inexhaustibleriches, so that even the poorestffshermanstill rows with golden oars. For this I once saw and I did not tire of my tears as I watched it. Uke the sun,Zarathustratoo wants to go under; now he sits here and waits, surroundedby broken old tablets and new tablets half coveredwith writing.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 811
4 Behold, here is a new tablet; but where are my brothers to carry it down with me to the valley and into heartsof fesh? Thus my great Iove of the farthest demandsit: do not spare gour neighborl Man is somethingthat must be overcome. There are many ways of overcoming3see to that you'telf! But only a jester thinks: "Man can also be skippedooer," Overcome yourself even in your neighbor: and a right that you can rob you shouldnot acceptas a gift. \\'hat you do, nobodycan do to you in turn. Behold, there is no retribution. He who cannot commandhimself should obey. And many can commandthemselves,but much is still lacking beforethey also obey themselves. 5 This is the mannerof noble soulsrthev do not want to haveanythingfor nothing;leastof all, life. Whoever is of the mob wants to live for nothing; we others, however, to whom life gave itself, we always thinlc about what we might best give in return. And veriln that is a noble speechwhich says,'What life promises us, we ourselveswant to keep to life." One shall not wish to enjoy where one doesnot give ioy. And oneshallnot nnslrto enjoy!For enjoymentand innocencearethe mostbashfulthings:both do not want to be sought One shall possessthem-but rather ceelc even guilt and suffering.
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THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
6 My brothers, the ffrstling is always sacriffced.We, however,are ffrstlings.All of us bleed at secretsacriffcial altars; all of us burn and roast in honor of old idols. What is bestin us is still young: that attractsold palates.Our flesh is tender,our hide is a mere lambEoen skin: how could we fail to attractold idol-priests? im wrselaes the old idol-priest still lives who roasts what is bestin us for his feast.Alas,my brothers,how could lirstlingsfail to be sacriffces? But thus our kind wantsit; and I love thosewho do Thosewho are going not want to preservethemselves. under I love with my whole love: for they crossover. 7 To be true-only a few are able! And thosewho are still lack the will. But the good have this ability least of all. Oh, thesegoodmenl Goodmen neoerxpeakthe truth; for the spirit, to be goodin this way is a disease. They give in, thesegood men; they give themselvesup; their heartrepeatsand their groundobeysrbut whoever heedscommandsdoesnot heed himself. Everythingthat the goodcall evil mustcometogether so that one truth may be bom. O my brothers, are you evil enoughfor this truth? The audaciousdaring, the long mistrust,the cruel No, the disgust,the cutting into the living-how rarely doesall'this cometogether.But from such seedis truth begotten. all sciencehasgrown Alongsidethe bad conscience, so far. Break, break, you lovers of knowledge,the old tabletst
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART glg I When the water is spannedby planks,when bridges and railings leap over the river, verily, thoseare not believed who say, 'Everything is in fux.' Even the blockheadscontradictthem.*How now?"saythe blockheads."Everythingshouldbe in fux? Aftei all, planks and railings are ooer the river. Whateveris ooar the river is ffrm; all the valuesof things, the bridges,the concepts,all 'goodf and 'evil'-all that is frm." But when the hard winter comes,the river-animal tamer,then even the most quick-rvittedlearn mistrust; and verily, not only the blockheadsthen say,'Does not everything stand still?' "At bottom everythingstandsstill"-that is truly a winter doctrine,a good thing for sterile times, a ffne comfort for hibernatorsand hearth-squatters. "At bottom everythingstandsstill"jagoinsf this the thawing wind preaches.The thawing wind, a bull that is no plowing bull, a raging bull, a destroyerwho breaksthe ice with wrathful homs. fce, however,breolcs brtdgesl O my brothers, is not everything in fux nou? Have not all railingsand bridgesfallen into the water?Who could still cling to "good' and "evill'? "Woe to ust Hail to ust The thawingwind blowsl'thus preach in every street, my brothers. 9 There is an old illusion, which is called good and evil. So far the wheel of this illusion has revolvedaround soothsayers and stargazers. Oncemanbelievedin soothsayersand stargazers,and thereforebelieved: 'All is destinyr you ought to, for you must.' Then man againmistrustedall soothsayers and star-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 314 'AIl is freedom: you gaze$, and therefore believed: can, for you will." O my brothers,so far there have been only illusions about starsand the future, not knowledge;and therefore there have been only illusions so far, not knowledge, about good and evil. 1()
'Thou shalt not robl Thou shalt not killl' Suchwords were oncecalledholy; onebent the kneeand headand took off onet shoesbeforethem. But I ask you: where have there ever been better robbersand killers in this workl than such holy words? fs there not in all life itself robbing and killing? And that such words were called holy-was not truth itself killed thereby? Or was it the preachingof death that was calledholy, which contradictedand,contravenedall life? O my brothers,brealc,break the old tabletsl 11
This is my plty for all that is past: I seehow all of it is abandoned-abandonedto the pleasure,the spirit, the madnessof every generation,which comesalong and reinterpretsall that has been as a bridge to itself. A great despotmight comealong, a shrewdmonster who, according to his pleasureand displeasure,might constrain and sbain all that is past till it becomesa bridge to him, a harbinger and herald and cockcmw. This, however,is the other dangerand what prompts my fu*her pity: whoeveris of the rabble, thinks back as far as the grandfather; with the grandfather, however, time ends. Thus all that is past is abandoned:for one day the rabble might become master and drown all time in shallow waters.
THIRD PART gl5 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Thereforg my brothers,e new nobilfty is neededto be the adversaryof all rabble and of all that is despotic end to write anew upon new tablets the word "noble." For manywho are nobleare needed,and noblemen of many kinds, that there may be a nobility. Or as I once said in a parable: "Preciselythis is godlike that there are gods, but no God." t2
O my brothers,I dedicateand direet you to a new nobility: you shall becomeprocreatorsand cultivatorc and sowersof the future-verily, not to a nobility that you might buy like shopkeepersand with shopkeepers' gold: for whateverhas its price haslittle value. Not whence you come shall henceforth constitute your honor, but whither you are goingt Your will and your foot which has a will to go over and beyondyourselves-that shall constitute your new honor. Verily, not that you have ierved a prince-what do princes matter now?
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 816 ward but aheadtExilesshall you be from all father- and forefatherJandst Your chiWren's latd. shall you love: this love shall be your new nobility-the undiscovered land in the most distant sea.For that I bid your sails searchand search. In your children you shall make up for being the childrenof your fathers:thus shall you redeemall that is past. This new tablet I place over you. r3 'Why live? All is vanity! Living-that is threshing straw; living-that is consumingoneselfin fameswithout becomingwarm." Suchantiquarianbabblingis still considered"wisdom'; it is honored all the more for being old and musty. Mustinesstoo ennobles. Children might speak thus: they fear the ffre because it burned them. There is much childishnessin the old booksof wisdom.And why shouldthosewho 'thresh strau)" allowed to blasphemethreshalways be ing? Such oxen should be muzzled after all. Such men sit down to the table and bring nothing along, not even a good appetite; and then they blaspheme: "All is vanity." But eating and drinking well' O my brothers,is verily no vain art. Brealg break the old tablets of the never gayt 74 'To the cleanall is clean,"the peoplesay.But I say unto you, "To the mean all becomesmean." Therefore the swoonersand head-hangers,whose hearts also hang limply, preach, "The world itself is a fflthy monster." For all thesehave an unclean spiritbu! especiallythose who have neither rest nor rePose qrcept when they seethe world from aboft, the altev worldly. To these I say to their faces, even though it
THIRD PART 817 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: man in having like sound nice: world is may not the a backside abaft; that much is true. There is much fflth in the world; that much is true. But that doesnot make the world itself a filthy monster. There is wisdom in this, that there is much in the world that smellsfoul: nauseaitself createswings and water-diviningpowers.Even in the best there is still and even the best is somesomethingthat nauseates; thing that must be overcome.O my brothers,there is much wisdom in this, that there is much filth in the world. 15 Such maxims I heard pious afterworldly people speakto their conscience-verily, without treacheryor falseness,although there is nothing falser in the whole world, nothing more treacherous: 'Let the world go its wayl Do not raise one ffnger againstitl' "Let him who wants to, strangleand stab and feece and flay the people. Do not raise one ffnger againstitt Thus will they learn to renouncethe world." "And your own reason-you yourself should stife and strangle it; for it is a reasonof this world; thus will you yourself learn to renouncethe world." Break, break, O my brothers,theseold tablets of the pious. Break tlle maxims of those who slander the world. r6 '\Mhoever learnsmuch will unleam all violent desire" -that is whisperedtoday in all the dark lanes. 'Wisdom makes weary; worth while is-nothing; thou shalt not desiret"-this new tablet I found hanging even in the open market places.
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THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Break, O -y brothen, break this nerp tablet too. The world-weary hung it up, and the preachers of death, and also the iailers; for behold, it is also an exhortation to bondage. Becausethey learned badln and the best things not at all, and everythingtoo e11ly and everything too hastily; because they ate badln therefore they got upset stomachs;for their spirit is an upset stomach-which counselsdeath. For v94yt *y biothers, the spirit tis a stomach.I,rfe is a well of ioy; but for those out of whom an uPset stomachspeaks, which is the father of melancholy,all wells are poisoned. To gain knowledge is a foy for the lion-willetll But those who have becomeweary are themselvesmerely being'willed,'and all the billowsplay with them. And on this il alwaysthe mannerof the weak: they get lost 'Why the way. And in the end their wearinessstill asks, did wi ever pursue any \ilay at all? It is all the same." 'Nothing is worth Their earsafpreciate the pieaching, whilel You shall not willl' Yet this is an exhortationto bondage. O my brothers,like a fresh roaring wind Zarathusba comesio all who are weary of the way; many noseshe will yet makesneeze.Through walls too,,my free breath blows, and into prisonsand imprisonedspirits. To will liberates,for to will is to create: thus I teach. And you shall learn solely in order to create. And you shaf ffrst learn from me how to learehow to learn well. He that has earsto hear, let him hearl t7 There standsthe bark; over there perhapsthe great nothing lies. But who would embarkon this"perhaps"? No onI of you -do wants to embark on t}re bark of death. you want to be world-weary? WorldWhy then weary! And yori are not even removedfrom the earth.
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 819 Lusting after the earth I have always found you; in Iove even with your own earth-weariness.Not for nothing is your lip hanging; a little earthly wish still sits on it. And in your eyes4oes not a little cloud of unforgottenearthly joy foat there? There are many good inventionson earth, someuseful, some pleasing: for their sake, the earth is to be loved. And there is such a variety of well-invented things that the earth is like the breastsof a woman: useful as well as pleasing. But you who are world-weary, you who are eartb lazy, you shouldbe lashedwith switches:with lashes one should make your legs sprightly again. For when you are not invalidsand decrepitwretchesof whom the earth is weary, you are shrewd slothsor sweet-toothed, sneakypleasure-cats. And if you do not want to run again with pleasure then you should pass away. To the incurable, one should not try to be a physiciarrthus Zarathustrateaches-so you shall pass awayl But it takes more courageto make an end than to makea new verse:all physiciansand poetsknow that r8 O my brothers,thereare tabletscreatedby weariness and tabletscreatedby rotten,rotting sloth; but though they speak alike, they must be understooddifierently. Beholdthis man languishinghere!He is but onespan from his goal, but out of wearinesshe has deffantly lain down in the dust-this courageousmanl Out of wearinesshe yawns at the way and the earth and the goal and himself: not one stepfarther will he go-this courageousman! Now the sun glows on him and the dogs lick his sweat; but he lies there in his deffance and would soonerdie of thirst--die of thirst one span alvay from his goall Verily, you rvill yet have to drag
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him by the hair into his heaven-this herol Better yet let him lie where h" l"y down, and let sleep,the comforter, cometo him with cooling, rushing rain. Let him lie till he awakesby himself, till he renouncesby himself all wearinessand whateverwearinesstaught through him. Only, my brothers,drive the dogsaway from him, the lazy creepers,and all the ravenousvermi*-all the 'educated," who feast on every raving vermin of the bero's sweaL I draw circles around T" *U sacred boundaries; fewer and fewer men climb with me on ever higher mountains:I am building a mountain range out of ever more sacredmountains But wherever you may climb with me, O *y brothers, see to it that no parasite climbs with you. Parasites:creeping, cringing worms which would batten on your secretsores.And this is their art, that they ffnd where climbing soulsare weary; in your grief and discouragement,in your tender parts, they build tleir nauseatingnests.Where the strong are weak and the noble all-too-soft-there they build their nauseatingnests:the parasiteslive where the great have little secretsores. What is the highest speciesof all being and what is the lowest?The parasiteis the lowestspecies;but whoever is of the highest specieswill nourish the most parasites.For the soul that has the longest ladder and reachesdown deepest-how should the most parasites not sit on that? The most comprehensivesoul which can run and stray and roam farthest within itself; the most necessarysoul, which out of sheerjoy plungesitself into chance; the soul which having being, dives into becoming;the soul which fras, but uants to want anil will; the soul which fleesitseUand catchesup with
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 921 itself in the widest circle; the wisestsoul,which folly exhortsmost sweetly;the soul which lovesitself most, in which all things have their sweepand countersweep and ebb and flood-oh, how should the highest soul not havethe worstparasites? 20
O my brothers,am I cruel?But I say: what is falling, we shouldstill push.Everythingtodayfalls and decays: who would check it? But l-I even want to push it. Do you know the voluptuousdelight which rolls stonesinto steep depths?Thesehuman beings of today-look at them, how they roll into my depth! I am a prelude of better players,O my brothers!A precedentlFollow my precedentl And he whom you cannot teach to fy, teach to fall fasterl 2L
I love the valiant; but it is not enoughto wield a broadsword,one must also know againstwhom. And often there is more valor when one refrainsand passes by, in order to save oneself for the worthier enemy. You shall have only enemieswho are to be hated, but not enemiesto be despised:you must be proud of your enemy;thus I taughtoncebefore.For the worthier enemy, O my friends, you shall saveyourselves;therefore you must pass by much<specially much rabble who raisea din in your earsaboutthe peopleand about peoples. Keep your eyes undeffled by their pro and conl l,here is much justice,much injustice; and whoever looks on becomesangry. Sighting and smiting here becomeone; thereforego away into the woodsand lay your sword to sleep. Go your oun wayst And let the people and peoples
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 822 go theirs-dark ways,verily,on which not a singlehope flashesany more.Let the shopkeeperrule where all that still glitters is-shopkeepers'gold. The time of kings is past: what callsitself a peopletodaydeservesno kings. they Look how thesepeoplesare now like shopkeepers: pick up the smallestadvantages from any rubbish.They lie aroundlurking and spy around smirking-and call that "being good neighbors.' O blessedremote time when a peoplewould sayto itself,"I want tobe mastet -over peoples.'For, my brothers,the bestshouldrule, the best also want to rule. And where the doctrineis difrerent,there the bestis lncking. 22
lf those got free bread, alasl For what rvould they clamor?Their sustenanc*that is what sustainstheir attention; and it should be hard for them. They are beastsof prey: in their'work" thereis still an element *earning' of preying, in their still an elementof overreaching.Thereforeit shouldbe hard for them. Thus they shouldbecomebetter beastsof prey, subtler,more prudent,motehuman;for man is the bestbeastof prey. Illan has alreadyrobbedall the beastsof their virtues, for of all beastsmanhashad the hardesttime. Only the birds are still over and abovehim. And if man were to learn to fy-woe, to what heightswould his rapacious' nessflyP 23 Thus I want man and woman:the onefft for war, the other ftt to give birth, but both fft to dancewith head and limbs. And we should considerevery day lost on which we havenot dancedat leastonce.And rveshould by at call everytruth falsewhich was not accomPanied leastone laugh.
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 328 24 Your wedlock:seeto it that it not be a bad lock. If you lock it too quickly,therefollowswedlock-breaking; than adultery.And better even such wedlock-breaking wedlock-picking,wedlock-tricking.Thus said a woman to me: "Indeed I committedadultery and broke my wedlock, but ffrst my wedlock broke me!" The worst amongthe vengefulI alwaysfound to be the ill-matched: they would makeall the world pay for it that they no longer live singly. llerefore I would have thosewho are honestsay to '\Me love eachother; let us seeto it that we eachother, remain in love. Or shall our promisebe a mistake?' 'Give us a probationand a little marriage,so that rve may seewhether we are fft for a big marriage.It is a big thing alwaysto be two." Thus I counselall who are honest;and what rvould my love for the ovennanand for all who shall yet eome amount to if I counseledand spoke difierently? Not merely to reproduce,but to producesomethinghigher -Joward that, my brotherq the garden of marriage shouldhelp you. 25 l4/hoever has gained wisdom conceming ancient origins will evenhrallylook for wells of the future and for new origins.O my brothen, it will not be overlong before new peopbs ori$nate and new wells roar down into new depths.For earthquakes bury many wells and leave many languishing, but they also bring to light inner powers and secrets. Earthquakes reveal new wells. In earthquakesthat strike ancientpeoples,new wells break open. And whoever shouts,?ehold, a well for many who
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 524 are thirsty, a heart for many who are longing, a will for that man there will gather many instrumsnfs'-slsund a people; that is: many triers. Who can command, who must obey-that is tried, wt there. Nas, with what long kials and surmises and unpleasant surprises and leaming and rebialsl Human society is a trial: thus I teach it-a long trial; and what it tries to ffnd is the commander.A trial, O my 'contract." Breal<, break this word brothers, and rwt a of the softhearted and half-and-halfl
z6 the greatestdanger my represents O brothers, who for all of man'sfuture?Is it not the good and the just? 'We alfnasmuchas they say and feel in their hearts, readyknow what is goodand just, and we have it too; woe unto thosewho still seekhere!"And whateverharm the evil may do, the harm doneby the goodis the most harmful harm. And whatever harm those do who slander the worl4 the harm done by the good is the most harmfulharm. O my brothers,one man onc€ saw into the heartsof 'They are the pharithe good and the just and said, sees.oBut he was not understood.The good and the were not permittedto understandhim: iust themselves their spirit is imprisonedin their good conscience.The stupidity of the good is unfathomably shrewd. This, however, is the truth: the good must be phariseesthey have no choice. The good mast cruci$ bim who invents his ovrn virtue. That is the tmthl The secondone, however,who discoveredtheir land -the land, heart, and soil of the good and the iust*Whom do they hate most?" The was he who asked, qeatot thev hate most: he breakstabletsand old values. He is a breaker,they call him lawbreaker.For the good
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:THIRD PART 825 arc unnbleto create;they are alwaysthe beginningof the endr they crucify him who writes new values on new tablets; they sacriffcethe future to themseloesthey crucify all mans future. The good have alwaysbeenthe be$nning of the end. e,7 have really understoodthis wordP you O my brothers, And what I oncesaid concerningthe "last marf'? Who representsthe greatestdanger for all of man's future? Is it not the good and the just?Brcak, brcak the gooil and the iust! O my brothers,have you really understood this word? zB You flee from me? You are frightened? You tremble at this word? O my brothers,when I bade you break the good and the tabletsof the good, only then did I embarkman on his high sea.And only now doesthere cometo him the great fright, the great looking-around,the great sickness,the great nausea,the great seasickness. False coasts and false assurancesthe good have taught you; in the lies of the good you were hatched and huddled. Everything hasbeenmadefraudulent and has beentwisted through and through by the good. 'marL" also disBut he who discoveredthe land coveredthe land'man's future." Now you shall be seafarers,valiant and patient. Walkupright betimes,O my brothers;learn to walk upright. The seais raging; many want to right themselvesagaipwith your help. The sea is raging; everything is in the sea.Wbll then, old sea dogsl What of fatherland? Our helm steersus toward ov child:rets latdl Out there, stormier than the sea" stonns our great longingl
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29 'Why so hard?" the kitchen coal once saitl to tbe 'After diamond. all, are we not closekin?" Why so soft? O my brothers,thus I ask )ou: are you not after all my brothersP Why so soft, so pliant and yietding?Why is there so much denial, self-denial,in your hearts?Solittle destiny in your eyes? And if you do not want to be destiniesand inexorable ones,how canyou hiumph with me? And if your hardnessdoesnot wish to fash and cut and cut through, how can you one day createwith me? For creatorsare hard. And it must seemblessedness to you to impressyour hand on millenniaas on wax, Blessedness to write on the will of millennia as on bronze-harder than bronze, nobler than bronze. Only the noblestis altogetherhard. This new tablet, O my brotherg I place over you: becornelwrdl 3o O thou my willl Thou cessationof all need,my u)n necessitylKeep me from all small victoriest Thou destination of my soul, which I call destinyl Thou in-mel Over-melKeepme and saveme for a greatdestinyl And thy last greatness,my will, saveup for thy last feat that thou mayestbe inexorablein thy victory. Alas, who was not vanquishedin his victory? Alas, whose eye would not darken in this drunken twilight? Alas, whosefoot would not reel in victory and forget how to stand? That I may one day be ready and ripe in the great noon! as ready and ripe as glowing bronze, clouds pregnant with lightning, and swelling milk udders-
THIRD PART 8ez THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: hidden will: a bow lustready for myself and my most its, star'-a star for lusting its arrow, an arrow ing for ready and ripe in its noon,glowing, pierced,enraptured by annihilating sun arrows-a sun itself and an inexorable solar will, ready to annihilate in victoryt O will, cessationof all need,my oun necessitylSave me for a great victoryl Thus spokeZarathustra. TIIE CONVALESCENT 1
One morning, not long after his return to the cave, Zarathustra jumped up from his resting place like a madman, roared in a terrible voice, and acted as if somebodyelsewere still lying on his restingplacewho refusedto get up. And Zarathustra'svoice resoundedso that his animalsapproachedin a fright, while out of all the cavesand nooks that were near Zarathustra'scave all animals fled-flfng, futtering, crawling, jumping, accordingto the kind of feet or wings that were given to them. Zarathustra,however,spokethesewords: Up, abysmal thought, out of my depthl I am your cock and dawn, sleepyworm. Upl Up! My voice shall )€t crow you awakel Unfastenthe fetters of your ears: listen! For I want to hear you. Up! Upl Here is thunder enoughto make even tombs learn'to listen. And wipe sleepand all that is purblind and blind out of your eyesl Listen to rne even with your eyes:my voice cureseven those born blind. And once you are awake, you shall remain awake eternally. It is not my way to awaken great-grandmothersfrom their sleep io bil tbem sleep on! You are stirring, stretching,wheezing?Upl Upl You shall not wheezebut speakto me. Zarathustra,the goil-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
lesg summonsyoul I, Zarathustra,the advocateof life, the advocateof sufiering, the advocateof the circle; I summonyou, my most abysmalthoughtl Hail to mel You are coming, I hear you. My abyss speaks,I have turned my ultimate depth inside out into the Ught. Hail to me! Come herel Give me your handl Huhl Let gol Huhhuhl Nausea,nausea,nausea-woe unto mel 2
No soonerhad Zarathustraspokenthesewords than he fell down as one dead and long remainedas one he waspale,and dead.But when he regainedhis senses and for a long and remained lytng there, he trernbled time he wanted neither food nor drink. This behavior lastedsevendays;but his animalsdid not leavehim by day or nigh! exceptthat the eagleflew ofi to get food. And whatever prey he got together, he laid on Zatathustra's resting place; and eventuaUyZarathustralay among yellow and red berries, grapes' rose apples, fragrant herbs, and pine cones. But at his feet two lambs lay spread ouC which the eagle had with diffi' culty robbed from theh shepherds. At last, after seven days, Zarathustraraised himself restins place, olace. took a rose apple into his hand, on his resting loveb. Then his it and found its fragrance lovely. smelled it, animalsthought that the time had cometo speakto him. 'it "O Zarathustra,-they said, is now sevendaysthat you have been lying like this with lreavy eyes; wont you at last get up on your feet again?SteP9"t of ygur cave: the wbrfti awaits you like a garden. The wind is playr"g wigh hearryfragrancesthat want to get to,you' ind a[ the brools would run after you. All things have beenlonging for you, while you haveremainedalonefor
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 829 seven days. Step out of your cave! All things would be your physicians. Has perhaps sorne new knowledge come to you, bitter and hard? Like leavened dough you have been lying; your soul rose and swelled over all its rims." "O *y animals,' replied Zarathustra, "chatter on like this and let me listen. It is so refreshing for me to hear you chattering: where there is chattering, there the world lies before me like a garden. How lovely it is that there are words and sounds! Are not words and sounds rainbows and illusive bridges between things which are eternally apart? *Io every soul there belongs another world; for every soul, every other soul is an afterworld. Precisely between what is most similar, illusion lies most beautifully; for the smallest cleft ii the hardest to bridge. should there.be any outside-myselfP "For m*how There is no outside. But all sounds make us forget this; how lovely it is that we forget. Have not names and sounds been given to things that man might ffnd things refreshing? Speaking is a beautiful follyr with that man dances over all things. How lovely is all talking, and all the deception of soundsl With sounds our love dances on many-hued rainbows." 'to "O Zarathustra," the animals said, those who think as we do, all things themselvesare dancing: they come and offer their hands and laugh and fee-and come back. Everything goes, everything comes back; eternally rolls the wheel of being. Everything dies, everything blossoms again; etemally runs the year of being. Everything breaks, everything is joined anew; eternally &e same house of being is built. Everything parts, everything greets every other thing again; eternally the ring of being remains faithful to itself. In
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 830 every Now, being begins;round every Here rolls the sphere There. The ccnter is everywhere.Bent is the path of eternity." "O you buffoonsand barrel organs!' Zarathustrareplied and smiledagain."How well l'ou knorvrvhat had to be fulfflled in sevendays, and horv that monster crawled down my throat and sufiocatedme. But I bit oft its head and spewedit out. And you, have you already made a hurdy-gurdysongof this?But norv I lie here, still weary of this biting and spewing,still sick from my own redemption.And gou watchedall tlfis?O m1'animals,are evenyou cruel?Did you want to watch my great pain as men do? For man is the cruelest animal. *At tragedies,bullffghts,and cruciftxionshe has so far felt best on earth; and when he inventedhell for himself,behold,that washis heavenon earth. "\\'hen the great man screams,the smallman comes running with his tongue hanging from lasciviousness. But he callsit his pity.' "The smallman, especiallythe poet-how eagerlyhe accuseslife with wordsl Hear him, but do not fail to hear the delight that is in all accusation.Suchaccuse$ 'Do you love me?' of life-life overcomeswith a wink. 'Wait a little while, just yet I she says impudently, have no time for you.' "\lan is the cruelest animal against himself; and 'sinner'and'cross-bearer' and w'heneverhe callshimself 'penitent,' do not fail to hear the voluptuousdelight that is in all suchlamentationand accusation. 'And I myself4o I thus want to be mans accuser? Alas, my animals,only this have I learned so far, that man needswhat is mostevil in him for what is best in hinr-that whatever is most evil is his best power and
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THTRD PART 931 the hardest stone for the highest creator; and that man must become better and more evil. "My torture was not the knowledge that man is evil -but I cried as no one has yet cried: 'Alas, that his greatest evil is so very smalll Alas, that his best is so
very small!' "The great disgust with man-fhrs choked me and had crawled into my throat; and what the soothsayer 'All is the same,nothing is worth while, knorvlsaid: edge chokes.'A long twilight limped beforeme, a sadness,weary to death, drunken with death, speaking with a yawning mouth. Eternally recurs the man of whom you are weary, the small man'-thus yawned my sadness and draggedits feet and could not go to sleep. Man s earthturnedinto a cavefor me, its chestsunken; all that is living becamehuman mold and bonesand musty past to me. It{y sighingsat on all humantombs and could no longerget up; my sighingand questioniug croaked and gagged and gnawed and wailed by day 'Alas, and night: man recurseternallylThe small man recursetemallyt' "Naked I had.onceseenboth, the greatestman ancl the smallestman: all-too-similarto eachother,eventhe greatestall-too-human. All-too-small,the greatestl-that was my disgustwith man. And the etemal recurrence even of the smallest-that was my disgust with all existence. Alas!Nausea!NausealNauseal' Thus spoke Zarathustraand sighed and shuddered, for he rememberedhis sickness.But then his animals would not let him go on. "Do not speakon, O convalescent!" thus his animals answeredhim; "but go out wherethe world awaitsvou like a garden.Go ou-tto the rosesand beesand dovecots. But especiallyto the songbirds,that you may learn
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 832 from them how to singl For singing is for the convalescent; the healthycanspeak.And when the healthyman also wants songs,he wants different songs from the convalescent." "O you buffoonsand barrel organs,be silentl'Zarathustra replied and smiled at his animals."How well you know what comfort I invented for myself in seven daystThat I mustsingagain,this comfortand convalescenceI inventedfor myself.Must you immediatelyturn this too into a hurdy-gurdysong?"Do not speakonl' his animalsansweredhim again; "rather even, O convalescent,fashion yourself a lyre ffrst, a new lyrel For behold,Zarathustra,nervly:resare neededfor your new songs.Sing and overfow, O7,arathustra; cure your soul with new songsthat you may bear your great destiny,which has neveryet been any man's destiny. For your animalsknow well, O Zarathustra, who you are and must become:behold, you arc the tercher of the eterrwl recunence-that is your destinylThat you as the ffrst must teachthis doctrinehow couldthis greatdestinynot be your greatestdanger and sicknesstoo? "Behold, we know what you teach: that all things recur etemalln and we ourselvestoo; and that we have already existed an etemal number of times, and all things with us. You teach that there is a great yeal of becoming,a monsterof a great year, which must, fike an hourglass,turn over againand againso that it may run down and run out again; and all theseyearsare alike in what is greatestas in what is smallest;and we ourselvesare alike in every great year, in what is greatestas in what is smallest. 'And if you wanted to die now, O Zarathustra"behold, we alsoknow how you would then speakto your' self. But your animals beg you not to die yet. You
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 838 would qpeak,without trembling but breathing deeply with happiness,for a great weight and sultrinesswould be takenfrom you who are most patient *'Now I die and vanish,'you 'and would san all at once I am nothing.The soul is as mortal as the body. But the knot of causesin which I am entangledrecurs and will createme again.I myselfbelongto the causes of the eternal recurrence.I come again, with this sun, with this earth, with this eagle,with this selpent-nof to a new life or a better life or a similar life: I come back eternally to this same, selfsamelife, in what is greatestasin what is smallest,to teachagainthe eternal recurrenceof all things, to speakagain the word of the great noon of earth and man, to proclaim the overman again to men. I spokemy word, I break of my word: thus my eternallot wants it; as a proclaimerI perish. The hour hasnow comewhenhewho goesundershould blesshimself.Thus endsZarathtstra'sgoing under.'When the animalshad spokenthesewords they were silent and waited for Zarathusbato say somethingto them; but Zarathustradid not hearthat theywere silent. Rather h" l"y still with his eyesclosed,Iike one sleeping, althoughhe was not asleep;for he was conversing with his soul. The se{pent, however, and the eagle, when they found him thus silent, honored the great stillnessaround him and cautiouslystole away, ON THE
CNEAT
LONGING
O my soul, I taught you to say"today" and *one day" and *formerly'' and to dance away over all Here and llhere and Yonder. O my soul, I deliveredyou from all nools; I brushed dust, spiders,and twilight ofi you. O my soul, I washed the little bashfulnessand the
g}4
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE nook-virhreofi you and persuadedyou to stand naked beforethe eyesof the sun.With the storm that is called I blew over your wavy sea; I blew all clouds away; "pitit" I evenstrangledthe shanglerthat is called "sin.' O my soul, I gave you the right to say No like tho storm,and to sayYesasthe clear sky saysYes: now you are stitl as light whether you stand or walk through storrrs of negation. O my soul, I gave you back the freedom over the created and uncreated;and who knows, as you know, the voluptuousdelight of what is yet to comeP O my soul,I taught you the contemptthat doesnot come like the worm's gnawing, the great, the loving most contemptthat lovesmostwhereit despises 0 my soul, I taught you to persuadeso well that fou persuadethe very ground-like the sun who persuades eventhe seato his own height. O my soul,I took from you all obeying,knee-bending, and'Lord"-saying; I myselfgaveyou the name"cessa-destiny." tion of need" and O my soul, I gaveyou new namesand colorful toys; *destiny" and *circumferenceof circumI called you ferences"and "umbilical cord of time' and "azurebell." O rny soul, I gave your soil all wisdom to drinlq all the new wines and also all the immemoriallyoltt strong wines of wisdom. O my soul, I powecl eve{y sun out on you, and every night and every silence and every longing: then you qrew up like a vine. O -i soul, overrich and heavy you now stand there, like a vine with swelling udders and crowded brown gold-grapes-crowded and pressedby your happiness, and still basMul about waiting in your superabundance waiting. O my soul, now there is not a soul anywherethat
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 935 would be moreloving and comprehending and compre. hensive.Where ..vouldfuture and past dwell closertogetherthan in you? O my soul, I gaveyou all, and I have emptied all my handsto you; and now-now you say to me, smiling and full of melancholn 'Which of us has to be thankful? Should not the giver be thankful that the receiver received?Is not giving a need?Is not receivingmercy?" O my soul, I understandthe smile of your melancholy: now your own overrichness stretchesout longing hands.Your fullnessgazesover roaring seasand seeks and waits; the longing of overfullnessgazesout of the smiling skiesof your eyes.And verily, O my soul, who could seeyour smile and not be melted by tears?The angelsthemselvesare melted by tears becauseof the overgraciousness of your smile.Your graciousness and overgraciousness do not want to lamentand weep; and yet, O my soul, your smile longs for tears and your trembling mouth for sobs,'Is not all weeping a lamentation?And all lamentationan accusation?" Thus you speak to yourself, and therefore, my soul, you would soonersmile than pour out your sufiering-pour out into plunging tears all your sufferingover your fullness and over the vine'surge for the vintagerand his knife. But if you will not weep,not weep out your crimson melancholy,then you will have to sing,O my soul. Be, hold, I myselfsmileas I say this beforeyou: sing with a roaring songtill all seasare silenced,that they may listen to your longing-till over silent,longingseasthe bark floats,the goldenwonder around whosegold all good,bad, wondrousthings leapalso many greatand smallanirnalsand whateverhaslight, wondrousfeet for running on paths blue as violets-toward the golden wonder,the voluntarybark and its master;but that is the vintager who is waiting with his diamond knile-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 336 your grcat deliverer, O my soul, the namelessone for whom only future songswill ffnd names.And verily, €ven now your breath is fragrant witb future songs; even now you are glowing and dreaming and drinking thirstily from all deep and resoundingwells of comfort; even now your melancholyis restingin the happinessof future songs. O my soul, now f have given you all, and even the last I had, and I have emptied all my handsto you: that I bade you sing, behold, that uas the last I had. That I bade you sing-speak now, speak:which of us has to be thankful now? Better yet, however: sing to me, sing, O my soull And let me be thankful Thus spokeZarathusta. THE
OTHEN
DANCING
SONG
I
fnto your eyesI looked recently, O life: I saw gold blinking in your nighreye; my heart stoppedin delight: a golden boat I saw blinking on nocturnalwaters,a golden rocking-boat, sinking, drinking, and winking again.At my foot, frantic to dance,you casta glance,a laughing, questioning,melting rocking-glance:twice only you stirred your rattle with your small hands,and my foot was already rocking with dancing frenzy. My heelstwitched, then my toeshearkenedto under' stand you, and rose: for the dancer has his ear in his toes. I leapedtoward you, but you fled blck from my leap, and the tongue of your fleeing, fying hair Iicked me in its sweep. Away from you I leaped,and from your serpents'ire; and alreadyyou stood there, half turned, your eyesfull of desire.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 837 With crookedglancesyou teach me-crooked ways; on crookedways my foot learnstreachery. I fearyou near, I love you far; your fight lures me, your seekingcures me: I sufier, but what would I not gladly sufferfor you? You, whose coldnessffres, whose hatred seduces, whoseflight binds, whosescorninspires: Who would not hate you, you great binder, enhviner, temptress,seeker,and ffnder?Who would not love you, you innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner? Wherbto are you luring me now, you never-tameextreme? And now you are fleeing from me again, you sweetwildcat and ingratel I dance after you, I follow wherever your traces linger. Where are you? Give me your hand! Or only one ffngerl Here are cavesand thickets;we shall get lost. Stopl Standstilll Dont you seeowls and batswhirring past? You owl! You batl Intent to confoundtWhere are we? Such howling and yelping you have leamed from a bound. Your lovely little white teeth are gnashingat me; out of a curly little maneyour evil eye$arefashing at me. That is a danceup high and down low: I am the hunter; would you be my-
THE POETABLENIETZSCHE 838 You are so terribly weary? I'll carry you there; just let your arms sink. And if you are thirsty-I have got something,but your mouthdoesnot want it to drink. Oh, this damnednimble, supplesnakeand slippery witch! Where are you? In my face two red blotches from vour hand itch. I am verily weary of alwals being your sheepish shepherd.You witch, if I have so far sungto you, now you - shall cry. Keepingtime with my whip, you shalldanceand cryt Or have I forgotten the whip? Not I! 2 Then life answered me thus, covering up her delicate
'O Zarathustra,don't crack your whip so frightears: fully! After all, you know that noisemurdersthoughtand just now suchtenderthoughtsarecomingto me.We and evil-for-nothare both two real good-for-nothings ings. Beyondgood and evil we found our island and oui gteetrmeadow-we trvo alone.Thereforewe had bette; hke eachother. And even if we do not love each other from the heart-need we bear each other a grudge if we do not love each other from the heart? lnd ihat I like you, often too well, thet you know; and the reasonis that I am jealousof your wisdom.Oh, this mad old fool of a wisdomt If your wisdom ever ran away from you, then my love would quickly run away ' from vou too." Then life lookedback and aroundthoughtfully and 'O Zarathustra,you are not faithful enough said softly: to me. You do not Iove me nearlyas much as you say; I know you are thinking of leaving me soon.There is an old heavn heavygrowl-bellthat_growlsat night all the way up io your cave;when you hear this bell strike the hour at midnighg then you think betweenone and
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 839 twelv*you think, O Zarathustra,I know it, of how you want to leaveme soon.' 'Yes," I answeredhesitantly,'but you alsoknow-" and I whisperedsomethinginto her ear, right through her tangledyellow foolishtresses. uYouknou that, O Zarathustra? Nobodyknowsthat." And we lookedat eachother and g"r"i on the green meadowover which the cool eveningwas runningjust then, and we wept together.But then life was dearerto me than all rny wisdomever was. Thus spokeZarathustra. 3 One! O man,take care! Two! lVhat does the deep midnight declare? Three! 'I was asleepFour! 'From a deepdreamI woke and swear: Fioe! 'The world is deep, Sixl 'Deeper than day had beenaware. Seoen! 'Deep is its woe; Eight! Joy-deeper yet than agony: Nirv! 'Woe implores: Gol Tenl "But all joy wants eternity-
840
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE Eboe,n! oWantsdeep,wants deepeternity,' Tweloe!
(oa:
THE SEVEN SEALS yEs AND AMEN
THE
soNc)
I
If I am a soothsayerand full of that soothsayingspirit which wanders on a high ridge between two seas,wandering like a heavy cloud between past and future, an enemy of all sultry plains and all thnt is weary and can neither die nor live-in its dark bosom prepared for Iightning and the redemptive flash, pregnant with lightning bolts thrrt say Yes and laugh Yes, soothsaying lightning bolts-blessed is he who is thus pregnantl And verily, long must he hang on the mountains like a dark cloud who shall one day kindle the llght of the futurd: Oh, how should I not lust after eternity and after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring of recurrence? Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unless it be this woman whom I love: for I love you, O eternity. For I looe you, O eternity! 2 If ever my wrath burst tombs, moved boundary stones,and rolled old tablets, broken, into steep depths; if ever my mockery blew moldy words into the wind, and I came as a broom to the cross-markedspiders and as a sweeping gust to old musty tomb chambers;if ever I sat jubilating where old gods te buried, world-blessing, worldJoving, beside the monuments of old worldslanders-for I love even churches and tombs of gods, once the sky gazes through their broken roofs with its
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 841 pure eyes,and like grassand red poppies,I love to sit oo broken churches: Oh, horv should I not lgst after eternity and after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring of recunence? Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children, unlessit be this woman whom I love: for I love you, O eternity. For I looe gou, O eternitgl 3 If ever one breath cameto me of the creativebreath and of that heavenlyneedthat constrainsevenaccidents to dance star-dances;if I ever laughed the laughter of creative lightning which is followed obediently but grumblingly by the long thunder of the deed; il I ever played dice with gods at the gods' table, the earth, till the earth quaked and burst and snorted up floods of ffre-Jor the earth is a table for godsand trembleswith creativenew words and gods'throws: Oh, how should I not lust after eternity and after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring of recurrence? Never yet have I found the vyomanfrom whom I wanted children, unlessit be this woman whom I lover for I love you, O eternity. For T laoe you, O eternitgl 4 If ever I drank full drafts from that foaming spiceand blend-mugin which all things are well blended; if my hand ever poured the farthest to the nearest,and ffre to spirit, and joy to pain, and the most wicked to the most gracious; if I myself am a grain of that redeeming salt which makesall things blend.well in the blend-mug-for there is a salt that unites good with evil; and even the greatestevil is worthy of being used
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
as spice for the last foaming over: Oh, how should I not lust after eternity and after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring or recurrence? Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wantedchildren,unlessit be this womanwhom I love: for I love you, O etemity. Fot I hoe you, O etem@! 5 If I am fond of the seaand of all that is of the sea's kind, and fondestwhen it an$ily contradictsme; if that delight in searchingwhich drives the sailstoward the undiscoveredis in me, if a seafarer'sdelight is in my delight; if ever my jubilation cried, "The coast has vanished,now the last chain has fallen from me; the boundlessroars around me, far out glisten spaceand time; be of good cheer,old heart!" Oh, how shouldI not lust after eternity and after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring of recurrence? Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wanted children,unlessit be this womanwhom I love: for I love you, O eternity. For I looe gou, O eternity! 6 If my virtue is a dancer'svirtue and I have ofteh iumped with both feet into golden-emeralddelight; if my sarcasmis a laughingsarcasm,at homeunder rose Hies-for in laughterall that is hedgesof Hiesslopesand hedges slopes evil comestogether, but is pronouncedholy and absolrrd by its own bliss; and if this is my a$ha and grave should shouldbecome become heavyand and qrave omega, omeqa,that all that is heavy Ught; all that is body, dancer; all that is spirit, bfudand veriln that is my alpha and omega:Oh, how should
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: THIRD PART 848 f not lust after eternity and after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring of recurrence? Never yet haVe I found the woman from whom I wantedchildren,unlessit be this womanwhom I love: for I love you, O eternity. For I looegou, O eternitg! 7 If ever I spreadtranquil skiesover myself and soared on my own wings into my own skies;if I swamplayfully in the deep light-distances, and the bird-wisdom of my freedom came-but bird-wisdomspeaksthus: *Behold,there is no above,no below! Throw yourself around,out, back, you who are lightl Singl Speakno more!Are not all wordsmadefor the graveand heavy? Are not all words lies to those who are light? Singl Speakno morel" Oh, how shouldI not lust after eteinity and-after the nuptial ring of rings, the ring of recurrence? Never yet have I found the woman from whom I wantedchildren,unlessit be this tvomanwhom I love: for I love you, O eternity. For I low gou, O eternity!
ThusSpokeZarathustra: Fourthandlast Part ALas,where in the world lws there been more folly than omongthe pitging? And. ulrct in the uoild, has cousedrnore xtffering than the fony of 4 pttyt"g: Woe_toall uho looe uithout haotng o height that is abooetlrcb pity!
THE PORTABLENTETZSCHE Thrc spokethe d,eoilto me once:"God too lws his hell: that is his looe of man." And mostre. cently I heard him say this: "C,od is dea.d;Coil died of hispity fu man," (Zarathustra,ll, p. zozl
844
rprron's NorEs Part Four was originally intendeil as an intermezzo,not as the end of the book. The very appearanceof a collection of sayingsis abandoned:Part Four forms a whole, and as such representsa n9w stylistic experinrent-as well as a number of widely different stylistic experiments,held together by a unity of plot and a pervasive sense of humor. t The Honey Sauifcd: Prologue. The "queer ffsh" are not long in coming:the ffrst of them appearsin the next chapter. z. The Cry of Disfress..Beginning of the story that continues to the end of the book. The soothsayerof Part Two reappears,and Zarathustraleavesin searci of the higher man. Now that he has overcome his nausea, his final trial is: pity. g. Conoersationuith the Kngs: The ffrst of sevenencounters in each of which Zarathustrameets men who have accepteil some part of his teaching without, however, embodyingthe type he envisages.Their revolting and tiresome flatteries might be charged to their general inadequacy. But Zarathustra'sown personality,as it emerges in chapter after chapter,posesa rnore seriousproblern.At least in part, this is clearly due to the author's deliberate malice: he does not ryant to be a "new idoli': "I do not want to be a saint, rather even a bufioon. PerhapsI am a bufroon. And nevertheless,or rather aof nevertheless-for there has never been anybody more mendaciousthan saints-trutlr speaksout of me" (Ecce Homo). Earlier in the sarne work he says of Shakespeare:"What must a man have sufferedto have found it that necessarvto be a bufioont" In these pages Nietzschewould t"rc*bl" thu
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTH PART 34t &amatist rather than the hagiographer,and a Shakesperr. ean fool rather than the founder of a new cult. in spirlt' 4. The Leech: Encounterwith'the conscientious 3. The lllagician: In tlre magician some of Nietziche'r own features blend with some of Wagner's as conceived by Nietzsche.The poem appears again in a manuscript o[ r88$ which bears tho title "Dionpus Dithyrambs" and the motto: 'These are the songs of Zarathustra which hc sang to himself to endure his ultimate loneliness." In thir later context, the poem is entitled 'Ariadne's Lament,' and a new conclusionhas been added by Nietzsche: (Lightning. Dlonysus becomet oklble ln enqaW beouty,) DroNYsus:Be clever, Ariailnel You have small ears,you have my eerr: Put a clever word into theml Must one not 0rst hate each other if one is to love each other? I am your labyrinth. the song is not reducible to a single level of meaning.Thc outcry is ( r ) Nietzschet own; and the unnamable,teniblc thought near the beginning is surely that of the eterael tecurrence;it is (z) projectedonto Wagner, who is hero lmagined as feeling desperately forsaken after Nietzscbo left him (note especially thu penultimate stanza); it fu (3) wishfully projectedonto CosimaWagner-Nietzsche'r Ariadne (see my N[etzwhe, r, Il)-who iq hero imagined as desiring and possessedby Nietzsche-Dionlaus. Part Four is all but made up of similar proiections.AII tbo charactersare caricaturesof Nietzsche.And like the ma$cian, he too would lie if he saidr 'I did all this only arr garne.' There was canoamescin it tooj 6. Retireil: Encounter with the last popc. Refectionr oo - the death and inadequaciesof God. 7. The tJg:IiestMan:'T'be murderer of God. The sentoncc beginning-"Has not all luccess . . .' reads in Germenr
THN PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 340 War nicht aller Erfolg bishet bei ilen Gut-Yerfolglen? iJnd usr gut oerfolgt, lernt leicht folgen:-iltt er doch einmal,hhtetheil E. The Yoluntary Beggar: A sermon on a mount-about oows. g. The Shadou: An allusion to NieEsche's earlier worlc, The Wandercrand His Shadoa ( r88o). to. N Noon: A charmingintermezzo. t. The Welcome: Zarathustra rejects his guests, though together they form a kind of higher man comparedto their contemporaries. eontemporaries. fle repudiatesthese men of great Ereat longing lonsins rnioyhis diatribesanil and nauseaas well as all thosewho enjoy denunciations and desire recognition and consideration for being out of tune with their time. What Nietzsche envisagesis the creator for whom all negation is merely incidental to his great affirmation: joyous spirits, "laughing fions." tz. The Last Supper: One of the persistentthemesof Part Four reachesits culminationin this chapter: Nietzschenot only satirizes the Gospels,and all hagiography generally, but he also makesfun of and laughsat himself. rg. On the Higher Man: A summary comparable to "On Old and New Tablets" in Part Three. Section5 epitomizes Nietzsche'spraise o[ "evif'-too briefly to be clear apart ftom the rest of his work-and the conclusion should be noted. The opening paragraphof section Z takes up the sametheme: Nietzscheopposessublimationto both license *castratism." and what he elsewherecalls A ffne epigram in is mounted the center of sectiong. The mellow moderation of the last lines of sectionr5 is not usually associated with Nietzsche. Aud the chapter ends with a praise of laughter. :.4. The Song of Melancholy:In the 1888 manuscriptof the "Dionysus Dithyrambs" this is the ffrst poem and it 'Only bears the title Fooll Only Poetl" The two introductory sectionsof this chapter help to dissociateNietzsche from the poem,while the subsquentreferencesto this song rhow that he coosiilered it far more depressing than it
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA: FOURTH PART 3l? appears in its context. Tbough hls solitucle sometirncl 'On dattered him, eveqy parable you riCe 10 sve{f truth' ('The Return Home"), he also loew moments whcn he said to himself, 'f am ashamedthat I must still bo a poet('On Old auil New Tablets"). Nthough Zarrthustrr's bufrooneriesaro certainly inteadod as such by thc luthor, -onlf the thought that ho might be -only- e fioola r poct 'climbing around on mendacious word briilge*- medc Nietzsche feel nroro than despondeuLSoon it tefl htm g; abandon firther attempts to ride on parablec in fevc of someof the most supple prose in Gersran literature. r5. On Sc{etlce:Only the origin of science is coosldered. The attempt to accountfor it in terms of fear goesback to the period of. The Dcron (r88r), in which Nietzsc.hotrieil to see how far he could reduce difrerent phenomenato fear and power, ZarathushasuggesBtbat couragoir crucial -that is, the will to pow€r over fear. 16. Among Daughtercof the Wildeme,ssrZarathustra,about to slip out of his cave for the s€condtime becauseho cen, not stand the bad smell of tho 'higber men," lr callod back by his shadow,who has nowhere amotrgmon smelled, better air+xcept once. In the following song Nietzsche'r buffoonery reachesits climax. But though it can and should be read as thoroughly delightful nonseDse,it is not entirely void of persooal signiffcance. Wiitte means 'deserto or 'wilderness," and rurjst can also mean wild and dissoluto3 and the 'fimsy little fan-, flutter-, ancl tiosel-skirtr- seen to havo been suggesteilby tho brothel to which . porter in C,ologneoncr took the youog Nietzschg who had esked to be shown to a hotel. (He ran awan shocked; d. ny Nietzsche, r, I.) Ce*ainly the poem is full of reruel fantasies.But the double meaning of *date" is not preseot in the original. ry. The Awakenlng: the ddes of this and the following chapter might well be reversed;for it is this chapter t}st cuLninates in the ass festival" Nietzsche's version of tho Black Mass.But *the awakening" here does not refer to thc monent when an angrv Mosesholds his people accorrntabla
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 948 for their worship of the golden calf, but to the momeal 'they have learnedto laugh at themselves."In this when art, incidentally, none of the great philosophers excelled the euthor of Part Four of Zarathwtra, 8. The Ass Festioal: Five of the participants try to iustify themselves. Th" popu satirizes Catholicism (Luther was last made fun of at the end of the song in Chapter 16), while the conscientiousin spirit develops a new theology -and suggeststhat Zarathustra himself is pretty close to being an ass. rg. The Drunken Song..Nietzsche'sgreat hymn to Joy invites comparisonwith Schiller's-minus Beethoven'smusic. That they use difierent German words is the smallest differenco. Schiller writes: Sufer braveh myriadsl Suffer for the better worltlt Up above the ffrnrament A great God will give rewards. Mefzsche wants the eternity of fhis life with all its agonies ---and seeingthat it fees, its eternal recurrence.As it is expressedin sectionsg,, ro, and ir, the conceptionof the iternal recrurenceis certainly meaningful; but its forurulation as a doctrine clependedon Nietzsche'smistaken belief that sciencecompelsus to accept the hypothesisof the eternal recurrenceof the same events at gigantic intervals. (See 'On the Vision and the Riddle" and "The Convalescent" both in Part Three, and, for a detailed discussion, rr, II.) my Nietzsche, oThe Welcomg' Zaratlusha repuiliateil zo. The Slgn: In 'laughing lions." Now a li
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTR{: FOURTH PART 349 opportunity to prreservehis curious blend of myth, irony, and hymn to the very end. THE
IIONEY
SACNITICE
And againmonthsand yearspassedover Zarathustra's soul, and he did not heed them; but his hair turned white. One day when he sat on a stonebefore his cave and looked out-and one looks on the seafrom there, acrosswinding abysses-hisanimalswalked about him thoughtfully and at last stood still before him, "O Zarathustra,"they said, "are you perhapslooking out for your happiness?' 'I lMhat matters happinessPhe replied; have long ceasedto be concernedwith happiness;I am concerned with my work." 'O Zarathustra," the animals spoke again, ]ou say that as one having overmuchof the good. Do you not lie in a sky-bluelake of happinessP 'You 'how bufioons,"Zarathustrareplied and smiled; well you crhoseyour metaphor.But you also know that my happinessis heavy and not like a flowing wave of water: it pressesme and will not leaveme and actslike meltedtar." Again the animalswalked about him thoughtfully and then stoodstill beforehim. "O Zarathustra,"they said, 'is that why you yourself are becorningever yellower and darker, althoughyour hair wants to look white and flaxen?You are in a dreadfulmessl' 'What are you saying there, my animals?"Zarathustra said and laughed;"*rtiy, I was abusivewhen I spoke of tar. What is happeningto me, happensto every fruit when it grows ripe. It is the honeg in my veins that makesmy blood thicker and my soul calmer."
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 850 'That is what it will be, Zarathustra,"the animals and nestledagainsthim; "but do you not want ansrvered to climb a high mountaintoday?The air is clear and one seesmore of the world today than ever before." "!'es, my animals,"he replied, 'your adviceis excellent and quite after my own heart; I want to climb a high mountaintoday. But seeto it that honeywill be at hand there: yellow, white, good, ice-fresh,golden combhoney.For you shouldknow that up thereI want to offer the honey sacriffce.' But when Zarathustrahad reachedthe heighthe sent back the animalswho had accompaniedhim, and he found himselfalone.Then he laughedheartily,looked around,and spokethus: lhat I spokeof sacriffcesand honey sacriffceswas mere cunningand, verily, a useful folly. Up here I may speakmore freely than before hermits' cavesand hermits' domesticanimals. lVhy sacriftce?I squanderwhat is given to me, Ia squandererwith a thousandhands;how could I call that sacriftcing?Anil when I desired honey, I merely desired bait and sweet mucus and mucilage,which make even growling bearsand quger, sullen, evil birds put out their tongues-the bestbait, neededby hunters For if the world is like a dark jungleand and ffshermen. a gardenof delight for all wild hunters,it strikesme evenmore,and soI preferto thinlcof ib as an abysmal, rich sea-a sea full of colorful ffsh and crabs, which even godsmight covet, that for their sakesthey would wish to becomeftshermenand net-throwers:so rich is the world in queer things,great and small. Especially the humanworld, the human seazthat is where I now cast my golden ffshing rod and say: Open up, you human abyssl
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART 35I Open up and cast up to me your ffsh and glittering crabslWith my bestbait I shalltodaybait the queerest human ftsh. My happinessitself I cast out far and rvide, between sunrise, noon, and sunse! to see if many human 6sh might not learn to wriggle and wiggle from my happinessuntil, biting at my sharphidden hooks, they must come up to mV height-the most colorful abysmal groundlings,to the most sarcasticof all rvho ffsh for men. For that is what I am through and through: reeling,reelingin, raisingup, raising,a raiser, cultivator, and disciplinarian,who oncecounseledhimself, not for nothing: Becomewho you arel Thus men may now comeup to me; for I am still waiting for the sign that the time has come for my descent;I still do not myself go under, as I must do, under the eyesof men. That is why I wait here,cunning and mockingon high mountains,neitherimpatientnor patient, rather as one who has forgottenpatiencetoo, becausehis "passion"is over. For my destinyleavesme time; perhapsit hasforgottenme. Or doesit sit in the shadebehinda big stone,catchingftes? And verily, I Iike_it for this, my eternal destiny: it does not hurqy and pressme, and it leavesme time for jestsand sarcasm,so that I could climb this high mountaintoday to catchffsh. Has a man ever caughtffsh on high mountains?And even though what I want and do up here be folly, it is still better than if I becamesolemndown there from waiting, and green and yellow-a swaggeringwrathsno*er from waiting, a holn howling storm out of the mountains,an impatientone who shoutsdown into the "Listen or I shall whip you with the scourgeof 11rll-e_ys, Codl" Not that I bear suchangry men a grudgelThey are good enoughfor my laughter. They must surely be irn-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCT{E
patient-these big noisy drums,which ffnd their chance to speaktoday or never. I, however,and my destinywe do not speakto the Today, nor do we speakto the Never; wp have patience and time and overmuchtime in which to speak.For oqreday it must yet come and may not pass What must come one day and may not pass?Our greatHczar: that is, our great distant human kingdom, the Zarathustrakingdom of a thousandyears. How distantmay this'distant" be?What is that to meP But for all that, this is no lesscertain: with both feet I stand ffrmly on this ground, on eternal ground, on haril primeval roclg on this highest hardest primeval mountain range to which all winds comeas to the'weathershed" and ask: where?and whence?and whitherP Laugh, laugtL my bright, wholesomesarcasmlFrom high mountains cast down your glittering mocking laughterl With your glitter bait me the most beautiful human fuhl And whateverin all the seasbelongsto me, my in-and-for-me in all things-rhal ffsh ouf for me, thrdbnng up to me: for that I, the most sarcasticof all fshermen, am waiting. Out, out, my ftshing rod! Down, dowru bait of my happinesstDrip your sweetestdew, honey of my heartl Bite, my ffshing ro4 into the belly of all black melan' clrolyl Out there, out there, my eyel Oh, how manyseassurround me, what dawning human futuresl And over mo -n'hat rose-redstillnesstWhat uncloudedsilencel TEE
CRY OF DISTNESS
The next day Zarathusbaagain sat on his stone before his cave, while the animalswere roaming throug! the outside world to End new norrishment-also new
FOURTH PART 958 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: honey,for Zarathusbahad spent and sqrranderedthe old honey down to the last drop. But as he was sitting there, a stick in his hand, tracing his shadow on the groun4 thinking-and verily, not about himself and his shadow-he was suddenly frightened, and he started: for besidehis own shadowhe sawanothershadow.And as he looked around quickly and got up, behold, the soothsayerstood beside him-the same he had once feted at his table, the proclaimerof the great weariness 'All is the same,nothing is worth while, who taught, the world is without meaning,knowledgestrangles." But his face had changedmeanwhile;and when Zarathustra looked into his eyes, his heart was frightened again: so many ill tidings and ashenlightning bolts ran over this face. The soothsayer,who had notieed what went on in Zarathustrdssoul,wiped his hand over his face as if he wanted to wipe it away; and Zarathustradid likewise. And when both had thus silently composed and strengthenedthemselves,they shook hands as a sign that they wanted to recognizeeach other. 'Welcome," said Zarathustra,"you soothsayerof the great weariness;not for nothing were you once my guest.Eat and drink with me againtoday, and forgive a cheerful old man for sitting at the table with you.o 'A cheerfulold manP'the soothsayer replied,shaking his head; "but whateveryou may be or want to be, Zarathustra,you shallnot be up heremuch longer:soon your bark shall not be strandedany more." 'But am I stranded?"Zarathustraasked,laughing. "The waves around your mountain"" replied the soothsayer,"are climbing and climbing, the wavesof great distress and melancholy; soon they will Mt up your bark too, and carry you off."
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE Zarathustra fell silent at that and was surprised. 'Do you not hear anything yet?" continued the soothsayer. "Does it not rush and roar up from the depth?" Zarathustra remained silent and listened, and he heard a long, long cry, u'hich the abyssesthrew to each other and handed on, for none wanted to keep it: so evil did it sound. *You proclaimer of ill tidings,' Zarathustra said ffnally, "this is a cry of distressand the cry of a man; it might well come out of a black sea.But what is human distress to me? tr{y ffnal sin, which has been saved up for me-do 1'ou know what it is?" "Pity!" answered the soothsayerfrom an overfos'ing heart, and he raised both hands. "O Zarathustra, I have come to seduceyou to your final sin." And no soonerhad these words been spoken than the cry resounded again, and longer and more anxious than before; also much closer now. "Do you hear? Do you hear, O Zarathustra?" the 'The cry is for you. It calls 1'ou: soothsayer shouted. Come, corne,comet It is time! It is high time!" Then Zarathustra remained silent, confused and shaken. At last he asked, as one hesitant in his own mind,'And who is it that calls meP 'But you know that," replied the soothsayerviolently; 'why do you conceal yourself? It is the higher mon that cries for yout" 'The higher man?" cried Zarathustra, seized with 'What does he wantP What does he want? The horror. higher man! What does he want here?" And his skin was covered with perspiration. The soothsayer, however, made no reply to Zara' thustra's dread, but listened and listened toward the depth. But when there was silence for a long time, he turned his glance back and saw Zarathustra standing
854
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART 35i 'O Tarathustro,' he begrn in a sad there trembling. tone of voice,"you are not standingthere as one made giddy by his happiness:you had better dancelest you fall. But evenif you would dancebeforeme,leapingall your side-leaps,no one could say to me, 'Behold,here dances the last gay mant' Anybody coming to this height, looking for that man,would comein vain: caves he rvould ffnd, and cavesbehirrdcaves,hiding-places for thoseaddictedto hiding, but no minesof happiness or treasureroomsor ns\a'gold veins of happiness.Happiness-how should one ffnd happinessamonghermits and those buried like this? Must I still seekthe last happinesson blessedisles and far au'ay behveenforgottenseas?But all is the same,nothingis worth while, no seekingavails,nor are there any blessedisles any more." Thus sighedthe soothsayer. At his last sigh,however, Zarrrthushagrervbright and sureagain,like one emerging into the light out of a deep gorge.'No! No! Three times no!" he shoutedrvith a strongvoice and stroked his beard.'Thnt I know better: there still are blessed isles.Be quiet about that, you sighingbag of sadnessl Stopsplashingaboutthat, youraincloudin the morning! Do I not stand here even now, wet from your melancholy and drenchedlike a dog?Now I shakemyself and run away from you to dry again;you must not be surprisedat that. Do I strikeyou as discourteous? But this is rny court. As for your higherman-well then, I shall look for him at once in thosewoods:thencecamehis cry. Perhapsan evil beasttroubleshim there. He is in rny realm: there he shall not cometo grief. And verily, there are many evil beastsaroundme.With thesewords Zarathustratumed to leave. Then the soothsayer said,'O Zarathustra,you are a roguel I knorvit: you want to get rid of me. You u'ould sooner
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 356 mn into the woods and look for evil beasts.But what will it avail you? In the eveningyou will have me back anyway; in your own caveI shall be sitting, patient and heavy as a block-waiting for you." 'So be itl" Zarathustrashoutedback as he was walk'And ing away. whateveris mine in my cave belongsto you too, my guest. And if you should ffnd honey in there-well" then" lick it up, you growling bear, and, sweetenyour soul. For in the evening we should both be cheerful-cheerful and gay that this day has come to an end. And you yourselfshall danceto my songsas my dancingbear. You do not believeit? You shakeyour head?Well then, old beart But I too am a soothsayer." thus spokeZarathustra. CONVERSATION
WITII
THE
TINC$
I
Zarathustrahad not yet walked an hour in his mountains and woodswhen he suddenlysaw a strangeprocession.On the very path he wanted to follow down, two kings were approaching,adornedwith crownsand crimsonbelts and colorful as famingos;and they were 'What do thesekings driving a laden assbefore thim. want in my realm?" Zarathustrasaid in his heart, surprised,and quickly he hid behinda bush.But when the kings cameclosehe said half aloud,as if talking to himself, "strangelStrangelHow doesthis fit together?Two kings I see-and only one assl" The two kings stopped,smiled, looked in the direc*. tion from which the voice had come, and then looked at eachother."somethingof the sortmay haveoccurred 'tut one to one of us too,' said the king at the right; doosnot sayit." The king at the left however,shrugged his shouldersand replied" "It may well be a goatherd.
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FOURTII PART g5t Or a hermit who has lirnedtoo long amongroc}s and trees.For no societyat all also spoils good manners." 'Good rnannersPthe other king retorted angrily and 'then what is it that we are trying to ge!-ayay bitterly; from?-Isit not'good manners?O,lt'good society'?It is lndeed better to live amonghermits and goatherdsthan among our gilded, false, paintetl mob'
TIIE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 858 'Your old illnessis upon you,' the king at the left 'nausea seizing you, my is said at this point; Poor brother. But you know that somebodyis listeningto us." ImmediatelyZarathustra,who had openedhis ears and eyeswide at this talk, rosefrom his hiding-place' rvalkedtoward the kings, and began,"He who is listening to you, he who likes to listen to yol, O kings' is cailed Zarathustra.I am Zarathustra,who once said, 'tVhat do kings matter now?' Forgive me, I was de' 'What do we kings liehted when you said to eachother, m"atter now?' Here, however, is rny realm and my dominion: what might you be seekingin my realm? But perhapsyou found on your way what I am looking for: the higherman." When the kings heard this, they beat their breasts 'TVe havebeenfound out. and said as with one voice, With the swordof this word you cut throughour hearts' thickestdarkness.You havediscoveredour distress,for behold,we are on our way to ffnd the higherman-the man who is higher than we, though'\ /e-are kings.-T-o him we are lea-dingthis ass.For the highestman shall alsobe the highestlord on earth. Nlaris fate knowsno harshermisfortunethan when thosewho have power on earth are not alsothe ffrst men. That makesevery' And when they thing falseand crookedand monstrous. .r" Eu"n the last, and more beastthan man, then the price of the mob rises and rises, and eventually the I aloneamvirtuel'o iirtue of the mobevensays,'Behold, '\Vhat did I just hear?"replied Zarathustra."What wisdom in kingst -to I am delighted and, verily, even feel the desire make a rhyme on this
FOURTHPART 359 THUS SPOKEZ-ARATHUSTRA: that the asstoo got in a word; but he said clearly and with evil intent, Yea-Yuh.) *Once-in the yearof gracenumberone,I thinkThe Sibyl said,drunkenwithout any drink, 'Now everythinggoeswrongt Oh, woel DecaytThe world has neversunk so lowl Romesankto whoredomand becamea stew, The Caesarsbecamebeasts,and God-a Jewl'" 2
Theserhymesof Zarathustradelightedthe kings; but the king at the riglit said,"O Zarathustra,how well rve did to go forth to seeyoul For your enemiesshoweclus your irnagein their mirror: there you had the mocking, grimaceof a devil, so that we tvereafraid of you. But what could we do? Again and again you pierced our earsand heirrtswith your maxims.So we said at last: what difierencedoesit make how he looks?We must 'You shalllove peaceas a me.llls hear him who teaches: to new wars, and the short Peacemore than the long!' Nobodyeverspokesuchwailike words: "\Mhati-sgood? To be-brave ii good. It is the good war that hallorvs the blood of our fathersstirred any cause.'Zarathustra, in-our bodiesat suchwords: it was like the speechof spring to old wine barrels. When the swordsran u'ild like snakesrvith red spots,our fathers grew fond of Iife; the sun of all peacestruck them as languid and lukewarm,and any long peacecausedshame.How our fatherssighedwhen they saw flashingdried-upswords on the will l,ike them, they thirsted for war. For a sword wants to drink blood and glistenswith desire." When tbe kings talked thus and chattedeagerlyof wasovercome of their fathers,Zarathustra the happiness
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 360 with no small temptation to mock their eagerness:for obviously they were very peaceful kings with old and ffne faces.But he restrainedhimself."Welll" he said, "that is where the path leads; there lies Zarathustra's cave;and this day shall yet havea long evening.Now, however, a cry of distresscalls me away from you urgently.My caveis honoredif kings want to sit in it and wait: onln you will have to wait long. But what doesit matter?Where doesone now learn better how to wait than at court?And all the virtue left to kings today-is it not called: being able to wait?" Thus spokeZarathustra. THE
LEECH
And thoughtfully Zarathustra went farther and deeper, through woods and past swampy valleys; but as happens to everybody who reflects on grave matters, he stepped on a man unwittingly. And behold, all at once a cry of pain and two curses and twenty bad insults splashed into his face and startled him so that he raised his stick and beat the man on whom he had stepped. A moment later, howevet, he recovered his senses,and his heart laughed at the folly he had just committed. "Forgive me,' he said to the man he had stepped on, 'forgive me who had angrily risen and sat down; and, above all, listen to a parable ffrst. As a wanderer who dreams of distant matters will unwittingly stumble over a sleeping dog on a lonely lead-a dog lying in ths eun-anil both start and let fly at each other like mortal enemies, because both are mortally frightened: thus it happened to us. And yet-and yet, how Iittle was lacking, and they might have caressedeach other,
FOURTHPART 361 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: this dog and this lonely man. For after all they were both lonely." '"lVboeveryou may be," said the man he had stepped on, still angry, "your parabletoo offendsme, and not only your foot. After all, am I a dog?"And at that the seatedman got up and pulled his bare arm out of the swamp.For at first he had beenlying stretchedout on asone lying the ground,concealedand unrecognizable, in wait for someswampanimal. 'But what are you doingfl' criedZarathustra,startled, for he sarvthat much bloodwas florvingdown the bare arm. "What has happenedto you? Did a bail animal bite you, you poor wretch?" 'What is that The bleedingman laughed,still angry. 'Here I am at to you?" he said and wanted to go on. homeand in my realm.Let whoeverwants to, ask me; but I certainlywont answera bumpkin." "You are wrong,' said Zarathustra,full of pity, and 'Tou are wrong. This is not your he held him back. realm but mine, and here nobody shall cometo grief. Call me whateveryou like; I am who I must be. I call myself Zarathustra.Welll Up there runs the path to Zarathustra'scave, which is not far. Do you not want to look after your wounds in my place?Things have gone badly for you in this life, you poor wretch; first the beastbit you and then man steppedon you." When the man who had been stepped on heard Zarathustra'sname he changedcompletely."What is happeningto me?" he cried out. "Who elsemattersto me any more in this life but this one man, Zarathustra, and that one beastwhich lives on blood, the leech? For the leech'ssakeI lay here besidethis swamplike a fisherman,and my arm, which I had cast,had already been bitten ten tirneswhen a still more beautiful leech
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 362 bit, seekingmy blood,Zarathustrahimself.O happirresst O miracle!Praisedbe this dav that lured me into this swamp! Praised be the best, the most alive cupper living today, praised be the great leech of the conscience,Zarathustra!" Thus spokethe man who had beensteppedon; and Zarathustraenjoled his words and their fine, respectful manner."Who are you?"he askedand ofreredhin his hand. "There is much betweenus that remainsto be clearedup and cheeredup; but even now, it seemsto me, the day dawnspure and bright." "I am tirc conscientious in spirit," replied the man; 'and in mattersof the spirit there may wel be nor-re strdcter,narrower,and harder than I, excepthe from whom I havelearnedit, Zarathustrahimself. "Ratherknow nothing than half-knowmuch! Rather be a fool on one'sown than a sageaccordingto the opinion of others! I go to the ground-what does it matter whether it be great or small?whether it be called swamp or sky? A hand's breadth of ground suftcesme, providedit is really groundand foundation. A hand'sbreadth of ground
FOURTHP.{RT 363 THL'SSPOKEZ.{RATHUSTRA: slip alvay from me here agaiu! Here-is mg _realm.For iti sake I have thrown away everythingelse; for its sakeeverythingelsehasbecomeindifferentto me; and, closeto my knowledgelies my black ignorance. "The conscieneeof my spirit demandsof me that I knorv one thing and nothing else: I loatheall the half in spirit, all the vaporoustlrat hover aud rave. "Where my honestyceases,I am blind and I also wiut to be blind. But where I want to know, I also $,?ut to be honest-that is, hard, strict, narrow,cruef anclinexorable. 'Spirit is the life "Tltat you, O Zarathustra,oncesaid, that itself cuts into life,'that introducedand seduced me to your doctrine.And verily, with my own blood I increasedmy own knowledge." "As is quite apparent,"Zarathustraintemrpted, for the blood still flowed down the bare arm of the conscientiousman, ten leecheshaving bitten deep into it. 'O 1'oustrangefellow, how much I learn from what is apparentheri, namely from you. And perhapsI had belter not pour all of it into your strict ears.Well! Here we part. But I shouldlike to ffnd you again.Up there goesthe path to my cave:tonight you shallbe my dear guest there. To your body too, I shouldlike to make up for Zarathustra'shaving steppedon you with his feet: I shall reflect on that. Now, however, a cry of distressrugently calls me away from you." Thus spokeZarathustra. THE
T(AGICIAN I
But when Zarathustracamearound a rock he behel4 not far below on the samepath, a man who threw his limbs around like a maniac and finally flopped down
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCIIE 864 on his belly. 'Waitl" Zarathustrasaid to his heart; 'that must indeed be the higher man; from him camethat terible cry of distress;Iet me see if he can still be helped.'But when he ran to the spotwherethe manlay on the ground he found a trembling old man with vacant eyes; and however Zarathustraexerted himself to help the man to get up on his feet again,it was all in vain. Nor did the unfortunateman seemto notice that anybody was with him; rather he kept looking around with piteousgestures,like one abandonedand forsakenby all the world. At last, however,after many shudders, convulsions,and coqtortions, he began to moan thus: 'Who warms me, who loves me still? Give hot handsl Give a heart as glowing coalst Stretchedout, shuddering, Like somethinghalf deadwhosefeet onewarrnsShaken,alas,by unknownfevers, Shiveringwith piercingicy frost-arrows, Hunted by thee, O thought! Unnamable,shrouded,terribleonel Thou hunter behind cloudst Struck down by thy lightning bolt, Thou mockingeye that staresat me from the dark: Thus I lie Writhing, twisting, tormented With all etemal tortures, Hit By thee, cruelesthunter, Thou unknow\ god!
Hit deeperl Hit oncemoreyett Drive a stake through and break this heartl
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART Why this torture With blunt-toothed arrows? Why dost thou stareagain, Not yet weary of human agony, With gods'lightningeyesthat delightin suffering? thou wouldst not kill, Only torture, torture? Why torture me, Delighted by suffering,thou unlarown god? Hahl hahl Thou art crawling close? In such midnightWhat dostthou want?Speakl Thou art crowding, pressingm+ Hah! Far too closel Awayl Awayl Thou art listeningto me breathe, Thou art listeningto my heart Thou jealous oneJealousof what? Awayl Awayl Why the ladder? Wouldst thou enter The heart, Climb in, deep into my Most secretthoughts? Shamelessone! Unknown thiefl What wouldst thou steal? What wouldst thou gain by listening? What wouldst thou gain by torture, Thou torturerl Thou hangman-godl Or shouldI, doglike, Roll before theeP Devotedly,frantic, besidemyself, Wag love to thee?
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In vain! Pierce on, Cruelestthornt No, No dog
FOURTHPART 367 THUSSPOKEZ.{R.{I'HUSTRA: Awayl He himself fled, My last, only companion, My great enemy, My unknown, My hangman-god. Nol Do comeback With all thy torturest To the last of all that are lonely, Oh, comebackt All my tear-streamsrun Their courseto thee; And my heartt ffnal flameFlares up f.ot thee! Oh, comeback, My unknown godl My painl My last-happinessl" 2 At this point, however, Zarathustra could not restrain himself any longer, raised his stick, and started to beat 'Stop it!" h€ the moaning man with all his might. 'Stop it, you actorl You shouted at him furiously. counterfeiterl You liar from the bottom! I recognize you welll I ll wann your legs for you, you wicked magician. I know well how to make things hot for such as you.' 'Leave ofil" the old man said and leaped up from the 'Don't ground. strike any more, Zarathustral I did all this only as a game. Such things belong to my art; it was you that I wanted to try when I treated you to this tyout. And veriln you have seen through me very well. But you too have given me no small sample of yourself to try out: you sre hard, wise Zarathustra. Hard do you hit with your'truths'; your stick forces this truth out of me."
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 368 oDon't fatterl" replied Zarathustra,still excited and angry,'you actor from the bottoml You are false;why do you talk of truth? You peacockof peacocks,you sea of vanity,u>hatwereyou playingbeforeme, you wicked magician?In wlnm was I to believe when I'ou were moaningin this way?" 'The asceticof tlzeupiriti said the old man,'I played him-.you yourself once coined this word-the poet and magicianwho at last turns his spirit againsthimself, the changedman who freezesto death from his And you may aswell conevil scienceand conscience. fessit: it took a long time, O Zarathustra,beforeyou sawthroughmy art and lie. Youbelieoedin my disEess when you held my headwith both your hands;I heard you moan,'Hehasbeenlovedtoo little, lovedtoo little.' That I deceived you to that extent made my malice inside me.' iubilate 'You may have deceived people subtler than f,'I do not guard against Zarathustra said harshly. deceivers;I have to be without caution; thus my lot wants it. You, however, have to deceive: that far I know you. You always have to be equivocal-tri-, quadri-, quinquevocal.And what you have now confessed, that too was not nearly true enough or false enoughto suit me. You wicked counterfeiter,how could you do otherwise?You would rougeevenyour disease when you show yourselfnakedto your doctor. In the sameway you have just now rougedyour lie when you 'I said to me, did all this'only as a game.'There was in it too: yov are somethingof an ascetic seriousness of the spirit. I solve your riddle: your magic has enchantedeverybody,but no lie or cunning is left to you to use against yourself: you are &senchantedfor yourself. You have harvestednauseaas your one truth. Not a word of yours is genuiue any more, excePtyour
TOURTH PART @ THUS SPOKEZ.ARATHUSTRA: mouth-namely, the nauseathat sticksto your mouth." 'Who are you?" cried the old magician at this point his voice deftant. lMho may speak thus to nre, the greatestman alive today?" And a green lightning bolt flashedfrom his eye toward Zarathustra.But immediately afterward he changedand said sadly,'O Zarame; I am thustra,I am weary of it; my art nauseates not great-why do I dissemble?But you know it too: I wantedto representa geat human I soughtgreatness. being and I persuadedmany; but this lie went beyond my strength. It is breaking me. O Zatathustra,everything about me is a lie;.but that I am breaking-this, my breaking,is genuine.' 'It doesyou credit," said Zarathusbagloomily, Iook'it does you credit that you ing aside to the ground, sought greatness,but it also betrays you. You are not great. You wicked old magician,this is what is best and mosthonestabout you, and this I honor: that you wearied of yourself and said it outright: T am not great.'In this I honor you as an asceticof the spirit; and even if it was only a wink and a twinkling, in this one momentyou were genuine. 'But speak,what are you seekinghere in my woods and rocks?And lying down on my path, how did you want to try me? In what way were you seekingto test nreP"Thus spokeZarathustra,and his eyesflashed. The old magicianremainedsilent for a while, then said, *Did I seekto test you? I-merely seek.O Zarathustra, I seek one who t genuine, right, simple, unequivocal,a man of all honesty,a vesselof wisdom, a saint of knowledge,a great human being. Do you not know iL Zarathustra?I seekZnrathustua." And at this point therebegana long silencebetween the two. But Zarathustrabecamedeeply absorbedand
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 370 closedhis eyes.Then, however,returningto his partner he seizedthe hand of the magician in the conversation, and said,full of kindnessand cunning, "Well! Up there goesthe path; there lies Zarathustra's cave.There you may seek him whom you would find. And ask my animalsfor advice,my eagleand my serpent:they\hall help you seek.But my cave is large. I myself,td be sure-I have not yet seen a great human being. For what is great, even the eyesof the subtlesttoday are too coarse.It is the realmof the mob.Many haveI seen, 'Behold a swollenand straining,and the peoplecried, great manl'But what goodare all bellows?In the end, the wind c$mesout. In the end, a frog which has pu$ed itself up too longwill burst: the wind comesout. To stab a swollen man in the belly, I call that a ffne pastime.Hear it well, little boysl "Today belongsto the mob: who could still know what is greatand what small?Who could still successfully seekgreatness? Only a fool: fools succeed.You seekgreat humanbeings,you queerfool? Who taught you that? Is today the time for thatP O you wicked seeker,why did you seekto test mefl' Thus spokeZarathustra,his heart comforted,and he continuedon his way, laughing. NETIRED
Not long, however,after Zarathustrahad got away from the magician,he again saw somebodysitting by the side of his path: a tall man in black,with a gaunt pale face; and th,is rnan displeasedhim exceedingly. "Alast" he said to his heart, *there sits mufled-up melancholy,Iookinglike the tribe of priests:what do they want in my realm? How now? I have scarcely escapedthat magiciau must anotherblack artist cross
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTH P.{RT 371 my way so soolHome wizard with layirrgon of hands, some dark miracle worker by the grace of God, some anointed world-slanderer whom the devil should fetch? But the devil is never where he should be: he always comes too late, this damned dwarf and clubfootl" Thus cursed Zarathustra, impatient in his heart, and he wondered how he might sneak past the black man, looking the other way. But behold, it happened otherrvise. For at the same moment the seated man had already spotted him; and not unlike one on whom unexpected good fortune has been thrust, he jumped up and walked torvard Zarathustra. 'Whoever you may be, you wanderer,- he said, "help one who has lost his way, a seeker, an old man who might easily come to grief here. This region is remote and strange to me, and f have heard wild animals howling; and he who might have offered me protection no longer exists himself. I sought the Inst pious mirn, a saint and hermit rvho, alone in his forest, hrrd not yet heard what all the world knows today." *What does all the worlcl knorv today?" asked Zarathustra._lPerhaps this, that the old goa in whom all the world once believed no longer hvJs?" 'As you say," replied the old man sadly. *And I served that old god until his last hour. But now I am retired, without a master, and yet not free, nor ever cheerful except in my memories. That is why I climbed these mountains, that I might again have a festival at last, as is fftting for an old pope and church father-for be!ol{, I am the last pope-a festival of pious memories and divine services. But now he himself is dead, the most pjo_usman, that saint in the forest who constantly pt"ltgd his -god with singing and humming. I did not ffnd him when I found his cave; but ther"e were two wolves inside, howling over his death, for all animals
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THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
loved him. So I ran away. Had I then come to these woods and mountains in vain? Then my heart decided that I should seek another man, the most pious of all those who do not believe in God-that I should seek Zarathustra!" Thus spoke the old man, and he looked with shaqp €yes at the man standing before him; but Zarathustra seized the hand of the old pope and long contemplated 'Behold, it with admiration. venerable one!' he said 'what then; a beautiful long hand! That is the hand of one who has always dispensed blessings. But now it holds him whom you seek, me, Zarathustra. It is I, the godless Zarathustra, who speaks: who is more godless than I, that I may enjoy his instruction?" Thus spoke Zarathustra, and with his glances he pierced the thoughts and the thoughts behind the thoughts of the old pope. At last the pope began, "He who loved and possessedhim most has also lost him most now; behold, now I myself am probably the more godless of the two of us. But who could rejoice in that?' 'You served him to the last?" Zarathustra asked thoughtfully after a long silence. "You know how he died? Is it true what they say, that pity strangled him, that he saw how man hung on the cross and that he could not bear it, that love of man became his hell, and in the end his death?" The old pope, however, did not answer but looked aside, shy, with a pained and gloomy expression."Let him go!" Zarathustra said aftbr prolonged reflection, still looking the old man straight in the eye. "Let him gol He is gone. And although it does you credit that you say only good things about him who is now dead, you know as well as I uho he was, and that his ways were queer." 'Speaking in the confidence of three eyes," the old
FOURTH PART 378 TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: 'lin pope said cheerfully (for he was blind in one eye), wliat pertains to God, I am-and have the right to be -more enlightenedthan Zarathustrahimself. My love served him many years, my will followed his will in everything.A good seryant,however,knowseverything, including even things that his master concealsfrom himself.He was a concealedgod, addictedto secrecy. Verily, even a son he got himself in a sneakyway. At the door of his faith standsadultery. '\Mhoever praiseshim as a god of love doesnot have a high inough opinion of love itself. Did this god not want to be a judge too? But the lover loves beyond reward and retribution. '"Whenhe was young,this god out of the Orient,he was harshand vengefuland he built himself a hell to amusehis favorites.Eventually,however,he became old and soft and mellowand pitying, morelike a grandfather than a father, but most like a shakyold grandmother.Then he sat in his nook by the hearth,wilted, grieving over his weak legs,wearyof the world, weary of willing, and one day he choked on his all-too-great Pity." 'You old pope,"Zarathustraintemrptedat this point, 'did you see that with your own eyes?Surely it might have happenedthat way-that way, and alsoin some other way. When gods die, they always die several kinds of death.But-well then! This way or that, this way and that-he is gone!He offendedthe tasteof my eais and eyes; I do not want to say anything worse about him now that he is dead.
*I
love all that looksbright and speakshonestly.But he-you know it, you old priest, there was something of your mannerabout him, of the priest'smanner:he was equivocal.He was also indistinct. How angry he got with us, this wrath-snorter,becausewe understood
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 974 him badlyl But why did he not speak more cleanly? And if it was the fault of our ears,why did he give us ears that heard him badly? If there was mud in our ears-well, who put it there?He bungledtiro much, this potter who had never ftnishedhis apprenticeship.But that he wreaked revengeon his pots and creationsfor having bungled them himself, that was a sin against good toste.Thereis goodtastein piety too; and it was this that saidin the end,'Away with sucha god! Rather no god, rather makedestinyon one'sown, ratherbe a fool, ratherbe a god oneselft'" 'What is this I hear?" said the old pope at this point, pricking up his ears."O Zarathustra,with such disbeliefyou are more pious than you believe.Some god in you must haveconvertedyou to your godlessness. Is it not your piety itself that no longerlets you believe in a god?And your overgreathonestywill yet lead you beyondgoodand evil too. Behold,what remainsto you? You have eyesand handsand mouth, predestinedfor blessingfrom all eternity.One doesnot blesswith the hand alone. Near you, although you want to be the most godless,I scenta secret,sacred,pleasantscentof long blessings:it givesme gladnessand grief. Let me be your guest,O Zarathustra,for one singlenight! No' where on earth shall I now feel better than rvith you." *Ament So be itl" said Zarathustrain great astortishment. "Up there goesthe way, there lies Zarathustra's cave.I shouldindeedlike to accompanyyou theremyself, you venerableone,for I love all rvho are pious.But now a cry of distressurgentlycallsme arvayfrom you. In my realm no one shall cometo grief; my caveis a goodhaven.And I wish that I could put everyonewho is sadback on ffrm land and firm legs. "But who could take yoar melancholyoff your shoulders?For that I am too weak. Verily, we might wait
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART gZ3 lorrg before someoneawakensyour god again. For this old god lives no more: he is thoroughlydead.o Thus spokeZarathustra. TIIE
UGLIEST
MAN
And again Zarathustrat feet ran over mountainsand through woods,and his eyeskept seeking,but he whom they wanted to seewas nowhereto be seen:the great distressedone who had cried out. All along the wan however, Zarathustra iubilated in his heart and was grateful. "What good things," he said, 'has this day given me to make up for its bad beginningl What strangepeople have I found to talk withl Now I shall long chew their words like good grains; my teeth shall grind them and crushthem small till they fow like milk into my soul.' But when the path turned around a rock again the scenerychangedall at once,and Zarathustraentereda realm of death. Black and red clifis rose rigidly: no grass,no tree, no birdt voice. For it was a valley that all animals avoided, even the beastsof prey; only a speciesof ugly fat greensnakescamehereto die when thgy greq ofd. Therefore the shepherdscalled this valley Snakes'Death. Zarathustra,however,sankinto a black reminiscence, for he felt as if he had stoodin this valley once before. And much that was grave weighed on his mind; he walked slowly, and still more slowly, and ffnally stood still. But when he openedhis eyeshe saw something sitting by the way, shapedlike a human being, yet scarcelylike a human being-something inexpreisible. And all at once a profound senseof shameovercame Zarathustra-for havi_nglaid eyes on such a thing: blushing right up to his white hair, he avertedhis ey;$
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 876 and raised his feet to leave this dreadful place. But at that moment the dead waste land was fflled with a noise, for somethingwelled up from the ground, gur' gling and rattling, aswater gurglesand rattles by night in cloggedwaterpipes;and at last it becamea human voice and humanspeech-thus: Zarathustra! ZarathustralGueqsmy riddlel Speak, speak!What rs the reoengeogainstthe uitness?I lute you back, here is slippery ice. Take care, take carethat your pride doesnot break its legs herel You think yourself wise, proud Zarathusba.Then guessthe riddle, you cracker of hard nuts-the riddle that I am. Speakthen: who am I?" But when Zarathustrahad heard thesewords--what do you supposehappenedto his soul?Pity seizedhim; and he sankdown all at once,Ike an oak tree that has long resisted many woodcutters-heaviln suddenly, terrifying even thosewho had wanted to fell it. But immediately he rose from the ground again, and his face becamehard. "I recognizeyou well," he said in a voice of bronze; oyw are the mwikrer of Cod! Let me go. You could not bear him who saw you-who always saw you through and through, you ugliest mant You took revengeon this witnessl" Thus spokeZarathustra,and he wanted to leave; but the inexpressibleone seizeda cornerof his garmentand. began again to gurgle and seek for words. "Stayt" he saidffnally."Stayl Do not passbyl I haveguessedwhat ax struck you to the ground: hail to you, O Zarathustra, that you stand againl You have guessed,I know it well, how he who killed him feels-the murderer of God. StaytSit down herewith mel It is not for nothing. Whom did I want to reach,if not you? Stayl Sit downl But do not look at mel In that way honor my ughnessl
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FOURTH PART Cftz they penecute me; \ovi gou are my last refuge. l/of with their hatred, not with their catchpoles:I would mock such persecutionand be proud and glad of itl *Has not all zuccesshitherto been with the wellpersecuted?And whoeverpersecuteswell, learnsreadily how to foll,ow;for he is used to going after somebody else. But it is their pity-it is their pity that I flee, fleeing to you. O Zarathusha,protect me, you my last refuge, the only one who has solved my riddle: you guessedhow he who killed him feels. Stayl And if you worrld go, you impatient one, do not go the way I came.TIwi way is bad. Are you angry with me that I have even now stammeredtoo long-and even advise you? But know, it is I, the ugliest man, who also has the largest and heaviestfeet. Where I have gone, the way is bad. I tread all wap till they are dead and ruined. "But that you passedme b1 silent; that you blushed, I saw it well: that is how I recognizedyou as Zarathustra. Everyone else would have thrown his alms to me, his pity, with his eyes and words. But for that I am not beggarenough,as you guessed;for that I am too rich, rich in what is grea! in what is terrible, in what is ugliest, in what is most inexpressible.Your shame, Zarathustra, honored mel With dificulty I escapedthe throng of the pitying, to find the only ono today who teaches,'Pity is obtrusive'-you, O Zaratfiustra. Whether it be a godt pity or man's-pity ofiendsthe senseof shame.And to be unwilling to help can be nobler than that virtue which jumps to help. "But today that is called virtue itself among all the little people-pity. They have no respectfor great misfortune, for great ugliness,for great failure. Over this multitude I look away as a dog looks away over &e backs of teeming flocks of sheep.They are little gray
g'8
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
people, full of good wool and good will. As a heron Iools away contemptuously over shallow ponds, its head leaning back, thus I look away over the teeming massof gray little wavesand wills and souls.'Toolong have we concededto them that they are right, these little people; so tbat in the end we have also conceded them might Now they teach: Good is only what little people call good.' 'And today'trutlf is what the preachersaid, wbo himself came from among them, that queer saint and advocateof the little people who bore witness about himself:'I am the truth.'This irnmodestfellow haslong given the little people swelled heads-he who tauglt 'I no small error when he taught, am the truth.' Has an immodest fellow ever been answered more politely? You, however,O Zarathustra,passedhim by and said, Not No! Threetimesno!'You wamed againsthis enor, you, as tle ffrst, warned againstpity-not all, not none, but you and your kind. 'Tou are ashamedof the shameof the great su$erer; 'From pity, a great cloud and veriln when you san 'All approaches;beware, O ment'; when you teach, creators are hard, all great love is over and above its pity'-O Zarathustra,how well you seemto me to understand storm signs. But you-warn yourself also against your pity, For many are on their way to you" many who ar- suffering, doubting, despairing,drowning, freezing. And I also wam you againstmyself. You guessedmy besg my wont riddle: myself and what I did. I know the ax that fells you. "But he had,to dier he saw with eyesthat saw everything; he saw man's depths and ultimate grounds, all his concealeddisgraceand ugliness.His pity kneu' no shame: he crawled into my dirtiest nooks. This most curious, overobbusive,oveqpityingone had to die. He
TIIUS SPOI(EZARATHUSTRA:FOURTH PART 379 alwap saw me: on such a witness I wanted to have revenge or not live myself. llhe god who saw every' thing, eoen man-this god had to diet Man cannot bear it that such a witnessshouldlivel llhus spokethe ugliest man. But Zarathusharoseand was about to leave,for he felt frozen down to his veqy 'you have entrails. "You inexpressibleone," he said, warned me againstlow way.In thanksI shall praise mine to you. Behold, up there lies Zarathustrat cava My cave is large and deep and has many nooks; even thi most hidden can ffnd a hiiling-place there. Antl closeby there are a hundred densand lodgesfor crawling, fluttering and jumping beasts.You self-exiledexile, woulit you not live among men and merfs pity? Well thenl Do as I do. lhus you also learn from me; only the doer learns. And speak ffrst of all to my animalsThe proudest animal and the wisest animat{hey should be the right counselorsfor the two of us.' Thus spoke Zirathustrq and he went his way, $i! more refictively and slowly than before; for he aslced himself mucb, and he did not know how to answerhim'How poor man is after all,'he thoughtin self readily. 'how ugln how wheezing,how full of hidden his heart; shamel I have been told that man loves himself: ah, how great must this self-lovebel How much contempt standsagainstitl This fellow too loved himself' even as he despisedhimself: a great lover he seemsto me, and. a great despiser.None have I found yet who despised himself more deeply: that too is a kind of height. Alas, was he perhaps the higher man whose cry I heard?I love tha great despisers.Man, however, fu ssmgthing that must be overcome.'
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TIIE
VOLUNTARY
BEGCAN
When Zarathustrahad left the ugliest man, he felt frozen and lonely: for much that was cold and lonely passedthrough his mind and made his limbs too feel colder, But ashe climbed on and on, up and dowr5 now past green pastures,then again over wild stony places where an impatient brook might once have made its bed, all at oncehe felt warmer and more cheerful again 'What happenedto me?" he asked himself. 'Something warm and alive refreshes me, something that must be near me. Even now I am lessalone; unknown companionsand brothers roam about me; their warm breath touchesmy soul." But when he looked around to ffnd those who had behold,they were cows,standcomfortedhis loneliness, ing together on a knoll; their proximity and smell had warmedhis hearL Thesecows,however,seemedto be listening eagerly to a speaker and did not heed him that was approaching.But when Zarathustrahad come quite close to them, he heard distinctly that a human voicrewas speakingin the middle of the herd; and they had evidently all turned their headstoward the speaker. Thereupon Zarathustra iumped up eagerly and pushed the animalsaparf for he was afraid that somo body had sufiered someharm here, which the prty of cows could scarcely cure. But he was wrong, for behold, there sat a man on the ground, and he seemedto be urging the animalsto have no fear of him, a peac€ful man and sermonizeron the mount out of whose 'What do you seek eyesgoodnessitself was preaching. hereP' shoutedZarathustra,amazed. 'Ihe samething 'What do I seekhereP'he replied"
FOURTHPART 381 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: you are seeking,you disturber of the peaceshappiness on earth. But I want to learn that from thesecows.For, you lnow, I have already been urging them half the moming,and just now they wantedto tell me. Why do you disturb them? 'Except we turn back and becomeas cows,we shall not enterthe kingdomof heaven.For we oughtto learn one thing from them: chewing the cud. And verily, what would it profit a man if he gained the whole world and did not leam this one thing: chewingthe cud! He would not get rid of his melancholy-his great melancholy;but today that is callednausea.Who today doesnot have his heart, mouth, and eyesfull of nausea? You tool You tool But behold thesecowst" Thus spoke the sermonizeron t}re mount, and then he turned his own eyes toward Zarathustra,for until then they had dwelt lovingly on the cows. But then his eyeschanged."Who is this to whom I am talking?"he cried, startled,and jumped up from the ground."This is the man without nausea,this is Zarathustrahimself, the man who overcamethe great nausea;this is the eye, this is the mouth, this is the heart of Zarathusha himself." And as he spokethus, he kissedthe hands of the man to whom he was talking, and his eyeswelled over, and he behavedexactlyasone to whom a precious gift and treasurefalls unexpectedlyfrom the sky. But the cowswatched all this with amazement. 'Do not speak of me, you who are so sbange, so lovelyl'Zarathustra said and restrainedhis tender affection. "First speakto me of yourself. Are you not tlte voluntary beggar who once tluew away geat riches? Who was ashamedof his riches and of the rich, and fled to the poorest to give them his fullness and his heart? But they did not accept hirn."
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 882 "But they did not accept me,' said the voluntary beggar; ]ou know it. So I ffn"lly went to the animals and to thesecows.' 'There you have learned,' Zarathustra interrupted the speaker, how right giving is harder than right receiving, and that to give presentswell is an orf and the ultimate and most cunning master-artof graciousness." 'Especially today,' answeredthe voluntary beggar; otoday, I mearl when everything basehas becomerebelliousand shyand,in.its own way, arrogant-I mear5 in the way of the mob. For the hour has come, you know it, for the great, bad, long, slow revolt of the mob and slaves:it grows and grows. Now the baseare outragedby any charity and any litde giving away; and the overrich should beware.Whoever drips today, like bulging botdes out of all-too-narrownecks--+uchbottles they like to seize today to break their neclcs. Lascivious greed, galled envy, aggrievedvengefulness, mob pride: all that leapedinto my face. It is no longer true that the poor are blessed.But the kingdom of heavenis among the cpws." -Ancl why is it not among the richP asked Zarathustra temptingly as he warded off the cows, whie,h were breathing trustingly on the peacefulman. 'You 'Why yourself do you tempt me?" he replied. know it even better than I. What was it after all that drove me to the poorest,O Zarathustra?Was it not that f was nauseatedby our richest men?By the convictsof riches,who pick up their advanta$eout of any rubbish, with cold eyes, lewd thoughts; by this rabble that stinks to high heaven;by this gilded, false mob whose fathers have been pickpockets or carrion birds or ragpickers-with women,obliging, lascivious,and for.
FOURTHPART 388 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: gedul: for'none of them is too far from the whoresnob aboveand mob belowt What do'poor' and'ricH matter today? This difference I have forgotten. I fle4 farther, ever farther, till I cameto these cows." Thus spoke the peaceful man, and he himself breathed hard and sweated as he spoke, so that the oowswere amazedagain. But Zarathustrakept looking into his face, smiling as he spoke so harshln and 'You do yourself violence, silently he shook his head. you sermonizeron the moun! when you use suchharsh words. Your mouth was not formed for such harshnesg nor your eyes.Nor, it seemsto me, your stomacheither: it is ofiendedby all suchwrath and hatred and frothing. Your stomachwants gentler things: you are no butcher. You seemmuch more like a plant-and-rootman to me. Perhapsyou gnash grain. Certainly, however, you are averseto the jot's of the fesh and you love honey.' oYouhave unriddled me well,' answeredthe volun'I tary beggar, his heart relieved. love honey; I also gnash grain, for I sought what tasteslovely and gives a pure breath; alsowhat takesa long time, a day'sand a mouth's work for gentle idlers and loafers. Nobody, to be sure, has achievedmorb than thesecows: t}ley invented for themselveschewing the cud and lying in the sun. And they abstain from all grave thoughtg which bloat the heart.' 'Well thenl" said Zarathustra.'You shouldalso see my animals,my eagleand my serpent:their like is not to be found on earth today. Behold, there goesthe way to my cave: be its guesttonight. And talk with my animals of the happinessof animals-till I myself return home.For now a cry of distressurgentlycallsme arvay from you. You will alsoffnd new honeyin my cave,icefresh golden comb honey: eat thatl But now quickly
884
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
take leave from your oows,you who are so shange,so lovelyl-though lovelyl-thouqh it may be hard for you. For they are your wannestfriends and teachers." -Excepting onewhom I love still mott," answeredthe voluntary beggar. 'You yourself are good, and even better tban a oo% O Zarathustra." 'Away, away with you, you wicked flattererl" Zarathustra cried with malice."Why do you cormpt me with such praise and honeyed flattery? Away, away from met' he cried once more and brandishedhis stick at the afiectionatebeggar,who ran away quickly. TIIE
SHADOW
But as soon as the voluntary b"ggrr had run away and Zarathustrawas alone again"he heard a new voice 'Stop, behind hinl shouting, ZarathustralWaitl It is I, O Zarathustrq f, your shadowl"But Zarathustradid not wait, for a sudden annoyanc€came over him at the 'Where many intruders and obtrudersin his mountains. 'Verily, it is becoming has my solitude gone?"he said. too much for me; this mountain range is teeming, ny kingdom is no longer of thir world" I need new mountains. My shadow calls me? What does my shadow matter? Let him run after mel I shall run away from him." Thus spokeZarathustrato his hear! and he ran away. But he who was behind him followed him, so that soon there were three mnners,one behind the other, ffrst the voluntary beggar, then Zarathustra,and third and last his shadow.It was not long that they ran this way be. fore Zarathustra realized his folly and with a single 'Welll" he shrug shook ofi all discontent and disgust. always hap said; "have not the rrost ridiculous things my Verily, saints? herrrits and pened among us old
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FOURTH PART gg5 folly has grcwn tall in the mountains.Now I hear six gld {ools' lggs glatterilg qlong in a row. But may Zarathustrabe afraid of a shadow?Moreover, it seems to me that he has longerlegsthan I." Thus spokeZarathustra,laughing with his eyes and entrails; he stopped quickly and turned around-and behold, he almostthrew his follower and shadowto the ground: so closewas the shadowby then, and so weak too. And when Zarathustra examined him \ilith his eyes, he was startled as by a sudden ghost: so thin, swarthn hollow, and outlived did this follower look. oWho are you?" Zarathustraaskedviolently. "What are y-ou doing here? And why do you call younelf my shadowPI do not like vou.'Forgive me,- answe,'redthe shadow, 'that it is I; and if you do not like me, well tlen, O Zarathustra,for that I praiseyou and your good taste. I am a wanderer w_hohas already walked a great deal at your heelsalways on my way, but without any goal, also without any home; so that I really lack little toward being the Eternal Jew, unlessit be that I am not eternal,and not a Jew. HowP Must I always be on my way? Whirled by every wind, restless,driven on? O earth, thou hast becometoo round for rnel 'I have already sat on every surfacr; like weary dus! I_havegoneto sleepon mirrors and windowpanes:everything takes away from me, nothing gives, I become thirF-I am almostlike a shadow.Bu{ after you, O Tarathustra, I flew and blew the longest; and even when I hid from you f was still your blst shadow: wherever you sat, I sat too. 'With you I haunted the remotest, coldest worlds like a ghostthat runs voluntarily over wintery roofs and snow. With you I strove to penetrate everything that is forbidden, wors! remotest;and if there is anything in
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE S8O me that is virtue, it is that I had no fear of any forbiddance.With you I broke whatevermy heart revered; f overthrew all boundary stonesand images;I pursued the most dangerouswishes: verily, over every crime I have passedonce.With you I unlearnedfaith in words and valuesand great names.When the devil shedshis skin, doesnot his namefall off too?For that too is skin. The devil himselfis perhaps-skin. ''Nothing is true, all is permitted': thus I spoketo myself. Into the coldest waters I plunged, with head and heart.Alas,how often haveI stoodthereaftenvard, naked as a red crab! Alag where has all that is good gone from me-and all shame,and all faith in those who are good?Alas, where is that mendaciousinno cencethat I oncepossessed, the innocenceof the good and their noble liesP 'Too often, verily, did I follow closeon the heels of truth: soshekickedme in the face.Sometimes I thought I was lying, and behold, only then did I hit the truth. Too much has becomeclear to me: now it no longer concernsme. Nothing is alive any more that I love; horv should I still love myself?To live as it pleasesme, or not to live at all': that is what I want, that is what the saintliestwant too. But alas,how could anythingplease me any more? Do I have a goal any more? A haven toward which my sail is set? A good wind? Alas, only he who lcnowswhere he is sailing also knows which wind is good and the right wind for him. What is left to me now? A heart, weary and impudent a restless wilf flutter-wings, a broken backbone.Tryottg tlus to ftnd my home--O Zarathustra,do you know it?-trying this wasmy tnal; it consumesme. 'Where is-my home?' I ask and searchand have searchedfor it, but I have not found it. O eternal everywhere,O etemal nowhere, O etemal-in vaint"
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTH PART 387
Thus spokethe shadow,and Zarathuslg'sjacg grery long ash6 [stened. "You are my shadow,"he ftnally said 'Your dangeris no smail one, you free spirit and sadly. wanderer.You have had a bad day; seeto it that you do not have a still worse evening.To thosewho are as restlessas you, evena jail will at last seembliss. Have you ever ieen how imprisoned criminals sleep?They ileep calmly, enjoyingtheir new security.BewareIest a ninow faith imprison you in the end-some harsh and severeillusion. For whatever is narrow and solid seducesand tempts you now. *You have losf your goal; alas,horv will you digest and jest over this loss?With this you have also lost your way. You poor roaming enthusiast,you weary butterflylWould you havea restandhomethis evening? Then go up to my cave. Up there goesthe path to my cave. 'And now let me quickly nrn away from you again. Even now a shadow seemsto lie over me. I want to run alone so that it may becomebright around me agrrin.For that, I shall still have to stay merrily on my legs a long time. In the evening,horvever,there will be dancingin my cave." Thus spokeZarathustra. AT
NOON
And Zarathustraran and ran and iliil not ffnd anybody any more, and he was alone and found himself again and again, and he enjoyed and quaffed his solitude and thought of good things for hours. But around the hour of noon,when the sun stoodstraight over Zarathustra'shead, he came to an old crooked and knotty tree that was embraced,and hidden from itself, by the rich love of a grapevine; and yellow
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 388 grapes hung from it in abundance, inviting the wanderer. Then he felt the desire to quench a slight thirst and to break off a grape; but even as he was stretching out his arm to do so, he felt a still greater desire for something else: namely, to lie down beside the tree at the perfect noon hour, and to sleep. This Zarathustra did; and as soon as he lay on the ground in the sUllnessand secrecy of the many-hued grass, he forgot his slight thirst and fell asleep. For, as Zarathustra's proverb says, one thing is more necessary than another. Only his eyes remained open: for they did not tire of seeing and praising the tree and the love of the grapevine. Falling asleep, however, Zarathustra spoke thus to his heartr Still! SUil! Did not the world become perfect iust nowP What is happening to me? As a delicate wind dances unseen on an inlaid sea, light, featherJighg thus sleep dances on me. My eyes he does not close, my soul he leaves awake. Light he is, verily, featherlight. He persuades me, I know not how. He touches me inwardly with caressinghands, he conguers me. Yes, he conquers me and makes my soul stretch out: how she is becoming long and tired, my strange soull Did the eve of a seventh dav come to her at noon? Has she already roamed happili among good and ripe things too long? She stretches out long, long-longer. She lies still, my strange soul. Too much that is good has she tasted; this golden sadnessoppressesher, she makes a wry mouth. Like a ship that has sailed into its stillest cove-now it leans against the earth, tired of the long voyages and the uncertain seas. Is not the earth more faithful? The way such a ship lies close to, and nestles to, the land-it is enough if a spider spins its thread to it from the land: no stronger ropes are needed now. Like such
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART 389 in the f too r€st now near the a tired ship stillest cove, earth, faithful, trusting waiting, tied to it with tbe softest threads. O happinesslO happinesstWould you sing, O my soul? You are lpng in the grass.But this is the secret solemnhour when no shepherdplayshis pipe. Refrainl Hot noon sleepson the meadows.Do not singl Stilll the world is perfect. Do not sing, you winged one in the grass,O my soul{o not even whisperl Beholdstilll-the old noon sleeps,his mouth moves: is he not just now drinking a drop of happiness,an old brown drop of golden happiness,golden wine? It slips over him, his happinesslaughs.Thus laughsa god. Stilll 'O happiness,how little is sufficientfor happinessto Thus I'spoke once and seemedclever to myself. But it was a blasphernyzthat I have leamed now. Clever fools speak better. Precisely the least, the softest, lightest, a lizardt rustling, a breath, a breeze, a moment'sglance-it is linle t}lat makestlrr-best happiness Stilll What happenedto me?Listent Did time perhapsfly away?Do I not fall? Did I not fall-listen!-into the well of eternity? What is happeningto meP Stilll I have been stung, alas-in the heart?In the hea*l Oh break, break, heart, after such happiness,after such a sting. How? Did not the world becomeperfect iust now? Round and ripe? Oh, the golden round ringwheremayit fly?ShallI run after it? Quickl Still! (And here Zarathustrastretchedand felt that he wasasleep.) "Up!" he said to himself; ]ou sleeperlYou noon nappertWell, get up, old legs!It is time and overtime; manya goodstretchof road still lies aheadof you. Now you have slept out-how long?Half an etemity! Welll Up with you no% my old heartl After sucha sleep,how long will it take you to-wake it oS?" (But then he
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 890 fell asleepagain, and his soul spoke against him and resistedand lay down again.) 'Leave me alone!Still! Did not the world becomeperfect iust now? Oh, the goldenrcund balll" 'Get upl" said Zarathustra"'you little thief, you lazy little thief of timel What? Still stretching,yawning, sighing, falling into deep wells? Who are you? O my soull" (At this point he was startled, for a sunbeamfell from the sky onto his face.) *O heavenover mel" he said, sighing, and sat up. 'Tou are looking on? You are listening to my strangesoul?When will you drink this drop of dew which has fallen upon all earthly things? When will you drink this strangesoul? Wheq well of eternity? Cheerful, dreadful abyssof noon! When will you drink my soul back into yourselfP" Thus spoke Zarathustra, and he got up from his resting place at the tree as from a strangedrunkenness; and behold,the sun still stood straight over his head. But from this one might justly conclude that Zarathustra had not slept long. THE
WELCOME
ft was only late in the afternoon that Zarathustra, after much vain searching and roaming, returned to his caveagiin. But when hi was oppositei! not twenty paces away, that which he now least expected came about: again he heard the great cry of d.i*ress.Andamazing!-this time it came from his own cave. But it was a long-drawn-oul manifold, strange cry, and Zarathustracould clearly discem that it was composed of many voices,though if heard from a distanceit might sound like a cry from a single mouth. Then Zarathustra leaped toward his cave, and behold, what a sight awaited him after this soundl For
FOURTHPART 3OI THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: all the men whom he had passedby during the day were sitting there together: the king at tbe right and the king at the left, the old magician, the pope, the voluntarybeggar,the shadow,the conscientiousin spirit, the sadsoothsayer,and the ass;and the ugliest man had put on a crown and adomed himself with two crimson belts, for like all who are ugly he loved to disguise himself and pretend that he was beautiful. But in the rniddle of this melancholy party stood Zarathustra's eagle, bristling and restless,for he had been askedtoo many questionsfor which his pride had no answer; and thb wise serpenthung around his neck. Zaratlustra beheld all this with great amazement; then he examinedevery one of his guestswith friendly curiosity, read their iouls, and ias amazed again. Meanwhile all those gathered had risen from their seats and were waiting respectfully for Zarathusha to speak.But Zarathustraspokethus: 'You who despairl You who are strange! So it rvas cry of distressthat I heard?And now I alsoknow lour where to ffnd him whom I sought in vain todayz the higher man. He sits in my own cave,the higher man. But why shoulclI be amazed?Have I not lured him to myself with honey sacriffcesand the cunning siren calls of my happiness? 'Yet it seemsto me that you are poor company;you who utter cries of distressupset each other's hearts as you sit here together.First someonemust come-someone to make you laugh again, a good gay clown" a dancerand wind and wildcat, someold fool. What do you think? 'lForgive me, you who despair, that I speak to you with such little words, unwortln verily, of luch guests. But you do not guessulnt makesme so prankish:it is you yourselveswho do it, and the sight of you; for$ve
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 392 rne! For everyonebecomesbrave when he observesone who despairs.-To encourage one who despairs-for that everyonefeelsstrongenough.-Even to me you gave this strength: a good gift, my honoredguestslL proper present to ensure hospitalityl Well tlen, do not be angry if I alsooffer you somethingof what is mine. "This is my realm and my dominion; but whateveris mine shall be yours for this eveningand this night. My animals shall serve you, my cave shall be your placl of rest.In my homeand housenobodyshall'despair;in my region I protect everybody.fromhis wild animals. And this is the ffrst thing I ofier you: security. The second thing, however, is my Iittle ffnger. And once you havethat,by all meanstakethe whole hand; well, and my heart tool Be welcome here, welcome, my guestsl" Thus spoke Zarathusha, and he laughed from love and malice. After this weloomehis guestsbowed again and were respecdully silent; but the king at the right $and answerJdhim in their name: "Frori the manner, O Zarathustra,in which you ofiered us hand and welcome,we recognizeyou as Zarathustra.You humbled yourself before us; you almost wounded our reverence. Butwho would know asyou do, how to humblehimself with such pride? TIwt in itself uplifts us; it is refreshing for our eyesand hearts.Merely to seetlis one thing, we would gladly climb mountainshigher than this one. For we came,eagerto see;we wantedto beholdwhat makesdim eyesbright. And behold, even now we are done with all our cries of distress.Even now our minds and heartsare oirenedup and delighted. Little is lacking, and our spirits will becomesportive. "Nothing more delightful grows on earth, O Zarathustra,than a lofty, strongwill: that is the earth'smost beautilul plant. A wbole landscapeis refreshedby one
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART 399 such tree. Whoever grows up high like !ou, O Zarathustra,I compareto the pine: long, silent,hard, alone, of the best and most resilientwood, magnificent-and in the end reachingout with stronggreenbranchesfor his oron dominion,questioningwind and weatherand whateyerelseis at home on the heightswith forceful questions,and answeringyet more forcefulln a commander, triumphant: oh, who would not clirnb high mountainsto seesuch plants?Your tree here, O Zarathustra, refresheseven the gloomy ones, the failures; your sight reassuresand heals the heart even of the restless.And verily, toward your mountain and tree manyeyesare directedtoday;a greatlonginghasariserl and many have learnedto ask,'\ilho is ZarathustraP 'And thoseinto whoseearsyou have once dripped your songand your honey,all the hidden,the lonesome, t"hetwosome,haveall at oncesaidto their learts, 'Does Zarathustrastill live? Life is no longer worth while, all is the same,all is in vain, or-we must live with Zarathustra.' 'Why doeshe not comewho hasso long announced himself?'askmany.'Hassolitudeswallowedhim upPOr are we perhapssupposedto cometo him?' 'Now it happens that solitude itself grows weary and breaks,like a tomb that breaksand can no longer hold its dead. Everywhereone seesthe resurrected. Now the wavesare climbing and climbingaroundyour mountain,O Zarathustra. And howeverhigh your height may be, manymustcomeup to you: your bark shallnot be strandedmuch longer.And that we who lvere despairing have now come to your cave and no longer despair-that is but a signand symbolthat thosebetter than we are on their way to you; for this is what is on ils way to you: the last remnantof God amongme&that is, all the men of great longing, of great nausea,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 894 of great disgusl all who do not want to live unlessthey Iearn to hope again,unlessthey leam from yov, O 7.anthustra, the great hope." Thus spokethe king at the right, and he seizedZarathustra's hand to kiss it; but Zarathustraresisted his venerationand steppedback, startled, silent, and as if be were suddenly fleeing into remote distances.But after a little while he was back with his guestsagain, looking at them with bright, examining eyes, and he said: "My guests,you highermen, let rne speakto you in plain and clear German. It was not for yw that I waited in thesemountains.('?ain and clear German?Cooil Godl" the king at the left said at this point, in an aside.'One can seethat he doesnot know our dear Germans,this wise man from the Eastt But what he meansis 'coarseGermart';well, thesedaysthat is not the worstof tastes.") 'You may indeedall be higher men," continuedZarathustrg'but for me you arenot high and strongenough. For me-that means,for the inexorablein me that is silent but will not always remain silent. And if you do belongto me, it is not as my right arm. For whoever standson sick and weak legs himself, as you do, wants consid,erationabove all, whether he knows it or hides it from himself. To my arms and my legs, however, f showno consideration;I showmy uaniors tw consid.etatbn: how then could you be fttf.or my war? With you I should spoil my eveqyvictory. And some among you would collapseas soon as they heard the loud roll of rry dnrns. 'Nor are you beautiful and wellborn enoughfor me. I need clean, smoothmirrors for my doctrines;on your surfaceevenmy own imageis distorted.Many a burden, many a reminiscencepresson your shoulders;many a wicled dwarf crouchesin your nools. There is hidden
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTH PART 395 mob in you too. And even though you may be high and of a higherkind, muchin you is crookedand misshapen. Thereis no smith in the world who could hammeryou right and straightfor me. "You afe mere bridgesrmay men higher than you stride over you. You signify steps: therefore do not be angry with him who climbs over you to h'isheight. A genuineson and perfect heir may yet grow from your seed,even for me: but that is distant. You yourselves are not thoseto whommy heritageand namebelong. 'It is not for you that I wait in thesemountains;it is not rvith you that I am to go down for the last time. Only as signshave you cometo me, that thosehigher than you are evennow on their way to me: nof the men of great longing,of great nausea,of great disgus! and that which you called tlle remnant of God; no, no, trhreet{mesno! It is for othersthat I wait here in these mountains,and I will not lift my feet from here without them; it is for ttrose who are higher, stronger, more triumphant, and morecheerful,suchasare built pelpendicular in body and soul: laughinglions must comel 'O ^y strllge gueststHave you not yet heard anything of my children?And that they are on their way to me?Speakto me of my gardens,of my blessedisles,of my new beauty-why do you not speakto me of that? This presentI beseechfrom your love, that you spealc to me of my children. For this I am rich, for this I grew poor; what did I not give, what would I not give to h3ve 91e thing: thesechildren, this living plantatior5 theselife-heesof my will and my highesthopet" - Thus spokeZarathustrqand ruaaJrty he sioppeilin his speech,for a longingcameover him, and he closed his eyesand mouth as his heart was moved.And all his gueststoo fell silent and stoodstill in dismay; only the old soothsayermade signsand gestureswittr his hinds.
s96
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
TIIE
LAST
SUPPER
For it was at this point that the soothsayerintemrpted the welcome,pushedforward like onewho hasno time to lose, seizedZarathustra'shand, and shouted:"But than another: ZarathustralOne thing is more necessary thus you say yourself, Well then, one thing is more necessaryto ne now than anything else. A word at the right time: did you not invite me to supper?And here are many who have comea long way. Surely,you alone?Also,all of you have would not feed us speeches thought far too much, for rny taste,of freezing,drowning, sufiocating,and otherphysicaldistress;but nobody has thought of my distress,namely,starving-" (Thus spokethe soothsayer;but when Zarathustra's animalsheard thesewords they ran away in fright. For they saw that whatever they had brought home during the day would not be enough to fill this one soothsayer.) *Including dlng of thirs!" continuedthe soothsayer. 'And although I hear water splashing nearby like speechesof wisdom-that is, abundantly and tirelessly -I want wirw. Not everybodyis a born water drinker like Zarathustra.Nor is water ftt for the weary and wilted: are deservewine. That alone gives suddenconvalescence and immediatehealth." askedfor wine, it On this occasion,as the soothsayer happenedthat the king at the left, the taciturn one, got 'For wine," he said,"we have a word in too, for once. taken care-I together with my brother, the king at the right; we have wine enough-a whole ass-load.So nothing is lacking but bread." 'Breadf countered Zarathustra, and he laughed. 'Bread is the one thing hemrits do not have. But man
FOURTHPART 3yt THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: does not live by bread alone,but also of the meat of -good lambs, of which I have two. These should be slaughteredquickly and preparedtastily with sage: I love it that way. Nor is there a lack of roots and fruiN good enoughevenfor gourmetsand gourmands,nor of nuts and other riddles to be cracked.Thus we shall have a goodmeal in a short while. But whoeverwould join in the eating must also help in the preparation, even a king may be even the kings. For at Zar,athustra's cook." This suggestionappealedto the hearts of all; only the voluntary beggarobjectedto meat and wine and 'Now listen spices. to this glutton Zarathustra!"he said jokingly; 'is that why one goes into cavesand high rnountainranges,to preparesuch meals?Now indeed I understandwhat he once taught us: 'Praised be a little povertyl' And why he wants to abolishbeggars.' 'as .Be of good cheer,"Zarathustraansweredhim, I am. Stick to your custom,my excellentfriend, crush your grains,drink your water, praiseyour fare; as long as it makesyou gayl oI am a law only for my kind, I am no law for all. But whoeverbelongswith me must have strongbones and light feet, be eager for war and festivals,not gloomy,no dreamer,as readyfor what is most dificult as for his festival, healthy and wholesome.The best belongsto my kind and to me; and when one doesnot give it to us, we take it: the best food, the purestsky, the strongestthoughts,the most beautiful women.' Thus spoke Zarathustra;but the king at the right retorted: 'Strange! Hae one ever heard such clever things out of the mouth of a sage?And verily, he is t.heshangestsagewho is alsocleverand no ass." Thus spokethe king at the righ! and he wasamazed; but the asscommentedon his speechwith evil intent:
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Yeah-Yuh.But this was the be$nning of that longdrarvnout meal which the chroniclescall "the last sup per.'And in the cpurseof it, notbing elsewas disctrssed but tfte htgher nwn. ON TIIE
IIIGITER
MAN
The ftrst time I tot-rn I committed the folly ""-" folly: I stoodin the market place. of hermits, the great And as I spoke to all, I spoke to none. But in the evening, tighhope walkers and corpseswere my companions;and I myself was almost I corpse.But with the new morning a new truth came to me: I learned to sa)/,'Of what concemto me are market and mob and mob noiseand long mob ears?" You higher men, learn this from me: in the market place nobody believesin higher men. And if you want to speaktherg very welll But the mob blinls: "We are all equal." 'You higher men"-thus blinks the mob-*there are no higher men, we are all equal, man is man; before God we are all equal." Before Godl But now this god has died. And before the mob we do not want to be equal. You higher men, go alvay from the market placel Before Godt But rro* ati god has died. You higher men, this god was your greatestdanger.It is only since he lies in his tomb that you have been resurrected. Only now the great noon comes;only now the higher man becomes-lord. Have you understoodthis word, O my brothen? You are startled?Do your hearts becomegiddy? Does the
FOURTHPART 399 THUS SPOKEZ,ARATHUSTRA: abyss yawn before you? Does the hellhound horvl at youPWell then,you highermen!Only now is the mountain of man'sfuture in labor. God died: now &? want the overmanto live. 3 'How is man to be The most coicerned ask today: preserved?"But Zarathustrais the ffrst and only one to ask: "How is man to be overcome?" I havethe overmanat heart,that is my ffrst and only concern-and nof man: not the neighbor,not the Poorest, not the most ailing, not the best.. O my brothers,what I can love in man is that he is en overture and a going under. And in you too there is much that lets me love and hope.That you despise, you higher men, that lets me hope. For the great despisersare the great reverers. That you have despaired,in that there is much to revere.For you did not learn how to surrender,you did not learn petty Prudences.For today the little people lord it: they all preach surrenderand resignationand prudence and and the long etceteraof the industryand consideration smallvirtues. What is womanish,what derivesfrom the servile,and that wouldno*'become especiallythe mob hodgepodge: Nausea!Nauseal masterof all humandestiny.O n-ausea! That asksand asksand never grows weary: "How is man to be preserved best, longest, most agreeably?" With that-they are the mastersof today. Overcomethesemastersof today, O rny brothersthese small people, they erc the overmarfs greatest danger. Youhighermen,overcomethe smallvirtues,the small prudences,the grain-of-sandconsideration,the ants' riffrafl the wretched contentmen! the thappinessof the
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 4OO greatest number"l And rather despair than surrender. And verily, I love you for not knowing how to live today, you higher menl For thus gon live best. 4 Do you have courage,O my brothers?Are you brave? Not couragebeforewitnesses but the courageof hermits and eagles,which is no longerwatchedevenby a gd. Cold souls,mules,the blind, and the drunken I do not call brave. Braveis he who knowsfear but corquarc fear, who seesthe abyss,but with pride. Who seesthe abyssbut with the eyes of an eagle; who graspsthe abysswith the talorn of an eagl*that nan has courage. 5 is evil"-thus said all the wisestto comfort me. Alas, if only it were still tme todayl For evil is man's best strength. "Man must become better and more evil"-thus f teach. The greatestevil is necessaryfor the overman's best. It may have been good for that preacher of the little people that he suffered and tried to bear man's sin. But I rejoice over great sin as my great consolation. But this is not said for long ears. Not every word belongs in every mouth. These are delicate distant matters: they shouldnot be reachedfor by sheeps'hoofs. 'Man
6 do you suppose I have come to set You xou higher men, clo right what you have set wrong? Or that I have come to
you that su$er to bed. you more comfortably? Or to you that are restless,have gone astray or climbed astray,to showyou new and easierpaths? Nol Nol Three times nol Ever more, ever better ones
FOURTH PART 401 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: of your kind shall perish-for it shall be ever worse and harder for you. Thus alone-thus alone,man grows to the height where lightning strikes and breals him: lofty enough for lightning My mind and my longing are directed toward the feq the long, the distant; what are your many small short miseriesto mePYou do not yet suffer enoughto suit mel For you suffer from ;rourselves,you have not yet sufiered frcrn man. You would lie if you claimed otherwisel You all do not sufier from what I have suffered. 7 It is not enoughfor me that lightning no longer does any harm. I do not wish to conductit away: it shall learn to work for me. My wisdom has long gatheredlike a cloud; it is becomingstiller and darker. Thus doesevery wisdom that is yet to give birth to lightning bolts. For tlresemen of today I do not wish to be light,.ot to be called \ght, TheseI wish to blind. Lightdng of my wisdom!put out their eyesl 8' Will nothing beyondyour capacity: there is a wicked falsenessamongthosewho will beyondtheir capacity. Especially if they will great thingsl For they arouse mistrust againstgreat things, thesesubtle counterfeiters and actors-uptil ffnally they are false before themselves, squinters, whited worm-eaten decay, cloaked with strong words, with display-virtues,with splendid false deeds. Take good care there, you higher menl For nothing today is more preciousto me and rarer than honesty. Is this today not the mobt? But the mob does not
THE PORTABLENIETZSGHE 4@ know what is grea! what is small, what is straight and bonest:it is innocentlycrooked,it alwayslies. I Have a good mistrust today, you higher men, you stouthearted ones, you openheartedonesl And keep your reasonssecretl For this today is the mob's. What the mob oncelearnedto believewithout reasons -who could overthrow that with reasons? And in the market place one convinceswith gestures. But reasonsmakethe mob mistrusdul. And if truth was victoriousfor once,then askyourself with good mistrust:'What strongenor fought for it?' Bewareof the scholarstThey hate you, for they are sterile. They have cold, dried-up eyes; before them every bird lies unplumed. Suchmen boastthat they do not lie: but the inability to lie is far from the love of truth. Bewaret Freedom from fever is not yet knowledge by any meanst I do not believe chilled spirits. Whoever is unable to lie doesnot know what buth is. to If you would go high, use your own legs. Do not let yourselvesbe carried up; do not sit on the backsand headsof others.But you mounteda horse?You are now riding quickly up to your goal? All right, my friendt But your lamefoot is sitting on the horsetoo. Whenyou reach your goal, when you jump off your horse
You creators,you higher ment One is pregnant only with one'sown child. Do not let yourselvesbe gulled and beguiled! Who, after all, is your neighbor?And
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTII PART 4OO even if you act "for the neighbor"-you still do not create for him. Unlearn this "for," you creatorst Your very virtue wants that you do nothing *for" and *in order" and 'tecause." You shall plug up your ears againstthese false little words. "For the neighbor" is only the virtue of the little peopler there one says'birds of a feathero 'one and hand washesthe other." They have neither the right nor the strength lor your egoism.In your egoism, you creators,is the cautionand providenceof the pregnant.What no one has yet laid eyeson, the fruit: that your whole love sheltersand savesand nourishes. Where your whole love is, with your child, there is also your whole virtue. Your work, your will, that is gour'neighbor": do not let yourselvesbe gulled with false values! L2
You creators,you higher menl Whoever has to give birth is sick; but whoeverhas given birth is unclean. Ask women: one does not give birth becauseit is 'fun. Painmakeshensand poetscackle. You creators,there is much that is uncleanin you That is becauseyou had to be mothers. |, new child: oh, how much new fflth has alsocome into the world! Go asidetAnd whoeverhas given birth shouldwashhis soul clean. Do not be virtuous l"ri"t"a your strength! And do not desire anything of yourselvesagainstprobability. lValk ln the footprints where your fathers' virtue ya-lkedbeforeyou. How would you climb high if your fathers'will doesnot climb with youP But whoeverwould be a ffrstlingshouldbewarelest
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE & he also become a lastling. And wherever the vices of your fathers are, there you should not want to represent saints. If your fathers consorted with women, strong wines, and wild boars, what would it be if you wanted ehastity of yourself? It would be fo\! Verily, it seems much to me if such a man is the husband of one or two or three women. And if he founded monasteries and wrote over the door, "The way to sainthood," I should yet say, What for? It is another folly. He founded a reformatory and refuge for himsel{: may it do him goodt But I do not believe in it. In solitude, whatever one has brought into it growsalso the inner beast. Therefore solitude is inadvisable for many. Has there been anything fflthier on earth so far than desert saints?Around them not only was the devil loose, but also the swine. r4 Shy, ashamed, awkward, like a tiger whose leap has failed: thus I have often seen you slink aside, you higher men. A throw had failed you. But, you dicethrowers, what does it matter? You have not learned to gamble and jest as one must gamble and jest. Do we not always sit at a big iesting-and-gaming table? And if something great has failed you, does it follow that you yourselves are failures? And if you yourselves are failures, does it follow that man is a failure? But if man is a failure-well thent r5 The higher its type, the more rarely a thing succeeds. t I \ I Yo,t higher men here, have you not all failed? \ Be of good cheer, what does it matter? How much is still possible! Leam to laugh at yourselves as one must laugh!
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:FOURTH PART 40tt Is it any wonder that you failed and only half succeeded,being half broken?Is not somethingthronging and pushingin you-man's future? Mans greatest distanceand depth and what in him is lofty to the stars, his tremendous strength-are not all these frothing againsteach other in your pot? Is it any wonder that many a pot breaks?Learn to laugh at yourselvesas one must laughl You higher men, how much is still possiblel And verily, how much has alreadysucceededlHow rich is the earth in little good perfect things, in what has turned out welll Phce Iittle goodperfectthingsaroundyou, O higher II | \ men! Their golden ripenessheals the heart. What is | \ perfect teacheshope.
ti
rG
,.Y
What has so far been Was it not the word of him who silll who laugh here"? Dd he himself ffnd no reasons on earth for laughing? Then he searchedvery badly. Even a child could ffnd reasonshere. He did not love enough: else he would also have loved us who laugh. But he hated and mocked us: howling and gnashing of teeth he promised us. Does one have to curse right away, where one does not love? That seemsbad taste to me. But thus he acted, being unconditional. He came from the mob. And he himself simply did not love enough: else he would not have been so wroth that one did not love him. All great love does not uant lovel it wants more. Avoid all such unconditional people! llhey are a poor sick sorf a sort of mob: they look sourly at this life, they have the evil eye for this earth. Avoid all such unconditional peoplel They have heavy feet and sult{f
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
hearts: they do not know how to dance. How should the earth be light for them? t7 All good things approachtheir goal crookedly.Like eats,they arch their backs,they purr inwardly over their approachinghappiness:all good thingslaugh. A man's stride betrays whether he has found his own way; behold me walking! But whoeverapproaches his goaldances.And verily, I havenot becomea statue: I do not yet standthere, stifl stupid, stony,a column; I love to run swiftly. And though there are swampsand thick melancholyon earth, whoeverhas light feet runs evenover mud and dancesas on sweptice. Lift up your hearts, my brothers, high, higherl Ancl do not forget your legs either. Lift up your legs too, you gooddancers;and better yet, standon your headst
r8 This crown of him who laughs,this rose-wreath crown: I myself have put on this crown, I myself have pronouncedmy laughter holy. Nobody else have I found strongenoughfor this today. Zarathustrathe dancer,Zarathustrathe light, waves with his wings, ready for fight, waving at all birds, ready and heady,h"pptly lightheaded;Zarathwtrathe not impatient soothsayer, Zarathustrathe sooth-laugher, not unconditional,one who lovesleapsand side-leaps: I myself have put on this crown! 19 Lift up your hearts, my brothers,high, higherl And do not forget your legs either. Lift up your legs too, you good dancers;and better yet, standon your headst In happinesstoo tlere are heavy animals; there are
FOURTHPART 407 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: pondrous-pedesthrough and through. Curiously,they Iabor, like an elephant laboring to stand on its head. But it is still better to be foolish from happinessthan better to danceponderously foolish from unhappiness; you lamely. That would leam my wisdom than to walk from me: even the worst thing has two good reverse sides-even the worst thing hasgood dancinglegs; that you would leam, you higher men, to put yourselveson your right legslThat you would unlearnnursingmelanOh, how sadeventhe mob's choly.andall mob-sadnessl clownsseemto me todaylBut this todayis the rnob's. 20
Be like the wincl nrshing out of his mountain caves: he wishes to dance to his own pipe; the seashemble and leap under his feet. What gives asseswings, what milks lionessespraised be this good intractable spirit that comeslike a cyclone to all today and to all the mob. What is averse to thistle-headsand casuists'heads and to all wilted leaves and weeds-praised be this wild, good,, free storm spirit that danceson swampsand on melancholy as on meadows.What hates the mobt blethercrocks and all the bungled gloomy brood-praised be this spirit of all free spirits, the laughing gale that blows dust into the eyesof all the black-sighted,soreblighted. iou higher men, the worst about you is that all of you havenot learnedto danceasonemustdance-dancing away over yourselveslWhat doesit matter that you are failures? How much is still possiblel So learn to laugh away over yourselveslLift up your hearts, you good dancers,high, higherl And do not forget good laughter.This crown of him who laughs,this rose-wreath crown: to you, my brotherq I throw this crown. Laugh-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 408 ter I have pronourrcedholy; you higher men,learn to laughl THE
SONC OF MELANCHOLY 1
While Zarathustradeliveredthesediscourseshe stood near the entranceof his cave; but with the last words he slipped away from his guestsand fled into the open for a short while. 'O 'O happy pure smells about mel" he cried out. silenceabout met But where are my animals?Come here, come here, my eagle and my serpentlTell me, my animals: these higher men, all of them-Jo they perhaps snellbad? O pure smellsabout met Only now I know and feel how much I love you, my animalsl And Zarathustraspoke once more: 'I love you, my animals."But the eagleand the serpentpressedcloseto him as he spokethesewords, and looked up to him. In this way the three of them were together silently, and they snified and sipped the good air together. For the air out here was better than amongthe higher men 'L
But Zarathustrahad scarcelyleft his cave when the old magiciangot up, lookedaroundcunningln and said: 'IIe hasgoneoutl And immediately,you highermenif I may tickle you with this laudatory, flattering name, as he did-immediatd my wicked spirit of deception and magic seizesme, my melancholydevil, who is through and through an adversaryof this Zarathustraforgive himl Now he warrtsto showyou his magic;he has his hour right now; in vain do I wrestle with this wil spirit. Of all of you, whatever honors you may confer on yoursetveswith words, whether you call yourselves'free spirits or'tnrthfuf or bscetics of the spirit'
FOURTHPART 409 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: 'the unbound" 'the great lon$ers'---of all of you or or who, like me, are suffering of.tle greatrurweo,for whom the old god has died and for whom no new god lies as yet in cradles and swaddling clothes--of all of you my evil spirit and magic devil is fond. "I know you, you higher men; I know him; I also know this monsterwhom I love againstmy will, this Zarathustra:he himself sometimesseemsto me like a beautifulmaskof a saint,like a new strangemasquerade in which my evil spirit, the melancholy devil, enjoys himself. I love Zarathustra,it often seemsto me, for the sakeof my evil spirit. 'But even now he attacksme and forces me, this spirit of melancholy,this devil of the dusk; and verily, you higher men, he hasthe desir*-you may well open your eyes widel-he has the desire to crlme naked; whether male or female I do not know yet-but he is coming,he is forcing me; alas,openup your sensestThe day is fading away, eveningis now comingto all things, even to the best things: hear then and see,you higher men, what kind of devil, whether man or womarqtbis spirit of eveningmelancholyist" Thus spoke the old magician, looked around orrnoirgly, and then reachedfor his haqp. 3 fn dim, de-lighted air When the dew's comfort is beginning To well down to the eartlr, Unseen,unheardFor tenderis the footwearof Tte comforter dew, as of all that gently comfortDo you rememberthen, remember,hot heart, How you thirsted onoe For heavenlytears and dr,ippingdew,
4TO
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Thirsting, scorehedand weary, While on yellow patbs in the grass The glancesof the evening sun were running Maliciously around you tbrough black treesBlinding, glowing glances of the sun, mocking your pain? 'you? of trnrth?"they mockedme; Nol Only poetl An animal, cunning,preylng, prowling, That must lie, That must knowingly, willingly lie: Lustingfor prey, Colorfully masked, A mask for itself, Prey for itself?&is, the suitor of truth? Nol Only fooll Only poetl Onlv speakinqcolorfullv, colotfully out of fools'-masls, Only screamilng on mendaciousword bridges, CUirUing "ro,rid raiirbows, Oncolorful Betweenfalseheavens And falseearths, Roaming,hoveringQnIg foollOnly Poetl
'suitor
Thfu-the suitor of truth? Not still, stifi, smooth,ctld, Becomea statue, A pillarof God N6t placedbeforetemPles, A eoil's gatequardNi'l an elnemiof all suchtruth statues' More at homl in any desertthan beforetemples,
FOURTHPART 417 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Full of cats'prankishness, Leaping through everywindowSrvishtinto everychance, Sniffingfor everyjungle, Eagerly,Ionginglysnifing: That in jungles Amongcolorfully speckledbeastsof prey You might roam,sinfully soundand colorful, beautiful With lustinglips, Blissfully mocking, blissfully hellish, blissfully blooilthirstyPrepng, prowling, peeringOr like the eaglethat gazeslong, Long with ffxedeyesinto abysses, Ilis oun abvssesOh, how thiy wind downward, Lower and lower And into ever deeperdeptbs!Then, Suddenly,straightassight In brandishedftghg PounceosLambs, Abruptly down, hot-hungry, Lusting for lambs, Hatingall lambsouls, Grimly hating whateverlooks Sheepish,lamb-eyed,curly-wooled, Gray, with lambs'and sheeps'goodwill Thus EagleJike,panther-like, Are the poet'slongings, Aregourlongingsundera thousandmasks, Youfool! Youpoett
4I2
TIIE PORTABLENTETZSCHB
You that haveseenman As god and sheep: Tearingto piecesthegod in man No lessthan the sheepin mar5 And laughing while tearingTftts, thts is your blisst A panthert and eagle'sblissl A poett and fool's bhssl" In dim, deJightedair When the moons sickleis beginning To creep, green between crimson Reds,enviouslyHating the dan Secretlystepfor step Scythingat slopingrosemeads Till they sink an4 ashen, Drown in nightThus I myselfoncesank Out of my truth-madnesg Out of my dayJongings, Weary of day, sickfrom the lightSankdownward"eveningward,shadowward, Bumedbyone tnrth, And thirsty: Do you rememberstill" remember,hot hearf How you thirsted? That I be banisheil Fronalltruth Onlg fooA Onlg poetl
TIIUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTH PART 418 ON SCIENCE
llhus sang the magician; and all who were gathered there went unwittingly as birds into the net of his cunning and melancholy lust. Only the conscientiousin spirit was not caught: quickly he took the haqp away 'Air! Let goodairt Let from the magicianand cried: in in Zarathustral You are making this cave sultry and poisonous,you wicked old magician.You are seducing us, you false and subtle one, to unknown desiresand vrildernesses.And bewarewhen zuch as you start making speechesand fus about ttuth! Woe unto all free spirits who do not watch out against such magiciansl Then it is over with their freedom:you teachus and lure us back into prisons.You old melancholydevil: out of your lament a bird call lures us; you are like those whose praise of chastity secretly invites to vo\tuous detghts." Thus spokethe conscientiousman; but the old magician lookedaround,enjoyedhis triumph, and for its sake swallowed the annoyancecausedhim by the conscientious man. 'Be stilll" he said in a modestvoice; 'good songswant to resoundwell; after good songsone should long keep still. Thus do all thesehigher men. But perhaps you have understoodvery little of my song?In you there is litde of a magic spiriL" oYoupraise me by distinguishingme from yourself,' retorted the conscientiousman. "Well thenl But you others,what do I see?You are all still sitting there with lusting eyes:you free souls,where is your freedomgone? You are almostlike men, it seemsto me, who have long watched wicked, dancing, naked girls: your souls ari dancing too. In you, you higher men, there must be
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 4L4 more of what the ma$cian calls his evil qpirit of magic and deception:we must be different lAnd veriln we talked and thought together enough before Zarathushareturned home to his cavefor me to lcnowthat we are difierent. We alsoseekdifferent things up here,you and I. For I seekmore security,that is why f came to Zarathustra.For he is the ftrmest tower and will today,when everythingis tottering and all the earttr is quaking. But you-when I seethe eyesyou make, it almost seemsto me that you are seekingmore insecaatgr: more thrills, more danger,more earthguakes.You desire, I should almost presume-forgive my presump tion, you higher men-you desirethe mostwicked, most dangerouslife of which I am most afraid: the life of wild animals,woods,caves,steepmountains,and labyrinthian gorges.And it is not the leadersouf of danger who appeal to you most, but thosewho induce you to leaveall ways,the seducers.But evenif suchdesirein you is real,it still seemsimpossibleto me. 'For fear is the original and basic feeling of man; from'fear everythingis explicable,originalsin and original virtue. From fear my own virture too has grown, and it is called: science.For the fear of wild animals, that was bred in man longestof all-including the animal he harbors inside himself and fears: Zarathustra calls it'the inner beast.'Suchlong old fear, ffnally reffned, qpiritualized,spiritual-today, it seemsto me, this is called science." Thus spoke the conscientiousman; but Zarathustra, who was just coming back into his cave and had heard and guessedthis last speech,ttuew a handful of roses at the conscientious man and laughedat his 'truths." 'WhatP he cried. "What did I hear iust now? Veriln it seemsto me that you are a fool, or that I am one my-
FOURTHPART 415 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: simply reverse. For fear-that self; and your truth'I ls our exception.But courageand adventureand pleasure in the uncertain,in the undared-cotrage seemsto me man'swholeprehistory.He enviedthe wildest,most courageousanimalsand robbed all their virtues: only thus did he becomeman. ?/rrscourage,ffnally refined, spiritualized, spiritual, this human couragewith eagles' wingsand serpents'wisdom-thof,it seemsto me,is today called-' *Tnrathustra!" all who were sifting together cried as with one mouth, and they raiseda great laughterthat rose abovethem like a heavycloud. The magiciantoo Iaughedand said cleverlyr"Well then, he is gone,my evil spirit. And have I myself not warned you of him when I said that he was a deceiver,a spirit of lies and deceptions? Especiallywhen he appeaninaked.But am I responsiblefor his wiles?Did f createhim and the world?Well then,let us makeup againand makemerryt And althoughZarathustralooksangry-look at him, he bearsme a grudge-before night falls he will learn again to love me and laud me; he cannotlive long without committingsuch follies. He loveshis enemies;this art he understandsbest of all whom I have ever seen.But he takesrevengefor this on his friends." I'hus spokethe old magician,and the higher men applaudedhim; soZarathustrawalkedaroundand shook his friends'handswith malice and love-like one u'ho has to make up for somethingand apologize.But when he reachedthe door of his cave,behold,he again felt a desirefor the good air outsideand for his animalsand he wanted to slip out.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
4IA AMONC
DAUCI{TERS
OF
TIIE
WILDENNESS
t 'Do not go awayl" said the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra'sshadow. "Stay with us. Else our old musty depressionmight seizeus again. Even now that old magician has given us a sampleof his worst; and behold,that goodpiouspope therehas tearsin his eyesand eyes and has has again aqain embarkedon the melancholv. the sea seaof melancholy. Thesekings may still put up a bold front, for of all of us here today they have learned this best. But if they had no witness,I wager that for them too the evil routine would resume-the evil routine of drifting clouds, of moist melancholy,of overcastskies,of stolen suns,of howling autumn winds-the evil rouHne of our own howling and cries of distress.Stay with us, O Zarathustrat There is much hidden misery here that desiresto speak,much evening,much cloud, much musty air. You have nourishedus with strong virile food and forceful rnaxims:do not let the feeble femininespirits seizeus again after dinner! You alone make the air around you shong and clear. Have I ever found such good air an5 where on earth as here in your cave?Many countries have I seen;my nosehas learnedto test and estimate many kinds of air: but in your cave my nostrils are tasting tleir greatestpleasure. "Unless it were-unless it were-oh, for$ve an old reminiscence!Forgive me an old afterdinner song that I once composedamong daughtersof the wilderness: for near them the air was equally good, bright, and oriental; never was I farther away from cloudn moist, melancholy old Europe. In those ilays I loved such Oriental girls and other blue skiesover which no clouds and thoughts hang. You would not believe how nicely
THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART 4I7 they sat there when they were not dancing, deep but without thoughts,Iike little secrets,like beribbonedriddles, like afterdinner nuts--
Wildemessgrous: uoe unto him thot harborsullilBrtwsses! Hahl Solemnl Indeedsolemnl Aworthy beginning. African solemnity. Worthy of a lion Or of amoral howlingmonkeyBut nothingfor you, My most charming friends At whosefeet I, As the ffrst Europeanunder palm trees, Am allowedto sit. Selah. Wonderful surelyl There I sit noq Near the wildemessand already So far from the wildernessagain,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 4T8 And in no wey wild or wantonMerely swallowed By this smallestoasis: It iust opened,yawning, Its lovely orifice, The most fragrant of all little mouthsAnd I fell in And down and through-among you, My mostcharmingfriends.Selah. Hail, hail to that whale If he let his guestbe that Well ofil You do understand, My scholarlyallusion? Hail to his belly ff it wasas Lovely an oasisbelly As this-which, however,I should certainly doub't; After all, I comefrom Europe Which is more doubt-addictedthan all Elderly marriedwomen. May God improve itt Amen. There I sit now, In this smallestoasis, Justlike a date, Brown, sweet,tlrough, oozinggold, lusting For the round mouth of a girl, But evenmore for girlish, Ice-cold,snow-white,cutting Incisors:for after these Pantsthe heart of all hot dates.Selah. Similar, all-too-similar
FOURTHPART 4I9 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTR.{: To the aforementionedfruit, I lie here,sniffedat And playedabout By little wingedbugsAlso by still smaller, More foolish,more sinful lVishesand notionsEnvelopedby you, Silentand foreboding Girl-cats, Dudu and SuleikaEnEthinsed,to crowdmany Feelingsinto oneword (May God forgiveme This linguisticsin!)I sit here,snifing the bestair, Verill', paradiseair, Bright, light air, golden-striped, As goodair as ever Fell down from the moonWhether by chance Or did it happenfrom prankishness? As the old poetsrelate I, beinga doubter,however,should Doubt it; after all, I come From Europe Which is more doubt-addictedthan all Elderly married rilomen. May Godimproveitl Amen. Drinking this most beautiful air, My nostrilsdistendedlike cups' Without future, without reminiscences, Thus I sit here, O
TTIE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 420 My mostcharmingfriends, And am watchingthe palm tree As, like a dancer,shecurves And swervesand swaysaboveher hip* One doesit too, if one watcheslong. Like a dancerwho, as it would seemto me, Has stood too long, dangerouslylong Always, alwaysonly on one little leg. She hasforgotten,it would seemto me, The otherleg. In vain, at least, I lookedfor the missed Twin jewelNamely,the other legIn the holy proximity Of her mostlovely,most delicate Flimsy little fan-, flutter-, and tinsel-skirt. Yes,if you would, my beautifulfriends, Believeme wholly: Shehaslostitl It is gonet Forevergonel The otherlegt What a,shameabout that lovely other legl 'Where may it be stayingand mourning,forsaken? The lonely leg? Perhapsafraid of a Grim, blond, curly J-ionmonster?Or evennow Gnawedaway,nibbledawayMisery,alaslalaslNibbledawaytSelah. Oh do not weep, Soft heartst Do not weep,you
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: FOURTHPART 42I Date hearts!Milk bosomsl You little licorice Ileart-sacsl Weep no more, Pale Dudul Be a man, SuleikalCouragetCouragel Or should Somethinginvigorating, heart-invigorating Be appropriatehere? An unctuousmaxim? A solemnexhortation? Haht Comeup, dignityt Virtuousdignity! Europeandignityl Blow, blow again, Bellows of virtuel Hah! Once more roar, Roarmorallyl As a moral lion Roar before the daughtersof the wildemessl For virtuous howling, My mostcharminggirls, Is more than anything else Eurypgan fervor, Europeanravenoushunger. And there I stand even now As a European; I cannot do else; God help mel Amen. WMemess grous: uoe unto hln thd harbors uildprtwsses!
422
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE TIIE
AWAI(ENING I
After the songof the wandererand shadow,the cave all at oncebecamefull of noiseand laughter;and since all of the assembled gueststalked at the sametime and even the ass,thus encouraged, would no longerremain silent, Zarathustrawas overcomeby a slight aversion and by scornfor his compannalthoughhe enjoyedtheir gaiety.For this seemedto him a sign of convalescence. So he slipped out into the open and talked to his animals. 'Where is their distressnowP' he said, and imme*Up diately he felt relief from his own little annoyance. here with me, it seems,they have unlearnedcrying in distress.Although unfortunatelynot yet crying in general.'And Zarathustracoveredup his ears,for just then the Yeah-Yuhof the asswas strangelyblendedwith the jubilating noiseof thesehighermen. *They are merry,'he beganagain,'and, who knows? perhapsat their host'sexpense.And if they learnedto . laughfrom me, it still is not my laughterthat they have learned.But what doesit matter?They are old people, convalescingin their own way, laughing in their own way; my earshave sufieredworse things without becoming grumpy. This day representsa triumph: he is even now retreating, he is feeing, the spirit of graoity, my old archenemy.How happily this day wants to end after beginning so badly and gravely. And it uants to end.Even now eveningis approachingrhe is riding over the sea,this goodrider. How the blessedone,retuming home,swaysin his crimsonsaddle!The sky looksclear, the world lies deep: O all you strangevisitors,living witb me is well worth whilel"
FOURTHPART 423 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Thus spokeZarathustra.And again the clamor and laughter of the higher men cameto him from the cave, 'They are biting, my bait is workso he beganagain: ing: from them too their enemyretreats,the spirit of gravity. Even now they have learnedto laugh at themthe savor selves:do I hearright?My virile nourishment, and strengthof my words,are taking effect;and veriln I did not feed them bloatingvegetables,but warriors' nourishment,conquerors'nourishment:I wakenednent desires.New hopesthrob in their arms and legs; their heartsstretch out. They are ffnding new words, soon Suchnourishment, their spirit will breatheprankishness. to be sure, may not be suitable for children or for nostalgicold and younglittle females.Their entrailsare persuadedin a differentway; I am not their physician and teacher. oNausea is retreatingfrom thesehigher men. Well then! That is my triumph. In my realm they feel safe, all stupid shameruns away,they unburdenthemselves. They unburdentheir heads,good hourscomeback to them, they celebrateand chew the cud: they become grateful. Thrs I take to be the best sign: they become grateful. Not much longer, and they will think up festivalsand put up monumentsto their old friends. They are convalescing!" Thus spokeZarathustragaily to his heart,and he lookedout; but his animalspressed close to him and respectedhis happinessand his silence. 2
Suddenly,however,Zarathustra'sears were startled; for the cave which had so far been full of noiseand laughtersuddenlybecamedeathly still, while his nose perceiveda pleasantsmokeand incense,as of burning pine cones."What is going on? What are they doing?"
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 424 he asked himself, and he stole to the entrance to'watch his guests,unnoticed. Bu! wonder upon wonderl What did he have to see with his own eves? 'They have all become pious again, they are praying, they are mad!" he said, and he was amazed beyond measure. And indeed, all these higher men, the two kings, the retired pope, the wicked magician, the voluntary beggar, the wanderer and shadow, the old soothsayer, the conscientiousin spirit, and the ugliest manthey were all kneeling like children and devout little old women and adoring the ass.And just then the ugliest man began to gurgle and snort as if something inexpressible wanted to get out of him; but when he really found words, behold, it was a pious, strange litany to glorify the adored and censed ass.And this litany went thus: Amen! And praise and honor and wisdom and thanks and glory and strength be to our god, from everlasting to everlasting! But the assbrayed: Yea-Yuh. He carries our burden, he took upon himself the form of a seryant, he is patient of heart and never says No; and whoever loves his God, chastiseshim. But the assbrayed: Yea-Yuh. He does not speak, except he always says Yca to the world he created: thus he praises his world. It is his cleverness that does not speak: thus he is rarely found to be wrong. But the assbrayed: Yea-Yuh. Plain-looking, he walks through the world. Gray is the bodv color in which he shrouds his virtue. If he has spirit, he hides it; but everybody believes in his long ean|. But the assbrayed: Yea-Yuh.
FOURTHPART 425 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: What hidden wisdom it is that he has long earsand only saysYea and never Nol Has he not createdthe world in his own image, namely, as stupid as possible? But the assbrayed:Yea-Yuh. You walk on straight and crooked paths; it matte$ litde to you what seemsstraight or crookedto us men. Beyondgood and evil is your kingdom.It is your innocencenot to know what innocenceis. But the assbrayed:Yea-Yuh. Behold how you push none away from you, not the beggarsnor the kings.Little childrenyou let comeunto you, and when sinnersenticeyou, you simply say YeaYutu But the assbrayed:Yea-Yuh. and fresh ffgs;you do not despise You love she-asses food. A thisds 6.ld.s yorrr heart if you happen to be hungry. In this lies the wisdom of a god. But the assbrayed: Yea-Yuh. THE
ASS FESTIVAL I
At this point of the litany Zarathustracould no longer control himself and himself shouted Yea-Yuh,even louder than the ass,and he jumped right into the middle of his guests,who had gonemad. "But what are you doing there,childrenof men?"he cried ashe pulled the prayrng men up from the foor. "AIas, if someoneother ihan Zarathustra had watched youl Everyone would iudge that with your new faith you were_the worst or the most foolishof all little old women. blasphemers 'And you too, old pope, how do you reconcile this with yourself tbat you adore an ass in this way as a godf - 'O 'forgive me, but Zarathustra,-replied the pope,
I'26 THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE in what pertainsto God I am even more enlightened than you. And that is proper. Better to adore God in this form than in no form at alll Think about this maxim, my noble friend: you will quickly see that there is wisdomin sucha maxim. "He who said,'God is a spirit' took the biggeststep and leap to disbelief that anybody has yet taken on earth: sucha sayirrgcan hardly be redressedon earth. My old heart leapsand jumps that there is still something on earth to adore.For$ve, O Zarathustra,an old pious pope'sheartl" 'And you,' Zarathustrasaid to the wanderer and shadow,*you call and consideryourselfa free spirit? And you go in for such idolatry and popery?You are behaving even more wickedly, verily, tlnn with your wicked brown girls, you wicked new believer." "Wickedly enough," replied the wanderer and *you shadow; are right: but is it my fault? The old god lives again,Zarathustra,you may saywhat you will. It is all the fault of the ugliestman: he hasawakenedhim again. And when he saysthat he once killed him-in the caseof godsd,eathis alwaysa mereprejudice." 'And you," said Zarathustra,*you wicked old magician, what have you done?Who should henceforthbelieve in you in this free age,if gou believein suchtheo. asininities?It was a stupidity that you committed;how could you, you clever one, commit such a stupidity?" "O Zarathustra,"repliedthe clevermagician,"you are right, it was a stupidity;and it washard enoughfor rue too." 'And you of all said Zarathustrato the conftople,' 'consider scientiousin spiril with a ffnger alongside your nose: doesn't anything here go against your conseience?Is your spirit not too clean for such praying and the hazeof thesecanters?"
FOURTHPART 427 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: *There somethingin this," repliedthe conscientious is man,placinga ffngeralongsidehis nose;"thereis something in this spectaclethat evenpleasesmy conscience. PerhapsI may not believe in God; but it is certain that God seemsrelatively most credible to me in this form. God is supposedto be eternal, accordingto the witneSsof the mostpious:whoeverhastbat muchtime, takes his time. As slowly and as stupidly as possible: in tftts way, one like that can still get very far. -And whoever has too much spirit might well grow foolishlyfond of stupidity and folly itself. Think about yourself, O ZarathustratYou yourself-veriln overabundanceand wisdomcouid easilyturn you too into an ass.Is not the perfect sagefond of walking on the most crookedways?The evidenceshowsthis, O 7.anthustra-and yort are the evidence." 'And you yourself; ffnally," said Zarathusba,turn ing to the ugliest man, who still lay on the ground, and raisinghis arm towardthe ass (for he was offeringhim wine to drink). 'Speak, you inexpressibleone, what have you done?You seemchangedto me, your eyesare glowing, the cloak of the sublimelies over your ugliness:wltat have you done?Is it true what they say,that you have wakenedhim again?And why? Had he not beenkilled and ffnishedfor a reason?You yourselfseem awakenedto me: what have you done?Why did you revert? Why did you convert yourself?Speak,you inexpressible onel" 'O Zarathustra," replied the ugliestman, 'you are a roguel Whether that one still lives or lives again or is thoroughlydead-which of the two of us knows that best?I ask you. But one thing I do know; it was from you yourselfthat I learnedit once,O Zarathustra:whoever would kill most thoroughly,laughs. ''Not by wrath doesone kill, but by laughter'-thus
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 421' you once spoke. O Zarathustra,you hidden one, you annihilator without wrath, you dangero* r"itl-you are a roguet' 2
But tben it happenedthat Zarathustra,amazedat all these roguish answers,jumped back toward the door of his cave an4 turning against all his guests,cried out with a strongvoice: 'O you roguish fools, all of you, you jesterstWhy do you dissembleand hide beforeme?How all your hearts wriggled with pleasureand malice that at last you had becomeagain as little children, that is, pious; that at last you did again what children do, namely,prayed, folded your hands,and said,'Dear Godl' But now leave tlris nursery my own cave, where all childishnessis at home todayt Cool your hot children'sprankishness and the noise of your hearts out therel 'To be sure: excE)t ye becomeas little children,ye shall not enter into that kingdom of heaven. (And Zarathustra pointed upward with his hands.) But we have no wish whatever to enter into the kingdom of heaven: we have becomemen-ro ue oant the earth." 3 'iO And yet once more Zarathustrabegan to speak. my new friends," he said, "you strangehigher men, horv well I like you now sinceyou have becomegay again. Verily, you have all blossomed;it seemsto me such flowers as you are require new festioals,a little brave somedivine serviceand assfestival,someold nonsense, gay fool of a Zarathustra,a roaring wind that blowsyour soulsbright. "Do not forget this night and this ass festival, you higher men. Thrisyou invented when you were with me
FOURTHPART 429 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: and I take that for a good sign: such things are invented only by convalescents. 'And when you celebrateit again, this ass festival, do it for your own sakes,and alsodo it for my sake.And in remembranceof.me.Ihus spokeZarathustra. TIIE
DNUNTEN
SONG
I
Meanwhile one after the other had stepped out into the open and into the cool reflective night; but Zarathustra himself led the ugliest man by the hand to show him his night-world and the big round moori and the silvery waterfalls near his cave. There they stood together at last in silenee, old people all of them, but with cornforted brave hearts and secretly amazed at feeling so well on this eartlr; but the secreey of tlre night came closer and closer to their hearts. And again Zarathustra 'lHow thought to himself: well I like them now, these hrgher menl" But he did not say it out loud, for he respected their happinessand their silence. But then that happened which, on that whole long amazing day, was the most amazing thing of all: the ugliest man began once more and for the last time to gurgle and snort, and when he found words, behold, a question jumped out of his mouth, round and clean, a good, deep, clear question, which moved the hearts of all who were listening to him. "My friends, all of you," said the ugliest man, "what do you think? For the sake of this day, I am for the ffrst time satisffed that I have lived mv whole life. And that I attest so much is still not for me. Living "no,rgh on earth is worth while: one day, one festival with Zarathustra, taught me to love the earth.
4}O
''Was
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
that lrte?' I want to say to death. "\Mellthenl Oncemoret' "My friends, what do you think? Do you not want to say to death as I do: Was that \te? For Zarathustrat sakelWell thent Oncemorelo - Thus spokethe ugliestman; but it was not long before midnight. And what do you supposehappened then?As soonas the highermen had heardhis guestion they all at once became consciousof how they had changedand convalescedand to whom they owed this: then they jumped toward Zarathustrato thank, revere, earesshim, and kiss his hands,each accordingto his own manner;and somewere laughingand somewere cryrng.But the old soothsayer wasdancingwith ioy; and even if, as someof the chroniclersthink, he was full of sweetwine, he wascertainlystill fuller of the sweetness of life and he had renouncedall weariness.There are even somewho relate that the assdancedtoo, and that it had not been for nothing that the ugliest man had given him wine to drink before. Now it may have been so or otherwise;and if the assreally did not dancethat night, yet greater and strangerwonders occurred than the dancingof an asswould havebeen.In short,as the proverb of Zarathustrasays: '"\iVhatdoes it matterP 2
But when this happenedto the ugliest rnan,T.atathustra stood there like a drunkard: his eyesgrew dim, his tongue failed, his feet stumbled. And who could guess what thoughts were then running over Zarathustra'ssoul?But his spirit fed visibly and few ahead and wasin remotedistancesand, as it were,"on a high ridge," as it is written, "between two seas,wandering like a heavy cloud betweenpast and future." But as
FOURTHPART 431 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: the higher men held him in their arms, he gradually recoveredhis sensesto someextentand with his hands warded off the throng of the reveringand worried; yet he did not speak.All at once, however, he turned his head quickly, for he seemedto be hearingsomething. Then he put one ffngerto his mouthand said,"Come!" And presentlyit becamequiet and secretaround; but from the depth the sound of a bell came up slowly. Zarathustraand the highermen listenedfor it; but then he put one finger to his mouth anothertime and said again, "Come! Come! Mid,nigh,tapproaches.? And his voice had changed.But still he did not stir from his place. Then it grew still more quiet and secret, and everythinglistened,even the assand Zarathustra's animals of honor, the eagle and the serpent,as well as Zarathustra's caveand the big cool moonand the night itself. But Zarathustra. put his hand to his mouth, for ^Come! the third time and said, Come!Let us uander rnu! The hour hascome:Iet us uander into th.e night!' 3 You higher men, midnight approaches:I want to whisper somethingto you as that old bell whispersit into my ears-as secretly,asterribly, ascordiallyas that midnight bell, which has experiencedmore than any man, saysit to me. It has countedthe beatseven of your fathers' hearts and smarts. Alast Alas! How it sighs!How it laughsin a dreaml Old deep,deep midnight! Still! Still! Here thingsare heardthat by day may not becomeloud; but now in the cool air, when all the noiseof your heartstoo hasbecomestill-now it speaks, now it is heard,now it stealsinto nocturnal,overawake souls.Alas!AlastHow it sighslHow it laughsin a dreamt
THE PORTABLENIETZSCIIE 432 Do you not hear how it speals secretly, terribly, cordially to gou-the old deep, deep midnight? O rnan,takecare! 4 Woe unto me! Where is time gonePHave I not sunk into deepwells?The world sleeps.Alasl Alasl The dog howls, the moon shines.Soonerwould I die, die rather than tell you what my midnight heart &inks now. Now I havedied. It is gone.Spider,what do you spin around me? Do you want blood?Alas! Alasl The dew falls, the hour approaches-the hour when I shiver and freeze,which asksand asks and asks,'Who has heart enoughfor it? Who shall be the lord of the earth?Who will say: thus shall you run, you big and litde riverslo The hour approaches:O man, you higher man, take care! This speech is for delicate eani, for yorr ears: Wha daesthe dpep mid.nightdcclare? 5 I am carried away,my soul dances.Days workt Dayb work! Who shall be the lord of the earth? The moonis cool;the wind is silent.Alasl Alast Have you fown high enoughyet? You have dancrd: but a leg b no wing. You good dancers,now all pleasureis goner wine has becomelees, every cup has becomebrittle, the tombs stammer.You did not fly high enough: now *Redeem the tombs stammer, the deadl Why doesthe night last so long? Does not the moon make us drunken?" You higher men, redeem the tombs, awaken tlre coqpsestAlas, why does the worm still burrow? The bour approaches,approaches;the bell hums, the heart still rattles, the deathwatch, the heart-worm still burrows Alast Alasl The uorW is deep,
THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA:DOURTHPART 439 6 Sweet lyrel Sweet lpet I love your sound, your drunkenranunculus'eroaking.From how long ago,from how far away your soundcomesto me, from the distant ponds of love! You old bell, you sweet lyre! Every pain has torn into your heart, father-pain,fathers' pain, forefathers' pain; your speech grew ripe-ripe as golden autumn and afternoon, as my hermit's head; now you say: the world itself has grown ripe, the grape is turning brown, now it would die, die of happiness.You higher men, do you not smell it? A smell is secretly welling up, a fragrance and smell of eternity, a roseblessed,brorm gold-winefragraneeof old happiness,of tbe drunl<en happiness of dlng at midnight, that sings: the world is deep, deeper than d,ay hail been au(ne. Leaveme! Leavemet f I* aoopure for you. Do not touch met Did not my world becomeperfect just now? My skinis too pure for your hands.kave me,you stupid, boorish,dumb dayl Is not the midnight brighter?The purest shall be the lords of the eartlr-the most unknown, the stronges! the midnight souls who are brighter and deeper than any day. O day, you grope for me? You seekmy happiness?I seemrich to you, lonely, a treasurepit, a gold-chamber? O world, you want me? Am I worldly to you? Am I spiritual to you? Am I godlike to you? But day and world, you are too ponderous;haveclevererhands,reach for deeperhappiness,for deeperunhappiness, reachfor any god, do not reach for me: my unhappiness,my happinessis deep,you strangeday, but I am yet no god, no god's helL ilcep is its uos.
434
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 8
God'swoe is deeper,you strangeworld! Reachfor God's woe, not for me! What am I? a drunken sweet lp*a midnight lyre, an ominousbell-frogthat nobody understandsbut that must speak,beforethe deaf, you higher men. For you do not understandme! Gone! Gone! O youth! O noon! O afternoon!Now evening has come and night and midnight-the dog howls, the rvind: is not the wind a dog? It whines,it yelps, it howls. Alasl Alasl How the midnight sighst How it laughs,how it rattlesand wheezesl How she speakssoberlynow, this drunken poetessl Perhapsshe overdrankher drunkenness? She became overawake?She ruminates?Her woe she ruminatesin a dream,the old deepmidnight,and evenmoreher ioy. For joy, even if woe is deep, iog is deeper get than agong. I You vinel Why do you praiseme?Did I not cut you? f am cruel, you bleed; what does your praise of my drunkencrueltv mean? "What has becomeperfect,all that is ripe-wants to die"-thus you speak.Blessed,blessedbe the vintager's knifel But all that is unripe wants to live: woe! Woe entreats:Got Away, woet But all that suffers wants to live, that it may becomeripe and joyousand longing-longing for what is farther, higher, brighter. 'I want heirs"-thus speaksall that sufiers; 'I rvant children, I do not want myself." Joy, however,doesnot want heirs, or childrer-joy wants itself, wants eternity, wants recurrence,wants everything etemally the same. Woe says,"Break, bleed, heartl Wander, legl Wing,
FOURTHPART 435 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: fy! Get on! Upl Painl" Well then, old heartz Woe hnplores,'Go!" 1('
You higher men, what do you think? Am I a A dreamer?A drunkard?An interpreterof soothsayer? dreams?A midnight bell? A drop of dew?A hazeand fragranceof etemity?Do you not hear it? Do you not smell it? Iust now my world becameperfect;midnight too is noon;pain too is a joy; cursestoo are a blessing; night too is a sun-go away or you will learnr a sage too is a fool. Haveyou eversaidYesto a singlejoy? O my friends, then you said Yes too to alJ woe. All things are entangled,ensnared,enamored;if ever you wanted one 'Tou please thing twice,if everyou said, me, happiness! Abide, momentl" then you wanted all back. All anew, all eternally, all entangled,ensnared,enamored-oh, then you Looed, the world. Eternal ones,love it eternally and evermore;and to woe too, you say: go, but return! F or all ioy uants
All joy wantsthe eternityof all things,wantshoney, wantslees,wantsdrunkenmidnight,lvantstombs,wants tomb-tears'comfort, wants gilded evening glow. WInt doesjoy not r,r'ant?It is thirstier, rnore cordial, hungrier, more terrible, more secret than all woe; it wants itself, it bites inta itself, the ring's will strives in it; it wants love, it wants hatred, it is overrich,gives, throrvsaway, begs that one might take it, thanls the taker, it would like to be hated; so rich is joy that it thirsts for woe, for hell, for hatred, for disgrace,for the cripple, f.or uorld-this world, oh, you kriow itt You higher men, for you it longs,joy, the intractable
THE PORTADLENTETZSCTTE $a blessedone-for your woe, you failures. All eternal joy longsfor failures.For all joy wantsitself, henceit also wanls agony. O happiness,O painl Oh, break, heartl You higher men, do learn this, joy wants etemity. Joy deep wants the eternity of all things, wants d,eep,watl/os eternfiy, L2
Have you now learnedmy song?Have you guessedits intent? WelI then, you higher men, sing me now my round. Now you yourselvessing me the song whose 'Once More" and whosemeaningis 'tnto all name is etemity"-sing, you higher mer\ Zarathustra'sroundl O man, take carel What doesthe deepmidnight declare? -I was asleePFrom e deep dream I woke and swean The world is deep, Deeperthan day had beenawar€. Deep is its woe; Joy--deeper yet than agony: Woe implores:Go! But all ioy wants eternityWanb deep,wantsdeep eternity." THE
SIGN
In the morning after this night, Zarathustra iumped up from his resting place, girded his loins, and came out of his cave glowing and strong as a moming sun that comes out of dark rnountains. "Ybu great star,- he said as he had said once before, 'you deep eye of happiness,what would your happiness be bad you not those for whom you shine? And if thuy
FOURTHPART 437 THUS SPOKEZARATHUSTRA: stayed in their chamberseven after you had awakened and come and given and distributed, how angry would your proud shamebel 'lMell then, they still sleep,thesehigher men, while It is f am awake:thesearenot my proper companions. not for them tlrat I wait here in my mountains.I want to go to my work, to my day: but they do not understand the signs of my morning; my stride is for them no summonsto awaken. They still sleep in my cave, their dream still drinks of my drunken songs.The ear that listens for me, the heedful ear is lacking in their Iimbs.l Thus had. Zarathustraspokento his heart when the sun rose;then he lookedguestioninginto the height,for he heard the shaqpcry of his eagleabovehim. "Well thent" he cried back; "thus it pleasesand suits me. ItIy animalsare awake,for I am awake.My eagleis awake and honorsthe sun as I do. With eagletalonshe grasps for &e new light. You are the right animalsfor me; I love you.But I still lackthe right men." Thus spokeZarathustra.But then it happenedthat he suddenlyheardhimselfsurroundedasby innumerable swarmingand fluttering birds: but the whirring of so many wings and the throngingabout his head were so great that he closedhis eyes.And verily, like a cloud it came over him, Iike a cloud of arrowsthat emptiesitself over a new enemy.But behold,hereit was a cloud of love,and overa newfriend. 'What is happeningto me?" thought Zarathustrain his suqprisedheart, and slowly he sat down on the big stonethat lay nearthe exit of his cave.But ashe reached out with his handsaroundand over and under himself, warding off the afiectionatebirds, behold, something stranger yet happened to him: for unwittingly he reachedinto a thick warrn mane; and at the sametime
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 4}8 he heard a roar in front of him-a soft, long lion roar. 'The sign is at hand,,"said Zarathustra,and a change came over his heart. And indeed, as it becamelight beforehim, a mighty yellow animallay at his feet and pressedits head againsthis kneesand out of love did not want to let go of him, and acted like a dog that finds its old masteragain.But the doveswere no less eagerin their love than the lion; and whenevera dove slippedover the lion's nose,the lion shookits head and wasamazedand laughed. About all this Zarathustraspokebut a singlesentence: 'My childrenare near,my children."Then he became entirely silent. But his heart was loosed, and tears droppedfrom his eyesand fell on his hands.And he no longerheededanythingand sat theremotionless,without warding ofi the animalsany more.Then the doves few about and sat on his shouldersand caressedhis white hair and did not weary of tendernessand ;ubilation. But the stronglion kept licking up the tearsthat fell on Zarathustra'shands and roared and growled bashfully.Thusactedtheseanimals. All this lasteda long time,or a shorttime: for properly speaking,thereis ao time on earth for suchthings.But meanwhilethe higher men in Zarathustra'scave had awakenedand aningecl themselvesin a processionto meet Zarathustraand bid him good morning;for they had found when they awakenedthat he was no longer among them. But when they reachedthe door of the caveand the soundof their stepsran aheadof them,the lion started violently, turned away frorn Zarathustra suddenly,and iumpedtoward the cave,roaringsavagely. But when the higher men heard it roar, they all cried out as with a single mouth, and they fled back and in a flash. disappeared
FOURTHPART 439 THUSSPOKEZARATHUSTRA: Zarathustrahimself,however,dazedand strange,rose from his seat,looked around,stoodthere amazed,ques'What did tioned his heart, reflected,and was alone. 'what happenedto me I hear?"he ffnally said slowly; iust nowfl' And presentlymemory came to him and with a single glance he grasped everything that had 'Here is the happenedbetweenyesterdayand today. 'where I sat yesterstone," he said, stroking his beard, cameto me, and day morning;and here the soothsayer here I ffrst heard the cry which I heard just now, the greatcry of distress. 'O you highermen,it was Vourdistressthat this old soothsayer prophesiedto me yesterdaymorning;to your distresshe rvantedto seduceand tempt me. O Zarathustra,he said to me, I come to seduceyou to your ffnal sin. '"To my ffnal sin?" shouted Zarathustra,and he laughedangrilyat his own words;"uhat wasit that rvas savedup for me asmy final sin?" And oncemoreZarathustrabecameabsorbedin himself, and he sat down again on the big stoneand refected. Suddenlyhe jumped up. '?ity! Pity for the higher mant' he cried out, and his'face changedto bronze."Well then, tlnt hashad its timet My suffering and my pity for sufiering-what doesit matter? Am I concerned with happinessPI am concernedwith my uork, *Well thenl The lion came, my children are near, Zarathustrahas ripened,my hour has come:this is ny morning, my day is breaking: dse nou),rise, thou gred noon!" Thus spokeZarathustra,and he left his cave,glowing and strong as a morning sun that comesout of dark mountains.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
440
Norr (1884)1 ruling and of the the ruling rulers and The degeneration of rulers has made for the greatest mischief in history classeshas uIaJsEJ
ll4J
lrl4ug
rvr
Lllg
Srg4fEDl
llllJvrlls^
tlr
rurlvr/.
Without the Roman Caesars and Roman society, the insanity of Christianity would never have come to rule. When the lesser men begin to doubt whether there are higher men, then the danger is great. . . . When Nero and Caracalla sat up there, the paradox originated that "the lowest man is worth more than that man uP there.' And an image of God was spread which was as far removed as possible from the image of the most god on the cross. . . . powerful-the
Lrrrnns TO OVERBECK
Sils Maria, Septemberr,4, :.884 I seemto make eternally, which the mistake . . . This is that I imagine the sufierings of others as far greater than they really are. Ever since my childhood, the prop'tny greatest dangers lie in pity'' has been conosition ffrmed again and again. . . . Mzza, Decemberzz, :.884 . . . I am having translated into German for me (in writing) a lon$sh essayby Emerson, which gives some claritl about his development. If you want jt, it is at vo,r, iirnot"l and your *ife's. I do not know how much i would give if only I could bring it about, er post fasto, 'Published as section 874 of.The Will to Powet by N1etzsche'sexecutors.
LETTERS
ul
that such a glorious, great nature, rich in soul and spirit, might have gone through somestrict discipline, a really scientific eilucotion, As it is, in Emerson we ., . haveloslophilosophen TO
HIS
SISTER
Nizza, March r88S
. . . It seemsto me that a human being with the very harm, if he is best of intentionscan do immeasurable immodest enough to wish to proftt those whose spirit and will are concealedfrom him. . . . TO OVERBECK
SilsMaria,Julyz, 1885 . . . I hbld up beforemyself the imagesof Dante and Spinoza,who were better at acceptingthe lot of solitude. Of course, their way of thinking, compared to mine, was one which made solitudebearable;and in the end, for all thosewho somehowstill had a '.Godo for company,what f experienceas "solitude"rea\ did not yet exist. My life now consistsin the wish that it might be otherwisewith all thingsthan I comprehend, and that somebodymight make mg 'truths" app€ar incredibleto me. , , Norss Rule?Pressmy t)?e on others?Dreadful. fs not.my happinesspreciselythe sight of many who are difretvw? Problem.(xrv, rz6) ?r!t The will to a system:in a philosopher,morally speaking, a subtle corruption, a diseaseof the character;
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 442 amorally spe€king,his will to pose as more stupid than he is-more stupid,that rneans:stronger,simpler,more commandinglesseducated,moremasterful,moretyran nical. (xv, 3r3) t*€ Being nationalistic in the sensein which it is now demandedby public opinionwould, it seemsto me, be for us who are more spiritual not mere insipidity but dishonesty,a deliberatedeadeningof our better will and corutqelrce. (xrv,332)
Fnor* A DnAm FoR a Pnnrecr Fall of 1885 TIIE
WILL
TO POWEN
A book for thinking,nothingelse:it belongsto those to whom thinking is a delight, nothing else.That it is written in Germanis unUmely,to saythe least:I wish I had written it in French so that it might not appear to be a conffrmationof the aspirationsof the German Reich. \\e Germansof today are not thinkers any more: somethingelse delights and impressesthem. The will to power asa principlemight be intelligibleto them.AmongGermanstodaythe leastthinking is done. But who knows?In two generationsone will no longer requiretbe sacriffceinvolvedin any nationalisticsquandering of power, and in hebetation.(Formerly, I wished I had not writtenmy ZarathustroinGerman.)
BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL
448
Fn0m BeyondGoodanrlEvil Euton's
NotE
First published in 1886, aphoristic in appearence,this book is more continuousthan it seemsat ffrst glancs.
lszl
'OId Testament,"the boolc of divine In the Jewish in so grand iustice,thereare men,things,and speeches a style that Greek and Indian literature have nothing to comparevdth it. One standsin awe and reverencc before these tremendousremnantsof what man onqe was, and sad thoughtscometo one about ancientAsia and its jutting peninsula,Europe,which wants so deftnitely to signify,as againstfuia, the'progess of man." Of course,thosewho aremerelywretchedtamedomestie animals and lcnow only the wants of domesticanimals (like our cultivated people of today, including the ChrisHansof 'cultivated Christianity) need neither be amazednor evensorrywhen facedwith theseruins: the taste for the Old Testamentis a touchstoneof "greatness" and 'smallness."Perhapsthey will even ffnd the New Testament,the bookof gace, moreto their taste (it is full of the odor of the real, efieminate,stupid canter and petty soul). To have glued this New Testament,a kind of rococo of taste in every respect, to the Old Testamentto form one book-the "Bible," tlw bookthat is perhapsthe greatestaudacityand "sin against the spirit" which literary Europe has on its conscience.
44
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
IzsI The degee and kind of a person'ssexualityreachup into the ultimate pinnacle of his spirit. lrz6l A peopleis nafure'sdetour to arrive at six or seven great men-and then to get around them.
lrssl What is done out of love always occurs beyond good and evil.
l16+l 'The lawwasfor servants; to his said love Jesus Jews: God as I love him, as his son.What are moralsto us sonsof Codf lztzT It seemsto me moreand morethat the philosopher, as a npcessary man of tomorrow and the day after to' morro% has always found himself, and always had to ffnd himself, in opposition to his today: the ideal of the day was always his enemy. Hitherto all these extraordinary promoters of man, who are called philosophers, and who rarely have felt themselves to be friends of wisdom, but rather disagreeable fools and dangerous question marks, have found their task, their hard, unwanted, inescapable task, but ffnally also the greatness of their task, in being the bad conscienceof their time. By applying the knife vivisectionally to the very oirtues of the time they betrayed their own secret: to know of a neu greatnessof man, of a new untrodden way to his enhancement. Each time they have uncovered how much hlpocrisy, comfortableness, letting oneself go and
BEYONDGOODAND EVIL 445 letting oneself drop, how many lies, were concealed under the most honored ty?" of their c$ntemporary morality, how much virtue was outlioed. Each time they said: "We must proceed tlere, that way, where today you areleastat home." Confrontedwith a world of 'modern ideas,'which would banisheverybodyinto a cornerand a "specialty," a philosopher-if there could be any philosophersto' day-would be forced to deffne the geatness of man, the concept of "greatness,"in terms precisely of man's comprehensiveness and multiplicity, his wholenessin manifoldness:he would even determineworth and rank accordingto how much and how many things a person could bear and take upon himself, how far a person could extend his responsibility.Today the taste and virtue of the time weakenand thin out the will; nothing is more timely than weaknessof the will. Therefore,
At the time of Socrates,among men of fatigued instincts,amongthe conservatives of ancientAthenswho let themselvesg>"for happiness,"as they said; for pleasure,as they behaved-and who at the sametime still used the old ornate words to which their life had long ceasedto entitle them,irong was perhapsnecessary for greatnessof soul-that Socraticsircastil assurance of q" old physician and plebeian who cut ruthlessly into his own flesh,as well is into the flesh and heart of
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 449 'nobility," with a glance that said unmistakably: the oDont try to deceive me by dissimulation. Here we are equal." Today, conversely,when only the herd animal is honored and dispenseshonors in Europe, and when 'equality of rights'could all too easily be converted rinto an equality in violating rights-by that I mean, into a commonwar on all that is rare, stnnge, or privijleged, higher ru6uwr the r rvSvs, u.qur man, the urL rl6uwr higher rvurr soul, on the higher responsibility, and wealth of higher on the the \duty, icreative power and mastery-today mastery-today the the concept concept of Dower and icreative i
*Breatness" entai\ being noble,,.lvanting,to be byone| along capable capable of being difierent, standing self, being being , and having to live independently;and the philosopher rvill betray betraysomething somethinqof his own ideal when he posits: rrosits: 'He shall the greatest be who can be the loneliest,the rnosthidden, the most deviating,the human being beyond goodand evil, the masterof his virtues,he that is overrich in will. Preciselythis should be called greatnes,ejto be capable of being as manifold as whole, as rvide as full." And to ask this once more: today-is greatnesspossible? lzgol . . . The commandingsomething,which the people 'spirit o wants to be master over itself and its call surroundingsand to feel its mastery:it hasthe will from multiplicity to simpUcity-a will that would tie together, harness, be master, and that really is masterly. Its needs and capacitiesare thus the same as those the physiologistsffnd in everything that lives, grows, and reproduces.The power of the spirit to appropriatewhat is foreign manifestsitself in a strongtendencyto assimilate the new to the ol4 to simplify the manifold. . . .
THE GAY SCIENGE:BOOK V
447
FROM
The GayScience'BookY Bookv wasadded "T::::J;;""
in 1887..
ls+sI
The background, of qur cheerfuhuss. The greatest recent event-that'God is dead,' that the belief in the Christian God has ceasedto be believable-is even now beginning to cast its fint shadows over Europe. For the few, at least, whose eyes, whose stspicion in their eyes, is strong and sensitive enough for this spectacle, sone sun seemsto have set just now. . . . In the main, horvever, this may be said: the event itself is much too great, too distant, too far from the comprehensionof the many even for the tidings of it to be thought of as having anioed yet, not to speak of the notion that many people might know what has really happened here, and what must collapse now that this belief has been undermined -all that rvas built upon it, Ieaned on it, grew into il for example, our whole European morality. . . . Even we born guessersof riddles who are, as it were, waiting on the mountains, put tlere between today and tomorrow and stretched in the contradiction between today and tomorrow, we ffrstlings and premature bi*hs of the coming century, to whom the shadows that must soon envelop Europe really shouldhave appeared by now -why is it that even we look forward to it without any real compassionfc this darkening, and above all without any worry and fear for unseloes? Is it perhaps tbat
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 48 we are still too deeply impressedby the first consequencesof this event-and these first consequences, for us, are perhapsthe reverseof the consequences what one might expect: not at all sacland dark, but rather like a ne% scarcelydeseribablekind of light, dawn? happiness,relief, exhilaration,encouragement, Indeed, we philosophersand "free spirits" fcel as if a new dawn were shiningon us when we receivethe tidings that "the old god is dead"; our heart overflows At with gratitude,amazement, anticipation,expectation. last the horizonappearsfree againto us, even granted that it is not bright; at last our shipsmay ventrueout again,ventureout to face any danger;all the daring of the lover of knowledgeis permittedagain;the sea,oar sea,Iies open again;perhapstfrerehas neveryet been suchan "opensea."
Is++l How far ue too are still pious.In science,convictions hav'eno rightsof citizenship,asis saidwith goodreason. Only when they decideto descendto the modestyof a hypothesis,of a provisionalexperimentalpoint of view, of a regulativefiction, may they be grantedadmission and evena certain value within the realm of knowledge -though always with the restriction that they remain under police supervision,under the police of mistrust. But doesthis not mean,more preciselyconsidered,that a convictionmay obtainadmissionto scienceonly when it ceasesto be a conviction?Would not the discipline of the scientiffcspirit begin with this, no longer to permit oneselfany convictions?Probably that is how it is. But one must still ask whether it is not the casethat, in order that this discipline coulil begi.4 a conviction must have been there already,and even such a commanding and unconditional one that it sacriffced all
THE GAY SCIENCE:BOOK V 449 otherconvictionsfor its own sake.It is clearthat science too restson a faith; there is no sciencefuithout presup positions."The questionwhether truth is neededmust not only have been affirmedin advance,but affirmed to the extentthat the principle,the faith, the convictionis expressed:"nothing is neededmore than truth, and in value." relationto it everythingelsehasonly second-rate This unconditionalwill to truth: what is it? . . . What do you knorvin advanceof the characterof existence,to be ableto clecidewhetherthe greateradvantage is on the side of the unconditionallymistrustfulor of the unconditionallytrusting?Yet if both are required, much trust and much mistrust: wheneemight science then takeits unconditionalfaith, its conviction,on which it rests,that truth is moreimportantthan anythingelse, even than any other conviction?Just this conviction could not have comeinto being if both truth and untruth showcdthemselvesto be continuallyuseful,as is the case.Thus, though there undeniably exists a faith in science,it cannotowe its origin to sucha utilitarian calculus but it must rather have originated in *pite of of the'will the fact that the inutility and dangerousness 'truth at any pricer" are proved to it to truth," of continually. . . . Consequently,'will to trutn" doesnof mean'I will not let,myself be deceived"but-there is no choice'I will not deceive,not evenmyself":and,with this ue are onthe ground of morality.For one shouldaskoneself carefully: 'Why don't you want to deceive?"especially if it should appear-and it certainly does appear -that life dependson appearance;I mean,on error, simulation,deception,self-deception;and when life has, asa matterof fact, alwaysshownitself to be on the side of the most unscruptlouspolytrcpoi. Such an intent, charitably interpreted, could perhapsbe a quixotism, a
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 450 little enthusiasticimpudence; but it could also be something worse, namely, a destructive principle, hostile to *\{ll 'to mighrhe o .nncealed life. - to trylb'-that death. *-ffruf, the question "Why science?"Ieads back to the 'For moral problem, what end any morality at all" if *not life, nature, and history are moral"? . . . But one will have gathered what I am driving at, namely, that it always remains a metaTthgsicalfaith upon which our faith in sciencerests-that even we devoteesof knorvledge todan we godless ones and still take our fire too from the fame which a sands of years old has kindled: that Christian faith, which was also Plato's faith, that God is truth, that truth is divine. . . .
FROM
Towarda Genealogy of Morals gorton's Note This book of roughly two hundredpageswas ffrst published in 1887. It consistsof three inquiries, The ffrst, entitled 'Good and Evil versus Good and Bad," contrasts"slave 'master morality.' The origin of the former morality" and is found in ressentimenf.Nietzschehas reservationsabout 'master morality'' too, as he explains in the chapter on 'The 'Improvers' of Mankind" in The Tutilight of the 'Guilt, Bad ConIilols. The secondinquiry has the title: 'What is the sciencc,and Related Matters." The third: Meaningof Asceticldeals?' The decision to present in this volume, unabridgeil, Nietzsche'slater works rather than his earliest efforts, and to representhis aphoristicbooksby selections,seemedobvious. The Gerwaloggis a late work and not aphoristic, but
TOWARD A GENEALOGYOT MOR.{LS 451 its maior ideas, and much else too, will be gleanedfrom Zarathustto and the boola of 1888 which are ofiered cornplete-and from the following selectionswhich represent the core of each of the three inquiries. GOOD AND EVIL
VENSUS GOOD AND BAD
lrol The slaves'revolt in moralsbeginswith this, that rcssentiment itself becomes creative and gives birth to values: the ressentiment of those who are denied the real reaction, that of the deed, and u'ho compensate rvith an imaginary revenge. Whereas all noble morality grows out of a triumphant affirmation of oneself, slave morality immediately says No to what comes from outside, to what is different, to what js not oneself: and f/rdsNo is its creative deed. This reversal of the value-
positing glance-this neces$er7direction outward insteadof back to oneself-is of the nature of. ressenti-1 nent: to come into being, slave morality requiresan I outsideworld, a counterw6rld;physiologiJaily Jpeaking,I it requires external stimuli in order to react at all: I i its action is at bottom alwaysa reaction. The reverseis true of the noble way of evaluating: it actsand growsspontaneously, it seeksout its opposite on-lyin order to sfy Yes to iiself still more grai6fully, still more--iubilantly; and its negativeconcepl,.base,,, 'mean," '01U," ir only an after-born,pale, ;ontrasting imagein relationto the positivebasicconcept,which is nourishedthrolqh and through with life and passion: olvewho arenoble,good,beautiful,happyt" . . . To be unableto take one'sqwn enemies,accidents, and misdeeds seriously for long-that is the signof strongandrich natures.. . . Suc[ a mansimply shakesoff with one shrug much vermin that would hivl
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 452 buried itself deep in others; here alone is it also possible -355s6ing that it is possible at all on earth-that there be real "hoe of.one's enemies." How much respect has a noble person for his enemies! And such respect is already a bridge to love. After all, he demands his enemy \ &r himself, as his distinction; he can stand no enemy one in whom there is nothing to be despised and '' ,{but much to be honored. Conversely, imagine "the enemy" as conceived by a man of.ressentiment-and here precisely is his deed, his creation: he has conceived "the 'the evil enemy," eoil ond'-and indeed as the fundamental concept from whieh he then derives, as an afterimage and counterinstance, a "good one"-himseU. GUILT, AND
BAD CONS.CIENCE,
NELATED
MATTERS
Itzl Let us add a word here concerning the origin and aim of punishment-two problerns which are, or should be, distinct. Unfortunately, they are usually confounded. . . . For every kind of historiography there is no more important proposition than this, which has been diseovered with so much effort, but now also ought to be discovered once and for all: the cause of the origin of a thing and its eventual usefulness,its actual employment and incorporation into a system of aims, lie worlds apart. . . .
l rsl To retum to the subject, namely punishment, we must distinguish two things: ffrst, the relatively enduring aspect, the custom, the act, the "drama," a certain strict successionof procedures; on the other hand, the fuid aspect, the meaning, the aim, the expectation which
OF MORALS 453 TOIVARDA GENEALOGY attendsthe executionof theseprocedures.. . . Today it is impossible to say deffnitely rahg punishment fu meted out: all conceptsin which a whole processis comprehendedsemeiotically,escape deffnition; only what has no history is deffnable. . . . WIIAT
IS THE
MTANINC
OF ASCETIC
TPEE,T.S?
lzsI Apart from the asceticideal, mar*the animal man -had no meaninghitherto.His existenceon earth had no goal.'Why haveman at allP'was a questionwithout an answer.. . . Preciselythis was the meaningof the aseeticideal, that somethingwas lacking, that a tremendousgap surroundedman: he did not know how to justifn explain, or affirm himself, he sufiered from the problemof his meaning.He sufferedin other ways too; he wasin the main a sicklganimal:yet sufferingas suchwas not his problem,but that the answerwas lack*Why ing to the cry of the question sufier?"Man, asthe to sufanimalthat is mostcourageous, mostaccustomed fering, doesnot negatesufferingas sueh: he uants il, evenseeksit out, providedoneshowshim somemeaniltg in it, someuherifore of sufiering.The meaningl"snfi of sufiering, not sufiering itself, was the curse which I hitherto lay spreadout over mankind-and the ascetic I id.eal ofereil mankind meaning. So far it has been the I only meaning; any meaning at all is better than nomeaningat all; the aseeticidealwasin everyrespectthe faute de mieux par excellencethat we have had so far. Through this, sufiering wasinterpreted; the tremendous emptinessseemedfilled out; the door was closedto all suicidal nihilism. The interpretation undoubtedly involved new suffering,even more profound, more inward, more poisonous,that gnawed at life more: it
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
placed all zuffering in tlre perspective of grih. Yet in spite of that
tr,ant something-and to begin with, it matterednot
1 ;h;L *f,"t t","ot fro* he w"anted:the uill itself wos I noeil.- In the q9, oT can hardly lonceal what i!
was that this will really expressedwhen it received its directionfrom the asceticideal: that hatred against everythinghuman,even more, againsteverythinganimal, everythingmaterial,this disgustwith the senses, with reason itself, this fear of happinessand beautJ', this desire to get away from all semblance,change, becoming, death, wish, desire itself-the meaning of all this, should we dare to comprehendit, is a will to nothingness,a will running counter to life, a revolt of life; against the most fundamentalpresuppositions yet it is and remainsa u:ill! And, to repeat at the end what I saidin the beginning,g$E1g3l want nothing man even wants nothingnBss,
Lprrrn ro OwnrBcx Nizza,Februaryzg, t887 . . . I dirl not evenknow the nameof Dostoevskijust a few weeksageuneducated personthat I am, not readingany iournals.An accidentalreachof the arm in a bookstorebroughtto my attentionXesprit souterrain, a work just translatedinto French. (It was a similar in my zrst year and with accidentwith Schopenhauer Stendhalin my 35th.) The instinct of kinship (or how shouldI nameit?) spokeup immediately;my joy was extraordinary:I must go back all the way to my ffrst acquaintancewith Stendhal'sRougeet Noir to remem-
LETTER TO OVERBECK 455 ber an equal joy. (It is two novellas,the ffrst really a pieceof music,oery strange,very un-Germanmusic;the second,a strokeof geniusin psycholog;r,a hnd of selfderision of the p68r oaut6v.l) Incidentalln these Greekshave a lot on their conscience-falsificationwas their true trade; the whole of Europeanpsychologyis sick with Greek superfwiality; and without that little trit of fudaisrHtc.z etc., etc. . . .
Notes (1887)'
t+8+1
'There is thinking; consequentlythere is that which thinls"-tbat is what Descartes'argument cames to. Yet this meanspositingour faith in the conceptof substanceas'a priori true." When there is thinking, something must be there which thinla-that is merely a formulation of our grammaticalhabit, which posits a doer for what is done. . . .
lszzl . . . Rational thought is inteqpretationaccording to a scbemewhich we cannot escape.
lzz6l Corcemlng the'Machtaoeflimf, of power.llhe will to power manifestsitself (a) amongthe suppressed, amongslavesof all kinds, as a will to "freedom": merely to get away appea$ as I *Know thyselfl" 'Pubtshed-aspart of The Witl to Puter by Nietzsche's ef,ecutors.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 456 the goal (morally and religiously:"responsibleonly to "evangelicalfreedom,"etc.); one'sown consciencer" (b) amonga strongertype which is growing up to reachfor power,as a will to overpower;if unsuccessful at first it may then limit itself to a will to 'justice," that is, to equalrights with the ruling type; (c) amongthe stronges!richest,most independerrt, and most courageousas "love of humanity," of the "people,"of the Gospel,of truth, of Cod; as pity, "selfsacrfice,"etc... .
lsssl Hatred of mediocrityis unworthy of a philosopher: it is almosta questionmark against'his"right to pirilosophy." Justbecausehe is the exception,he mustprotect the rule, and he must encourageself-conftdencein all the mediocre. lgrol Type of my disciples.To thosehumanbeingsin whom I have a stakeI wish sufiering,being forsaken,sickness, maltreatment,humiliation-I wish that that profound self-contempt, the tortureof mistrustof oneself,and the misery of him who is overcome,not remain unknown to them: I haveno prty for them becauseI wish them the only thing which canprove today whetheronehasworth or not-that oneholdsout.
Lr"rrnn ro Hrs Srsrnn r88z Christmas . . . You havecommittedoneof the greateststupidities-for yourselfand for mel Your association with an a foreignnessto my whole anti-Semiticchief expresses
457 LETTER TO HIS SISTER or with ire again and me again fills which way of life meiancholy. . . . It is a matter of honor with me to be absolutely clean and unequivocal in relation to anti' Semitism, namely, opposed to it, as I am in my writings. I have recently been persecuted with letters and AntdSemitic Corrcspondence Sheets, My disgust with this party (which would likc the benefit of my name only -oo welll) is as prortounced as possible,but the relation to Fiirster,l as well as the afterafiects of my former publisher, the anti-semitic Schmeitzner, always brings the adherents of this disagreeable party back to the idea that I must belong to them after all. . . . It arouses mistrust against my character, as if publicly I condemned something which I favored secretly-and that I am unable to do anything against it, that the name of Zarathustra is used in every Anti-Semitic Conespondence Sheet,has almost made me sick several times. . . .
Norrs (r888)'z143 wto PQmcQ
legrl
6:4pa{$v
4]*3
That the value of an act should depend on what preceded it in conscious'ness-how false that is! And yet morality has been measured that way, even crirninality. The value of an act must be measured by its consequences,the utilitarians say: measuring it by its origin implies an impossibility, namely, knowing the origin. But does one know the consequences?Perhaps as far as ffve steps. Who could say what an act stimulates, excites, provokes against itselfP As a stimulus? Perhaps t Nietzsche'ssister'shusband. 'Published as part of. The Will to Pouer by Nietzsche's executors.
I*58 THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE as the ignition spark for an e4plosiveP The utilitarians are naive.And in the end we would ffrst haveto know what is useful: here too their vision extendsfor only five steps.They have no conceptionof any great economy which does not know how to dispense with evil. . . .
[+8rl Againstthat positivismwhich stopsbeforepbenomena,saying"thereare onlyfacts,"I shouldsay: no, it is preciselyfactsthat do not exist,only interpretotions.,..
[8r+] Artists are not the men of great passion,whatever they may try to tell us and themselves. And that for two reasons:they have no shamebefore themselves(they observethemselveswhile they lioe; they lie in wait for themselves, they are too curious),and they alsohaveno shamebeforegreatpassion(they exploitit artistically). Secondly,their vampire-their talent-generally begrudges them any such squancieringof energy as is involvedin passion.With a talent,oneis alsothe victim of that talent: one lives under the vampirismof one's talent. One is not ffnishedwith one'spassionbecauseone representsit: rather, one is finishedwith it ulwn one it. (Goetheteachesit differently;but it seems represents tlat here he wished to misunderstandhimself
NOTES(1888)
M'
lro5zl . . . Dionysusversus'the CruciffedOne": there )'ou have the contrast.It is not madyrdom that constitutes the difierence
ThelYagnerGase EDrron'g Notr An often very funny polemic of about fffty pages.The following excerpt is from section g. There is nothing on which Wagner has reflected so much as on redemption: his opera is the opera of
THE PORTABLENTETZSCHE 460 redemption. Somebodyor other alwayswants to be redeemed:now a little man, now a little woman-that is his problem. And how richly he varies his leitmotift What rare, what deeply thoughtful modulations!Who, if not Wagner,would have taught us that innocence prefers to redeem interesting sinners?(The case in Tanrihiitser.) Or that even the WanderingJew is redeemedand setdesdown when he marries?(The case in The Flying Dutchman.) Or that old conupted femalesprefer to be redeemedby chasteyoung men? (The caseof Kundry.) Or that beautiful girls like be5t to be redeemedby a knight, who is a Wagnerian?(The casein Die Meistersinger.lOr that evenmarriedwomen like being redeemedby a knight? (The caseof Isolde.) Or that "the old god," after having compromisedhimself morally in every way, is finally redeemedby a free spirit and immoralist?(The caseinThe Ring.) Admire this last profundity in particular! Do you understandit? I-beware of understandingit. That therearealsootherteachingsto be derivedfrom the rvorksenumeratedI would soonerprove than contest.That a Wagnerianballet can drive oneto despairand,to virtuet (Again the casein Tannhiiuser.)That may ensueif one doesnot go the worst consequences to bed at the right time. (Again the casein Lohengrin.) That one should never know too precisely whom one has really married. (For the third time, the case in Lohengrin.) Tdsnn anil lsolile gloriffesthe perfect spousewho, in 'But why a certain sifuation, has but one question: didnt you tell me that before? Nothing simpler than thatl" The answer: 'That I may not tell you; And what you ask, That you may never know."
THE WAGNER CASE 1At Lohmgrin contains a solemn excommunication of inqurry and questioning. Wagner here advocates the Chris'You tian concept: shall and must have faith." It is a crime against the highest, the holiest to be scientiffc. The Flying Dutchman preaches the sublime doetrine that woman settles even the most unsettled man-in 'iedeems Wagnerian terms, she him." Here we permit ourselvesa question: Supposethis were true-does that also mafte it desirable? What becomes of the eternal 'Wandering Jew'whom a wife adores and settles?He merely ceasesto be eternal; he gets married and does not concern us any more. . . .
TWITIGHT OF THE IDOTS OR,
HOW ONEPHITOSOPHIZES WITH A HAMMEN
Eorron's Pnprecg Nietzsche's last productive year, 1888, was also his most produetive. He began with The Wagner Ccse and endeil with Ntetache contra Wagneq and in between he dashed ofr Tuillght of the ldols, The Antichrtst, snd Ecce Homo. These books are sometimesdismissedas mere productsof insanity, and they certainly manilest a rapiil breakdou'nof the author'sinhibitions.In somepassagesof,TIte Antichrist, Nietzsche'sfury breaks all dams; and the madnessof his conceit in Ecce IIorui is harnessedonly by his motchless irony, though much of this is lost on readerswho do not know Nietzsche'searlier works. Comparedto such ffreworks, Tuilight of the Idols is relatively calm and sane,except for its title; and none of his other works containsan equally conrprehe,nsivesummary of his later philosophy and psychology. With its roughly one hundred pages, the book furnishes a ffne epitome of NieEsche. The spectaculartitle was an afterthought. Nietzschehad becomeinterested in Francis Bacon, and his own discussion of "Four Great Errors" probably reminded him of Bacon's "Four ldols.o Hence the thought of varying Wagner's title, Gdttediimmerung, by coining Giitzen-Diimmerung,'"Iwi463
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 464 Iight of the ldols,' When he wrote the preface, however, the title was gtill to be A Psycholngist'sldleness, But on Septembereo his worshipful admirer Peter Gast wrote him a fateful letter. Gast's real name was Ileinrich Kiiselitz. He was a composer,and he assistedNietzscheby copyingmanuscripts and reading proofs. Having completed his ftrst readingof this manuscript,he wrote: 'The title, A PsychoL ogist's ldleness, soundstoo unassumingto me when I think how it might impressother people: you have driven your artillery on the highestmountains,you have such guns as have never yet existed,and you need only shoot blindly o inspire terror all around. The stride lGangl of a giant, which makes the mountainsshake to their foundations,is no longer idlenessllrtilssiggangl.. . . So I beg you, if an incompetentpersonmay beg: a more sumptuous,more resplendent title!" Such adulatory fattery was surely what Nietzscheneededleast iust then. He changedthe title and added as a subtitle: "How One Philosophizes With a Harn, mer.- It is usually assumedthat he -""^n, sledgehammer. " The preface, however, from which the image is derived as an aftertbought, explains: idols 'are here touched with a hammer as with a tuning fork." This was the last work Nietzsche himself publisheil: when it came out in Januaqyr88g he was insaie and no Ionger aware of any of his works. The Ant|christ and Nietzache contra Wagner were not publisheil until r8g5; Ecca Homo only in r9o8. CONTENTS
Preface I\{axims and Arrows The Problem of Soqates 'Reasonin Philosophy How the "True World" Finally Becamea Fable Morality as Anti-Nature The Four Great Errors The 'Improvers" of Mankind What the GermansLack
465 466 475 479 485 486 492 5Qr 505
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS Skirmishesof an Untimely Man What I Owe to the Ancients the Hammer Speaks
485 513 556
sos
PREFACE
Maintaining cheerfulnessin the midst of a gloomy affair; fraught with immeasurableresponsibility, is no small feat; and yet what is neededmore than cheerhas no part fulness?Nothing succeedsif prankishness in it. Excessof strength alone is the proof of strength. A reoaluation of all oalues, this question mark, so that it castsshadowsupon the man black,sotremendous who puts it dow*-such a destinyof a task compelsone to run into the sun every rnomentto shakeofi a heavy, Every means is proper for all-too-heavyseriousness. this; every"case"I a caseof luck. Especially,usar,War hasalwaysbeenthe greatwisdom of all spirits who have become too inward, too profound; even in a wound thereis the power to heal.A maxim,the origin of which I withhold from scholarly curiosity, has long been my motto: lnuescant animl, olresclt oolnere oirtus.2 Another mode of convalescence-undercertain circumstanceseven more to my liking-is sounding out fulols.Therc are more idols than realities in the world: that is mg "eil eye" for this world; that is also my oevil. ear." For once to pose guestions here with a lnmmer, and, perhaps,to hear as a reply that famous hollow sound which speaksof bloated entrails-what a delight for one who has earseven behind his ears,for rAn alluslonto Nietzschds TleWagwr Ccse(1888),a 'Polemic. r "The spiritsincrease, vigor growsth,rougha wound.o
THE PORTABLENTETZSCHE &a me, an old psychologistand pied piper before whom iust that which would remain silent must becomeoutspoken. This essaytoo-the title betrays it-is above all a recreation,a spot of sunshine,a leap sidewaysinto the idleness of a psychologist.Perhaps a new war, too? And are new idols soundedoutPThis little essayis a greatdeclarationof war; and regardingthe soundingout of idols,this time they are not iust idols of the age,but eternalidols,which are heretouchedwith a hammeras with a tuning fork: there are altogetherno older, no more convinced,no more puffed-up idols-and none more hollow. That doesnot preventthem from being thosein which peoplehavethe mostfaith; nor doesone 'idol," especiallynot in the mostdistinguished ever say instance. Turin, Septembergo, IBBB, on the day when the first bookr of the Revaluation of AII Valueswascompleteil. Fnrsonrcg NrsuscHs MAXIMS
AND ANROWS 1
Idlenessis the beginningof all psychology.What? Shouldpsychologybe a vice?2 '
2
Even the most courageousamong us only rarely has the courage for that which he really knows. r That is, The Antichrlst. tThere is a Germanproverb: "Idlenessis the beginning of all vices."
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
487
3 To live alone one must be a beast or a god, says Aristotle.Leavingout the third case:one must be both -a philosopher. 4 'All truth is simple." Is that not doubly a lie? 5 I want, once and for all, not to know many things. Wisdomsetslimits to knowledgetoo. 6 fn our own wild nature we ffnd the best recreation from our un-nature,from our spirituality. 7 What? Is man merely a mistakeof Godt? Or God merelya mistakeof mant? 8 Out of life's schoolol uar: What doesnot destrovme, makesme stronger. 9 Help yourself, then everyonewill help you. Principle of neighborJove. 10 Not to perpetrate
cowardice
against one's own acts!
Not to leavethem in the lurch afterward!The bite of conscience is indecent.
468
THE I'ORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Can an ass be tragic? To perish under a burden one can neither bear nor throw ofi? The casoof the philosopher. L2.
If we have our own why of.life, we shall get along with almost any how. Man does nof strive for pleasure; only the Englishman does. r3 Man has created woman---out of what? Out of a rib *ideal." of his god-of his t4 What? You search? You would multiply yourself by ten, by a hundred? You seek follorvers? Seek zerosl 15 Posthumous men-I, for exirmple-are understood worse than timely ones, b:ut lrcard better. lv{ore precisely: we are never understood-hence our authority. r6 *Tluth? Among roornen: Oh, you don't know truthl Is it not an attempt to assassinateall our 7rudeurs7' r7 That is an artist as I love artists,modestin his needs: he really wants only two things, his bread and his art -panem et Circen.r 1panemet circerwes,'bread and circuses"-herechanged by Nletzscheinto "brcad and Circe," art being compaied to the Flomericsorceress.
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
409
rg
Whoever does not lmorv how to lay his will into things, at least lays sune meaning into them: that means,he has the faith that they already obey a will. (Principle of 'Taith.") r9 What? You electedvirtue and the swelledbosomand yet you leer enviouslyat the advantagesof thosewithout qualmsPBut virtue involves rernuncing "advantages." (Inscriptionfor an anti-Semite'sdoor.) 20
The perfect woman peqpetratesliterature as she perpetratesa smallsin: as an experiment,in passing,looking around to see if anybody notices it-and to make surethat somebodydoes. 2L To venture into all sorts of situations in which one may not have any sham virtues, where, like the tightrope walker on his rope, one either stands or falls-.or gets away. 22 "Evil men have no songs." How is it, then, that the Russianshave songs? 23 spirit": for the past eighteen years a contradiction in terms. 'German
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCITD
24 By searchingout origins,one becomesa cratr. The historian looks bachvard; eventuallyhe also belieaet backward. \25 Contentnent proleetq even against colds. Has a womanwho knew herselfbe well dressedevercaught cold? I am assgningthat she was barely dressed.
z6 f mistnrstall systematizers and I avoidthem.lhe will to a systemis a lack of integrity. 27 Womenare consideredprofound.Why? Becauseone never fathoms their depths. Women arent even shallow. 28 If a woman has manly virtues, one feels like running away; and if she has no manly virtues, she herself nrns away. 29 'How much consciencehas had to chew on in the past!And what excellentteethit hadl And today-what is lackingP' A dentist's guestion. 3o One rarely rushes into a single error. Rushing into the ffrst one,one alwaysdoestoo much. So one usually perpetratesanother one-and now one does too little.
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
3r When steppedon, a worm doublesup. That is clever. In that rvay h9 lessensthe probabilityof being stepped on again. In the Ianguageof rnoralityt lrumility, There is a hatred of lii2and simulation,stemming from an easily provokedsenseof honor. There is another such hatred, from cowardice,siuce lies are forbiddenby a divine commandment. Too cowardlyto lie. 33 How little required is for pleasurelThe sound of a bagpipe.Without music, life would be an eror. The GermanimaginesevenGodsingingsongs. 34 On rn peut penseret dcrire gil'assiisr(G. Flaubert). There I have caughtyou, nihilistl The sedentarylife is the very- sin against the Holy Spirit Only thoughts reachedby walking have value. There are casesin *o?i *" are like horses,we psychologists,and becomerestless:we see our own shadowwavering up and down before us. A psychologist must tum his eyesfrom himself to eye anything at all. gG Whether we immoralistsare harming virtue? Just as little as anarchistsharm princes.Onlisince thj htter !'One cannotthink and write, exceptsitting..
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 472 are shot at do they again sit securelyon their thrones. Moral: morality must be shotot,
37 You run ahaad?Are you doing it as a shepherd?Or as an exception?A third casewould be the fugitive. First questionof conscience. 38 Are you genuine?Or merelyan actor?A representaIn the end, perhaps tive? Or that which is represented? questionof you are merely a copy of an actor. Second, conscience. 39 . The disappointed one speaks.I searchedfor great human beings;I alwaysfound only t\e apes of their ideals. 40 Are you one who looks on? Or one who lends a handP Or one who looks away and walks off? fhird guestion of conscience. 4L Do you want to walk along? Or walk ahead?Or walk by yourself? One must know uhat one wants and that one wants. Fourth question of conscience. 42 Those were steps for me, and I have climbed up over them: to that end I had to pass over them. Yet they thought that I wanted to retire on them.
TWILIGHT
OF THE IDOLS
478
What doesit matterif 113*"in right. I am much too dght. And he who laughsbest today will alsolaugh last. 44 The formulaof my happinessra Yes,a No, a straight line, a goal, TIIE
PNOBLEM
OF
SOCRATES
I
Conceming life, the wisest men of all ages have iudgedalike: dt is no good.Alwaysand everywhereone has heard the samesound from their mouths-a sound full of doubt,full of melancholy,full of weariness of life, full of resistance to life. Even Socratessaid,ashe died: 'To live-that meansto be sick a long time: I owe Asclepiusthe Saviora rooster."Even Socrateswastired of it. What does that evidence?What does it evince? Formerly one would have said (---oh, it hasbeen said, and loud enough,and especiallyby our pessimists): "At least somethingof all this must be truel The consensusof the sagesevidencesthe truth." Shall we still talk like that today?May we?'At leastsomethingmust be ,ricftherei ue retort. Thesewisestmen of all agesthey should ffrst be scrutinizedclosely.Were they all perhapsshakyon their legs?late? tottery? decadents? Could it be that wisdom appearson earth as a raven, inspired by a little whifi of canion? 2
This irreverentthoughtthat the greatsagesarc tqpeg ol declineffrst occunedto me preciselyin a casewhere i f, I tf
j i
Laee sr*L-Dat q rya4'o'tfl . But l^ za"clotl 'L V qrr,flr. b =u[ets'Jg THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 174 it is most strongly opposed by both scholarly and unscholarly prejudice: I recogaized Socratesand Plato to be qymptoms of degeneration,tools of the Greek dissolution, pseudo-Greelg anti-Greek (Birth of Traged.y, t87z). The consensusof the sages-I comprehended this ever more clearly-proves least of all that they were right in what they agreed on: it shows rather that they themselves, these wisest men, agreed in some plrysio.logical respect, and hence adopted the same negative
attitudeto lif*lwd to u9opl.it.J".lgg9g$-igdgnoSt I of concerninglife, for it,
it or against can,in the I value, never they be true: @s* lend, I they are worthy of considerationonly as symptoms;in themselves suchjudgmentsare stupidities.One must by all meansstretchout onds ffngersand makethe attempt to graspthis amazingffnesse, tlwt the oalueof lile 99ry no{be'esfimaed. NJt by the livinfiGiTh{i6in inErested pry; even a' bone of iontention, and not iudges;not by the dead, for a different reason.For a philosopherto seea problemin the value of life is thus an objectionto him, a questionmark conceminghis wisdom,an un-wisdom.Indeed?All these great wise men-they were not only decadentsbut not wise at all? But I return to the problem of Socrates. 3 fn origin, Socratesbelongedto the lowestclass:Socrateswasplebs.We know,we can still seefor ourselves, how ugly he was.But ugliness,in itself an objection,is amorlgthe Greeksalmosta refutation.Was Socratesa Greek-atall? Uglinessis often enoughthe expressionof n developmenttlat hasbeencrossed,thwartedby cr-ossing. Or i[ appearsas decliningdevelopment.The anthropologtsts among the criminologists tell us that the
TWILIGHT OF THE TDOLS 476 typical criminal is ugly: rnorlstrumin fronte, nonstntm ln animo. But the criminal is a decadent Was Socrates a typical criminal? At least that would not be contradicted by the famous iudgment of the physiognomist which soundedso o$ensiveto the friends of Socrates. A foreignerwho knew about facesoncepassedthrough Athensand told Socratesto his face that he uns a mutctrurn-that he harbored in himself all the bad vices and appetites.And Socratesmerely answered:Tou know me, sir!' Socrates'decadence i, ,uf,gertednot only by the admitted \rrantonnessand anarchy of his instincts, but also by the hypertrophy of the logical faculty and that sorooamof the rachitic which distinguisheshim. Nor should we forget those auditory hallucinationswhich, 'the as d,aimonionof Socrates,"have been inteqpreted religiously.Everything in him is exaggerated, buffo, a caricature; everything is at the same time concealed, ulterior, subterranean.I seekto comprehenclwhat idiosyncrasybegot that Socraticequationof reasonFvirtue,-and happiness:that mostbizarre of all equations,which, mor@ver, is opposedto all the instincts of the earlier Greela. 5 With Socrates,Greek taste changesin favor of diaIectics.What really happenedthere?Above all, a twble taste is thus vanquished;with dialecticsthe plebs come 'to the top. Befoie Socrates,dialectic -"nn"ir were repudiated in good society: they were consideredbad manners, they were compromising.The young wer€ wamed against theur. Furthermore, all such presenta-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE {IA tions of one'sreasonswere distrusted.Honest things, like honestmen,do not carry their reasonsin their hands like that. It is indecentto show all five ffngers.What must first be provedis worth little. Whereverauthority still formspart of goodbearing,rvhereonedoesnot give reasonsbut commands,the dialecticianis a kind of buffooni one laughsat him, one doesnot take him seriously.Socrateswasthe buffoonwho got hhnselftaken seriously:what really happenedthere? 6 One choosesdialectic only when one has no other means.One knows that one arousesmistrust with it, Nothing is easierto erase that it is not very persuasive. of everymeeting than a dialecticalefiect:the experience provesthis. It can only be at whieh there are speeches self-deferxefor thosewho no longer have other weapons. One must have to enforceone'sright: until one reachesthat point, one makesno use of it. The Jews were dialecticiansfor that reason;Reynard the Fox was ono-and Socratestoo? 7 Is the irony of Socratesan expressionof revolt? Of enDoes he, as one-opPressed, plebeian ressentirnent? joy his own ferocityin the knife-thrustsof his syllogisms? Does he u)enge himself on the noble people whom he As a dialectician,one holds a mercilesstool fascinates? in onet hand; one can becomea tyrant by meansof it; thoseone conquers.The dialectician one compromises his opponentto prove that he is no idiot: he leavesit to makesone furious and helplessat the sametime. The dialecticianrendersthe intellectof his opponentPowerless. Indeed? Is dialectic only a form of teoenge in Socrates?
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
{t7
8 I have given to understand how it was that Socrates could repel: it is therefore all the more necessary to explain his fascination. That he discovered a new kind of agon,r that he became its first fencing master for the noble circles of Athens, is one point. He fascinated by appealing to the agonistic ilnpulse of the Greela-he introduced a variation into the wrestling match between young men and youths. Socrateswas also a gteat erotic. 9 But Socratesguessedeven more. He saw through lljrs noble Athenians; he comprehended that his orvn case, his idiosyncrasy, was no longer exceptional. The same kind of degeneration was quietly developing everywhere: old Athens was coming to an end. And Socrates understood that all the world rceded, him-his means, his cure, his personal artiffce of self,-preservation. Everywhere the instincts were in anarchy; ever;nrhere one was within five paces of excess:moratrurn in animo was the general danger. "The impulses want to play the tyrant; one must invent a counter-tlJranfwho is stronger." When the physiognomist had revealed to Socrates who he was-a cave of bad appetites-the great master of irony let slip another word which is the key to his 'This 'but character. is true,'he said, I mastered them all'" How did Socrates become master over himsefi? His case was, at bottom, merely the extreme case, only the most striking instance of what was then beginning to be a universal distress: no one was any longer master over himself, the instincts turned ogainst each other. He fascinated, being this extreme case] hir awe-inspiring ugliness proclaimed him as such to all who could see: r "Contest."
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 478 he fascinated,of course,evenmoreasan answer,a solution, an apparentcure of,this case. 1()
lltlren one ffnds it necessaryto turn rcason into a bnant, as Socratesdid, the dangercannotbe slight that somethingelsewill play the tyrant.Rationalitywasthen hit uponasthe savior;neitherSocrates nor his *patients" had any choiceabout being rational: it yas de rigeur, it was their last resort.The fanaticismwith which all Greek refection throws itself upon rationality betrays a desperatesituation;there was danger,there was but one choice:either to perishor-to be absurdlyratiorwl. The moralismof the Greekphilosophersfrom Plato on is pathologicallyconditioned;so is their esteemof dialectics. Reason-virture-happiness, that means merely that one must irnitate Socratesand counter the dark appetites with a permanent dalight-the daylight of reason.One must be clever, clear, bright at any price: any concessionto the instincts,to the unconscious,leads dounward. 11
I have given to understandhow it was that Socrates fascinated:he seemedto be a physician,a savior. Is it necessaryto go on to demonstratethe error in his faith in'rationality at any price"?It is a self-deception on the part of philosophersand moralistsif they believe that they are extricating themselvesfrom decadence when they merely wage war againstit. Extrication lies beyontl their strength: what they chooseas a means, as salvation,is itself but another expressionof decadence; they changeits expression,but they do not get rid of decadenceitself. Socrateswas a misunderstanding the uhole improoement-moralitg,includ,ing the
TIVILIGHT
OF THE IDOLS
Christiaq usasa misunderstanding.The most blinding daylighq rationality at any price; life, bright, cold, to the without instinct,in oPPosition cautious,conscious, disanother disease, was a mere this instincts-all too 'health," 'virtue," to ease,and by no meansa return to . To haw to ffght the instincts-that is the to happiness decadence:aslong aslife is ascending,hay E^rfPof ' , piriessequalsinsUnct. Did he himself still conrf,rehendthis, this most bril[ant of all se]f-outwitters?Was this what he said to himselfin the end,in the uisdom of his courageto die? Socratesuanteil to die: not Athens"but he himself chosedre hemlock; he forced Athens to sentencehim. osocratesis no physiciarq"he said softly to himself; tere death aloneis the physician.Socrateshimself has merely been sick a long time.' -nEAsoN' rN PrrrLosoPEY Youaskme which of the;hibsophen'traits arereally idiosyncrasies?For examplg their lack of historical sense,their hatred of the very idea of becoming,their Egypticism.They think that they show their rcspeci for a subiectwhen they de-historicizei\ wb specieaeternl -when they turn it into a mummy. All that philosophers have handledfor thousandsof yearshave been concept-mummies;nothing real escaped their grasp alive. When thesehonorableidolators of conceptsworship something,they kill it and stuff it; they threaten the Iife of everythingthey worship.Death,change,old agg as well as procreation and growth, are to their minds objections-even refutations.Whateverhasbeing
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 480 does not become; whatever becomes does not have
is the
'We have found him," they cry ecstatically;'it is the senses!These scnses,which are so immoral in other g the true wor]d. Moral: waystoo, deceiveus concemin let us free ourselvesfrom the deception of the senses, from becoming,from history, from lies; history is nothfaith in lies.Moral: let us say ing but faith in the senses, faith in the senses,to all the rest of No to all who have mankind; they are all'mob.' Let us be philosophersl Let us be mummieslLet us representmonotono-theism of a gravediggerlAnd above by adoptingthe expression iittr th"-Uoay, this wietched id"e fae of the "it, "riy senses,disffgured by all the fallaci'esof logic, refuted, even imposiible, although it is impudent enough to behave as if it were reall' 2 I except the name of respec! With the highest Heruclitus, Whin the rest of the philosophic folk reiected the testimonyof t}te sensesbecausethey showed multiplicity and change, he rejected their testimony becaulethey showedtlings as if they had permauence and unity. Heraclitustoo did the sensesan injustice. They lie neither in the way the Eleatics-believed,nor as he believed-they do not lie at all. What we make of' their testimony,that alone introduceslies; for examplo the lie of unii, the lie of thinghood, of substance,of tReason"is the causeof our falsiffcation pennanence. -ot Ae testimonyof the senses.Insofar as the senses
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 481 show becoming,passingaway, and change,they do not lie. But Heraclitus will remain eternally right with 'aphis assertionthat being is an empty fiction. The parent"world is the only one: the "trud'world is merely added by a Ue. 3 Ancl what magniffcentinskuments of observationwe possess in our senseslThis nose,for example,of which no philosopher has yet spoken with reverence and gratitude, is actually the most delicate instrument-so far at our disposal: it is able to detect minimal di$erencesof motion which even a spectroscopecannot detect. Today \ile possessscienceprecisely to the extent to which we have decided to accept the testimony of the senses-to the extent to which we shaqpenthem further, arm them, and have learned to think them through. The rest is miscarriageand not-yet-sciencein other words, metaphysics,theology,psychology,epistemology-or formal science,a doctrine of signs,such as logic and that applied logic which is called mathematics. In them reality is not encounteredat all, not even as a problem-no more than the question of the value of such a sign-conventionas logic. 4 the other idiosyncrasyof the philosophersis no less dangerous;it consistsin confusingthe last and the ffrst. They placethat which comesat the end-unfortunatelyl for it ought not to come at alll-namely, the'highest concepts,"which meansthe most general,the emptiest concepts,the last smokeof evaporatingreality, in the beginning,as the beginning.This againis nothing but their way of showingreverence:the higher may not grow out of the lower, may not have grown at all.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 482 Moral: whateveris of the ffrst rank must be causasul,r Origin out of somethingelseis consideredan obiection, a questioningof value.All the highestvaluesare of the ffrst rank; alhthe highestconcepts,that which hasbeing, the unconditional, the good, the true, the perfect-all thesecannothavebecomeand rnustthereforebe cawa srrd.All these,moreover,cannot be unlike eachother or in contradictionto eachother. Thus they arrive at their stupendous concepq'God.-That which is last,thinnest, and emptiest is put ftrst, as the cause,as €n$ reolissimum.2 Why did mankind have to take seriously the brain affiictions of sick web-spinnen?They have paid dearly for itl 5 At long last, let us contrastthe very difierent manner in which we conceivethe problem of error and appearance. (I say'weo for politeness'sake.)Formerly,alteration, change, any becoming at all, were taken as proof of mere appearance,as an indication that there must be somethingwhich led us astray. Today, conversely,preciselyinsofarasthe prejudiceof reasonforces substance, cause, us to positunity, identity,permanence, thinghood,being,we seeourselvessomehowcaughtin error, compelled into error. So certain are we, on the basisof rigorousexamination,that this is wherethe error ftes. It is no difierent in this case than u'ith the movement of the sun: thereour eyeis the constantadvocate of error, here it is our language.In its origin language belongsin the age of the most rudimentaryform of psychology.We enter a realm of crude fetishismwhen we summonbefore consciousness the basic presuppositions rSelf-caused.' r"The mostrealbeing.'
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 483 of the metaphysicsof language,in plain tallc, the presuppositionsof reason.Everywhereit seesa doer and doing; it believesin will as the cause;it believesin the ego, in the ego as being, in the ego as substance,and it projectsthis faith in the ego-substance upon all thingsonly thereby doesit ftrst createthe conceptof "thing.Every'rvhere"being" is projected by thought, pushed undemeath,as the cause;the conceptof being followq and is a derivative of, the concept of ego. In the beginning there is that great calamity of an error that the will is somethingwhich is effective, that will is a capacity. Today we know that it is only a word. Very much later, in a world which was in a thousand wa)rsmore enlightened,philosophers,to their great surprise, becameawareof the sureness,the subjectivecertainty, in our handlingof the categoriesof reason:they concluded that these categoriescould not be deriverl from anything empirieal-for everything empirical plainly contradictedthem. Wbence,then, were they derived? And in fndia, as in Greece,the same mistake was made: "We must oncehave been at home in a higher rvorld (insteadof a very much lower ong which would have beenthe truth); we must have beendivine, fot we have reasonl"fndeed, nothing has yet possessed a more naive power of persuasionthan the error concerning being,is it has bien formulated by the Eleatics,for ef ample.After all, every word we say and every sentence speak in its favor. Even the opponentsof the Eleatics still succumbedto the seduction of their concept of being: Democritus,amongothers,when he invente-dhis atom. '?eason" in language-oh, what an old deceptive femalesheisl I am afraid we are not rid of God because we still have faith in grammar.
4U
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
6 Itwill b€ appreciated if I condense so essential and so new an insight into four theses.In that way I facilitate comprehension; in that way I provoke contradiction. First propositian. The reasons for which "this" world has been characterized as "apparent" are the very reasons which indicate its reality; any other kind of reCity is absolutely indemonstrable. Second.proposition. The criteria which have been bestowed on the'true being" of things are the criteria of 'trre not-being, of twuglfi; the world" has been constructed out of contradiction to the aetual world: indeed an apparent world, insofar as it is rnerely a moral-optical illusion. Thiril proposition. To invent fables about a world -other" than this one has no meaning at alf unless an instinct of slander, detraction, and suspicion against life has gained the upper hand in us: in that case,we avenge ourselves against life with a phantasmagoria of "an'better" other," a life. otrue' Fourth proposition. Any distinetion between a 'apparent' and an world-whether in the Christian manner or in the manner of Kant (in the end, an underhanded Christian)-is only a suggestionof decadence,a symptom of the decline of life. That the artist esteems appearance higher than reality is no objection to this *appearance" in this casemeans reality proposition. For once more, only by way of selection, reinforcement, and correction. The tragic artist is no pessimist: he is precisely the one who says Yes to everything questionable, €ven to the terrible-he is Dionysian,
TWILIGHT
now
rHE
485
OF THF. IDOLS
'TnuE
BEcAME :.#;rttNALLY
The History of an Etrot r. The true world-attainable for the sage,the pious, the virtuous man; he lives in it, he is it. (The oldest form of the idea, relatively sensible, sim' ple, and persuasive.A circumlocution for the sentence, "I, Plato, am the truth.") for now, but promz. The true world-unattainable ised for the sage, the pious, the virtuous man ('for the sinner who repents"). (Progress ol the idea: it becomesmore subtle, irsidious, incomprehensible-,it becomes temale, it becomes Christian.) indemonstrable, g. The true world-unattainable, unpromisable; but the very thought of it-a consolation, an obligation, an imperative. (At bottom, the old sun, but seen through mist and skepticism. The idea'has become elusive, pale, Nordic, Kbnigsbergian.l) At any rate, un' 4. The true world-unattainable? attained. And being unattained, also unknown. Conse' quentln not consoling, redeeming, or obligating: how could something unknown obligate us? (Gray morning. The ffrst yawn of reason. The cock' crow of positivism.) S. The "1ms" \Meilfl-xn idea which is no longer good for anything, not even obligating-an idea which has become useless and superfluous
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 486 fulness;Plato'sembarrassed blush; pandemoniumof all free spirits.) 6. The true world-we have abolished.What world hasremained?The apparentoneperhaps?But nol lVifh tlrc true uorl.d,ue haoe alsoabolishedthe aVparentone, (Noon; momentof the briefest shadow;end of the longestenor; high pint of humanity;INCIPIT ZLRIe THUSTRA.I) MONALITY
a
AS ANTI.NATURE 1
All passionshave a phasewhen they are merelydisastrous,when they drag down their victim with the weight of stupidity-and a later, very much later phase when they wed the spirit,whenthey "spiritualize'themselves.Formerly,in view of the elementof stupidity in passion,war was declaredon passionitself, its destruction was plotted; all the old moral monstersare agreed The mostfamousforon this: il faut tuer les possions.2 mula for this is to be found in the New Testament,in that Sermonon the Mount, where, ineidentally,things are by no meanslookedat from a height.Thereit is said, for example,with particularreferenceto sexuality:"If thy eye ofiend thee, pluck it out." Fortunately,no Christian acts in accordancewith this precept. Destroying the passionsand cravings,merelyas a preventivemeasure againsttheir stupidity and the unpleasantconsequencesof this stupidity-today this itself strikesus as l'Zarathustrabegins.'An echoof the conclusion of ?ha had usedthe ffrst section Gatt Science( r88C): Nietzsche of ihe Prologueof Zarathustra,his next work, as the final aphorismof- Book Four, aud given it the title: lnciptt tiaeoedia. t*"One must kill the passions.-
I
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOI,S 4A merel)'anotheracute form of stupidity. We no longer admire dentistswho "pluck out" teeth so that they will not hurt any more. To be fair, it should be admitted, however, that on the ground out of which Christianity grew, the concept of the'spirinnlization of passion"couldneverhavebeen formed. After all the ffrst church, as is well known; 'intelligent" in favor of the "poor in fought againstthe spiril" How could oneexpectfrom it an intelligentwar againstpassion?The church ftghtspassionwith excision in every sense:its practice, its "cure,o is castratimt. lt neverasks:"How can one spiritualize,beautify,deify a craving?"It has at all times laid the stressof discipline on extiqpation(of sensuality, of pride,of the lust to rule, of avarice,of vengefulness). But an attackon the roots of passionmeansan attack on the roots of life: the practice of the church is hostile to life, The samemeansin the ight againsta craving
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
This hostility, this hatred, by the wan reachesits climgx only when such types lack even the ffrmnessfor this radical cure, for this renunciationof their "devil." One should survey the whole history of the priests and philosophers,including the artists: the most poisonous things againstthe senseshave been said not by the but by the impossibleascetics, impotent nor by ascetics, by thosewho really were in dire need of being ascetics. t tt*' The spiritualization of sensuality is called looe: it representsa great triumph over Christianity.Another triumph'is ow spiritualizationof In$ility.It consistsin a profoundappreciationof the valueof havingenemies: in short, it meansacting and thinking in the opposite way from that which has been the rule. The church always wanted the destructionof its enemies;we, vr'e immoralistsand Antichristians,ffnd our advantagein this, that the church exists.In the political realm too, hostility has now becomemore spiritual-much more sensible,muchmorethoughtful,muchrnoreconsiderate. how it is in the interest Almosteveryparty understands that the oppositionshould of its own self-preservation not loseall strength;the sameis true of pgwer poliScs. A new creation in particular-the new Reich, f.or ex' ample-needs enemiesmorethan friendsrin opposition alone does it feel itself necessary,in opposition alone doesit becomenecessary. Our attitude to the "internal enemy" is no different: here too we have spiritualized hostility; here too we have cometo appreciateits value. The price of fruitfulnessis to be rich in internal opposition;ASg-IglgAing young-onlv-gs-]ong*asthe soul d-ogrnqt str.etchjiself enAlc-sire-geace- Not@T*as become more alien to us than thal desideratumof former times, "peace of
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
489 sdul," the ChrMian desideratum;there is nothing we envy lessthan the moralisticcow and the fat happiness the great of the good conscience.One has--renortnced - +.*----"-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 490 and preached-turns, conversely,against the instincts of life: it is condemnation of theseinstincts,now secret, now gutspokenand impudent.When it says,*God looks at thE\'ti.it-s3ys No_to both_the and the the enemgof F'elt"tl desirei'"oFlife, and pos$-6{as life.T'hesaintin whomlGodddlights.is the idealeunuch. Life has corytoanlnd where the'kingden-of€orl3 begils/5 Once one has comprehended the outrage of such a revolt against life as has become almost sacrosanctin Christian morality, one has, fortunately, also comprehended something else: the futility, apparentness,-absurdity, and mend.aciousnessof such a revolt. A condemnation of life by the living remains in the end a mere symptom of a certain kind of life: the question whether it is justified or unjustiffed is not even raised tho"by. One would require a position outside of life, and yet have to know it as well as one, as many, as all who have lived it, in order to be permitted even to touch tlre problem of the oalue of life: reasonsenough to comprehend that this problem is for us an unalF proachable problem. When we speak of values, we speak with the inspiration, with tJ-reway of looking at things, which is part of life: Iife itself forces us to posit values; life itself values through us when we posit values. From this it follows that even that anti-natural morality which conceivesof God as the counter-concept and condemnation of life is only a value judgment of lif*but of what life? of what kind of life? I have already given the answer: of declining, weakened, weary, condemned life. Morality, as it has so far been understood-as it has in the end been formulated once more 'negation by Schopenhauer,as of the will to life"-is
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 49I the very hstinct of decadence,which makesan imperative of itself. It saysz"Perishl" It is a condemnationprG nouncedby the condemned. 6 Let us ffnally considerhow naive it is altogetherto *Man say: ouglt to be suchand suchl"Realityshowsus an enchantingwealth of types, the abundanceof a lavish play and change of forms-and somewretched loafer of a rnoralistcomments:"Not Man ought to be difierent."He evenknowswhat man shouldbe-like,this wretchedbigot and prig: he paintshimselfon the wall and comments,"Ecce homo!"But evenwhen the moralist addresses himselfonly to the singlehumanbeingand saysto him, 'ifou ought to be suchand such!"he does not ceaseto makehimselfridiculous.The singlehuman being is a piece of fatum from the front and from the rear, one law rnore, one necessitymore for all that is yet to comeand to be. To sayto him, "Changeyourselft' is to demandthat everythingbe changed,even retroactively. And indeed there have been consistentmoralists who wantedman to be difierent,that is, virtuousthey wantedhim remadein their own image,as a prig: to that end, they negatedthe worldt No small madneJsl No modestkind of immodestyl Morality, insofar as it condntnnsfor its own sake,and not out of regard for the concerns,considerations, and contrivancesof life, is a speciffcerror with which one oggh_tIo have no pity-an idiosgnuasy of degererates which has causedimmeasurable harm. We others,we immoralists,have, converselnmade room in our hearts for every kind of understanding, comprehending,and approoing.We do not easily ni gat_e; we makeit a point of honorto be affrmers.More and more,our eyeshaveopenedto that economywlrich
THE PORTABLE METZSCHE 492 needs and knows how to utilize all that the holy witlessnessof the pries! of.the diseasedreasonin the priest, rejects-that economyin the law of life which ffndsan advantageeven in the disgusting speciesof the prigs, the priests, the virtuous. What advantage?But we ourselves,we immoralists,are the answer. TIIE
FOUR
CREAT
ERRONS
I
The enor of confusfngcarne anil effect. Therc is no more dangerouserror than that of mistakingthe effect for the cause:I call it the real corruptionof reason.Yet this error belongsamongthe most ancient and recent habits of mankind: it is even hallowedamongus and goes by the name of 'religion" or -morality." Every single sentencewhich religion and morality formulate contains it; priests and legislatorsof moral codes are the originatorsof this comrptionof reason. I give an example.Eierybody knows the book of the famous Cornaro in which he recommendshis slender diet as a recipe for a long and happy life-a virtuous one too. Few bookshave beenread so much; evennow thousandsof copiesare sold in England every year. I do not doubt that scarcelyany book (exceptthe Bible, as as is meet) has done as much harm, has shortenpd, many lives, as this well-intentioned curdosurn.The reason:the mistakingof the effeetfor the cause.The worthy Italian thoughthis diet wasthe causeof.his long life, whereasthe precondition for a long life, the extraordinaryslownessof his metabolism,the consumption of solitde, wasthe causeof his slenderdiet. He was not freeto eatlittle or much;his frugalitywasnot a mat'free wilf': he becamesickwhenhe ate more.But ter of whoever is no carp not only does well to eat properly,
TWILICHT OF THE IDOLS 493 needsto. A scbolarin our time, udth his rapid consumption of nervousenergy,would simply destroyhimself with Coraaro'sdiet Crcde experto.L
'but
o The most general formula on which every religion and morality is founded is: "Do this and that, refrain from this and that-then you will be happyl Otherwise . . ." Every morality, every religioru tisthis imperative; I call it the greatoriginalsin of reason,the immortalunteasotu.In my mouth, this formula is changedinto its .opposit*ffrst example of my "revaluation of all val'ues": a'well-turned-outhuman being, a 'trappy one," rnusf perform certain actions and shrinks instinctively from other actions;he carriesthe order, which he represents physiologicalln into his relations with other human beingsaud things. In a formula: his virtue is the effec'tof.his happiness.A long Me, many descendantsthis is not the wages of virtue; rather virtue itself is that slowing down of the metabolism which leads, among other tlings, also to a long life, many descendants-in short, to Cornari.sn. The church and morality say: 'A generaHon,a people, are destroyedby licenseand luxury." My ra. cooeredreason says:when a peopleapproaches destruction, when it degeneratesphysiologicalln then license and luxury follou from this (namely, the craving for ever shongerand more frequent stimulation,as every exhaustednatureknowi it). This youngman turns pale early and wilts; his friends say: that is due to this or that disease.I say: that he becamediseased,that he did not resistthe disease,was alreadythe effect of an impoverishedlife or hereditaryexhaustion.The newspaper readersays:this party destroysitself by making r Telieve him who has triedl"
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 454 such a mistake.My higher poliHcssays: a party which makessuch mistakeshas reachedits end; i[ has lost its surenessof instinct. Every mistakein every senseis the efrect of the degenerationof instinct, of the disintegration of the will: one could almostdeffnewhat is bad in this way. All that is good is instinct-and heneeeasy, necessary, free.Laboriousness is an objection;the god is difierent from the hero. (In my language: hi"4ly Iight feet are the first attribute of divinity.) 3 The enor of afalse causality.Peoplehavebelievedat all timesthat theyknewwhat a causeis; but whencedid we take our knowledgmr more preciseln our faith that we had such knowledge?From the realm of the famous 'tnner facts,' of which not a single one has so far proved to be factual. We believed ourselvesto be causal in the act of willing: we thought that here at least we caught causaliErin the act. Nor did one doubt that all the antecedentsof an act, its causes,were to be soughtin consciousness and would be found thereonoe sought-as 'motives": else one rvould not have been free and responsiblefor it. Finally, who would have denied that a thought is caused?that the ego causes the thought? Of thesethree 'inward facts" which seemto guarantee causality,the ffrst and mostpersuasive is that of the will as cause. The conception of a consciousness ('spirit") as a cause,and later also that of the ego as cause (the 'subject"), are only afterbirths: ffrst the causatty of the will was ffrmly acceptedas given, as enpirical. I\{eanwhilewe havethought better of it. Todaywe no Ionger believe a word of all this. The 'inner world" is full of phantomsand will-o'-the-wisps:the will is one of
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 495 them. The will no longer movesanything, hence does not explain anything either-it merely accompanies events;it can alsobe absent.The so-calledmotioe:a* other error. Merely a surfaeephenomenonof consciousness,somethingalongsidethe deed that is more likely to coverup the antecedents of the deedsthan to representthem.And asfor the ego!Thathas becomea fable a-ffgtio1,a play on words: it has altogetherceasedto think, feel, or willl What follows from this?There areno mental causesat all. The whole of the allegedlyempiricalevidencefor that has gone to the devil. That is-what followst And whata ffneabusewe hadpelpetratedwith this'empirical evidenceo; we createdthe world on this basisasa world of causes,a world of will, a world of spirits.The most a_ncient and enduringpsychologywas ai work here and did_notdo anythingelse:all that happenedwas considered a doing, all doing the efiect ol-a will; the world becameto it a multiplicity of doers;a doer (a .sub. je-ct")was slippedunder all that happened.It was out of himselfthat man projectedhis three'fttn., 12s1s'that in which he believed most ffrmln the will, the spirit, the ego.He eventook the conceptof beingfrom the conceptof the ego; he posited'things' as .Ling,in his image,in accordance with his conceptof the ego as a cause.Smallwonderthat later he alviavsfound"in things only that uthich he had put into thei. fhe tl*g itself, to sayit oncemore,the conceptof thing b a mere reflex of the faith in the ego as ea-,rse. And"even your atom,_my dear mechanistsand physicists-how much error,how muehrudimentarypsychologyis still residual *thing-in-itself,the in your_atoml Not to mentionthe lwnendum pudcndarnof the metaphysici"anst The error of the spirit ascausemistakenfor reaiity!And madethe very measureof realityt And called Godl
498
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
4 The eror of imaginnry causes.To begin with dreams: ex postfacto, a causeis slipped under a particular sensation (for example,onefollowinga far-ofi cannonshot) -often a whole little novel in which tlle dreamertums up as the protagonist.The sensationenduresmeanwhile in a kind of resonance:it waits, as it were, until the causalinstinct permits it to step into the foregoundnow no longeras a chanceoccrurence,but as'meaning.' The cannon shot appearsin a causalmode, in an aIF parent reversalof time. What is really later, the motivation, is experiencedffrst-often with a hundred details which pass like hghtning-and the shot foll.ous. What has happened?The representationswhich were proiluced by a certain statehave beenmisunderstoodas its causes. In fact, we do the samething when awake.Most of our generalfeelings-every kind of inhibition, pressure, tension, and explosionin the play and counterplay of onr organs,and particularly th" stateof the neranssympothicuffixcite our causalinstinct: we want to have a reasonfor feeling this way or that-for feeling bad or for feeling good. We are never satisffedmerely to state &e fact that we feel this way or that: we admit this fact only-become consciousof it only-when we have furnishedsomekind of motivation. Memory, which swings into action in such cases,unknown to us, brings up earlier statesof the samekind, togetherwith the causal intelpretations associatedwith thern-not their real caulcs. The faitlr, to be sure, that such representationg such accompanyingconsciousprocesses,are the carxteq is also brought forth by memory. Thus originates a habitud acceptanceof a particular causal interpreta-
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOI,S 4g/, tion, whiclr, as e matter of fact, inhibits any investigation into the real cnrs€tv€n precludesit 5 The psgchobglcal erplawtion of this. To derive something unknown from somethingfamiliar relieves, comforts,and satisffes,besides$ving a feeling of power. With the unknowq one is confrontedwith danger,discomforg and care; the ffnt instinct is to abolish these painful states.First principle: any explanationis better than none.Sinceat bottom it is merelya matter of wishing to be rid of oppressiverepresentations,one is not too particular about the meansof getting rid of them: the ffrst representationthat e4plainsthe unknown as familiar feels so good that one 'tonsiders it true." The proof of pleasure("of sbength') as a criterion of truth. the causalinstinct is thus conditional upon, and ercited bn the feeling of fear. The "why?" shall, if at all p,ossible,not $ve the causefor its own sakeso much ag for a partiatl$ Hnd of causea causethat is comfortiog, liberating,and relieving.That it is somethingalready familiar, e4perienced,and inscribed in the memory, which is positedas a cause,'thatis the ffrst consequence of this need. That which is new and strange and has not been experiencedbefore, is excluded as a cause. thus one searchesnot only for somekind of explanation to serveas a cause,but for a particularly selectedand preferred kind of explanatiorr-that which has most quickly and most frequently abolished the feeling of the strange,nenr,and hitherto unexperienced:the mogf habtanl explanations.Conseguence:one kind of positing of causespredominatesmore and more, is concentrated into a systerL and ffnally emergesas dominant, that is, as simply precluding other causesand explana-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 498 'businessr'the banker immediatelythinks of The tions. 'sir1" Christian of and the girl of her love. 6 The whole realm of morality and. religion belnngs uder this corwept of funginary cawes. The "explanageneral feelings. They are protion" of d.i,sagreeable duced by beingsthat are hostile to us (evil spirits: the most famouscas*the misunderstandingof the hysterical as witches). They are producedby acts which can'sin,o "sinfulness," not be approved (the feeling of of is rlipp.d under a physiological discomfort; one always ffnds reasonsfor being dissatisffedwith oneself). They are producedas punishments,aspaymentfor something we shouldnot have done,for what we shouldnot have bem (impudently generaliznd.by Schopenhauerinto a principle in which morality appearsas what it really 'Every is-as the very poisonerand slandererof life: great pain, whether physical or spiritual, declareswhat we deserve;for it could not come to us if we did not II, 666). deserveit." World,asWill and.Representotinn they are produced as eftects of ill-consideredactions that turn out badly. (Here'the affects,the senses,are posited as causes,as 'guilty"; and physiologicalcalamities are inteqpretedwith the help of other calamitiesas 'deserved.") The "explanatiof of agreeablegeneralfeelings.They are produced by trust in God. They are produced by of good deeds (the so-called'good the consciousness sen5sisnss"-tr physiolo$cal state rilhich at times looks so much like good digestionthat it is hard to tell them apart). They are producedby the successfultermination of someente{prise(a naive fallacy: the successful termination of someenterprisedoesnot by any means give a hypochondriac or a Pascal agreeable general
499 TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS feelings).They areproducedbv faith, charity,and hope -the Christianvirtues. In truth, all thesesupposedexplanationsare resultant statesand, as it were, translationsof pleasurableor unpleasurablefeelings into a false dialect: one is in a stale of hope becausethe basic physiologicalfeeling is onceagain strong and rich;@ of r€st; the-fe€@ves-Hense the psyclnl' to IUorality ind religion belong altogether ogV ofbnot in every singlecase,causeand effect are or tmth ii confusedwith the efiects of.be' "infur"a; lieoingsomethingto be true; or a state of consciousness is confusedwith its causes.' The enor of free u:ill. Today we no longer have any pity for the concept of "free will": we know only too well what it really is-the foulest of all theologians' artiffces, aimed at rnaking mankind "responsible" in their sense,{:hat is, dependentupon thetn. Here I simply supply..thepsychologyof all'making responsible." Wherevei responsibilitiesare sought,it is usually the instinct of wanting to iudge and puirishwhich is at work Becominghas beertdeprived of its innocencewhen any is tracedback to will, to purposes,. being iliw: the doctrinp-.qf=ltt" of the will hasI the-doctrine to acts of. responsibility: punishment, puqposeof punish*T,: for the p"tpose beeninverited?ssentiallyf"rTe "Uy to impute guilt. The entireI that is, becauseone wanted old psychology,the psychologyof will, was conditioned by the fact that its originators,the priests at the head wantedto createfor themselves of ancientcoinmunitie$o the r-rghtto punish*
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 5OO willed, and the origin of every act had to be considered as lying within the consciousness(and thus the most fundamental counterfeit in psychologicis was made the principle of psychology itself). Today, as we have entered into the reversemovement and we immoralists are trying with all our strength to take the concept of guilt and the concept of punishment out of the world again, and to cleanse psychology, history, nature, and social institutions and sanctions of them, there is in our eyes no more radical opposition than that of the theologians, who continue with the concept of a'moral world-order" to infect the innocence 'guilt." of becoming by means of "punishment" and Christianity is a metaphysics of. the hangman. 8 What alone can be our doctrine? That no one gioes man his qualities-neither God, nor society, noi his parents and ancestors,nor he himself. (The nonsenseof 'tntelligible freedom" by the last idea was taught as Kant-perhaps by Plato already.) No one is responsible for man's being there at all, for his being such-and-such, or for his being in these circumstances or in this environment. The fatality of his essenceis not to be disentangled from the fatality of all that has been and will be. Man is not the efiect of some special pu{pose, of a will, and end; nor is he the object of an attempt to 'ideal of humanity'' or an'ideal of happiness" attain an or an'ideal of morality." It is absurd to wish to devolve one's essenceon some end or other. We have invented the concept of "end": in realiw there is no end.
orre one jsir""rr"ry, @, belongsto the wholg one is in the whole; there is nothing which could judge, measure,compare,or sentenceour being,for that would meanjudging, measur-
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 501 ing, comparing,or sentencingthe whole. But there is ttoiiling besid6s the whole. that nobody is held responsiEleany longer, that the mode of being may_not does 6e traced back to a causaprima, that the world 'tpirit"not form a unity either as a sensoriumor as that aloneis the great liberation;with this aloneis the innocenceof becomingrestored.The conceptof'God" was until now the greatest objection to existence.We deny God, we deny the responsibilityin God: only therebydo we redeemthe world. THE
'rMpnovERs"
oF !.fANrrNn
1
My demandupon the philosopheris known, that he take his standbeyondgood and evil and leavethe illusion of moral judgmentbeneathhimself.This demand follows from an insight which I was the ffrst to formulate: that there arc altogether no rnoral fccts. Moral judgmentsagree with religious ones in believing in realitieswhich are no realities.Morality is merely an interpretationof certain phenomena-more precisely, a misinterpretation. Moral judgments,Iike religiousones, belongto a stageof ignoranceat which the very concept of the real and the distinctionbetweenwhat is real and imaginary,are still lacking; thus "truth," at this stage, all sortsof thingswhich we todaycall "imagdesignates inings."Moral judgmentsarethereforeneverto be taken literally: so understood,they alwayscontain mere absurdity. Semeiotically,however,they remain invaluable: they reveal,at least for thosewho know, the most valuwhich did able realities of culturesand inwardnesses ounderstand"themselves. Morality not know enoughto one must is meresign language,meresymptomatology: know what it is all about to be able to profit from iL
502
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
, A ftrst example,quite provisional.At all times they have wanted to 'improve" menr this above all was called morality. Under the samc word, however,the most divergenttendenciesare concealed.Both the farning of the beast,man, and the brcedingof a particular kind of man have been called 'improvement" Such zoologicalterms are requiredto expressthe realitiesrealities,to be sure,of which the typical'improver," the priest,neitherknowsanytbing,nor wantsto know anything. To call the taming of an animal its 'improvement' soundsalmostlike a ioke to our ears.Whoeverknows what goeson in menageriesdoubtsthat the beastsare -improved" there. They are weakened,they are made lessharmful, and through the depressiveellect of fear, throughpain, throughwounds,and throughhungerthey becomesickly beasts.It is no differentwith the tamed man whom the priesthas'improved." In the early Middle Ages, when the church was indeed, above all, a menagerie,the most beautiful specimensof the "blond beast" were hunted down everywhere;and the noble Teutons,for example,were improved." But how did suchan'improved" Teutonwho had beenseducedinto a monasterylook afterward?Like a caricatureof man, Iike a miscarriage:he had becomea "sinner,"he was stuck in a cage,imprisonedamongall sortsof tenible concepts.And there he lay, sick, miserable,malevolent against himself: full of hatred against the springsof life, full of suspicionagainstall that was still strong and happy.In short,a "Christian.n . Physiologically speaking:in the strugglewith beasts, to make them sick maq be the only meansfor making them weak.This the ciurch unders-tood: it raircd r,ai
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 503 "improved" have weakened hinr--but it claimed to it hftn.
3 Let us considerthe other caseof socalled morality, the case of. breeding a particular race and kind. The mostmagniffcentexampleof this is fumishedby Indian morality,sanctionedas religionin the form of "the law of Manu." Here the task set is to breed no lessthan four races at once: one priestln one warlike, one for trade and agriculture,and ffnally a race of servants,the Sudras.Obviously,we are hereno longeramonganimal tamers:a kind of man that is a hundredtimes milder and more reasonable is the conditionfor evenconceiving sucha plan of breeding.Oneheavesa sigh of relief at leavingthe Christianatmosphere of diseaseand dungeonsfor this healthier, higher, and,uid.er world. How wretched is the New Testamentcompared to Manu, how foul it smells! Yet this organizationtoo found it necessaryto be terrible-this time not in the struggle with beasts,but with their counter-concept, the unbred man, the mishmash man, the chandala.And again it had no other meansfor heepinghim from being dangerous, for making him weak, than to make him sicft-it was the 6ght 'great with the number." Perhapsthere is nothing that contradictsour feeling more than tlreseprotective measures of Indian morality. The third edict, for example (Avadana-Sastra I), %n impure vegetables,'ordains that the only nourishmentpermitted to the chandala shallbe garllc and onions,seeingthat the holy scripture prohibits giving them grain or fruit with grains, or water or ffre. The sameedict ordersthat the water they need may not be taken from rivers or wells, nor from ponds, but only from the approachesto swampsand
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 504 from holes made by the footstepsof animals.They are also prohibited from washing their laundry and ftom uaslfing themsehses, since the water they are conceded as an act of grace may be used only to quench thirst. Fina\ a prohibitionthat Sudrawomenmay not assist chandala women in childbirth, and a prohibition that the latter may not assisteach other is this condition. The successof such sanitary police measureswas inevitable: murderousepidemics,ghastlyvenerealdiseases,and thereupon again "the law of the knife," ordaining circumcisionfor male children and the removal of the internal labia for female children. Manu himself says: "The chandalasare the fruit of adultery, incest,and crime (these,the necessary consequences of tlle conceptof breeding).For clothing they shall have only rags from corpses;for dishes, broken pots; for adornment old iron; for divine services,only evil spirits. They shall wander without rest from place to place. They are prohibited from writing from left to right and from usingthe right hand in writing: the useof the right hand and of fromJeft-to-right is reservedfor the virtuous, for the people of.racei 4 Ihese regulations are instructive enough: here we encounterfor once Aryan humanity, quite pure, quite primordial-we learn that the concept of "pure blood' is the oppositeof a harmlessconcept.On the otherhand, it becomesclear in which people the hatred, the chandala hatred, against this 'humaneness"has etemalized itself, where it has becomereligion, where it has becomegenius.Seenin this perspective,the Gospelsrepresenta documentof prime importance;even more, the Book of Enoch. Christianity, sprung from Jewish roots and comprehersibleonly as a growth on this soil" rep-
TIVILIGHT OF THE TDOLS
resentsthe counter-movementto any morality of breeding, of race, of privilege: it is the arti-Aryan religion par excellence. Christianity-the revaluation of all Aryan values,tle victory of chandalavalues,the gospel preachedto the poor and base,the generalrevolt of all the downhodden, the wretched, the failures, the less favored, against "racejz the undying chandala hatred as the rcligion of looe. 5 The morality of.breed,ingand the morality of tatning are, in the means they use, entirely worthy of each other: we may proclaim it as the supremeprinciple that, to make morakty,onemust have the unconditional will to its opposite. This is the great, the uncanny problem which I have been pursuing the longest: the psychologyof the "improvers" of rnankind.A small,and at bottom modest fact-that of the so-called,pia fmusr --+ffered me the ffrst approach to this problem: tlle pia fraus, the heirloom of all philosophersand priests who "improved" mankind. Neither Manu nor Plato nor Confucius nor the Jewish and Christian teachershave ever doubted their right to lie. They have not doubted that they had very different rights too. Expressedin a formula, one might sayt all the means by which one has so far attempted to make mankind moral were throughand throughimmoral. .WHAT
THE
GENMANS
LACK
1
Among Germans today it is not enough to have spirit: one must arrogate it, one must have the arroganee to have spirit 1'Holy lie.-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 506 PerhapsI know the Germans,perhapsI may eventell them sometruths.The new Germanyrepresents a large quantumof fitness,both inheritedandacquiredby training, so that for a time it may expandits accumulated store of strength,even squanderit. It is rtot a high culture that has thus becomethe master,and evenlessa delicate taste, a noble "beauty" of the instincts;but moreohile virtues than any other countqyin Europecan show.Much cheerfulness and self-respecfmuch-assurancein socialrelationsand in the reciprocalityof duties, much industriousness, much perseveranc*and an irr herited moderationwhich needsthe spur rather than the brake.I add that here one still obeyswithout feeling that obediencehumiliates.And nobodydespises his opponent. One will notice that I wish to be just to the Germans: I do not want to break faith with rnyself here. I must therefore also state my objectionsto them. One pays h*urly for coming to power: pnwer makesstupid. The Germans-once they were calledthe peopleof thinken: do they think at all today?The Germansare now bored with the spirit, the Germansnow mistrust the spirit; , * lolitics swallowsup all seriousconcernfor really spirI f\*ituat matters. Deuischlard.,Deutschlnndtiter itlei*l that was the end of Germanphilosophy. t ltte"t ' "Are there any Germanphilosophers? Are there German poets?fue there good Germanbooks?"they ask me abroad.I blush;but with the couragewhich I maintain even in desperatesituationsI reply: 'Well, Bismarck."Would it be permissiblefor me to confesswhat booksare read today?Accursedinstinct of mediocrityl What the German spint mtghtbe-who has not had his melancholyideas about thatl But this people has
TWILICHT OF THE IDOLS 5O7 nearly millennium: for a stupid, deliberatd made itself nowherehavethe two great Europeannarcotics,alcohol and Christianity, been abused more dissolutely. Recently even a third has been added
T'HE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 508 what an atmosphereprevailsamongtheir scholars,what desolatespirituality---and how contentedand lukewarm it has becomelIt would be a profound misunderstanding if one wanted to adduce German scienceagainst rne-it would also be proof that one has not read a word I have written. For seventeenyears I have never tired of calling attention to the deuplrltualztng influenceof our current science-indusey.The hard helotism to which t}te tremendousrange of the sciencesc.ondemnsevery scholal today is a main reasonwhy those with a fuller, richer, prolounder disposition no longer find a congenial education and congenial educators. There is nothing of which our culture suffersmore than of the superabundanceof pretentiousjobbers and fragmentsof humanity;our universitiesare,againsttheir will" the real hothousesfor this kind of withering of the instincts of the spirit. And the whole of Europe already has someidea of this-power politics deceivesnobody. Gerrrany is consideredmore and more as Europe'sflathnd. I am still looking for a German with whom I might be able to be seriousin my own.way-and how lmuch more for one with whom I might be cheerfull Tuilight of the ldols: who today would comprehend from what seriousnessa philosopher seeksrecreation here?Our cheerfulnessis what is mostincomprehensible about us. 4 . Even a rapid estimate shows that it is not only obviousthat Germanculture is declining but that there is suftcient reasonfor that. In the end, no one can spend. more than he has: that is tme of the individual, it is true of a people. If one spendsoneselffor power, for power politics, for economics,world trade, parliamentarianism, and military interests-if one spendsin thfs
TWILIGHT OT THE IDOLS
direction the quantum of understanding,seriousness, will, and self-overcomingwhich one represents,then it will be lacking for the other direction. Culture and the state
t "Kultur-Staof is merely other, one thrives at
the expenseof the other. All agesof culture are agesof political decline: wtra@ even anti-politbol. Coeth€s W heart opened at the phenomenon of Napoleon-it closed at the'"\Mars of Liberation." At the same moment when Gerrnany comes up as a great power, France' gairx a new importance as a cultural poueL Even today rnuch new seriousness,much new passion of the spirit have migrated to Paris; the question of pessimism, for example, the question of Wagner, and almost all psychological and artistic questions are there weighed incomparably more delicately and thoroughly thau in Germany-the Germans are altogether incapable of thir kinil of seriousness.In the history of European culture 'RebW the rise of the means one thing above all: a 1 displacement of the center of gravity. It is already I known everywhere: in what matters most-and that I Germans are no longer' always remains cultur+the worthy of consideration. One asks: Can you point to even a single spirit who counts from a European point of view, as your Goethe, your Hegel, your Heinrich Heing your Schopenhauer counted? That there is no longer a single German philosopher-about that there is no end of astonishment. 5 The entire system of higher education in Germany has lost what matters most: the end as well as the means to the end. That education, t-hat Bild;ung, is itself
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 5TO en end-and not uthe RiicH-arnd tlrat educatorcarc neededto that end, and nof secondary-school teachers and university scholars-that has been forgotten. Educators are neededwho have themselvesbeen educated, superior,noble spirits, proved at every moment,proved by words and silence, representingculture which has grown ripe and sweet-not the leamed louts whom secondaryschoolsand universitiestoday ofier our youth as "higher wet nurses.- Educators are laeking, not countingthe most exceptionalof exceptions,the very ffrst conditionof education:hencethe-declineof Geiman culture. Onpof this rarestof exceptionsis my venerable friend, JacobBurckhardtin Basel:it is primarily to him that Baselowesits pre-eminence in humaneness. What the 'lhigher schools" in Germany really achieve is a brutal tmining, designedto prepire hugl numbers of young men, with as little loss of time as possiblg to become usable, abusable,in govemment service. 'Hrgher education" and huge numbers-that is a conhadiction to start with. All higher education belongsonly to the exception: one must be privileged to have a right to so high a privilege. All great, all beautiful things can never be common propertyz puL chrum est paucorumhomirwm, What conditionsthe declineof GermanculturePThat'higher education"is no longer a privilege-the democratism of Bililung, which has become dsornrnen"-too common. Let it not be forgotten that rnilitary privileges really compel an all-too-greatatteudancein the higher schools,and thus their downfall, In present-dayGermanyno one is any longer free to give his childrena nobleeducation:our'higher schoolsare all set up for the most ambiguousmediocrity,with their teachers,curricula, and teachingaims.And everyrvherean indecenthasteprevails,as if somethingwould
51I TWILTGHTOF THE IDOLS not yet were man of twenty-three young if the be lost 'ffnished,"or if he did not yet know the answerto the *main question"ruhich calling?A higher kind of human be'ing,if I may say so,io"t t Jt [ke "-callings,' he knowshimselfto be called.He has preciselySecause 'ffnishIime, he takes time, he does not even think of ing": at thirty one is, in the senseof high culture, a beginner, a child. Our overcrowdedsecondaryschools, our overworked, stupeffed secondary-schoolteachers' are a scandal:for oneto defendsuchconditions,as the professorsat Heidelbergdid recently,there may perthere hapsbe c{nrs€B-reasons 6 I put forward at once-lest I break with my styla which is ffirmatioe and deals with contradictionand criticism only as a means,only involuntarily-the three tasksfor which educatorsare required. One must learn to see,one must learn to think, onemust learn to speak and write: the goal in all three is a noble culture. LearG ing to .sea-accustomingthe eye to calmness,to Pa- 1!\ tience, to letting things come up to it; postponing ; judgment,learningto go around and graspeachindi- *1f vidual casefrom all sides.That is the frsf preliminary schoolingfor spirituality: not to react at once to a j) "a stimrrlus,but to gai cluding instincts.Learning to-EEFTffi-derstand it,-i5alriioiiilhaTinphilosopf,ically speaking, is called a strongwill: the essentialfeature is preciselynof to 'will.' -to be able to suspenddecision.All un-spirituafity, all vulgar commonness,dependon the inability to resist a stimulus: oae rnusf react, one follows every impulse. In many cases,such a compulsionis already pathology, decline, a symptomof exhaustiorr-almosteverything that unphilosophicalcrudity designateswith the word
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 5I2 'vice" is merely this physiologicalinability nat to reacilA practical application of having learned to see: as a learner, one will have becomealtogetherslow, mistrustful recalcitranl One will let strange, new things of every kind come up to oneself, inspecting them with hostile calm and withdrawing one'shand. To have all doors standing open, to lie servilely on one's stomach before every little fact, always to be prepared for the leap of putting oneselfinto the place of, or of plunging 'others into, and other things-in short, the famous 'objectivity' modern is had^taste,is igtnble par excelU l',,r1t 'f alri*ererrll lence
?
7 Leaming to thlrlfr,:in our schoolsone no longer has any idea of this. Bven in the universities,even among the real scholarsof philosophy,logic as a theory, as a practice, as a uaft, is beginning to die out. One need only read Germanbooks:there is no longerthe remotest recollectionthat thinking requiresa technique,a teaching curriculum, a will to mastely-that thinking wants to be leamed lfte dancing, as a kind of dancing. Who among Cermansstill hrows from experiencethe delicate shudderwhich light feet in spiritual matters send into every muscle?The stiff clumsinessof the spiritual gesture, the bungling hand at grasping-that is German to such a degreethat abroad one mistakesit for the German character as such" The Gemran has no fingersfor nuances. That the Germans have been able to stand their philosophersat all, especiallythat most deformedconcept-cripple of all time, the grea Kant provides not a bad notion of German grace. For one cannot subtract dancing in every form from a noble education-to be able to dance with one's feet, with concepts,witb
TIYILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 513 words: need I still add that one must be able to do it with the pen too-that one must learn to tniteP But at this point I should become completely enigmatic for Germanreaders. STINMISIIES
OF AN
UNTIMELY
MAN
I
My impossibleotles.Senpca:or the toreadorof virtue. Rousseau: or the return to nature in impuris naturalibus. Schifler: or the Moral-Trumpeterof Sackingen.Dante: or the hyena who writes poetry in tombs.Kant; or cant as an intelligiblecharacter.Vbtor Httgo: or the pharos at t*re sea of nonsense.Liszt: or the school of smoothness-with \ilomen. George Sand,:or lac'teaubertasin translation, the milk cow with "a beautiful style." Mbhelet: or the enthusiasmwhich takes off its coat. Cadyl.e:or pessimismas a poorly digesteddinner. Joha Stuort Mill: or insulting clarity. I*s frdres dp Gorwourt: or the two Ajaxes in baftle with Homer-music by O$enbach.Zoln: or "the delight in stinking." 2
Renan. Theology: or the comrption of reason by 'original sin" (Christianity).WitnessRenanwho,whenever he risks a Yes or No of a more general nature, scores a miss with painful regularity. He wants, for example,to weld together Ia scietwe and la rcblpsse: but la sciencebelongswith democracy;what could be plainer? With no little ambition, he wishesto represent an aristocracyof the spirit: ybt at the sametime he is on his kneesbeforeits very counter-doctrine, the 6oat gile des humble*and, not only on his knees.To what avail is all free-spiritedness,modemity, mockery, and w1y-necksuppleness,if in one'sguts one is still a Chris-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 514 tian, a Catholic-in fact, a priestl Renanis most inven' tive, just like a Jesuit and father confessor,when it comesto seduction;his spirituality doesnot evenlack the broadfat popishsmile-like all priests,he becomes dangerousonly when he loves.Nobodycan equal him when it comesto adoringin a mannerendangeringlife itself. This spirit ol Renan's,a spirit which is enervated, is onemorecalamityfor poor,s-ick,will-tick France. 3 SahtteBeuoe.Nothing of virility, full of petty wrath against all virile spirits. Wanders around, cowardly, bored,eaveidropping-afemaleat bottom,with "irionr, a female'slust for revengeand a female'ssensuality.-As a psychologist,a geniui of. mddisonoa,linexhaustibly rich in meins to that end; no one knowsbetter how to mix praisewith poison.Plebeianin the lowestinstincts and related to the ressentimentof Rousseau:consequently, a romantic*for underneathall romantismelie instinct for re{he grunting and greed of Rousseau's vengi. A rJvolutionary,but still pretty well harnessed by fear. Without freedomwhen confrontedwith anytliing strong (public opinion,the Academy,-the court, great even Port Royal). Embitteredagainst_everything in itself. believes against whatever and fhings, men in Poet and half-femaleenoughto sensethe great as a power; alwayswrithing like the famousworm because ie alwaysfiels steppedupon. As a critic, without any standard,steadiness,and backbone,with the cosmopolitan libertine'stongue for a medley -of things, but ivithout the courageevento confesshis li.bertirwge'As a historian,without philosophy,without the powerof the philosophicaley*hetce decliningtfre t-as\of jud-ging in all iigniffcant matterg hiding behind the mask of t "Slander."
5T5 TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 'objectivity.'It is difierentwith his attitudeto allthings in which a ffne,well-worntasteis the highesttribunal: there he really hasthe courageto standby himselfand delight in himself-there he is a master.In somerespects,a preliminary version of Baudelaire. 4 De lmitatione Christt is one of those books which I cannothold in my hand without a physiologicalreaction: it exudes a perfume of the Eternal-Feminine which is strictly for Frenchmen-or Wagnerians.This saint has a way of talking about love which arouses even Parisian women to curiosity. I am told that that cleverestof Jesuits,A. Comte,who wanted to lead his Frenchmento Rome via the detour of science,found his inspirationin tlris book. I believeit: "the religion of the heart.' 5 G. Eliot. They are rid of the Christian God and now believe all the more ffrmly that they must cling to we Christianmorality. That is an English consistency; do not wish to hold it againstlittle moralisticfemalesI la Eliot. In Englandone must rehabilitateoneselfafter every little emancipationfrom theology by showing in a veritably awe-inspiringmannerwhat a moral fanatic one is. That is the penancethey pay there. We othershold otherwise.When one gives up the Christianfaith, one pulls the right to Christianmorality out from under one'sfeet. This moralityis by no means self-evident: this point has to be exhibited again and again, despitethe English fatheads. Christianityis a system,a uhole view of things thought out together. By breakingone main conceptout of it, the faith in remains God, one breaksthe whole: nothing necessary
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 5T6 in one's hands. Christianity presupposesthat man does not know, cannot know, what is good for him, what evil: he believes in God, who alone knows it. Christian morality is a command; its origin is transcendent; it is beyond all criticism, all right to criticism; it has truth
only if God is the truth-it
standsand falls with faith
in God. amrm-ttte 'intuitively"
English actually believe that they lnow what is good and evil, when they therefore suppose that they no longer require Christianity as the guarantee of moralitn we merely witness the ef ects of the dominion of the Christian value iudgment and an expression of the strength and depth of this dominion: such that the origin of English morality has been forgotten, such that the very conditional character of its right to existenceis no longer felt. For the English, morality is not yet a problem. 6 George Sanil. I read the frrst Lettres tun rngageur: like everything that is descendedfrom Rousseau,false, fabricated, bellows, exaggerated. I cannot stand this motley wallpaper style any more than the mob aspiration for gellerous feelings. The worst feature, to be sure, is the female's coquetry with male attributes, with the manners of naughty boys. How cold she must have been throughout, this insufierable artistt She wound herself like a clock-and wrote. Cold, like Hugo, like Balzac, like all the romantics as soon as they tools up poetic invention. And how self-satisffed she may have lain there all the while, this fertile writing-cow who had in her something German in the bad sense, like Rousseau himself, her master, and who in any case was possible only during the decline of French tastel But Renan reveresher.
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
5U
7 Moral for psgchologists.Not to go in for backstairs psychology.Neier to observein order to observelThat and some!iu"r a fiise perspective,leadsto squinting Ihing forced ind exaggerated.Experienceas the rpish to eiperiencedoesnot succeed.One rnttstnot eye oneself while having an experience;else the eye becomes 'an evil eye.- dborn piychologistguardsinstinctively againstseling in ordef to see;the sameis true of the b6rn painter.He neverworks "from nature'; he leaves it to fris instinct,to his'cameraobscura,to sift through *case,- 'nature,' that which 'eileand expressthe { riencedl,'Heis consciousonly of what is general,of the conclusion,the result: he doesnot know arbitrary ab' stractionsfrom an individual case. What happenswhen one proceedsdifierently? For example,if, in the rnannerof the Parisiannovelists,one goes in for baclatairs psychologyand deals in gos_sip' wholesaleand retail? Then one lies in wait for reality, as it were,and everyeveningone brings homea handful of curiosities.But note what ffnally comesof all this: a heap of splotches,a mosaicat best, but in any case somethingadded together,somethingrestless,a messof screamingcolors. The worst in this respect is accomplished by the Goncourts; they do not put togetherwithout really hurting the eye, three sentences eye. the psychologist's Nature, estimatedartistically, is no model.It exaggerates, it distorts, it leaves gaps. Nature is chance. To study'from natureoseemsto me to be a bad sign:-it fatalism;this lying in the weakness, betriys submission, dust beforepetit faits is unworthyof a uhol'eartist. To seeuhat fs-that is the mark of anotherkind of spirif the anti-artistic,the factual. One must know rphoone is.
51E
THE PORTABL,TENIETZSCHE
I Toward a psgchologyof the artist. If there is to be art, if thereis to be any aestheticdoing and seeing,one frenzy. Frenzy physiologicalconditionis indispensable: must first have enhancedthe excitabilityof the whole machine;elsethere is no art. All kinds of frenzy,however diversely conditioned,have the strength to accomplishthis: aboveall, the fuenzyof sexualexcitement, this most ancientand original form of frenzy,Also the frenzy that follows all great cravings,all strong affects; the frenzy of feasts,contests,feats of daring, victory, all extreme movement; the frenzy of cruelty; the f,renzyin destruction;the frenzy under certainmeteorological influences,as for examplethe frenzy of spring; or under the influenceof narcotics;and finally the f.renzyof will, the frenzyof an overchargedand swollen will. What is essentialin such frenzy is the feeling of increasedstrengthand fullness.Out of this feelingone lendsto things, oneforcesthem to accePtfrom us, one violatesthem-this processis called i'dealizittg.Let us get rid of a prejudicehere: idealizingdoesnot consist, as is commonlyheld, in subtractingor discountingthe What is decisiveis rather a petty and inconsequential. lremendousdrive to bring out the main featuresso that tlre othersdisappearin the process. 9 In this state one enriches everything out of one's own fullness:whateverone sees,whateverone wills, is seenswelled,taut, strong,overloadedrvith strength. A man in this statetransformsthings until they mirror his power-until they are reflectionsof his perfection. Thii haoing fo transforminto perfectionis-art. Even
TTI'ILIGHTOF THE IDOLS 5T9 everythingthat he is not yet, becomesfor him an occasion of joy in hirnself;in art man enjoyshimselfas perfection. It would be permissibleto imaginean oppositestate, a specificanti-artistryby instinct-a mode of being which would impoverishall things, making them thin And, asa matterof fact, historyis rich and consumptive. in suchanti-artists,in suchpeoplewho are starvedby life and must of necessitygrab things, eat them out, and makethem moremeager.This is, for example,the caseof the genuineChristian--of Pascal,for example: a Christianwho would at the sametime be an artist simply doesnot occur.One shouldnot be childishand object by namingRaphaelor somehomeopathicChristian of the nineteenth century: Raphael said Yes, Raphaelilid Yes;consequently, Raphaelwas no Christian. lo What is the meaning of the conceptualopposites which I haveintroducedinto aesthetics,ATtollinian. and Dbnysian, both conceivedas kinds of frenzy? The Apollinian frenzy excitesthe eye aboveall, so that it gainsthe power of vision.The painter,the sculptor,the epic poet are visionariespar excellence.In the Dionysianstate,on the other hand,the rvholeafrectivesytem is excited and enhanced:so that it dischargesall its means of expressionat once and drives foith simultaneouslythe porverof representation, imitation, transfiguration,transformation, and everykind of mirnicking and acting.The essentialfeaturehere remainsthe ease of metamorphosis, the inability not to react (similar to certbinhystericaltypeswho also,upon any suggestion, enter into ony role). It is impossiblefor the Dionysian
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 520 type not to understand any suggestion; he does not overlook any sign of an affect; he possessesthe instinct of understanding and guessing in the highest degree, just as he commands the art of communication in the highest degree. He enters into any skin, into any afiect: he constantly transforms himself. Music, as we understand it todan is also a total excitement and a total discharge of the affects, but even so only the remnant of a much fuller world of expressionof the affects, a mere residue of the Dionysian histrionicism. To make music possible as a separate art, a number of senses,especially the muscle sense, have been immobilized (at least relatively, for to a certain degree all rhythm still appeals to our muscles); so that man no longer bodily imitates and represents everything he feels. Nevertheless, that is really the normal Dionysian state, at least the original state. Musie is the specialization of this state attained slowly at the expense of those faculties which are most closely related to it. ll
The actor, the mime, the dancer, the musician, and the lyric poet are basicallyrelatedin their instinctsand, at bottom, one-but graduallythey have becomespecialized and separatedfrom each other, even to the point of mutual opposition. The lyric poet remained united with the rnusicianfor the longesttime; the actor, with the dancer. The architecf representsneither a Dionysian nor an Apollinian state: here it is the great act of will, the will that movesmountains,the frenzy of the great will which aspiresto art. The most powerful human beings have always inspired architects; the architect has al-
TWILIGHTOF THE IDOLS 52L ways been under the spell of power. His buildingsare supposedto render pride visible, and the victory over gravit/, the witl to power. Architeeture is a kind of eloquenceof power in forms-now persuading,even fattering, now only commanding.The highestfeeling ffndsexpression in a grand,style, of powerand sureness The power which no longer needsany proof, which spurnspleasing,which doesnot answerlightly, which feels no witnessnear, which lives obliviousof all oppositionto it, which reposeswithin itself, fatalisticalln a law amonglaws-that speaksof itself as a grand style. t2
I have been reading the life of Thomas Carlyle, this unconsciousand involuntary f.aree,this heroic-moralistic interpretation of dyspeptic states. Carlyle: a man of strong words and attitudes, a rhetor from need, constantly lured by the craving for a strong faith and the feeling of his incapacity for it (in this respect, a typical romantic!). The craving for a strong faith is no proof of a strong faith, but quite the contrary. If one has such a faith, then one can afford the beautiful luxury of skepticism: one is sure enough, ffrm enough, has ties enough for that. Carlyle drugs something in himself with the fortissimo of his veneration of men of strong faith and with his rage against tlle less simple-minded: he requires noise. A constant passionate dishonesty against himself-that is his proprium; in this respect he is and remains interesting. Of course, in England he is admired precisely for his honesty. Well, that is English; and in view of the fact that the English are the people of consummatecant, it is even as it should be, and not only corhprehensible. At bottom, Carlyle is an English atheist who makes it a point of honor not to be one.
522
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
r3 Emerson. Much more enlightened, more roving, more manifold, subtler than Carlyle; above all, happier. One who instinctively nourishes himself only on ambrosia, Ieaving behind what is indigestible in things. Compared with Carlyle, a man of taste. Carlyle, who loved him 'He very much, nevertheless said of him: does not $ve us enough to chew on"-which may be true, but is no refection on Emerson. Emerson has that gracious and clever cheerfulnesswhich discouragesall seriousness; he simply does not know how old he is already and how young he is still going to be; he could say of himself, quoting Lope de Yega: *Yo me sucedo a ml ,nismo." I His spirit always ftnds reasons for being satisffed and even grateful; and at times he touches on the cheerful transcendency of the worthy gentleman who returned from an amorous rendezvous, tamquam 'Ut rc bene gesta. desint oiresi he said gratefully, "tamen est laudnndn ooluptas.- 2 r4 'struggle Afii-Darwin As for the famous f.or existenre," so far it seemsto me to be assertedrather than proved. It occurs, but as an exception; the total ap pearance of life is not the extremity, not starvation, but rather riches, profusion, even absurd squanderingand where there is struggle, it is a struggle f.or power. One should not mistake Malthus for nature. Assuming, however, that there is such a struggle for existence-and, indeed, it occurs-its result is unl'f am mv own heir.t'As if tr'e trad accomplishedhis mission.-Ihough the power is lacking, the lust'is nevertheless praiseworth].''
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
fortunately the opposite of what Darwin's school desires,and of what one might perhaps desire with them-namely, in favor of the strong, the privileged, The speciesdo not grow in perthe fortunateexceptions. fection: the weak prevail .over the strong again and again, for they are the great majority-and they are y'so more intelligent. Darwin forgot the spirit (that is
nglish!); the ueak hane more rpirit. One must need spirit to acquirespirit; one losesit when one no Ionger needs it. Whoever has strength dispenseswith the 'the spirit ('Let it gol" they think in Germanytoday; Raichmust still remainto us."l). It will be notedthat 'spirit"
I mean care, patience, cunning, simulation, and everything that is mimicry (the self-control, f,reat by
tter includesa great deal of so-calledvirtue).
15 Casuistryof Psychologists.This man knows human nature; why doeshe really study people?He wants to over them--
524
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
r6 a\e paphological taa of the Germansseemsvery questionaLleto ire, in view of quite a number of cases lihich modestypreventsme from enumerating'In one case I shall nof lack a great occasionto substantiate having my thesis: I bear the Cermans g*-dg9 f9r 'backdoor " made such a mistake about KcrTl and his philosophn- as I call it-for that was not the type of like to intellecltualintegrity. The other thing I do not'Coethe 'and': the Germanssay hear is a notorioui 'schiller and am afraid they say and Schillei'-I Goethe.' Dorft they lcnou this Schiller yet? And there 'ands"; with my own earsI have heard, are evenworse 'schopenhauerard if only amonguniversity profeisors, Harbnann." t7 bein-gs,if we.assumethat human The most spiritual 'most courageous'alio experienceby -far they are the the most painful tragediei: but iust for that,reasonthey honor Me becauseit pits its greatestoppositionagainst them. r8 . On the'lrtellec'tual conscietwe.'Nothing seemsrarer I to *" today than genuinehypocrisy. I greatly lusPgct of- ottt culture is insalubriousfor this I that the toit "it belongsin the ages of strong faith Hypocrisy lphnt. '*h"n, | ttorigtt cottiruirwd to display anotherfaith, "u"ir not abaidon one'sown faith. Today one does one did abandonit; or, evenmore cosrmonly,one addsa seccind faittr-and in either caseone remains honest' Without number of convictionsis a doubt, a very much greater'possible" meanspermispossibletoday-than formerly:
TWLIGHT OF THE IDOLS 525 sible, which meansharmless,This begetstolerancetoward oneself. Tolerancetoward oneselfpermits severalconvictions, and they get along with each other: they are careful, tke all the rest of the world, not to compromisethemselves.How doesone compromiseoneselftoday?If one is consistent.If one proceedsin a straight line. If one is not ambiguousenoughto permit five conflicting interpretations.If one is genuine. I fear greatly that modem man is simply too comfortable for somevices, so that they die out by default. All evil that is a functionof a strong'will*.and perhaps there is no evil without strength of willJegenerates into virtue in our tepid air. The few hypocriteswhom I have met imitated hypocrisy: Iike almost every tenth person today, they \vere actorc. Beuntful atd ugly. Nothing is more conditional---or, let us say,narrower-than our feeling for beauty. Whoever would think of it apart from man's joy in 'teautiful irl would immediately lose any foothold. itself- is a mere phrase, not even a concept In the beautiful, man posits himself as the measureof perfection; in special caseshe worships himself in it. A speciescannot do otherwisebut thus affrm itself alone. Its lauest instinct that of setf-presewationand selfexpansion,still radiates in such sublimities. Man beIieves tlle world itself to be overloadedwith beautyand he forgets himself as the causeof this. He alone has presentedthe world with beauty-alasl only with a very human" all-too-humanbeauty. At bottom, rnan mirrorshimselfin things;he considerseverything tilul that refeets his own image: the judgment Uful'is the unity of his species.For a little
THE FORTABLENIETZSCHE 526 may rilhisper this question into the skeptie's ear: Is the world really beautiffedby the fact that man thinks it beautiful? He has hutrwnizedig that is all. But nothing, absolutelynothing, guaranteesthat man should be the model of beauty. Who knows what he looks like in the-eyesof a higher judge of beauty?Daring perhaps? Perhapseven amusing?Perhapsa little arbitiaiy? 'O Dionysus, divine one, why do you pull me by my earsil' Ariadne once asked her philosophic lover during one of thosefamousdialogueson Naios. 'I ffnd a kind of humor in your earg Ariadne: why are they not even longer?" 20
Nothing is beautiful, exceptman alone: all aesthetics rests upon this naivet6, which is its /trsf tmth. Let us immediatelyadd the second: the
with lFthe realmoI?6EE[F {"g9."@g,qt.-"nd is circumscribed. Physiologicallneverything iudgment ugly weakensand saddensman. It remindshim of decan danger, impotence;it actually deprives him of strength. One can measurethe effect of the ugly with a dynamometer.Wherever man is depressedat all, he sensesthe proximrty of something"trgly.' His feeling of power, his will to power, his courage,his pride-all fall with the ugly and rise with the beautiful. In both caseswe draw an inference: the premisesfor it are piled up in the greatestabundancein instinct. The ugly is understoodas a sign and symptomof degeneration: whatever remindsus in the least of degenerationtauses in us the iudgment of 'ugly,' Every suggestionof exbaustion,of heaviness,of age, of weariness;every kind of lack of freedom, such as cramps,such as paralysis; and aboveall, the smell, the color, the form of dissolution, of decompositiorHven in the ultimate attenua-
TWILIGHTOF THE IDOLS 527 reaction, the same symbol-all evoke the a tion into valuejudgment,"ugly." Alntred is aroused-but whom doesman hate then?There is no doubt: the declineol his type. Here he hatesout of the deepestinstinct of tlte species;in this hatred there is a shudder,caution, depth, -is farsightedness-itis the deepestlrgtred there is. It becausiof this that art is deep. lA so^, fr{ ,e"p, 5 kv\tr \ce"hf*I.., zt Schopenhauer, the lastGermanworthy Schopmhauer. a Europeaneventlike of consideration(who represents Goethe,like Hegel,like HeinrichHeine,and not merely a local event, a "national" one), is for a psychologist a ftrst-rate case: namely, as a maliciouslyingenious attempt to adducein favor of a nihilistic total depreciation of life precisely the counter-instances,the great self-afirmations of the "will to life," lifet forms of exuberance.He has interpreted arf, heroism, genius, beauty, great sympathy,knowledge,the will to tmth, and hagedy, in turn, as consequences of hegation" or of the "wills" need to negatFthe greatestpsycho' logical counterfeit in all history, not counting Christiantg. On closerinspection,he is at this point merely the heir of the Christianinterpretation:only he knew how to approvethat which Christianityhad repudiated, tlle great cultural facts of humanity-albeit in a Christian, that is, nihilistic, rnanner (namely, as ways of 'redemptionr" as anticipations of iedemption," as 'redemption'). stimuli of the needfor 22
I take a singlecase.Schopenhauer speaksof heauty with a melancholyfervor. Why? Becausehe seesin it a bridge on which onewill go farther, or develp a thirst to go farther. Beautyis for him a momentaryredemp-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 528 'will"-a tion from the lure to eternal redemption. Particularly, he praises beauty as the redeemer from 'the focal point of the will," from sexuality-in beauty he sees the negation of the drive toward procreation. Queer saintl Somebody seemsto be contradicting you; I fear it is nature. To what end is there any such thing as beauty in tone, color, fragrance, or rhythmic movement in nature? What is it that beauty evokes? Fortunately, a philosopher contradicts him too. No lesser authority than that of the divine Plato (so Schopenhauer himself calls him) maintains a difterent proposition: t'hat all beauty incites procreaHon, that iust this is the propriurn of its effect, from the most sensual up to the most spiritual. 23 Plato goes further. He says with an innocence possible only for a Greek, not a "Christian," that there would be no Platonic philosophy at all if there were not such beautiful youths in Athens: it is only their sight that transposes the philosophe/s soul into an erotic tance, leaving it no peace until it lowers the seed of all exalted things into such beautiful soil. Another queer saint! One does not trust onet ears, even if one should trust Plato. At least one guessesthat they philosophized differently in Athens, especially in public. Nothing is less Greek than the conceptual web-spinning of a hermit-amor intellectualis deiL aftet the fashion of Spinoza. Philosophy after the fashion of Plato might rather be deffned as an erotic contest, as a further development and tuming inward of the ancient agonistic gymnastics and of its prewpposdtdoas.What ultimately grew out of this philosophic eroticism of Plato? A new art form of the Greek agon: dialectics. Finally, I recallr "fntellectual love of God."
T1VILIGHTOF THE IDOLS 529 and in honor of Plato-that the againstSchopenhauer whole higher culture and litemture of classicalFrance in too grew on the soil of sexualinterest.Everynvhere the sexual it one may look for the amatory,the senses, contest,"the womarf'---one will never look in vain. 24 Iiart Ttour\art. T\e ffght against purpose in art is alwaln a ftght against the moralizing tendency in a*, against its subordination to morality. Xart pour fart means,"The devil take moralityl" But even this hostility still betraysthe overpoweringforce of the prejudice. When the purpose of moral preachingand of improving man has been excluded from art, it still does not follow by any meansthat art is altogetherpurposeless, aimless, senseless-in short, Xarf pun fart, a vr'onn 'Rather no pu{poseat all than a chewingits own tail. rnoral puqpossl"-1hn1is the talk of mere passion.A psychologist,on the otherhand, asks:rvhat doesall art do? does it not praise?glorify? choosePprefer? With all this it strengthensor weakenscertain valuations.Is this merely a "moreovet''Pan accident? somethingin which the artist's instinct had no share?Or is it not the very presupposition of the artist'sability? Does.his basic instinct aim at art, or rather at the senseof art, at life? at a desirability of life? Art is the great stimulus to life: how could one understandit as puqposeless, as aimless,as Tart pour fart? One guestionremains:art alsomakesapparentmuch that is ugly, hard, and questionablein life; doesit not thereby spoil life for us? And indeed there have been philosophen who attributed this senseto it: 'liberation from the wilf' was what Schopenhauertaught as the over-all end of art; and with admiration he found the great utility of tragedy in its "evoking resignation."But
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 530 peris the pessimist's this, as I havealreadysuggested, spective and "evil eye." We must appeal to the artists themselves.What does the tragic artist communicate of himself?Is it not preciselythe stateuithutt fear in that he is showthe faceof the fear{uland questionable ing? This state itself is a great desideratum;whoever knows it, honorsit with the greatesthonors.He communicatesit-must communicateit, providedhe is an Courageand freedom artist, a geniusof communication. of feeling before a powerful enemy,before a sublime calamity, before a problem that arousesdread-this what triumphantstateis what the tragic artist chooses, soul in our is warlike what he gloriffes.Beforetragedy, to suffering, is used whoever Saturnalia; celebratesits whoeverseeksout sufiering,the heroicman praiseshis own being through tragedy-to him alonethe tragedian presentsthis drink of sweetestcruelty. 25 To put up with people,to keepopenhousewith one's heart-thai is liberal, but that is merely liberal. One recognizesthose hearts which are capable of noble hospitality by the many draped windows and closed shuiters,they keep their best roomsempty. {hy? Because they exPect guests with whom one does not "put up."
z6 We no longer esteemourselvessufficientlywhen we communicateourselves.Our true experiencesare not at all gamrlous.They could not communicatethemselvesdvenif they tried. That is becausethey lack the right wor{. is a grain of alieadF+ot-levond. In all 65-ttt"tirptl t atrguage,it seems,was invented only for
TWILIGHT OF TITE IDOLS 581 With lanwhat is average,medium, communicable. guagethe speakerimmediatelyvulgarizeshimself. Out of a morality for deaf-mutesand other philosophen. 27 -This picture is enchantinglybeautiful!" r The literary female: unsatisffed,excited,her heart and entrails yoid, ever listening, full of painful curiosity, to the imperative, which whispers from the depths of her *aut organism, liberl ut libf 2-the literary female: enough educated to understandthe voiceof natureeven when it speaksLatin, and yet vain enoughand goose enough to speak secretlywith herself in French, "1a me oerrai, ie me lirai, ie m'extasieraiet ie dirai: Possible, que faie eu tant desltritT z ,.8 Ibe'impersonaF get a word in. *Nothing is easier for us than to be wise, patient, and superior. We drip with the oil of forgivenessand sympathy,we are absurdly just, we pardoneverything.For that very reason we ought to be a little more strict rvith ourselves;for that very reasonwe oughtto breeda Iittle afiect in ourselvesfrom time to time, a little vice of an affect. It may be hard on us; and amongourselveswe may even laugh at the sight we thus ofter.But rvhat can be done about itP No other way of self-overcoming is left to us any more: this is our asceticism, oul penance."Developing personaltraits: the virtue of the "impersonal." r
hom The MagtcFluto,
Quotation t'Either chil&en or booki." t'I shall see myself, I shall read myself, I shall go into ecstasies,and I shall say: Is it possibl6 that I shoulld have had so much esrritfl"
. ) I t 6.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
532
29 From a doctoral examination. "What is the task of all higher education?" To turn men into machines. "What are the means?" Man must learn to be bored. "How is that accomplished?" By means of the concept of duty. "Who servesas the model?" The philologist: he teaches grinding. "Who is the perfect man?" The civil servant. 'Which philosophy ofiers the highest formula for the civil servant?" Kant's: the civil servant as a thing-initself raised up to be judge over the civil servant as phenomenon 3o The right to stupidit7. The weary laborer who breathes slowll . looks genial, and lets things go as they may-this typical ftgure, encountered today, in the age of labor (and of the "Reiclt"l), in all classesof society, claims art, no less, as his own sphere, including boo}s and, above all, magazines-and even more the beauties of nature, Italy. The man of the evening, with his -savage drives gone to sleep" (as Faust says), needs a summer resort, the seashore, glaciers, BayreutJrs. In such ages art has a right to pure foolishness-as a kind of vacation for spirit, wit, and feeling. Wagner under. stood that. Pure foolishnessrestores.l
1l"
L*t rq@tsr
Anotherproblemof diet. The meansby which Julius Caesardefendedhimself againstsicklinessand headaches: tremendousmarches,the most frugal way of life, uninterruptedsojournin the open air, continuous exertion-these are, in general,the universalrules of preservationand protection againstthe extremevulnerl WagnerhirnselfcallsParsifal'the pure fool."
5S3 T1VILIGHT OF THE IDOLS ability of that subtle machine, working under the highest pressure, which we call genius. 32 Tlrc immoralist speaks. Nothing ofiends the philosopher's taste more than man, insofar as man desires. If he seesman in action, even if he seesthis most courageous,most cunning, most enduring animal lost in labyrinthian distress-how admirable man appears to himl He still likes him. But the philosopher despises the desiring man, also the "desirable" man-and altogether all desirabilities, all ideals of man. If a philosopher could be a nihilist, he would be one because he ffnds nothing behind all the ideals of man. Or not even nothing-but only what is abject, absurd, sick, cowardln and weaqy, all kinds of dregs out of the emptied cup of his li[e. Man being so venerable in his reality, how is it that he deserves no respect insofar as he desires? Must he atone for being so capable in reality? Must he balance his activity, the strain on head and will in all his activity, by stretching his limbs in the realm of the imaginary and the absurd? The history of his desirabilities has so far been the partie honteuse of man: one should beware of reading in it too long. What iustiffes man is his reality-it will
eternallyjustify him.
much
, foully And it is only the ideal man who pher's taste.
is the worth
n*'"#[
33 The natural wlue of egoism. Self-interestis worth as much as'the personwho has it: it can be worth a great deal, and it can be unworthy and contemptible.
534
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Every individual may be scrutinizedto seewhether he representsthe ascendingor the descendingline of life. Having made that decision,one has a canon for the worth of his self-interest. If he represents the ascending line, then his worth is indeed extraordinery-and for the'sakeof life as a whole, which taltesa itep farther through himr the care for his preservationand for the of the best conditions for him may even be single one, the individual,' as hitherto
,pleand the philosophers alike, is is nothing by himself,no atom, no "link in the chain," nothing merely inherited from former times; he the lzhole singleline of humanity to himself.If represents the descending T&Etq an error after all:
its causes), then he has small worth, and the minimum of deceney requires that he take away as little as possible from those wlohave turned out well. He is merd
their parasite.
El,hr^
Chfi,stianand anarchisttf"n"" the anarchist,as the mouthpieceof the decliningstrataof society,demands with a ffne indignationwhat is 'right," 'justice," and *equal rights," he is merely under the pressureof his own uncultured state, which cannot comprehendthe -real reasonfor his suffering-wbat it is that he is poor lin: lile. A causalinstinct isserts itself in him: it must fault that he is in a bad way. [be somebody's Also, the "ffne indignation"itself sootheshim; it is a pleasurefor all wretched devils to scold: it gives a slight but intoxicatingsenseof power. Even plaintivenessand complainingcan give life a charmfor the sake of which one enduresit: there is a ffne doseof revenge
5S5 in everycomplaint;onechargesone'sown bad situation, even onet own badand under cirtain circumstances ness,to those who are difterent, as if that were an 'If f am canaille,you iniustice,a forbidden privilege. ought to be too"--on such logic are revolutionsmade. Complainingis neverany good: it stemsfmm weakness. Whether one chargesone's misfortune to others or to oneself-the socialistdoes the formeu the Christian, for example, tl're latter-really makes no difierence.The commonand, let us add, the unworthn thing, fault that one is.[ is that it is supposedto be somebody's sufiering; in short, that the sullerer prescribestlp'l honey of revengefor himselfagainsthis sulfering.The objectsof this need for revenge,as a need for pleasure, are mere occasions:everywherethe sufferer ffnds occasionsfor satisfying his little revenge. If he is a Christiar+to repeat it once more--he ffnds them in himself. The Christian and the anarchist are both decadents.When the Christian condemns,slanders,an{ besmirches'theworld," his instinct is the sameas tha{ which promptsthe socialistworkerto condemn,slander{ 'last and besmirchnciety. The iudgment"is the sweet\ comfort of reveng*the revoluUon,which the socialist worker also awaits, but concrived as a litde farther off. The "beyond"-p4y, if not as TWILIGHT
OF THE IDOIS
besmirching tftrs 35 Crltique of the morality of dccadence.An 'altruistic" morality-a morality in which self-interestwilts away-remains a bad sign under all circumstances.This is true of individuals;it is particularlytrue of nations. The bestis lackingwhen self-interestbeginsto be lacking. Instinctively to choosewhat is harmful fot orneself, to feel attracted by 'disinterested" motives,that is vir-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 536 oNot to seek one's own formula of decadence. tually the advantage"-that is merely the moral ffg leaf for quite 't a different, namely, a physiological, state of affairs: no longer know how to find my own advantage." Disgregation of the instinctsl Man is ffnished when he be'7 am no comes altruistic. Instead of saying naively, longer worth anything," the moraf he in the mouth of the decadent says, "Nothing is worth anything, life is not worth anything." Such a judgment always remains very dangerous,it is contagious: throughout the morbid soil of society it soon proliferates into a tropical vegetation of concepts-now as a religion (Christianity), now as a philosophy (Schopenhauerism). Sometimes the poisonous vegetation which has grown out of such decomposition poisons life itself for millennia with its fumes.
36 Thesickmanis a parasiteof Moralityfor phgsicians.
society. In a certain state it is indecent to live longer. To go on vegetating in cowardly dependence on physicians and machinations, after the meaning of life, the right to life, has been lost, that ought to prompt a profound contempt in society. The physicians, in turn, would have to be the mediators of this contempt-not prescriptions, but every day a new dose of nauseawith their patients. To create a new responsibility, that of the physician, for all casesin which the highest interest of life, of ascending life, demands the most inconsiderate pushing down and aside of degenerating life-for example, for the right of procreation, for the right to be born, for the right to live. To die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Death freely chosen, death at the right time, brignUy and cheerfully accomplished amid chil&en and
5S7 TWILIGHT OF THE tDOtS witnesses:then a real farewell is still possible,as the one who is taking leave is still there; also a real estimate of what one has achieved and what one has
illlli3',f
,"#l
| tianity has made of the hour of death. One should neve!'" -r forgel that Christianity has exploited the weakness o{$"* | thJaying for a rape of the conscience;and the ma_nn-er{-t'r,ttl s of death"itself, for]value iudqments about man and the-, Past' Here it is important to defy all the cowa,rdices of preiudice and to establish, above all, the real, that is, -tha physiological, appieciation of so-called rwtutal 'unnatural," a kind of death-"whicli is in the end also suicide. One never perishes through anybody but oneself. But usually it is death under the most contemptible conditions, an'unfree death, death rwt at the right time, a coward's death. From love of hfe, one should desire a difierent death: free, conscious, without acri'
dent, without ambush. Finally, some advice for our dear pessimistsand hands to prevent our not in our our hands decadents.It is not other other decadents. some mistake-for lrin Duurs this m$raKo-lur can .ggrect but we we can c^Qrrect ulN birth; blrth: but it is a mistakd(When bne does away with one""r", self, one does the most estimable thing possible: one almost earns the right to live. Society-what am I saying?-life itsef derives more advantage from this than 'life" from any of renunciation, anemia, and other virtues: one has liberated the others from one's sight; one has liberated life from an objection. Pessimism, put, oert, is proved only by the self-refutation of our dear pessimists: one must advance a step further in its Iogic 'will and representation"" and not only negate lite with must ffrst of all negate as Schopenhauer did
B-+ .T tf X fitre ff'"tzoheppa.l,t f s.^,s,,1. tc a \"j,.ct r{*f b'' h hsrc Jvu.*is-.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 538 Incidentally, however contagious pessimismis, it still does not inerease the sicklinessof an bge, of a generation as a whole: it is an exDressionof this sickliness. One falls vicUm to it as one f;ils victim to cholera: one has to be morbid enough in onet whole predisposition. Pessimismitself does not create a single decadent more; I recall the statistics which show that the years in which cholera rages do not difier from other y""ts io the total number of deaths.
37 Whaher ue haoebecomemorernoral.Againstmy
conceptionof 'beyond good and svfl"-ss was to be expected-the whole ferocity of moral hebetation,mistaken for morality itself in Germany,as is well larown, has goneinto action: I could tell ffne storiesabout thaL 'undeniable Above all I was asked to consider the superiority" of our age in moral judgment, the real ?rcgresswe have made here: compared.with us, a CesareBorgia is by no meansto be representedafter rry manner as a "higher mar1" a kind of overman.A 'underSwiss editor of. the Bund,went so far that he stood' the meaningof my work-not without exlxessing hir respectfor my'courage and daring-to be a 'llhank demand foi the abolition of all decent feelings. youl In reply, I take the liberty of raising the question whether we'have really becomemore moral. That all the world believesthis to be the casemerely constitutes an objection. We modern men, very tender, very easily hurt, and ofiering as well as receiving considerationa hundred' fold, r-ally have the conceit that this tender humanity which we represent,this attained unanimity in sympathetie regard"in readinessto help, in mutual trust, reP resentspositive progressand that in this respectwe are
530 TWTLIGHTOF THE IDOLS But that is how far above the men of the Renaissance. syery aqe thinks, how it must think What is oertain ir conthat'we-may not place ourselvesin Renaissance would nerves our ditions, not iven bf an act of thought: not endurethat reality, not to sPeakof our muscles'But such incapacity doesnot prove progr-ess,only another, later conJtitution, one which is weaker, frailer, no're easily hurt, and which necessarilygeneratesa morality rich'in cpnsideration.Were we to think away our then frailty and lateness,our physiologicalsenescence, 'humanizition" would immediatelylose of moraliry our its value too (in itself, no morality has any value)-it would even arousedisdain. On the other hand, let us not doubt that we modems, with our thickly paddeil humanity, which at all costswants to avoid bumping into a stbne,would have provided CesareBorgia'scor temporarieswith a comedy at which they could havo lauihed themselvesto death.Indeed,we areunwitringly furiny beyond all measurewith our modem'virtuesi The decreasein instinctswhich are hostileand arouse 'progress" amountstomistrust-and that is all our the rcpresentsbut one of the consequences_attending generaldecreasen dtality: it reqlires a hundred times more trouble and caution to make so conditional antl late an existenceprevail. Hence each helps the other; henceeveryoneis to a cprtain extent sick, and everyong 'virtue.is a nurse for the sick. And that is called Among men who still knew life differently-, fuller, moro been squandering,more overflowing-it would have 'cowardice" perhaps,owr€tcb' catled by anothername: edness;"'old ladies'morality." Our softening of manners-that is my proposition; of that is, if you will, my innovation-is a consequence decline; tire hardnessand terriblenessof moral$ cpnversely,can be a oo$eguenceof an exctss of life. For
THE PORTABLE NTETZSCHE 540 in that case much may also be dared, much challenged, and much squandered. V/hat was once the spice of life would be poison for us. To be indifrerent-that too is a form of strengthfor that we are likewise too old, too late. Our morality of sympathy, against w'hich I was the ffrst to issue a waming-that which one might call timpressioni,sme morale-is just another expression of that physiological overexcitability which is characteristie of everything decadenl That movement which tried to introduce itself scientifically with Schopenhauert morality of pity+ very unfortunate attempt!-is the real movement of decadencein morality; as suclr, it is profoundly related to Christian morality. Strong ages, noble cul'neighbor-love," and the lack of tures, consider plty, self and self-assurancesomething contemptible. Ages must be measured by their positive strength-and then that lavishly squandering and fatal age of the Renaissance appea$ as the last great age; and we moderns, with our anxious self-solicitude and neighbor-love, with our virtues of work, modesty, legality, and scientismas a acrumulating, economig machinelike-appear weak age. Our virtues are conditional on, are provoked bn ,our weaknesses. "Equality," as a certain factual increase in similarity, which merely ffnds expression in the theory of "equal rights," is an essential feature of decline. The cleavage between man and man, stahrs and status, the plurality of types, the will to be oneself, to stand out-what I call the pathos of distatrce, that is characteristic of every strong age. The strength to withstand tension, the width of the tensions between extremes,becomes ever smaller today; ffnally, the extremes themselves become blurred to the point of similarity. All our political theories and constitutions-and the
,4L TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 'German Reiclf is by no means an exception-are consequences,necessaryconsequences'of decline; the efiect of decadencehas assumedmastery uncon3cious Ir{y obiecevenover the idealsof someof the sciences. and in England of sociology whole tion against the that it knowsfrom experienceonly the France-remains forms of social decay, and with perfect innocenceaccepts its own instinctsof decayas the no-rmof sociological value-iudgments.The decline of life, the decreasein the power to organize,that is, to separate, tear open clefis, subordinite and super-ordinate-all this his been formulatedas the ideal in contemporary but Mr. Herbert sociology.Our socialistsare decadents, Spenceiis a decadenttoo: he considersthe triumph of altnrism desirable. g8 My conceptionoffrced.om.The valueof a thing sometimeJ does not lie in that which one attains by it but in what one pays for it-what it costsus. I shall give an example.Liberal institutions ceaseto be liberal as soonas they are attained:later on, there are no worse and no moie thorough injurers of freedom than liberal institutions.Their effectsare known well enough:they underminethe will to Power;they level mountainand valley, and call that morality; they make men sma[ cowardly, and hedonistic
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 542 For what is freedom?That one has the will to assume responsibility for oneself.That one maintains the distance which separatesus. That one becomesmore indifferent to difficulties, hardships, privation, even to life itself. That oneis preparedto sacriffcehumanbeings for one'scause,not Cxcludingoneself. that the that the nanlFjnstincts nanbp+nstincts which delil in war and t victory dortrinateover other iisfhcts, for example,over ile6-sure." The human being who has become how much more the spirii who has become free-spits on the contemptible type of well-being dreamedof by shopkeepers,Christians,cows, females, Englishmen,and other democrats.The free man is a uarriar. How is freedommeasuredin individuals and peoples? According to the resistancewhich must be overcome, according to the exertion required, to remain on top. The highest type of free men should be sought where lhe highestresistanceis constantlyovercome:ftve steps from tyranny, close to the threshold of the danger of servitude. This is true psychologicallyif by 'tyrantsa are meant inexorablernd fearful instincts that provoke the maximumof authorityand disciplineagainstthemselves;most beautiful type: Julius Caesar.This is true politically too; one need only go through history. The peopleswho had somevalue,attairwil somevalue,never attainedit underliberal institutions:it wasgreatdanger that made something of them that merits respect. Danger alone acquaintsus with our own resources,our virhres, our armor and weapons,our qpirif, and forces us to be strong. First principle: one must need to be strong--otherwiseone will never becomestrong. Thoselarge hothousesfor the strong-for the strongest kind of humanbeing that has so far beenknownthe aristocraticcommonwealthsof the type of Romeor
548 TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS Venice, understood freedom exactly in the sense in which I understandit: as somethingone has or does rnt have, something one u)ants, something one con' q|rcrc. 39 Critique of moilarnity. Our institutions are no -good any more: on that there is universalagreement.Howevlr, it is not their fault but ours. Once we have lost all the instinctsout of which institutionsgrow, we lose institutions altogether becausewe are no longer good for them. Democracyhas ever been the form of decline power: in Humon, AII-Too-Human (1, in organizing -I 472) already characterizedmodern democracy,togetherwith its hybrids suchas the "GermanReichi as the form of decline of the state. In order that there may be institutions, there rnust be a kind of will, instinct, or imperative, which is antiliberal to the point of malice: the will to tradition, to authority, to responsibility for centuriesto come, to the solidarity of chains of generations,fonn'ard and bachn'a:d.ad, infnitum. When this will is present,somethinglike the im,perium Romanwnis founded; or like Russia,the only powerlt todaywhich hasendurance,which can wait, which canlI still promise something-Russia, the concept that sug-l I gests the oppositeof the wretched European nervous-lI nessand systemof small states,rvhich has entereda I t critical phasewith the founding of the GermanRebh.ll the inThe whole of the West no longer possesses stincts out of which institutions grow, out of which a its "modern future grows:perhapsnothing antagonizes spirit" so much. One lives for the dan one lives very fas! one lives very irresponsibly:preciselythis is called "freedom."That which makesan institution an institution is despised,hated, repudiated: one fears tlre
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 544 danger of a new slavery the rnoment the word'authority"1s even spoken out loud. That is how far decadence has advancecl in the value-instincts of our politicians, of our political partiesr instinctioely they prefer what disintegrates,what hastens the end. Witness modern marringe. All rationality has clearly vanished from modern marriage; yet that is no objec' tion to marriage, but to modernity. The rationality of marriage-tha[ lay in the husband's sole juridical responsiSility, which gave marriage a center of gravity, wtil" tod"y it limpi on both legs. The rationality -of laf in its indissolubility in principle, maniagJthat whichlent it an accent that could be heard above the accident of feeling, passion,and what is merely momentary. It also hyln the family's responsibility for-the choice of a spouse.With the growing indulgence of love matches, th6 very foundation of marriage has been eliminated, that which alone makes an institution of it. Never, absolutely never, can an institution be founded on an idiosyncrasy; one cannot' as I have said, found marriage oo'1ou";'-i1 can be founded on the sex drive, on the property drive (wife and child as property)' on the driie t^odominate, which continually organizes for itself the smallest structure of domination, the family, and which needs children and heirs to hold fastphvsioloqically too-to an attained measure of power, intiu"n"i ani wealth, in order to prePare for longrange tasks, for a solidarity of instinct between the cen' turils. Marriage as an institution involves the affir' mation of thJ hrgest and most enduring form of organization: wheri society cannot affirm itself as a wf,ole, down to the most distant generations,then marriage has altogether no meaning. Vtr-d"-1"-marriage has losf its meanin-g--*onsequently bne abolishes it'
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
545
40 The hbor question. The stupidity-at bottom, the degenerationof instinct, which is today the causeof cll stupidities-is that there is a Iabor questionat all. Certain things one doesnot question:that is the ftrst imperative of instinct. I simply cannot see what one proposesto do with the Europeanworker now that one has madea questionof him. He is far too well off not to askfor more and more,not to askmore immodestly. In the end,he hasnumberson his side.The hopeis gone foreverthat a modestand self-suficientkind of man, a Chinesefire, might here developas a class:and there would have been reasonin that, it would almosthave beena necessity.But what wasdone?Everythingto nip in the bud even the preconditionsfor this: the instincts by virtue of which the worker becomespossibleas a class, possible in his own eyes, have been destroyed through and through with the most irreqponsible The worker was qualiffed for military thoughtlessness. service, granted the right to organize and to vote: is it any wbnder that the worker today experienceshis own existenceas distressing-morallyspeaking,as an injustice?But what is uonted,?I ask oncemore.If one wants an end, one must also want the means:il one wants slaves,then one is a fool if one educatesthem to be masters. 4t which I do not mean." In times like thesg abandonment to one's instincts is one calamity more. Our instincts contradict, disturb, deshoy each other; I have already defined what_lq mqd91n as phyglolo-gicql self-contradiction. Rationality in education would re'Freedom
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 546 quire that under iron pressureat least one of these instinct systemsbe paralyzedto permit anotherto gain in power, to becomestrong,to becomemaster.Today the individual stil! has to be made possibleby being pruned: possiblehere means whole. The reverseis what happens:the claim for independence,for free development,f.or La.isser aller is pressedmost hotly by the very peoplefor whom no reinswould be too strict. This is true dnpolitins,this is true in art. But that is a symptom of decadence:our modern conceptionof "freedom" is one more proof of the degenerationof the instincts. 42 Where faith i"snpeiled.Nothing is rarer amongmoralists and saintsthan honesty.Perhapsthey say the conbary, perhapsthey even belierseit. For when a faith is more useful, more efiective, and more persuasivethan , ponscioushypocrisn then hypocrisy soon turns instine .rtively into inrpcerwe:ffrst principle for the understanding of great saints.The philosophersare merely another kind of saint, and their whole craft is such that they admit only certain truths-namely those for the sakeof which their craft is accordedpublic sanctionin Kantianterms,truths of.procticalreason.They know what they must prove; in this they are practical.They 'the recognizeeach other by their agreementabout 'Thou truths." shalt not lie": in other words, beware, my dear philosopher,of telling the truth. 43 Whisperedto the conseroatioes. What was not known formerly,what ls known,or might be known,today: a reversion,a return in any senseor degreeis simplynot possible.We physiologistsknow that. Yet all priests
5N TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS wanted opposite-they have believed the and moralists to take mankind back, to screw it back, to a former measureof virtue. Morality was alwaysa bed of Pro' crustes.Even the politicianshave aped the preachers of virhe at this point: today too there are still parties whosedreamit ia that all things might walk backwards like crabs.But no one is free to be a crab. Nothing avails: o\e ,nust go forward-step by step further into decadence(that is rny deffnitionof modern"progress"). One can check this developmentand thus dam up degeneration,gather it and make it more vehementand suddan:one can do no more. 44 Greatmen,like greatages' My corceptionof geni.us. forceis storeduPi in which a tremendous are explosives their preconditionis always,historicallyand physiologically, that for a long time much has been gathered' stored up, saved up, and corxerved for them-that there has beenno explosionfor a long time. Once the tensionin the masshasbecometoo great,then the most accidentalstimulussufficesto summoninto the world the "genius," the "deed," the great destiny. What does the environmentmatter then, or the age, or the \irit of the age,"or'public opinion"l Take the case of Napoleon.RevolutionaryFrance, and even more, prerevolutionaryFrance, would have brought fo*h the oppositetype; in fact, it did. Because Napoleon was different, the heir of a stronger, older, more ancient civilization than the one which was then perishingin France,he becamethe masterthere, he oc.s the only master.Great men are necessary,the age in rvhich they appear is acciclental;that they almost alwaysbecomemastersover their age is only because they are stronger,becausethey are older, becausefor a
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 548 Ionger time much was gathered for them. The relationship between a genius and his age is like that between strong and weak, or between old and young: the age is relatively always much younger, thinner, more im' mature, less assured,more childish. That in France today the! think quite differently on this subject (in Germanytoo, but that doesnot matter), that the milieu theory, which is truly a neurotic's theory' has become sacrosanct and almost scientiftc and has found adherentseven among physiologists-that "smells bad" and arouses sad reflections. It is no different in England, but that will not grieve anybody. For the English there are only two ways of coming to terms 'great man": either democratiwith the genius and the -Buckle or religiously in the cally in ihe -^trnet of manner of Carlyle. The danger that Ues in great men and ages is--extraordinary; exhaustion of every kind, sterilily, fo[ow in their wake. The great human being is a finale; the great age-the Reniissance, for example-js a ffnale. the genirrs, in work and deed, is necessarilya squanhimself; that is his gr,eatness. dereri that he squanders -self-preservation is suspended, as it of instinct The were; the overpowering pressure of outflowing forces forbids him any such cire or caution. People call this *self-sacriffce' and praise his "heroism," his indifference to his own wel-being, his devotion to an idea, a great cause, a fatherland: without exception, misunderitandings. He fows out, he overflows, he uses himself up, he loes not spare himself-and this is a calamitous, irivoluntary fataliiy, no less than a river's flooding the land. Yet, because much is owed to such explosives, much has also been given them in retum: for example, a kind of higher moiality. After all, that is the way of human gratifude: it misinderstands its benefactors'
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
649
45 The criminal and. uhat is related to him. The crim' inal type is the type of the strong human being under unfavorable circumstancesi a strong human being made sick. He lacks the wilderness, a somehow freer and more dangerous environment and form of existence, where everything that is weaPons and armor in the instinct of the stiong human being has its rightful place. His oirtues are ostracized by society; the most vivid drives with which he is endowed soon grow together with the depressing afiects-with suspicion, fea1, and dishonor. Yet this is almost the recipe for physiological degeneration. Whoever must do secretly, with long suspense,caution, and cunning, what he can do best and would like most to do, becomes anemic; and because he always harvests only danger, persecution, and calamity from his instincts, his attitude to these instincts is reversed too, and he comes to experience them fatalistically. It is society, our tame, mediocre, emasculated society, in which a natural human being, who comes frorr the mountains or from the adventures of the sea necessarily degenerates into a criminal. Or almost necessarily; for there are cases in which such a man proves stronger than society: tbe Corsican, Napoleon, is the rnost famous case. The testimony of Dostoevski is relevant to this probIem-Dostoevski, the only psychologis! incidentally, from whom I had something to leam; he ranks among the most beautiful strokes of fortune in my life, even more than my discovery of Stendhal. This profourd human being, who was ten times right in his low estimate of the superficial Germans, hved for a long time among the convicts in Siberia-hardened criminals for whom there was no way back to society-and
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 550 found them very different from what he himself hail expected:they were carvedout of iust about the bes! hardest,and most valuable wood that grows anywhere on Russiansoil. Let us generaUzethe case of the criminal: Iet us think of men so constitutedthat, for one reasonor another, they lack public approval and know that they are not felt to be beneffcentor useful-that Chandala feeling that one is not consideredequal, but an outcast, unworthy, contaminating.All men so constituted have a subterranean hue to their thoughtsand actions; everything about them becomespaler than in those whoseexistenceis touchedby daylight. Yet almostall forms of existencewhich we consider distinguished today oncelived in this half tomblikeatmosphere:the scientificcharacter,the artist,the genius,the free spiri! the actor, the merchant, the great discoverer.As long as the priest was consideredthe supreme We, eoery valuable kind of human being was devaluated. The time will come,I promise,when the priest will be consideredthe lowest type, our Chandala,the most mendacious,the most indecentkind of human being. I call attentionto the fact that evennow-under the mildest regimen of morals which has ever ruled on earth, or at least in Europe-every deviation, every long, all-too-long sojourn below, every unusual or opaqueform of existence,brings one closerto that type which is perfectedin the criminal. All innovatorsof the spirit must for a time bear the pallid and fatal mark of the Chandalaon their forehead*not becausethey are consideredthat way by others,but becausethey themselvesfeel the terrible cleavagewhich separates them from everything that is customaryor reputable. Almosteverygeniusknows,asonestageof his develop'Catilinarian rnen! the slisfsnssD-tr feeling of hatred,
TWILIGHT OT THE IDOLS
revenge,and rebellion againste rs. which no lonqer becomes, .',,.-._].a=_-g---r lre-existenceof eie\1 Caesdr.
46 Herc the oieu i,sfueo.lt may be nobility of the soul when a philosopheris silent; it may be love when he contradicts himself; and he who has knowledge may be polite enoughto lie. It has been said, not without delicacy:ll est indigne des grand coeurcd.e$pand.re lc troubb qiils ressefient.l But one must add that not to be afraid of the mostunwodhy may alsobe greatness of soul. A woman who loves, sacriffcesher honor; a knower who "loves" may perhapssacriffcehis humanity; a God who loved becamea Jew. 47 Beautg no arcident. The beauty of a race or familn in all gestures,is won by their grace and graciousness work: Iike genius,it is the end resultof the accumulated work of generations.One must have made great sacriffces to good taste, one must have done much and omitted much for its sake-seventeenth-centuryFrance is admirable in both respects-and good taste must have furnished a principle for selectingcompann placg dress, sexual satisfaction; one must have preferred beauty to advantage,habit, opinion, and inertia. Supreme nrle of conduct: before oneselftoo, one must not "let oneselfgo." The goodthings are immeasurably costly; and the law always holds that those who hcoa them are di-fferentfrom those who acquire them. All that is good is inherited: whatever is not inberited is imperfect, is a mere beginning. 1:I! is unworthyof greatheartsto pour out the confusion _ they feel."
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 552 his In Athens,in the time of Cicero,who expresses far suwere youthsand men this, the surpriseabout in beauty to the women. But what work and 'exertion ""tiot in the serviceof beautyhad the malesexthere oneshouldmakeno imnoredon itself for centuries!-For a breedingof this case: tniiot about the methodin " (this is nothing almost is alone feelinss and thoughts educaGe,rman underlying gr"eat misunde"rstanding the tion,"whichis wholly illusJry); one must ffrst Persuade the'boda.Strict peiseverancein significantand exquithe obligation to live only tii" noitt"t tosither with'let themielves go"-that is not do *iih"o"orrl" wh'o significantand exquibecome to for one ouite'enough all this becomes site, and itt't*o or three generations -the a lot of people and of inward. It is decisivefor in the right place begin humanity that culture should -not in the "soul" (as was the fateful superstitionot ttr" pii"ttt and half-priests):the right place-isthe b-odn th" i"r*t", the diei, physiology;ihe iest follows from tfr"tl ift"t.if"re the Gteekt rlmain the first cultural i" fti""ry: they knew,they did, whatwas needed; ""ri the body,hasbeenthe *hich deqpised "na-6ft.ittiunily, so iar' humanity of misfortune greatest 48 'return to Progressin mg sense.I too speak of a an n"lui"]- althougti it is really nota going back but nature terrible even high,-free,the inti iti"i-"p outut"lftesswhere lreat tasks are something.one "ni plays with, onema7play with' To put it metaphorrcarty: ^Nairoleon was a pieceof "return to nature''-as I under' even staid, the phrasj (for example,in rebus tacticis; strategy)' of matters in knoi' men tiiUt"ry rnor", Rousseau-to what did he really want to retrrm? But "t n*ttt"u, this ffrst modernman, idealistand rabble in
558 TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS one frerson-one who needed moral "dignity" to be able io ttlnnd his own sight, sick with unbridled vanity -and This miscarriage, couched on unbridled self-contJmpt. 'of times, also wanted a "return modirn the threshold more' to what did Rousseau this once ask to nature"; to want to retum? I still hate Rousseau in the French Revolution: it is the world-historical expressionof this duality of idealist and rabble. The bloody farce which became an aspect of the Revolution, its "immorality," are of little concern to me: what I hate is its Rousseauan 'truths' of the Revolution so-called morality-the througli which it still works and attracts everything shallo-wand mediocre. The doctrine of equalityl There is no more poisonous poison an)rvvhere:for it seems to be preached by justice itself, whereas it really is the terriination of justice. "Equal to the equal, un-equalto
n of iustice; the unequal"-that would be the true what is unmake and also its corollary: $wer was suiiounded d;ctrhffe$a:Iry gqual.' That this has given thatevents, bloody and gruesome S:izuch this'rnodim idea" par excellencea kind of glory and fiery aura so that the Revolution as a sp-ectoclehas seducedeven the noblest spirits. In the end, that is no reasonfor respectingit any more. I seeonly one man who experiencedit as it must be experienced,with nousea--Goethe.
49 Goethe-not a Germanevent,but a Europeanone: a magniffcentattemptto overcomethe eighteenthcentury [y a return to nature, by an ascentto the naturalon nessof the Renaissance-akind of self-overcoming instincts He its strongest century. bore the part of that within himself: the sensibility,the idolatry of nature, the anti-historic, the idealistic, the unreal and revolu-
s4
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
tionary (the latter being merelya form of the unreal). He soughthelp from history, natural science,antiquit/' and alsoSpinoza,but, aboveall, from practicalactivity; himselfwith limited horizons;he did not he surroun-ded retire from life but put himselfinto the midst of it; he was not faintheartedbut took asmuch aspossibleupon himself,overhimself,into himself,What he wantedwas of reason, totality; he fought the mutual extraneousness s"nt"tl feeling,*andwill (preachedwith- the-most abby Kant,the antipodeof Goethe); horrentschola'sticism to wholeness,he ueated himhimself he diseiplined self. In the middle of an age with an unreal outlooh Goethewas a convincedrealist: he said Yes to every' thing that was relatedto him in this respect-and he had-no greater experiencethan $at ens tealissirntml calledNipoleon.ioethe conceiveda humanbgtlg Ylo bodily g, highly hiehlv educated,skillful in all bodity strong, be^sttot would be and himself, e"rr'r"svst rvvvsrg reverent toward self-coit.oll-ed, rvYerertL Dcll-culruuucur matters, maftgrsr wealth and range whole the who might dare to afiord of being"natural,being strong-enoughfo-rsuch.freedom; the malo of toleranci, not from weaknessbut from strength,becausehe knowshow to useto his advantage, even"thatfrom which the averagenaturewould perish; the man for whom there is no longer anythingthat is {orbiddeeunless it be ueokness,whether called vice or virtue. Such a spirit who has becomefrce standsamid the cosmos*itf, joyousand trustingfatalism,-inthe faith that onlv the" pa*icular is loathsome,and that all is redeemed and^affirmed in the whole-he does wt *,no,t, otw rnorc.Sucha faith, however,is the highest "all pos"iblefaiths: I have baptizedit with the name of of Diongarc, yMost real beingl
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
555
5o One might say that in a certain sensethe nineteenth crcnturyclio stivb for all that which Goetheas a Person had striven for: universalityin understandingand in rvelcoming,letting everythingcomecloseto oneself' a reverencefor everythingfactual an audaciouJrealism, IIow is it that the over-all result is no Goethe,but chaos,a nihilistic sigh, an utter bewilderment,an instinct of wearinesswhich in practice continually drives toward a recourseto the eighteenthcentury? (For example, as a romanticism of feeling, as altruism and hlpersentimentality, as feminism in taste, as socialism in politics.) Is not the nineteenthcentury, especially at its close,merelyan intensiffed,brutaliaedeighteenth Sothat Goethe century,that is, a century of dpcadence? would-havebeen-not merelyfor Germany,but for all of Europe-a mere interlude, a beautiful "in vain"? But one misunderstandsgreat human beings if one views them from the miserable penpective of some public use. That one cannot put them to any use, that in itself may belong to greatness. Goetheis the last C"r*"Silo, whom I feel any reverence: he would have felt three things which I feel'bross." and we also understandeach other about the I am often askedwhn after all, I write in German: norvheream I read worse than in the fa'.herland.But who knows in the end whether I even wish to be read today? To create things on which time tests its teeth in vain; in form, in substance,to strive for a little immortality-I have never yet been modest enough to demandlessof myself. The aphorism,the apothegm,in which I am the ffrst amongthe Gerrans to be a master,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 550 are the forms of "eternity"; it is my ambition to say in what everyoneelsesaysin a book-what ten sentences everyoneelse doesnot sayin a book. I Lavegivenmankindttre mostprofoundbookit possesses, my Zarathustra;shortly I sh6ll give it the most independent. WIIAT
I
OrilE TO
THE
ANCIENTS
1
fn conclusion, a word about tl'rat world to which I sought approaches, to which I have perhaps found a new approach-the ancient world. My taste, which may be the opposite of a tolerant taste, is in this case too far from saying Yes indiscriminately: it does not Iike to say Yes; rather even No; but best of all, nothing. That applies to whole cultures, it applies to books-also to places and landscapes.At bottom it is a very small number of ancient books that counts in my life; the most famous are not among them. My sense of style, for the epigram as a style, was awakened almost instantly when I came into contact with Sallust. I have not forgotten the surprise of my honored teacher, Corssen, when he had to give his worst Latin pupil the best grade: I had finished with one stroke. Compact, severe, with as much substance as possible, a cold sarcasm against "beautiful words" and "beautiful ssntirnsnfs"here I found myself. And even in my Zarathustra one will recognize a very serious ambition for a Roman style, for the aere perenniusL in style. Nor was my experience any difierent in my ffrst contact with Horace. Te this day, no other poet has given me the same artistic delight that a Horatian ode gave me from the ftrst. In certain languages that which has l "More enduring than bronze."
wl oF THE IDoLs livrucHr been achievedhere could not even be attempted.This mosaic of words, in rvhich every word-as sound, as place,as concept-pours out its strength-right and left ind over the whole, this minimum in the extent and numberof the signs,and the maximumtherebyattained in the energyof the signs-all that is Romanand, if one will believe me, noblc par excellence.All the rest of poetry becomes,in contrist, somethingtoo popular -a meregarrulity of feelings. ,T
, To the GreeksI do not by any meansowe similarly strong impressions;and-to come right out with itt)tey cannotmean as much to us as the Romans.One does not leorn ftom the Greeks-their manner is too foreign, and too fluid, to have an imperativg a "classical" efiect. Who could ever have learnedto write from a Greek?Who could ever have learned it withnt the Romans? For heaven'ssake, do not throw Plato at me. I am a completeskeptic about Plato, and I have never been able to join in the admiration for the aftM Plato which is customaryamong scholars.In the en4 the subtlest judgesof taste amongthe ancientsthemselvesare here on my side. Plato, it seemsto me, throws all stylistic formstogetherand is thus a ffrst-ratedecadentin style: his responsibility is thus comparable to that of the Cynics, who invented the satura Menippea,r To be attracted by the Platonic dialogue, this horribly selfsatisftedand childishkind of dialectic,one must never have read good French writers-Fontenelle, for example. Plato is boring. In the end, my mistrust of Plato goesdeepr he representssuchan aberrationfrom all the basicinstinctsof the Hellene,is so moralistic,so t Varro'ssatireon the modelof Menippusthe Cynic.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 558 pre€xistently Christian-he already taka th9 congept ugood for the highest cnncept-that for the whole phenomenonPlato I would sooneruse the harshp-hrase oidealism," 'higher snindle," or, if it sounds better, thai any other. We have paid dearly for the fact that this Athenian got his schoolingfrom the Egyptians (or from the Jews in Egryt?). In tha! great calamlty' that ambiguity and fasciCh'ristianiEi,Plato repres-ents oideal,' which made it possible for nation, cailed an the nobler spirits of antiquity to misunderstandthemselvesand to set foot on the bridge leading to the cross. And how rnuch Plato there still is in the concept 'church,o in the construction,system' and practice of the churchl My recreation, D/ preference, my cwe from all platonismhasalways'bein Thucydides.Thucydidesand' perhaps,MachiavellikPrirc'tpeire- most closelyrelated io myieU by the unconclitionalwill not to gull oneself and lo seeieason in reality-not in "reason,"still less embellishmentof the in "morality.' For the wretched 'classically educated" the Greels int6 an ideal, which drilli for his classroom a as prize life into carries youth -cure than Thucydides.One ihere is no more complete must follow hirr tine by line and read no less clearly between the lines: tlere are few thinkers who say so much between ttre lines. With him the culture of the Sophists,by which I mean the culture of the realists' reiches its perfect orpressiorr-this inestimablernov€ment amid tire moralisiic and idealistic swindleset loose on all sidesby the Socraticsehools.Greek phllosoph-y: tbe decadenceof the Greek instinct. Thucydides: the great sum,the last revelationof that strcng,swere, haril iactualiw which was instinctive with the older Hellenes.In the end, itis couragein the face of reality that distinguishesa man like Thucydidesfrom Plato: Plato
TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS 559 he fees into is a coward before reality, consequently the ideal; Thucydides has control of. hinself, conse. quently he also maintainscontrol of things. 3 *golden means,' and To smell out teautiful souls,' other perfectionsin the Greeks,or to admiretheir calm in greatnes*their ideal cast of rnind, their noble simplicity-the psychologistin me protectedme against -such "noble iimplicity,' e niaiserieallernandeanyway. I saw their strongestinstinct, the will to power; I saw them tremble Gfore the indomitable force of this drive-I saw how all their institutions gew out of preventivemeasurestaken to protect eachother against iheir inner explosives.This tremendousinward tension then dischargeditself in terrible and ruthless hostility to the outside world: the city-statestore each other to pieces so that the citizens of each might find peace from themselves.One neededto be strong: dangerwas near, it lurked everynvhere.The magniftcent physical suppleness,the audaciousrealismand immoralismwhich diitinguished the Hellene constituted s neeil, not 'natuie.' It only resulted, it was not there from the start. And with festivals and the arts they also aimed at nothing other than to feel on top, to shoo themselves on top. These are meansof gloritlng oneself, and in certain cases,of inspiring fear of oneself. How could one possiblyjudge the Greels by their philosopherqas the Germanshave done, and use the Ftritistiie moralismof the Socraticschoolsas a clue to what was basicallyHelleniclAfter all, the philosophers are the decadentsof Greek culture, the counter-movement to the ancien! noble taste (to the agonistic instinct, to tl'rcpolk, to the value of race, to the authority of descent).The Socraticvirtueswerepreachedbecause
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 560 the Greeks had lost them: excitable' timid, ffckle comedians,every one of them, they had a few reasons too many for having moralspreachedto-them. Not that it did iny good-but big words and attitudes suit decadentsso well. 4 I was the ffrst to take seriousln for the understanding of the older, the still rich and even overflowingHellenic instinct, that wonderful phenomenonwhich bears the name of Dionyzus: it is 6xplicable only in terrrs of an excessof force. Whoever followed the Greeks,like that most profound student of their culture in our time' Iacob^Burcl*rardt in Basel, knew imme&ately that iomething had been accomplishedthereby; and Burckhardt added a special section on this phenomenonto his Croilizdion of tlw Greeles.To seethe opposite,one should look at the almost amusing poverty of instinct among the German philologists when they--apPtoTl tbe D-ionysian. -worldThe famousLobeck, above all, crawled of mysteriousstates with all the veninto this erablesurenessof a worm dried up betweenbooks,and persuadedhimself that it was scientiffcof him to be eliU and childish to the point of nausea-and with the itmost erudition, Lobeck gave us to understand that all &ese curiositiesreally did not amount to anything. fn fact, the priests could have told the participantsin such orgies iome not altogether worthless things; for u*"*ple that wine excites lust, that man can under certain circumstanceslive on fruit, that plants bloom in the spring and wilt in the fall. As regardsthe astonishine dealth of rites, symbols,and myths of an orgiastic origii, with which the ancient world is Iiterally overrun-, this gave Lobeck an opportunity to becomestill moreingefuous.'TheGreels,"he saicl(Ag;l.aophamusl,
561 TWILICHT OF THE IDOLS 672), "when they had nothing else to do, laughed, iumped,and ran iround; or, sinceman sometimesfeels ih"t t tge too, they sat down, cried, and lamented. Others6amelater iln and soughtsomereasonfor this spectacularbehavior;and thus there originated,as explanationsfor thesecustoms,countlesstraditionsconLncerning feastsand myths. On the other hand, it was believed that this d'roll do, which took place on the feast days after all, must also form a necessarypart of the fbstival and therefore it was maintained as an indispensablefeature of the religious seryice." This is conternptibleprattle; a Lobeck simply cannot be taken seriouslyfor a moment. We have quite a difrerent feeling when we examine the concepttreek" which was developedby Winckelmann and Goethe,and ffnd it incompatiblewith that elementout of which Dionysianart grows-the orgiastic. Indeed I do not doubt that as a matter of principle Goethe excluded anything of the sort from Coethe the possibilitiesof the Greeksoul.Consequentlg tlze Greeles.For it is only in the d,id-rct und,erstand' Dionysianmysteries,in the psychologyof the Dionysian state, that the basic tacl of.the Hellenic instinct 6nds expression-its "will to life." What was it that the Hellene guaranteedhimself by means of these mysteries?Etenwl life, the eternal return of life; the future promisedand hallowed in the past; the triumphant Yes io life beyond all death and change;true life as the over-allcontinuationof life throughprocreation,through the mysteriesof sexuality. For the Greeks the serual symbol was therefore the venerable symbol par e:(cellence,the real profundity in the whole of ancient piety. Every single elementin the act of procreation, of pregnancy, and of birth aroused the highest and most solemnfeelings. In the doctrine of the mysteries,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 562 pain is pronounced holy: the pangs of the woman giving birth hallow all pain; all becomingand growing -all that guaranteesa future-involves pain. That there may be the eternal joy of creating,that the will to life may eternally afirm itself, the agony of the woman $ving birth rnusf also be there eternally. All this is meant by the word Dionysus:I know no higher symbolism than this Greek symbolismof the Dionysianfestivals.Here the most profoundinstinct of life, thdt directed toward the future of life, the eternity of life, is experiencedreligiously-anil the way to life, procreation,as the holy way. It was Christianity, with its ressentimenfagainstlife at the bottom of its hearg which first made something unclean of sexuality: it of otu threw filth on the ot€io, on the presupposition life. 5 of the orgiastic as an overflow_ing The psychology -of feeling Ufe and strength,where even pain still has
charge-Aristotle
ffi"y-but
( 6r]h6t,r, r
it
-otd"t
to be
TWILIGHT OT THE IDOLS the eternal ioy of
568
bevond all #
even joy in
destroying. And herewith I again touch that point from which I onc€ went fortht The Birth of Traged'gwas my ffrst revaluationof all values.HerewithI againstandon the soil out of which my intention, my ability grows-I, the last disciple of the philosopher Dionysus-I, the teacherof tbe eternalrecurrence. THE
IIAMMER
SPEATS
"\ll/hy so hard?" the kitchen coal once said to the 'After all, are we not closekin?" diamond. Why so soft? O my brothers, thus I ask you: are you not after all my brothers? Why so soft, so pliant and yielding? Why is there so much denial" seU-denial"in your hearu? So little destiny in your eyes? And if you do not want to be destiniesand inexorable oneq how can you one day triumph with me? And if your hardnessdoesnot wish to flash and cut and cut through,how can you one day createwith me? For all creatorsare hard. And it must seemblessedness to you to imFressyour hand on millennia as on wa& Blessedness to write on the will of millennia as on bronze-harder than bronze, nobler than bronze. Only the noblestis altogetherhard. This new tablet, O my brothers, f place over yous becomehardl Tnrathustra,III, p. 3zO
THE ANTICHNIST EDTTOR'g
PREFACE
After completing Tuiltght ol the ldols, Nietzsche abandoned his'previlousplais foi writing a work to be callecl The Witt to Pouer,-lnstead, he decided to write a fourpart Reaal:uationof All Values: not a collection of notes or iphorisms,but four essays;and he succeededin completing the prefaceand the first essay:Der Antichrist. The title is ambiguous.It lirst calls to mind the apocalyptic Antichrist, and [his more sensationalnrear^ingis in keeping with the author's intention to be as provocative as Pos'"fhe Anti-Christian," si6le. But the title could also mean and this interpretation is nruch more in kceping with the contentsof the book, and in sections38 and 47 the word is used in a context in which this is the only possiblemeaning. 'anti-Semite- is inIt is dso likely tbat a parallel to tended. Nietzsche'sattitude toward anti-Semitismin this work is, at ffrst glance,puzzling;it has evenbeen suggested that his anti-Cfiristianily might have been motivated by anti-semitism.But he is as opposedto anti-Semitismas ever. This is plain in all the othcr works of 1888,including the two books he conrposed aftet The Antlchfist: Ecce Ilomo and Nietzschecontra Wagner. The Iatter consistsof passagesfrom his earlier works, edited slightly; and the relatively few additionsinclude severalaimed at anti-Semitism. And in his last lettershe would even like to shoot all antlSemites.' Nietzsche'ssharply divergent attitudes toward the Old and the New Testamentsfurnish anotherclue. For the Old Testamentwas one of his great loves. "The drgnity 565
THE PORT.{BLE NIETZSCHE 566 of death and a kind of.conseuatlon of passionhave perhaps never yet been representednrore beautifully . . . than by certain Jewsof the Old Testament:to theseeventhe Greek could have gooe to schooll" he writes in a late note; and the sametheme is developedrnore fully, togetherwith his dislike for the New Testament,h Beyond Good anil Eoll (aphorism52, included in this volume) and in the last part of. t\e Genealogy(aphorism zz); and still later it is condensedinto a mere eight words in an addition to a passage cited in Nictzsche contta Wagnetj ln The Antichrist itself, NietzschecitesLuke 6:23, "for in the like mannerdid their 'Impertinent fathers unto the prophets," and conrments: rabblet They compare themselves with the prophets, no less." The Anttchritvtis Part One of the Reoaluation,and one of its main themesis the reversalof the traditional appraisal of the relationship between Christianity and ludaism-an appraisalthat had reached an extremeform in the self'Christian" anti-Semitism styled of those dtys. One may think of Hofprediger Stiicker, of Richard Wagner and his son-in-law Chamberlain,whose tracts made such a tremendous impressionon Hitler and Rosenberg,and also of the man whom Nietzsche's sister married, Bernhard Fdrster. (Of Nietzsche'smany bitter lettersabout this marriage,only one has been included in this volume, dated Christmas 1882.) In Ftjrster's representativeformulation, Christ had appeareclamong the Jewsbecause'bn the dark background of the most depravedof all nations,the bright ffgureof the Savior of the world would stand out the more impressively.Even before he knew Fdrster, Nietzsche had noted down: 'Jesus and Saul: the two most Jewish Jews perhapswho ever lived"; and in The Attichrist this point is elaborated. The New Testament, far from representing any progress 'the people at the bottom, over the Old, confrontsus with 'sinners,' the chandalaswithin the outcasts and Judaism." Wher+Nietzsche is saying to the Christian enti-Semites rSee p. 668.
THE ANTICHRIST 56? whose &agon you seed Hider reaped-where do 9f !is-fay. ftnd all the qualities which you denoun& as typically Jewish if not in the New Testament? Not U6ses aid- the prophets, but Paul and the early Chrristians are 'little superlative Jews." This irony at the expenseof Christian anti-Semitism(compare also section 55: 'An anti-semite certainly is not any more decentbecausehe lies as a matter of .principle") so delights Nietzschethat he reverts again and again to ad homircm argumentsand digs which-iovolve him in the adoptionof his opponents'c;t. The two main types of the book, apart from the lndividual pe_rsonalities of Jesusand Paul,-are the priest and the chandala. Two seniencesin section 5r are &ntral for an understandingof the book: Christianitywas 'not a function of race-it turned to every kind of man who was disinhedted by life, it had its allies everywhere.At the bottom of Christianity is the rancor of the'sick, instinct directed against the healthy, against health itself.. The motif here suggested,of Christianity as the religion of vengefulness par excellence--this complete revaluation of the iccepted point of view-is the main point of the essay.In what dther religion,Nietzscheasks,are-the great -with ffguresso consistently and so imbued tlie spirit of revenge? .characteristically NietzscheexceptsJesus,againstwhom he aluarrce, difierEnt objections;and he dismislesSt. Francis as .neurotic, epiIeptic, a visionary,like Jesus' (The Wllt to poue4 zzr).' Stylistically,the work is, like most of Nietzschet books, very uneven. The often clipped cadencesofter a refreshing contrast to Zarathustra; but frequently the rhetoric gets out of hand. Nietzscheis at his best wfien'he manageito restrain-himself;for examplg jn sections45 and 4gl Voltaire and.Shawmight w-ellhave envied him such passages. PhilosophicallS his uncritical use of termi like-life, nadecadencegreatly weakenshis case.Historicalln lur1 "11 he is often ignorant: the two Hebrew words he sUcks in for effect do not make sense,and his conceptionof Jesus_ to meDtiona more important matter-is quite unconvincing,
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 5S8 though no more so than most such PorEaits. That the book is mLnt to be sho&iogly blasphemousscarcely needspaying' i.ike Nietzsche'sffrst essay,The Birth of Trcgedg, The Antichdst is unscholarly and so full of faults that ooly- a pedant could have any'wish to catalogue them. But unlike inost scholars,Nietzsche sees vital things and has the power to communicate them vividly. And as he himself are more noted at twenty-three: T-gors-ef*geat'lgql fruitful than the truths o-f little men. 12 -------PREFACE
of All Yalues Revaluation This book belongs to the very few. Perhapsnot one of them is even-tving vet. Maybe they will be the readerswho underst"tti my Zarathustra:how could T mistakemyself for one of thosefor whom there are ears evennow?Only the day after tomorrowbelongsto me. Someare born posthumouslY. The conditiois under wliich I am understood,and then of rccessity-Iknow them only too well' One must be honestin mattersof the spirit to the point of hardand nessbefore one can even endure my seriousness my passion.One must be skilledin living on mountains -t"i"i.,g the wretchedephemeralbabbleof politicsand national-self-seekingbenaothoneself.One must have becomeindifierent; one must never ask if the truth is useful or if it may prove our undoing. The predilection of strengthfor questionsfor which no one today has the corr."og"; -to thd courage for the fotbidden; the predestination the labyrinth.An experienceof seven iolitudes. New earsfor new music.Nerv eyesfor what is mostdistant.A new consciencefor truths that have so far remainedmute. And the will to the economyof the
509 THE ANTICHRIST trreat style: keeping our strength, our entlwslasm in Tor oneself;love of oneself;unCoo' Xarness.'Reveretice ditional freedom before oneself. Well thent Such men alone are my readers,my right readers,my predestinedreaders:what matter the restP The rest-tliat is merely mankind. One must be above mankind in strength,it loftirwssof soul-in contempt' Fnrnonrcn NrsTzscHE
FirstBook'TheAntichrist ATTEMPT AT A CRITIQUE OF CHNISTIANITY 1
we know We are Hyperboreans; L.et us face ourselves. very well how far ofi we live. "Nejther by land nor-ly sea-will you ffnd the way to the Hype-rboreans"Pindar alreadyknew this about us. g"yolq the north' ice, and deaiit-our Wq out happiness.We have discoveredhappiness,we know the way,-we^havefound the exit o,tf6f the labyrinth of thousandsof*Iyears.Who else has found it? Modern man perhaps? have got lost; I am everythingthat has got lost," sighsmodern man. This modernity was our sickness:lary peace, cow' ardly compromise, the whole virtuous uncleanliness of tire modernYes and No. This tolerancgand hrgeut of the heart, which "forgives" all becauseit "understands"all, is srocco for us. Ratherlive in the ice than amongmodernvirtues and other southwinds! We were intrepid enough,we sparedneither ourselvesnor others;^butfor a-longtimi we did not know where to turn with our intrepidity. W" becamegloomn
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE Y/O we were called fatalists. Our fatum-the abundance, the tension,the damming of strength. We thirsted for lightning and deeds and were most remote from the -resignation." In our atmoshappinessof the weakling, phere was a thunderstorm;the nature we are became dark-for ue sau tn uay. Formula for our happiness: a Yes,a No, a straight ling a goal. 9.
virtue that is moralinel-free). The weak and the failures shall perish: ffrst principle ol ow love of man. And they shall even be given every assistance. pc:sible What is more harmful than any vice? Active prty for all the failures and all the weak: Christianity. 3 The problem I thus poseis not what shall succeed mankind in the sequenceof living beings (man is an "vin*? >'Iej end), but what type of man shall be bred, shall be uilled, for being higher in value, worthier of life, more certain of a future. Even in the past this higher type has appearedoften -but as a fortunateaccident,as an exception,neveras somethingwilled. In fact, this has been the type most dreaded-almostthe dreadful-and from dreadthe op r The coinageof a man who neithersmokednor drank cofiee.
YII THE ANTICHRIST the domestic Dositebpe was willed, bred, and attahwil: inittral,'ihe herd animal, the sick human animal-the Christian. 4 Mankind does nof representa developmenttoward something better or stronger or higher in the sense '?rogress't is merely modern idea, acoepted*today. -a that-is, a falsi idea. the Europeanof today is vastly inferior in value to the European of the Renaissance: further developmentis altogetherrrct aceordingto any necessityin the direction of elevation,enhancement,or strength. In another sense,successin individual casesis cor stantly encounteredin the most widely difiere_ntplaces and cultures: here we really do ffnd a higlrct type. which is, in relation to mankind as a whole, a kind of have ovennan.Suchfortunateaccidentsof gre4tsuccess always been possible and will perhaps alwap be possible. And even whole families,tribes, or peoplesmay occasionallyreprcsentsuch a buVs-ege. 5 Christianity should not be beautiffed and embellished: it has wageil deaclly war against this higher type of man; it hai placed all the basic instincts of this type under the ban; and out of these instincts it has
N t. rW' ,h< , rf ktau-se efrl (.r Al ozt-q^1' r+'rvr4Yht'n' Zilo*- .nty oqe
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 872 The most pitiful example: th9 ternptations. em)r-as corruption of Pascal, who believed in the comrption of his re-asonthrough original sin when it had in fact been comrpted only by his Christianity. 6 that has dawned on sPectacle horrible is painful, a It me: I have drawn back the curtain from the corn ption of. man. In my mouth, this word is at least free from one suspicion: that it might involve a- moral accusation of rian. It is meantJet me emphasize this so much so that I experionc€ ilor€-fiioraline-free, where men ence this corruption most strongly precisely'virhre" and have so far aqpired most dehberately to guess, will as you "godliness.' I understand comrption, ii the senseof decadence: it ii my contention that all the values in which mankind now sums up its supreme desiderata are dpcod'ence-oolues. I call an animal, a species,or an individual comrpt when it loses its instiicts, when it chooses,when it orefers. what is disadvantageous for it. A history of t'loftv sentiments,'of the 'ideak of mankind"-and it almost is nossible that I shall have to write it-would too whq man is so corrupt. Life itself is to my "rpt"itr mind the instinct for growth, for durability, fot an accumulation of forces,-for pqwet wherc the will to power is lacking there is decline. It is-my contention ihat all the supr-emevalues of mankind lack this willthat the valuei which are symPtomatic of decline, rdhitbttic values, are lording it under the holiest names'
7 Christianityis calledthe religiono! p'tl'Pity stands
onoosed to the tonic emotions which heighten our vital-
ifi
it has a depressingefiect. W= g:
tPri;gl-of
THEANTrcHRrsr 575 7 strength-:vheqwe feel pity. That loss of strengthwhich sufiering as such inftcts on life is still further increased andmultipliedby pity. p:g.g*ggq9g
Under certain circumstances,it may eng
loss of life and vitality out of all proportion to the magnitudeof the cause(as in the caseof the death of but there the Nazarene).That is the ffrst consideration, is a moreimportantone. Supposewe measurepity by the value of the reactions it usually produces;then its perilous nature appearsin an evenbrighterlight. Quite in general,pity ,a\d ciolses the law of development,which is the law of tl$ it selection.It preserveswhat is ripe for destruction; defends those who have been disinherited and con- demnedby life; and by the abundanceof the failures of ; all kinds which it keeps.alive, it gives life itself a a {A and questionableaspecl gloomy (in noble a every dared to call pity virtue have Some ethic it is considereda weakness);and as if this were not enough,it has been made the virtue, the basisand source of all virtues. To be sure-and one should always keep this in mind-this was done by a philosophy that was nihilistic and had inscribedthe negation
-s t
\,,i
of life upon its shield. Schopenhauer tvas consistent enough: pity negateslife and renders it more desetoing , n I t ftlyaq1,ru-Jal.€n 6nigatt;n.
X V:jflit.ii" '
pro"tiL!'&
rep6at: thisde-7.rf
"riirt'Hf#d crossesthoseinstincts pressiveand contagiousinstinct which aim at the preservationof life and at the enhancementof its value. It multiplies misery and conservesall that is miserable,and is thus a prime instruof decadence:pity persuades ment of the advancement : dses-notsay'noth" ox "true Mer" or ingness" bu{ or Nirvana, blessedness.
? t
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 574 This innocentrhetoric from the realm of the religious. moral idiosyncrasyappearsmuch lessinnocentas soon as rve realize whictr tendency it is that here shrouds itself in sublime words: hostikty against lila. Schopenhauer was hostile to life; thereforepity becamea virtue for him. Aristotle, as is well known, consideredpity a patho logical and dangerouscondition,which one would be w6ll advisedto ittack now and then with a purge: he understoodtragedy as a Purge.From the standpointof the instinct of life, a remedy certainly seemsnecessaly for sucha pathologicaland dangerousaccumulationof (and pity asis reipresentidby the casJof Schopenhauer ir"io*un"t"ty by our entire literary and artistic decadencefrom St. Petersburgto Paris,from Tolstoi to Wagner)-to puncture -whote it and make itburst. unhealthy rnodernity there is nothing In our Christian Ptty.Tg be plyrylans than more unhealthy lwre, to be inixorable here, to wield the scalpel here -that is our part, that is our love of man, that is how ue arephilosophen,we Hypuboreafft. 8 It is necessaryto say whom we csnsiderour antithesis: it is the'theologians and whatever has theo' logians'blood in its veiis-and that includesour whole philosophy. Whoevlr has seenthis catastropheat closerange or' better yet, beensubjectedto it and almostperishedof it, will no longer considerit a joking matter (the freethinking of oui honorablenahrral scientistsand physiologistsii to my mind, a joke: they lack passionin these m"atters,they'do nct sufier them as their passionand martyrdom). This poisoningis much more extensive than'is generallysuirposed,l have found the theologi-
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575 THE ANTICHRIST today conanyone ans' instinctive arrogancewherever 'tdealist"-wherever a dght is assiders himself an sumed,on the basisof somehigher origin, to look at reality from a superiorand foreign vantaggpoint. The idealis! exactly like the priest, holds all the greatconceptsin his hand (and not only in his hand!); he plays them out with a benevolentcontempt for the ohonors,o'goodliving," 'un-deistanding,o the'senses,o and "science";he considersall that benaathhim, as so many harmful and seductive forces over which "the spirii' hovers in a state of pure for-itselfness-as if liumility, chastity, poverty, oi, itt one word, holiness, had not harmed life immeasurablymore than any horronl or vices.The pure spirit is the pure lie. idere{a higher type of As long-aq-thepriest ,and poisoner questi\: what is of lil4there i5-no arl-swer{the truth? For truth has been stood on its head\lren the consciousadvocateof nothingnessand negation is ac'truth.' ceptedas the representativeof 9 Against this theologiar.s'instinct I wage war: I have found its traces everywhere.Whoever has theologians' bloodin his veins,seesall thingsin a distortedand dishonestperspectiveto beginwith. The pathoswhich develops out of this condition calls itself. faith: closing one'seyesto oneselfonceand for all, lest one sufferthe sight of incurablefalsehood.This faulty perspectiveon all things is elevatedinto a morality, a virtue, a holiness; the good conscienceis tied to faulty vision; and no other perspectiveis concededany further value once one'sown has been made sacrosanctwith the namesof oGod,"'redemption,"and 'eternity." I havedug up the theologians'instinct everywhererit is the most wide-
l THE PORTABLENIETZSCTTE 678 spread,rc lly &tbteffa.neon,forrr of falsehoodfouuil on earth. Whatevbr p theolo$an feels to be true must be false: this is almost a criterion of truth. His most basic instinct of self-preservationforbids him to respectreality at any point or even to let it get a word in. Wherever the theologians'instinctextends,oalue iudgnents have been stood on $6ir heads.rindthe conceptsof otrue" and reversgd: whatever "falseo ar/ of necgscity 'true"r whatevgt el* is most harmful tolife is called justifiesit,,And'*akd it ttiofll3ii." V/hen theologiansreachout "e6jl""h"o*./"ffirms, umphant,is called 'conscience" of princes (or of for-power th,roughthe peoples),we need never doubt what really happensat Botto*, the will to the end, the nihilistic will, wants power. 1(}
AmongGermansI am immediatd undentoodwhen I say that philosophyhas been comrPtedby_theologians''blood.-ThePiotestantParsonis the grandfatherof Germanphilosophy;Protestantismitself, its peccatum ortginote:\Deffnition of Protestantism: the partial paralysii of Christianity.--cnd of reason.One need_merely iay "Tiibingen Seminar;f to understandwhat C'emran philosophy"is 'swabians'are at bottomz an insidioastheology. The the best liars in Germany: they lie innocentlv. Wity *"t Kant's appearancegreeted with jubilation Germanscholiri--of whJm three-fourthsare the "*oni and teachqrs-and whence came the so* 6f parsons -conviction, echoedeven today, that a change German with Kant? The theologians'inbegan better for the stinct in the Geruranscholarsdivined whot had. once t'Original
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THE ANTICHRIST 677 asain been made possible.A path had been found on rtihi"h one could sireakback ti the old ideal. The conception ot autnte u)odd," the conceptionof morality as ttre essenceof the world (these two most malignant errors of all timet), were once again,thanksto a wily and shrewd skepticism, if not provable, at least no longer rcfutable. Reason,the right of reasor! doesnot *ap extend that far. Reality had beenreducedto mere pearance,oand a mendaciouslyfabricated world, the world of being, was honored as reality. Kant's success is merely a theologians'success:like Luther, like Leib' nia Kant was one more clog for Germanhonesty,which was none too steady in the ffrst place. 11
One more word againstKant as a moral&. A virtue must be out oun invention, our most necessaryselfexpressionand self-defense:any other kind of virtue is merely a danger.Whatever is not a condition of our Me harms it: a virtue that is prompted solely by a 'virtue," as Kant feeling of respect for the eoncept of odut/," the 'good oVirtue," would have it, is harmful. in itself," the good which is impersonaland universally valid-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 578 it; yet this tobe fightby the pleasurethat accompanies considered entrails nthilist inittt ttit CLristian dogmatic pleasurean obiection' What could destroy us more ?luicklythan working,thinking,and feelingwithout any without any deeply Plfon-al choice, i-r,trert pleasire-as an automatonof -'duty''? This is without"""rtity, the very recipe for decadence,even for idiocy, Kant becamean idiot. And this man was a contemporaryof Goethe! This catastrophic spider was consideredthe Germanphilosopher-he still is! I bewalreof sayingwhat I think of the Germans.Did not Kant ffntl in the French Revolutionthe transition from the inorganic form of the state to'Jte organicPDid he not ask himselfwhethertherewas any eventI'hich could be explainedonly in termsof ,a moral disposition of mankind, an event which would demonshateonce 'tendencyof mankindtowardthe good'? and for all the
Kantt gnswel: .]ThisF -t!e Revolution'-.m: :itliTi as instinct, Gerrnan Krllttl
--/
I except a few skeptics-the decenttype in the history of philosophy, tie rest -aresimply unawareof the most bisic re{uirements of intellectual hone-sty'All these great enfhusiastsand prodigiesbehavelike our little females:thev consider'beautifulsentiments'adeouatearquments,regarda heavingbosomasthe bellows a uiterion of truth' In the oi the dEitv,and coirviction 'G€rman' innocence,to give this end, Kant iti"d, *ith comrntion, this lack of any intellectual conscience, scientiffcstatuswith his notion of'practical reason": he inventeda specialkind of reasonfor casesin which one neednot botheraboutreason-that ig when moral-
THE ANTICHRIST 579 Ity, when the sublime command'thou shalg'raises its voice. When we considerthat amongalmostall peoplesthe philosopheris merely the next developmlnt-of the priestly fire, then this legacy of the priest, this selfdeceiving-counterfeit,ceasesto be suqprising.Ilaving sacredtasks,such as improving, saving,or redeemin! mankind-carrying the aeity in lis bosoinand beingthE mouthpieceof imperativesfrom the beyond-with such a missiona man naturallystandsoutsideall merelyintellectualvaluations:he himselfis sanctifiedby such a task, he himself is a tme of a higher order! What is scienceto the priest?He is abovethatt And until now the priest_has ruledl He determinedthe concipts of 'true" and ourrtrue't Let ns not underestirn",ltf,*r we ourseloes,wefree spirits, are nothing less than a *revaluation of all values,"an incarnatedeclarationof war and triumoh over all the ancientconceptionsof otrueoand .untrue.The most valuableinsighti are discoveredlast; but the most valuableinsightsare the methods.All the methods,all the presuppositions of our currentscientiffcoutlook,wereopposedfor thousandsof yearswith the nost profoundcontempt.For their sake,men were excluded frorn the companyof'decent'people and considered *enemies of God," despisersof the truth, and ..possessed."Anyonewith a scientiffcbent was a Chandiala. We have had the whole pathosof mankind against us-their conceptionof whlt truth ouglrf to lie, of what the serviceof the truth urglft to bi: every..thou shalt" has hitherto been aimed igainst us. Oui obiectiyes,our practice,our quiet, cauti,ous, mistrtrstfulmtn_
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 580 these were considered utterly unworthy and ner-all contemptible. In the end one might well ask whether it was not really an aesthetic taste that kept mankind in blindness for so long: a pictures<1ueefiect was demanded of the truth, and the lover of knowledge was expected to make a strong impression on the senses. Our modesty ofiended men s taste longest of all. How well they divined that, these turkeycocks of Godl r4 We have learned differently. We have become more modest in every rvay. We no longer derive man from 'the 'the deity''; rve have placed him back spirit' or among the animals. We consider him the strongest ani' mal because he is the most cunning: his spirituality is a consequenceof this. On the other hand, we oPPose the vanity that rvould raise its head again here tooas if mair had been the great hidden PurPose of the evolution of the aninrals. Man is by no means the crown of creation: evcry living being stands beside him on the same level of perfection. And even this is saying too much: relatively speaking, man is the most bungled of all the anirnrrls,theiickliest, and not one has strayedmore dangerously from its instincts. But for all that, he is of course tlre most interesting. As regards the animalsl Descartes was the ffrst to have daied, with admirable boldness, to understand the animal as machina: the whole of our physiology endeavors to prove this claim. And we are consistent enough not to except man, as Deseartesstill did: our know"ledgeof man ioday goes just-as far as we understand him mechanisticrrlly. Formerly man was given a 'free willl' as his dowry fi'om a higher order: today -we havc taken his v'ill away altogether, in the sense that
THE ANTICHRIST 581 we no longer admit the will as a faculty. The old word 'will" now servesonly to denote a resultant, a kind of individual reaction,which-follows necessarilyupon a numberof partly contradictory,partly harmoniousstimuli: the will no longer'acts"or'moves." Formerly, the proof of man's higher origin, of his 'spirit.' divinity, was found in his consciousness, in his To becomeperfect, he rvas advised to draw in his senses,turtle fashior! to cease all intercoursewith earthly things, to shedhis mortal shroud: then his essencewould remain, the 'pure spirit." Here too we have reconsidered:the developmentof consciousness, the "ggj1jt,"is for us nothing lessthan the symptomof a relativeimperfectionof the organism;it meaps_!rylgg;, groping;blundpring-an exertionwhich usesup an un, necessary amoun!of deivorii eneigy.We deny[hat anything can be done pbrfectlyas-long as it is still done 'pure consciously. The spirit" is a pure stupidity: if we subtractthe nervoussystemand the senses-the'mortal shrcud"-d1en ue miscalculate-that is alll 15 In Christianityneithermorality nor religionhas even a singlepoint of contactwith reality. Nothing but imaginary causes ('God," *soul," 'ego," 'spirit,- ufree willl'-for that matter, *unfree will"), nothing but imaginary effects ('sirU" "'grace," ]runish'forgiveness ment" of sins"). between imaginarybeings('God,"'spirits,o osouls");an imaginary tutural science(anthropocentric;no trace of any concept of naturalcarrses);an imaginarypsychology(nothing but self-misunderstandings, interpretationsof agreeable or disagreeablegeneralfeelingi-for exampl6,of the stateso{the neius sympathicilvwith the;id of the srgnlanguageof the religio-moralidios;rncrasy:'re-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 582 'pangs of conscience,'"tempt{tion by the pent-alr99i qgYl,"-"the_presenc€ 9f G,od"); an imaginarytetiology kingdom of "the Iast Judgmeni,"'eterrial God," _('the life"). This uorld ol pure fiaion is vastly inferior to the world of dreams insofar as the latter nrlrrors reality, rvhereasthe former falsiffes,devalues,and negatesreality. Oncethe conceptof 'nature- had beeniulventedas the opp-osite of 'God,''naturalo had to becomea syn'reprehensible': onym of this whole world of ffction is rooted in hatreil of the natural (of reality!); it is the expressionof a profound vexationat the sight of reality. But this_erpl.ainseoerything.Who alone has good reasonto Iie his way out of reality? He who sufiers fiom it. But to sufier from reality is to be a piece of of rya]ity that has come to grief. The preponderance feelingsof displeasureover feelingsof pleasureis the causeof this ffctitiousmorality and religion; but such a preponderanceprovides the very formula for decadence. r6 A critigue of the Chri.stianconceptionof Goil fiorces us to the sameconelusion.A peoplethat still believes in itself retainsits own god. In him it reveresthe conditions whieh let it prevail, its virtues: it projects its pleasurein itself, its feeling of power, into a being to whom one may offer thanks.Whoever is rich wants to give of his riches;a proud peopleneedsa god: it wants to sacrifice.Under suchconditions,religion is a form of thankfulness. Being thankful for hims'elf,man needs a god. Such a god must be able to hefu and to harn5 to be friend and enemy-he is admired whether good or destructive.The anti-naturulcastrationof a god, to makehim a god of the good alone,rvouldhere be con-
THE ANTICHRIST 5&} trary to everythingdesirable.The evil god is neededno less than the good god: after all, we do not owe our own existenceto toleranceand humanitarianism. What would be the point of a god who knew nothing of wrath, revenge,envy, scorn, cunning, and violence? who had perhaps never experiencedthe delightful ardeurc of victory and annihilation? No one rvould understandsucha god: why havehim then? To be sure,when a peopleis perishing,when it feels how its faith in the future and its hope of freedom are waning irrevocably, when submissionbegins to appear to it as the prime necessityand it becomesaware of the virtues of the subjugatedas the conditionsof selfpreservatiorqthen its god has fo changetoo. Now he 'peace becomesa sneak,timid and modest;he counsels of soul," hate-no-more,forbearance,even "love" of friend and enemy. He moralizesconstantln he crarvls into the cave of every private virhre, he becomesgod for everyman, he becomesa private person,l a cosmopolitan. Formerly, he representeda people,the shength of a people, everything aggressiveand power-thirsty in the soul of a people;now he is merelythe good god. Indeed,there is no other alternativefor gods: eitlrar they are the will to power, and they remain a people's gods,or the incapacityfor power, and then they necessarily becomegooil. Wherever the will to pK", declines in any form, there is invariably also a physiologicalretrogression, decadence. The deity of decadence, geldedin his most virile virhes and instincts, becomesof necessitythe I Literal banslatiouof tie Greekldiotes;d. sectionzg p. 6or.
THE PORTABLENIETZ$CHE 584 god of the physiologicallyrefograde, of the weak. Of course,they do not call themselvesthe weak; they call themselves"the good." No further hint is requiredto indicate the moments in history at which the dualistic fiction of a goodand an evil god ffrst becamepossible.The sameinstinct which prompts the subjugatedto reduce their god t9_tfe -good=-in-itself" also prompts them to eliminateall the good qualitiesfrom the god of their conquerors;_they iake revengeon their mastersby turning their god into the ileoil. The good god and the devil-both abortions of decadence How can anyonetoday still submit to the simplicity of Christiantheologiansto the point of insistingwith them that the developmentof the conceptionof God from the "God of Isriel,o the god of a people,to the Christian God, the quintessenceof everything good, Yet even Renan does this. As if representsprogress? Renanhad the-rightto be simple-mindedlAfter all, the oppositestaresyou in the face. When the presupposi' tibns of ascend.inglife, when everything strong, brave, masterful,and proud is eliminatedfrom the conception stepby stepinto a mere of God; when he degenerates for the a she-et-anchor the weary,symbol,a stafi for poor,-the god of-the becomes'the he when drorvning; sinners,and the sick par excellence,and the attribute "Savior" or "Redeemer"remainsin the end as the one essentialattribute of divinity-just tolrat does such a transformation signify? what, such a teduction of the divine? ' To be sure,"the kingdomof God" has thus beenenIarsed. Formeily he hi'd only his people,his "chosert'' p"o'pt". Then he, like his people' becamea wanderer ind *et t irrto foreignlands;and ever since,he hasnot settled down anvw-here-until hg ffnally came to feel
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THE ANTICHRIST 585 at home anywhere, this great c,osmopolitan-until'the great numbers" and half the earth were on his side. Nevertheless,the god of "the great numbers," the democrat ar:long the gods, did not become a proud pagan god: he remained a Jew, he remained a god of nooks, the god of all the dark corners and places, of all the unhealthy quarters the world overl His world-wide kingdom is, as ever, an underworld kingdom, a hospital, a souterrainL kingdom, a ghetto kingdom. And he himself : so pale, so weak, so decadent. Even the palest of the pale were able to master him: our honorable metaphysicians, those concept-albinos. They spun their webs around him until, hypnotized by their motions, he himself became a spider, another metaphysician. Now he, in turn, spun the wotld out of himself-sub specie Spinozaa. Now he transfigLrred himself into something ever thinner and paler; he became 'ideal," an he became "pure spirit," the "Absolute,",the "thing-in-itself." The deterioration of a god: God became tle "thing-in-itself." r8 The Christian conception of God-God as god of the sick, God as a spider, God as spirit-is one of the most corrupt conceptions of the divine ever attained on earth. It may even represent the low-water mark in the descending development of divine types. God degenerated into the contrad,ictionof life, instead of being its transffguration and eternal Yesl God as the declaration of war against life, against nature, against the will to Iive! God-the formula for every slander against "this world," for every lie about the "beyond"l God-the _t L'espfit soutenain was the title of the ffrst volume by Dostoevski t}lat Nietzsche pickecl up in 1887, in FrencL translation.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 580 deiffcation of nothingness, the will to nothingness proaounced holyl 19 That the strong races of northern Europe did not reject the Christiin God certainly does ni credit to their religious genius-not to speak of their taste. There is no excusewhatever for their failure to disposeof such a sickly and senile product of decadence. But a curse lies upon them for this failure: they have absorbed sickness,old age, and contradiction into all their instinctsand since then they have not created another god. Almost two thousand years-and not a single new godl But still, as if his existencewere justified, as if he represented the ultimate and the maximum of the god-creating power, of the creator spiritus in man, this pitiful god of Christian monotono-theisml This hybrid producf of decay, this mixture of zero, concept, and contradiction, in which all the instincts of decadence,all cowardices and wearinessesof the soul, ffnd their sanctionl^, (ir,;\"'' V' r' g.-pirffri MteP( r-l{w,;' i 20 4- ab;qrlr'|v. I hope that my condemnation of Christianity has not involved me in any injustice to a related religion with an even larger number of adherentsz Buddhi.sm. Both belong together as nihilistic religions-they are religions of decadence-but they difier most remarkablv. For being in a position rro# to compare them, the of "iiti" of Christianity is profoundly grateful to the students India. Buddhism is a hundred times rirore realistic than Christianity: posing problems objectively and coolly is part of its inheritance, for Buddhism comes after a philosophic movement which spanned centuries. The concept of "God' had long been disposed of when it
587 THE ANTICHRIST arrived. Buddhism is the only genuinely positivistic reli.qionin history. This applieseven to its theory of knowledge(a strict phenomenalism):it no longersays 'stmggle-againstslnj' but, duly respectfulof reality, "strugfle against wffering! Buddhism is profound$ distinguisheafrom Christianityby the fact th_atthe selfdeceptionof the moral concePtslies far behind it. In it standsbeyondgood and evil. my t^erms, -The tu.rophysiologicalfucis on which it is basedand sensitivity' which it keepsin mind are: first,an excessive which manifestsitself in a reffnedsusceptibilityto pain; an all-tooJongprean overspiritualization, and second,, occupationwith conceptsand logical procedures,which hasdamagedthe instinetof personalityby subordinating it to the oimpersonal"(both stateswhich at leastsome 'objective" like of my readers,thosewho are -myself, will know from experience).Thesephysiologicalcondiand the Buddhaproceeds tionshaveled to a depression, Againstit he recommeasures. hygienic with againstthis mendslife in the openair, the wanderinglife; moderation in eating and a careful selectionof foods; wariness of all intoxicants;warinessalsoof all emotionsthat activate the gall bladderor heat the blood; no wotry either for oneselfor for others.He prescribesideaswhich are either soothing or cheering, and he invents meansfor weaning oneself from all the others. He understands ashealth-promoting. goodness and graciousness Prayer is ruled out, and so is ascetici.sm;there is no categoricat imperative, no compulsionwhatever, not even in the monasticsocieties(one may leave again). All thesethingswould merely increasethe excessivesensitivitv we mentioned.For the samereason,he doesnot askhis followersto ffght thosewho think otherwise:there is nothing to which his doctrineis more opposedthan the feeling of revenge, antipathy, ressertiment ("it is
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 588 not by enmity that enmity is ended'l-that is the stirriag refrain of ait guddhism). And all this is quite right: these emotionswould indeed be utterly unhealthg in view of the basic hygienic pu{pose. which Againstthe spiritualexhaustionhe encounters, "objectivity" (that is, in mani stsitself in an excessive the individualis loss of interest in himself, in the lossof a centerof gravity,of "egoism"),he ffghtswith a rigorous attempt to Iead back eventhe most spiritualinterests to the person.In the Buddha'sdoctrine' egoism 'one thing needful,"the question becomesa duty: the 'how can you iscapefrom su{Iering?"regulate_s and limits the wh6lespiritualdiet. (Perhapsonemayhererecall that Athenian who also waged war against any pure 'scientismo-socrates, who elevatedpersonalegoismto an ethic, evenin the realmof problems.) mild climate, eustoms and the absence of had to originate movement the moreover, i classes. e higher, hioher- and and even even the the scholarly, scholarlV, classes. among the
Cheetdness, dalm, and freedom from desire are the hiehestqoal, and the goal is attained.Buddhismis not a ieligiin in which oie merely aspires to perfection: perfection is the normalcase. In Christianity the instincts of the subiugatedand oppressedcome to the fore: here the lowest classesseek iheir salvation.The casuistryof sin, self-criticism,the inquisition of the conscience'are pursuedas a pastitne, asi remedyfor boredom;the emotionalreactionto one 'God,- is constantlysustained who has io*"r, called (by meanl of prayer); andwhat is highestis considered rioitt"i*Ut", i gift, "gtace.nPublie acts are precluded;
589 the hiding-place,the darkenedtoom, is Christian. The senqranl;n-the bodujs d6spised,Ftfi$e-rdPudiateq hFFeTFDudmte\ as setqralign-the boov*-detP-tlqd, THE ANTICHRIST
(thre.. fir't'phrisUan cnur\n even Oloeps.,XEq,f,linqss o'fo .pas'the.clos-""r,rrXft"."ztflp#irtsiqfuitheffi ./
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there rve\e tws hnrn.; Uhrisuantoo rs a -alorie-i Lsstinq4in-Co#ova lense oi cruelty against oneself and against
others; hatred of all who think difierently; the will to persecute. Gloomy and exeiting conceptions predomiirate; the most highly desired states,designated with the highest names, ire epileptoid; the diet is so chosen aJto f"vor morbid phenomena and overstimulate the nerves. Christian too is mortal enmity against the lords
of the earth, against the "noble"-along with a sly, secret rivalry (one leavesthem the "body," one wants only the "soul"). Christian,ffnally,js the hatred of the spi*t, of.pride, courage,freedom, ItE ty of the spirit; Christian is the hatred of the senses,of joy in the senses, of joy itself. 22
When Christianity left its native soil, the lowest classes, the underuoild of tbe ancient world, when it began to seekpower among barbarian peoples, it rvas no lonlser confronted with wiary men but with inwardly brutalized, cruel people-strong but bungled men. Here, dissatisfaction with oneself, sufiering from oneself, are twt due to an excessive sensitivity and susceptibility to pain, as among the Buddhists, but, on the contrary to an oveqpoweringdesire to infict pain and to ffnd an outlet for inner telnsions in hostile-acts and ideas. Christianity needed barbaric concepts and values to become master over barbarians; for example, the sacriffce of the ffrst-bom, the drinking of blood in the Lord's Supper,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 590 the contemptfor the spirit and for culture, torhrre in all its forms,both sensuousand not sensuous,and the great pomp of the cult. Buddhismis a religion for hte men, for graciousand gentle raceswho have becomeoverspiritual and excessively susceptibleto pain (Europe is far from ripe for it) : it is a way of leadingthem backto peaceand cheerfulness,to a diet for the spirit and a certain inuring of the body. Christianity would becomemaster overbeasts of prey: its method is to make them sic&,.enfeeblement is the Christianrecipe f.or taming, for 'civilizing." Buddhism is a religion for the end and the wearinessof civilization; Christianity ffnds no civilization as yet-under certain circumstaucesit might lay the foundation for one. 23 Buddhism,I repeat,is a hundredtimes colder,more truthful, more objective.It is no longer confrontedwith the need to make suffering and the susceptibility to pain retpectableby interpreting them in terms of sinit simply sayswhat it thinks: "I suffer." To the barbarian, however,sufieringas such is not respectable:he requiresan exegesisbefore he will admit to himselfthat he is sufiering (his instinct would soonerdirect him to deny his sufieringand bearitin silence).Herethe word 'devil'was a blessing:man had an oveqpowering and terrible enemy-man need not be ashamedof sufrering at the hands of such an enemy. At the bottom of Christianitythere aresomesubtleties that belong to the Orient. Above all, it knows that it is a matter of complete indifference whether something is true, while it is of the utmost importance whether it is believed to be true. Truth and the faith that somethingis true: two completely separaterealms of
591 THE ANTTCHRIST interest-almost diametricallyoppositerealms-they are reachedby ufterly difierent iathi. Having knowledgeof this-that is almostthe deffnition of the wise man in the Orient: the Brahminsunderstandthis; Platounderstands this; and so doesevery studentof esotericwisdom.If, for example,it makesmen happy to believe that they have beenredeemedfrom sin, it is not necessary'as a condition for this, that man is, in fact, sinful, but merely that he feelssinful. And if faith is quite generallyneeded aboveall, then reason,knowledge,and inquiry must be discredited: the way to truth becomesthe fotbidilen
never be contradicted by any reality or be
any fulffllment-a hope for the tinual suspense,the_ evils, the
nate in corr' the evil of in the
evils.r)
To make looe possible,God must be e Person; to permit the lowest instincts to participate,, God 4 mu\h.be Younq. To excite the ardor of the fema I. a aIlU n df(|t o ,r " i ol in the beautifilsai-nfniirstbepla , t , F 1 to become master that
sgneapti6ilisiac or Adonis cult has already esta
the general conception of a cult. The requirement of chastity strengthens the vehemence and inwardliness of the religious instinct: it makes the cult warmer' more enthusiastie, more soulful. Love is the state in which man sees things most de' cidedly as they are not. The power of illusion is at its rPandora's box.
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
oeak here, as is the power to sweeterrand transffgure. in love man endutesinore, man bearseverything.A relieion had to be inventedin which one could love: what is"wont in life is thus overcome-it is not even seenany more. So much for the three Christian virtues: faith, love, hope-I cdl them the three Christian shteudtwsses' gdaahism is too late, too positivistic, to be shrewd in this way. 24 Here I merely touch on the problem of the generfsof Christianity.Tie firstprinciplefor its solutionis: Chris' tianity c"tt b" underst6odonly in termsof the soil out of which it grew-it is not acounter-movementto tle Jewish instin'ct, it is its very consequence'one inference more in its awe-inspirini logic. In th9 formula of the 'salvatidn is Jf the Redeemer: Jews."The secondprinciof the Galilean is still type psychological the is: Fle iecoenizableJbut only in its complete degeneration (which is at the sami time a mutilation and an overIoadine with alien features) could it serve as that for *hi"h"it has been used-as the $pe of a redeemerof mankind. The Jews are the shangestPeoPlein world history becausg confrontedwith the questionwhether to be or not to be, tley chose,with a perfectly uncanny deliberateness,io b6 at any Tice: lhis priie was-the radical falsifrc;tion of all nature, all natuialness,all reality, of ihe whole irurerworld aswell asthe outer' They deffned themselves sharply against all th9 conditions under which a peopletoa nlne*o been able to live, been althey createda counterhuedtilv6; out of themselves csnceDtto rwtudcon&tions: they turned religiorUculg mot"lity, history,psychology,one after the other, into an
THE ANTICHRIST , incrrrable contradiction to thetr twtural
593 oalues, We
encounterthis samephenomenononce againand in immeasurablyenlargedproportions,yet merely as a coPy: the Christian church cannot make the slightestclaim to originality when comparedwith the "holy people."That precisely-iswhy the Jewsare the most cotasttoplwcpeo' ile of world hiitory: by their aftereffectthey have made irankind so thoroughly false that even today the Christian canfeel anti-Jewishwithout realizingthat he himself is the ultimate leuish consequence, lnmy Getwaloggof Morals I ofiered the ffrst psychological analysisof the counter-concePtsof a noble mo' rality and a-morality of,ressenthnent-the latter born of the No to the former: but this is the Judaeo-Christian moratty pure and simple. So that it eould say No to in! on earth tha^trepresentsthe ascenclingtend"u"tyttof Me, to that which hasturned out well, to Power, ency to beauty,to self-affirmation,the instinct of resserrtimerrt, which had here becomegenius, had to invent another world from whosepoint of view this affirmation of lifo appearedas evil, as the reprehensibleas such. Psychologicallyconsidered,the Jewish people are a people endowed with the toughest vital energy, who, voluntarily and out placed in impossiblecircumstances, -of th" *ort pmfound prudenceof self-presentation,take sideswith all the instinctsof decadence-not as mastered by them, but becausethey divined. a power in these instincts with which one could prevail against 'the world." The Jewsare the antithesisof all decadents: tlrey have had to rcpresentdecadentsto the point of illusion; with a non pltts ultra of.histrionic genius they have lcnownhow to place themselvesat the head of all movementsof decadence(as the Cbristianityof.Paul), in orderto createsomethingout of themwhich is stronger than any Yes-sayingparty of life. Decadenceis only a
594 'tnearw
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
for the type of man who demands power in ]udaism and Christianity, the priestly typer this type of man has a life interest in making mankind sick and in so twisting the conceptsof good and evil, true and false, as to imperil life and slander the world. 25 The history of Israel is invaluable as the typical history of all denaturing of natural values. I indicate ftve points; Originally, especially at the time of the kings, Israel also stood in the right, that is, the natural, relationship to all things. Its Yahweh was the expressionof a consciousnessof power, of joy in oneself, of hope for oneself: through him victory and welfare were expected; through him nature was trusted to give what the people needed-above all, rain. Yahweh is the god of Israel and therefore the god of justice: the logic of every people that is in power and has a good conscience.In the festival cult these two sides of the self-affirmation of a people find expression: they are grateful for the great destinies which raised them to the top; they are grateful in relation to the annual cycle of the seasons and to all good fortune in stock farming and agriculture. This state of afiairs long remained the ideal, even after it had been done away with in melancholy fashion: anarchy within, the Assyrian without. The people, horvever, clung to the vision, as the highest desirability, of a king who is a good soldier and severe judge: above all, tliat typical prophet (that is, critic and satirist of the moment),Isaiah. But all hopes remaineil unfulfflled. The olil god w11 no longer abli to do what he once could do. They should have lit him go. What happened? They changed-hls concept-they denatured hiiioncept: at this price they
THE ANTICHRIST 595 'justice--no held on to him. Yahweh the god of longer one with Israel, an expressionof the self-confidenceof the people: now a god only under certrrin conditions. The concept of God becomes a tool irr the hands of priestly agitators, who now intelpret all happinessas a rervard, all unhappiness as punishment for disobeying 'sin": God, as that most mendaciousdevice of interpre'moral tation, the alleged world order," rvith which the nafural concepts of cause and effect are turned upside down once and for all. When, through reward and punisbrnent, one has done away with natural causaliry, an anti-natural causality is required: now evervthing else thrt is unnatural follows. A god who dcmand"*itr-place of a god who helps, who devises means, rvho is ,rCbottom the word for every happy inspiration of courage and self-conffdence. \Iorality-no longer the expressionof the conditions for the life and growth of a people, no longer its most basic instinct of life, but become abstract, become the antithesis of life-morality as the systematic degrada*evil eye'for all things. _tftmof the imagination, as the \\trat is Jewish, what is Christiun, moralitv? Chance done out of its innocence; misfortune besmirched with 'sin"; the co-nceptof well-being ns I dirnger, a 'temptation"; physiological indisposition poisoned rvith the worrn of conscience.
z6 - The conceptof God falsiffed,the ioncept of morality falsiffed:thelewish priesthooddid not stip there.ThL rvhole of the history of Israel could not be used, away rvith itl Thesepriestsaccomplished a miracleof falsidcation,and a good part of the Bible norvlies beforeus as documentaryproof. With matchlessscornfor every traditio& for every historical reality, they translatedthe
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 598 their past of own people into religious terms, that ls, they turned it into a stupitl salvation mechanism of guilt before Yahweh, and punishment; of piety before Yahweh, and reward. We would experience this most disgraceful act of historical falsiffcation as something much more painful if the ecclesiastdcclinterpretation of history had not all but deafened us in the course of thousands of years to the demands of integrity in h,istonas. And the church was seconded by the philosophersz the li,e of the "moral world order" runs through the whole development of modern philosophy. What does "moral world order" mean? That there is a will of God, once and for all, as to what man is to do and what he is not to do; that the value of a people, of an individual, is to be measured according to how mueh or horv little the will of God is obeyed; that the will of God manifests itself in the destinies of a people, of an individual, as the ruling factor, that is to say, as punishing and rewarding according to the degree of obedience. The reality in place of this pitiful lie is this: a parasitical type of man, thriving only at the expense of all healthy forms of life, the priest, uses the name of God in vain: he calls a state of affairs in rvhich the priest determines the value of things "the kingclom of God'; he calls the means bv which such a state is attained or maintained "the wili of God'; with cold-blooded cynicism he measurespeoples, ages, individuals, according to whether they proffted or resisted the overlordship of the priests. One should see them at workr in the hands of the jewish priests the great age in the history of Israel became an age of decay; the Exile, the long misfortune, was transformed into an eternal punishment for the great age-an age in which the priest was still a nobody. Depending on their own requirernents, they 'todmade either wretchedly meek and sleek prigs or
THE ANTICHRIST 597 ffgures very bold, powerful, often out of the lessones' in the history of Israel; they simpliffed the psychologyi of, every great event by reducing it to the idiotic for. \ dobidienceor disobedience I to God." mula, (that is, the conOne stepfurther: the'will of God" ditions for the preservationof priestly power) must be 'revelation" is required. In plain krnwn: to this end a a FL\ Ianguage:a greatliterary forgeryp.Eomesnecessary, 'hiy scriptuid is discovered;ffilhgle$btic-wtth X'JJ ys of orrqgffirs-oi Bonrvttra"r, -ov9r^ttrjTo"q--sin.'The'will ft{
of go$"hla $s
Iorig-beenffxed: all misfortunerests on one'shaving 'holy 'will scripture." The becomeestrangedfrom the of God'had alreadybeenrevealedto Moses.What hap. pened?With severity and pedantry, the priest formulated oneeand for all, down to the large and small taxes he was to be paid (not to forget the tastiestpiecesof meat, for the priest is a steakeater), what he wantsto have, 'what the will of God is." From now on all things in Me are so orderedthat the priest is indispensable everywhere;at all natural occurrences in life, at bi*h, 'sacriftceso marriage,sickness,death, not to speak of (meals),the holy parasiteappearsin order to denature 'consecrate.' them-in his languagelto For one must understandthis: everynatural custom, every natural institution (state,judicial order, marriage, care of the sick irnd the poor), everydemandinspired by the instinct of life-in short,everythingthat eontains its value in itself is made altogethervalueless,anti-vahableby the parasitismof the priest (or the'moral world order"): now it requiresa sanctionafter the eventja oahte-conferringpower is needed to negate what is natural in it and to ueate a value by so doing. The priest devalues,desecrates nature: this is the price of hs existence.Disobedienceof God, that is, of the priest,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 598 oleeon'sin'; the meansfor of "the law,o is now called ciliation with God" are, as is meet, meanstbat merely guaranteestill more thorough submissionto the priest: the priestalone'redeems." osins"becomeindispensPJychologicallyconsidered, able in any societyorganizedby priests:they are the real handlesof power. The priest lioes on sins, it is essentialfor hinr-that people "sin." Supremeprinciple: "God forgives those who repent"-in plain language: thosewho submit to the priest. 27 On such utterly fclse soil, where everything natural, every natural value, everyreality was opposedby the instinctsof the ruling class,Christianity mosi profound -u5a form of mortal enmity against realitl tlat gtew The "holy people,"who f,as neveryet beensurpassed. had retainbd only priestly values, only priestly words for all things and who, with awe-inspiringconsistencn had distinguishedall other powerson earth from them:'unholy,' as 'wdrld,' as "sin'-this people selves as producedan ultimate formula for its instinct that was ioqical to the point of self-negation:as Christianit1'it eventhe last form of reality,the "holy people," ne-gated thJ "chosenpeople,"the Jewishreality itself. This case is of the ffrsCranl:the little rebelliousmovementwhich is baptizedwith the name of Jesusof Nazareth-rep1esents-theJewishinstinct once morc-in other words, the priestlyinstinctwhich can no lo-ngerstandthe p-riestas i reality, the inventionof a still more abstractform of existence,of a still more unreal vision of the world than is involved in the organizationof a church. Christianity negatesthe church. Tesushas been understood,or misutderstoodas the caitseof a rebellion; and I fail to seeagairst what this
THE ANTICHRIST 599 rebellionwasdirected,if itwas not the Jewishchurch"church" exactlyin the sensein which we usethe word today.It wasa rebellionagainst'thegoodand the just," against"the saintsof Israel," againstthe hierarchyof societv-not againstits corruption,but againstcaste, privilege,order,and formula;it was the ilisbelief inthe "higherman,"the No to all that waspriestor theologian. But the hierarchy which was thus questioned,even th_ooghfor just a moment, was the lake-dwelling on which alonethe Jewishpeoplecould continueto exist amid the lyxfs1'-1hs hard-won last chanceof survival, the residueof its independentpolitical existence.An attack on this was an attack on the deepestinstinct of a people,on the toughestlife-will which haseverexisted in any peopleon earth.That holy anarchistwho summoned the people at the bottom, the outcastsand ninners," the chandalaswithin Judaism, to ,opposition against the dominant order-using langua!6,-if the Gospelswere to be tmsted, which would lead to Siberia today toewas
a political crimi
criminalswere possibleat all in an community.This brought him to the iross: the proof for this is the inscriptionon the cross.He died for his guilt. }K evidence is lacking, however often it has leen claimed, that he died for the guilt of others. z8 It is a completelydifferent questionwhether any such oppositionever enteredhis consciousness-whether he was not merely experiencedby othersas representing this opposition.And it is only at this point that I touch on the problem of.the psyclnlogy of ihe Redeemer. I confessthat I read few bookswith as many difficulties as the Gospels.These diftculties are di$erent from thosewhosedemonstration hasprovidedthe schol-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 600 arly curiosity of the German spirit with one of its most unforgettable triumphs. The time is long past when I too, like every young scholar, slowly drew out the savor of the work of the incomparable Strauss, with the shrewdness of a refined philologist. I was twenty years old then: now I am too seriousfor that. What do I care about the contradictions in the "tradition"? How can one call saints'legends"traditiorf in the ffrst place?The biographies of saints are the most ambiguous kind of literature there is: to apply scientiffc methods to them, in the absence of any other documenfs, strikes me as doomed to failure from the start-mere scholarly idleness. 29 What concernsne is the psychologicaltype of the Redeemer. After all, this could be contained in the Gospels despite the Gospels, however mutilated or overloaded, with alien features: as Francis of Assisi is preserved in his legends, despite his legends. Not the truth concerning what he did, what he said, how he really died; but the question ushether his type can still be exhibited at all, whether it has been "transmitted." osoul" The attempts I know to read the history of a out of the Gospels seem to me proof of a contemptible psychological frivolity. M. Renan, that buffoon in p"ychologicis, has introduced the two most inappropriate concepts possible into his explanation of the Jesustype: the concept of genius and the concept of. the hero ('hdro{). But if anything is unevangelical it is the concept of the hero. Just the opposite of all rvrestling,'of all feeling-oneself-in-a-struggle, has here become instinct: the .incapacity for resistance becomes morality here ("resist not evif'-the most profound word of the Gospels, their key in a certain sense), blessednessin peace,
THE ANTICHRIST 601 ln gentleness, in not being ablc to be an enemy. What are the "glad tidings"? True life, etemal life, has been found-it is not promised, it is here, it is fn yoa: as a living in love, in love without subtraction and exclusion, without regard for station. Everyone is the child of God-Jesus deffnitely presumes nothing for himself alon+and as a ehild of God everyone is equal to everyone. To make a h.ero of. Jesusl And even more, what a 'genius"! misunderstanding is the word Our whole con cept, our cultural concept, of "spirit" has no meaning whateverin the world in which Jestrslives, Spoken with the precision of a physiologist, even an entirely difierent word would still be more nearly fftting herethe word ld,iot.t We know a state in which the senseof touch is patho. logically excitable and shrinks from any contact, from grasping a solid obiect. One should translate such a physiological habitus into its ultimate conseeuenc€-ar instinetive hatred of every reality, a fight into 'what cannot be grasped," "the incomprehensible," an aversion to every formula, to every concept of time and space, l The last three words were supDressedby Nietzsche's sister when she ffrst published Thb'Antichrisi in 1895, in Volume VIII of the CollectedWorlcs.They were ffrst made public by Hofmiller in rg3r, to prove thit NietzqBlemust have been insanewhen he wrote-the book. But lfuYivas,of course, thinking 'inof Dostoevski'sThe ldiot. The references to Dostoevski section gr below and in section 45 of Tailight ol the Idoh should also be noted. The word idiot" assumesa sudden signiffcancein Nietzsche'swork after his discovery of Dost6evslci:see section S of The \Vygner Case,.section 7 in Chapter z of Twilight of the fdob; sections lr, 26, SL, 42,-5r-g of TheAntiihr*t; '"Ihe section z of. Wagner Case" in Ecce Homo; sections z and 3 of.Nietzschecontra Wagnet the letters to Brandes aud Strindberg,dated Octoberio aud DecemberZ, 1888; and note 794 in The Will to Pouer.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 602 all that is solid, custom,institution, church; a being to at home in a world which is no longerin contactwith any kind of reality, a merely oinner- world, a 'trueo world, an "eternal'world. *The kingdom of God is fn gw! The hwtinctioelwueit consequence of an "fi*rW,a exhemecapacityfor sufiering and excitementwhich no longerwantsany contactat all becauseit feelseverycontact too deeply. The hstinctioe excluslonof any antipatl'ry,onyhostilitg, ang boundnriesor dioisiottsin matls feelings: the consequenceof an extreme capacity for suffering and. cxcitementwhich experiencesany resistance,even any compulsionto resist, as unendurabledispleasure(that is, as h,amnful,as somethingagainstwhich the instinct of self-preservation oarns us); and ftnds blessedness (pleasure) only in no longer offering any resistanceto anybody,neither to evil nor to him who is evil-love as the only, as the lasf possible,way of Ufe. Tlreseare the two physialogicalrealitieson which, out of which, the doctrine of redemptiongrew. I call this a sublime further developmentof hedonism on a thoroughly morbid basis.It{ost closelyrelatedto it, although with a generousadmixtureof Greekvitality and nervous energy,is Epicureanism,the pagandoctrine of redemp tion. Epicurus,a typical decadent-frrst recognizedas such by me. The fear of pain, even of inffnitely minute pairr-that can end in no other way than in a digion of looe. 31 I have already given my answerto the problem. Its presuppositionis that the Redeemerfire is preserved
THE ANTICHRIST 603 for -us-onlyin extensivedistortion.This distortion is veqy nrolfte in any case;for severalreasons,such a typl could not remainpure, whole,free from accretions.-fre must show tracesof the milieu in which he moved as a f-oreignffgure; and evenmore of the history, thefae ot the first Christian community,from which ihe type was enriched,retroactively,with featureswhich are comprehensibleonly in termsof later polemicsanil propaginda Purposes. - Th3, queer and sick world into which the Goqpels introduce us-as in a Russiannovel, a world in wliich the scum of society, nervousdisorders,and 'thildtike. idiocy seem to be having a rendezvous-must at all eventshave coarsetwilthe type: in order to be able to understandan-ythingof it, the ffrst disciples,in particw Iar, ffrst translatedinto their own crudity an existence yhic! yas whglly embeddedin symbolsand incomprehensibilities-for them the type did not erdsruntil itiad been-reshapedin better-knownforms. The prophel the Messiah,the future judge, the moral teacher,thi miracle man, John the Baptist-+ach anotherchanceto miscorrshue the type. Finally, let us not underestimatethe propriunzof all great,and especiallysectarian,veneration:'it blots out the original, often painfully strangefeaturesand idiosyncrasies of the veneratedbeingjt d,oesnot eoeftsee thenu lt is regrettable that a Dostoevskidid not live nearthis mostinterestingof all decadents-I meansomeone who would have known how to sensethe very stirring charmof such a mixture of the sublime,the sicky and the childlike. A ffnal consideration: asa type of decadence, the type might actually have been peculiarly manifold and dontradictory. Such a possibfuty can:ot be excluded altogether.Nevertheless, everythingspeaksagainsttlis:
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE SOI the tradition would have to be curiously faithDrecisely iul and'objective in this case-and we have reasonsfor supposing the opposite. Meanwhile there is a gaping colniiadic*tion betivlen the sermonizer on the mount, lake, and meadow, whose appearanceseemslike that of a Buddha on soil that is nol at all Indian, and that fanatic of aggression,that mortal enemy of theologiansand priests, wfiom Renan'smalice has gloriffed as le graul maitre en ironie.Imyself have no doubt that the generousdose of gall (and even of etprit) ffrst flowed into the type of ihe Master from the excited state of Christian ProPaganda; after all, the unscrupulousnessof all-sectarians, ihen it comes to constructing their own apologg out of' their master, is only too well known. When the ffrst community needed a judging, quarreling, angry, malignantly sophistical theologian, igai'nst theologians, it createil its 'i'od" according-to its needs-just as it put into his mouth, without iny hesitation, those wholly unevangeli'the cal concepts which now it cannot do without: return," tie'Last Judgment,- every kind of temporal expectation and promise. 32 To repeat, I am against any attempt to introduce the fanatic into the Redeemer type: the word impdrteur, which Renan uses, is alone enough to annul the type' The "slad tidings" are precisely that there are no longer anv o"pposites;Ihe kinedom of heaven belongs to the the faith whiih ftnds expressionhere is not a "titd.ii;attained through struggle-i[ is there, it has been faith there from the begiriring; iiis, as it were, an infantilism that has receded into the spiritual. The case of puberly beinq retarded and not devilopilrg in the organism' as a of degeneration, is well knorvn, at least to "onr!qrr"n"" Such- a faith is not angry, does not rephysioiogists.
THE ANTICHRIST 605 5verfl"proach, does not resist: it does not bring'the it simply does not foresee how it might one day separate. It does not prove itself either by miracle or by reward and promise, least of all %y scripture": at every moment it is its own miracle, its own reward, its own 'tingdom of God." Nor does this faith proof, its own formulate itself : it lioes, it resistsall formulas. Of course, the accidentsof environment, of language, of background determine a certain sphereof concepts: the earliest Christianity uses only Jewish-Semitic concepts (the eating and drinking at the Last Supper belong here, that concept which, like everything Jewish, has been misused so badly by the church). But one should bervare of ffnding more than a sign language in this, a semeiolog;r, an oecasion for parables. For this anti-realist, that not a word is taken literally is precisely the presupposition of being able to speak at all. Among Indians he would have availed himself of Sankhya concepts; among the Chinese, of those of Lao-tse-rvithout having felt any dilference. Using the expressionsomewhat tolerantly, one 'free spirit"-he does not care for could call Jesus a anything solid; the word kills, all that is solid kills. The 'llif.e" in the only way he concept, the exTterience of knows it, resists any kind of word, formula, law, faith, olife' or dogma. He speaks only of the innermost: 'trutn"' or "light" is his word for the innermost-all the rest, the whole of reality, the whole of nature, Ianguage itself, has for him only the value of a sign, a simile. Make no mistake at this point, however seductive the Christian, in other words, the ecclesiastical, preiudice may be: such a symbolist par excellence stands outside all religion, all cult concepts, all history, all natural science, all experience of the world, all knowledge, all politics, all psychology, all books, all art-his "knowledge" is yrure foolishrwss precisely concerning the fact
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 606 that suchthings exist.Culture is not known to him even by hearsay,he doesnot need to ffght it-he doesnot negateit. The sameappliesto the state,to the whole civic order and society,to work, to war-he neverhad any reasonto negate*the world'; the ecclesiasticalconcept of 'world" never occurredto him. To negateis the very thing that is impossiblefor him. Dialecticls equally lacking; the very idea is lacking that a faith, a 'tiuthi might be provedby reasons(hisproofsareinner'lights,' inner feelingsof pleasureand self-affirmations, ;[ of them 'proofs of strength). Sucha doctrineis alsoincapableof contradicting:it doesnot evencomprehend that tlrere are, that there canbe, other doctrines;it cannot even imagine a contradictoryjudgment. Where it encountersone, from innermostsympathyit will mourn over 'blindness";for it seesthe "light"-5r1 it will ofier rrxvuJcvuvrb no objection no objection try reirlrir rrt*.t^, 1f 15 {n.5to2 r, N tttc-*'rie ,r ;rt4vtrtal .n2rin,., lrh ^;"i;i, .,r, fl/ ig ,tph rrn.c, ,; N *.r,,
ci tl
,Xo* ,{.n^ JFfntv,}V,{en^ (hrv* o"f (l,ttv* .{' ,5r* o"l -+ iPf,r'tv,i733 *evangel' In thewholepsychology of the the concept
of guilt and punishmentis lacking; also the conceptof 'Sin"-any rewrrd. -Sin"-any distanceseparatingGod and manis abolished:preciselythis is the "glad tidings." Blessednessis not promised,it is not tied to conditions:it is the only reality-the rest is a sign with which to speakof it. The consequenceof zuch a state projectsltself into a new practice, the genuineevangelicalpractice. It is not a 'faith" that distinguishesthe Christiin: the Christian acfs, he is distinguishedby acting differentlg: by not resisting,either in words or in his heart, thosewho treat him ill; by makingno distinctionbetrveenforeigner and native, betweenJlw and not-Jew ('the neighEor' -really the coreligionist,the Jew); by not grorving angry with anybody,by not despisinganybody;by not permitting himself to be seenor involved at courts of
THE ANTICHRIST 607 law ('hot swearing"); by not divorcing his wife under any eircumstances,not even if his wife has been proved unfaithful. All of this, at bottom one principle; all of this, consequencesof one instinct. The life of the Redeemerwas nothing other than fhds practice-nor was his death anything else. He no longer required any formulas, any rites for his intercourse with God-not even prayer. He broke with the whole Jewish doctrine of repentanceand reeonciliation; he knows that it is only in the practice of lif.e that one feels "divine," 'blessed," 'evangelical," 'child at all times a of God." 'iepentance," not'prayer for forgiveness," are the Not ways to Godt only the eoangelicalTtracticeleads to God, 'God'l indeed, it ds What was disposed of with the 'sin," "for. evangel was the Judtrism of the concepts of 'redemption "faith," giveness of sin," through faith"the whole Jewish ecclesiastical doctrine was negated in 'glad tidings." the The deep instinct for how one must lioe, in order to feel oneself in heaven," to feel "eternal,' while in all other behavior one decidedly does not feel oneself "in heaverf'-this alone is the psychological reality of "redemption.' A new way of lif.e, not a new faith.
34 If I understandanything about this great symbolist, it is that he acceptedonly inner realitiesas realities, 'trs$1s"-[1at ss he understood the rest, everything natural, temporal,spatial,historical,only as signs,as for parables.The conceptof'the sonof man" occasions is not a concretepersonwho belongsin history,something individualand unique,but an "eternall'factuality, a psychologicalsymbolredeemedfrom the conceptof time. The sameappliesonce again,and in the highest sense,to the God of this typical symbolist,to the 'ting-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 808 *fflia' dom of God,- to the'kingdom of heaven,'to the tion of God." Nothing is more unchristian than tbe ecclesiastical crudities-of a god as Person, of a "kingdom of God" which is te come, of a "kingdom of heaven" beyond, of a'son of God" as the second person in the Trinity. All this is-forgive the expression-like a fist the evangel-a in the eye-oh, in whit an eyelif uorld,-histortcal cynicism in the derision of symbols. But 'ton" 'father" refer to is obviousand what the signs not to everione, I admit: the worcl "son" expressesthe transffguration of entry into lhe over-all feeling of the 'father" expresses all ihings (blessedness);the word this fee\ng itself, the feeling of eternity, the feeling of perfection. I am ashamedto recall what the church has made of this symbolism: Has it not placed "" 4PP!l: tryon story at the threshold of the Christian "faith"? And a dogma of immaculate conceptiono on top of that? But with that it has maculated concepti'on. The "kingdom of heaven" is a state of the heart-not something ihat is to come "above the earth" or "after death." The whole concept of natural death is lacking in the evangel: death is no bridge, no transition; it is lacking beciuse it belongs to a wholly difierent, merely world, useful oily insofar as it furnisheg--sign1 "pp"rJrrt of death" is no Christian concePt-an "hour,' fre'hour time, physical life and its crises do not even exist for the teacher of the "glad tidings"'The'kingdom of God" is nothing that one expects; it has no yesterday-and no day aftei tomorrow, it wilt not come in "a thousand years"-it is an experience of the heart; it is everywhere, it is nowhere.
35 This'bringerof glad tidings"died ashe had lived, as he had taught-not
to'tedeem
men' but to show
609 THE ANTICHRIST manto is his legacy practice This how one must live. kind: his behaviorbeforethe iudges,beforethe catchpoles, before the accusersand all kinds of slander and icom-his behavioron the cross.He doesnot resist,he doesnot defendhis right, he takesno stepwhich might ward ofi the worst;orrthe contrary,he proookesit. And he begs,he suffers,he lovesraith those,in those,who do him evil. Not to resist,twt to be anigry,not to hold responsible-but to resistnot eventhe evil one-to looa hirn. 36 Only we, we spirits who have becomefree, have the presuppositionsfor understandingsomethingthat ninethat integritywhich, leencenturieshavemisunderstoodr havingbecomeinstinct and passion,wageswar against the'troly lie" evenmore than againstany otherlie. Previous readerswere immeasurablyfar removedfrom our loving and cautious neutrality,'from that discipline of the spirit which alonemakespossiblethe unriddling of suchioreign,suchtenderthinls: with impudentselFshnessthey alwayswanted only their own advantage;out of the opposite of the evangel the church was constructed. If one were to look for signsthat an ironical divinity hasits fingen in the greatplay of the world, onewould questionmark ffnd no smallsupportin the tremend,ous called Christianity. Mankind lies on its kneesbeforethe oppositeof that which was the origin, the meaning,the dght of the evangel;in the conceptof "churcn"'it has pronouncedholy preciselywhat the "bringerof the glad iidingd' felt to be beneoth and behind.himself--one would look in vain {or a greater exampleot uorld-historical irong.
6T0
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
g7 Our ageis proud of its hlstoricalsense:How could it evermakeitself believethe nonsense that at the beginning of Christianitythere standsLhecrudefable otlhe miracb worker and Redeemer-and.that everything spiritual and symbolicalrepresentsonly a later development?On the contrary:the history of Christianity,beginningwith the deathon the cross,is the historyof the misunderstanding, growingcrudcrwith everystep,of an original symbolism.With everydi$usionof Christianity to still broader,still crudermassesof people,more and to which it owed more lacking in the presuppositions its birth, it became more necessaryto oulgarize, to barbarizeChristianitv:it has swalloweddoctrinesand rites of all the snbterrarwancults of the inqterium Romanumas well as the nonsenseof all kinds of diseasedreason.The destinyof Christianitylies in the necessitythat its faith had to becomeas diseased, as base and vulgar, as the needsit was meant to satisfywere diseased,base,and vulgar. In the church, ffnall,v,drseasedbarbarimtitself gainspower-the ehurch,this embodimentof mortal hostilityagainstall integrity,against all eleoationof the soul, againstall disciplineof the spirit, againstall frank and gracioushumanity.Christian values-noble values: only we, we spirits who have becomefree, have restoredthis contrastof values,the greatestthat there ist 38 At this point I do not suppressa sigh.Thereare days when I am afflicted with a feeling blacker than the blackestmelancholy-contempt of rnan.And to leaveno doubt concerningwhat I despise,whom I despise:it is the man of today, the man with whom I am fatefully
811 THE ANTICHRIST The man of today-I suffocatefrom contemporaneous. his uncleanbreath.My attitude to the past,like that of all lovers of knowledge,is one of great tolerance,that k, magrwnimousself-mastery:with gloomy caution I go through the madhouseworld of whole millennia, 'Christian faith," or whether it be called "Christianity," 'Christian church"-l am careful not to hold mankind responsiblefor its mental disorders. But my feeling changes,brealcsout, as soonas I enter moderntimes, our time. Our time knowsbetter. \4lhat was formerly just sick is today indecent=itjsiJrdeeentto be a Chrictientoday..And' hete beghs my tuused.I look around: not one word has remainedof 'truth'; we can no longer rvhat was formerly called 'truth." If standit if a priest as much asusesthe word rve have even the smallestclaim to integrity, we must know today that a theologian, a priest, a pope, not merelyis wrong in everysentencehe speaks,but lias'innocence" or that he is no longer at liberty to lie ftom 'ignorance.'The priest too knows as well as anybody *God,' any "sinner," any elsethat there is no longer any oRedeemer"-that ofree will" anil *moral world order" of the the profoundself-overcoming atelies:seriousness, spirif no longer permits anybody tnt to know about this. All the eonceptsof the church have been recognized for what they are, the most malignant counterfeitsthat exist, the aim of which is to devaluenature and natural values;the priest himselfhasbeenrecognizedfor whrrt he is, the most dangerouskind of parasite,the real poison-spiderof [fe. We know, today our conscience knows,what theseuncannyinventionsof the priestsand the church are really worth, what erds tlrcy seroedin reducingmankind to such a stateof self-violationthat its sight can arouse nausea! the concepts 'teyond,"
6T2 'Last
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
'souf Judgment,' "immortality of the soul,o and itself are instruments of torture, systems of cruelties by virtue of which the priest became master, remained mastei. Everybody knows this, attd, get eoerything conthwes as before. Where has the last feeling of decency and self-respect gone when even our statesmen, an otherwise quite unembarrassedtype of man, anti-Christians through and through in their deeds, still call themselves Christians today and attend communion?A young prince at the head of his regiments, magniffcent as an expression of the selffshnessand conceit of his people-but, usithout any sharne, confessing himself a Christianl Whom then does Christianity negate?Whaf does it call -world'? That one is a soldier, that one is a judge, that one is a patriot; that one resists; that one seesto one's honor; that one seeksone's advantage; that one is proud. Every practice of every moment, every instinct, every virluation that is translated into action is todav antiChristian: what a miscarringe of fabenessmust modern man be, tlrat he is not asltamed to be called a Christian in spite of all thist 39 I go back, I tell the genuine history of Christianity. The very word "Christianity" is a misunderstanding: in truth, there was only one Christian, and he died on the cross. The "evangel" di.ed on the cross. What has been called "evangel" from that moment was actually the opposite of that which /re had lived: "ill tidings," a dysangel. It is false to the point of nonsenseto find the mark of the Christian in a "faith," for instance, in the faith in redemption through Christ: only Christian pructice, a life such as he lioed. who died on the cross, is Christian.
THE ANTICHRIST
818
Such a life is still possible today, for certain people even necessary: genuine, original Christianity will be possible at all times. Not a faith, but a doingl above all, a not doing of. many things, another state of being. States of consciousness, any faith, considering something true, for example -every psychologist knows this-are fffth-rank matters of complete indifference compared to the value of the instincts: speaking more strictly, the whole concept of spiritual causality is false. To reduce being a Christian" Christianism, to a matter of considering something true, to a mere phenomenon of consciousness,is to negate Christianism. In fact, there haoe been no Christians at all, The "Christian," that which for the last two thousand years has been called a Christian, is merely a psychological self-misunderstanding. If one looks more closely, it was, in spite of all "faith," only the instincts that ruled in him-and what instincts! *Faith" was at all times, for example, in Luther, only a cloak, a pretext, a screen behind which the instincts played their game-a shrewd blindness about the dominance of certain instincts. "Faitn"'-I have already called it the characteristic Christian shrewdrwss
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 614 a religion which is not only dependent on errors but rvhich has its inventivenessand even its geniusonly in harmful errors,only in errorswhich poisonlife and the heart-is reallya spectacle for gods,for thosegodswho are at the sametime philosophersand rvhom f have encountered,for example,at thosefamousdialogueson Naros.The momentrutusealeaves them (cnd us!), they becomegrateful for the spectacleof the Christian: perhaps the miserablelittle star that is called earth deservesa divine glance,a divine sympathy,just because or tlis curious case. For let us not underestimatethe Christian:the Christian,falseto the point of innocence, is far above the aperegarding Christians, a wellkrrowntheory of descentbecomesa mere compliment. 40 The catastropheof the evangelwas decidedwith the death-it was attachedto the 'cross.' Only the death, this unexpected,disgracefuldeath,only the crosswhich rvasgenerallyreservedfor the rabble-only this honible paradoxconfrontedthe discipleswith the real riddle: 'Who was this?What was this? Their profoundly upset and insulted feelings,and their suspicionthat such a death might representthe refutation of their cause,the terrible question mark, 'Why in this mnnnsf"-*lis state is only too easyto understand.Ilere everything had to be necessary, had to have meaning,reason,the highest reason; a disciple'slove knou's no accident. Only now the cleft openedupt *Who killed him? lVho u'as his natural enemy?"This questionleapedforth like lightning. Answer:ruling lewry, its highestclass.From this moment one felt oneselfin rebellion againstthe existing order, and in retrospectone understoodJesus to have been in rebellion against tlrc existing orda, Until then this warlike, this No-saying,No-doing trait
THE ANTICHRIST 8T5 had beenlacking in his image; evenmore, he had been its opposite. Evidently the small community did, not understand, the main point the exemplarycharacter of this kincl of deat[ the freedom,the superiority over any feeling of ressentimenfra token of how little thev undentood him altogethert After all, Jesuscould nof intend anything with his death except to give publicly the strongestexhibition,the Ttroofof his doctrine.But his disciples were far from forgioing this death-which would h-ave been evangelicin the highestsensmr evenfrom ofiering themselvesfor a like death in gentle and lovely rep-oseof the heart. Precis"ly th" most unevangelical feeling, reoenge, came to the fore again. The matter could not possiblybe ffnishedwith this death: 'retributiorf' was needed,'iudgment" (and yet, what could possibly!e more unevangelicalthan "retribution," "punishment''titting in judgment"l). Oncemorethe popufar expectationof a Messiahcame to the foreground; a historic moment was envisaged:the "kingdom of God" comesas a judgment over his enemies. _ But in this way everything is misunderstood:the 'tingdom of God'as the lasCact,as a promisetAfter all, the evangelhad beenpreciselythe presence,the fulffllment, theleality of this"'kingdom.' iust such a death was this very "kingdom of God." Now for the ffrst time all the contemptand bittemessagainstthe Phariseesand theolo$answere carried into the type of the Masterand in this way he himself was mide into a pharisee and theologianlOn the otherhand,the frenziedveneration of thesetotally unhingedsoulsno longer endured the evangelicconc,eptionof everybody'sequal right to be a child of God, as Jesushad taught: it wai their revenge to eleute JesusextravaSantl%to sever him from themselves-piecisely as thJ 1eri,shait formerly,
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 616 out of revenge against their enemies, severed their God from themselves and elevated him. The one God and tLe one Son of God-both products of rcssentiment. 4t And from now on an absurd problem emerged: "How could God permit thisP" To this the deranged reason of the small community found an altogether horribly absurd answer: God gave his son for the remission of sins, as r sacrifice. In one strokg it was all over with the its most revolting, evangel! The tespass sauifice-in the sacrifice of the guiltless form that, barbarous at most for the sins of the guilty! What gruesome paganisml Jesushad abolished the very concept of "guilt"-he had denied any cleavage between God and man; he lioed this unity of God and man as his "glad tidings." And not as a prerogative! From now on there enters into the type of the Redeemer, step by step, the doctrine of judgment and return, the doctrine of death as a sacriffcial death, the doctrine of the resurtectian wiln' which the whole concept of "blessedness,"the whole and only actualig of the evangel, is conjured away-in favor of a state after death. Paul, with that rabbinical impudence which distinguishes him in all things, logicalized this conception, 'Il Christ ihis obscenitg of. a conception, in this way: was not resurrected from the dead, then our faith is vain." And all at once the evangel became the most contemptible of all unfulffllable promises, the impertt; nent doctrine of personal immortality. Paul himself still taught it as a reuord. 42 It is plain what was ffnished with the death on the eross: a-new, an entirely original basis for a Buddhistic
THE ANTICHRIS? 8L7 peace movement,for an actual, not mecelypromised, lwppituss on earth. For this, as I have already emphasized, remainsthe fundamental difierence between the two religionsof decadence:Buddhismdoesnot promise but fulfills; Christianitypromiseseverythingbut fulfills nothing. On the heels of the 'glad tidings" came the oery uorst: those of Paul. In Paul was embodied the oppositetype to that of the 'bringer of glad tidings": tlre geniusin hatred, in the vision of hatred, in the inexorablelogic of hatred. Hou much this dysangelist1 sacriffcedto hatredl Above all, the Redeemer:he nailed him to his oun cross.The life, the example,the doctrine, the death, the meaning and the right of the entire evangel-nothing remained once this hate-inspired counterfeiterrealized what alonehe could use.Not the reality, not the historical truthl And once more the priestly instinct of the Jew committed the samegreat crime againsthistory-he simply crossedout the yesterday of Christianity and its day before yesterday;he lnsented, his oun history of earliest Christianity. Still further he falsiffed the history of Israel once more so that it might appearas the prehistoryof hrs deed: all the prophetsspokeof hds"Redeemer."Later the church even falsiffed the history of mankind into the prehistory of Christianity. _ The Redeemert1pe, the doctrine, the practice, tle death,the meaningof the death,evenwhal cameafter the death-nothing remained untouched, nothing remained even similar to the reality. Paul simply transposed the center of gravity of that whole existencs after this existence--in the lie of the "resurrected"Jesus. At bottom, he had no use at all for the life of tne Redeemer-he needed the death on the cross dnd a little more. l "Bringerof ill tidings"(seesection 39).
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 618 To considera Paul,whosehomewasin the main seat of Stoie enlightenment,honestwhen he dressesup a hallucinationas proof that the Redeemerstill lives, or evento believehis story that he had this hallucination, would be a true niniseriefor a psychologist:Paul wanted the end, corwequentlyhe also wanted the means.What he himself did not believe, the idiots amongwhom he threw his doctrine believed. His need was for power; in Paul the priest wanted power once again-he could use only concepts,doctrines,symbols with which one tyrannizesmassesand forms herds. What was the one thing that Mohammedlater borrowed from Christianity?Paullsinvention,his meansto priestly tyranny, to herd formation: the faith in im:nortality-llr,ot iq tly daarine of ,the "iudgnent."
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When one places life's center of gravity not in life but in the "beyond"-dn nothingness-onedepriveslife of its center of gravity altogether. The great lie of personal immortality destroysall reason, everything natural in the instincts-whatever in the instincts is beneftcentand life-promotingor guaranteesa future now arousesmistrust.To Iive so, that thereis no longer the'sense"of life. anyserceinliving, thatnow becomes Why communalsense,why any further gratitude for descentand ancestors,why cooperate,trust, promote, and envisageany commonwelfare?Justasmany'temptations,oiust as manydistractionsfrom the "right path' -
THE ANTICHRIST 619 madmenmay have the conceit that the laws of nature are constantlybroken for their sakes-such an intensiftcation of every kind of selftshness into the inftnite, into the impertinenf,cannotbe brandedwith too much contempt. And yet Christianityowes its triumph to this miserableflatteryof personalvanity: it waspreciselyall the failures,all the rebellious-minded, all the less fa-' vored, the whole scum and refuse of humanity who were thus won over to it. The 'salvationof the souf'in plain language:"the world revolvesaroundnte." The poisonof the doctrineof 'equal rights for all"it was Christianitythat spreadit most fundamentally. Out of the mostsecretnooksof bad instincts,Christianity haswagedwar unto deathagainstall senseof respect and feeling of distancebetweenman and man, that is to san against the ptewpposition of. everyelevation,of every growth of culture; out of the ressentimentof the massesit forged its chief weaponagainstus, againstall that is noble, gan high-minded on earth, against our happinesson earth. "Immortalit;/' conceded to every Peter and Paul has so far been the greatest,the most malignant,attemptto assassinate noblehumanty. And let us not underestimatethe calamity which crept out of Christianityinto politics. Today nobody has the courageany longer for privileges,for masters' rights,for a senseof respectfor oneselfand one'speers -for a pathosof distance.Our politics is sick from this lack of courage. The aristocraticoutlook was underminedfrom the deepestunderworldthrough the lie of the equality of souls;and if faith in the "prerogativeof the maioritymakes and uill make revolutions-it is Christianity, beyond a doubt, it is Christianvalue iudgments,that everyrevolution simply translatesinto blood and crime.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 620 Christianity is a rebellion of everything that crawls on 4e -Sro_914 -ag3ins!that whic! lu;s lTpight:the evangel of ,$e "lowly' m*es lou,t.. tsrJ. r i pow t'( a (o.y "nolpr ^"4()
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44 the Gospelsare valuableas testimonyto the irresistible comrption within the ffrst community. What Paul later carried to its conclusion,with the logicians cynicism of a rabbi, was neverthelessnothing other than that processof decay which had begun with the death of the Redeemer. One cannot read these Gospelscautiouslyenough; every word posesdificulties. I confess-one will pardon me-that preciselyon this accountthey are a first-rate delight for a psychologist-as the oppositeof all narve corruption, as subtlety par excellence,as artistry in psychologicalcomrption.The Gospelsstandapart.The Bible in general sufiers no comparison.One is among losing the thread Jews: frst considerationto keep from 'holiness" completely. The simulation of whlch has really becomegenius here, never even approximated elsewherein books or among men, this counterfeit of words and gesturesas an art, is not the accidentof someindividual talent or other or of someexceptional character. This requires race. In Christianity all of Judaism,a several-centuryoldJewishpreparatorytraining and techniqueof the most seriouskind, attainsits ultimate mastery as the art of lying in a holy manner. The Christian, this ultima ratio of the lie, is the Jew once morrcven tlvee times more. To be determined,as a matter of principle,to apply only concepts, symbols, attitudes which have been proved by the practice of the priest; instinctively to reject every other practice, every other perspective of value and usefulness-that is not merely tradition, that
THE ANTICHRIST
is hetitage: only as heritage does it seem like nature it' seU. The whole of mankind, even the best heads of the best ages (except one, who is perhaps merely inhuman), have permitted themselves to be deceived. The Gospel has been read as a book of innocence-no small indication of the mastery here attained in hishionics. Of course, if we sarothem, even if only in passing,all these queer prigs and synthetic saints, that would be the end -and precisely because f do not read words usithotrt seeing gestures, I make an etd. of thetn. I cannot stand a certain manner they have of turning uP their eyes. Fortunately, for the great majority books are mere litera'
ture.
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One must not lgqoneselfbe led astrayi tudge nog" they say, but thdlabonsign to hell everything that standsin their way. By letting God judge, they themselvesjudge;by glorifyingGod,they glorify themselves; the virtues which they happen to be virtues of which by ilzrnatd.ing by ilzrnatd.ing the more, which they require in order to capable
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 822 concettof betngclrosenplaysmodesty:oncebnd for all one hasplacedoneself,the "community,"the "goodand the just," on one side, on the side of 'truth"-and the rest,"the world," on the other.This was the mostdisastrouskind of megalomania that hasyet existedon earth: little miscarriages of prigs and liars beganto claim for themselves the conceptsof God,truth, light, spirit, love, wisdom,life-as synonymsfor themselves,asit were, in order to deffne themselvesagainst'the world": little superlativeJews, ripe for every kind of madhouse, tumed all values around in their own image, just as if 'the Christian" alone were the meaning, the salt, the measure,also the Last ludgment, of all the rest. The whole calamitybecamepossibleonly becausea related, racially related, kind of megalomaniaalready existedin this world: the leuish one.As soonas the cleft between the Jews and the Jewish Christians opened,no choice whatever remained to the latter but to apply agahtst the ]ews themselvesthe sameproceduresof self-preservaUon that the Jewish instinct recommended,whereas hitherto the Jervshad applied them only againsteverything non-]ewish.The Christian is merely a Jew of omoreliberal" persuasion. 43 I give someexamplesof what theselittle peopleput into their heads,what they put into the mouth of their 'beautiful master: without exception, confessionsof souls": 'And whosoevershall not receiveyou, nor hear you, when ye depart thence, shakeofi the dust under your feet for a testimonyagainstthem.Verily I sayunto you, It shall be more tolerable for Sodomand Gomorrahin the day of judgment,than for that city" (Mark 6:rr). IIow eoangelicall
THE ANTICHRIST 623 'And whosoever shall ofiend one of theselittle ones that believein me, it is better for him that a millstone were hangedabouthis neck,and he were cast into the sea" (Mark g:42).How eoangelical! "And if thine eye oftend thee, pluck it out: it is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire: Where their worm dieth not, and the ffre is not quenched" (Mark $47 f,),It is not exactly the eye which is meant. 'Verily I say unto you, That there be someof them that stand here, which shall not tasteof death, till they have-seen-the hngdom of God come with powef (Mark g:r). Well li.ed,lionl 'TVhosoever will comeafter me,let him denyhimself, and take up his cross,and follow me. ForJ (Note of a psychobgisf.Christianmorality is refuted by its For'c: oreasons" its refute-thus is it Christian.) Mark 8:3.4. 'J,tdgu not, that ye be not judged. . . . With rvhat measureye mete,_itshall be measuredto you again' _(M"tt 7tt.). What a conceptionof justice and-of a 'iust" judget 'For if ye love them which love you, what reward _ have ye? do not even the publicansthe same?And if ye- salut9 your brethren only, what do ye more than others?do not eventhe publicanssoP (Matt $46t,). The principle of 'Christian love-: in the end it wants tobe paidwelT. "But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses(Matt. 6:15). Very compromisingfor said 'Father.' 'But seek ye ffrst the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all thesethings shall be addedunto you" (Matt. -6,SS). All these ihings, namely, food, clothing, all the necessitiesof life. An enor, io put it
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE a24 modesdy.Shortly before this, God apPearsas a tailor, at least in certain cases. -lRejoice ye in that day, and leap for joy: for, behold, your reward is great in heaven:for in the like mo"ner did their fathersunto the prophets" (Luke 6:23). ImWrthent rabblel They compare themselveswith the -prophets,no less. "know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man deffle the iemple of God, him shall God destroy; for the ternple of God is holy, which temple ye are" (Paul I Cor. 9:16 f.). This sort of thing one cannotdespise enough. 'Db ye not know that the saints shall judge the world? and if the world shall be iudged by you, are ye unworthy to judge the smallestmatters?" (Paul' I Cor. 6:z). Unfortunatelynot merelythe talk of a lunatic. This fuightful su:ilndlercontinuesliterally: "Know ye not that we shall judge angels?how much nore things that pertain to this lifel" 'Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world? For after that the world by its wisdom knew not God in his wisdom,it pleasedGoclby foolish preaching to makeblessedthem that believein it. . . . Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to ruin the wise; and God hath chosin the weak things of the world to ruin what is strong;And basething-sof the world, and thingswhich are despised hath God chosen,yea, and what is nothing, to bring to nought what is something: That no flesh should glory in his presence" (Paul, I Cor. a ftrst-ratedocutzzoff.).t To undentandthis passage, r Nietzsche Quotes Luther's translation' and some de' partures frou tle King lames Bible were found necessary
l
THE ANTICHRIST A*' ment-for-Fu ply.holggy of every chandala morality, one should rcad the ffrst inquiqy in my GeneatogVbf Morab: there the contrast between a rcbb morality and a chandala morality, born of rcssentlment and impotent vengefulness,was brought to light for the ffrst time. Paul was the greatestof all apostlesof vengeance. 46 What fotlnwc from thk? That one does well to put on gloveswhen reading the New Testament.The proximity of so much uncleanlinessalmost forces one to do this. We would no more choosethe 'first Christianso to associatewith than Polish Jews-not that one even required any objectionto them: they both do not smell good. I have lookeil in vain through the New Testamentto descryeven a single synpathetic feature: tlere is nothing in it that is free, gracious,candid, honest.Humanenessdid not even make its ffrst beginninqshere-the instincts of, clcanlinessare lacking. ih"te it" only bait instincts in the New Testament, and not even the oourag€to have tliese bad instincts. Everything in it is cowardice, everything is shutting-one's-eyes and selfdeception.Every bookbecomescleaniust after one has read the New Testament: to give an example,it was with utter delight that, right-after paul, I read that most graceful, most prankish mocker Petronius, of whom one might say what Domenico Boccacciowrote to the Drke of Parma about CesareBorqia: C tutto lasfo-immortally healthy, immortally cheerTuland well tumed out For these little prigs miscalculateprecisely where it matters most. They attack, but everything they attack in,this quotationbecause someof its phrasesare echoed, in $bsequentsections.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 826 is distinguished thercby. To be attacked by a "ffrst Christian' is not to be soiled.On the contrary:it is an honor to be opposedby "ffrst Christians.-Oni doesnot read the New Testamentwithout a predilection for that rvhieh is maltreatedin it-not t6 speakof the wisdom of this world," which an impudent rvindmaker tries in vain to ruin with "foolish preaching." But even the Pharisees and scribesderivaan advantagefrom suchopposition:they must have beenworth somethingto havebeenhated in so indecenta manner. Hypocrisy-what a reproachin the mouths of "ffrst Christians't In the end, they were men of.Tnioilege: that is enough-chandala hatred requires trb furtf,er grounds.The "ffrst Christian'-I am afraid, the "last Christian" too, and.I rnay yet lioe to see him-is, flun his lowestinstincts,a rebelagainsteverythingprivileged: he lives, he ffghts always for "equal rights."-Examined more closely, he has no choice. If one wants to be 'chosen by God"-or a 'temple of God" or a 'judge of the angels"-then any other principle of selection-for example,accordingto integrity,spirit, virility and pride, beauty and freedomof the heart-is merely "u'orld,eoil in itself. \[oral: every word in the mouth of a 'ffrst Christian"is a lie; every act he performsa falsenessof instinct-all his values,all his goalsare harmful; but whomeoerhe hates,uhateoerhe lwtes,that has oalue. The Christian,the priestly Christianin particuIar, is a criterionof oalue. Need I add that in the whole New Testamentthere is only e single ffgure who commandsrespect?Pilate, the Roman governor.To take a Jewish afrair seriouslg -he does not persuadehimself to do that. One lew more or less-what doesit matter?The noble scornof a Roman,confrontedwith an impudent abuseof the word'truth," hasenrichedthe New Testamentwith the
THE ANTICHRIST 82:I only salng that has oahrc
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 628 they against whom he wages war. Indeed, one cannot be a philologist or physician without at the same time being an anti-Christian For as a philologist one sees behind the "lroly books"; as a physician, behind the physiological depravity of the typical Christian. The 'twindle." 'incurable"; the philologist, physician says 48 Has the famous story that stands at the beginning of the Bible really been understood? the story of Godt hellish fear of science?It has not been understood. This priestly book par excellence begins, as is fitting, with the great inner difficulty of the priest: he knows only one great danger, consequently "God" knows only one great danger. The old God, all "spirit," all high priest, all pen fection, takes a stroll in his garden; but he is bored. Against boredom even gods struggle in vain. What does he do? He invents man-man is entertaining. But lo and beholdl Man too is bored. God's compassionwith the sole distress that distinguishes all paradises knows no limits: soon he creates other animals as well. God's frsf mistake: man did not ffnd the animals entertaining; 'hnihe ruled over them, he did not even want to be mal." Consequently God created woman. And indeed, that was the end of boredom-but of other things toot Woman was God's second mistake. "Woman is by na'Trom priest knows that; ture a snake, Heve" l+ver/ rvoman comes all calamity in the world"-every priest knows &at, too. "Consequently, it is from her too that l Althoueh Nietzsche seemsto have in mind a welllnown etimoloev of the Hebrew "Hawah"' ('Eva" in Cerman),'not oi6 of the Hebrewwords for snakeresembles this name. Genesis3:zo links the name with life, and the only other versein which it ffguresis Genesis4:r.
TIIE ANTICHRIST 629 sclence comes.' Only from woman did man learn to taste of the tree of knowledge. What had happened?The old God was seizedwith hellish fear. Man himself had turned out to be his greatestmistake;he had createda rival for himself; sciencemakesgodlike-it is all over with priestsand gods when man becomesscientific.Moral: scienceis the forbidden as suctr-it alone is forbidden. Science is_the frsl sin, the seedof all sin, the miginal sin. Thi.s alone is moral@.'fhou shalt not ftne$r"-1[s rest fotlorvs. God's hellish fear did not prevent him from being clever. Horv does one resist siience?This becamehil main problemfor a long time. Answer:out of paradise wjth man! Happiness,idleness,give rise to ideas-all ideas are bad ideas. Man slull not think. And the 'priest-as-sucitinventsdistress,death,the mortal danger of pregnancy,every kind of misery, old age, trouble, and, above all, .sdcltness-allmeins in the ffght againstscience.Distressdoesnot permit man to think. And yet-honiblel-the ediffceof knowledge.begins to suggestingtwilight to thJgods. lgy"r, heaven-sto_rming, What is to be done?The old God invents wai, he divides the peoples,he fixes it so men will annihil'ate each other -(priestshave alwaysrequired wars). War -amoxg other things a great disrupterof sciencetIncredible!Knowledge,the emancipationfron the pfiest, continues to grow in spite of wars. And the old God makesa ftnal decision:'Man has becomescieniiffctlwre is no other usay,he Imsto be droroned,.-
r havebeen.rnd"rrtood.4?h"b"ginnirrgof the Biblo containslhe uhole psychologyof the priJst. The priest Jcnows only one greatdanger:that is sciencgthe sound
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 630 conceptionof causeand efiect. But on the whole science prospersonly under h"ppy circumstances-there rnust 'knowledge" be a sarplus of time, of spirit, to make 'Consequently, possible. man must be madeunhappy" -this rvasthe logic of the priest in every age. It will now be clear what was introduced into the world for the ffrst time, in accordancewith this logic: ',rin."'Ihe conceptof guilt and punishment,the whole -moral world order,' was invented against science, againstthe emancipationof man from the priest. Man shall not look outside,he shall look into himself; he shnll rct look into things cleverly and cautiously, like a learner, he shall not look at all-he shall sufer. And he shall sufier in such a way that he has need of the priest at all times. Away with physicianslA Saoiorls needed.The concept of guilt and punishmenl includ'redemption," of "foring the doctrine of "grace,' of giveness'-lies through and through, and without any psychologicalreality-were invented to destroy man's cause causalsense:they are an attemPtto assassinate with the and efiect.And not an attemptto assassinate ffst, with the knife, with honlsty in hatred and lovet But born of the most cowardly, most cunning, lowest instincts. A priestly attemptl L parasitds attemptl A bloodsuckersl vampirismof pale, subterranean of a deed are no When the natural consequences onatural,' but thought of as caus_ed by the conlonger 'C'9!," by.'spirits," ceptualspectersof superstition,by by'souls," asif theyweremerely'moral" conselluences' ai reward,punishment,hint, meansoI education,then of knowledgehas been destroyedthe presupposition thei the- freatest uirne agairct humanlty has been committed, Sin, to repeat it once more, this form of man's self-violation pir excellence' was invented to make science,culturg every elevation and nobility of
THE ANTICHRIST 681 man, impossible;the priestrules through the invention of sin. 5o At this point I do not let myself off without a psychology of "faith," of "believers"-precisely for the benefitof'believers,'as is fftting. If today there is no Iack of peOplewho do not know in what way it is lndecent to "believe"---or a sign of deeadence,of broken will to life-tomorrow they will alreadyknow it. My voice reacheseven the hard of hearing. UnlessI have heard wrong, it seemsthat among Christiansthere is a kind of criterion of truth that is called the "proof of strength.""Faith makesblessed: heneeit is true.' Here one might object ffrst that it is preciselythe making blessedwhich is not proved but merely promised:blessedness tied to the conditionof 'faith"-one slrall becomeblessedbecauseone believes. But whether what the priest promisesthe believer in fact occursin,a "beyond"which is not subjectto any test-how is that proved? The alleged 'proof of strength" is thus at bottom merely another faith, namely,that the efiect one expectsfrom faith will not fail to appear.In a formula: "I believethat faith makes blessed;consequentlyit is true.' But with this we are alreadyat the end. This "consequently"would be absurdity itself as the criterionof truth. But let us suppose,with someleniency,that it was proved that faith makesblessed(not merely desired, not merelypromisedby the somewhatsuspicious mouth of a priest): would blessedness-
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 832 sion of the question "ltVhat is true?" The proof of "pleasure" is a proof of "pleasure"-nothing else: how in all the world could it be established that true judgments should give greater delight than false ones and, according to a pre-established harmony, should necessarilybe followed by agreeable feelings? The experience of all severe, of all profoundly inclined, spirits teaches the opposite. At every step one has to wrestle for truth; one has had to surrender for it almost everything to which the heart, to which our Iove, our trust in life, cling otherwise. That requires greatness of soul: the service of truth is the hardest service. What does it mean, after all, to have integrity in matters of the spirit? That one is severeagainst one's heart, that one despises "beautiful sentiments," that one makes of everv Yes and No a matter of conscience. Faith makes blessld, consequently it lies. 51 That faith makes blessedunder certain circumstances, that blessednessdoes not make of a ffxed idea a true idea, that faith moves no mountaius but pufs mountains where there are none-a quick walk through a madhouse enlightens one sufficiently about this. Not, to be sure, a priest: for he denies instinctively that sickness is sickness,that madhouse is madhouse. Christianity needs sicknessjust as Greek culture needs a superabundance of health-to make sick is the true, secret pulpose of the whole system of redemptive procedures constructed by the church. And the church itself-is it not the catholic madhouse as the ultimate ideal? The earth altogether as a madhouse? The religious man, as the church wants him, is a typical decadent; the moment rvhen a religious crisis overcomes a people is invariably marked by epidemics
THE ANTICHRIST 693 of the nerves;the "inner world" of the religiousman looks exactlylike the 'inner world" of the overexcited and the exhausted;the 'highest" statesthat Christianity has hung over mankind as the value of all values are epileptoidforms-only madmenor great impostors have beenpronouncedholy by the chuich in maiorem de-ihonorem.I once permittedmyselfto designatethe yhgb- Christian-repintance and' reclemptiontraining (whichtodayis besistudiedin England)^as a methodil cally pr-oducedfolie circalabe, ai is proper, on soil pre-parecl fo-rit, that is to say, thorouglilymorbid soil. Nobody is free to becomea Christianione is not ..converted' to Christirrnity-one has to be sick enoughfor it. We otherswho have the courageto be healthy and, also to despise-how may we desf,isea religion which taughtmen to misunderstand the 6odvl whiJh doesnot want to get rid of superstitiousbelief in souls!which turns insufficientnourishmentinto something..meritorious"l wliich SghtsJrealth as a kind of enEmy,devil, temptationtwhich fanciesthat one can carry arounda "perfectsoul" in a cadaverof a body,and lJhich therenecessary to concocta new coneeptionof lore joya.it 'perfection"-a pale, sickly, idiotic-enthusiasticcharacter,so-called'troliness." Holiness-merely a seriesof s/lptoy of an impoverished,unnerved,incurablycor-
ruPted -mb'ver,,"rrr, r, htuy,rgrfl.r;.61p!9d1. ln The Christian'
as a..truropearnmovement, has been from the start a collective riovement of the dross and refuse elements of every kind (these want to
q"yt throughChrisrianity).It doesno, express F:l the decline of
a race, it is an aggregateof forms of decadencefocking together ,JJki,r"geachother out "na 1Io* g*ry*here. It is not, as is suppoled,the comrption of antiquity itself, of nable aiiquity, that made
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Ctuistianity possible.The scholarly idiocy which up holds such ideas even today cannot be contradicted harshly enough.At the very time when the sick, cornrpt chandali strata in the wbole-iarpedum adopted Cf,ristianity, the opposite type, nobility, was present in its most beautiful and most mature form. The great nunrberbecamemaster;the democratismof the ChrisChristianitywas not'national," tian instinctstriumphed. 'a not a function of race-it turned to every kind of man who was disinheritedby life, it had its allies every' where. At the bottom of Christianity is the rancor of the sick, instinct directedagainstthe healthn against health itself. Everything that has tumed out well, everythinq that is proud and prankish, beauty above Once more I recall the all, iu*s-its ears ind eyes.'The roeck things of the Paul: of words inestimable world, the foolish things of the wgrl{, the base and dpssiseilthinqs of the world hath God chosen'"l This triumphed' wal th" formila; in hoc sdgnodecadence thoughts secret horrible the God on the uosvate suffers, yet? All.1|at understood not symbol this behind utt ttr"t is naileil to the cross,is diaine' All of us are to the cross,consequentlyue are divine' We t "l"a divine. Christianity wis a victory, a nobler uio"" "t" perished of it-Chris-tianity has been the greatoutlook of est misf&tune mankind so far. 52 Christianity also standsopposeclto- every qp"'Lryt hasturnedout well; it canuie-only sickreasonas Christian reason,it sideswith everythingidiotic,.it utte$ a the spirit, against the supetbla of the "g"intt ""it" is of the essenceof healthv"spirit. Beca-use'sicfness -Cf"itti"t 'faith," must statg Christian ity, the typicat rsee the lastquotationin secUon 45'
THE ANTICHRIST
alsobe a form of sickness,and all straigh! honest,scientiffc paths to knowledgemust be rejectedby the churcb as forbiddenpaths.Even doubt is a sin The completelack of psychologicalcleanlinessin the priest-betrayed by his eyes-is a consequenceof decadence:one should observehystericalfemalesand children with a tendency to rickets to see how regularly instinctive falseness,the inclination to lie in order to lie, and the incapacity for straight glancesand steps are the elpression of decadence:'Faith" means not uanting to know what is true. The pietist, the priest of both sexes,is false because he is sick: his instinct demandsthat truth not be coneded its right at any point. *Whatevermakessick is good;_whatevercomesout of fullness,out of superabundance,out of power, is eojl"-thus feels the-believen Harsing no 6hoice but to lie-from that I can s:e 1t a glance-if-a m9n is a predestinedtheologian. sign_of the theologian is his incapacity for {gtl,"t phiblogy, What is here meant by philology is,-in a yery broad sen-se,the art of reading well-if reading facts without falsifying them by inteqpretation,with: out-losing caution,patience,delicacy,in the desireto understand. Philology as ephexis in interpretationwhether it is a matter of books,the news in . paper, -the destinies,or weather conditions,not to speakof *salvation of the soul." The manner in wf,ich a theo logilo in Berlin as in Rome,inteqpretsa overseof Scripture" or an event-for example,a victory of the armiis 9f thu fatherland, in the higher light of the psalmsof Dlvid-is- always so audaciousthat a philologist can only tear his hair. And what is he to do wheripieUsts and othercowsfrom Swabia,with the aid of the?'ffnger of God," transformthe wretched everydayand the p"arlor smokeof their existenceinto a miracle of igrfce,'
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 836 of "providence,' of "experiences of salvation'? Even the most modest expenditure of spirit, not to sPeak of decengy,would sufice to bring these interpreters to the point of convincing themselves of the utter childishness and unworthiness of-such an abuse of the dexterity of the divine ffngers. Possessingeven the tiniest bit of piety in the body, we should find a god who cures a colil at the right time or who bids us enter a coach at the very moment when a violent rainstorm begins, such an absurd gocl that we should have to abolish him if he existed. A god as servant, as mailman, as calendar ma&-at bottom, a word for the most stupid of all accidents. "Divine providence" of the kind in which ap; proximately every thiril person in "educated Germany" itilt believ'es*o,tld be in oblection to God so shong that one simply could not imagine a stronger one. And, in any case,it'is an objection to the Germansl
\\at
53 martytsprove anythingaboqt the truth of a
matter is so lar from true that I would deny that any to do with truth' martvr 'tot ever had anything whatsoever e with which a irartyr throws his consideringThe something-true into the face of the world expressessuch a low delgree of intellectual integrity, such an obtuseness for tlte question of truth, that one neve-r needs to refute a martir. Truth is not something which one Person might have and. another not have: -only peasants and o"or"ni apostles like Luther can think that way about LttU. O"6 may be sure that modesty,mod'eration int\is matter, beco.ries greater in proportion to the degree of conscientiousness in matter] of tte spirit' To have knouled.ge of ffve matters, and to refuse with a gende hand to iave other knowledge. 'Truth," as the word is uiderstood by every prophet,
THE ANTICHRIST
637
€very sectarian, every free spirit, every socialist, every churchman, is a perfect proof that not even a beginning has been made with that discipline of the spirit, that self-overcoming which is needed if any small, however small, truth is to be found. The deaths of the martyrs, incidentally, have been a great misfortune in history: they seduced.The inference of all idiots, woman and the people included, that there must be something to a cause for which someone goes to his death (or which even, like early Christianity, generates death-seekingepidemics)-this inference has immeasurably thwarted examination, the spirit of examination, and caution. The marbrrs haveharmed,truth. Even today it takes only the crudity of a persecution to give an otherwise completely indifferent sectarianism an honorable name. How? Does it change the value of a thing if someone gives his life for it? An error that becomeshonorable is an error which is that much more seductive. Do you believe, my dear theologians, that we would give you an occasion to become martyrs for your lie? One refutes a matter by lalng it respectfully on ice-that is how one also refutes theologians. This precisely was the world-historical stupidity of all persecutors, that they gave the opposing cause the appearance of being honorable-that they gave it the fascination of martyrdom as a gift. Even today woman lies on her knees before an error because she has been told that somebody died on the cross for it. Is the crossan argument? But about all these things, only one man has said the word which was needed for thousands of year*Zaratlustra: They wrote signs of blood on the way they walked, and their folly taught that urith blood one proved truth. But blood is the worst witnessof truth; blood poisonseveu the purest doctrine and turns it into delusion and batsed of the
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 838 heart And if a man goesthrough Sre for his doctrine-what does that prove? Veriln it is more lf your own doctrinc comesout of your own 8re.1
34 One should not be deceived: great spirits are skep tics. Zarathustrais a skeptic. Strength, freedotn whtch is bom of the strength and overshengthof the spirit, proves itself by skepticism.Men of conviction are not rvorthy of the least considerationin fundamentalquestions of value and Such men do not look far beneaththemselves:but to be permitted to join in the discussionof value and disvalue,one must seeffve hundred convictionsbeneathoneself-behind oneself. A spirit who wants great things, who also wants the meansto them, is necessarilya skeptic. Freedom.from all kinds of convictions,to be able to seefreely, is part of strength.Greatpassion,the ground and the power of his existence,even more enlightened,even more despotie tharr he is himself, employshis whole intellect; it makeshim unhesitating;it gives him courageeven for unholy meatrs;under certain circumstancesit does not begrudgehim convictions.Convictionas a mear*..many things are attainedonly by meansof a conviction.Great passionusesand usesup convictions,it doesnot suG' cumb to thern-it knows itself sovereign. Convenely: the need for faith, for somekind of unconditional Yes and No, this Car$ism, if one will forgive me this word, is a need born of aeaL,ness.The 'believer" man of faith, the of everykind, is necessarily a dependentmah
THE ANTICHRIST 639 be a means,le must be asedap, he requiressomebody to use him up. His instinct gives the highesthonor to a morality of self-abnegation;everythingpersuadeshim in this direction:his prudence,his experience,his vankind of faith is itself an of selfnecessarymost people ftnd somethingregulatory,which will bind them from rvithout and tie them down; how compulsion,slaoeryin a higher sense,is the sole and ultimate conditionunder which the more weak-willedhuman being, woman in particular, can prosper-then one will also understand conviction,'faith." The man of convictionhashis backbone in it. Nof to seemany things, to be impa*ial at no point,,to be party through and through,to have a strict and necessaryperspective in all questions of value-this alone makes it possible for this kind of human being to exist at all. But with this they are the opposite,the antagonists,of what is truthful-of tmth. The believer is not free to have any conscienceat all for questionsof otrueoand'untrue': to have integlry on this point would at once destroy him. The pathologicalcondition of his perspectivetums the convinced into fanatics-Savonaroli, Luther, Rousseau, Robespierre,Saint-Simon:the opposition-typeof the strongspirit_whohasbecomeftee. Yet the giand pose of these oc& spirits, these epileptics of thi concept, makesan impressionon the greatmass!the fanaticsare p-icturesclue;mankind prefers to see gesturesrather than to hear reasons. 55 Olu further step in the psychologyof conviction, of -. ofaith." Long ago I posed-the problem whether convictions are not more dangerousthan lies as enemiesof
THE PORTADLENIETZSCHE 640 truth (Iluman, Nl-Too-Human I, aphorisms54 and +89). Now I shouldlike to ask the decisivequestion: Is there any contrastat all betweena lie and a conviction? All the world believesthere is; but what doesall the world not believel Every convictionhasits history, its preliminary forms, its trials and errors: it becomesa conviction after not having been one for a long time, and after scarcely having been one for an even longertime. How? Could not the lie be amongtheseembryonicforms of conviction? Sometimesa mere changeof personsuffices:in the sort that becomesconviction which in the father still was a lie. By lie I mean:wishing nat to seesomethingthat one doessee;wishing not to seesomethingas one seesit Whether the lie takes place before witnessesor without witnessesdoesnot matter. The most commonlie is that with which one lies to oneself;lying to others is, relatively, an exception. Now this wishing-nof-to-seewhat one does see,this wishing-not-to-seea.eone sees,is almost the first condition for all who arc party in any sense:of necessity, the party man becomesa liar. Germanhistoriography, for example,is convincedthat Romerepresenteddespotism and that the Germanictribes brought the spirit of freedominto the world. What is the difierencebetween this convictionand a lie? Ir{ay one still be surprised when all parties, as well as the German hisiorians,instinctivelyemploythe big words of morality, that moralityalmostcontinuesto existbecausethe party man of every descriptionneedsit at every moment? *This is our coniction: we confessit before all the world, we live and die for it. Respectfor all who have eonvictionsl" I have heard that sort of thing even out of the mouths of anti-Semites.On the contrary, gentle-
THE ANTICHRIST 641 ment An anti-Semiteoertainly is not any more decent becausehe lies as a matter of principle. The priestsare much more delicatein such matters anil they understandvery well the objection which lies in the conceptof a conviction,namely,a mendaciousnesswhich is a matter of principle becauseit servesan -. -lend; so they have acceptedthe clever procedureof the to introduceat this point the conceptof "God,"5 Jews 'will of God," "revelation of God." Kant too, with his - -i categoricalimperative,was on the samepath: in this l5 respect,his reasonbecamepractical. There are ques-.r' n tiois in which man is not entitled to a decisionaboutS& <$ truth and untruth; all the highest questions,all the highest value problems, lie beyond human reason.To {-.i comprehendthe limits of reason-that alone is truly$ ;r philosophy. What did God give man revelation for?.., p Man is \_ l1 Would God have done somethingsuperfluous? not capableof knowing by himself what is good and " evil, therefore God taught him his will. Moral: ttre _l-Q priest doesrct lie; the questionof "trud' and "untrud' "i ^ doesnot erist in the mattersabout which priests speak; p these matters do not allow one to lie at all. For, to be i f; able to lie, one would have to be capableof deciding - i* ushatis true here. But of this man is not capable;thus .l '+3.-. the priest is merely the mouthpieceof God. Sucha priestly syllogismis by no meansmerely lew- $:, ish and Christian; the right to lie and the shrewdners$--1 of ievelation' belong to the priestly type, to the de- .' _ cadent priests as well as to ihe piieslJ of paganism F (pagansare all thoseu'ho say Yes to life, for whom F' "god" is the word for the great Yes to all things). The A 'law," the "will of God," the'holy book," tnspiration" = all mere words for the conditions und.er which I\e priest attainspower, oith which the priest preserveshis power; these concepb are found at the basis of all
THE PORT.{BLENIETZSCHE 642 ptigrf organizations,of all forms of priestly or philosophic-priestlyrule. The 'troly lieo-common to Confucius, the law of Manu, Mohammed,the Christian churclr-is not absent in Plato. 'Truth is therd': this means,whereverit is announced,the priest lies. 56 Ultimately, it is a matter of the end to which one lies. That 'troly' ends are lacking in Christianity is my otjection to its means.Only bad,ends:poisoning,slander, negation of life, contempt for the body, the degradation and self-violationof man through the concept of sin--ronsequentlyits meanstoo are bad. It is with an oppositefeeling that I read the law of Manu, an incomparablyspiritual and superiorwork: even to mention it in the samebreath with the Bible would be a sin againstthe spirit. One guesses immediately:there is a real philosophy behind it, in it, not merely an illsmellingJudainerof rabbinismand superstition;it ofiers even the most spoiledpsychologistsomethingto ehew on, Not to forget the main point, the basic difference from every kind of Bible: here the noble classes,the philosophersand the warriors, stand above the mass; noble values ever;nvhere,a feeling of perfection, an afirmation of life, a kiumphant delight in oneselfand in life-the sun shines on the whole book. .All the things on which Christianity vents its unfathomable meanness-procreation, for example,woman,marriage -are here treated seriousln with respect, with love and trust. Really, how can one put a book in the handsof children and women which containsthat vile dictum: "to avoid fomication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband.. . . It is rJudaisurconceived asa poison.Seeoote,p. SZo.
648 THE ANTICHRIST better to marry than to burn"? 1 And how can one be a Christian as long as the notion of the lmtnaculatacon' ceptio chistianiies, that is, dirties, the origin of man? I know no other book in which so many tenderand gracious things are said to woman as in the law of M"n,t; thoseold greybeardsand saintshave a way of being courteousto women which has perhaps never "The mouth sf 4 wemnn"-;t is writ' been surpassed. bosomof a girl, the prayer of a in place-'the ten one Anare atways alwayspure. " 4.nthe sacritice, sacriftce,are smokeot of the the smoke child, the child, other passage:-'There is nothing purer than the light of
the sun, thi shadowof a cow,-the air, water, ftre, and, the breath of a girl." A ffnal passage-perhapsalso a 'All aperturesof the body above the navel holy lie: ars pure, all below are impure. Only in the girl is the whole body pure.' 57 One catches the unholinessof the Christian means ln flagranti if one once measuresthe Chnstian end againstthe end.of the law of Manu-if one throws a shong light on this greatestcontrastof ends.The critic of Christianity cannot be spared the task of making Christianity look conternptible. Sucha law asthat of Manu originateslke every good prudence,and codeof laws: it sumsup the experience, experimentalmorality of many centuries;it concludes: it lreates nothing further. The presuppositionfor a codificationof this sort is the insight that the meansof ensuring authority f.or a truth, which has been won slonly and at considerableexpense,are utterly different from the meansneededto proveit. A codeof lawsnever relates the advantage,the reasons,the casuistry,in the tl Cor.7zz,g
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 6,44 prehistoryof a law:'if it did, it would lose the imperative tone, the "thou shalg" the presuppositionfor being obeyed.This is preciselywhere the problem lies. At a certainpoint in the developmentof a people, the most circumspectstratum, that is, the one which seesfarthestback and ahead,declaresthe experience accordingto which one shouldlive-that is, can liveto be concluded.Their aim is to bring home as rich and completea harvestas possiblefrom the times of experiment and bad, experience.Consequently,what must now be prevented above all is further experimentation,a continuationof the fuid state of values, testing,choosing,criticizingvaluesfn infiniturn.Against this a doublewall is put up: one,reuelition, the claim that the reasonin theselaws is not of human origin, not soughtand found slowlyand after manyerrors,but of divine origin, and hence whole, perfect, without history, a gift, a miracle,merely communicated.Then, tradition, the claim that the law has existedsincetime immemorialand that it would be irreverent,a crime agairut one'sforefathers,to raiseany doubt againstit 'The authorityof the law is foundedon the theses:God garn it, the forefatherslioed it. The higher reasonin such a procedurelies in the aim, step by step to push back from what had beenrecognizedas ,consciousness the right life (that is, prorsedright by a tremendous and rigorouslyffltered experience),so as to attain the perfect automatismof instinct-that presuppositionof all mastery,of everykind of perfectionin the art of life. To set up a code of laws after the man-nerof Manu meansto give a people the chancehenceforthto become master,to becomeperfect-to aspire to the highest art of filjfe.To that end, it must be made untot sclorrsrthis is the aim of everyholy lie. The order of castes,the supreme,the dominant law,
THE ANTICHRIST
u5
is merely the sanctionof,a natural order, a nafural lawno fulnessof the ffrst rank, over which no arbitrariness, "modernidea" has any power. In everyhealthy society there are three types which condition each other and gravitate difierently physiologically;each has its own hygiene,its own fteld of work, its own senseof perfection and mastery.Nature, not Manu, distinguishes the pre-eminentlyspiritual ones, those who are preand those, eminentlystrongin muscleand temperament, the third type, who excelneither in one respectnor in the other, the mediocreones-the last as the great majority, the ffrst as the elite. The highest casta-I call them the fewest-being perfecl also has the privilegesof the fewest: among them, to representhappiness,beauty,and graciousness on earth. Only to the most spiritual human beingsis beauty permitted: among them alone is graciousness not weakness.Pulchrum est paucorumhomirwm: the goodis a privilege.On the other hand, there is nothing that they may be concededless than ugly mannersor a pessimisticglance, an eye that makes ugly
646
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
that doesnot precludetheir beingthe mostcheerfuland the kindliest.They rule not becausethey want to but becausethey are; they are not free to be second. The secord,:they are the guardiansof the law, those who seeto order and security,the noblewarriors,and above all the king as the highest formula of warrior, iudge, and upholder of the law. The secondare the executivearm of the mostspiritual,that which is closest to them and belongsto them, that which doesevery' thing grossin the work of ruling for them-their retinue, their right hand, their bestpupils. In all this, to repeat,thereis nothing arbitrary,nothing contrived;whateveris different is contrived
THE ANTICHRIST U7 makesintelligentmachinesof them. For the mediocre, \ to be mediocreis their happiness;masteryof one thing, specialization-a natural instinct. It would be eompletelyunworthyof a moreprofound spirit to considermediocrity as such an obiection.In fact, it is the very frst necessityif there'are to be excepUons: a high culturedependson it. When the exceptionalhuman being treats the mediocremore tenderly than himselfand his peers,this is not merepolitenessof the heart-it is simply his duty. Whom do I hate most amongthe rabble of today? The socialistrabble,the chandalaapostles,who undirmine the instinct, the pleasure,the worker'ssenseof satisfactionwith his small existence-who make him envious,who teach him revenge.The sourceof wrong is neverunequalrights but the claim of *equal' righu. What is bad?But I havesaid this already:all thit is
i
bom orweakness, orJll!,'X'ro ::;:;;:^it"?liiff# and the Christian have the same origin.
58 Indeed, it makes a difierence to what end one lies: whether one preseryes or destrogs. One may posit a pertect equation between Christian and anarchisf; their aim, their instinct, are directed only toward destruction. The proof of this proposition can easily be read in history: it is written there in awful clarity. If we have just become acquainted with a religious iegislation whose aim it was to 'eternalize" the highest condition of lifet pros-pering,a great organization of society-Christianity found its mission in putting an end to precisely such an orga-nizationbecaus6life frospered ii lt. There the gains of reason, after a long period of experiments and uncerta-inty,were to be invested for the greatest longterm advantage and the harvest to be broight home i's
t
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHT 648 great, as ample, as complete as possible;here, converselnthe harvestwaspoisonedovernight.That rvhich stood there aerc perennius,the imperium Rornamtm, the most magniffcentform of organizationunder difrcult circumstanceswhich has yet been achieved,in comparisonwith which all beforeand all afterwardare mere botch, patchwork, and dilettantism-these holy to anarchistsmadeit a matterof "piety" for themselves destroy"the world," that is, the imperium Romanum, until not one stoneremainedon the other, until even Teutonsand other louts could becomemastersover it. both The Christianand the anarchist:both decadents, incapableof havingany efiectotherthan disintegrating, poisoning,withering,bloodsucking;both the instinct of mortal hatredagainsteverythingthat stands,that stands in greatness,that has duration,that promiseslife a future. Christianity was the vampire of the irnperium Romanum: ovemight it undid the tremendousdeed of the Romans-who had won the ground for a great culturethat uould,haoetime. Is it not understoodyet? The inpedum Romanum which we know, which the history of the Romanprovincesteachesus to know better and better,this mostadmirable work of art in the gand style was a beginning; its constructionwas designedto prove itself through thousandsof yearsruntil today nobodyhas built again like this, nobodyhasevendreamedof building in such proportions sub specieaeterni. This organizationwas Brm enoughto withstand bad emperors:the accidentof personsmay not have anything to do with such matters -first principle of all grand architecture.But it was not ftrm enoughagainstthe mostconuptkind of corruption, the Christians. against This stealthy vermin which sneakedup to every single one in thenight, in fog and ambiguity,and sucked
THE ANTICHRIST 649 out of each single one the seriousnessfor true things and any instinct for rca[ities-this cowardln efieminate, and saccharinepack alienated "souls" step by step from that.tremendous structute-those valuable, those virile' noble natures who found their own cause, their own seriousness,their own pride in the cause of Rome. The sneakinessof prigs, the conventicle secrecy,gloomy concepts like hell, like sacrifice of the guiltless, like unio mystica in drinking blood; above all, the slowly fanned that is what ffre of revenge, of chandala reveng*all became master over Rome, the same kind of religion against which, in its pre-existent form, Epicurus already had waged war. One should read Lucretius to comprehend iha Epicurus fought: not paganism but "C[ristianity," by which I mean the corruption of souls by the concepts of guilt, punishment, and immortality. He fought the subterranean cv'rcswhich were exactly like a latent form of Christianity: to deny immortality was then nothing less than a real saloation. And Epicurus would have won; every respectable spirit in the Roman Empire was an Epicurean. Then the chandala hatred against Paul appeared-Paul, Rome, against "the world," become flesh,becomegenius, the Jew, the eternal Wandering Jew par excellence. What he guessed was how one could use ttre little sectarian Christian movement apart from Judaism to 'world ffrd'; how with the symbol of "God on kindle a the cross" one could unite all who lay at the bottom, all who were secretly rebellious, the whole inheritance of anarchistic agitation in the Empire, into a tremendous power. "salvation is of the Jews." Christianity as a iormula with which to outbid the subterranean cults of all kinds, those of Osiris, of the Great Mother, of Mithras, for example-ond to unite them: in this insight lies the genius of Paul. His instinct was so sure in this that
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 650 he took the ideas with which these chandala religions fascinated, and, with ruthless violence, he put them into the mouth of the'Savior" whom he had invented, and not only into his mouth-he made something out of him that a priest of Mithras too could understand. This was his moment at Damascus: he comprehended that he needeil the belief in immortality to deprive *the world" of value, that the concept of 'telf' would be'bevond" come master even over Rom*that with the o:re lcdlls lila. Nihilism and Christianism: that .hy*es, that does not only rhyme. 59 The whole labor of the ancient world fn oain: lhave no word to expressmy feelings about something so tremendous. And considering that its labor was a preIiminary labor, that only the foundation for the labors of thousands of years had just then been laid with granite self-confidence-the whole meaning of the ancient world in vainl Wherefore Creeks? Wherefore Romans? AIl the presuppositions for a scholarly culture, all scientiftc methods, were already there; the great, the incomparable art of reading well had already been established-that presupposition for the tradition of culture, for the unity of science;nafural science,allied with mathematics and mechanics,rvas well along on the best way-the sense for facts, the last and most valuable of all the senses,had its schools and its tradition of centuries. Is this understood? Everything essentinl had. been found, so that the work could be begun: the methods, one must say it ten times, are what is essential, also what is most difficult, also what is for the longest time opposed by habits and laziness. What we today have again conquered with immeasurable self-mastery
THE ANTICHRIST
-for each of us still has the bad instincts, the Christian ones,in his systenr-the free eye before reality, the cautioushand, patience and seriousness in the smallest matters,the whole lntegrity in knowledge-that had alreadybeenthere oncebeforelMore thin two thousand yearsago!And in addition,the good,the delicatesense of tact and taste.Nof as brain drill! Nof as oGerman' educationwith loutish mannerslBut asbody, as gesture, as instinct-as reality, in short Nl i4 Win! Overnight ^r, nothing but a memoryl \Lo- Unt\!. v* kr;rr*f Greeksl RomanslThe nobility of instirict, the taste, the methodicalresearch,the geniusof organizationand administration,the faith in, the ofll to,-mans future, the great Yes to all things, becomevisible in the imperlum Romanum,visible for all the senses,the grand style no longer mere art but becomereality, truth; fd4 And not buried ovemight by a natural catastrophe, not trampled down by Teutonsand other bufialoes,but ruined by cunn-ing,stealthy,invisible, anemicvampires. Not vanquished-merely drained. Hidden vengefulness, petty envy becomemaster. Everything miserablethat suffersfrom itself, thsf fu effiisfsd with bad feelings,the whole ghetto-worldof the soul on top all at once. One needonly read any Christianagitator, St. AugusUne, tor example, to comprehend,to .srnall,what an unclean lot had thus come to the top. One would deceiv-eoneselfutterly if one presupposedany lack of intelligenceamongthe leadersof the Christianmovement: oh, they are clever, clever to the point of boliness,thesegoodchurchfatherslWhat they-lackis somelhing quite difierent.Nature has neglect'edthem-she forgot to -give them a modestdowry-of respectable, of decent,of.cleaninstincts.Amongouiselves,ihey are not even men. Islam is a thousandtimes right in despising Christianity: Islam presupposesrnen,
452
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 60
Ctristianity has cheated us out of the harvest of ancient culture; later it cheated us again, out of the harvest of the culture of Islam. The wonderful world of the Moorish culture of Spain, really more closely related to us, more congenial to our sensesand tastes ttran Romeand Greece,wastrampleddown (I do not say by what kind of feet). Why? Becauseit owed its origin to noble, to rnala insHncts,becauseit said Yesto life even with the rare and refined luxuries of Moorish life. Later the crusadersfought somethingbefore which they might more properly haveprostratedthemselvesin the dust-a culture comparedto which even our nineteenth century might well feel very poor, very "late." To be sure,they wantedloot; the Orient was rich. One should not be so prejudiced. Crusades-higher piracy, nothing elsel The German nobility, Viking nobility at bottom, was in its proper element here: the church knew only too well what it takes to get the German nobility. The German nobility, always the "Swiss Guards' of the church, always in the servicc of all the bad instincts of the church-but well paid. That the church should have used German swords, German blood ancl courage,to wage its war unto death against everything noble on earthl There are many painful questionsat this poinL The German nobility is almost rnissingin the history of higher culture: one guesses the reason-Christianity, alcohol, the two great means of comrption Really there should not be any choicebetweenfsbm and Christianity, any more than betweenan fuab and a !ew. The decisionis given; nobody is free to make any further choice. Either one is a chandala, or one
THE ANTICHRIST 653 'h not, o\ffar to the knife against Romet Peace and friendship with Islam"-thus felt, thusacted,,that great free spiri! the genius among German emperors,Frederick II. How? Must a Germanffrst be a genius,a free spirit, to have decentfeelings?I do not understandhow a Germancould everhave Christian feelings. 6r Here it becomesnecessaryto touch on a memory which is even a hundredtimes more painful for Geimans. The Germanshave cheated Europe out of the last great cultural harvest which Europe could still have brought hom+that of the Renaiscarce.Does one understandat lasd does one want to understand, what the Renaissancewas? The reoaluation of Cfuis. tian oalues,the attempt, undertakenwitli every means, wi$ everyinstincEwith all genius,to bring the countervalues, the noble valuesto victory. So far there has been only thii one great war, so far there has been no more decisiveq,testion than that of the Renaissanc*my questionis iis question-nor has there ever been a more fundamental,a straighter form ot attackin which the whole front was led m6re strictly against the center. Attacking in the decisiveplace, in the very-seat of Christianity, placing the nabie values o_nthe throne here, I mean, bringing them right into the instincts, into the lowest neediaJd desires6f those who sat therel I envisa_ge a possibility of a perfectly supraterrestrial ma$c and fascinationof color: it seemsto me that it glistensin all the tremorsof subtle beauty, that an art is at work in it, so divine, so devilishly divine that one searches millenniain vain for a secondsuchpossibility; I.enyrs_age a spectacleso ingenious,sb wonderfully paradoxical at the sametime, that all the deitieson Oiirpus
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 66.I would have had occasionfor immortal laughter: Cesarc Boryia as pope. Am I understood?Well then, that would have beenthe victory which aloneI cravetoday: with that, Christianity would have been abolisheil. What happened?A German monk, Luther, came to Rome. This monk, with all the vengeful instincts of a sbipwreckedpriest in his system,was outragedin Rome the Renaissance.Instead of understanding, with the most profound gratitude, the tremendousevent that had happenedhere, the overcomingof Christianity fu its verv his hatreil de' gnly Luther saw ihe corraption df the papacy when precisely the opposite\pasmore than obvious: the old cornrption, the peccahtmoriginale, Christianity no longer sat on the papal throne. But lifel But the triumph of lifel But the great Yes to all high, beautiful" audacious thingsl And Luther restoredthe church: he attackedit. the RenaissancFan event without meaning,a great ln oain. Oh, these Germans,what they have cost us alreadyl In vain-that has alwaysbeen the doing of the Germans.The Reformation,Leibnia Kant and so-called Germanphilosophn the Wars of 1'Liberation,"the Reich -+ach time an in rzainfor somethingthat had already been attained, for somethingirrevocable. Ihey are my enemies,I confessib theseGermans:I despisein them-everykind of conceptualand valuational uncleanliness,of cowarillce before every honest Yes and No. For almost a thousand years they have messedup and confusedeverything they touched with their ffngers; they have on their conscienceeveqything balf-hearted-three-eighths-heartedl-
THE ANTICHRIST 655 uncteauhnd of Christianity that there is, the most incurable,the most inefutable: Protestantism.If we do not get rid of Christianity, it will be the fault of the Germans. 6z With this I am at the end and I pronouncemy judgment. I condnmnChristianity. I raiJe againstthe Chritian church the most tenible of all accusationsthat any accuserever uttered. It is to me the highest of all corr ceivablecomrptions.It has had the will to the last cornrption that is even possible.The Christianchurchhas left nothing untouchedby its comrption;it has turned 9veryvalueinto a1 un-value,everytruth into a lie, every integrity into a vilenessof the soul.Let anyonedare tb speakto me of its 'humanitarian' blessings!To abolish aly distre_ssran counter to its deepesti'dvantages:it lived on distress,it^c@ - Th9 ryorm of sin, for example:with this dishessthe church ffrst enrichedmankind. The %qualitv of souls before God," this falsehood,this pretexi fo, [h" ran"or of all the base-minded,this explosiveof a concept which evenhLrally becamerevolution,modernidea, aid the principle of declineof the whole order of societvi2. !\tstry _dynamite."Humanitarian' blessings'of Christianityl To breed out of humanitasa self-c6ntradiction, an art of self-violation,a will to Iie at any price, a repugnance,a contemptfor all good and honestinstinctstThoseare someof the blessingsof Christianityt Parasitismas the onh7practiceof the church;with ils ideal of anemia,of "lioliiness,"draining all blood, all love, all for life; the beyondas th6 will to negate lope elery reality; the crossas the mark of recognition-for the most subterraneanconspiracythat ever"existed-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 656 against health, beauty, whatever has hrrned out well' gradousnesoof the soul, againstUfe "3rr"g",-tplnt, Itself, Thit etbrnalindictment of Christianity I will write on At-watts, wherever there are walls-I have letters to- make even the blind see. i call Christianity the one great curse,the one great irmermostcomrption, the one great instinct ot revenge' for which oo me-ansis poisonous,stealthy' subterranean' cal^it the one immortal blemish of -trii-"*"Shj mankind. "'1;;;t"" ls reckoned from the dies nefastus wirh began-after-tle frst^aiy of Chds' calamity tlttt *h;il U""iwf Wha nat iathei ofter its last ilay? After toilag? Reviuatioriof all valuesl
ECCE HOMO
05?
FNOM
EcceHomo H O W O N EB E C O M EW S H A T O N EI S rprron's Notg No sooner had Nietzsche finished The Anttchd$ than he wrote the preface to Twilight of the lilols-in fact, on the same day. Then, instead of going to work on the second book of the Rersaluation,tentatively entitled "The Free Spirit: A Critique of Philosophyas a Nihilistic Movemento he wrote Ecce Homo, an incomparably sarcasticreview of his life and works, including sections on all of his bools, except Th-e_Antichrist,which he now thought of holding back until Ecce Hono had prepared the public for it. Ecce Homo consists of four chapters: '\ilhy I Am So '\Mhy Wisej' I Am So Clever,' "W-hy I Write'Such Good Dooks," and '\Mhy,I Am a Destiny.o Of the following selections,the ffrst tb'ree are from sections r, g, and.7, td spectiveln of the ffrst chapter; the bit on Heine is from section 4 of the second chapter; and the epigram on immortality is from tte discussionoL Zarathustro in the third chapter. The ffnal sentenceis from the third section of the last chapter. ?!i€ The perfect lightness and levity, even exuberance of the spirif which The Daun reflects, are quite compatible in my case not only with the deepest physiological weakness, but even with excessive-pain. Amid the tortures _that go with an uninterrupteil three-day migralne and agonizing phlegm-wretching, I possessed a-dialectici,ans 9la1g par excellence, and very coldbloodedly thought through matters for which, in-health-
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 658 ier states,I am not enoughof a climber, not subtle, not cold enough.Perhapsmy readersknow in what way I consider dialecticsa symptom of decadence; for example,in the mostfamouscaseof all: in the case of Socrates. All sickly disturbancesof the intellecb even that half-dazedstate\Mhichfollows a fever, are to this day completestrangersto me, and to instruct myself conceming their natureand frequencyI have had to turn to scholars.My blood circulatesslowly. Nobody has ever found me feverish.A physicianwho treated me as a nervouscasefor a while said in the end, 'Nol It is not a matter of your nerves;it is I who am nervousl Any local degenerationis altogetherindemonstrable; nor is thereany organiediseaseof the stomach,though, as a consequence of over-allexhaustion,the gastricsystem is as weak as possible.N{y eye trouble too, which at timescomesdangerouslycloseto blindness,is only a oonsequence,not a cause;thus my vision has always improvedagainwith everygain in vitality. A long, all-too-longseriesof yearssigniffesmy convalescence; unfortunately,it alsosigniffesrelapse,ruin, and the periodicrhythm of a kind of decadence. Need I say after all this that I am experiencedin questionsof decadence?I have spelledthem forward and backward. Even that ffligreeart of claspingand graspingin general, thoseffngersfor nuances,that psychologywhich knowshow to look aroundcorners,and whateverelseis characteristic of me,werelearnedonly then,arethe real gift of that time in which everythingin me became moredelicate:observationitself aswell asall the organs of observation.To seehealthierconceptsand valuesin to look down the perspectiveof the sick,and conversely, out of the abundanceand self-assurance of a rich life to beholdthe secretdoingsof the instinct of decadence
ECCEHOMO 659 -in this I have had the longest training, my most characteristicexperience:here, if anywhere,I became a master.Now this gift is mine, now I have the gift of the ffrst reasonwhy it is perhaps rcoersingperspectioes: for me alone that a "revaluation of values" is at all possibletodal'. 3.;€ ft seemsto me that even the bluntest word, the bluntest letter is still more good'natured,still more honest,than silence.Thosewho rernainsilent are almost alwayslacking in delicacyand politenessof the heart. Silenceis an objection,and swallowingthings down necessarilymakes for a bad character-it even upsets the digesHon.All who remain silent are dyspeptic. Clearly, I would not have bluntnessunderestimated: it is by far the mosthumaneform of contradictionand, amid modernpampering,one of our foremostvirtues. When one is rich enoughfor this, it is even good fortune to be wrong. Were a god to come down upon earth, he should do nothing but wrong: to take upon oneselfgrrilt and not punishment,that alonewould be eodlike. :.:3.:
My practice of war may be summarizedin four propositions.First: I attack only causeswhich are victorious-and at times I wait until they are victorious. Second:I attack only causesagainstwhich I cannot expectto ffnd allies,againstwhich I shall standalone -against which I shall compromisemyself alone. I have never taken a step in public which was not compromising: that is rny criterion of doing what is right Third: I never attack persons;I only avail myself of the person as of a strong magnifying glasswith which
660
THE PORTABLE NTETZSCHE
one can render visible a general but creepingcalamity which it is otherwisehard to get hold of. Thus I attacked David Strauss--{r more precisely, the ovccess of a decrepitbook amongGerman"educatedpeople"here I caught theseeducatedpeople in the act. Thus I attackedWagner-or, more precisely,the falsity, the half-wittednessof instinct in our "culture,"which mistakes the subtle for the abundant,and the latecomers for the great.Fourth: I attackonly causesin which any personaldifierenceis out of the question,and in which any backgroundof unwholesome experiences is lacking. On the contrary,to attack is with me a proof of good will, and sometimesof gratitude. 3'::f Heinri.ch Heine gave me the highest conception of the lyric poet. I seekin vain in all the realmsof thoumusic. sandsof yearsfor an equallysweetandpassionate that divine sarcasmwithout which I canHe possessed not conceivethe perfect.I estimatethe value of human beings,of races,accordingto the necessitywith which they cannotunderstandthe god apart from the satyr. And how Heine handlesthe GermanlanguagetIt will be said one day that he and I have,beenby far the ftrst artistsof the Germanlanguage-at an incalculable distancefrom everythingthat mere Germanshave done with it. 3.r.3 One must pay deally for immortality: one hasto die several times while still alive. 3.::.3 The whole of history is the refutation by experimgnt of the principle of the so-called"moral world order."
NIETZSCHE GONTRAWAGNER OUT OF THE FITES OF A PSYCHOTOGIST
,
CONTENTS
The locations of the original versions of the various sectioos ot Nietzsche contra Wigner are given in parentheses.
Where I Admire (C.ayScierce,87\ Where I Offer Objections (Cag Science, 968l Wagner as a Danger t (Human, All-Too-Human,u, r34) z (The Wandererand Hb Shadow,r:65l A Musicwithout a Future (Human, AII-Too-Human,a, lrTtl We Antipodes (Gay Science,g7o) Where Wagner Belongs (Begond Good and Eoil,254, zg6) Wagner as the Apostle of Chastity t (Begonil Gooil and Eoil, zg6l z (Genealogyof lrlorals,t4 zl g (Genealogyof Morcls, nr, gl How I Broke Away from Wagner t (Human, AII-Too-Human, u, Prefacc, g) z (Human, All-Too-Humar, u, Preface,4) The PsychologistSpeaksUp t (Beyond Gooil ard Eoil, z69) z (Begonil Good and, Eoil, z$g) g (Begond Gaoil and Eoil, zTol 661
664 66q 666
662 669 6zt 6zg
6zs 6zz
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE 862 Epilogue t (Gay Science,Preface,g) t (Gag Science,Preface,4)
680
PNEFACE
All of the following chaptershave been selected,not without caution,from my older writings-some go back all the way to t877-perhaps clarified here and there, aboveall, shortened.Readone after another,they will leave no doubt either about RichardWagneror about myself: we are antipodes.Other thingstoo will become clear;for example,that this is an essayfor psychologists, but not for C,ermans. I havemy readerseverywhere,in Vienna, in St. Petersburg,in Copenhagenand Stockholm, in Paris, in New York-I do not have them in Europe'sshallows,Germany. And perhapsI could whispersomethingto my gooil Italianswhomllooe asmuchasI-.1 Quousguetand,em, Crbpi?t Triple alliance:with the Reichan intelligent peoplecanenter onlya mdsalliance. FnrBpnrcn Nrelzscrs Turiu Christmcs1888
WHERE
I ADMIRE
I believe that artists often do not know what they can do best: they are too vain. They are intent on something prouder than these small plants seem to be which grow on their soil, new, strange and beautiful, in real perfection. What is ultimately good in their orvn garden and I Niebzsche refrainsfrom completinqthe sentence,having Ieft no doubt about his meanini: "ha-tethe Germans.' t'How far, for heaven'ssakeT"Crispi was Italian prinre minister.
NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER 663 vineyard they esteemlightly, and their love and insight ar.enot equal. There is a musicianwho, more than any other musician,is a masterat ffnding the tonesin the realmof sufiering,depressed, and torturedsouls,at giving languageev-e1to mute misery.Nonecan equal[im in the colorsof late fall, ie the indescribablymoving Jrappinessof th-elas! truly last, truly shorteit joy; hE knows a soundfor thosequiet, disquiiting midnights of the soul,wherecauseandefiect se-em to 6" out Jf ioirrt and where_at any m-omentsomethingmight originate -out of nothing.' He drawsmosthappilyof-all out"ofthe profoundestdepth of humanhappin-sj,and, as it were, out of its drained goblet, where the bitterest and most r-epulsivedrops havefinally and evilly run togetherwith the sweetest. He knowsthat wearinessof the soulwhich drags itself, unable to leap or fy any more, even to walk; he mastersthe shy glancebf concealedpain, of understandingwithout comfort,of the farewellivithout confession-indeed,as the Olpheusof all secretmisery he _is-greater than any; and-some things have been addedto the realmof art by him alone,th-inssthat had hitherto seemed-inexpressible and evenunwj*hy of art -the cynrcalrebellion,for examplg of whiah oniy those are capablewho sufier most bitt-erly;also somevery minute and microscopicaspectsof tle soul, as it were the scalesof its amphibiannature:indeed,he is the master of the very minute. But he does not uant to be thatl His character prefers large walls and audacious frescoes. It escapes him that his spirit has a difierenttasteand inclinatiorr-the oppositepbrspectioe-and prefersto sit gul"_tlyin the nooksof collapsedhouses:thire, hidden, hidd_enfrom himself, he -often paints his real masteqpieces, ali wli.ctr ay vlV short, only one beat long
J)'.,t
t- ^/ r.' L( (4i 0y tVj fl<.
) k,RT, i k,e,,
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE M DerhaDsthere alone.Wagner is one who has sufiered heeplv-that is his distin;tion aboveother musicians'I Wagner whereverhe puts himself into music' "aoiii" 'wrrEnEr oFFERoBJECTToNS llhis doesnot meanthat I considerthis musichealthy -least of all preciselywhere it speaksof Wagner' My obiectionsto ihe musie of Wagner are physiological ob:ections,whv should I trouble to dressthem up in aeitheticformulas?After all, aestheticsis nothingbut a kind of applied phYsiologY. 'Tadt," iy 'petlt 14y lait orai, is that I no longer *h". this musicbeg]nsto affectme; that br""ihu soon resentsit and rebels: my foot feels the mv foot""riiy nJ"d fot rhythm, dance,march-to Wagnet's"Kaiserm"rs"h" noieventhe young GermanKaiseJgouldmarch -ii d"*".tds of music ffrst of all thosedelightswhich are found in gooilwalking, striding,dancing'But does protestto'o?my heart?my circulation? not my stoma"ch etu J"t my entails saddened?Do I not suddenly -b*;; hoitse? To listen to Wagner I need pastilles G6randel. I ask myself: What is it that my whole body ;;tt; of music?For t{rere is no soul' I believe' ,"oilu "*p""t i^", ^rif all animalfunctionsshouldbe quiekil;;; rhythrn-s;as ened bv easy,bold, exuberant,self-assured golden' tlroySh gravity its lose should Ulr""1t"a.jt [fe to wants mela-ncholy My melodies. oil'smooth tendei, that perfection: of and abysses t"rii"'tfr" frrding-places -is whv I need t"'*i". But Wagner makessick' iltii"iir ttt" theater to me?fuhat, the conwlsions of 'moral" ecstasieswhich give the people-and who his what, the whole gesl:e ir -h;;T;,it "oi;puopt"'?-satisfactionl of the actor?It is plain that I am essentially
NIETZSCHECONTRA WAGNER
665
anti-theatrical: confronted with the theater, this mass art par excellence,I feel that profound scorn at the bot tom of my soul which every artist today feels. Success in the theater-with that one drops in my respect forever; failure-l prick up my ears and begin to respect. But Wagner was the other way around; besides the Wagner who made the loneliest music in existence,he was essentially also a man of the theater and an actor, the most enthusiastic mimomaniac, perhaps, who ever existed, eoen ut a musician. And, incidentally, if it was Wagner's theory that'the drama is the end, the music is always a mere means," his practice was always, from beginning to end, "the pose is the end; the drama, also the music, is alwaysmerelyits means." Music as a mearur to clarify, strengthen, and lend inward dimension to the dramatic gesture and the actort appeal to the sensesand the Wagnerian drama, a mere occasion for many interesting posest Besides all other instincts, he had the commanding instincts of a great actor in absolutely everything-and, as already mentioned, also as a musician. Once tl-rere was a Wagnerian pur sang to whom I made this clear, not without trouble-clarity and Wagnerian! Not another word is needed. There were reasons then for adding: "Do be a little more honest with yourselfl After all, we are not in Bayreuth. In Bayreuth one is honest only in the mass; as an individual one lies, one lies to oneself. One leavesoneself at home when one goes to Bayreuth; one renouncesthe right to one's own tongue and choice, to one's taste, even to one's courage as one has it and exercisesit between one's own four walls against both God and wodd. No one brings along the ffnest sensesof his art to the theater, Ieast of all the artist who works for the theater-solitude is lacking; whatever is perfect sufiers no witnesses. In the theater
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 666 onebecomespeople,herd female,pharisee,voting cattle, patron, idiot-IVagnerian: eventhe most personalco* scienceis vanquishedby the leveling magic of the great number;the neighborreigns,onebecomes a mereneighbor." '.WACNER
AS A DANGER 1
The intention pursuedby recent music with what is now vigoroustn but not at all clearly, called "infinite rnelodn" can be clarified by an illustration. One walks into the sea, graduallylosesonet securefooting, and fnally surrendersoneselfto the elementswithout reserrration:onemust srairn.In older music,what one had to do in the dainty, or solemn,or ffery back and forth, quicker and slower, was something quite differen! namely, to dance. The measurerequired for this, the maintenanceof certain equally balancedunits of time and force, demandedcontinual uarhwssof the listener's soul-and on the counterplayof this cooler breezethat camefrom warinessand the rvarm breath of enthusiasm rested the magic of all gooil music. Richard Wagner wanted a different kind of movement;he overthrewthe physiological presuppositionof previous music. Swimrning, floating-no longerwalking and dancing. Perhapsthe decisivepoint has now beenstated.The 'inffnite melody" seeksdeliberatelyto breakall evenness of time and force and even scornsit occasionally;tle wealth of its invention lies preciselyin that which to an older ear soundslike a rhythmic paradoxand blasphemy. the imitation or dominationof such a taste would result in a dangerto musicwhich cannotbe exaggerated: the comirletedegenerationof rhythmic feeling, chaosin place of rhythm. This danger reachesits clmax when
NIETZSCHECONTRAWAGNER AgI on a more and more wholly heavily such music leans naturalistic style of acting and gestures,which is no longer dominated by any law of plasticity and wants effect, nothing more. Evpressiwat any price, and music in the servicg the slavery,of poses-thaf *t the end2
What? Should it really be the supremevirtue of a performance,as the virtuosos of musical performance now seemto believe, that one must under all circumstancesachieveanhautreliefwhich is simplyunsulpassable?Is not this, when appliedto Mozart,for examplg the true sin againstthe spirit of Mozart-the cheerful" enthusiastic,tender,enamoredspirit of Mozart,who was is a gracious, h"pptly no Germanand whoseseriousness a golden, seriousnessand.rwt the seriousness o[ a Cersran philistine? Not to speak of the seriousnessof the oStoneGuest."1 But apparently you think all music is like the music of the LStone Gic.fri<.Il music must leap out of the wall and shakethe listener to his very lntestines. Only then you consider music 'effective." Butonwhon are sucheffectsachieved?On thosewhom a twble artist shouldneverimpress:on the mass,on the immahrrg on tbe blas6, on the sick, on ttre idiots, on Wagneriarc! A MUSIC
WTTHOUT
A f,UTURE
Music makesits appearanceas the last plant among all the arts which grow on the soil of a particular culture-perhaps becauseit is the most inward and hence arrives last in the fall, when the culture which belongs to it is fading. Only in the art of the Dutch masters did the soul of the Christian Middle Agesattain its la6t rlt
Don CioloannL
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 068 vibrations: their tone architeeture is the posthumoug but legibnate and equal sister of the Gothie. Only in Handel's music did there resoundwhat was best in the souls of Luther and those related to him, the Jewishheroic trait that gave the Reformationa trait of greatness-the Old Tebtamentbecomemusic,nof the.New. Only Mozart transformedthe ageof Louis XIV and the art of Racineand ClaudeLorrain into ringing gold; only in the music of Beethovenand Rossinidid the eighteenthcentury sing itself out-the century of enthusiasm, of broken ideals, and of evanesc,ent happiness.All true, all original music,is a swan song. Perhapsour latest music too, however dominant and domineeringit is, has but a short span of time aheadof it: for it developedout of a culture whosesoil is rapidly sinking-a culture which will soon have sunk out of sight. A certain catholicismof feeling anil a delight in someoldindigenous,so-called"nationalosenseand nonsenseare its presuppositions.Wagner'sappropriation of old sagasand songs,which scholarlyprejudice had held up as something Teutonic par excellenc*today we laugh at that-his reanimation of those Scandinavian monsterswith a thirst for ecstatic sensuality and desensuaUzation-thiswbole give-and-takeof Wagnerconceming materials,ffgures,passions,and nervesclearly expressesthe spirit of his musictoo, supposingthat this, like any music, could not speakof itseU exceptambiguously: for musicis a uoflwn. We must not allow ourselvesto be deceived about tLis state of afiairs simply becauseat the moment we hupp"o to live in a period of reaction usithin reaction. The age of national wars, of ultramontanemartyrdom, this whole entr'actecharacterof the current situation in Europe may indeed help such an art as Wagnet's to a
NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER 669 sudden glory, without thereby guaranteeingit a future. The Germansthemselveshave no future. .wE
ANTIPODES
It may perhapsbe recalled,at leastamongmy friends, that at first I approachedthe modern world with a few errorsand overestimations, in any cage,full of.hopes.I understood-who knows on the basisof what personal experiences?-the philosophic pessimismof tle nineteenth century as a symptom of a greater strength of thought, of a more triumphant fullnessof life, than had found expression in the philosophyof Hume, Kant, and Hegel: I tooktragic insight for the most beautiful luxury of our culfure, for its most precious,noblest,most dangerouskind of squandering-but nevertheless, in view of its excessive wealth,asa permissiblehtxury, Similarln I interpreted Wagner's music as an expressionof a Dionysianpower of the soul; I believedI heard in it the earthquakewithwhich a primordialforceof life, dammed up from time immemorial,ffnally ventsitself,indifierent to the possibility that everything that calls itself culture today might start tottering. It is plain what I misunderstood in, equally plain what I read into, Wagner and Schopenhauer-myself. Every art every philosophn may be considereda remedyand aid in the serviceof either growing or declining life: it alwayspresupposes sufieringand sufferers,But thereare two kindsof suffererslffrst,thosewho sufrerfrom the ooerfullnessof life and want a Dionysian art as well as a tragic insight and outlook on life-and then thosewho sufier from the impooerishment of hf,e and demand of art and philosophy,calm, stillness, smoothseas,or, on the other hand, f.renzy,convulsion,
THE PORTABLENINTZSCHE trIO and anesthesia.Revenge against life itself-the most voluptuous kind of frenry for those so impoverishedl Wagnerrespondsto this dual need of the latter no less than Schopenhauer:they negate life, they slander it, hencethey aremy antipodes.He that is richestin the
land. Conversely,thosewho suffer most and are would needmildness, peacefulness,and goodnes most-what is today called humaneness-inthoughtaswell asin deed,and,if possible, a god who would be truly a god for the sick, a healer and'savior"l also logic, the conceptualunderstandability of existenceeven for idiots-the typical ofree spirits," like the "idealists" and "beautiful souls," are all decadents-in short, a certain warrn, fear-repulsing narrownessand enclosurewithin optimistic horizons which permit hebetation.. Thus I graduallylearnedto understandEpicurus,the oppositeof a DionysianGreek;alsothe Christian,who is, in fact, only a kind of Epicurean,and, with his "faith makes blessed,"follows the principle of hedonism as far as possibl*far beyondany intellectual integrity. ff there is anything in which I am aheadof all psychologists, it is that my eye is sharperfor that most dificult and captiouskind of backuard inferencein which the most mistakesare made: the backrvardinferencefrom tle rvork to the maker,from the deed to the doer, from the ideal to him who needsit, from every way of thinking and valuing to the uant behind it that prompts it.
NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER AN Regardingartists of all kinds, I now avail myself of this main distinction:is it the lwtreil againstlife or the excess of, Iife which has here become creative? fn Goethe, for example, the excessbecame creative; in Flaube*, hatred: Flaubert+ new edition of Pascal, but as an artist with the instinctive judgment deep '?larrbert down: est touiours haissable,Thonme iest r'ten,toeuore est tout," r He tortured himselfwhen he wrote, just asPascaltortured himselfwhen he thought; they were both unegoistic."Selfessness'-theprinciple of decadence,the will to the end, in art as well as in morals. \VIIERE
WACNER
BELONGS
Even now Franceis still the seatof the mostspirihral and reffnedculture in Europe and the foremosfschool of taste:but one mustknow whereto ffnd this "France of taste." The Nordd,eutscheZeitune for example,or whoeverusesthis newspaperasa mouthpieee,considers the French "barbarians";I, for my own part, Iook for the Dark Continent,where the 'slaves" ought to be freed, in the vicinity of the North Germans.' Whoeverbelongsto that Francekeepshimself rvell concealed:it may be a small numberin whom it lives and continues,and at tha! perhapshumanbeingswho are not amongthe sturdiest:partly fatalists,somberand sick, partly pamperedand artiftcial,such as have the ambition to be artiffcial-but they possesseverything high and delicatethat is still left in this world. in thii France-ofthe spirit, which is also the Franceof pessimism, Schopenhauer is even now more at home-than he hasever beenin Germany;his main work has abearJy r "Flaubertis alwayshateful;the manls nothlng, the work is all."
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 672 been translated twice, the secondtime excellently, so that I nowprefer to read Schopenhauerin French (he was an accidentamongGermans,as I am such an accident; the Germanshave-nofingersfor us, they haveno ffngersaltogether,they have only paws). Not to speak of Heinrich Hein*tad,orable Heine, they say in Paris -who haslong becomepart of the very fleshand blood of the moreprofound and soulful lyrical poetsin France. How could Germanoxenbe anythingbut dumfounded by the ddlicatessesof such a naturel As regardsRichard Wagner,ffnally, it is soplain that one could graspit with the hands,though perhapsnot with ffsts,that Parisis the real soilfor Wagner:the more French music developsaccordingto the needsof the dme mod.ente,the more it will Wagnerize-in fact, that is what it is doing even now. We must not let ourselves be leil astray about this by Wagner himself: it was real badnessin Wagnerto mock Parisin its agonyin 187r. In Germany,Wagneris neverthelessmerely a misunderstanding:who could be more incapableof understanding Wagner than, for example,the young Kaiser? It remainsa certainfact for anyonefamiliarwith European cultural movementsthat French romanticismand Rich' ard Wagnerbelongtogethermost closely.All dominated by lteriture right into their eyes and ears-the ffrst artists in Europe to have an educationin amld' litetature-in most cases,themselveswriters, poets, mediators, and mixers of the sensesand the arts; all fanatics ol expression,great discoverersin the realm of the sublime, alsoof the ugly and the horrible, still greater discoverersin the sphereof effectsand spectaculardisplays, in the art of display windows; all talents far beyond their genius-oirtuosos through and through, with un' cannfaccess to everythingthat seduces,lures, forces, overthrows, born enemiesof logic and of the straight
NIETZSCHECONTRA WAGNER 673 line, covetous of the strange, the exoHc, the tremendous, and all opiates of the senses and the understanding. On the whole, an audaciously daring, magniffcently violent, high-soaring, and high-sweeping type of artist, they alone have taught their century-it is the century of the moss-the concept of the "artist." But sdck YI'AGNER AS THE
APOSTLE
OF
CHASTIAY
Is this still German? Out of a Germanheart, this torrid sereeching? a Germanbody, this self-laceration? German,this priestly afiectation, lurid preaching? this incense-smelling German,this plunging,halting, reeling, this sugar-sweetishbim-bam pealing? this nunnishogling,Aoa leavening, this whole falsely ecstaticheaven over-heavening? Is this still German? ConsiderlStayl You are peqplexed? That wlich you hearis Rome-Rome'sfaitlt uitlout the text. 2
There is no necessaryoppositionbetweensensuality and chastity; every good marriage, every love affair, that comesfrOmthe heartis beyondthis opposition.But in a casein which this oppositionreally exists,fortunatelyit needby no meansbe a tragic opposition.This woulcl seemto hold at leastfor all the better turned out, more cheerfulmortals,who are far from countingtheir labile balancebetrveenangeland petite bAte as necessarily amongthe objectionsto existence:the ffnest,the
674
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
brightest, like Haffa like Goethe, have even considered this one attraction more. Such contradictions actually seduce to existence. On the other hand, it is only too easy to understand that, should those whom misfortune has changed into the animals of Circe ever be brought to the point of adoring chastity, they will see only their own opposite in it and will adore it
3 At this point, of course, we cannot escape another question: What could that male (yet so unmasculine) "innocence from the country" really be to him, that poor devil and child of nature, Parsifal, whom Wagner ffnally makes a Catholic by such captious means? Horv now? Was this Parsifal meant at all seriously?For, that he has been laughed at, I would certainly be in no position to dispute-nor would Gottfried Keller.r I should really wish that the Wagnerian Parsifal were intended as a prank-as the epilogue and satyr play, as it were, with which the tragedian Wagner wanted to say farewell in a fftting manner worthy of himself-to us, to himself, and above all to traged4, with an excessive, sublimely wanton parody on the tragic itself, on all the former horrid earthly seriousnessand earthly misery, on the rno,vfstupid form, overcome at long last, of the antinature of the ascetic ideal. After all, Parsifal is operetta material par excellence.Is Wagner's Parsifal his secretly superior laughter at himself, the triumph of his ultimate lThe famousSwisswriter (r8rg-r8go) whonr Nietzsche admired.
gI5 NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER ultra-Wagner {reedom, his artistic plus non artistic able to laugh at himselff Clearln oneshouldrvish that; for what would Parcifal amountto if intendedasa seriouspiece?Must we realll' hasexpressed it againstme) "the seein it (assomebody abortion.gone mad of a hatredof knowledge,spirit, and sensuality''P A curseon the sensesand the spirit in a singlehatred and breath?An apostasyand reiersionto sickly Christianand obscurantist ideals?And in the end on the part even a self-abnegation, a self-crossing-out of an artist who had previouslyaimed at the very oppositeof this, striving with all the power of his will to achievethe highestspiritualizationand sensualization in his art?And not only in his art, but alsoin his life. lIte should rememberhow enthusiasticallyWagner oncefollorvedin the footstepsof the philosopherFeuerbach. In the thirties and forties,Feuerbach'ssloganof 'healthy sensuality"soundedto Wagner, as to many other Germans-they calledthemselves the young Germans-like the words of redemption.Had he learned differently in the end? For it seems,at leas! that he ffnally had the will to teaclt,difierently.Did the hatred oguinstlife become dominant in him, as in Flaubert? For Parsifalis a work of perfidy,of vindictiveness, of a secretattempt to poisonthe presuppositions of lifea Dadwork. The preachingof chastityremainsan incitementto anti-naturerI despiseeveryonewho doesnot experience Parsifalasan attemptedassassination of basic ethics. HOTI' I
SNOKT
AIVAY
FNODI
1VAGNER
I
By the summerof 1876,during the time of the ftrst Festspiele,I said farewell to Wagner in my heart. I
g16
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE ambiguity; and since Wagner had moved to sufier no Germany, he bad condescendedst"p by rt"p to eve{Fthing I despise---evento anti-Semitism. It was indeed high time to say farewell: soon after, I receivedthe proof. Richard Wagner, apparentlymost triumphant, but in truth a-decaflng and despairingdecadent,suddenlysankdown, helplessand broken,before the Christian cross. Did no German have eyes in his head or prty in his consciencefor this horrid spectacle? Was I the only one whom it pained?Enough;-this un>.---_Js _ expected event struck me like lightning and gave gre .|n' Zclarity about the place I had left-and alsothat shudder
-weary, ffnally and not least of all, from the grief arousedby an inexorablesuspicionthat I was heneeforth sentencedto mistrustmore profoundly,to despise more profoundly, to be more profoundly abne than ever before. For I had had nobody except Richard Wagner. I have alwaysbeen sententedto Germans 2
Lonely henceforthand badly mistrustful of myself, I then took.sides,not without indignation,againstmyself and for everythingthat hurt and was hard just for me: thus I found the way again to that courageouspessimism which is the oppositeof all idealistic mendaciousness,and also,it seemsto me, the way to mgself,to my
NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER 677 That hidden and masterfulsomethingfor which we-long do not havea name,until ffnallyit provesitself to be our task-this tyrant in us wreakshorrible revenge for every attempt we make to dodgeor escapeit, f6r every prematu_reresignation, for every acceptanceof equalitywith thoseamongwhom we do not b-elong,for every activity, howeverrespectable,which distractsus from our main caus*indeed, for every virtue which 'our would protect us from the hardnessof inmost responsibility.Every time, sicknessis the responsewhen we want to doubt our right to our task when we begin to makethings easierfor ourselvesin any way. Stran-ge and at the same time terriblel It is the easing of oir burden which we must atonemost harshly.lid if we want to return to health afterward,we have no choice: we must assumea heaoiet burden than we ever carried before.
-task.
THE
PSYCHOLOGIST
SPEATS UP
I
, {he.more 3 psychologist-aborn and inevitablepsychologistand unriddler of souls-applieshimselfto the more exquisitecasesand humanbeings,the greaterbecomes.the-danger_that he might sufiicate oT pity. He neadshardnessand cheerfulneismorethan any-one else. the comrption,the destruction,of the higher men fo1 is the rule: it is terrible constantlyto have su"cha rule before.o"* The manifoldtorture of the psychol"ygr. o-gr*yhg has discoveredthis eomrption,who dliscovers thy-yhofe inner haplessness of the higherman,this eternal 'too late" in everysensqffrst in oie and then alreeosl always again through the whole"use of history-
i
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE A78 tale preference for association with everyday, wellordered people: this reveals that he always requires a cure, that he needs a kind of escape and forgetting, away from all that with which his insights, his incisions, his uaft, burden his conscience. He is characterized by fear of his memory. He is easily silenced by the iudgments of others; he listens with an immobile face as they venerate, admire, love, and transffgure where he has seen---or he even concealshis silence by explicitly agreeing with some foreground opinion. Perhaps the paradox of his situation is so horrible that the 'educated," on their part, learn the greatest veneration precisely where he has learned the greatest pity coupled with the greatest contempt. And who knows whether what happened in all great caseslvas not simply this-that one adored a god, and that the god was merely a poor sacriffcial animal. Succe,sshas always been the greatest liar-and lhe uork, the il,eeil too, is a success.The great statesman, the conqueror, the discoverer is disguised by his creations, c,oncealedbeyond recognition; it is the work, of the artist as of the philosophers, that invents the man who has *Great created it, who is wpposed to have created it. men,o as they are venerated, are subsequent pieces of wretched minor ffction: in the world of historical values, ccunterfeit rules. 'L
Those great poets, for example, men like Byron, Musset, Poe, Leopardi, Kleist, Gogol-I do not dare mention far greater names, but I mean them-are and must be men of the moment, sensual, absurd, fivefold, irresponsible, and sudden in mistrust and trust; with souls in which they must usually conceal some fracture; often taking revenge with their works for some inner
NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER 079 eontamination,often seekingwith their high flights to escapeinto forgedulnessfrom an all-too-faithful memory; idealistsfrom the vicinity of.atsamp*what torture are these great artists and all the so-calledhigher men for him who has guessedtheir true naturel We are all advocatesof the mediocre.It is easyto understandthat it is womanJairvo-yant in the woild of sufiering,and, unfortunatelS also desirousfar beyond her strerigth to help and to sav+who so readily accords thesJ men thoseoutbreaksof inftnitepity on which the mass,particularlythe veneratingmass,then lavishinguisitiveand self-satisfted interpretaiions.This pity regularlydeceives itself about its oin sbength:*oitotrrv6Ua fik" to buIievethat love can achieveeoerything-it is her characteristic superstiticn.Alas, whoeverknows the heart will guesshowpoor,helpless,arrogant,and mistakenis even the best, the profoundest lov+how it eyen destroys rather than saves. 3 The spirilual nausea and haughtinessof every human being who has sufiereddeeply-5s*, deeply one can sufier almost determinesthe order of ranli-his shuddering certainty, which permeatesand colors him throughand through,_thatby virtue of his sufieringhe ktwws more than thc clevereit and wisestcould posJibly know, and that he knowshis way and hasonce-beenat home in many-distan!terrifying worlds of which *you know n-othing"-this spiritual and silent haughtinlss, this pride of the elect of cognition,of the "initiited,. of the almostsacriffced,ffnds all kinds of disguisenecessary to protect itself againstcontact with officiousand pitlrg hands,and againsteverythingthat is not a peer in suffering.Deep sufferingmakesnoble; it separates. One of the ffnest disguisesis Epicureanism,and a
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 680 certain ostentatiouscourageof taste which takes sufiering gUblyand wards ofi everythingsadand deep.There 'cheerful are people"who employ cheerfulnessin order to be misunderstood-they want to be misunderstood. There are'tcientiffc sprri,ts"who employsciencebecause it gives a cheerfulappdarance,.andbecausescientism suggeststhat a man is superftcial-they $ant to seduce others to such a false inference,There are free, impudent spirits who would like to concealand deny that at bottom they are broken, incurable hearts-the caseof Hamlet: and then even foolishnesscan be the mask for an unblessedall-too-certaincertaingr. EPILOCUE I
I have often askedmyself whether f am not more heavily obligated to the hardest years of my life than to any otlers. As my inmost nature teachesme, whatever is necessary-as seenfrom the heights and in the sense.ofa great economy-is also the useful par excellence: one should not only bear it, one should l.ooeit. Anwr fati: that is my inmost nature. And as for my long sickness,do I not owe it indescribablymore than I owe to my health? I owe it a higher health
NIETZSCHECONTRA WAGNER 681 things in which formetly *" may have found our humanity. I doubt that such a pain makes us "better," but I know that it makes us more profound, Whether we learn to pit our pride, our scorn, our will power against it, equaling the American Indian who, however tortured, evens the score with his torturer by the malice of his tongue; or whether we withdraw from pain into that Nothing, into mute, rigid, deaf resignation, self-forgetting, self-extinction: out of such long and dangerous exercisesof self-mastery one emerges as a different person, with a few mare question marksabove all, with the will to question more persistently, more deeply, severely, harshly, evilly, and quietly than has ever been questioned on this earth befori. The trust in life is gone; life itself has become a problem. Yet one should not jump to the conclusion that with all this a man has necessarilybecome dusky, a barn owl. Even ttrre love of life is still possible--only, one loves difierently. It is the love foi a woman wiro raises doubts in
us.
2
What is strangestis thisr afterward one has a difierent taste-a second,taste. Out of such abysses,also out of the abyss of great suspieion, one returns newborn, having shed onet skin, more ticklish and sarcastic,with a more delicate taste f.or ioy, with a more tender tongue f_or all good things, with gayer senses,with a secJnd darrgero_rrs innocence in joy, more childlike and yet a hundred times more subtle than one has ever been before. How repulsive pleasure is now, that crude, musty, brown pleasure as it. is understood by those who like pleasure, our "educated" people, our rich people, and our rulersl How sarcastically we listen now to the big
682
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
-educated" county-fair boom-boomwith which the [*tson and city dweller today permits art, books,and music to rapehim and provide'spiritual pleasures"-with the aid of spirituous liquorsl How the theatrical screamof passionnow hurts our ears,how strangeto our tastethe whole romanticuproar and tumult of the senseshave become,which the educated rabble loveg and all its aspirationsafter the elevated,inflated, and exaggeratedl No, if we who have recoveredstill need art, it is another kind of art+ mocking,light, feeting, divinely untroubled, divinely artiffcial art, which, like a pure f,ame,licks into uncloudedskies.Aboveall, an art for artists,for artistsonlg! We know better afterwardwhat above all is neededfor this: cheerfulness,any cheerfulness,my friends.There are a few thingswe now know too well, we knowing ones:oh, how we learn norv to forget well, and to be good at nof knowing,as artistsl And as for our future, one will hardly find us again on the paths of tlose Egyptian youths who endanger temples by night, embrace statues, and want by 4l meansto unveil, uncover,and put into a bright Iight whateveris kept concealedfor good reasons.lNo, this 'truth at any price," this bad taste,this will to truth, to youthful madnessin the love of truth, have lost their too sericharm for us: for that we are too experienced, ous,too gay,too burned, too deep.We no longerbelieve that brrth remainstruth when the veils are withdrawn.we have lived enoughnot to believe this. Today we considerit a rnatter of decencynot to wish to seeeverything naked,or to be presentat everything,or to understand and'know' everything.Tout comprend,re-Cest tout mdpriser.2 *Is it true that God is present eoerywhercY a little I Allusionto e Schillerballad. t'1lo understand all is to despiseall.-
NIETZSCHE CONTRAWAGNER 683 'I girl askedher mother; think that'sindecent--a hint for philosopherslOne shouldhavemor.erespectfor the bashfulness with which nature has hidden behind riildles and iridescentuncertainties.Perhapstruth is a woman who has reasonsfor not letting ui seeher reasons?Perhapsher name is-to speak-Greek-Baubo? Oh, thoseGreekslThey knew how to live. What is r-equy9{ for that is to stop courageouslyat the surface, the fold, the skin, to adore app6arance,to believe in forms, tones, words, in the wliole Olympus of appearance.ThoseGreekswere superffcial-ou{of profind,ltg. And is not this preciselywhit we are again comingbaJk to, we daredevilsof the spirit who hlve climbJd the highestand most-dangerouJpeak of presentthoughtand. Iooked around from-up thire.-wd who have"looked doun from there?Are we not, preciselyin this respecL Greeks?Adorersof forms, of tonis, of words?And tierefore<.rficisP
684
THE PORTABLE NIETZSCHE
Lrrrrns (1889) oprron'g NorE Early in tanuary 1889 Nietzschu, t!"4 in- Turin, saw a co"Jh-.tt"fog a horse,rushed toward the horse,and collapsed with hlis arms around it. He was carried home, and, wrote and mailed a number afier recoveringconsciousness, outbreak of his madness' sudden the of letters whici minor They are the last meaningfulthings he wrote' i'h" -"r referred to in-ihe lettei to Burckhardthad been recently. Prado and Chambigehad.been tried in ttu "ttut in November 1888, in Paris and Algaia'-refor murder snectively; and in a letter to Strindberg, Nietzsche had *}itt.t 6n December7: "Ptado was superiorto his iudges to his lawyers in his self-control' esptit' ,and .oJ "u." Lesseps,of course,is the man who had built nrankishness." fi;; s";; ca"d. erir,onse Daudet had recently a satiriial attack on Les Quarante(that is, the iint^o*rt, F."och Academy)' The hero of this work is calleil Astier' tttit *uy hllp to account for the word "Astu" in the "iJ it a ietterio overbeck, on Novembe-rr3, Nietzsche il;; hal mentionedthe funeral of Conte Robilant, "the most incide-ntally' typ" of the Piedmontese ;;;Jt Irobility and ff*lly' Antonelli, Alberto"' Carlo King of son ut it t**,i, " of State under Pius IX'l was papal Secretary nurcichardt took this letter to Overbeck, who went to Turin to bring his friend home. After a short spell-in-an h" wis releasedin care of his mother; and after "ryf"tn h& death, his sister moved him to Weimar-the city of Goethe and Schiller-as part of her attempt to start a Nietzschecult. He died on August 25' 19oo' lCf. C. A. Bernoulli's Ftanr' Ooerbec-ku-nd Ftiedrich t'lletzseti' dg"Si; which also contains-brief accountsof irials, .and -E'- F' Podach's iil;- P;;i"';a'bl".uig" (rggo), which features a insant"ebtfth N;*;;i;; facsimile of the letter.
LETTERS (1889)
685
TO GAST
Turin, January 4, 1889 To my ma€stro Pietro. _ Sing me a new-song: the'world is transffgured and all the heavens are full of joy. The Cruciffed
TO
JACOB
BURCTTIARDT
6 1889t .lanuuY
Dear Professor, In the end I would much rather be a Baselprofessor tlan God; but I have not dared pushmy privat-eegoism so far as to desist for its sakefrom thJ dreation if the world. You see,one must make sacrificeshowever and wherever one lives. But I have reservedmyself a small shrdent'sroom, situatedoppositethePalazzoCarignano(in which I was bom as Vittorio Emanuele),which alsopermitsme to hear from the deskthe magniffssntmusic below, in the Galleria Subalpina.I pay twenty-ftve francs, including sel4ce-,buy my tea, and do all my shopping myself, sufrerfrom torn shoes,and thank heavenevtry moment for the old world for which men have not been simple and quiet enough. SinceI am sentencedto while away the next etemity with bad_jokes,I have my writing here, which really does not leave anything to be deslred-very nice ani not at all exhausting.The post ofice is ffve stepsfrom here, so I mail *! t"tt"ti myself to play the geat l But postmarked Turin,
]anuary5.
THE PORTABLENIETZSCHE 688 the gande mond,e.Of course,I mainol feuilletontst tain closerelations with Figaro; and in order to get an idea how harmlessI can bg listen to my ffrst two bad iokes. Do not take the Pradocasetoo hard. I am Prado;I am also father Prado; I dare say that I am Lessepstoo. I wanted to give my Parisians,whom I lovo, a new notion: that of a decentcriminal.I am alsoChambigealso a decentcriminal. Secotd ioke: I salutethe immortal one; Monsieur Daudet belongs to the quarunte. Astu. What is disagreeable and offendsmy modestyis.that at bottom I am everynamein history. With the children I haveput into the world too, I considerwith somemistust whether it is not the casethat all who come dnfo the kingdom of God also comeouf of God. This fall I was blindedas little aspossiblewhen I twice witnessed my funeral,ffrst as ConteRobilant (no, that is my son, insofaras I am CarloAlberto,unfaithful to my nature); but Antonelli I was myself. Dear Professor,this ediffce you should see: since I am utterly inexperiencedin the things which I create,you are entitled to any criticism; I am gratefulwithout being ableto promisethat I shall profit. We artistsare incorrigible. Today f saw an operetta,Quirinal-Moorisfuand on this occasionalso noted with delight that Moscowas well as Rorneare now grandioseaffairs.You see,I am not deniedconsiderabletalent for landscapes too. Consider, now we have beautiful, beautiful chats; Turin is not far; very seriousprofessionalobligationsare lacking iust now; a glassof Veltliner could be obtained. NegW of dress,a conditionof being decent. With affestionatelove, your Nietzsche
LETTERS(1889) 087 the margins [On of this letter are four postscripts.] You may make any use of this letter which will not degrademe in the eyesof thoseat Basel. I have_hail-Caiphas put in fetters.Also, last year I was cruciffed by th9 Germandoctorsin a very dtawnout manner. Wilhelm, Bismarclq and all anti-Semites abolished" _ I go everywherein my student'scoat, and here and &ere sl.1p^soqebgdy on the shoulder and say, Siamo contentP Sondio ho fatto quostocartcaturo.r . -Topolow my son-Umbertowill comewith the lovely Margharita, whom, however, I shall also receive hero only in shirtsleeves.The rest for Frau Cosima-Ariadno -from time to time there is magic. TO OVERBECtr
ro friend overbeck andwife.Althoush iffijJil:
demonstrated tittll faith in my ability"to pay,lyet hope to demonstrate that I am somebodywho payst i, a"U:ts -. for example,to you. I am just hiving ail inti-Semites shot Dionysus
t ?" ture."
we conteat?I am the god who has made this caricr
Editionsof Nietzsche For a much more comprehensivebibliography' ^seethe Srtl KaufmanrfsNietzsche (Princeton: Princeton Unii"r. "f "a. n"* votit,-n""tio* House'vintage Books' ;:;il;P;;""a tsilii .ini' k tnmatiorrll NietzscheBiblio gr.ap\t1'described doesnot include rvritingJDy Nietzsche' pj"i, "1";L, "l
A. Gerrran Editions of His Worla tbo There are a great many collected ediuons' For scholars' two most imPortant are: i,iottoktaoausgabe, mil eil' zo v9\ rttpzig: I wiii, (vol' XX'-containing-T$99 tg"O -LvIII, I36ner, 1901-1913 D(-xvr' worls; vor' roil i-xvi). "tt[
i*
-vob'
Nachloss(i.e., notes,fragmenb,an{ othg manuscri-pt U/Nieesche himselfanil for tbe -"i"tl"i"lll"Ufrtnea noi int"oa"a f6r publication);vols' XVII-XDL ;;;f; noltesanil relatedmaterialsbeiiiiffii"-i".'-r*ttt" i; b" i"tioa **n Niettsthe was a classical il;'td philolosist). z3-vols'Municb: wetke, Mwartonawgaba' -' t;;;:;;i; anil Phlb' ". M*"rion Verlag ,g;tgog' Boola,Nachlass' bglco arc arraiged io a singlechronologicalsequence; vol. I contain,pr""io*ty unfublishedtryeytoa;ha|f-of intlex vol. XXI cootains- i"ati* of iames'whicb like the Philathe cpvers Xxll-xnu)' ;.sultects GU or "ob. Iacicaloo.In mostwaysthis editionis-obviouslyPlef€r' edition iui"i"-iri" Ciiiioxn"o*gobe; but the earlier on ootes editolal interesting of appenilix ;;;-rain-san be foun
;"il;i
w;t'il-al'to['
rhc otbrielehailappeareit
EDITIONS OF NIETZSCIIE 6S9 .works' ?rrangement is chronological, and the do not include- any of Nietzsche's books but cover only thc p_eriodfrom 1854,when Nietzschewas ten, to 1866.But H. J. Mette's discussionof the MSS in Werke, I; xxricxxvi, includesthe Ir{SSof Nietzsche'slater worla. 4 Werke in drai Biinden, Ed. Karl Schlechta. g vots. Munich: Carl Hanser,1954-1956.Vols. I-II coniain all Nietzschds books as well as someof his late poerns;vol III contairs a selectionfrom the Nacliax, zjg l*ters, a chronology(pp. rg59-82), and a long philoiogicalpostscript (pp. rg83-r432). In 1965 a 4th vol was added: Nietsche-hfu,. Some minor euors mar vola I-II; vol. III is most open to obiections.On the positive side, it contairu a few previously unpublished letlers, and the philological -Postscript-details the forgeries perpetrated by Nietzschei sister, but these forgeries conct"o-Ietters only of-no philosophical 6terest. On the negativb T9 q" side, the selectionsfrom the Nuhl^ossof tlre rggds aro colffned aclwively to the notes previouslr lmown as lhe_Wil g nowet; these notes have been'edited very badln anil dl late notes that the editors of the mors comprehensiveeditions had not included b The Wil, ta Pouer have been omittd though in enbies r and I ffll many volumes.ffi aitoriA arrangement :b*. F"y -editor, systematic nor, as claimed by the I. 1:iS* faithful to the manuscripts; the text departs from the wherever entries r and e do-and disregards T*potptrttro interesting notes in vol. XVI of r which inclicatEde_ prtures fron t}le manuscripts.For more detailed discussion, $eethe Kaufmanntranslations(C. II below). 7, Kriircrs TascheruusgaDe. Vols. Zo17 @ntain Nietzsche,s booksas well as selectionsfrorn the Nacliass of his Basel period-;78 crntains The WiIt to powe4 gz_gg a selection from the late Nachlarsmaterinl; r7o an indexlor all these volumes.Thesehandy vo-lumes can be bought separatel). {f ggstsgliptsby Alf-red Bduinler, rvho wis a Nazi, aie objectionable,and volumes 8z-8g are inadequate;but t vob,7o-78 are adeguatefor most pulposes.
a 690
EDITIONS OT NIETZSCHE
6. Werket Kdtlsche Auegabesitmtltchet Schrtftun und,cwcbgelassenenFragmente. Ed. Giorgio Collt. go vols. Berlin: de Gruyter, r967fi. Instead of continuing edition g' abovg plans have beenmade for yet anothermoDumental collectededition.
B. GerrranEditionsof His Letters L Fde&tch NietzschesGesammelteBriefe. 5, vols. Berlin uod Leipzig: Schuster & Loefrer (later, Insel-Verlag), rgoofi. Somb of Nietzsche'sletten to his sister in vol. V (actually two volumes with cpnsecutivepagination) aro not authentic (see A.+ above). StiU this e&tion has never beeo replaced,though it has been inportantly sup plemented by the followiog collections. t NietzschesBdefueclsel mit Frcnz Ooefteak, Leipzlg: Insel, 1916. Overbeckwas Nietzsche'scolleagueat Basel and remained a loyal friend to the enil. These important 'lettersare not included in B.r. g. Elisabeth Ftirster-Nietzsche.Wagnet und Nbtzsche zar Zefr ihrer Frcutdschaft. Munich: Miiller, t9r5; tr. by C. V. Kerr, introduction by H. L Menckeo" as The N letzscha-Wagnet Conesporderca. London: Dudnrortb' 792^ 4 Wala afi,Bdefa (A.3, above) tnduiles 4 rols. of letten (Munich: Beck, rg38-r942), which spanthe periotl from r85o to r.877,Bdefe, vol. I, pp. xii-lviii, ofier a detailed and valuable survey of tle whereaboutsof all Nietxche letters of which theNietzsche Archive had any knowledge at that time. This survey also lists letters publisheil in periodicals and in biographical works. Many letters are privatd owned anil asyet r'.published 5: Seo.{.4,abova
C. Nietzsche in English I. The Oscar I"evY Translations r8 rols. E& of kiedrtch Nletzsche. f, TheCompleteWorles OscarLevy. New York: Macmillaa,r9ogrr911,relssue, 196+ NewYork:Russell& RusseU,
EDITIONS OF NTETZSCIIE
69I
of Ffiedrtch Nietzsche. Ed.Oscar Levy. " YryQ-ryftef Tr. A. M. Ludovici. New york and Toronto: Doubleday, Page& Co., rgar. These translations,Doneof them W Dr. Le,,ryhimse[ an immenselabor of love but are thoroughly rytgq+ yreliab!9. In bis preface to the collected ediuon,"Di. I,evy called Ludovici .'the most gifted and conscientious of-my collaborators.' But in the"latest edition Ludovici 'cosmopolitano where Nietzsche has .cesmo$ll has lo$cal"; and where Nietzsche says, ..Ibsen has become very clear to me,- Ludovici sUll says,.Ibsen has become very German." Similar mistakesabbund. II. lthe Walter Kaufmann Translations Nietzschet most important writings are available in tbreo volumes, The translations of On ihe Genealoggof Morak aad.The lYtll to pouer are by Kaufmann a"a'{. 1.'ffoUing_ dale jointly; all the others, ai well as all the introilucUois and commentaries,are by Kaufmaonalone. \ The Ponablc Nretzs;he. New york: Tte Viking press, 1954,-Contains completenew translations of fhri Spoki ?:rlthu:tro, Tuilieht of the ldols, The Anttchrbt,'and, Ntetz,scheconba WaEw, and of more than roo pagesof ad&tional selections.' Wrlilgs of Nietzsche.Nen, yort<: Ranilour Housg * P1{,, yt-|o;1 r-iUr1q Giant, 1968. Contains complete new ranstations, with footrote cpmmentaries,of Tie Birth of lr:er-d1,_Frggnd, God atd Eoil, On ihe Geneatogyof More: The Caseof Wagner, and.Ecce io^o, uwell as zS aphorisms Itoa, Hunan, AlJ-too-Human;baum; and The Gay Science, 3, \he WiU t! PotpeLwith commentaryand facsimilesof the originalmanuscript.New york: R;",Io; Fiour", ,967. 4. T_wmty German p6ets: A Btlingui-Coifrion, N*, York: Random House, r-962; repiinted in the Modern I$oty, 1963. Includes elevenpdemsby aud tbree about Nietzsche.
69I
EDITIONS OF NIETZSCHE
Many of_thesetranslationsare also availablesepamtely,ia paperbackeditions,asfollows: Thus Spoke Zarathustra. New York: The Viking Press, CompassViking Edition, 1966. Beyond.Cood and Eoil, 1966; The Birth of Tragedy and The Caseol Wagner, ry67; On the Cenealogyof Moralsand Ecce Homo, with 75 aphorisms,tg67; The Will to Pouer, 1968: all New York: RandomHouse,Vintage Books. III. Other Translations llhere are other translationsof single works, but no one else has translatednrore tlan two or three, and none of tho major works has been rendered into English by another philosopher. In Francis Golfrng's versions ot The Birth of Tragedy and The Genealogyof Morals (Garden City, N.Y.! DoubledayAnchor Books,1956), ttre acceatis on freedom, and therearestrikingomissions. Tlro *orla not included in the Kaufmann traaslatlons need redoing. Qf ldrreUntimelyMeiliutiotx; Human, Nl-tooHu.rnan; The Dawn; and,The Gay Scbttce, only the third Meditntion has been done in recetrt yea$: Schopenhauetas Eilucator, tr. I. W. Hillesheim and Malcolm R. Simpson (Chicago: Henry Regnery,GatewayEditions, 1965). Difierent selectionsfrom the tbree aphoristic booksare in cludedin II.r and II.z, above. Nietrsche: Unpubli:;heil Lette$, Tr. and eil. by Kurt F. Leidecker.New York: PhilosophicalLibrary, 1959.Ofiets a selectionof 75 items from Schlechta'sselectionof e78 letters. The translations and the preface contain many errors; the title of the book is grossly misleading, and some of these letters were actually included in &e presentvolume in rg54. IV. Forgery My Sisterand I, publishedover Nietzsche'snameln rg5r. in English only, is an insipid forgery. See Kaufmann'r expos6s,listed on p. 26, above.
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