classes ::: Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche, Philosophy, Poetry, chapter,
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object:1.12 - ON THE FLIES OF THE MARKETPLACE
book class:Thus Spoke Zarathustra
author class:Friedrich Nietzsche
subject class:Philosophy
subject class:Poetry
class:chapter



ON THE FLIES OF THE MARKET PLACE

Flee, my friend, into your solitude! I see you dazed
by the noise of the great men and stung all over by
the stings of the little men. Woods and crags know
how to keep a dignified silence with you. Be like the
tree that you love with its wide branches: silently
listening, it hangs over the sea.
Where solitude ceases the market place begins; and
where the market place begins the noise of the great
actors and the buzzing of the poisonous flies begins too.
In the world even the best things amount to nothing
without someone to make a show of them: great men
the people call these showmen.
Little do the people comprehend the great-that is,
the creating. But they have a mind for all showmen
and actors of great things.


Around the inventors of new values the world revolves: invisibly it revolves. But around the actors
revolve the people and fame: that is "the way of the
world."
The actor has spirit but little conscience of 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 tomorrow a newer
one. He has quick senses, like the people, and capricious moods. To overthrow-that means to him: to
prove. To drive to frenzy-that means to him: to persuade. And blood is to him the best of all reasons. A
truth that slips into delicate ears alone he calls a lie
and nothing. Verily, he believes only in gods who make
a big noise in the world!
Full of solemn jesters is the market place-and the
people pride themselves on their great men, the;:. masters of the hour. But the hour presses them; so they
press you. And from you too they want a Yes or No.
Alas, do you want to place your chair between pro and
con?
Do not be jealous of these unconditional, pressing
men, you lover of truth! Never yet has truth hung on
the arm of the unconditional. On account of these
sudden men, go back to your security: it is only in
the market place that one is assaulted with Yes? or No?
Slow is the experience of all deep wells: long must
they wait before they know what 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.
Flee, my friend, into your solitude: I see you stung
all over by poisonous flies. Flee where the air is raw
and strong.
Flee into your solitude! You have lived too close to


53
the small and the miserable. Flee their invisible revengel Against you they are nothing but revenge.
No longer raise up your arm against them. Numberless are they, and it is not your lot to shoo flies.
Numberless are these small and miserable creatures;
and many a proud building has perished of raindrops
and weeds. You are no stone, but you have already
become hollow from many drops. You will yet burst
from many drops. I see you wearied by poisonous flies,
bloody in a hundred places; and your pride refuses
even to be angry. Blood is what they want from you in
all innocence. Their bloodless souls crave blood, and
so they sting in all innocence. But you, you deep one,
suffer too deeply even from small wounds; and even
before you have healed, the same poisonous worm
crawls over your hand. You are too proud to kill these
greedy creatures. But beware lest it become your downfall that you suffer all their poisonous injustice.
They hum around you with their praise too: obtrusiveness is their praise. They want the proximity of
your skin and your blood. They flatter 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 affect charm. But that has always been
the cleverness of cowards. Indeed, cowards are cleverly
They think a lot about you with their petty soulsyou always seem problematic to them. Everything that
one thinks about a lot becomes problematic.
They punish you for all your virtues. They forgive
you entirely-your mistakes.
Because you are gentle and just in disposition you
say, "They are guiltless in their small existence." But
their petty souls think, "Guilt is every great existence."
Even when you are gentle to them they still feel


54
despised by you: and they return your benefaction with
hidden malefactions. Your silent pride always runs
counter to their taste; they are jubilant if for once you
are modest enough to be vain. That which we recognize in a person we also inflame in him: therefore, beware of the small creatures. Before you they feel small,
and their baseness glimmers and glows in invisible revenge. Have you not noticed how often they became
mute when you stepped among them, and how their
strength went from them like smoke from a dying fire?
Indeed, my friend, you are the bad conscience of
your neighbors: for they are unworthy of you. They
hate you, therefore, and would like to suck your blood.
Your neighbors will always be poisonous flies; that
which is great in you, just that must make them more
poisonous and more like flies.
Flee, my friend, into your solitude and where the
air is raw and strong! It is not your lot to shoo flies.
Thus spoke Zarathustra.



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