object:Thus Spoke Zarathustra text
class:chapter
class:text
book class:Thus Spoke Zarathustra
author class:Friedrich Nietzsche
translator class:Walter Kaufmann
TRANSLATOReS PREFACE
Zarathustrais by far Nietzsche's most popular book, but
Nietzsche himself never witnessed its success. The first
three parts, each composed in about ten days, were at
first published separately, and scarcely sold at all. Of
Part Four, Nietzsche had only a few copies printed privately; and the first public edition was held up at the
last moment in 1891 when his family feared that it
would be confiscated on a charge of blasphemy. By then
Nietzsche was insane and unaware of what was happening. Part Four appeared in 1892, and it was not confiscated. The first edition of the whole work followed not
long after.
Zarathustra is as different from its reputation as its
author is different from the widely reproduced busts and
pictures commissioned by his sister. Her grandiose conception of the heroic strikes us as childish and has provoked the reaction, understandably enough, that
Nietzsche was really a mere petit rentier. But perhaps
there are more kinds of valor than are dreamed of by
most of Nietzsche's admirers and detractors. And the
most important single clue to Zarathustrais that it is
the work of an utterly lonely man.
He is shy, about five-foot-eight, but a little stooped,
almost blind, reserved, unaffected, and especially polite;
he lives in modest boarding houses in Sils Maria, Nizza,
Mentone, Rome, Turin. This is how Stefan Zweig brings
him to life for us: "Carefully 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 strong, the food not spiced too much, for every
xiil
xiv
mistake in his diet upsets his sensitive digestion, and
every transgression in his nourishment wreaks havoc
with his quivering nerves for days. No glass of wine, 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 little urbane, unprofound conversation in a soft voice
with an occasional neighbor (as a man speaks who for
years has been unused to talking and is afraid of being
asked too much).
"And up again into the small, narrow, modest, coldly
furnished chambre garnie, where innumerable notes,
pages, writings, 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 graceless wooden
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 potions:
against the migraines, which often render him all but
senseless for hours, against his stomach cramps, against
spasmodic vomiting, against the slothful intestines, and
above all the dreadful sedatives against his insomnia,
chloral hydrate and Veronal. A frightful arsenal of
poisons and drugs, yet the only helpers in the empty
silence of this strange room in which he never rests
except in brief and artificially conquered sleep. Wrapped
in his overcoat and a woolen scarf (for the wretched
stove smokes only and does not give warmth), his fingers
freezing, his double glasses pressed close to the paper,
his hurried hand writes for hours-words the dim eyes
can hardly decipher. For hours he sits like this and
writes until his eyes bum."
That is the framework, which changes little wherever
he is. But his letters seem to reveal another dimension,
for at times they are shrill and strange and remind us of
xv
his vitriolic remark about Jesus: it is regrettable that no
Dostoevski lived near him. Who else could do justice
to this weird, paradoxical personality? Yet the clue to
these letters, as also to Zarathustraand some of the last
books, is that they are the work of a thoroughly lonely
man. Sometimes they are really less letters than fantastic fragments out of the soul's dialogue with itself.
Now pleasant and polite, now such that arrogance is far
too mild a word-and yet his feeling of his own importance, painfully pronounced even in some very early
letters, was of course not as insane as it must have appeared at times to those to whom he wrote. Resigned
that those surrounding him had no idea who he was,
and invariably kind to his social and intellectual inferiors, he sometimes felt 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,
or even good advice, or pity, worst of all. Is it surprising
that on rare occasions, when he was sufficiently provoked,
we find appeals to his old-fashioned sense of 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 a
pistol is for me at the moment a source of relatively
agreeable thoughts."
Then there are his several hasty proposals of marriage,
apparently followed by a real sense of relief when the
suggestion was refused politely. The proposals may seem
quite fantastic, the more so because, except in the case
of Lou Salom6, no really deep feelings were involved.
But a few times he was desperate enough to grasp at
any possibility at all of rescue from the sea of his solitude.
xvi
In his letters these dramatic outbursts are relatively
exceptional. But the histrionics of Zarathustra should be
seen in the same light. For impulses that others vent
upon their wives or friends, or at a party, perhaps over
drinks, Nietzsche had no other outlet. In Nizza, where
he wrote Part Three of Zarathustra, he met a young
man, Dr. Paneth, who had read the published portion
and was eager to talk with the author. On December 26,
1883, Paneth wrote home: "There is not a trace of false
pathos or the prophet's pose in him, as I had rather
feared after his last work. Instead his manner is completely inoffensive and natural. We began a very banal
conversation about the climate, living accommodations,
and the like. Then he told me, but without the least affectation or conceit, that he always felt himself to have
a task and that now, as far as his eyes would permit it,
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 Paneth and spared us some of the melodrama in
Zarathustra. In places, of course, the writing is superb
and only a pedant could prefer a drabber style. But
often painfully adolescent emotions distract our attention from ideas that we cannot dismiss as immature at
all. For that matter, adolescence is not simply immaturity; it also marks a breakdown of communication, a
failure in human relations, and generally the first deep
taste of solitude. And what we find again and again in
Zarathustraare the typical emotions with which a boy
tries to compensate himself.
Nietzsche's apparent blindness to these faults and his
extravagant praise of the book in some of his last works
are understandable. His condition had become even
more unbearable as time went on; and we should also
keep in mind not only the complete failure of the book
xvii
to elicit any adequate response or understanding, but
also the frantic sense of inspiration which had marked
the rapid writing of the first three parts. Moreover,
others find far lesser obstacles sufficient excuse for
creating nothing. Nietzsche had every reason for not
writing anything-the doctors, for example, told him
not to use his eyes for any length of time, and he often
wrote for ten hours at a time-and fashioned work on
work, making his suffering and his torments the occasion for new insights.
After all has been said, Zarathustra 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 abundance of profound
suggestions, the epigrams, the wit. What distinguishes
Zarathustrais the profusion of "sapphires in the mud."
But what the book loses artistically and philosophically
by never having been critically edited by its author, it
gains as a uniquely personal record.
In a passage that is quoted again as the motto of Part
Three, Zarathustra asks: "Who among you can laugh
and be elevated at the same time?" The fusion of seriousness and satire, pathos and pun, is as characteristic
of the message as it is of the style of the book. This modem blend of the sublime and the ridiculous places the
work somewhere between the Second Part of Faust and
Joyce's Ulysses-both of which, after all, might also
have profited from further editing-and it helps to account for Nietzsche's admiration for Heine.
This overflowing sense of humor, which prefers even
a poor joke to no joke at all, runs counter to the popular
images of Nietzsche-not only to the grim creation of
his sister, but also to the piteous portrait of Stefan
Zweig, who was, in this respect, still too much under the
influence of Bertram's Nietzsche: Attempt at a Mythol-
xviii
ogy. Nietzsche had the sense of humor which Stefan
George and his minions, very much including Bertram,
lacked; and if Zarathustra occasionally excels George's
austere prophetic affectation, he soon laughs at his own
failings and punctures his pathos, like Heine, whom
George hated. The puncture, however, does not give
the impression of diffident self-consciousness and a
morbid fear of self-betrayal, but rather of that Dionysian exuberance which Zarathustra celebrates.
Nietzsche's fate in the English-speaking world has
been rather unkind, in spite of, or perhaps even in some
measure because of, the ebullient enthusiasm of some of
the early English and American Nietzscheans. He has
rarely been accorded that perceptive understanding
which is relatively common among the French. And
when we look back today, one of the main reasons must
be sought in the inadequacies of some of the early
translations, particularly of Zarathustra. For one thing,
they completely misrepresent the mood of the originalbeginning, but unfortunately not ending, with their
many unjustified archaisms, their "thou" and "ye" with
the clumsy attendant verb forms, and their 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 book! In fact, this alone makes the work bearable.
To be sure, Zarathustra abounds in allusions to the
Bible, most of them highly irreverent, but just these have
been missed for the most part by Thomas Common. His
version, nevertheless, was considered a sufficient improvement over Alexander Tille's earlier attempt to merit
inclusion in the "Authorized English Translation of the
Complete Works"; and while some of Common's other
efforts were supplanted by slightly better translations,
his Zarathustrasurvived, faute de mieux. For that mat-
ter, the book comes close to being untranslatable.
What is one to do with Nietzsche's constant plays on
words? Say, in der rechten Wissen-Gewissenschaft gibt
es nichts grosses und nichts 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
misunderstands it, and in both cases makes nonsense of
Nietzsche. What is the point, to give a final example,
of Nietzsche's derision of German writing, once "plain
language" is substituted for "German"? One can sympathize with the translator, but one cannot understand
or discuss Nietzsche on the basis of the versions hitherto
available.
The problems encountered in translating Zarathustra
are tremendous. Where Nietzsche does not deliberately
bypass idioms in favor of coinages, he makes fun of them
-now by taking them literally, then again by varying
them slightly. Here too he is a dedicated enemy of all
convention, intent on exposing the stupidity and arbitrariness of custom. This linguistic iconoclasm greatly
impressed Christian Morgenstern and helped to inspire
his celebrated Galgenlieder, in which similar aims are
pursued more systematically.
Nietzsche, like Morgenstern a generation later, even
creates a new animal when he speaks of Pobel-Schwindhunde. Windhund means greyhound but, more to the
point, is often used to designate a person without brains
or character. Yet Wind, the wind, is celebrated in this
passage, and so the first part of the animal's name had
to be varied to underline the opprobrium. What kind of
animal should the translator create? A weathercock is
xx
the same sort of person as a Windhund (he turns with
the wind) and permits the coinage of blether-cock.
Hardly a major triumph, but few works of world literature can rival Zarathustra in its abundance of coinages,
some of them clearly prompted by the feeling that the
worst coinage is still better than the best cliche. And this
lightheartedness is an essential aspect of Nietzsche.
Many of Nietzsche's plays on words are, of course, extremely suggestive. To give one example among scores,
there is his play on Eheschliessen, Ehebrechen, Ehebiegen, Ehe-higen, in section 24 of "Old and New
Tablets." Here the old translations did not even try, and
it is surely scant compensation when Common gratuitously introduces, elsewhere in the book, "sumpter asses
and assesses" or coins "baddest" in a passage in which
Nietzsche says "most evil." In fact, Nietzsche devoted
one-third of his Genealogy of Morals to his distinction
between "bad" and "evil."
The poems in Zarathustra present a weird blend of
passion and whimsy, but the difference between "Oh,
everything human is strange" and "0 human hubbub,
thou wonderful thing!" in the hitherto standard translation is still considerable. Or consider the fate of two
perfectly straightforward lines at the end of "The Song
of Melancholy": "That I should banned be/From all the
trueness!" And two chapters later Common gives us
these lines:
How it, to a dance-girl, like,
Doth bow and bend and on its haunches bob,
-One doth it too, when one view'th it long!In fact, Common still doth it in the next chapter: "How
it bobbeth, the blessed one, the home-returning one, in
its purple saddles!"
It may be ungracious, though hardly un-Nietzschean,
xxi
to ridicule such faults. But in the English-speaking
world, Zarathrustra has been read, written about, and
discussed for decades on the basis of such travesties, and
most criticisms of the style have no relevance whatever
to the original. A few thrusts at those who exposed
Nietzsche to so many thrusts may therefore be defensible
-in defense of Nietzsche.
For that matter, the new translation here offered certainly does not do justice to him either. Probably no
translation could; and perhaps the faults 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 Zarathustra with its
celebration of laughter contagious? After all, most of the
plays on words have no ulterior motive whatever. Must
we have a justification for laughing?
Much of what is most untranslatable is an expression
of that tJbermut which Nietzsche associates with the
tUbermensch: a lightness of mind, a prankish exuberance
-though the term can also designate that overbearing
which the Greeks called hubris. In any case, such plays
on words must be kept in translation: how else is the
reader to know which remarks are inspired primarily by
the possibility of a pun or a daring rhyme? And robbed
of its rapidly shifting style, clothed in archaic solemnity,
Zarathustrawould become a different work-like Faulkner done into the King's English. Nietzsche's writing,
too, is occasionally downright bad, but at its bestsuperb.
The often elusive ideas of the book cannot be explained briefly, apart from the text. The editor's notes,
however, which introduce each of the four parts, may
facilitate a preliminary orientation, aid the reader in
finding passages for which he may be looking, and provide a miniature commentary.
xxii
Only one of Zarathustra's notions shall be mentioned
here: the eternal recurrence of the same events. In the
plot this thought becomes more and more central as the
work progresses, yet it is not an afterthought. Nietzsche
himself, in Ecce Homo, called it "the basic conception of
the work" which had struck him in August i881; and,
as a matter of fact, he first formulated it in The Gay
Science, the book immediately preceding Zarathustra.
As long as Nietzsche was misunderstood as a Darwinist
who expected the improvement of the human race in
the course of evolution, this conception was considered
a stumbling block, and Nietzsche was gratuitously
charged with gross self-contradiction. But Nietzsche
himself rejected the evolutionary misinterpretation as
the fabrication of "scholarly oxen." And while he was
mistaken in believing that the eternal recurrence must
be accepted as an ineluctable implication of impartial
science, its personal meaning for him is expressed very
well in Ecce Homo, in the sentence already cited, where
he calls it the "highest formula of affirmation which is
at all attainable." The eternal recurrence of his solitude
and despair and of all the agonies of his tormented
body! And yet it was not his own recurrence that he
found hardest to accept, but that of the small man too.
For the existence of paltriness and pettiness seemed
meaningless even after he had succeeded in giving
meaning to his own inherently meaningless suffering.
Were not his work and his love of his work and his joy
in it inseparable from his tortures? And man is capable
of standing superhuman suffering if only he feels sure
that there is some 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
major work of literature and a personal triumph.
-WALTER KAUFMANN
THUS SPOKE
ZARATHUSTRA
A BOEOK FOR ALL AND NONE
Thus Spoke Zarathustra: First Part
TRANSLATOR'S NOTES
Prologue: Zarathustra speaks of 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 sense of a
supernatural 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
euphemism for 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 overcome it Zarathustra
calls the overman.
Shaw has popularized the ironic word "superman," which
has since become associated with Nietzsche and the comics
without ever losing its sarcastic tinge. In the present translation the older term, "overman," has been reinstated: it
may help to bring out the close relation between Nietzsche's
conceptions of the overman and self-overcoming, and to
recapture something of his rhapsodical play on the words
"over" and "under," particularly marked throughout the
Prologue. Of the many "under" words, the German untergehen poses the 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 'under"-either by way of echoing another
'under" in the same sentence or, more often, by way of
contrast with an "over" word, usually overman. Again and
again, a smooth idiomatic translation would make nonsense
of such passages, and "go under" seemed the least evil.
After all, Zarathustra has no compunctions about worse
linguistic sins.
"Over" words, some of them coinages, are common in
this work, and (3bermensch has to be understood in
its context. Mensch means human being as opposed to
animal, and what is called for is not a super-brute but a
human being who has created for himself that unique
3
position in the cosmos which the Bible considered his
divine birthright. The meaning of life is thus found on
earth, in this life, not as the inevitable outcome of evolution,
which might well give us the "last man" instead, but in
the few human beings who raise themselves above the alltoo-human mass. In the first edition the Prologue had the
title "On the Overman and the Last Man." The latter
invites comparison with Huxley's Brave New World and
with Heidegger's famous discussion of Das Man in Sein
und Zeit.
1. On the Three Metamorphoses: To become more than an
all-too-human animal man must become a creator. But
this involves a break with previous norms. Beethoven, for
example, creates new norms with his works. Yet this break
is constructive only when accomplished not by one who
wants to make things easy for himself, but by one who
has previously subjected himself to the discipline of tradition. First comes the beast of burden, then the defiant
lion, then creation. "Parting from our cause when it
triumphs"-as Nietzsche did when Wagner triumphed
in Bayreuth.
2. On the Teachers of Virtue: Sunny sarcasm. Our traditional virtues consecrate stereotyped mediocrity and make
for sound sleep. But where sleep is the goal, life lacks
meaning. To bring out the full meaning of the blasphemous
final sentence, it may be well to quote from Stefan Zweig's
essay, "Friedrich Nietzsche," which is unsurpassed in its
brief sketch of Nietzsche's way of life: "No devilish torture
is lacking in this dreadful pandemonium of sickness: headaches, deafening, hammering headaches, which knock out
the reeling Nietzsche for days and prostrate him on sofa
and bed, stomach cramps with bloody vomiting, migraines,
fevers, lack of appetite, weariness, hemorrhoids, constipation, chills, night sweat-a gruesome circle. In addition,
there are his 'three-quarters blind eyes,' which, at the
least exertion, begin immediately to swell and fill with
tears and grant the intellectual worker only 'an hour and
a half of vision a day.' But Nietzsche despises this hygiene
5
of his body and works at his desk for ten hours, and
for this excess his overheated brain takes revenge with
raging headaches and a nervous overcharge; at night, when
the body has long become weary, it does not permit itself
to be turned off suddenly, 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
Nietzsche uses up fifty grams of chloral hydrate to purchase
this handful of sleep); then the stomach refuses to pay
so high a price and rebels. And now--vicious circlespasmodic vomiting, new headaches which require new
medicines, an inexorable, insatiable, passionate conflict of
the infuriated organs, which throw the thorny ball of suffering to each other as in a mad game. Never a point of
rest in this 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 end of life.
Yet he could well say, "Blessed are the sleepy ones: for
they shall soon drop off."
3. On the Afterworldly: A literal translation of "metaphysicians"; but Zarathustra takes issue with all who
deprecate this world for the greater glory of another world.
The passage about the "leap" may seem to be aimed at
Kierkegaard-of whom Nietzsche, however, heard only in
i888, too late to acquaint himself with the ideas of the
Dane.
4. On the Despisers of the Body: The psychological analysis begun in the previous chapter is here carried further.
The use of the term "ego" influenced Freud, via Ceorg
Croddeck.
5. On Enjoying and Suffering the Passions (Von den
Freuden- und Leidenschaften): The passions, called evil
because they are potentially destructive, can also be
creatively employed and enjoyed. Unlike Kant, who had
taught that "a collision of duties is unthinkable," Nietzsche
knows that a passion for justice or honesty may frequently
conflict with other virtues. But even if Rembrandt was torn
between his dedication to his art and his devotion to his
family, who would wish that he had been less passionate
a painter or poorer in compassion?
6. On the Pale Criminal: Too abstract to make sense to
Nietzsche's first readers, including even his once close
friend Rohde, much of this chapter now seems like reflections on Dostoevski's Raskolnikov. But Nietzsche had not
yet discovered Dostoevski. And some of the psychological
insights offered here go beyond Dostoevski.
7. On Reading and Writing: Compulsory education for all
has lowered cultural standards; thinkers and writers have
come to think and write for the masses. References to
novelists and artists who end up in Hollywood are lacking
because Nietzsche died in 1goo. The dance is to Nietzsche a
symbol of joy and levity, and the antithesis of gravity. He
associates it with Dionysus; but the Hindus too have a
dancing god, Shiva Nataraja-no less a contrast to the
three great monotheistic religions.
8. On the Tree on the Mountainside: Advice for adolescents.
9. On the Preachers of Death: An encounter with a sick
man, an 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.
io. On War and Warriors: The "saints of knowledge" are
above "hatred and envy"; but those still seeking knowledge
must fight, must wage war, for their thoughts. Vanquished
in this contest, they may yet find cause for triumph in
the victory of truth. They must be like warriors: brave and
without consideration for the feelings of others. In this
context, "You should love peace as a means to new warsand the short peace more than the long," is surely far
from fascism; but the epigram invites quotation out of
context. The same applies to "the good war that hallows
any cause"; we revere Plato's Republic not for its cause
(which many of us believe to have been, at least in part,
totalitarianism), but because few men, if any, have ever
waged a more brilliant war for any cause.
Being able to coin better slogans for positions he detested
than the men believing in them-and then using such
phrases in an entirely different sense-seems to have given
Nietzsche uncommon satisfaction. He felt that he was
hitting right and left, and he was horrified when he found
that the rightist parties began brazenly to use him. (For
a more detailed discussion of this chapter, see my Nietzsche,
Chapter 12, section VII.)
1L. On the New Idol: A vehement denunciation of the state
and of war in the literal sense. Straight anti-fascism, but
not in the name of any rival political creed. In Nietzsche's
own phrase: anti-political.
12. On the Flies of the Market Place: Against the mass and
its idols. Inspired by the contrast of Bayreuth and Sils
Maria, Wagner and Nietzsche. But today we are more apt
to think of Hitler than of Wagner.
13. On Chastity: One man's virtue is another man's poison.
14. On the Friend: Nietzsche's extreme individualism is
tempered by his development of the Greek conception of
friendship.
15. On the Thousand and One Goals: Except for private
notes, published much later, this chapter contains the first
mention of the will to power. What is meant in this context is clearly power over self, and the phrase is taken up
again in the chapter "On Self-Overcoming" in Part Two.
The four historical examples are: Greeks, Persians, Jews,
Germans. (For an analysis, see my Nietzsche, 6, III; for
a discussion of "The Discovery of the Will to Power," the
whole of Chapter 6.)
i6. On Love of the Neighbor: Jesus said: "Ye have heard
that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and
hate thine enemy. But I say unto you: Love your enemies.'
He took issue not with the old Mosaic commandment to
love thy neighbor-that had never been coupled with any
commandment to hate the enemy but had even been
pointedly extended to include him-but with that comfortable state of mind which makes things easy for itself while
hiding behind a facade of virtue. In this respect Nietzsche's
polemic is profoundly similar to Jesus'. But, in the words
of Zarathustra, he remains "faithful to the earth" and
deprecates the shortcomings of mutual indulgence, while
celebrating friendship between those who spur each other
on toward man's perfection. (See my Nietzsche, 12, IV.)
17. On the Way of the Creator: Zarathustra does not
preach universal anarchy: only the creator must break with
ancient norms.
18. On Little Old and Young Women: The affectionate
diminutive in the title (Weiblein) suggests at once what is
the main difference between this chapter and its vitriolic
prototype, Schopenhauer's essay Von den Weibern: a touch
of humor. In Part Three, moreover, in "The Other Dancing
Song," Nietzsche makes fun of the little old woman's
dictum that concludes the present chapter. A photograph
taken less than a year before he wrote Part One also
supplies an amusing perspective. It shows Nietzsche and
his friend Paul RMe (author of Der Ursprung der moralischen Empfindungen) pretending to pull a little cart on
which Lou SaIom6, then their mutual friend, is enthroned
with a tiny whip. We have it on her authority that the
picture was posed under Nietzsche's direction, and that he
decorated the whip with flowers. But although Nietzsche
should be defended against witless admirers and detractors,
his remarks about women are surely, more often than not,
second-hand and third-rate.
ig. On the Adder's Bite: One might wish that the following
lines were better known than the preceding chapter: "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 some good. 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." This
should be compared with Paul's Epistle to the Romans,
12:14if.: "Bless them which persecute you: bless, and
curse not. . . . Avenge not yourselves, but give place unto
wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine: I will repay,
9
saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed
him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt
heap coals of fire on his head." Nietzsche's whole chapter
is an attack on what he later called ressentiment. (See my
Nietzsche, 12, V.)
On Child and Marriage: It may require careful reading
to see that Nietzsche repudiates only certain kinds of pity
and love of the neighbor, but in this chapter he makes a
clear distinction indeed between the kind of marriage he
opposes and the kind he would applaud.
21. On Free Death: A celebration of Socrates' way of
dying as opposed to Jesus'. Nietzsche's own creeping death
was to take eleven years to destroy his body after it had
destroyed his mind.
22. On the Gift-Giving Virtue: The egoism of the powerful,
whose happiness consists in giving, is contrasted with that
of the weak. The core of the last section is quoted again in
the Preface to Ecce Homo, late in 1888: Nietzsche wants no
believers but, like Socrates, aims to help others to find themselves and surpass him.
20.
Zarathustra's Prologue
1
When Zarathustra was thirty years old he left his
home and the lake of his home and went into the
mountains. Here he enjoyed his spirit and his solitude,
and for ten years did not tire of it. But at last a change
came over his heart, and one morning he rose with the
dawn, stepped before the sun, and spoke to it thus:
"You great star, what would your happiness be had
you not those for whom you shine?
"For ten years you have climbed to my cave: you
would have tired of your light and of the journey had
it not been for me and my eagle and my serpent.
"But we waited for you every morning, took your
overflow from you, and blessed you for it.
"Behold, I am weary of my wisdom, like a bee that
has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to receive it.
"I would give away and distribute, until the wise
among men find joy once again in their folly, and the
poor in their riches.
"For that I must descend to the depths, as you do
in the evening when you go behind the sea and still
bring light to the underworld, you overrich star.
"Like you, I must go under-go down, as is said by
man, to whom I want to descend.
"So bless me then, you quiet eye that can look even
upon an all-too-great happiness without envyl
"Bless the cup that wants to overflow, that the water
may flow from it golden and carry everywhere the reflection of your delight.
"Behold, this cup wants to become empty again, and
Zarathustra wants to become man again."
Thus Zarathustra began to go under.
2
Zarathustra descended alone from the mountains, encountering no one. But when he came into the forest,
all at once there stood before him an old man who had
left his holy cottage to look for roots in the woods. And
thus spoke the old man to Zarathustra:
"No stranger to me is this wanderer: many years ago
he passed this way. Zarathustra he was called, but he
has changed. At that time you carried your ashes to
the mountains; would you now carry your fire into
the valleys? Do you not fear, to be punished as an
arsonist?
"Yes, I recognize Zarathustra. His eyes are pure, and
11
around his mouth there hides no disgust. Does he not
walk like a dancer?
"Zarathustra has changed, Zarathustra has become a
child, Zarathustra is an awakened one; what do you
now want among the sleepers? You lived in your solitude as in the sea, and the sea carried you. Alas, would
you now climb ashore? Alas, would you again drag
your own body?"
Zarathustra answered: "I love man."
"Why," asked the saint, "did I go into the forest and
the desert? Was it not because I loved man all-toomuch? Now I love God; man I love not. Man is for me
too imperfect a thing. Love of man would kill me."
Zarathustra answered: "Did I speak of love? I bring
men a gift."
"Give them nothing!" said the saint. "Rather, take
part of their load and help them to bear it-that will
be best for them, if only it does you good And if you
want to give them something, give no more than alms,
and let them beg for that"
"No," answered Zarathustra. 'I give no alms. For
that I am not poor enough."
The saint laughed at Zarathustra and spoke thus:
"Then see to it that they accept your treasures. They
are suspicious of hermits and do not believe that we
come with gifts. Our steps sound too lonely through
the streets. And what if at night, in their beds, they
hear a man walk by long before the sun has risenthey probably ask themselves, Where is the thief going?
"Do not go to man. Stay in the forest Go rather
even to the animals Why do you not want to be as I
am-a bear among bears, a bird among birds?"
"And what is the saint doing in the forest?" asked
Zarathustra.
The saint answered: "I make songs and sing them;
and when I make songs, I laugh, cry, and hum: thus I
praise God. With singing, crying, laughing, and humming, I praise the god who is my god. But what do you
bring us as a gift?"
When Zarathustra had heard these words he bade
the saint farewell and said: "What could I have to give
you? But let me go quickly lest I take something from
you!" And thus they separated, the old one and the
man, laughing as two boys laugh.
But when Zarathustra was alone he spoke thus to
his heart: "Could it be possible? This old saint in the
forest has not yet heard anything of this, that God is
deadly"
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
promised that there would be a tightrope walker. And
Zarathustra spoke thus to the people:
"I teach you the overman. Man is something that
shall be overcome. What have you done to overcome
him?
"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 beasts rather than
overcome man? What is the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. And man shall be
just that for the overman: a laughingstock or a painful
embarrassment. 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 than any
ape.
"Whoever is the wisest among you is also a mere
13
conflict and cross between plant and ghost. But do I
bid you become ghosts or plants?
"Behold, I teach you the overman. The overman is
the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the overman shall be the meaning of the earth! I beseech you,
my brothers, remain faithful to the earth, and do not
believe those who speak to you of otherworldly hopes
Poison-mixers are they, whether they know it or not.
Despisers of life are they, decaying and poisoned themselves, of whom the earth is weary: so let them go.
"Once the sin against God was the greatest sin; but
God died, and these sinners died with him. To sin
against the earth is now the most dreadful thing, and
to esteem the entrails of the 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 escape it and the earth. Oh, this soul herself was still meager, ghastly, and starved: and cruelty
was the lust of this soul. But you, too, my brothers, tell
me: what does your body proclaim of your soul? Is not
your soul poverty and filth and wretched contentment?
"Verily, a polluted stream is man. One must be a
sea to be able to receive a polluted stream without becoming unclean. Behold, I teach you the overman: he
is this sea; in him your great contempt can go under.
'What is the greatest experience you can have? It
is the hour of the great contempt. The hour in which
your happiness, too, arouses your disgust, and even
your reason and your virtue.
"The hour when you say, 'What matters my happiness? It is poverty and filth and wretched contentment.
But my happiness ought to justify existence itself.'
"The hour when you say, What matters my reason?
14
Does it crave knowledge as the lion his fooar It is
poverty and filth 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 evil All that is poverty and filth and
wretched contentment.'
"The hour when you say, 'What matters my justice?
I do not see that I am flames and fuel. But the just are
flames and fuel.'
"The hour when you say, 'What matters my pity?
Is not pity the cross on which he is nailed who loves
man? But my pity is no crucifixion.'
"Have you yet spoken thus? Have you yet cried
thus? Oh, that I might have heard you cry thus!
"Not youj sin but your thrift cries to heaven; your
meanness even in your sin cries to heaven.
"Where is the lightning to lick you with its tongue?
Where is the frenzy with which you should be inoculated?
"Behold, I teach you the overman: he is this lightning, he is this frenzy."
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" And all
the people laughed at Zarathustra. But the tightrope
walker, believing that the word concerned him, began
his performance.
4
Zarathustra, however, beheld the people and was
amazed. Then he spoke thus:
"Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman-a
rope over an abyss. A dangerous across, a dangerous
on-the-way, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous
shuddering and stopping.
15
'What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not
an end: what can be loved in man is that he is an
overture and a going under.
'I love those who do not know how to live, except
by going under, for they are those who cross over.
'I love the great despisers because they are the great
reverers and arrows of longing for the other shore.
'I love those who do not first seek behind the stars
for a reason to go under and be a sacrifice, but who
sacrifice themselves for the earth, that the earth may
some day become the overman s.
"I love him who lives to know, and who wants to
know so that the overman may live some day. And
thus he wants to go under.
'I love him who works and invents to build a house
for the overman and to prepare earth, animal, and
plant for him: for thus he wants to go under.
"I love him who loves his virtue, for virtue is the
will to go under and an arrow of longing.
'I love him who does not hold back one drop of
spirit for himself, but wants to be entirely the spirit of
his virtue: thus he strides over the bridge as spirit.
'I love him who makes his virtue his addiction and
his catastrophe: for his virtue's sake he wants to live
on and to live no longer.
'I love him who does not want to have too many
virtues. One virtue is more virtue than two, because it
is more of a noose on which his catastrophe may hang.
"I love him whose soul squanders itself, who wants
no thanks and returns none: for he always gives away
and does not want to preserve himself.
"I love him who is abashed when the dice fall to
make his fortune, and asks, 'Am I then a crooked
gambler? For he wants to perish.
"I love him who casts golden words before his deeds
and always does even more than he promises: for he
wants to go under.
"I love him who justifies future and redeems past
generations: for he wants to perish of the present.
"I love him who chastens his god because he loves
his god: for he must perish of the wrath of his god.
"I love him whose soul is deep, even in being
wounded, and who can perish of a small experience:
thus he goes gladly over the bridge.
"I love him whose soul is overfull so that he forgets
himself, and all things are in him: thus all things spell
his going under.
'I love him who has a free spirit and a free heart:
thus his head is only the entrails of his heart, but his
heart drives him to go under.
'I love all those who are as heavy drops, falling one
by one out of the dark cloud that hangs over men: they
herald the advent of lightning, and, as heralds, they
perish.
"Behold, I am a herald of the lightning and a heavy
drop from the cloud; but this lightning is called overman."
5
When Zarathustra had spoken these words he beheld
the people again and was silent. "There they stand,"
he said to his heart; "there they laugh. They do not
understand me; I am not the mouth for these ears.
Must one smash their ears before they learn to listen
with their eyes? Must one clatter like kettledrums and
preachers of repentance? Or do they believe only the
stammerer?
"They have something of which they are proud.
What do they call that which makes them proud? Education they call it; it distinguishes them from goatherds.
17
That is why they do not like to hear the word 'contempt' applied to them. Let me then address their
pride. Let me speak to them of what is most contemptible: but that is the last man."
And thus spoke Zarathustra to 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
'I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself
to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto
you: you still have chaos in yourselves.
"Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer
give birth to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicable man 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 longing?
What is a star?' thus asks the last man, and he
blinks.
"The earth has become small, and on it hops the last
man, who makes everything small. His race is as
ineradicable as the flea-beetle; the last man lives
longest.
"We have invented happiness,' say the last men,
and they blink. They have left the regions where it was
hard to live, for one needs warmth. One still loves
one's neighbor and rubs against him, for one needs
warmth.
"Becoming sick and harboring suspicion are sinful
to them: one proceeds carefully. A fool, whoever still
stumbles over stones or human beings A little poison
18
now and then: that makes for agreeable dreams. And
much poison in the end, for an agreeable death.
"One still works, for work is a form of entertainment. But one is careful lest the entertainment be too
harrowing. One no longer becomes poor or rich: both
require too much exertion. Who still wants to rule?
Who obey? Both require too much exertion.
"No shepherd and one herdl Everybody wants the
same, everybody is the same: whoever feels different
goes voluntarily into a madhouse.
"'Formerly, all the world was mad,' say the most refined, 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 soon reconciled-else it might spoil
the digestion.
"One has one's little pleasure for the day and one's
little pleasure for the night: but one has a regard for
health.
"We have invented happiness,' say the last men,
and they blink."
And here ended Zarathustra's first speech, which is
also called "the Prologue"; for at this point he was interrupted by the clamor and delight of the crowd.
"Give us this last man, 0 Zarathustra," they shouted.
"Turn us into these last men! Then we shall make you
a gift of the overmanl" And all the people jubilated
and clucked with their tongues.
But Zarathustra became sad and said to his heart:
"They do not understand me: I am not the mouth for
these ears. I seem to have lived too long in the mountains; I listened too much to brooks and trees: now I
talk to them as to goatherds. My soul is unmoved and
bright as the mountains in the morning. But they think
I am cold and I jeer and make dreadful jests. And now
19
they look at me and laugh: and as they laugh they
even hate me. There is ice in their laughter."
6
Then something happened that made every mouth
dumb and every eye rigid. For meanwhile the tightrope walker had begun his performance: he had
stepped out 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
reached the exact middle of his course the small door
opened once more and a fellow in motley clothes, looking like a jester, jumped out and followed the first one
with quick steps.
"Forward, lamefootl" he shouted in an awe-inspiring
voice. "Forward, lazybones, smuggler, pale-face, or I
shall tickle you with my heel! What are you 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
closer and closer; but when he was but one step behind, the dreadful thing happened which made every
mouth dumb and every eye rigid: he uttered a devilish
cry and jumped over the man who stood in his way.
This man, however, seeing his rival win, lost his head
and the rope, tossed away his pole, and plunged into
the depth even faster, a whirlpool of arms and legs.
The market place became as the sea when a tempest
pierces it: the people rushed apart and over one another, especially at the place where the body must hit
the ground.
Zarathustra, however, did not move; and it was right
next to him that the body fell, badly maimed and disfigured, but not yet dead. After a while the shattered
man recovered consciousness and saw Zarathustra
20
kneeling beside him. 'What are you doing here?" he
asked at last. "I have long known that the devil would
trip me. Now he will drag me to hell. Would you prevent him?"
"By my honor, friend," answered Zarathustra, "all
that of which you speak does not exist: there is no
devil and no hell. Your soul will be dead even before
your body: fear nothing further."
The man looked up suspiciously. "If you speak the
truth," he said, "I lose nothing when I lose my life. I
am not much more than a beast that has been taught to
dance by blows and a few meager morsels."
"By no means," said Zarathustra. "You have made
danger your vocation; there is nothing contemptible in
that. Now you perish of your vocation: for that I will
bury you with my own hands."
When Zarathustra had said this, the dying man answered no more; but he moved his hand as if he sought
Zarathustra's hand in thanks.
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
thought, forgetting the time. At last night came, and a
cold wind blew over the lonely one.
Then Zarathustra rose and said to his heart: "Verily,
it is a beautiful catch of fish that Zarathustra has
brought in today Not a man has he caught but a
corpse. Human existence is uncanny and still without
meaning: a jester can become man's fatality. I will
teach men the meaning of their existence-the overman, the lightning out of the dark cloud of man. But
I am still far from them, and my sense does not speak
21
to their senses. To men I am still the mean between a
fool and a corpse.
"Dark is the night, dark are Zarathustra's ways.
Come, cold, stiff companion! 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 corpse on his back and started on his way.
And he had not taken a hundred steps when a man
sneaked up to him and whispered in his ear-and behold, it was the jester from the tower. "Go away from
this town, Zarathustra," said he; "there are too many
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 believers in the true faith, and they
call you the danger of the multitude. It was your good
fortune 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 saved your own life for today. But go away
from this town, 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 lanes.
At the gate of the town he met the gravediggers;
they shone their torches in his face, recognized Zarathustra, and mocked him. "Zarathustra carries off the
dead dog: bow nice that Zarathustra has become a
gravedigger! For our hands are too clean for this roast.
Would Zarathustra steal this bite from the devil? Well
then, we wish you a good meal. If only the devil were
not a better thief than Zarathustra: he will steal them
both, he will gobble up both." And they laughed and
put their heads together.
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 house in which a light was burning.
"Like a robber, hunger overtakes me," said Zarathustra. "In forests and swamps my hunger overtakes
me, and in the deep of night. My hunger is certainly
capricious: often it comes to me only after a meal, and
today it did not come all day; where could it have
been?"
And at that Zarathustra knocked at the door of the
house. An old man appeared, carrying the light, and
asked: "Who is it that comes to me and to my bad
sleep?"
"A living and a dead man," said Zarathustra. "Give
me something to eat and to drink; I forgot about it during the day. He who feeds the hungry refreshes his own
soul: thus speaks wisdom."
The old man went away, but returned shortly and
offered Zarathustra bread and wine. "This is an evil
region for the hungry," he said; "that is why I live
here. Beast and man come to me, the hermit. But bid
your companion, too, eat and drink; he is wearier than
you are."
Zarathustra replied: 'My companion is dead; I
should hardly be able to persuade him."
"I don't care," said the old man peevishly. "Whoever knocks at my door must also take what I offer. Eat
and be off!"
Thereupon 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 came Zara-
23
thustra found himself in a deep forest, and he did not
see a path anywhere. So he laid the dead man into a
hollow tree-for he wanted to protect him from the
wolves-and he himself lay down on the ground and
the moss, his head under the tree. And soon he fell
asleep, his body weary but his soul unmoved.
9
For a long time Zarathustra slept, and not only dawn
passed over his face but the morning too. At last, however, his eyes opened: amazed, Zarathustra looked into
the woods and the silence; amazed, he looked into
himself. Then he rose quickly, like a seafarer who suddenly sees land, and jubilated, for he saw a new truth.
And thus he spoke to his heart:
"An insight has come to me: companions I need,
living ones-not dead companions and corpses whom
I carry with myself wherever I want to. Living companions I need, who follow me because they want to
follow themselves-wherever I want.
"An insight has come to me: let Zarathustra speak
not to the people but to companions. Zarathustra shall
not become the shepherd and 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: Zarathustra wants to be called a robber by the
shepherds.
"Shepherds, I say; but they call themselves the good
and the just. Shepherds, I say; but they call themselves
believers in the true faith.
"Behold the good and the just Whom do they hate
most? The man who breaks their tables of values, the
breaker, the lawbreaker; yet he is the creator.
"Behold the believers of all faiths Whom do they
24
hate most? The man who breaks their tables of values,
the breaker, the lawbreaker; yet he is the creator.
"Companions, the creator seeks, not corpses, not
herds and believers. Fellow creators, the creator seeks
-those who write new values on new tablets. Companions, the creator seeks, and fellow harvesters; for
everything about him is ripe for the harvest. But he
lacks a hundred sickles: 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 first 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 overman. 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 goal I will go-on my own way; over those
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,
25
questioning, for overhead he heard the sharp call of a
bird. And behold! 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
happy 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 mel"
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 wiserl 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 fly away-let my
pride then fly with my folly."
Thus Zarathustra began to go under.
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