Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
only believe the stammerer?
Nietzsche - v11 - Thus Spake Zarathustra
The first notes re-
lating to this part were written while he and I were
staying together in Zurich in September 1884. In
the following November, while staying at Mentone,
he began to elaborate these notes, and after a long
pause, finished the manuscript at Nice between the
end of January and the middle of February 1885.
My brother then called this part the fourth and
last; but even before, and shortly after it had been
privately printed, he wrote to me saying that he
still intended writing a fifth and sixth part, and
notes relating to these parts are now in my
possession. This fourth part (the original MS. of
which contains this note: "Only for my friends,
not for the public") is written in a particularly
personal spirit, and those few to whom he presented
a copy of it, he pledged to the strictest secrecy
concerning its contents. He often thought of
making this fourth part public also, but doubted
whether he would ever be able to do so without
considerably altering certain portions of it. At all
events he resolved to distribute this manuscript
production, of which only forty copies were printed,
)
## p. xxv (#55) #############################################
INTRODUCTION. XXV
only among those who had proved themselves
worthy of it, and it speaks eloquently of his utter
loneliness and need of sympathy in those days,
that he had occasion to present only seven copies
of his book according to this resolution.
Already at the beginning of this history I hinted
at the reasons which led my brother to select a
Persian as the incarnation of his ideal of the majestic
philosopher. His reasons, however, for choosing
Zarathustra of all others to be his mouthpiece, he
gives us in the following words:—" People have
never asked me, as they should have done, what the
name Zarathustra precisely means in my mouth,
in the mouth of the first Immoralist; for what
distinguishes that philosopher from all others in
the past is the very fact that he was exactly the
reverse of an immoralist. Zarathustra was the first
to see in the struggle between good and evil the •
essential wheel in the working of things. The
translation of morality into the metaphysical, as
force, cause, end in itself, was his work. But the
very question suggests its own answer. Zarathustra
created the most portentous error, morality, con-
sequently he should also be the first to perceive that
error, not only because he has had longer and
greater experience of the subject than any other
thinker—all history is the experimental refutation
of the theory of the so-called moral order of things:
—the more important point is that Zarathustra was
more truthful than any other thinker. In his teach-
ing alone do we meet with truthfulness upheld as
the highest virtue—i. e. : the reverse of the cowardice
of the 'idealist' who flees from reality. Zarathustra
## p. xxvi (#56) ############################################
xxvi
INTRODUCTION.
had more courage in his body than any other
thinker before or after him. To tell the truth and
to aim straight: that is the first Persian virtue. Am
I understood ? . . . The overcoming of morality
through itself—through truthfulness, the overcoming
of the moralist through his opposite-through me—:
that is what the name Zarathustra means in my
mouth. "
ELIZABETH FÖRSTER-NIETZSCHE.
NIETZSCHE ARCHIVES,
WEIMAR, December 1905.
## p. xxvi (#57) ############################################
S"
## p. xxvi (#58) ############################################
## p. 1 (#59) ###############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
FIRST PART
## p. 2 (#60) ###############################################
## p. 3 (#61) ###############################################
,
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. There he enjoyed his spirit and his
solitude, and for ten years did not weary of it.
But at last his heart changed,—and rising one
morning with the rosy dawn, he went before the
sun, and spake thus unto it:
Thou great star! What would be thy happiness
if thou hadst not those for whom thou shinest!
For ten years hast thou climbed hither unto my
cave: thou wouldst have wearied of thy light and
of the journey, had it not been for me, my eagle,
and my serpent.
But we awaited thee every morning, took from
thee thine overflow, and blessed thee for it.
Lo! I am weary of my wisdom, like the bee that
hath gathered too much honey; I need hands out-
stretched to take it
I would fain bestow and distribute, until the wise
have once more become joyous in their folly, and
the poor happy in their riches.
Therefore must I descend into the deep: as thou
doest in the evening, when thou goest behind the
sea, and givest light also to the nether-world, thou
exuberant star!
■
## p. 4 (#62) ###############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
Like thee must I go down, as men say, to whom
I shall descend.
Bless me, then, thou tranquil eye, that canst
behold even the greatest happiness without envy!
Bless the cup that is about to overflow, that the
water may flow golden out of it, and carry every-
where the reflection of thy bliss !
Lo! This cup is again going to empty itself,
and Zarathustra is again going to be a man. "
Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
1. 2.
Zarathustra went down the mountain alone, no
one meeting him. When he entered the forest,
however, there suddenly stood before him an old
man, who had left his holy cot to seek roots. And
thus spake the old man to Zarathustra:
"No stranger to me is this wanderer: many
years ago passed he by. Zarathustra he was called ;
but he hath altered.
Then thou carriedst thine ashes into the moun-
tains : wilt thou now carry thy fire into the valleys ?
Fearest thou not the incendiary's doom?
Yea, I recognise Zarathustra. Pure is his eye,
and no loathing lurketh about his mouth. Goeth
he not along like a dancer ?
Altered is Zarathustra ; a child hath Zarathustra
become; an awakened one is Zarathustra : what
wilt thou do in the land of the sleepers ?
As in the sea hast thou lived in solitude, and it
hath borne thee up. Alas, wilt thou now go ashore?
Alas, wilt thou again drag thy body thyself ? "
## p. 5 (#63) ###############################################
ZARATHUSTRAS PROLOGUE. 5
Zarathustra answered: "I love mankind. "
"Why," said the saint, "did I go into the forest
and the desert? Was it not because I loved men
far too well?
Now I love God: men, I do not love. Man is a
thing too imperfect for me. Love to man would be
fatal to me. "
Zarathustra answered: "What spake I of love!
I am bringing gifts unto men. "
"Give them nothing," said the saint. "Take
rather part of their load, and carry it along with
them—that will be most agreeable unto them: if
only it be agreeable unto thee!
If, however, thou wilt give unto them, give them
no more than an alms, and let them also beg
for it! "
"No," replied Zarathustra, " I give no alms. I
am not poor enough for that. "
The saint laughed at Zarathustra, and spake
thus: "Then see to it that they accept thy
treasures! They are distrustful of anchorites, and
do not believe that we come with gifts.
The fall of our footsteps ringeth too hollow
through their streets. And just as at night, when
they are in bed and hear a man abroad long before
sunrise, so they ask themselves concerning us:
Where goeth the thief?
Go not to men, but stay in the forest! Go rather
to the animals! Why not be like me—a bear
amongst bears, a bird amongst birds? "
"And what doeth the saint in the forest? " asked
Zarathustra.
The saint answered: "I make hymns and sing
## p. 6 (#64) ###############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
them; and in making hymns I laugh and weep
and mumble: thus do I praise God.
With singing, weeping, laughing, and mumbling
do I praise the God who is my God. But what
dost thou bring us as a gift ? "
When Zarathustra had heard these words, he
bowed to the saint and said: “What should I have
to give thee! Let me rather hurry hence lest I
take aught away from thee ! ”—And thus they
parted from one another, the old man and Zara-
thustra, laughing like schoolboys.
When Zarathustra was alone, however, he said
to his heart: “Could it be possible! This old
saint in the forest hath not yet heard of it, that
God is dead! "
When Zarathustra arrived at the nearest town
which adjoineth the forest, he found many people
assembled in the market-place; for it had been
announced that a rope-dancer would give a per-
formance. And Zarathustra spake thus unto the
people:
I teach you the Superman. Man is something
that is to be surpassed. What have ye done to
surpass man?
All beings hitherto have created something
beyond themselves : and ye want to be the ebb
of that great tide, and would rather go back to
the beast than surpass man?
What is the ape to man ? A laughing-stock, a
thing of shame. And just the same shall man be to
the Superman: a laughing-stock, a thing of shame.
## p. 7 (#65) ###############################################
zarathustra's prologue. 7
Ye have made your way from the worm to man,
and much within you is still worm. Once were ye
apes, and even yet man is more of an ape than
any of the apes.
Even the wisest among you is only a disharmony
and hybrid of plant and phantom. But do I bid
you become phantoms or plants?
Lo, I teach you the Superman!
The Superman is the meaning of the earth. Let
your will say: The Superman shall be the meaning
of the earth!
I conjure you, my brethren, remain true to the
earth, and believe not those who speak unto you of
superearthly hopes! Poisoners are they, whether
they know it or not.
Despisers of life are they, decaying ones and
poisoned ones themselves, of whom the earth is
weary: so away with them!
Once blasphemy against God was the greatest
blasphemy; but God died, and therewith also
those blasphemers. To blaspheme the earth is
now the dreadfulest sin, and to rate the heart
of the unknowable higher than the meaning of the
earth!
Once the soul looked contemptuously on the
body, and then that contempt was the supreme
thing:—the soul wished the body meagre, ghastly,
and famished. Thus it thought to escape from the
body and the earth.
Oh, that soul was itself meagre, ghastly, and
famished; and cruelty was the delight of that soul!
But ye, also, my brethren, tell me: What doth
your body say about your soul? Is your soul
## p. 8 (#66) ###############################################
8 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
not poverty and pollution and wretched seif-
complacency?
Verily, a polluted stream is man. One must be
a sea, to receive a polluted stream without becoming
impure.
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that sea;
in him can your great contempt be submerged.
What is the greatest thing ye can experience?
It is the hour of great contempt. The hour in which
even your happiness becometh loathsome unto you,
and so also your reason and virtue.
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
happiness! It is poverty and pollution and
wretched self-complacency. But my happiness
should justify existence itself! "
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
reason! Doth it long for knowledge as the lion
for his food? It is poverty and pollution and
wretched self-complacency! "
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
virtue! As yet it hath not made me passionate.
How weary I am of my good and my bad! It is
all poverty and pollution and wretched self-
complacency! "
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
justice! I do not see that I am fervour and fuel.
The just, however, are fervour and fuel! "
The hour when we say: "What good is my
pity! Is not pity the cross on which he is
nailed who loveth man? But my pity is not a
crucifixion. "
Have ye ever spoken thus? Have ye ever cried
thus? Ah! would that I had heard you crying thus!
## p. 9 (#67) ###############################################
ZARATHUSTRAS PROLOGUE. 9
It is not your sin—it is your self-satisfaction that
crieth unto heaven; your very sparingness in sin
crieth unto heaven!
Where is the lightning to lick you with its
tongue? Where is the frenzy with which ye
should be inoculated?
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that light-
ning, he is that frenzy ! —
When Zarathustra had thus spoken, one of the
people called out: "We have now heard enough
of the rope-dancer; it is time now for us to see
him! " And all the people laughed at Zarathustra.
But the rope-dancer, who thought the words applied
to him, began his performance.
4-
Zarathustra, however, looked at the people and
wondered. Then he spake thus:
Man is a rope stretched between the animal and
the Superman—a rope over an abyss.
A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a
dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling
and halting.
What is great in man is that he is a bridge and
not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is an
over-going and a down-going.
I love those that know not how to live except as
down-goers, for they are the over-goers.
I love the great despisers, because they are the
great adorers, and arrows of longirg for the other
shore.
I love those who do not first seek a reason beyond
the stars for going down and being sacrifices, but
S
## p. 10 (#68) ##############################################
IO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth of
the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and
seeketh to know in order that the Superman may
hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own down-
going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he
may build the house for the Superman, and prepare
for him earth, animal, and plant: for thus seeketh J
he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is
the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for
himself, but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his
virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination
and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is
willing to live on, or live no more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues.
One virtue is more of a virtue than two, because it
is more of a knot for one's destiny to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth
no thanks and doth not give back: for he always
bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in
his favour, and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest
player? "—for he is willing to succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in
advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than
he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and
redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to
succumb through the present ones.
## p. 11 (#69) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE. II
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he
loveth his God: for he must succumb through the
wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wound-
ing, and may succumb through a small matter:
thus goeth he willingly over the bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he for-
getteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all
things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free
heart: thus is his head only the bowels of his heart;
his heart, however, causeth his down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by
one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man:
they herald the coming of the lightning, and
succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy
drop out of the cloud: the lightning, however, is
the Superman. —
When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he
again looked at the people, and was silent. "There
they stand," said he to his heart; "there they
laugh: they understand me not; I am not the
mouth for these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may
learn to hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like
kettledrums and penitential preachers?
Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud.
What do they call it, that which maketh them
## p. 11 (#70) ##############################################
IO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth of
the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and
seeketh to know in order that the Superman may
hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own down-
going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he
may build the house for the Superman, and prepare
for him earth, animal, and plant: for thus seeketh
he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is
the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for
himself, but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his
virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination
and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is
willing to live on, or live no more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues.
One virtue is more of a virtue than two, because it
is more of a knot for one's destiny to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth
no thanks and doth not give back: for he always
bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in
his favour, and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest
player? "—for he is willing to succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in
advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than
he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and
redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to
succumb through the present ones.
## p. 11 (#71) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRAS PROLOGUE. II
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he
loveth his God: for he must succumb through the
wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wound-
ing, and may succumb through a small matter:
thus goeth he willingly over the bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he for-
getteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all
things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free
heart: thus is his head only the bowels of his heart;
his heart, however, causeth his down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by
one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man:
they herald the coming of the lightning, and
succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy
drop out of the cloud: the lightning, however, is
the Superman. —
5-
When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he
again looked at the people, and was silent. "There
they stand," said he to his heart; "there they
laugh: they understand me not; I am not the
mouth for these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may
learn to hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like
kettledrums and penitential preachers? Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud.
What do they call it, that which maketh them
## p. 11 (#72) ##############################################
IO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth of
the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and
seeketh to know in order that the Superman may
hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own down-
going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he
may build the house for the Superman, and prepare
for him earth, animal, and plant: for thus seeketh
he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is
the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for
himself, but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his
virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination
and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is
willing to live on, or live no more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues.
One virtue is more of a virtue than two, because it
is more of a knot for one's destiny to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth
no thanks and doth not give back: for he always
bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in
his favour, and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest
player? "—for he is willing to succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in
advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than
he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and
redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to
succumb through the present ones.
## p. 11 (#73) ##############################################
zarathustra's PROLOGUE. II
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he
loveth his God: for he must succumb through the
wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wound-
ing, and may succumb through a small matter:
thus goeth he willingly over the bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he for-
getteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all
things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free
heart: thus is his head only the bowels of his heart;
his heart, however, causeth his down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by
one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man:
they herald the coming of the lightning, and
succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy
drop out of the cloud: the lightning, however, is
the Superman. —
5.
When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he
again looked at the people, and was silent. "There
they stand," said he to his heart; "there they
laugh: they understand me not; I am not the
mouth for these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may
learn to hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like
kettledrums and penitential preachers? Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud.
What do they call it, that which maketh them
## p. 12 (#74) ##############################################
12 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
proud? Culture, they call it; it distinguisheth
them from the goatherds.
They dislike, therefore, to hear of' contempt' of
themselves. So I will appeal to their pride.
I will speak unto them of the most contemptible
thing: that, however, is the last man! "
And thus spake Zarathustra unto the people:
It is time for man to fix his goal. It is time for
man to plant the germ of his highest hope.
Still is his soil rich enough for it. But that soil
will one day be poor and exhausted, and no lofty
tree will any longer be able to grow thereon.
Alas! there cometh the time when man will no
longer launch the arrow of his longing beyond man
—and the string of his bow will have unlearned
to whizz!
I tell you: one must still have chaos in one, to
give birth to a dancing star. I tell you: ye have
still chaos in you.
Alas! There cometh the time when man will no
longer give birth to any star. Alas! There cometh
the time of the most despicable man, who can no
longer despise himself.
Lo! I show you the last man.
"What is love? What is creation? What is
longing? What is a star? "—so asketh the last
man and blinketh.
The earth hath then become small, and on it there
hoppeth the last man who maketh everything small.
His species is ineradicable like that of the ground-
flea; the last man liveth longest.
"We have discovered happiness"—say the last
men, and blink thereby.
## p. 13 (#75) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE. 13
They have left the regions where it is hard to
live; for they need warmth. One still loveth one's
neighbour and rubbeth against him; for one needeth
warmth.
Turning ill and being distrustful, they consider
sinful: they walk warily. He is a fool who still
stumbleth over stones or men!
A little poison now and then: that maketh
pleasant dreams. And much poison at last for a
pleasant death.
One still worketh, for work is a pastime. But
one is careful lest the pastime should hurt one.
One no longer becometh poor or rich; both are
too burdensome. Who still wanteth to rule? Who
still wanteth to obey? Both are too burdensome.
No shepherd, and one herd! Every one want-
eth the same; every one is equal: he who hath
other sentiments goeth voluntarily into the mad-
house.
"Formerly all the world was insane,"—say the
subtlest of them, and blink thereby.
They are clever and know all that hath happened:
so there is no end to their raillery. People still fall
out, but are soon reconciled—otherwise it spoileth
their stomachs.
They have their little pleasures for the day, and
their little pleasures for the night: but they have
a regard for health.
"We have discovered happiness,"—say the last
men, and blink thereby. —
And here ended the first discourse of Zarathustra,
which is also called "The Prologue": for at this
point the shouting and mirth of the multitude
## p. 14 (#76) ##############################################
14 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
interrupted him. "Give us this last man, O Zara-
thustra,"—they called out—" make us into these
last men! Then will we make thee a present of
the Superman! " And all the people exulted and
smacked their lips. Zarathustra, however, turned
sad, and said to his heart:
"They understand me not: I am not the mouth
for these ears.
Too long, perhaps, have I lived in the mountains;
too much have I hearkened unto the brooks and
trees: now do I speak unto them as unto the
goatherds.
Calm is my soul, and clear, like the mountains in
the morning. But they think me cold, and a
mocker with terrible jests.
And now do they look at me and laugh: and
while they laugh they hate me too. There is ice
in their laughter. "
Then, however, something happened which made
every mouth mute and every eye fixed. In the
meantime, of course, the rope-dancer had com-
menced his performance: he had come out at a
little door, and was going along the rope which was
stretched between two towers, so that it hung above
the market-place and the people. When he was
just midway across, the little door opened once
more, and a gaudily-dressed fellow like a buffoon
sprang out, and went rapidly after the first one.
"Go on, halt-foot," cried his frightful voice, "go
on, lazy-bones, interloper, sallow-face! —lest I tickle
thee with my heel! What dost thou here between
## p. 15 (#77) ##############################################
zarathustra's prologue. 15
the towers? In the tower is the place for thee,
thou shouldst be locked up; to one better than
thyself thou blockest the way! "—And with every
word he came nearer and nearer the first one.
When, however, he was but a step behind, there
happened the frightful thing which made every
mouth mute and every eye fixed :—he uttered a yell
like a devil, and jumped over the other who was in
his way. The latter, however, when he thus saw
his rival triumph, lost at the same time his head
and his footing on the rope; he threw his pole
away, and shot downwards faster than it, like an
eddy of arms and legs, into the depth. The market-
place and the people were like the sea when the
storm cometh on: they all flew apart and in
disorder, especially where the body was about
to fall.
Zarathustra, however, remained standing, and
just beside him fell the body, badly injured and
disfigured, but not yet dead. After a while con-
sciousness returned to the shattered man, and he
saw Zarathustra kneeling beside him. "What art
thou doing there? " said he at last, " I knew long
ago that the devil would trip me up. Now he
draggeth me to hell: wilt thou prevent him? "
"On mine honour, my friend," answered Zara-
thustra, " there is nothing of all that whereof thou
speakest: there is no devil and no hell. Thy soul
will be dead even sooner than thy body: fear, there-
fore, nothing any more! "
The man looked up distrustfully. "If thou
speakest the truth," said he, " I lose nothing when
I lose my life. I am not much more than an
## p. 16 (#78) ##############################################
16
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
animal which hath been taught to dance by blows
and scanty fare. ”
“Not at all,” said Zarathustra, “thou hast made
danger thy calling; therein there is nothing con-
temptible. Now thou perishest by thy calling :
therefore will I bury thee with mine own hands. "
When Zarathustra had said this the dying one
did not reply further; but he moved his hand as if
he sought the hand of Zarathustra in gratitude.
Meanwhile the evening came on, and the market-
place veiled itself in gloom. Then the people dis-
persed, for even curiosity and terror become fatigued.
Zarathustra, however, still sat beside the dead
man on the ground, absorbed in thought: so he
forgot the time. But at last it became night, and
a cold wind blew upon the lonely one. Then arose
Zarathustra and said to his heart:
Verily, a fine catch of fish hath Zarathustra made
to-day! It is not a man he hath caught, but a
corpse.
Sombre is human life, and as yet without mean-
ing: a buffoon may be fateful to it.
I want to teach men the sense of their existence,
which is the Superman, the lightning out of the
dark cloud-man.
But still am I far from them, and my sense
speaketh not unto their sense. To men I am still
something between a fool and a corpse.
Gloomy is the night, gloomy are the ways of
Zarathustra. Come, thou cold and stiff companion!
## p. 17 (#79) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE.
17
I carry thee to the place where I shall bury thee
with mine own hands.
8.
When Zarathustra had said this to his heart, he
put the corpse upon his shoulders and set out on
his way. Yet had he not gone a hundred steps,
when there stole a man up to him and whispered in
his ear—and lo! he that spake was the buffoon from
the tower. “Leave this town, O Zarathustra,” said he,
“there are too many here who hate thee. The good
and just hate thee, and call thee their enemy and
despiser ; the believers in the orthodox belief hate
thee, and call thee a danger to the multitude. It was
thy good fortune to be laughed at: and verily thou
spakest like a buffoon. It was thy good fortune to
associate with the dead dog ; by so humiliating
thyself thou hast saved thy life to-day. Depart,
however, from this town,—or to-morrow I shall
jump over thee, a living man over a dead one. ”
And when he had said this, the buffoon vanished;
Zarathustra, however, went on through the dark
streets.
At the gate of the town the grave-diggers met
him : they shone their torch on his face, and, re-
cognising Zarathustra, they sorely derided him.
“Zarathustra is carrying away the dead dog : a
fine thing that Zarathustra hath turned a grave-
digger! For our hands are too cleanly for that
roast. Will Zarathustra steal the bite from the
devil? Well then, good luck to the repast! If
only the devil is not a better thief than Zara-
thustra ! -he will steal them both, he will eat them
B
## p. 18 (#80) ##############################################
l8 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
both! " And they laughed among themselves, and
put their heads together.
Zarathustra made no answer thereto, but went
on his way. When he had gone on for two hours,
past forests and swamps, he had heard too much
of the hungry howling of the wolves, and he him-
self became a-hungry. So he halted at a lonely
house in which a light was burning.
"Hunger attacketh me," said Zarathustra, " like
a robber. Among forests and swamps my hunger
attacketh me, and late in the night.
"Strange humours hath my hunger. Often it
cometh to me only after a repast, and all day it
hath failed to come: where hath it been? "
And thereupon Zarathustra knocked at the door
of the house. An old man appeared, who carried
a light, and asked : " Who cometh unto me and my
bad sleep? "
"A living man and a dead one," said Zarathustra.
"Give me something to eat and drink, I forgot it
during the day. He that feedeth the hungry re-
fresheth his own soul, saith wisdom. "
The old man withdrew, but came back im-
mediately and offered Zarathustra bread and wine.
lating to this part were written while he and I were
staying together in Zurich in September 1884. In
the following November, while staying at Mentone,
he began to elaborate these notes, and after a long
pause, finished the manuscript at Nice between the
end of January and the middle of February 1885.
My brother then called this part the fourth and
last; but even before, and shortly after it had been
privately printed, he wrote to me saying that he
still intended writing a fifth and sixth part, and
notes relating to these parts are now in my
possession. This fourth part (the original MS. of
which contains this note: "Only for my friends,
not for the public") is written in a particularly
personal spirit, and those few to whom he presented
a copy of it, he pledged to the strictest secrecy
concerning its contents. He often thought of
making this fourth part public also, but doubted
whether he would ever be able to do so without
considerably altering certain portions of it. At all
events he resolved to distribute this manuscript
production, of which only forty copies were printed,
)
## p. xxv (#55) #############################################
INTRODUCTION. XXV
only among those who had proved themselves
worthy of it, and it speaks eloquently of his utter
loneliness and need of sympathy in those days,
that he had occasion to present only seven copies
of his book according to this resolution.
Already at the beginning of this history I hinted
at the reasons which led my brother to select a
Persian as the incarnation of his ideal of the majestic
philosopher. His reasons, however, for choosing
Zarathustra of all others to be his mouthpiece, he
gives us in the following words:—" People have
never asked me, as they should have done, what the
name Zarathustra precisely means in my mouth,
in the mouth of the first Immoralist; for what
distinguishes that philosopher from all others in
the past is the very fact that he was exactly the
reverse of an immoralist. Zarathustra was the first
to see in the struggle between good and evil the •
essential wheel in the working of things. The
translation of morality into the metaphysical, as
force, cause, end in itself, was his work. But the
very question suggests its own answer. Zarathustra
created the most portentous error, morality, con-
sequently he should also be the first to perceive that
error, not only because he has had longer and
greater experience of the subject than any other
thinker—all history is the experimental refutation
of the theory of the so-called moral order of things:
—the more important point is that Zarathustra was
more truthful than any other thinker. In his teach-
ing alone do we meet with truthfulness upheld as
the highest virtue—i. e. : the reverse of the cowardice
of the 'idealist' who flees from reality. Zarathustra
## p. xxvi (#56) ############################################
xxvi
INTRODUCTION.
had more courage in his body than any other
thinker before or after him. To tell the truth and
to aim straight: that is the first Persian virtue. Am
I understood ? . . . The overcoming of morality
through itself—through truthfulness, the overcoming
of the moralist through his opposite-through me—:
that is what the name Zarathustra means in my
mouth. "
ELIZABETH FÖRSTER-NIETZSCHE.
NIETZSCHE ARCHIVES,
WEIMAR, December 1905.
## p. xxvi (#57) ############################################
S"
## p. xxvi (#58) ############################################
## p. 1 (#59) ###############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
FIRST PART
## p. 2 (#60) ###############################################
## p. 3 (#61) ###############################################
,
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. There he enjoyed his spirit and his
solitude, and for ten years did not weary of it.
But at last his heart changed,—and rising one
morning with the rosy dawn, he went before the
sun, and spake thus unto it:
Thou great star! What would be thy happiness
if thou hadst not those for whom thou shinest!
For ten years hast thou climbed hither unto my
cave: thou wouldst have wearied of thy light and
of the journey, had it not been for me, my eagle,
and my serpent.
But we awaited thee every morning, took from
thee thine overflow, and blessed thee for it.
Lo! I am weary of my wisdom, like the bee that
hath gathered too much honey; I need hands out-
stretched to take it
I would fain bestow and distribute, until the wise
have once more become joyous in their folly, and
the poor happy in their riches.
Therefore must I descend into the deep: as thou
doest in the evening, when thou goest behind the
sea, and givest light also to the nether-world, thou
exuberant star!
■
## p. 4 (#62) ###############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
Like thee must I go down, as men say, to whom
I shall descend.
Bless me, then, thou tranquil eye, that canst
behold even the greatest happiness without envy!
Bless the cup that is about to overflow, that the
water may flow golden out of it, and carry every-
where the reflection of thy bliss !
Lo! This cup is again going to empty itself,
and Zarathustra is again going to be a man. "
Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
1. 2.
Zarathustra went down the mountain alone, no
one meeting him. When he entered the forest,
however, there suddenly stood before him an old
man, who had left his holy cot to seek roots. And
thus spake the old man to Zarathustra:
"No stranger to me is this wanderer: many
years ago passed he by. Zarathustra he was called ;
but he hath altered.
Then thou carriedst thine ashes into the moun-
tains : wilt thou now carry thy fire into the valleys ?
Fearest thou not the incendiary's doom?
Yea, I recognise Zarathustra. Pure is his eye,
and no loathing lurketh about his mouth. Goeth
he not along like a dancer ?
Altered is Zarathustra ; a child hath Zarathustra
become; an awakened one is Zarathustra : what
wilt thou do in the land of the sleepers ?
As in the sea hast thou lived in solitude, and it
hath borne thee up. Alas, wilt thou now go ashore?
Alas, wilt thou again drag thy body thyself ? "
## p. 5 (#63) ###############################################
ZARATHUSTRAS PROLOGUE. 5
Zarathustra answered: "I love mankind. "
"Why," said the saint, "did I go into the forest
and the desert? Was it not because I loved men
far too well?
Now I love God: men, I do not love. Man is a
thing too imperfect for me. Love to man would be
fatal to me. "
Zarathustra answered: "What spake I of love!
I am bringing gifts unto men. "
"Give them nothing," said the saint. "Take
rather part of their load, and carry it along with
them—that will be most agreeable unto them: if
only it be agreeable unto thee!
If, however, thou wilt give unto them, give them
no more than an alms, and let them also beg
for it! "
"No," replied Zarathustra, " I give no alms. I
am not poor enough for that. "
The saint laughed at Zarathustra, and spake
thus: "Then see to it that they accept thy
treasures! They are distrustful of anchorites, and
do not believe that we come with gifts.
The fall of our footsteps ringeth too hollow
through their streets. And just as at night, when
they are in bed and hear a man abroad long before
sunrise, so they ask themselves concerning us:
Where goeth the thief?
Go not to men, but stay in the forest! Go rather
to the animals! Why not be like me—a bear
amongst bears, a bird amongst birds? "
"And what doeth the saint in the forest? " asked
Zarathustra.
The saint answered: "I make hymns and sing
## p. 6 (#64) ###############################################
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
them; and in making hymns I laugh and weep
and mumble: thus do I praise God.
With singing, weeping, laughing, and mumbling
do I praise the God who is my God. But what
dost thou bring us as a gift ? "
When Zarathustra had heard these words, he
bowed to the saint and said: “What should I have
to give thee! Let me rather hurry hence lest I
take aught away from thee ! ”—And thus they
parted from one another, the old man and Zara-
thustra, laughing like schoolboys.
When Zarathustra was alone, however, he said
to his heart: “Could it be possible! This old
saint in the forest hath not yet heard of it, that
God is dead! "
When Zarathustra arrived at the nearest town
which adjoineth the forest, he found many people
assembled in the market-place; for it had been
announced that a rope-dancer would give a per-
formance. And Zarathustra spake thus unto the
people:
I teach you the Superman. Man is something
that is to be surpassed. What have ye done to
surpass man?
All beings hitherto have created something
beyond themselves : and ye want to be the ebb
of that great tide, and would rather go back to
the beast than surpass man?
What is the ape to man ? A laughing-stock, a
thing of shame. And just the same shall man be to
the Superman: a laughing-stock, a thing of shame.
## p. 7 (#65) ###############################################
zarathustra's prologue. 7
Ye have made your way from the worm to man,
and much within you is still worm. Once were ye
apes, and even yet man is more of an ape than
any of the apes.
Even the wisest among you is only a disharmony
and hybrid of plant and phantom. But do I bid
you become phantoms or plants?
Lo, I teach you the Superman!
The Superman is the meaning of the earth. Let
your will say: The Superman shall be the meaning
of the earth!
I conjure you, my brethren, remain true to the
earth, and believe not those who speak unto you of
superearthly hopes! Poisoners are they, whether
they know it or not.
Despisers of life are they, decaying ones and
poisoned ones themselves, of whom the earth is
weary: so away with them!
Once blasphemy against God was the greatest
blasphemy; but God died, and therewith also
those blasphemers. To blaspheme the earth is
now the dreadfulest sin, and to rate the heart
of the unknowable higher than the meaning of the
earth!
Once the soul looked contemptuously on the
body, and then that contempt was the supreme
thing:—the soul wished the body meagre, ghastly,
and famished. Thus it thought to escape from the
body and the earth.
Oh, that soul was itself meagre, ghastly, and
famished; and cruelty was the delight of that soul!
But ye, also, my brethren, tell me: What doth
your body say about your soul? Is your soul
## p. 8 (#66) ###############################################
8 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
not poverty and pollution and wretched seif-
complacency?
Verily, a polluted stream is man. One must be
a sea, to receive a polluted stream without becoming
impure.
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that sea;
in him can your great contempt be submerged.
What is the greatest thing ye can experience?
It is the hour of great contempt. The hour in which
even your happiness becometh loathsome unto you,
and so also your reason and virtue.
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
happiness! It is poverty and pollution and
wretched self-complacency. But my happiness
should justify existence itself! "
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
reason! Doth it long for knowledge as the lion
for his food? It is poverty and pollution and
wretched self-complacency! "
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
virtue! As yet it hath not made me passionate.
How weary I am of my good and my bad! It is
all poverty and pollution and wretched self-
complacency! "
The hour when ye say: "What good is my
justice! I do not see that I am fervour and fuel.
The just, however, are fervour and fuel! "
The hour when we say: "What good is my
pity! Is not pity the cross on which he is
nailed who loveth man? But my pity is not a
crucifixion. "
Have ye ever spoken thus? Have ye ever cried
thus? Ah! would that I had heard you crying thus!
## p. 9 (#67) ###############################################
ZARATHUSTRAS PROLOGUE. 9
It is not your sin—it is your self-satisfaction that
crieth unto heaven; your very sparingness in sin
crieth unto heaven!
Where is the lightning to lick you with its
tongue? Where is the frenzy with which ye
should be inoculated?
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that light-
ning, he is that frenzy ! —
When Zarathustra had thus spoken, one of the
people called out: "We have now heard enough
of the rope-dancer; it is time now for us to see
him! " And all the people laughed at Zarathustra.
But the rope-dancer, who thought the words applied
to him, began his performance.
4-
Zarathustra, however, looked at the people and
wondered. Then he spake thus:
Man is a rope stretched between the animal and
the Superman—a rope over an abyss.
A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a
dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling
and halting.
What is great in man is that he is a bridge and
not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is an
over-going and a down-going.
I love those that know not how to live except as
down-goers, for they are the over-goers.
I love the great despisers, because they are the
great adorers, and arrows of longirg for the other
shore.
I love those who do not first seek a reason beyond
the stars for going down and being sacrifices, but
S
## p. 10 (#68) ##############################################
IO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth of
the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and
seeketh to know in order that the Superman may
hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own down-
going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he
may build the house for the Superman, and prepare
for him earth, animal, and plant: for thus seeketh J
he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is
the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for
himself, but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his
virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination
and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is
willing to live on, or live no more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues.
One virtue is more of a virtue than two, because it
is more of a knot for one's destiny to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth
no thanks and doth not give back: for he always
bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in
his favour, and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest
player? "—for he is willing to succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in
advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than
he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and
redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to
succumb through the present ones.
## p. 11 (#69) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE. II
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he
loveth his God: for he must succumb through the
wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wound-
ing, and may succumb through a small matter:
thus goeth he willingly over the bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he for-
getteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all
things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free
heart: thus is his head only the bowels of his heart;
his heart, however, causeth his down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by
one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man:
they herald the coming of the lightning, and
succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy
drop out of the cloud: the lightning, however, is
the Superman. —
When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he
again looked at the people, and was silent. "There
they stand," said he to his heart; "there they
laugh: they understand me not; I am not the
mouth for these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may
learn to hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like
kettledrums and penitential preachers?
Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud.
What do they call it, that which maketh them
## p. 11 (#70) ##############################################
IO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth of
the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and
seeketh to know in order that the Superman may
hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own down-
going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he
may build the house for the Superman, and prepare
for him earth, animal, and plant: for thus seeketh
he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is
the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for
himself, but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his
virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination
and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is
willing to live on, or live no more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues.
One virtue is more of a virtue than two, because it
is more of a knot for one's destiny to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth
no thanks and doth not give back: for he always
bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in
his favour, and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest
player? "—for he is willing to succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in
advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than
he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and
redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to
succumb through the present ones.
## p. 11 (#71) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRAS PROLOGUE. II
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he
loveth his God: for he must succumb through the
wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wound-
ing, and may succumb through a small matter:
thus goeth he willingly over the bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he for-
getteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all
things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free
heart: thus is his head only the bowels of his heart;
his heart, however, causeth his down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by
one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man:
they herald the coming of the lightning, and
succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy
drop out of the cloud: the lightning, however, is
the Superman. —
5-
When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he
again looked at the people, and was silent. "There
they stand," said he to his heart; "there they
laugh: they understand me not; I am not the
mouth for these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may
learn to hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like
kettledrums and penitential preachers? Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud.
What do they call it, that which maketh them
## p. 11 (#72) ##############################################
IO THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth of
the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and
seeketh to know in order that the Superman may
hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own down-
going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he
may build the house for the Superman, and prepare
for him earth, animal, and plant: for thus seeketh
he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is
the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for
himself, but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his
virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination
and destiny: thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is
willing to live on, or live no more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues.
One virtue is more of a virtue than two, because it
is more of a knot for one's destiny to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth
no thanks and doth not give back: for he always
bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in
his favour, and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest
player? "—for he is willing to succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in
advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than
he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and
redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to
succumb through the present ones.
## p. 11 (#73) ##############################################
zarathustra's PROLOGUE. II
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he
loveth his God: for he must succumb through the
wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wound-
ing, and may succumb through a small matter:
thus goeth he willingly over the bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he for-
getteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all
things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free
heart: thus is his head only the bowels of his heart;
his heart, however, causeth his down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by
one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man:
they herald the coming of the lightning, and
succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy
drop out of the cloud: the lightning, however, is
the Superman. —
5.
When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he
again looked at the people, and was silent. "There
they stand," said he to his heart; "there they
laugh: they understand me not; I am not the
mouth for these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may
learn to hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like
kettledrums and penitential preachers? Or do they
only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud.
What do they call it, that which maketh them
## p. 12 (#74) ##############################################
12 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
proud? Culture, they call it; it distinguisheth
them from the goatherds.
They dislike, therefore, to hear of' contempt' of
themselves. So I will appeal to their pride.
I will speak unto them of the most contemptible
thing: that, however, is the last man! "
And thus spake Zarathustra unto the people:
It is time for man to fix his goal. It is time for
man to plant the germ of his highest hope.
Still is his soil rich enough for it. But that soil
will one day be poor and exhausted, and no lofty
tree will any longer be able to grow thereon.
Alas! there cometh the time when man will no
longer launch the arrow of his longing beyond man
—and the string of his bow will have unlearned
to whizz!
I tell you: one must still have chaos in one, to
give birth to a dancing star. I tell you: ye have
still chaos in you.
Alas! There cometh the time when man will no
longer give birth to any star. Alas! There cometh
the time of the most despicable man, who can no
longer despise himself.
Lo! I show you the last man.
"What is love? What is creation? What is
longing? What is a star? "—so asketh the last
man and blinketh.
The earth hath then become small, and on it there
hoppeth the last man who maketh everything small.
His species is ineradicable like that of the ground-
flea; the last man liveth longest.
"We have discovered happiness"—say the last
men, and blink thereby.
## p. 13 (#75) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE. 13
They have left the regions where it is hard to
live; for they need warmth. One still loveth one's
neighbour and rubbeth against him; for one needeth
warmth.
Turning ill and being distrustful, they consider
sinful: they walk warily. He is a fool who still
stumbleth over stones or men!
A little poison now and then: that maketh
pleasant dreams. And much poison at last for a
pleasant death.
One still worketh, for work is a pastime. But
one is careful lest the pastime should hurt one.
One no longer becometh poor or rich; both are
too burdensome. Who still wanteth to rule? Who
still wanteth to obey? Both are too burdensome.
No shepherd, and one herd! Every one want-
eth the same; every one is equal: he who hath
other sentiments goeth voluntarily into the mad-
house.
"Formerly all the world was insane,"—say the
subtlest of them, and blink thereby.
They are clever and know all that hath happened:
so there is no end to their raillery. People still fall
out, but are soon reconciled—otherwise it spoileth
their stomachs.
They have their little pleasures for the day, and
their little pleasures for the night: but they have
a regard for health.
"We have discovered happiness,"—say the last
men, and blink thereby. —
And here ended the first discourse of Zarathustra,
which is also called "The Prologue": for at this
point the shouting and mirth of the multitude
## p. 14 (#76) ##############################################
14 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
interrupted him. "Give us this last man, O Zara-
thustra,"—they called out—" make us into these
last men! Then will we make thee a present of
the Superman! " And all the people exulted and
smacked their lips. Zarathustra, however, turned
sad, and said to his heart:
"They understand me not: I am not the mouth
for these ears.
Too long, perhaps, have I lived in the mountains;
too much have I hearkened unto the brooks and
trees: now do I speak unto them as unto the
goatherds.
Calm is my soul, and clear, like the mountains in
the morning. But they think me cold, and a
mocker with terrible jests.
And now do they look at me and laugh: and
while they laugh they hate me too. There is ice
in their laughter. "
Then, however, something happened which made
every mouth mute and every eye fixed. In the
meantime, of course, the rope-dancer had com-
menced his performance: he had come out at a
little door, and was going along the rope which was
stretched between two towers, so that it hung above
the market-place and the people. When he was
just midway across, the little door opened once
more, and a gaudily-dressed fellow like a buffoon
sprang out, and went rapidly after the first one.
"Go on, halt-foot," cried his frightful voice, "go
on, lazy-bones, interloper, sallow-face! —lest I tickle
thee with my heel! What dost thou here between
## p. 15 (#77) ##############################################
zarathustra's prologue. 15
the towers? In the tower is the place for thee,
thou shouldst be locked up; to one better than
thyself thou blockest the way! "—And with every
word he came nearer and nearer the first one.
When, however, he was but a step behind, there
happened the frightful thing which made every
mouth mute and every eye fixed :—he uttered a yell
like a devil, and jumped over the other who was in
his way. The latter, however, when he thus saw
his rival triumph, lost at the same time his head
and his footing on the rope; he threw his pole
away, and shot downwards faster than it, like an
eddy of arms and legs, into the depth. The market-
place and the people were like the sea when the
storm cometh on: they all flew apart and in
disorder, especially where the body was about
to fall.
Zarathustra, however, remained standing, and
just beside him fell the body, badly injured and
disfigured, but not yet dead. After a while con-
sciousness returned to the shattered man, and he
saw Zarathustra kneeling beside him. "What art
thou doing there? " said he at last, " I knew long
ago that the devil would trip me up. Now he
draggeth me to hell: wilt thou prevent him? "
"On mine honour, my friend," answered Zara-
thustra, " there is nothing of all that whereof thou
speakest: there is no devil and no hell. Thy soul
will be dead even sooner than thy body: fear, there-
fore, nothing any more! "
The man looked up distrustfully. "If thou
speakest the truth," said he, " I lose nothing when
I lose my life. I am not much more than an
## p. 16 (#78) ##############################################
16
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
animal which hath been taught to dance by blows
and scanty fare. ”
“Not at all,” said Zarathustra, “thou hast made
danger thy calling; therein there is nothing con-
temptible. Now thou perishest by thy calling :
therefore will I bury thee with mine own hands. "
When Zarathustra had said this the dying one
did not reply further; but he moved his hand as if
he sought the hand of Zarathustra in gratitude.
Meanwhile the evening came on, and the market-
place veiled itself in gloom. Then the people dis-
persed, for even curiosity and terror become fatigued.
Zarathustra, however, still sat beside the dead
man on the ground, absorbed in thought: so he
forgot the time. But at last it became night, and
a cold wind blew upon the lonely one. Then arose
Zarathustra and said to his heart:
Verily, a fine catch of fish hath Zarathustra made
to-day! It is not a man he hath caught, but a
corpse.
Sombre is human life, and as yet without mean-
ing: a buffoon may be fateful to it.
I want to teach men the sense of their existence,
which is the Superman, the lightning out of the
dark cloud-man.
But still am I far from them, and my sense
speaketh not unto their sense. To men I am still
something between a fool and a corpse.
Gloomy is the night, gloomy are the ways of
Zarathustra. Come, thou cold and stiff companion!
## p. 17 (#79) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE.
17
I carry thee to the place where I shall bury thee
with mine own hands.
8.
When Zarathustra had said this to his heart, he
put the corpse upon his shoulders and set out on
his way. Yet had he not gone a hundred steps,
when there stole a man up to him and whispered in
his ear—and lo! he that spake was the buffoon from
the tower. “Leave this town, O Zarathustra,” said he,
“there are too many here who hate thee. The good
and just hate thee, and call thee their enemy and
despiser ; the believers in the orthodox belief hate
thee, and call thee a danger to the multitude. It was
thy good fortune to be laughed at: and verily thou
spakest like a buffoon. It was thy good fortune to
associate with the dead dog ; by so humiliating
thyself thou hast saved thy life to-day. Depart,
however, from this town,—or to-morrow I shall
jump over thee, a living man over a dead one. ”
And when he had said this, the buffoon vanished;
Zarathustra, however, went on through the dark
streets.
At the gate of the town the grave-diggers met
him : they shone their torch on his face, and, re-
cognising Zarathustra, they sorely derided him.
“Zarathustra is carrying away the dead dog : a
fine thing that Zarathustra hath turned a grave-
digger! For our hands are too cleanly for that
roast. Will Zarathustra steal the bite from the
devil? Well then, good luck to the repast! If
only the devil is not a better thief than Zara-
thustra ! -he will steal them both, he will eat them
B
## p. 18 (#80) ##############################################
l8 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
both! " And they laughed among themselves, and
put their heads together.
Zarathustra made no answer thereto, but went
on his way. When he had gone on for two hours,
past forests and swamps, he had heard too much
of the hungry howling of the wolves, and he him-
self became a-hungry. So he halted at a lonely
house in which a light was burning.
"Hunger attacketh me," said Zarathustra, " like
a robber. Among forests and swamps my hunger
attacketh me, and late in the night.
"Strange humours hath my hunger. Often it
cometh to me only after a repast, and all day it
hath failed to come: where hath it been? "
And thereupon Zarathustra knocked at the door
of the house. An old man appeared, who carried
a light, and asked : " Who cometh unto me and my
bad sleep? "
"A living man and a dead one," said Zarathustra.
"Give me something to eat and drink, I forgot it
during the day. He that feedeth the hungry re-
fresheth his own soul, saith wisdom. "
The old man withdrew, but came back im-
mediately and offered Zarathustra bread and wine.
