hath she become
overawake?
Nietzsche - v11 - Thus Spake Zarathustra
It is worth while living on the earth: one
day, one festival with Zarathustra, hath taught me
to love the earth.
'Was that— life? ' will I say unto death. 'Well!
Once more! '
My friends, what think ye? Will ye not, like
me, say unto death: 'Was that—life? For the
sake of Zarathustra, well! Once more! '"
Thus spake the ugliest man; it was not, however,
far from midnight. And what took place then,
think ye? As soon as the higher men heard his
question, they became all at once conscious of their
transformation and convalescence, and of him who
was the cause thereof: then cMd they rush up to
## p. 390 (#606) ############################################
390 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Zarathustra, thanking, honouring, caressing him,
and kissing his hands, each in his own peculiar
way; so that some laughed and some wept. The
old soothsayer, however, danced with delight; and
though he was then, as some narrators suppose, full
of sweet wine, he was certainly still fuller of sweet
life, and had renounced all weariness. There are
even those who narrate that the ass then danced:
for not in vain had the ugliest man previously given
it wine to drink. That may be the case, or it may
be otherwise; and if in truth the ass did not dance
that evening, there nevertheless happened then
greater and rarer wonders than the dancing of an
ass would have been. In short, as the proverb of
Zarathustra saith: "What doth it matter! "
2.
When, however, this took place with the ugliest
man, Zarathustra stood there like one drunken:
his glance dulled, his tongue faltered and his feet
staggered. And who could divine what thoughts
then passed through Zarathustra's soul? Ap-
parently, however, his spirit retreated and fled in
advance and was in remote distances, and as it
were "wandering on high mountain-ridges," as it
standeth written, "'twixt two seas,
—Wandering 'twixt the past and the future as
a heavy cloud. " Gradually, however, while the
higher men held him in their arms, he came back
to himself a little, and resisted with his hands the
crowd of the honouring and caring ones; but he
did not speak. All at once, however, he turned
his head quickly, for he seemed to hear something:
## p. 391 (#607) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 391
then laid he his finger on his mouth and said:
"Come! "
And immediately it became still and mysterious
round about; from the depth however there came
up slowly the sound of a clock-bell. Zarathustra
listened thereto, like the higher men; then, however,
laid he his finger on his mouth the second time, and
said again: "Come! Come! It is getting on to
midnight! "—and his voice had changed. But still
he had not moved from the spot. Then it became
yet stiller and more mysterious, and everything
hearkened, even the ass, and Zarathustra's noble
animals, the eagle and the serpent,—likewise the
cave of Zarathustra and the big cool moon, and
the night itself. Zarathustra, however, laid his
hand upon his mouth for the third time, and said:
Come! Come! Come! Let us now wander!
It is the hour: let us wander into the night!
Ye higher men, it is getting on to midnight:
then will I say something into your ears, as that
old clock-bell saith it into mine ear,—
—As mysteriously, as frightfully, and as cordially
as that midnight clock-bell speaketh it to me, which
hath experienced more than one man:
—Which hath already counted the smarting
throbbings of your fathers' hearts—ah! ah! how it
sigheth! how it laugheth in its dream! the old, deep,
deep midnight!
Hush! Hush! Then is there many a thing
heard which may not be heard by day; now how-
## p. 392 (#608) ############################################
392 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
ever, in the cool air, when even all the tumult of
your hearts hath become still, -
-Now doth it speak, now is it heard, now doth it
steal into overwakeful, nocturnal souls : ah ! ah! how
the midnight sigheth! how it laugheth in its dream!
-Hearest thou not how it mysteriously, fright-
fully, and cordially speaketh unto thee, the old
deep, deep midnight?
O man, take heed !
Woe to me! Whither hath time gone? Have
I not sunk into deep wells? The world sleepeth-
Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth.
Rather will I die, rather will I die, than say unto
you what my midnight-heart now thinketh.
Already have I died. It is all over. Spider, why
spinnest thou around me? Wilt thou have blood ?
Ah! Ah! The dew falleth, the hour cometh-
- The hour in which I frost and freeze, which
asketh and asketh and asketh : “Who hath suffi-
cient courage for it?
-Who is to be inaster of the world? Who
is going to say: Thus shall ye flow, ye great and
small streams! ”
-The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher
man, take heed! this talk is for fine ears, for thine
ears-what saith deep midnight's voice indeed ?
It carrieth me away, my soul danceth. Day's-
work! Day's-work! Who is to be master of the
world?
The moon is cool, the wind is still. Ah! Ah!
## p. 393 (#609) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 393
Have ye already flown high enough? Ye have
danced: a leg, nevertheless, is not a wing.
Ye good dancers, now is all delight over: wine
hath become lees, every cup hath become brittle,
the sepulchres mutter.
Ye have not flown high enough: now do the
sepulchres mutter: "Free the dead! Why is it so
long night? Doth not the moon make us drunken? "
Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the
corpses! Ah, why doth the worm still burrow?
There approacheth, there approacheth, the hour,—
—There boometh the clock-bell, there thrilleth
still the heart, there burroweth still the wood-worm,
the heart-worm. Ah! Ah! The world is deep!
6.
Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy
drunken, ranunculine tone! —how long, how far hath
come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from
the ponds of love!
Thou old clock-bell; thou sweet lyre! Every pain
hath torn thy heart, father-pain, fathers'-pain, fore-
fathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe,—
—Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon,
like mine anchorite heart—now sayest thou: The
world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth
brown,
—Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness.
Ye higher men, do ye not feel it? There welleth up
mysteriously an odour,
—A perfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed,
brown, gold-wine-odour of old happiness,
—Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which
## p. 393 (#610) ############################################
392 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
ever, in the cool air, when even all the tumult of
your hearts hath become still,—
—Now doth it speak, now is it heard, now doth it
steal into overwakeful, nocturnal souls : ah ! ah ! how
the midnight sigheth! how it laugheth in its dream!
—Hearest thou not how it mysteriously, fright-
fully, and cordially speaketh unto thee, the old
deep, deep midnight?
O man, take heed!
4-
Woe to me! Whither hath time gone? Have
I not sunk into deep wells? The world sleepeth—
Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth.
Rather will I die, rather will I die, than say unto
you what my midnight-heart now thinketh.
Already have I died. It is all over. Spider, why
spinnest thou around me? Wilt thou have blood?
Ah! Ah! The dew falleth, the hour cometh—
—The hour in which I frost and freeze, which
asketh and asketh and asketh: "Who hath suffi-
cient courage for it?
—Who is to be master of the world? Who
is going to say: Thus shall ye flow, ye great and
small streams! "
—The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher
man, take heed! this talk is for fine ears, for thine
ears—what saith deep midnights voice indeed?
5-
It carrieth me away, my soul danceth. Days-
work! Day's-work! Who is to be master of the
world?
The moon is cool, the wind is still. Ah! Ah!
""
1
## p. 393 (#611) ############################################
I. XXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 393
Have ye already flown high enough? Ye have
danced: a leg, nevertheless, is not a wing.
Ye good dancers, now is all delight over: wine
hath become lees, every cup hath become brittle,
the sepulchres mutter.
Ye have not flown high enough: now do the
sepulchres mutter: "Free the dead! Why is it so
long night? Doth not the moon make us drunken? "
Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the
corpses! Ah, why doth the worm still burrow?
There approacheth, there approacheth, the hour,—
—There boometh the clock-bell, there thrilleth
still the heart, there burroweth still the wood-worm,
the heart-worm. Ah! Ah! The world is deep!
Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy
drunken, ranunculine tone! —how long, how far hath
come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from
the ponds of love!
Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain
hath torn thy heart, father-pain, fathers'-pain, fore-
fathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe,—
—Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon,
like mine anchorite heart—now sayest thou: The
world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth
brown,
—Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness.
Ye higher men, do ye not feel it? There welleth up
mysteriously an odour,
—A perfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed,
brown, gold-wine-odour of old happiness,
—Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which
## p. 394 (#612) ############################################
394
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
singeth : the world is deep, and deeper than the day
could read !
7.
Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am too
pure for thee. Touch me not! Hath not my
world just now become perfect ?
My skin is too pure for thy hands. Leave me
alone, thou dull, doltish, stupid day! Is not the
midnight brighter ?
The purest are to be masters of the world, the
least known, the strongest, the midnight-souls, who
are brighter and deeper than any day.
O day, thou gropest for me? Thou feelest for
my happiness ? For thee am I rich, lonesome, a
treasure-pit, a gold chamber?
O world, thou wantest me? Am I worldly for
thee? Am I spiritual for thee? Am I divine for
thee? But day and world, ye are too coarse,
-Have cleverer hands, grasp after deeper happi-
ness, after deeper unhappiness, grasp after some
God; grasp not after me :
-Mine unhappiness, my happiness is deep, thou
strange day, but yet am I no God, no God's-hell :
deep is its woe.
God's woe is deeper, thou strange world! Grasp
at God's woe, not at me! What am I! A drunken
sweet lyre,—
-A midnight-lyre, a bell-frog, which no one
understandeth, but which must speak before deaf
ones, ye higher men! For ye do not understand me!
## p. 395 (#613) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG.
395
Gone! Gone! O youth! O noontide! O after-
noon! Now have come evening and night and
midnight,—the dog howleth, the wind :
-Is the wind not a dog? It whineth, it barketh,
it howleth. Ah! Ah! how she sigheth! how she
laugheth, how she wheezeth and panteth, the mid-
night!
How she just now speaketh soberly, this drunken
poetess ! hath she perhaps overdrunk her drunken-
ness ?
hath she become overawake? doth she rumi-
nate ?
-Her woe doth she ruminate over, in a dream,
the old, deep midnight-and still more her joy.
For joy, although woe be deep, joy is deeper still
than grief can be.
9.
Thou grape-vine! Why dost thou praise me?
Have I not cut thee! I am cruel, thou bleedest—;
what meaneth thy praise of my drunken cruelty ?
“Whatever hath become perfect, everything
mature-wanteth to die! ” so sayest thou. Blessed,
blessed be the vintner's knife! But everything
immature wanteth to live: alas !
Woe saith: "Hence! Go! Away, thou woe! ”
But everything that suffereth wanteth to live, that
it may become mature and lively and longing,
-Longing for the further, the higher, the
brighter. “I want heirs," so saith everything that
suffereth, "I want children, I do not want myself," —
Joy, however, doth not want heirs, it doth not
want children,--joy wanteth itself, it wanteth eter-
## p. 396 (#614) ############################################
396 TIIUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
nity, it wanteth recurrence, it wanteth everything-
eternally-like-itself.
Woe saith : “Break, bleed, thou heart! Wander,
thou leg! Thou wing, fly! Onward! upward!
thou pain! ” Well! Cheer up! O mine old
heart: Ioe saith : “ Hence! Go! ”
10.
Ye higher men, what think ye? Am I a sooth-
sayer? Or a dreamer? Or a drunkard? Or a
dream-reader? Or a midnight-bell?
Or a drop of dew? Or a fume and fragrance of
eternity? Hear ye it not? Smell ye it not? Just
now hath my world become perfect, midnight is also
mid-day,–
Pain is also a joy, curse is also a blessing, night
is also a sun,-go away! or ye will learn that a
sage is also a fool.
Said ye ever Yea to one joy? O my friends,
then said ye Yea also unto all woe. All things are
enlinked, enlaced and enamoured, -
-Wanted ye ever once to come twice; said ye
ever: “Thou pleasest me, happiness! Instant !
Moment! " then wanted ye all to come back again!
-All anew, all eternal, all enlinked, enlaced and
enamoured, Oh, then did ye love the world,
-Ye eternal ones, ye love it eternally and for all
time : and also unto woe do ye say: Hence! Go!
but come back! For joys all want-eternity!
II.
All joy wanteth the eternity of all things, it
wanteth honey, it wanteth lees, it wanteth drunken
## p. 397 (#615) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 397
midnight, it wanteth graves, it wanteth grave-tears'
consolation, it wanteth gilded evening-red—
— What doth not joy want! it is thirstier,
heartier, hungrier, more frightful, more mysterious,
than all woe: it wanteth itself, it biteth into itself,
the ring's will writheth in it,—
—It wanteth love, it wanteth hate, it is over-rich,
it bestoweth, it throweth away, it beggeth for some
one to take from it, it thanketh the taker, it would
fain be hated,—
—So rich is joy that it thirsteth for woe, for hell,
for hate, for shame, for the lame, for the world,—
for this world, Oh, ye know it indeed!
Ye higher men, for you doth it long, this joy, this
irrepressible, blessed joy—for your woe, ye failures!
For failures, longeth all eternal joy.
For joys all want themselves, therefore do they
also want grief! O happiness, O pain! Oh break,
thou heart! Ye higher men, do learn it, that joys
want eternity,
—Joys want the eternity of all things, they want
deep, profound eternity!
12.
Have ye now learned my song? Have ye
divined what it would say? Well! Cheer up!
Ye higher men, sing now my roundelay!
Sing now yourselves the song, the name of which
is "Once more," the signification of which is " Unto
all eternity! "—sing, ye higher men, Zarathustra's
roundelay!
## p. 398 (#616) ############################################
398
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
O man! Take heed !
What saith deep midnight's voice indeed ?
“ I slept my sleep-,
“From deepest dream I've woke, and plead :-
“ The world is deep,
“And deeper than the day could read.
“ Deep is its woe,
"Joy-deeper still than grief can be :
“ Woe saith: Hence! Go!
“But joys all want eternity,
“ — Want deep, profound eternity ! ”
LXXX. —THE SIGN.
In the morning, however, after this night, Zara-
thustra jumped up from his couch, and, having
girded his loins, he came out of his cave glowing
and strong like a morning sun coming out of
gloomy mountains.
“Thou great star," spake he, as he had spoken
once before, “thou deep eye of happiness, what
would be all thy happiness if thou hadst not those
for whom thou shinest !
And if they remained in their chambers whilst
thou art already awake, and comest and bestowest
and distributest, how would thy proud modesty
upbraid for it!
Well! they still sleep, these higher men, whilst I
am awake: they are not my proper companions !
Not for them do I wait here in my mountains.
At my work I want to be, at my day : but they
understand not what are the signs of my morning,
my step-is not for them the awakening-call.
## p. 399 (#617) ############################################
LXXX. —THE SIGN. 399
They still sleep in my cave; their dream still
drinketh at my drunken songs. The audient ear
for me—the obedient ear, is yet lacking in their
limbs. "
—This had Zarathustra spoken to his heart when
the sun arose: then looked he inquiringly aloft, for
he heard above him the sharp call of his eagle.
"Well! " called he upwards, " thus is it pleasing and
proper to me. Mine animals are awake, for I am
awake.
Mine eagle is awake, and like me honoureth the
sun. With eagle-talons doth it grasp at the new
light. Ye are my proper animals; I love you.
But still do I lack my proper men ! "—
Thus spake Zarathustra; then, however, it
happened that all on a sudden he became aware
that he was flocked around and fluttered around, as
if by innumerable birds,—the whizzing of so many
wings, however, and the crowding around his head
was so great that he shut his eyes. And verily,
there came down upon him as it were a cloud, like
a cloud of arrows which poureth upon a new
enemy. But behold, here it was a cloud of love,
and showered upon a new friend.
"What happeneth unto me," thought Zarathustra
in his astonished heart, and slowly seated himself
on the big stone which lay close to the exit from
his cave. But while he grasped about with his hands,
around him, above him and below him, and repelled
the tender birds, behold, there then happened to
him something still stranger: for he grasped there-
by unawares into a mass of thick, warm, shaggy
## p. 400 (#618) ############################################
400 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
hair; at the same time, however, there sounded
before him a roar,—a long, soft lion-roar.
"The sign cometh" said Zarathustra, and a
change came over his heart. And in truth, when
it turned clear before him, there lay a yellow, power-
ful animal at his feet, resting its head on his knee,
—unwilling to leave him out of love, and doing
like a dog which again findeth its old master. The
doves, however, were no less eager with their love
than the lion; and whenever a dove whisked over
its nose, the lion shook its head and wondered and
laughed.
When all this went on Zarathustra spake only a
word: "My children are nigh, my children"—,
then he became quite mute. His heart, however,
was loosed, and from his eyes there dropped down
tears and fell upon his hands. And he took no
further notice of anything, but sat there motionless,
without repelling the animals further. Then flew
the doves to and fro, and perched on his shoulder,
and caressed his white hair, and did not tire of
their tenderness and joyousness. The strong lion,
however, licked always the tears that fell on Zara-
thustra's hands, and roared and growled shyly.
Thus did these animals do. —
All this went on for a long time, or a short time:
for properly speaking, there is no time on earth for
such things—. Meanwhile, however, the higher men
had awakened in Zarathustra's cave, and marshalled
themselves for a procession to go to meet Zara-
thustra, and give him their morning greeting: for
they had found when they awakened that he no
longer tarried with them. When, however, they
## p. 401 (#619) ############################################
LXXX. --THE SIGN.
401
reached the door of the cave and the noise of their
steps had preceded them, the lion started violently;
it turned away all at once from Zarathustra, and
roaring wildly, sprang towards the cave. The
higher men, however, when they heard the lion
roaring, cried all aloud as with one voice, fled back
and vanished in an instant.
Zarathustra himself, however, stunned and
strange, rose from his seat, looked around him,
stood there astonished, inquired of his heart,
bethought himself, and remained alone. "What
did I hear? ” said he at last, slowly, “what happened
unto me just now ? "
But soon there came to him his recollection, and
he took in at a glance all that had taken place
between yesterday and to-day. “Here is indeed
the stone,” said he, and stroked his beard, “on it
sat I yester-morn; and here came the soothsayer
unto me, and here heard I first the cry which I
heard just now, the great cry of distress.
O ye higher men, your distress was it that the
old soothsayer foretold to me yester-morn,-
-Unto your distress did he want to seduce and
tempt me: 'O Zarathustra,' said he to me, 'I come
to seduce thee to thy last sin. '
To my last sin? ” cried Zarathustra, and laughed
angrily at his own words: "what hath been re-
served for me as my last sin ? ”
-And once more Zarathustra became absorbed
in himself, and sat down again on the big stone
and meditated. Suddenly he sprang up,
“ Fellow-suffering! Fellow-suffering with the
higher men ! ” he cried out, and his countenance
2 C
## p. 402 (#620) ############################################
402
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
changed into brass. “Well! That-hath had its
time!
My suffering and my fellow-suffering — what
matter about them! Do I then strive after happi-
ness? I strive after my work!
Well! The lion hath come, my children are
nigh, Zarathustra hath grown ripe, mine hour hath
come:-
This is my morning, my day beginneth : arise
now, arise, thou great noontide ! ”—-
Thus spake Zarathustra and left his cave, glow-
ing and strong, like a morning sun coming out of
gloomy mountains.
## p. 403 (#621) ############################################
APPENDIX.
## p. 404 (#622) ############################################
## p. 405 (#623) ############################################
NOTES ON "THUS SPAKE
ZARATHUSTRA. "
By Anthony M. Ludovici.
I have had some opportunities of studying the con-
ditions under which Nietzsche is read in Germany,
France, and England, and I have found that, in each
of these countries, students of his philosophy, as if
actuated by precisely similar motives and desires, and
misled by the same mistaken tactics on the part of
most publishers, all proceed in the same happy-go-
lucky style when "taking him up. " They have had
it said to them that he wrote without any system, and
they very naturally conclude that it does not matter
in the least whether they begin with his first, third, or
last book, provided they can obtain a few vague ideas
as to what his leading and most sensational principles
were.
Now, it is clear that the book with the most
mysterious, startling, or suggestive title, will always
stand the best chance of being purchased by those
who have no other criteria to guide them in their
choice than the aspect of a title-page; and this
explains why "Thus Spake Zarathustra" is almost
always the first and often the only one of Nietzsche's
books that falls into the hands of the uninitiated.
The title suggests all kinds of mysteries; a glance
## p. 406 (#624) ############################################
406 APPENDIX.
at the chapter-headings quickly confirms the sus-
picions already aroused, and the sub-title: "A Book
for All and None," generally succeeds in dissipating
the last doubts the prospective purchaser may
entertain concerning his fitness for the book or its
fitness for him. And what happens?
''Thus Spake Zarathustra" is taken home; the
reader, who perchance may know no more concerning
Nietzsche than a magazine article has told him, tries
to read it and, understanding less than half he reads,
probably never gets further than the second or
third part,—and then only to feel convinced that
Nietzsche himself was "rather hazy" as to what he
was talking about. Such chapters as " The Child with
the Mirror," "In the Happy Isles," "The Grave-
Song," "Immaculate Perception," "The Stillest Hour,"
"The Seven Seals," and many others, are almost
utterly devoid of meaning to all those who do not
know something of Nietzsche's life, his aims and his
friendships.
As a matter of fact, "Thus Spake Zarathustra,"
though it is unquestionably Nietzsche's opus magnum,
is by no means the first of Nietzsche's works that the
beginner ought to undertake to read. The author
himself refers to it as the deepest work ever offered
to the German public, and elsewhere speaks of his
other writings as being necessary for the understanding
of it. But when it is remembered that in Zarathustra
we not only have the history of his most intimate ex-
periences, friendships, feuds, disappointments, triumphs
and the like, but that the very form in which they
are narrated is one which tends rather to obscure than
to throw light upon them, the difficulties which meet
the reader who starts quite unprepared will be seen
to be really formidable.
## p. 407 (#625) ############################################
NOTES. 40>
Zarathustra, then,—this shadowy, allegorical person-
ality, speaking in allegories and parables, and at times
not even refraining from relating his own dreams—is
a figure we can understand but very imperfectly if
we have no knowledge of his creator and counterpart,
Friedrich Nietzsche; and it were therefore well, pre-
vious to our study of the more abstruse parts of this
book, if we were to turn to some authoritative book
on Nietzsche's life and works and to read all that is
there said on the subject. Those who can read
German will find an excellent guide, in this respect,
in Frau Foerster-Nietzsche's exhaustive and highly
interesting biography of her brother: "Das Leben
Friedrich Nietzsche's" (published by Naumann);
while the works of Deussen, Raoul Richter, and
Baroness Isabelle von Unger-Sternberg, will be found
to throw useful and necessary light upon many
questions which it would be difficult for a sister to
touch upon.
In regard to the actual philosophical views ex-
pounded in this work, there is an excellent way of
clearing up any difficulties they may present, and that
is by an appeal to Nietzsche's other works. Again
and again, of course, he will be found to express
himself so clearly that all reference to his other
writings may be dispensed with; but where this is
not the case, the advice he himself gives is after all
the best to be followed here, viz. :—to regard such
works as: "Joyful Science," "Beyond Good and Evil,"
"The Genealogy of Morals," "The Twilight of the
Idols," "The Antichrist," "The Will to Power," &c,
&c, as the necessary preparation for "Thus Spake
Zarathustra. "
These directions, though they are by no means
simple to carry out, seem at least to possess the quality
## p. 408 (#626) ############################################
'-2f6iP-.
APPENDIX.
of definiteness and straightforwardness. "Follow
them and all will be clear," I seem to imply. But I
regret to say that this is not really the case. For my
experience tells me that even after the above directions
have been followed with the greatest possible zeal, the
student will still halt in perplexity before certain
passages in the book before us, and wonder what
they mean. Now, it is with the view of giving a
little additional help to all those who find themselves
in this position that I proceed to put forth my own
personal interpretation of the more abstruse passages
in this work.
In offering this little commentary to the Nietzsche
student, I should like it to be understood that I make
no claim as to its infallibility or indispensability. It
represents but an attempt on my part—a very feeble
one perhaps—to give the reader what little help I
can in surmounting difficulties which a long study of
Nietzsche's life and works has enabled me, partially
I hope, to overcome.
* * * * *
Perhaps it would be as well to start out with a
broad and rapid sketch of Nietzsche as a writer on
Morals, Evolution, and Sociology, so that the reader
may be prepared to pick out for himself, so to speak,
all passages in this work bearing in any way upon
Nietzsche's views in those three important branches
of knowledge.
(. 4. ) Nietzsche In morality, Nietzsche starts out by adopting the
and Morality, position of the relativist. He says there are no
absolute values "good " and "evil"; these are mere
means adopted by all in order to acquire power to
maintain their place in the world, or to become
supreme. It is the lion's good to devour an antelope.
It is the dead-leaf butterfly's good to tell a foe a
## p. 409 (#627) ############################################
NOTES. 409
falsehood. For when the dead-leaf butterfly is in
danger, it clings to the side of a twig, and what it
says to its foe is practically this: "I am not a
butterfly, I am a dead leaf, and can be of no use to
thee. " This is a lie which is good to the butterfly,
for it preserves it. In nature every species of organic
being instinctively adopts and practises those acts
which most conduce to the prevalence or supremacy
of its kind. Once the most favourable order of
conduct is found, proved efficient and established,
it becomes the ruling morality of the species that
adopts it and bears them along to victory. All species
must not and cannot value alike, for what is the lion's
good is the antelope's evil and vice versa.
Concepts of good and evil are therefore, in their
origin, merely a means to an end, they are expedients
for acquiring power.
x Applying this principle to mankind, Nietzsche
stacked Christian moral values.
day, one festival with Zarathustra, hath taught me
to love the earth.
'Was that— life? ' will I say unto death. 'Well!
Once more! '
My friends, what think ye? Will ye not, like
me, say unto death: 'Was that—life? For the
sake of Zarathustra, well! Once more! '"
Thus spake the ugliest man; it was not, however,
far from midnight. And what took place then,
think ye? As soon as the higher men heard his
question, they became all at once conscious of their
transformation and convalescence, and of him who
was the cause thereof: then cMd they rush up to
## p. 390 (#606) ############################################
390 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Zarathustra, thanking, honouring, caressing him,
and kissing his hands, each in his own peculiar
way; so that some laughed and some wept. The
old soothsayer, however, danced with delight; and
though he was then, as some narrators suppose, full
of sweet wine, he was certainly still fuller of sweet
life, and had renounced all weariness. There are
even those who narrate that the ass then danced:
for not in vain had the ugliest man previously given
it wine to drink. That may be the case, or it may
be otherwise; and if in truth the ass did not dance
that evening, there nevertheless happened then
greater and rarer wonders than the dancing of an
ass would have been. In short, as the proverb of
Zarathustra saith: "What doth it matter! "
2.
When, however, this took place with the ugliest
man, Zarathustra stood there like one drunken:
his glance dulled, his tongue faltered and his feet
staggered. And who could divine what thoughts
then passed through Zarathustra's soul? Ap-
parently, however, his spirit retreated and fled in
advance and was in remote distances, and as it
were "wandering on high mountain-ridges," as it
standeth written, "'twixt two seas,
—Wandering 'twixt the past and the future as
a heavy cloud. " Gradually, however, while the
higher men held him in their arms, he came back
to himself a little, and resisted with his hands the
crowd of the honouring and caring ones; but he
did not speak. All at once, however, he turned
his head quickly, for he seemed to hear something:
## p. 391 (#607) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 391
then laid he his finger on his mouth and said:
"Come! "
And immediately it became still and mysterious
round about; from the depth however there came
up slowly the sound of a clock-bell. Zarathustra
listened thereto, like the higher men; then, however,
laid he his finger on his mouth the second time, and
said again: "Come! Come! It is getting on to
midnight! "—and his voice had changed. But still
he had not moved from the spot. Then it became
yet stiller and more mysterious, and everything
hearkened, even the ass, and Zarathustra's noble
animals, the eagle and the serpent,—likewise the
cave of Zarathustra and the big cool moon, and
the night itself. Zarathustra, however, laid his
hand upon his mouth for the third time, and said:
Come! Come! Come! Let us now wander!
It is the hour: let us wander into the night!
Ye higher men, it is getting on to midnight:
then will I say something into your ears, as that
old clock-bell saith it into mine ear,—
—As mysteriously, as frightfully, and as cordially
as that midnight clock-bell speaketh it to me, which
hath experienced more than one man:
—Which hath already counted the smarting
throbbings of your fathers' hearts—ah! ah! how it
sigheth! how it laugheth in its dream! the old, deep,
deep midnight!
Hush! Hush! Then is there many a thing
heard which may not be heard by day; now how-
## p. 392 (#608) ############################################
392 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
ever, in the cool air, when even all the tumult of
your hearts hath become still, -
-Now doth it speak, now is it heard, now doth it
steal into overwakeful, nocturnal souls : ah ! ah! how
the midnight sigheth! how it laugheth in its dream!
-Hearest thou not how it mysteriously, fright-
fully, and cordially speaketh unto thee, the old
deep, deep midnight?
O man, take heed !
Woe to me! Whither hath time gone? Have
I not sunk into deep wells? The world sleepeth-
Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth.
Rather will I die, rather will I die, than say unto
you what my midnight-heart now thinketh.
Already have I died. It is all over. Spider, why
spinnest thou around me? Wilt thou have blood ?
Ah! Ah! The dew falleth, the hour cometh-
- The hour in which I frost and freeze, which
asketh and asketh and asketh : “Who hath suffi-
cient courage for it?
-Who is to be inaster of the world? Who
is going to say: Thus shall ye flow, ye great and
small streams! ”
-The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher
man, take heed! this talk is for fine ears, for thine
ears-what saith deep midnight's voice indeed ?
It carrieth me away, my soul danceth. Day's-
work! Day's-work! Who is to be master of the
world?
The moon is cool, the wind is still. Ah! Ah!
## p. 393 (#609) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 393
Have ye already flown high enough? Ye have
danced: a leg, nevertheless, is not a wing.
Ye good dancers, now is all delight over: wine
hath become lees, every cup hath become brittle,
the sepulchres mutter.
Ye have not flown high enough: now do the
sepulchres mutter: "Free the dead! Why is it so
long night? Doth not the moon make us drunken? "
Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the
corpses! Ah, why doth the worm still burrow?
There approacheth, there approacheth, the hour,—
—There boometh the clock-bell, there thrilleth
still the heart, there burroweth still the wood-worm,
the heart-worm. Ah! Ah! The world is deep!
6.
Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy
drunken, ranunculine tone! —how long, how far hath
come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from
the ponds of love!
Thou old clock-bell; thou sweet lyre! Every pain
hath torn thy heart, father-pain, fathers'-pain, fore-
fathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe,—
—Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon,
like mine anchorite heart—now sayest thou: The
world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth
brown,
—Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness.
Ye higher men, do ye not feel it? There welleth up
mysteriously an odour,
—A perfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed,
brown, gold-wine-odour of old happiness,
—Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which
## p. 393 (#610) ############################################
392 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
ever, in the cool air, when even all the tumult of
your hearts hath become still,—
—Now doth it speak, now is it heard, now doth it
steal into overwakeful, nocturnal souls : ah ! ah ! how
the midnight sigheth! how it laugheth in its dream!
—Hearest thou not how it mysteriously, fright-
fully, and cordially speaketh unto thee, the old
deep, deep midnight?
O man, take heed!
4-
Woe to me! Whither hath time gone? Have
I not sunk into deep wells? The world sleepeth—
Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth.
Rather will I die, rather will I die, than say unto
you what my midnight-heart now thinketh.
Already have I died. It is all over. Spider, why
spinnest thou around me? Wilt thou have blood?
Ah! Ah! The dew falleth, the hour cometh—
—The hour in which I frost and freeze, which
asketh and asketh and asketh: "Who hath suffi-
cient courage for it?
—Who is to be master of the world? Who
is going to say: Thus shall ye flow, ye great and
small streams! "
—The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher
man, take heed! this talk is for fine ears, for thine
ears—what saith deep midnights voice indeed?
5-
It carrieth me away, my soul danceth. Days-
work! Day's-work! Who is to be master of the
world?
The moon is cool, the wind is still. Ah! Ah!
""
1
## p. 393 (#611) ############################################
I. XXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 393
Have ye already flown high enough? Ye have
danced: a leg, nevertheless, is not a wing.
Ye good dancers, now is all delight over: wine
hath become lees, every cup hath become brittle,
the sepulchres mutter.
Ye have not flown high enough: now do the
sepulchres mutter: "Free the dead! Why is it so
long night? Doth not the moon make us drunken? "
Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the
corpses! Ah, why doth the worm still burrow?
There approacheth, there approacheth, the hour,—
—There boometh the clock-bell, there thrilleth
still the heart, there burroweth still the wood-worm,
the heart-worm. Ah! Ah! The world is deep!
Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy
drunken, ranunculine tone! —how long, how far hath
come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from
the ponds of love!
Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain
hath torn thy heart, father-pain, fathers'-pain, fore-
fathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe,—
—Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon,
like mine anchorite heart—now sayest thou: The
world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth
brown,
—Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness.
Ye higher men, do ye not feel it? There welleth up
mysteriously an odour,
—A perfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed,
brown, gold-wine-odour of old happiness,
—Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which
## p. 394 (#612) ############################################
394
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
singeth : the world is deep, and deeper than the day
could read !
7.
Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am too
pure for thee. Touch me not! Hath not my
world just now become perfect ?
My skin is too pure for thy hands. Leave me
alone, thou dull, doltish, stupid day! Is not the
midnight brighter ?
The purest are to be masters of the world, the
least known, the strongest, the midnight-souls, who
are brighter and deeper than any day.
O day, thou gropest for me? Thou feelest for
my happiness ? For thee am I rich, lonesome, a
treasure-pit, a gold chamber?
O world, thou wantest me? Am I worldly for
thee? Am I spiritual for thee? Am I divine for
thee? But day and world, ye are too coarse,
-Have cleverer hands, grasp after deeper happi-
ness, after deeper unhappiness, grasp after some
God; grasp not after me :
-Mine unhappiness, my happiness is deep, thou
strange day, but yet am I no God, no God's-hell :
deep is its woe.
God's woe is deeper, thou strange world! Grasp
at God's woe, not at me! What am I! A drunken
sweet lyre,—
-A midnight-lyre, a bell-frog, which no one
understandeth, but which must speak before deaf
ones, ye higher men! For ye do not understand me!
## p. 395 (#613) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG.
395
Gone! Gone! O youth! O noontide! O after-
noon! Now have come evening and night and
midnight,—the dog howleth, the wind :
-Is the wind not a dog? It whineth, it barketh,
it howleth. Ah! Ah! how she sigheth! how she
laugheth, how she wheezeth and panteth, the mid-
night!
How she just now speaketh soberly, this drunken
poetess ! hath she perhaps overdrunk her drunken-
ness ?
hath she become overawake? doth she rumi-
nate ?
-Her woe doth she ruminate over, in a dream,
the old, deep midnight-and still more her joy.
For joy, although woe be deep, joy is deeper still
than grief can be.
9.
Thou grape-vine! Why dost thou praise me?
Have I not cut thee! I am cruel, thou bleedest—;
what meaneth thy praise of my drunken cruelty ?
“Whatever hath become perfect, everything
mature-wanteth to die! ” so sayest thou. Blessed,
blessed be the vintner's knife! But everything
immature wanteth to live: alas !
Woe saith: "Hence! Go! Away, thou woe! ”
But everything that suffereth wanteth to live, that
it may become mature and lively and longing,
-Longing for the further, the higher, the
brighter. “I want heirs," so saith everything that
suffereth, "I want children, I do not want myself," —
Joy, however, doth not want heirs, it doth not
want children,--joy wanteth itself, it wanteth eter-
## p. 396 (#614) ############################################
396 TIIUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
nity, it wanteth recurrence, it wanteth everything-
eternally-like-itself.
Woe saith : “Break, bleed, thou heart! Wander,
thou leg! Thou wing, fly! Onward! upward!
thou pain! ” Well! Cheer up! O mine old
heart: Ioe saith : “ Hence! Go! ”
10.
Ye higher men, what think ye? Am I a sooth-
sayer? Or a dreamer? Or a drunkard? Or a
dream-reader? Or a midnight-bell?
Or a drop of dew? Or a fume and fragrance of
eternity? Hear ye it not? Smell ye it not? Just
now hath my world become perfect, midnight is also
mid-day,–
Pain is also a joy, curse is also a blessing, night
is also a sun,-go away! or ye will learn that a
sage is also a fool.
Said ye ever Yea to one joy? O my friends,
then said ye Yea also unto all woe. All things are
enlinked, enlaced and enamoured, -
-Wanted ye ever once to come twice; said ye
ever: “Thou pleasest me, happiness! Instant !
Moment! " then wanted ye all to come back again!
-All anew, all eternal, all enlinked, enlaced and
enamoured, Oh, then did ye love the world,
-Ye eternal ones, ye love it eternally and for all
time : and also unto woe do ye say: Hence! Go!
but come back! For joys all want-eternity!
II.
All joy wanteth the eternity of all things, it
wanteth honey, it wanteth lees, it wanteth drunken
## p. 397 (#615) ############################################
LXXIX. —THE DRUNKEN SONG. 397
midnight, it wanteth graves, it wanteth grave-tears'
consolation, it wanteth gilded evening-red—
— What doth not joy want! it is thirstier,
heartier, hungrier, more frightful, more mysterious,
than all woe: it wanteth itself, it biteth into itself,
the ring's will writheth in it,—
—It wanteth love, it wanteth hate, it is over-rich,
it bestoweth, it throweth away, it beggeth for some
one to take from it, it thanketh the taker, it would
fain be hated,—
—So rich is joy that it thirsteth for woe, for hell,
for hate, for shame, for the lame, for the world,—
for this world, Oh, ye know it indeed!
Ye higher men, for you doth it long, this joy, this
irrepressible, blessed joy—for your woe, ye failures!
For failures, longeth all eternal joy.
For joys all want themselves, therefore do they
also want grief! O happiness, O pain! Oh break,
thou heart! Ye higher men, do learn it, that joys
want eternity,
—Joys want the eternity of all things, they want
deep, profound eternity!
12.
Have ye now learned my song? Have ye
divined what it would say? Well! Cheer up!
Ye higher men, sing now my roundelay!
Sing now yourselves the song, the name of which
is "Once more," the signification of which is " Unto
all eternity! "—sing, ye higher men, Zarathustra's
roundelay!
## p. 398 (#616) ############################################
398
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
O man! Take heed !
What saith deep midnight's voice indeed ?
“ I slept my sleep-,
“From deepest dream I've woke, and plead :-
“ The world is deep,
“And deeper than the day could read.
“ Deep is its woe,
"Joy-deeper still than grief can be :
“ Woe saith: Hence! Go!
“But joys all want eternity,
“ — Want deep, profound eternity ! ”
LXXX. —THE SIGN.
In the morning, however, after this night, Zara-
thustra jumped up from his couch, and, having
girded his loins, he came out of his cave glowing
and strong like a morning sun coming out of
gloomy mountains.
“Thou great star," spake he, as he had spoken
once before, “thou deep eye of happiness, what
would be all thy happiness if thou hadst not those
for whom thou shinest !
And if they remained in their chambers whilst
thou art already awake, and comest and bestowest
and distributest, how would thy proud modesty
upbraid for it!
Well! they still sleep, these higher men, whilst I
am awake: they are not my proper companions !
Not for them do I wait here in my mountains.
At my work I want to be, at my day : but they
understand not what are the signs of my morning,
my step-is not for them the awakening-call.
## p. 399 (#617) ############################################
LXXX. —THE SIGN. 399
They still sleep in my cave; their dream still
drinketh at my drunken songs. The audient ear
for me—the obedient ear, is yet lacking in their
limbs. "
—This had Zarathustra spoken to his heart when
the sun arose: then looked he inquiringly aloft, for
he heard above him the sharp call of his eagle.
"Well! " called he upwards, " thus is it pleasing and
proper to me. Mine animals are awake, for I am
awake.
Mine eagle is awake, and like me honoureth the
sun. With eagle-talons doth it grasp at the new
light. Ye are my proper animals; I love you.
But still do I lack my proper men ! "—
Thus spake Zarathustra; then, however, it
happened that all on a sudden he became aware
that he was flocked around and fluttered around, as
if by innumerable birds,—the whizzing of so many
wings, however, and the crowding around his head
was so great that he shut his eyes. And verily,
there came down upon him as it were a cloud, like
a cloud of arrows which poureth upon a new
enemy. But behold, here it was a cloud of love,
and showered upon a new friend.
"What happeneth unto me," thought Zarathustra
in his astonished heart, and slowly seated himself
on the big stone which lay close to the exit from
his cave. But while he grasped about with his hands,
around him, above him and below him, and repelled
the tender birds, behold, there then happened to
him something still stranger: for he grasped there-
by unawares into a mass of thick, warm, shaggy
## p. 400 (#618) ############################################
400 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
hair; at the same time, however, there sounded
before him a roar,—a long, soft lion-roar.
"The sign cometh" said Zarathustra, and a
change came over his heart. And in truth, when
it turned clear before him, there lay a yellow, power-
ful animal at his feet, resting its head on his knee,
—unwilling to leave him out of love, and doing
like a dog which again findeth its old master. The
doves, however, were no less eager with their love
than the lion; and whenever a dove whisked over
its nose, the lion shook its head and wondered and
laughed.
When all this went on Zarathustra spake only a
word: "My children are nigh, my children"—,
then he became quite mute. His heart, however,
was loosed, and from his eyes there dropped down
tears and fell upon his hands. And he took no
further notice of anything, but sat there motionless,
without repelling the animals further. Then flew
the doves to and fro, and perched on his shoulder,
and caressed his white hair, and did not tire of
their tenderness and joyousness. The strong lion,
however, licked always the tears that fell on Zara-
thustra's hands, and roared and growled shyly.
Thus did these animals do. —
All this went on for a long time, or a short time:
for properly speaking, there is no time on earth for
such things—. Meanwhile, however, the higher men
had awakened in Zarathustra's cave, and marshalled
themselves for a procession to go to meet Zara-
thustra, and give him their morning greeting: for
they had found when they awakened that he no
longer tarried with them. When, however, they
## p. 401 (#619) ############################################
LXXX. --THE SIGN.
401
reached the door of the cave and the noise of their
steps had preceded them, the lion started violently;
it turned away all at once from Zarathustra, and
roaring wildly, sprang towards the cave. The
higher men, however, when they heard the lion
roaring, cried all aloud as with one voice, fled back
and vanished in an instant.
Zarathustra himself, however, stunned and
strange, rose from his seat, looked around him,
stood there astonished, inquired of his heart,
bethought himself, and remained alone. "What
did I hear? ” said he at last, slowly, “what happened
unto me just now ? "
But soon there came to him his recollection, and
he took in at a glance all that had taken place
between yesterday and to-day. “Here is indeed
the stone,” said he, and stroked his beard, “on it
sat I yester-morn; and here came the soothsayer
unto me, and here heard I first the cry which I
heard just now, the great cry of distress.
O ye higher men, your distress was it that the
old soothsayer foretold to me yester-morn,-
-Unto your distress did he want to seduce and
tempt me: 'O Zarathustra,' said he to me, 'I come
to seduce thee to thy last sin. '
To my last sin? ” cried Zarathustra, and laughed
angrily at his own words: "what hath been re-
served for me as my last sin ? ”
-And once more Zarathustra became absorbed
in himself, and sat down again on the big stone
and meditated. Suddenly he sprang up,
“ Fellow-suffering! Fellow-suffering with the
higher men ! ” he cried out, and his countenance
2 C
## p. 402 (#620) ############################################
402
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
changed into brass. “Well! That-hath had its
time!
My suffering and my fellow-suffering — what
matter about them! Do I then strive after happi-
ness? I strive after my work!
Well! The lion hath come, my children are
nigh, Zarathustra hath grown ripe, mine hour hath
come:-
This is my morning, my day beginneth : arise
now, arise, thou great noontide ! ”—-
Thus spake Zarathustra and left his cave, glow-
ing and strong, like a morning sun coming out of
gloomy mountains.
## p. 403 (#621) ############################################
APPENDIX.
## p. 404 (#622) ############################################
## p. 405 (#623) ############################################
NOTES ON "THUS SPAKE
ZARATHUSTRA. "
By Anthony M. Ludovici.
I have had some opportunities of studying the con-
ditions under which Nietzsche is read in Germany,
France, and England, and I have found that, in each
of these countries, students of his philosophy, as if
actuated by precisely similar motives and desires, and
misled by the same mistaken tactics on the part of
most publishers, all proceed in the same happy-go-
lucky style when "taking him up. " They have had
it said to them that he wrote without any system, and
they very naturally conclude that it does not matter
in the least whether they begin with his first, third, or
last book, provided they can obtain a few vague ideas
as to what his leading and most sensational principles
were.
Now, it is clear that the book with the most
mysterious, startling, or suggestive title, will always
stand the best chance of being purchased by those
who have no other criteria to guide them in their
choice than the aspect of a title-page; and this
explains why "Thus Spake Zarathustra" is almost
always the first and often the only one of Nietzsche's
books that falls into the hands of the uninitiated.
The title suggests all kinds of mysteries; a glance
## p. 406 (#624) ############################################
406 APPENDIX.
at the chapter-headings quickly confirms the sus-
picions already aroused, and the sub-title: "A Book
for All and None," generally succeeds in dissipating
the last doubts the prospective purchaser may
entertain concerning his fitness for the book or its
fitness for him. And what happens?
''Thus Spake Zarathustra" is taken home; the
reader, who perchance may know no more concerning
Nietzsche than a magazine article has told him, tries
to read it and, understanding less than half he reads,
probably never gets further than the second or
third part,—and then only to feel convinced that
Nietzsche himself was "rather hazy" as to what he
was talking about. Such chapters as " The Child with
the Mirror," "In the Happy Isles," "The Grave-
Song," "Immaculate Perception," "The Stillest Hour,"
"The Seven Seals," and many others, are almost
utterly devoid of meaning to all those who do not
know something of Nietzsche's life, his aims and his
friendships.
As a matter of fact, "Thus Spake Zarathustra,"
though it is unquestionably Nietzsche's opus magnum,
is by no means the first of Nietzsche's works that the
beginner ought to undertake to read. The author
himself refers to it as the deepest work ever offered
to the German public, and elsewhere speaks of his
other writings as being necessary for the understanding
of it. But when it is remembered that in Zarathustra
we not only have the history of his most intimate ex-
periences, friendships, feuds, disappointments, triumphs
and the like, but that the very form in which they
are narrated is one which tends rather to obscure than
to throw light upon them, the difficulties which meet
the reader who starts quite unprepared will be seen
to be really formidable.
## p. 407 (#625) ############################################
NOTES. 40>
Zarathustra, then,—this shadowy, allegorical person-
ality, speaking in allegories and parables, and at times
not even refraining from relating his own dreams—is
a figure we can understand but very imperfectly if
we have no knowledge of his creator and counterpart,
Friedrich Nietzsche; and it were therefore well, pre-
vious to our study of the more abstruse parts of this
book, if we were to turn to some authoritative book
on Nietzsche's life and works and to read all that is
there said on the subject. Those who can read
German will find an excellent guide, in this respect,
in Frau Foerster-Nietzsche's exhaustive and highly
interesting biography of her brother: "Das Leben
Friedrich Nietzsche's" (published by Naumann);
while the works of Deussen, Raoul Richter, and
Baroness Isabelle von Unger-Sternberg, will be found
to throw useful and necessary light upon many
questions which it would be difficult for a sister to
touch upon.
In regard to the actual philosophical views ex-
pounded in this work, there is an excellent way of
clearing up any difficulties they may present, and that
is by an appeal to Nietzsche's other works. Again
and again, of course, he will be found to express
himself so clearly that all reference to his other
writings may be dispensed with; but where this is
not the case, the advice he himself gives is after all
the best to be followed here, viz. :—to regard such
works as: "Joyful Science," "Beyond Good and Evil,"
"The Genealogy of Morals," "The Twilight of the
Idols," "The Antichrist," "The Will to Power," &c,
&c, as the necessary preparation for "Thus Spake
Zarathustra. "
These directions, though they are by no means
simple to carry out, seem at least to possess the quality
## p. 408 (#626) ############################################
'-2f6iP-.
APPENDIX.
of definiteness and straightforwardness. "Follow
them and all will be clear," I seem to imply. But I
regret to say that this is not really the case. For my
experience tells me that even after the above directions
have been followed with the greatest possible zeal, the
student will still halt in perplexity before certain
passages in the book before us, and wonder what
they mean. Now, it is with the view of giving a
little additional help to all those who find themselves
in this position that I proceed to put forth my own
personal interpretation of the more abstruse passages
in this work.
In offering this little commentary to the Nietzsche
student, I should like it to be understood that I make
no claim as to its infallibility or indispensability. It
represents but an attempt on my part—a very feeble
one perhaps—to give the reader what little help I
can in surmounting difficulties which a long study of
Nietzsche's life and works has enabled me, partially
I hope, to overcome.
* * * * *
Perhaps it would be as well to start out with a
broad and rapid sketch of Nietzsche as a writer on
Morals, Evolution, and Sociology, so that the reader
may be prepared to pick out for himself, so to speak,
all passages in this work bearing in any way upon
Nietzsche's views in those three important branches
of knowledge.
(. 4. ) Nietzsche In morality, Nietzsche starts out by adopting the
and Morality, position of the relativist. He says there are no
absolute values "good " and "evil"; these are mere
means adopted by all in order to acquire power to
maintain their place in the world, or to become
supreme. It is the lion's good to devour an antelope.
It is the dead-leaf butterfly's good to tell a foe a
## p. 409 (#627) ############################################
NOTES. 409
falsehood. For when the dead-leaf butterfly is in
danger, it clings to the side of a twig, and what it
says to its foe is practically this: "I am not a
butterfly, I am a dead leaf, and can be of no use to
thee. " This is a lie which is good to the butterfly,
for it preserves it. In nature every species of organic
being instinctively adopts and practises those acts
which most conduce to the prevalence or supremacy
of its kind. Once the most favourable order of
conduct is found, proved efficient and established,
it becomes the ruling morality of the species that
adopts it and bears them along to victory. All species
must not and cannot value alike, for what is the lion's
good is the antelope's evil and vice versa.
Concepts of good and evil are therefore, in their
origin, merely a means to an end, they are expedients
for acquiring power.
x Applying this principle to mankind, Nietzsche
stacked Christian moral values.
