—THE
ACADEMIC
CHAIRS OF VIRTUE.
Nietzsche - v11 - Thus Spake Zarathustra
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.
"A bad country for the hungry," said he; "that is
why I live here. Animal and man come unto me,
the anchorite. But bid thy companion eat and
drink also, he is wearier than thou. " Zarathustra
answered : " My companion is dead; I shall hardly
be able to persuade him to eat. " "That doth not
concern me," said the old man sullenly; "he that
knocketh at my door must take what I offer him.
Eat, and fare ye well! "—
## p. 19 (#81) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE.
19
Thereafter Zarathustra again went on for two
hours, trusting to the path and the light of the
stars : for he was an experienced night-walker, and
liked to look into the face of all that slept. When
the morning dawned, however, Zarathustra found
himself in a thick forest, and no path was any
longer visible. He then put the dead man in a
hollow tree at his head-for he wanted to protect
him from the wolves—and laid himself down on
the ground and moss. And immediately he fell
asleep, tired in body, but with a tranquil soul.
9.
Long slept Zarathustra; and not only the rosy
dawn passed over his head, but also the morning.
At last, however, his eyes opened, and amazedly he
gazed into the forest and the stillness, amazedly he
gazed into himself. Then he arose quickly, like a
seafarer who all at once seeth the land; and he
shouted for joy: for he saw a new truth. And he
spake thus to his heart :
A light hath dawned upon me: I need com-
panions—living ones; not dead companions and
corpses, which I carry with me where I will.
But I need living companions, who will follow
me because they want to follow themselves—and
to the place where I will.
A light hath dawned upon me. Not to the
people is Zarathustra to speak, but to companions !
Zarathustra shall not be the herd's herdsman and
hound!
To allure many from the herd--for that purpose
hot dead core I will follow
## p. 20 (#82) ##############################################
20 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
have I come. The people and the herd must be
angry with me: a robber shall Zarathustra be
called by the herdsmen.
Herdsmen, I say, but they call themselves the
good and just. Herdsmen, I say, but they call
themselves the believers in the orthodox belief.
Behold the good and just! Whom do they
hate most? Him who breaketh up their tables of
values, the breaker, the law-breaker :—he, however,
is the creator.
Behold the believers of all beliefs! Whom do
they hate most? Him who breaketh up their tables
of values, the breaker, the law-breaker:—he, how-
ever, is the creator.
Companions, the creator seeketh, not corpses—
and not herds or believers either. Fellow-creators
the creator seeketh—those who grave new values
on new tables.
Companions, the creator seeketh, and fellow-
reapers: for everything is ripe for the harvest with
him. But he lacketh the hundred sickles: so he
plucketh the ears of corn and is vexed.
Companions, the creator seeketh, and such as
know how to whet their sickles. Destroyers, will
they be called, and despisers of good and evil. But
they are the reapers and rejoicers.
Fellow-creators, Zarathustra seeketh; fellow-
reapers and fellow-rejoicers, Zarathustra seeketh:
what hath he to do with herds and herdsmen and
corpses!
And thou, my first companion, rest in peace!
Well have I buried thee in thy hollow tree; well
have I hid thee from the wolves.
## p. 21 (#83) ##############################################
zarathustra's PROLOGUE. 21
But I part from thee; the time hath arrived.
'Twixt rosy dawn and rosy dawn there came unto
me a new truth.
I am not to be a herdsman, I am not to be a
grave-digger. Not any more will I discourse unto
the people; for the last time have I spoken unto
the dead.
With the creators, the reapers, and the rejoicers
will I associate: the rainbow will I show them, and
all the stairs to the Superman.
To the lone-dwellers will I sing my song, and to
the twain-dwellers; and unto him who hath still
ears for the unheard, will I make the heart heavy
with my happiness.
I make for my goal, I follow my course; over
the loitering and tardy will I leap. Thus let my
on-going be their down-going!
10.
This had Zarathustra said to his heart when the
sun stood at noon-tide. Then he looked inquiringly
aloft,—for he heard above him the sharp call of a
bird. And behold! An eagle swept through the
air in wide circles, and on it hung a serpent, not
like a prey, but like a friend: for it kept itself coiled
round the eagle's neck.
"They are mine animals," said Zarathustra, and
rejoiced in his heart.
"The proudest animal under the sun, and the
wisest animal under the sun,—they have come out
to reconnoitre.
They want to know whether Zarathustra still
liveth. Verily, do I still live?
## p. 22 (#84) ##############################################
22
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
More dangerous have I found it among men than
among animals; in dangerous paths goeth Zara-
thustra. Let mine animals lead me! ”
When Zarathustra had said this, he remembered
the words of the saint in the forest. Then he
sighed and spake thus to his heart:
“Would that I were wiser! Would that I were
wise from the very heart, like my serpent !
But I am asking the impossible. Therefore do
I ask my pride to go always with my wisdom !
And if my wisdom should some day forsake me:
-alas! it loveth to fly away ! -may my pride then
fly with my folly! ”
Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
## p. 23 (#85) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S DISCOURSES.
## p. 24 (#86) ##############################################
A
—-
## p. 25 (#87) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I desig-
nate to you: how the spirit becometh a camel, the
camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.
Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the
strong load-bearing spirit in which reverence
dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth
its strength.
What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit;
then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth
to be well laden.
What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh
the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me
and rejoice in my strength.
Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to
mortify one's pride? To exhibit one's folly in
order to mock at one's wisdom?
Or is it this: To desert our cause when it cele-
brateth its triumph? To ascend high mountains
to tempt the tempter?
Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of
knowledge, and for the sake of truth to suffer
hunger of soul?
Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters,
and make friends of the deaf, who never hear thy
requests?
Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the
## p. 26 (#88) ##############################################
26
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
water of truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot
toads ?
Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and
give one's hand to the phantom when it is going
to frighten us?
All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit
taketh upon itself: and like the camel, which, when
laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so hasteneth
the spirit into its wilderness.
But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the
second metamorphosis : here the spirit becometh
a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its
own wilderness.
Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to
him, and to its last God; for victory will it struggle
with the great dragon.
· What is the great dragon which the spirit is no
longer inclined to call Lord and God? “Thou-shalt,"
is the great dragon called. But the spirit of the
lion saith, “I will. ”
“Thou-shalt,” lieth in its path, sparkling with
gold—a scale-covered beast; and on every scale
glittereth golden, “Thou shalt ! ”.
The values of a thousand years glitter on those
scales, and thus speaketh the mightiest of all
dragons : “All the values of things-glitter on me.
All values have already been created, and all
created values — do I represent. Verily, there
shall be no ‘I will’any more. ” Thus speaketh the
dragon.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion
in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of
burden, which renounceth and is reverent?
## p. 27 (#89) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES. 27
To create new values—that, even the lion cannot
yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for
new creating—that can the might of the lion do.
To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay
even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is
need of the lion.
To assume the right to new values—that is the
most formidable assumption for a load-bearing
and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a spirit it
is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.
As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now
is it forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even
in the holiest things, that it may capture free-
dom from its love: the lion is needed for this
capture.
But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do,
which even the lion could not do? Why hath the
preying lion still to become a child?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new
beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first
movement, a holy Yea.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren,
there is needed a holy Yea unto life: its own will,
willeth now the spirit; his own world winneth the
world's outcast.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I
designated to you: how the spirit became a
camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a
child. —
Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he
abode in the town which is called The Pied Cow.
## p. 28 (#90) ##############################################
28 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF
VIRTUE.
People commended unto Zarathustra a wise man,
as one who could discourse well about sleep and
virtue: greatly was he honoured and rewarded for
it, and all the youths sat before his chair. To him
went Zarathustra, and sat among the youths before
his chair. And thus spake the wise man:
Respect and modesty in presence of sleep! That
is the first thing! And to go out of the way of all
who sleep badly and keep awake at night!
Modest is even the thief in presence of sleep: he
always stealeth softly through the night. Immodest,
however, is the night-watchman; immodestly he
carrieth his horn.
No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that
purpose to keep awake all day.
Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that
causeth wholesome weariness, and is poppy to the
soul.
Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself;
for overcoming is bitterness, and badly sleep the
unreconciled.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; other-
wise wilt thou seek truth during the night, and thy
soul will have been hungry.
Ten times must thou laugh during the day, and
be cheerful; otherwise thy stomach, the father of
affliction, will disturb thee in the night
.
Few people know it, but one must have all the
virtues in order to sleep well. Shall I bear false
witness? Shall I commit adultery?
## p. 29 (#91) ##############################################
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 29
Shall I covet my neighbour's maidservant? All
that would ill accord with good sleep.
And even if one have all the virtues, there is still
one thing needful: to send the virtues themselves
to sleep at the right time.
That they may not quarrel with one another, the
good females! And about thee, thou unhappy one!
Peace with God and thy neighbour: so desireth
good sleep. And peace also with thy neighbour's
devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in the night.
Honour to the government, and obedience, and
also to the crooked government! So desireth good
sleep. How can I help it, if power like to walk
on crooked legs?
He who leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture,
shall always be for me the best shepherd: so doth
it accord with good sleep.
Many honours I want not, nor great treasures:
they excite the spleen. But it is bad sleeping
without a good name and a little treasure.
A small company is more welcome to me than a
bad one: but they must come and go at the right
time. So doth it accord with good sleep.
Well, also, do the poor in spirit please me: they
promote sleep. Blessed are they, especially if one
always give in to them.
Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. When
night cometh, then take I good care not to summon
sleep. It disliketh to be summoned—sleep, the
lord of the virtues!
But I think of what I have done and thought
during the day. Thus ruminating, patient as a cow,
I ask myself: What were thy ten overcomings?
## p. 30 (#92) ##############################################
30 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
And what were the ten reconciliations, and the
ten truths, and the ten laughters with which my
heart enjoyed itself?
Thus pondering, and cradled by forty thoughts,
it overtaketh me all at once—sleep, the unsum-
moned, the lord of the virtues.
Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy.
Sleep toucheth my mouth, and it remaineth open.
Verily, on soft soles doth it come to me, the
dearest of thieves, and stealeth from me my
thoughts: stupid do I then stand, like this
academic chair.
But not much longer do I then stand: I already
lie-
When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus
speak, he laughed in his heart: for thereby had a
light dawned upon him. And thus spake he to his
heart:
A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty
thoughts: but I believe he knoweth well how to
sleep.
Happy even is he who liveth near this wise
man! Such sleep is contagious—even through a
thick wall it is contagious.
A magic resideth even in his academic chair.
And not in vain did the youths sit before the
preacher of virtue.
His wisdom is to keep awake in order to
sleep well. And verily, if life had no sense,
and had I to choose nonsense, this would be the
desirablest nonsense for me also.
Now know I well what people sought formerly
above all else when they sought teachers of virtue.
## p. 31 (#93) ##############################################
II.
—THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 31
Good sleep they sought for themselves, and poppy-
head virtues to promote it!
To all those belauded sages of the academic
chairs, wisdom was sleep without dreams: they
knew no higher significance of life.
Even at present, to be sure, there are some like
this preacher of virtue, and not always so honour-
able: but their time is past. And not much longer
do they stand: there they already lie.
Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall
soon nod to sleep. —
Thus spake Zarathustra.
III. —BACKWORLDSMEN.
Once on a time, Zarathustra also cast his fancy
beyond man, like all backworldsmen. The work
of a suffering and tortured God, did the world then
seem to me.
The dream—and diction—of a God, did the world
then seem to me; coloured vapours before the eyes
of a divinely dissatisfied one.
Good and evil, and joy and woe, and I and thou—
coloured vapours did they seem to me before crea-
tive eyes. The creator wished to look away from
himself,—thereupon he created the world.
Intoxicating joy is it for the sufferer to look
away from his suffering and forget himself. In-
toxicating joy and self-forgetting, did the world
once seem to me.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal
## p. 31 (#94) ##############################################
22 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
More dangerous have I found it among men than
among animals; in dangerous paths goeth Zara-
thustra. Let mine animals lead me! "
When Zarathustra had said this, he remembered
the words of the saint in the forest. Then he
sighed and spake thus to his heart:
"Would that I were wiser! Would that I were
wise from the very heart, like my serpent!
But I am asking the impossible. Therefore do
I ask my pride to go always with my wisdom!
And if my wisdom should some day forsake me:
—alas! it loveth to fly away! —may my pride then
fly with my folly! "
Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
## p. 31 (#95) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S DISCOURSES.
## p. 31 (#96) ##############################################
## p. 31 (#97) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I desig-
nate to you: how the spirit becometh a camel, the
camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.
Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the
strong load-bearing spirit in which reverence
dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth
its strength.
What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit;
then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth
to be well laden.
What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh
the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me
and rejoice in my strength.
Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to
mortify one's pride? To exhibit one's folly in
order to mock at one's wisdom?
Or is it this: To desert our cause when it cele-
brateth its triumph? To ascend high mountains
to tempt the tempter?
Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of
knowledge, and for the sake of truth to suffer
hunger of soul?
Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters,
and make friends of the deaf, who never hear thy
requests?
Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the
## p. 31 (#98) ##############################################
26 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
water of truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot
toads?
Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and
give one's hand to the phantom when it is going
to frighten us?
All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit
taketh upon itself: and like the camel, which, when
laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so hasteneth
the spirit into its wilderness.
But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the
second metamorphosis: here the spirit becometh
a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its
own wilderness.
Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to
him, and to its last God; for victory will it struggle
with the great dragon.
What is the great dragon which the spirit is no
longer inclined to call Lord and God? "Thou-shalt,"
is the great dragon called. But the spirit of the
lion saith, " I will. "
"Thou-shalt," lieth in its path, sparkling with
gold—a scale-covered beast; and on every scale
glittereth golden, "Thou shalt! "
The values of a thousand years glitter on those
scales, and thus speaketh the mightiest of all
dragons : " All the values of things—glitter on me.
All values have already been created, and all
created values — do I represent. Verily, there
shall be no ' I will' any more. " Thus speaketh the
dragon.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion
in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of
burden, which renounceth and is reverent?
## p. 31 (#99) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES. 27
To create new values—that, even the lion cannot
yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for
new creating—that can the might of the lion do.
To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay
even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is
need of the lion.
To assume the right to new values—that is the
most formidable assumption for a load-bearing
and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a spirit it
is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.
As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now
is it forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even
in the holiest things, that it may capture free-
dom from its love: the lion is needed for this
capture.
But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do,
which even the lion could not do? Why hath the
preying lion still to become a child?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new
beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first
movement, a holy Yea.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren,
there is needed a holy Yea unto life: its own will,
willeth now the spirit; his own world winneth the
world's outcast.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I
designated to you: how the spirit became a
camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a
child. —
Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he
abode in the town which is called The Pied Cow.
## p. 31 (#100) #############################################
28 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF
VIRTUE.
People commended unto Zarathustra a wise man,
as one who could discourse well about sleep and
virtue: greatly was he honoured and rewarded for
it, and all the youths sat before his chair. To him
went Zarathustra, and sat among the youths before
his chair. And thus spake the wise man:
Respect and modesty in presence of sleep! That
is the first thing! And to go out of the way of all
who sleep badly and keep awake at night!
Modest is even the thief in presence of sleep: he
always stealeth softly through the night. Immodest,
however, is the night-watchman; immodestly he
carrieth his horn.
No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that
purpose to keep awake all day.
Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that
causeth wholesome weariness, and is poppy to the
soul.
Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself;
for overcoming is bitterness, and badly sleep the
unreconciled.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; other-
wise wilt thou seek truth during the night, and thy
soul will have been hungry.
Ten times must thou laugh during the day, and
be cheerful; otherwise thy stomach, the father of
affliction, will disturb thee in the night.
Few people know it, but one must have all the
virtues in order to sleep well. Shall I bear false
witness? Shall I commit adultery?
## p. 31 (#101) #############################################
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 29
Shall I covet my neighbour's maidservant? All
that would ill accord with good sleep.
And even if one have all the virtues, there is still
one thing needful: to send the virtues themselves
to sleep at the right time.
That they may not quarrel with one another, the
good females! And about thee, thou unhappy one!
Peace with God and thy neighbour: so desireth
good sleep. And peace also with thy neighbour's
devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in the night.
Honour to the government, and obedience, and
also to the crooked government! So desireth good
sleep. How can I help it, if power like to walk
on crooked legs?
He who leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture,
shall always be for me the best shepherd: so doth
it accord with good sleep.
Many honours I want not, nor great treasures:
they excite the spleen. But it is bad sleeping
without a good name and a little treasure.
A small company is more welcome to me than a
bad one: but they must come and go at the right
time. So doth it accord with good sleep.
Well, also, do the poor in spirit please me: they
promote sleep. Blessed are they, especially if one
always give in to them.
Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. When
night cometh, then take I good care not to summon
sleep. It disliketh to be summoned—sleep, the
lord of the virtues!
But I think of what I have done and thought
during the day. Thus ruminating, patient as a cow,
I ask myself: What were thy ten overcomings?
## p. 31 (#102) #############################################
30 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
And what were the ten reconciliations, and the
ten truths, and the ten laughters with which my
heart enjoyed itself?
Thus pondering, and cradled by forty thoughts,
it overtaketh me all at once—sleep, the unsum-
moned, the lord of the virtues.
Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy.
Sleep toucheth my mouth, and it remaineth open.
Verily, on soft soles doth it come to me, the
dearest of thieves, and stealeth from me my
thoughts: stupid do I then stand, like this
academic chair.
But not much longer do I then stand: I already
lie-
When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus
speak, he laughed in his heart: for thereby had a
light dawned upon him. And thus spake he to his
heart:
A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty
thoughts: but I believe he knoweth well how to
sleep.
Happy even is he who liveth near this wise
man! Such sleep is contagious—even through a
thick wall it is contagious.
A magic resideth even in his academic chair.
And not in vain did the youths sit before the
preacher of virtue.
His wisdom is to keep awake in order to
sleep well. And verily, if life had no sense,
and had I to choose nonsense, this would be the
desirablest nonsense for me also.
Now know I well what people sought formerly
above all else when they sought teachers of virtue.
## p. 31 (#103) #############################################
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 31
Good sleep they sought for themselves, and poppy-
head virtues to promote it!
To all those belauded sages of the academic
chairs, wisdom was sleep without dreams: they
knew no higher significance of life.
Even at present, to be sure, there are some like
this preacher of virtue, and not always so honour-
able: but their time is past. And not much longer
do they stand: there they already lie.
Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall
soon nod to sleep. —
Thus spake Zarathustra.
III. —BACKWORLDSMEN.
Once on a time, Zarathustra also cast his fancy
beyond man, like all backworldsmen. The work
of a suffering and tortured God, did the world then
seem to me.
The dream—and diction—of a God, did the world
then seem to me; coloured vapours before the eyes
of a divinely dissatisfied one.
Good and evil, and joy and woe, and I and thou—
coloured vapours did they seem to me before crea-
tive eyes. The creator wished to look away from
himself,—thereupon he created the world.
Intoxicating joy is it for the sufferer to look
away from his suffering and forget himself. In-
toxicating joy and self-forgetting, did the world
once seem to me.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal
## p. 32 (#104) #############################################
32 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
contradiction's image and imperfect image—an
intoxicating joy to its imperfect creator:—thus did
the world once seem to me.
Thus, once on a time, did I also cast my fancy
beyond man, like all backworldsmen. Beyond
man, forsooth?
Ah, ye brethren, that God whom I created was
human work and human madness, like all the
Gods!
A man was he, and only a poor fragment of a
man and ego. Out of mine own ashes and glow it
came unto me, that phantom. And verily, it came
not unto me from the beyond!
What happened, my brethren? I surpassed
myself, the suffering one; I carried mine own ashes
to the mountain; a brighter flame I contrived for
myself. And lo! Thereupon the phantom with-
drew from me!
To me the convalescent would it now be suffer-
ing and torment to believe in such phantoms:
suffering would it now be to me, and humiliation.
Thus speak I to backworldsmen.
Suffering was it, and impotence—that created all
backworlds; and the short madness of happiness,
which only the greatest sufferer experienceth.
Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate
with one leap, with a death-leap; a poor ignorant
weariness, unwilling even to will any longer: that
created all Gods and backworlds.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body
which despaired of the body—it groped with the
fingers of the infatuated spirit at the ultimate walls.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which
## p. 33 (#105) #############################################
III. —BACKWORLDSMEN. 33
despaired of the earth—it heard the bowels of
existence speaking unto it.
And then it sought to get through the ultimate
walls with its head—and not with its head only—
into " the other world. "
But that "other world" is well concealed from
man, that dehumanised, inhuman world, which is
a celestial naught; and the bowels of existence
do not speak unto man, except as man.
Verily, it is difficult to prove all being, and hard
to make it speak. Tell me, ye brethren, is not
the strangest of all things best proved?
Yea, this ego, with its contradiction and per-
plexity, speaketh most uprightly of its being—this
creating, willing, evaluing ego, which is the measure
and value of things.
And this most upright existence, the ego—it
speaketh of the body, and still implieth the body,
even when it museth and raveth and fluttereth with
broken wings.
Always more uprightly learneth it to speak, the
ego; and the more it learneth, the more doth it find
titles and honours for the body and the earth.
A new pride taught me mine ego, and that teach
I unto men: no longer to thrust the head into the
sand of celestial things, but to carry it freely, a
terrestrial head, which giveth meaning to the
earth!
A new will teach I unto men: to choose that
path which man hath followed blindly, and to
approve of it—and no longer to slink aside from
it, like the sick and perishing!
The sick and perishing—it was they who despised
c
## p. 34 (#106) #############################################
34 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
the body and the earth, and invented the heavenly
world, and the redeeming blood-drops; but even
those sweet and sad poisons they borrowed from
the body and the earth!
From their misery they sought escape, and the
stars were too remote for them. Then they sighed:
"O that there were heavenly paths by which to
steal into another existence and into happiness! "
Then they contrived for themselves their by-paths
and bloody draughts!
Beyond the sphere of their body and this earth
they now fancied themselves transported, these
ungrateful ones. But to what did they owe the
convulsion and rapture of their transport? To
their body and this earth.
Gentle is Zarathustra to the sickly.
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.
"A bad country for the hungry," said he; "that is
why I live here. Animal and man come unto me,
the anchorite. But bid thy companion eat and
drink also, he is wearier than thou. " Zarathustra
answered : " My companion is dead; I shall hardly
be able to persuade him to eat. " "That doth not
concern me," said the old man sullenly; "he that
knocketh at my door must take what I offer him.
Eat, and fare ye well! "—
## p. 19 (#81) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE.
19
Thereafter Zarathustra again went on for two
hours, trusting to the path and the light of the
stars : for he was an experienced night-walker, and
liked to look into the face of all that slept. When
the morning dawned, however, Zarathustra found
himself in a thick forest, and no path was any
longer visible. He then put the dead man in a
hollow tree at his head-for he wanted to protect
him from the wolves—and laid himself down on
the ground and moss. And immediately he fell
asleep, tired in body, but with a tranquil soul.
9.
Long slept Zarathustra; and not only the rosy
dawn passed over his head, but also the morning.
At last, however, his eyes opened, and amazedly he
gazed into the forest and the stillness, amazedly he
gazed into himself. Then he arose quickly, like a
seafarer who all at once seeth the land; and he
shouted for joy: for he saw a new truth. And he
spake thus to his heart :
A light hath dawned upon me: I need com-
panions—living ones; not dead companions and
corpses, which I carry with me where I will.
But I need living companions, who will follow
me because they want to follow themselves—and
to the place where I will.
A light hath dawned upon me. Not to the
people is Zarathustra to speak, but to companions !
Zarathustra shall not be the herd's herdsman and
hound!
To allure many from the herd--for that purpose
hot dead core I will follow
## p. 20 (#82) ##############################################
20 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
have I come. The people and the herd must be
angry with me: a robber shall Zarathustra be
called by the herdsmen.
Herdsmen, I say, but they call themselves the
good and just. Herdsmen, I say, but they call
themselves the believers in the orthodox belief.
Behold the good and just! Whom do they
hate most? Him who breaketh up their tables of
values, the breaker, the law-breaker :—he, however,
is the creator.
Behold the believers of all beliefs! Whom do
they hate most? Him who breaketh up their tables
of values, the breaker, the law-breaker:—he, how-
ever, is the creator.
Companions, the creator seeketh, not corpses—
and not herds or believers either. Fellow-creators
the creator seeketh—those who grave new values
on new tables.
Companions, the creator seeketh, and fellow-
reapers: for everything is ripe for the harvest with
him. But he lacketh the hundred sickles: so he
plucketh the ears of corn and is vexed.
Companions, the creator seeketh, and such as
know how to whet their sickles. Destroyers, will
they be called, and despisers of good and evil. But
they are the reapers and rejoicers.
Fellow-creators, Zarathustra seeketh; fellow-
reapers and fellow-rejoicers, Zarathustra seeketh:
what hath he to do with herds and herdsmen and
corpses!
And thou, my first companion, rest in peace!
Well have I buried thee in thy hollow tree; well
have I hid thee from the wolves.
## p. 21 (#83) ##############################################
zarathustra's PROLOGUE. 21
But I part from thee; the time hath arrived.
'Twixt rosy dawn and rosy dawn there came unto
me a new truth.
I am not to be a herdsman, I am not to be a
grave-digger. Not any more will I discourse unto
the people; for the last time have I spoken unto
the dead.
With the creators, the reapers, and the rejoicers
will I associate: the rainbow will I show them, and
all the stairs to the Superman.
To the lone-dwellers will I sing my song, and to
the twain-dwellers; and unto him who hath still
ears for the unheard, will I make the heart heavy
with my happiness.
I make for my goal, I follow my course; over
the loitering and tardy will I leap. Thus let my
on-going be their down-going!
10.
This had Zarathustra said to his heart when the
sun stood at noon-tide. Then he looked inquiringly
aloft,—for he heard above him the sharp call of a
bird. And behold! An eagle swept through the
air in wide circles, and on it hung a serpent, not
like a prey, but like a friend: for it kept itself coiled
round the eagle's neck.
"They are mine animals," said Zarathustra, and
rejoiced in his heart.
"The proudest animal under the sun, and the
wisest animal under the sun,—they have come out
to reconnoitre.
They want to know whether Zarathustra still
liveth. Verily, do I still live?
## p. 22 (#84) ##############################################
22
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
More dangerous have I found it among men than
among animals; in dangerous paths goeth Zara-
thustra. Let mine animals lead me! ”
When Zarathustra had said this, he remembered
the words of the saint in the forest. Then he
sighed and spake thus to his heart:
“Would that I were wiser! Would that I were
wise from the very heart, like my serpent !
But I am asking the impossible. Therefore do
I ask my pride to go always with my wisdom !
And if my wisdom should some day forsake me:
-alas! it loveth to fly away ! -may my pride then
fly with my folly! ”
Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
## p. 23 (#85) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S DISCOURSES.
## p. 24 (#86) ##############################################
A
—-
## p. 25 (#87) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I desig-
nate to you: how the spirit becometh a camel, the
camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.
Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the
strong load-bearing spirit in which reverence
dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth
its strength.
What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit;
then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth
to be well laden.
What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh
the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me
and rejoice in my strength.
Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to
mortify one's pride? To exhibit one's folly in
order to mock at one's wisdom?
Or is it this: To desert our cause when it cele-
brateth its triumph? To ascend high mountains
to tempt the tempter?
Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of
knowledge, and for the sake of truth to suffer
hunger of soul?
Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters,
and make friends of the deaf, who never hear thy
requests?
Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the
## p. 26 (#88) ##############################################
26
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
water of truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot
toads ?
Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and
give one's hand to the phantom when it is going
to frighten us?
All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit
taketh upon itself: and like the camel, which, when
laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so hasteneth
the spirit into its wilderness.
But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the
second metamorphosis : here the spirit becometh
a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its
own wilderness.
Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to
him, and to its last God; for victory will it struggle
with the great dragon.
· What is the great dragon which the spirit is no
longer inclined to call Lord and God? “Thou-shalt,"
is the great dragon called. But the spirit of the
lion saith, “I will. ”
“Thou-shalt,” lieth in its path, sparkling with
gold—a scale-covered beast; and on every scale
glittereth golden, “Thou shalt ! ”.
The values of a thousand years glitter on those
scales, and thus speaketh the mightiest of all
dragons : “All the values of things-glitter on me.
All values have already been created, and all
created values — do I represent. Verily, there
shall be no ‘I will’any more. ” Thus speaketh the
dragon.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion
in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of
burden, which renounceth and is reverent?
## p. 27 (#89) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES. 27
To create new values—that, even the lion cannot
yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for
new creating—that can the might of the lion do.
To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay
even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is
need of the lion.
To assume the right to new values—that is the
most formidable assumption for a load-bearing
and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a spirit it
is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.
As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now
is it forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even
in the holiest things, that it may capture free-
dom from its love: the lion is needed for this
capture.
But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do,
which even the lion could not do? Why hath the
preying lion still to become a child?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new
beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first
movement, a holy Yea.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren,
there is needed a holy Yea unto life: its own will,
willeth now the spirit; his own world winneth the
world's outcast.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I
designated to you: how the spirit became a
camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a
child. —
Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he
abode in the town which is called The Pied Cow.
## p. 28 (#90) ##############################################
28 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF
VIRTUE.
People commended unto Zarathustra a wise man,
as one who could discourse well about sleep and
virtue: greatly was he honoured and rewarded for
it, and all the youths sat before his chair. To him
went Zarathustra, and sat among the youths before
his chair. And thus spake the wise man:
Respect and modesty in presence of sleep! That
is the first thing! And to go out of the way of all
who sleep badly and keep awake at night!
Modest is even the thief in presence of sleep: he
always stealeth softly through the night. Immodest,
however, is the night-watchman; immodestly he
carrieth his horn.
No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that
purpose to keep awake all day.
Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that
causeth wholesome weariness, and is poppy to the
soul.
Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself;
for overcoming is bitterness, and badly sleep the
unreconciled.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; other-
wise wilt thou seek truth during the night, and thy
soul will have been hungry.
Ten times must thou laugh during the day, and
be cheerful; otherwise thy stomach, the father of
affliction, will disturb thee in the night
.
Few people know it, but one must have all the
virtues in order to sleep well. Shall I bear false
witness? Shall I commit adultery?
## p. 29 (#91) ##############################################
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 29
Shall I covet my neighbour's maidservant? All
that would ill accord with good sleep.
And even if one have all the virtues, there is still
one thing needful: to send the virtues themselves
to sleep at the right time.
That they may not quarrel with one another, the
good females! And about thee, thou unhappy one!
Peace with God and thy neighbour: so desireth
good sleep. And peace also with thy neighbour's
devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in the night.
Honour to the government, and obedience, and
also to the crooked government! So desireth good
sleep. How can I help it, if power like to walk
on crooked legs?
He who leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture,
shall always be for me the best shepherd: so doth
it accord with good sleep.
Many honours I want not, nor great treasures:
they excite the spleen. But it is bad sleeping
without a good name and a little treasure.
A small company is more welcome to me than a
bad one: but they must come and go at the right
time. So doth it accord with good sleep.
Well, also, do the poor in spirit please me: they
promote sleep. Blessed are they, especially if one
always give in to them.
Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. When
night cometh, then take I good care not to summon
sleep. It disliketh to be summoned—sleep, the
lord of the virtues!
But I think of what I have done and thought
during the day. Thus ruminating, patient as a cow,
I ask myself: What were thy ten overcomings?
## p. 30 (#92) ##############################################
30 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
And what were the ten reconciliations, and the
ten truths, and the ten laughters with which my
heart enjoyed itself?
Thus pondering, and cradled by forty thoughts,
it overtaketh me all at once—sleep, the unsum-
moned, the lord of the virtues.
Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy.
Sleep toucheth my mouth, and it remaineth open.
Verily, on soft soles doth it come to me, the
dearest of thieves, and stealeth from me my
thoughts: stupid do I then stand, like this
academic chair.
But not much longer do I then stand: I already
lie-
When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus
speak, he laughed in his heart: for thereby had a
light dawned upon him. And thus spake he to his
heart:
A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty
thoughts: but I believe he knoweth well how to
sleep.
Happy even is he who liveth near this wise
man! Such sleep is contagious—even through a
thick wall it is contagious.
A magic resideth even in his academic chair.
And not in vain did the youths sit before the
preacher of virtue.
His wisdom is to keep awake in order to
sleep well. And verily, if life had no sense,
and had I to choose nonsense, this would be the
desirablest nonsense for me also.
Now know I well what people sought formerly
above all else when they sought teachers of virtue.
## p. 31 (#93) ##############################################
II.
—THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 31
Good sleep they sought for themselves, and poppy-
head virtues to promote it!
To all those belauded sages of the academic
chairs, wisdom was sleep without dreams: they
knew no higher significance of life.
Even at present, to be sure, there are some like
this preacher of virtue, and not always so honour-
able: but their time is past. And not much longer
do they stand: there they already lie.
Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall
soon nod to sleep. —
Thus spake Zarathustra.
III. —BACKWORLDSMEN.
Once on a time, Zarathustra also cast his fancy
beyond man, like all backworldsmen. The work
of a suffering and tortured God, did the world then
seem to me.
The dream—and diction—of a God, did the world
then seem to me; coloured vapours before the eyes
of a divinely dissatisfied one.
Good and evil, and joy and woe, and I and thou—
coloured vapours did they seem to me before crea-
tive eyes. The creator wished to look away from
himself,—thereupon he created the world.
Intoxicating joy is it for the sufferer to look
away from his suffering and forget himself. In-
toxicating joy and self-forgetting, did the world
once seem to me.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal
## p. 31 (#94) ##############################################
22 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
More dangerous have I found it among men than
among animals; in dangerous paths goeth Zara-
thustra. Let mine animals lead me! "
When Zarathustra had said this, he remembered
the words of the saint in the forest. Then he
sighed and spake thus to his heart:
"Would that I were wiser! Would that I were
wise from the very heart, like my serpent!
But I am asking the impossible. Therefore do
I ask my pride to go always with my wisdom!
And if my wisdom should some day forsake me:
—alas! it loveth to fly away! —may my pride then
fly with my folly! "
Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
## p. 31 (#95) ##############################################
ZARATHUSTRA'S DISCOURSES.
## p. 31 (#96) ##############################################
## p. 31 (#97) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I desig-
nate to you: how the spirit becometh a camel, the
camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.
Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the
strong load-bearing spirit in which reverence
dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth
its strength.
What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit;
then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth
to be well laden.
What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh
the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me
and rejoice in my strength.
Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to
mortify one's pride? To exhibit one's folly in
order to mock at one's wisdom?
Or is it this: To desert our cause when it cele-
brateth its triumph? To ascend high mountains
to tempt the tempter?
Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of
knowledge, and for the sake of truth to suffer
hunger of soul?
Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters,
and make friends of the deaf, who never hear thy
requests?
Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the
## p. 31 (#98) ##############################################
26 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
water of truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot
toads?
Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and
give one's hand to the phantom when it is going
to frighten us?
All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit
taketh upon itself: and like the camel, which, when
laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so hasteneth
the spirit into its wilderness.
But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the
second metamorphosis: here the spirit becometh
a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its
own wilderness.
Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to
him, and to its last God; for victory will it struggle
with the great dragon.
What is the great dragon which the spirit is no
longer inclined to call Lord and God? "Thou-shalt,"
is the great dragon called. But the spirit of the
lion saith, " I will. "
"Thou-shalt," lieth in its path, sparkling with
gold—a scale-covered beast; and on every scale
glittereth golden, "Thou shalt! "
The values of a thousand years glitter on those
scales, and thus speaketh the mightiest of all
dragons : " All the values of things—glitter on me.
All values have already been created, and all
created values — do I represent. Verily, there
shall be no ' I will' any more. " Thus speaketh the
dragon.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion
in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of
burden, which renounceth and is reverent?
## p. 31 (#99) ##############################################
I. —THE THREE METAMORPHOSES. 27
To create new values—that, even the lion cannot
yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for
new creating—that can the might of the lion do.
To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay
even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is
need of the lion.
To assume the right to new values—that is the
most formidable assumption for a load-bearing
and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a spirit it
is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.
As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now
is it forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even
in the holiest things, that it may capture free-
dom from its love: the lion is needed for this
capture.
But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do,
which even the lion could not do? Why hath the
preying lion still to become a child?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new
beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first
movement, a holy Yea.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren,
there is needed a holy Yea unto life: its own will,
willeth now the spirit; his own world winneth the
world's outcast.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I
designated to you: how the spirit became a
camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a
child. —
Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he
abode in the town which is called The Pied Cow.
## p. 31 (#100) #############################################
28 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF
VIRTUE.
People commended unto Zarathustra a wise man,
as one who could discourse well about sleep and
virtue: greatly was he honoured and rewarded for
it, and all the youths sat before his chair. To him
went Zarathustra, and sat among the youths before
his chair. And thus spake the wise man:
Respect and modesty in presence of sleep! That
is the first thing! And to go out of the way of all
who sleep badly and keep awake at night!
Modest is even the thief in presence of sleep: he
always stealeth softly through the night. Immodest,
however, is the night-watchman; immodestly he
carrieth his horn.
No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that
purpose to keep awake all day.
Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that
causeth wholesome weariness, and is poppy to the
soul.
Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself;
for overcoming is bitterness, and badly sleep the
unreconciled.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; other-
wise wilt thou seek truth during the night, and thy
soul will have been hungry.
Ten times must thou laugh during the day, and
be cheerful; otherwise thy stomach, the father of
affliction, will disturb thee in the night.
Few people know it, but one must have all the
virtues in order to sleep well. Shall I bear false
witness? Shall I commit adultery?
## p. 31 (#101) #############################################
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 29
Shall I covet my neighbour's maidservant? All
that would ill accord with good sleep.
And even if one have all the virtues, there is still
one thing needful: to send the virtues themselves
to sleep at the right time.
That they may not quarrel with one another, the
good females! And about thee, thou unhappy one!
Peace with God and thy neighbour: so desireth
good sleep. And peace also with thy neighbour's
devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in the night.
Honour to the government, and obedience, and
also to the crooked government! So desireth good
sleep. How can I help it, if power like to walk
on crooked legs?
He who leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture,
shall always be for me the best shepherd: so doth
it accord with good sleep.
Many honours I want not, nor great treasures:
they excite the spleen. But it is bad sleeping
without a good name and a little treasure.
A small company is more welcome to me than a
bad one: but they must come and go at the right
time. So doth it accord with good sleep.
Well, also, do the poor in spirit please me: they
promote sleep. Blessed are they, especially if one
always give in to them.
Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. When
night cometh, then take I good care not to summon
sleep. It disliketh to be summoned—sleep, the
lord of the virtues!
But I think of what I have done and thought
during the day. Thus ruminating, patient as a cow,
I ask myself: What were thy ten overcomings?
## p. 31 (#102) #############################################
30 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
And what were the ten reconciliations, and the
ten truths, and the ten laughters with which my
heart enjoyed itself?
Thus pondering, and cradled by forty thoughts,
it overtaketh me all at once—sleep, the unsum-
moned, the lord of the virtues.
Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy.
Sleep toucheth my mouth, and it remaineth open.
Verily, on soft soles doth it come to me, the
dearest of thieves, and stealeth from me my
thoughts: stupid do I then stand, like this
academic chair.
But not much longer do I then stand: I already
lie-
When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus
speak, he laughed in his heart: for thereby had a
light dawned upon him. And thus spake he to his
heart:
A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty
thoughts: but I believe he knoweth well how to
sleep.
Happy even is he who liveth near this wise
man! Such sleep is contagious—even through a
thick wall it is contagious.
A magic resideth even in his academic chair.
And not in vain did the youths sit before the
preacher of virtue.
His wisdom is to keep awake in order to
sleep well. And verily, if life had no sense,
and had I to choose nonsense, this would be the
desirablest nonsense for me also.
Now know I well what people sought formerly
above all else when they sought teachers of virtue.
## p. 31 (#103) #############################################
II. —THE ACADEMIC CHAIRS OF VIRTUE. 31
Good sleep they sought for themselves, and poppy-
head virtues to promote it!
To all those belauded sages of the academic
chairs, wisdom was sleep without dreams: they
knew no higher significance of life.
Even at present, to be sure, there are some like
this preacher of virtue, and not always so honour-
able: but their time is past. And not much longer
do they stand: there they already lie.
Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall
soon nod to sleep. —
Thus spake Zarathustra.
III. —BACKWORLDSMEN.
Once on a time, Zarathustra also cast his fancy
beyond man, like all backworldsmen. The work
of a suffering and tortured God, did the world then
seem to me.
The dream—and diction—of a God, did the world
then seem to me; coloured vapours before the eyes
of a divinely dissatisfied one.
Good and evil, and joy and woe, and I and thou—
coloured vapours did they seem to me before crea-
tive eyes. The creator wished to look away from
himself,—thereupon he created the world.
Intoxicating joy is it for the sufferer to look
away from his suffering and forget himself. In-
toxicating joy and self-forgetting, did the world
once seem to me.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal
## p. 32 (#104) #############################################
32 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
contradiction's image and imperfect image—an
intoxicating joy to its imperfect creator:—thus did
the world once seem to me.
Thus, once on a time, did I also cast my fancy
beyond man, like all backworldsmen. Beyond
man, forsooth?
Ah, ye brethren, that God whom I created was
human work and human madness, like all the
Gods!
A man was he, and only a poor fragment of a
man and ego. Out of mine own ashes and glow it
came unto me, that phantom. And verily, it came
not unto me from the beyond!
What happened, my brethren? I surpassed
myself, the suffering one; I carried mine own ashes
to the mountain; a brighter flame I contrived for
myself. And lo! Thereupon the phantom with-
drew from me!
To me the convalescent would it now be suffer-
ing and torment to believe in such phantoms:
suffering would it now be to me, and humiliation.
Thus speak I to backworldsmen.
Suffering was it, and impotence—that created all
backworlds; and the short madness of happiness,
which only the greatest sufferer experienceth.
Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate
with one leap, with a death-leap; a poor ignorant
weariness, unwilling even to will any longer: that
created all Gods and backworlds.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body
which despaired of the body—it groped with the
fingers of the infatuated spirit at the ultimate walls.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which
## p. 33 (#105) #############################################
III. —BACKWORLDSMEN. 33
despaired of the earth—it heard the bowels of
existence speaking unto it.
And then it sought to get through the ultimate
walls with its head—and not with its head only—
into " the other world. "
But that "other world" is well concealed from
man, that dehumanised, inhuman world, which is
a celestial naught; and the bowels of existence
do not speak unto man, except as man.
Verily, it is difficult to prove all being, and hard
to make it speak. Tell me, ye brethren, is not
the strangest of all things best proved?
Yea, this ego, with its contradiction and per-
plexity, speaketh most uprightly of its being—this
creating, willing, evaluing ego, which is the measure
and value of things.
And this most upright existence, the ego—it
speaketh of the body, and still implieth the body,
even when it museth and raveth and fluttereth with
broken wings.
Always more uprightly learneth it to speak, the
ego; and the more it learneth, the more doth it find
titles and honours for the body and the earth.
A new pride taught me mine ego, and that teach
I unto men: no longer to thrust the head into the
sand of celestial things, but to carry it freely, a
terrestrial head, which giveth meaning to the
earth!
A new will teach I unto men: to choose that
path which man hath followed blindly, and to
approve of it—and no longer to slink aside from
it, like the sick and perishing!
The sick and perishing—it was they who despised
c
## p. 34 (#106) #############################################
34 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, I.
the body and the earth, and invented the heavenly
world, and the redeeming blood-drops; but even
those sweet and sad poisons they borrowed from
the body and the earth!
From their misery they sought escape, and the
stars were too remote for them. Then they sighed:
"O that there were heavenly paths by which to
steal into another existence and into happiness! "
Then they contrived for themselves their by-paths
and bloody draughts!
Beyond the sphere of their body and this earth
they now fancied themselves transported, these
ungrateful ones. But to what did they owe the
convulsion and rapture of their transport? To
their body and this earth.
Gentle is Zarathustra to the sickly.
