No More Learning

"OtW: ,, unfamiliar God ? —
^my hour?
'*ia, *,* ,' ie, pressest—
io closely!
I


## p. 307 (#456) ############################################

306
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
think about that. Just now, however, a cry of
distress calleth me hastily away from thee. "
Thus spake Zarathustra.
LXV. –THE MAGICIAN.
I.
When however Zarathustra had gone round a
rock, then saw he on the same path, not far below
him, a man who threw his limbs about like a
maniac, and at last tumbled to the ground on his
belly. “Halt! ” said then Zarathustra to his heart,
"he there must surely be the higher man, from him
came that dreadful cry of distress, I will see if I
can help him. ” When, however, he ran to the spot
where the man lay on the ground, he found a
trembling old man, with fixed eyes; and in spite
of all Zarathustra's efforts to lift him and set him
again on his feet, it was all in vain. The unfortunate
one, also, did not seem to notice that some one was
beside him; on the contrary, he continually looked
around with moving gestures, like one forsaken and
isolated from all the world. At last, however, after
much trembling, and convulsion, and curling-him-
self-up, he began to lament thus :
Who warm'th me, who lov'th me still?
Give ardent fingers !
Give heartening charcoal-warmers !
Prone, outstretched, trembling,
Like him, half dead and cold, whose feet one
warm'th-


## p. 307 (#457) ############################################

LXV. -THE MAGICIAN.
307
And shaken, ah! by unfamiliar fevers,
Shivering with sharpened, icy-cold frost-arrows,
By thee pursued, my fancy!
Ineffable! Recondite! Sore-frightening!
Thou huntsman 'hind the cloud-banks !
Now lighthing-struck by thee,
Thou mocking eye that me in darkness watcheth :
_Thus do I lie,
Bend myself, twist myself, convulsed
With all eternal torture,
And smitten
By thee, cruellest huntsman,
Thou unfamiliar-God . . .
Smite deeper !
Smite yet once more!
Pierce through and rend my heart !
What mean'th this torture
With dull, indented arrows ?
Why look'st thou hither,
Of human pain not weary,
With mischief-loving, godly flash-glances ?
Not murder wilt thou,
But torture, torture ?
For why-me torture,
Thou misr'ief-loving, unfamiliar God ? -
Ha! Ha!
Thou stealest nigh
In midnight's gloomy hour? . . .
What wilt thou ?
Speak!
Thou crowdst me, pressest-
Ha! now far too closely !


## p. 307 (#458) ############################################

306 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
think about that. Just now, however, a cry of
distress calleth me hastily away from thee. "
Thus spake Zarathustra.
LXV. —THE MAGICIAN.
I.
When however Zarathustra had gone round a
rock, then saw he on the same path, not far below
him, a man who threw his limbs about like a
maniac, and at last tumbled to the ground on his
belly. "Halt! " said then Zarathustra to his heart,
"he there must surely be the higher man, from him
came that dreadful cry of distress,—I will see if I
can help him. " When, however, he ran to the spot
where the man lay on the ground, he found a
trembling old man, with fixed eyes; and in spite
of all Zarathustra's efforts to lift him and set him
again on his feet, it was all in vain. The unfortunate
one, also, did not seem to notice that some one was
beside him; on the contrary, he continually looked
around with moving gestures, like one forsaken and
isolated from all the world. At last, however, after
much trembling, and convulsion, and curling-him-
self-up, he began to lament thus:
Who warm'th me, who lov'th me still?
Give ardent fingers!
Give heartening charcoal-warmers!
Prone, outstretched, trembling,
Like him, half dead and cold, whose feet one
warm'th—


## p. 307 (#459) ############################################

LXV. —THE MAGICIAN. 307
And shaken, ah! by unfamiliar fevers,
Shivering with sharpened, icy-cold frost-arrows,
By thee pursued, my fancy!
Ineffable! Recondite! Sore-frightening!
Thou huntsman 'hind the cloud-banks!
Now lightning-struck by thee,
Thou mocking eye that me in darkness watcheth:
—Thus do I lie,
Bend myself, twist myself, convulsed
With all eternal torture,
And smitten
By thee, cruellest huntsman,
Thou unfamiliar—God . . .
Smite deeper!
Smite yet once more!
Pierce through and rend my heart!
What mean'th this torture
With dull, indented arrows?
Why look'st thou hither,
Of human pain not weary,
With mischief-loving, godly flash-glances?
Not murder wilt thou,
But torture, torture?
For why—me torture,
Thou misr'. ief-loving, unfamiliar God? —
Ha! Ha!
Thou stealest nigh
In midnight's gloomy hour? . . .
What wilt thou?
Speak!
Thou crowdst me, pressest—
Ha! now far too closely!


## p. 308 (#460) ############################################

308
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
Thou hearst me breathing,
Thou o'erhearst my heart,
Thou ever jealous one!
Of what, pray, ever jealous ?
Off! Off !
For why the ladder ?
Wouldst thou get in ?
To heart in-clamber?
To mine own secretest
Conceptions in-clamber?
Shameless one! Thou unknown one ! —Thief!
What seekst thou by thy stealing?
What seekst thou by thy hearkening?
What seekst thou by thy torturing ?
Thou torturer!
Thou-hangman-God!
Or shall I, as the mastiffs do,
Roll me before thee?
And cringing, enraptured, frantical,
My tail friendly-waggle !
In vain !
Goad further!
Cruellest goader !
No dog—thy game just am I,
Cruellest huntsman !
Thy proudest of captives,
Thou robber 'hind the cloud-banks . . .
Speak finally!
Thou lightning-veiled one! Thou unknown one!
Speak!
What wilt thou, highway-ambusher, from--me?
What wilt thou, unfamiliar-God?


## p. 309 (#461) ############################################

LXV. -THE MAGICIAN.
309
What ?
Ransom-gold?
How much of ransom-gold ?
Solicit much--that bid'th my pride!
And be concise-that bid'th mine other pride!
Ha! Ha!
Memwantst thou? me?
-Entire? . . .
Ha! Ha!
And torturest me, fool that thou art,
Dead-torturest quite my pride ?
Give love to me-who warm'th me still ?
Who lov'th me still ? —
Give ardent fingers,
Give heartening charcoal-warmers,
Give me, the lonesomest,
The ice (ah! seven-fold frozen ice,
For very enemies,
For foes, doth make one thirst),
Give, yield to me,
Cruellest foe,
-Thyself ! -- -
Away!
There fled he surely,
My final, only comrade,
My greatest foe,
Mine unfamiliar-
My hangman-God! . . .
–Nay !
Come thou back!
With all of thy great tortures !


## p. 310 (#462) ############################################

310
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
To me the last of lonesome ones,
Oh, come thou back!
All my hot tears in streamlets trickle
Their course to thee!
And all my final hearty fervour-
Up-glow'th to thee !
Oh, come thou back,
Mine unfamiliar God! my pain !
My final bliss !
2.
-Here, however, Zarathustra could no longer re-
strain himself; he took his staff and struck the
wailer with all his might. “Stop this,” cried he to
him with wrathful laughter, “stop this, thou stage-
player! Thou false coiner! Thou liar from the
very heart! I know thee well!
I will soon make warm legs to thee, thou evil
magician: I know well how-to make it hot for
such as thou ! ”
-"Leave off,” said the old man, and sprang up
from the ground, "strike me no more, O Zara-
thustra! I did it only for amusement!
· That kind of thing belongeth to mine art. Thee
thyself, I wanted to put to the proof when I gave
this performance. And verily, thou hast well de-
tected me!
But thou thyself-hast given me no small proof
of thyself: thou art hard, thou wise Zarathustra!
Hard strikest thou with thy 'truths,' thy cudgel
forceth from me—this truth! ”
—“Flatter not,” answered Zarathustra, still ex-
cited and frowning, “thou stage-player from the


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LXV. —THE MAGICIAN.
311
heart! Thou art false : why speakest thou—of
truth!
Thou peacock of peacocks, thou sea of vanity;
what didst thou represent before me, thou evil
magician; whom was I meant to believe in when
thou wailedst in such wise? "
“The penitent in spirit," said the old man, “it was
him-I represented; thou thyself once devisedst
this expression-
-The poet and magician who at last turneth
his spirit against himself, the transformed one
who freezeth to death by his bad science and con-
science.
And just acknowledge it: it was long, O Zara-
thustra, before thou discoveredst my trick and lie!
Thou believedst in my distress when thou heldest
my head with both thy hands,-
-I heard thee lament we have loved him too
little, loved him too little ! ' Because I so far de-
ceived thee, my wickedness rejoiced in me. ”
"Thou mayest have deceived subtler ones than
I," said Zarathustra sternly. “I am not on my
guard against deceivers ; I have to be without pre-
caution : so willeth my lot.
Thou, however,-must deceive : so far do I know
thee! Thou must ever be equivocal, trivocal, quad-
rivocal, and quinquivocal! Even what thou hast
now confessed, is not nearly true enough nor false
enough for me!
Thou bad false coiner, how couldst thou do other-
wise! Thy very malady wouldst thou whitewash
if thou showed thyself naked to thy physician.
Thus didst thou whitewash thy lie before me


## p. 312 (#464) ############################################

312
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
when thou saidst : ‘I did so only for amusement!
'
There was also seriousness therein, thou art some-
thing of a penitent-in-spirit !
I divine thee well: thou hast become the
enchanter of all the world; but for thyself thou
hast no lie or artifice left,—thou art disenchanted
to thyself!
Thou hast reaped disgust as thy one truth. No
word in thee is any longer genuine, but thy mouth
is so: that is to say, the disgust that cleaveth
unto thy mouth. "--
-“Who art thou at all ! ” cried here the old
magician with defiant voice, “who dareth to speak
thus unto me, the greatest man now living ? ”—and
a green flash shot from his eye at Zarathustra. But
immediately after he changed, and said sadly:
"O Zarathustra, I am weary of it, I am disgusted
with mine arts, I am not great, why do I dissemble !
But thou knowest it well—I sought for greatness!
A great man, I wanted to appear, and persuaded
many; but the lie hath been beyond my power.
On it do I collapse.
o Zarathustra, everything is a lie in me; but
that I collapse--this my collapsing is genuine ! ”—
“It honoureth thee," said Zarathustra gloomily,
looking down with sidelong glance, “it honour-
eth thee that thou soughtest for greatness, but it
betrayeth thee also. Thou art not great.
Thou bad old magician, that is the best and the
honestest thing I honour in thee, that thou hast
become weary of thyself, and hast expressed it: 'I
am not great. '
Therein do I honour thee as a penitent-in-spirit,


## p. 313 (#465) ############################################

LXV. —THE MAGICIAN.
313
and although only for the twinkling of an eye, in
that one moment wast thou-genuine.
But tell me, what seekest thou here in my forests
and rocks? And if thou hast put thyself in my
way, what proof of me wouldst thou have ? -
-Wherein didst thou put me to the test ? ”
Thus spake Zarathustra, and his eyes sparkled.
But the old magician kept silence for a while ; then
said he : “Did I put thee to the test? I-seek only.
O Zarathustra, I seek a genuine one, a right one,
a simple one, an unequivocal one, a man of perfect
honesty, a vessel of wisdom, a saint of knowledge,
a great man !
Knowest thou it not, O Zarathustra ? I seek
Zarathustra. "
-And here there arose a long silence between
them; Zarathustra, however, became profoundly
absorbed in thought, so that he shut his eyes. But
afterwards coming back to the situation, he grasped
the hand of the magician, and said, full of politeness
and policy:
"Well! Up thither leadeth the way, there is the
cave of Zarathustra. In it mayest thou seek him
whom thou wouldst fain find.
And ask counsel of mine animals, mine eagle
and my serpent : they shall help thee to seek. My
cave however is large.
I myself, to be sure--I have as yet seen no great
man. That which is great, the acutest eye is at
present insensible to it. It is the kingdom of the
populace.
Many a one have I found who stretched and


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314 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
inflated himself, and the people cried: 'Behold, a
great man! ' But what good do all bellows do!
The wind cometh out at last.
At last bursteth the frog which hath inflated
itself too long: then cometh out the wind. To
prick a swollen one in the belly, I call good pastime.
Hear that, ye boys!
Our to-day is of the populace: who still knoweth
what is great or what is small! Who could there
seek successfully for greatness! A fool only: it
succeedeth with fools.
Thou seekest for great men, thou strange fool?
Who taught that to thee? Is to-day the time for
it? Oh, thou bad seeker, why dost thou—tempt
me? "
Thus spake Zarathustra, comforted in his heart,
and went laughing on his way.
LXVI. —OUT OF SERVICE.
Not long, however, after Zarathustra had freed
himself from the magician, he again saw a person
sitting beside the path which he followed, namely
a tall, black man, with a haggard, pale countenance:
this man grieved him exceedingly. "Alas," said
he to his heart, " there sitteth disguised affliction;
methinketh he is of the type of the priests: what
do they want in my domain?
What! Hardly have I escaped from that
magician, and must another necromancer again run
across my path,—
—Some sorcerer with laying-on-of-hands, some


## p. 315 (#467) ############################################

LXVI. —OUT OF SERVICE. 315
sombre wonder-worker by the grace of God, some
anointed world-maligner, whom, may the devil take!
But the devil is never at the place which would
be his right place: he always cometh too late, that
cursed dwarf and club-foot! "—
Thus cursed Zarathustra impatiently in his heart,
and considered how with averted look he might
slip past the black man. But behold, it came about
otherwise. For at the same moment had the sitting
one already perceived him; and not unlike one
whom an unexpected happiness overtaketh, he
sprang to his feet, and went straight towards
Zarathustra.
"Whoever thou art, thou traveller," said he,
"help a strayed one, a seeker, an old man, who may
here easily come to grief!
The world here is strange to me, and remote;
wild beasts also did I hear howling; and he who
could have given me protection—he is himself
no more.
I was seeking the last pious man, a saint and an
anchorite, who, alone in his forest, had not yet heard
of what all the world knoweth at present. "
"What doth all the world know at present? "
asked Zarathustra. "Perhaps that the old God no
longer liveth, in whom all the world once believed? "
"Thou sayest it," answered the old man sorrow-
fully. "And I served that old God until his last
hour.
Now, however, am I out of service, without
master, and yet not free; likewise am I no longer
merry even for an hour, except it be in recollections.
Therefore did I ascend into these mountains, that
S


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316
THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
I might finally have a festival for myself once more,
as becometh an old pope and church-father : for
know it, that I am the last pope ! -a festival of pious
recollections and divine services.
Now, however, is he himself dead, the most pious
of men, the saint in the forest, who praised his God
constantly with singing and mumbling.
He himself found I no longer when I found his
cot-but two wolves found I therein, which howled
on account of his death,-for all animals loved him.
Then did I haste away.
Had I thus come in vain into these forests and
mountains ? Then did my heart determine that I
should seek another, the most pious of all those
who believe not in God, my heart determined that
I should seek Zarathustra ! ”
Thus spake the hoary man, and gazed with keen
eyes at him who stood before him. Zarathustra
however seized the hand of the old pope and
regarded it a long while with admiration.
"Lo! thou venerable one," said he then, “what
a fine and long hand! That is the hand of one
who hath ever dispensed blessings. Now, how-
ever, doth it hold fast him whom thou seekest, me,
Zarathustra.
It is I, the ungodly Zarathustra, who saith :
'Who is ungodlier than I, that I may enjoy his
teaching ? '"-
Thus spake Zarathustra, and penetrated with his
glances the thoughts and arrear-thoughts of the
old pope. At last the latter began :
"He who most loved and possessed him hath now
also lost him most-


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LXVI. -OUT OF SERVICE.
317
-Lo, I myself am surely the most godless of us
at present? But who could rejoice at that! ”
—“Thou servedst him to the last? " asked Zara-
thustra thoughtfully, after a deep silence, “thou
knowest how he died? Is it true what they say,
that sympathy choked him;
- That he saw how man hung on the cross, and
could not endure it ;-that his love to man became
his hell, and at last his death? "- -
The old pope however did not answer, but looked
aside timidly, with a painful and gloomy expression.
"Let him go,” said Zarathustra, after prolonged
meditation, still looking the old man straight in
the eye.
“Let him go, he is gone. And though it
honoureth thee that thou speakest only in praise
of this dead one, yet thou knowest as well as I who
he was, and that he went curious ways. ”
"To speak before three eyes," said the old pope
cheerfully (he was blind of one eye), “in divine
matters I am more enlightened than Zarathustra
himself—and may well be so.
My love served him long years, my will followed
all his will. A good servant, however, knoweth
everything, and many a thing even which a master
hideth from himself.
He was a hidden God, full of secrecy. Verily,
he did not come by his son otherwise than by secret
ways. At the door of his faith standeth adultery.
Whoever extolleth him as a God of love, doth
not think highly enough of love itself. Did not
that God want also to be judge? But the loving
one loveth irrespective of reward and requital.


## p. 318 (#470) ############################################

318 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
When he was young, that God out of the Orient,
then was he harsh and revengeful, and built himself
a hell for the delight of his favourites.
At last, however, he became old and soft and
mellow and pitiful, more like a grandfather than a
father, but most like a tottering old grandmother.
There did he sit shrivelled in his chimney-corner,
fretting on account of his weak legs, world-weary,
will-weary, and one day he suffocated of his all-too-
great pity. "
"Thou old pope," said here Zarathustra inter-
posing, " hast thou seen that with thine eyes? It
could well have happened in that way: in that
way, and also otherwise. When Gods die they
always die many kinds of death.
Well! At all events, one way or other—he is
gone! He was counter to the taste of mine ears
and eyes; worse than that I should not like to say
against him.
I love everything that looketh bright and speaketh
honestly. But he—thou knowest it, forsooth, thou
old priest, there was something of thy type in him,
the priest-type—he was equivocal.
He was also indistinct. How he raged at us,
this wrath-snorter, because we understood him
badly! But why did he not speak more clearly?
And if the fault lay in our ears, why did he give
us ears that heard him badly? If there was dirt
in our ears, well! who put it in them?
Too much miscarried with him, this potter who
had not learned thoroughly! That he took revenge
on his pots and creations, however, because they
turned out badly—that was a sin against good taste.


## p. 319 (#471) ############################################

LXVI. -OUT OF SERVICE.
319
There is also good taste in piety: this at last
said : ‘Away with such a God! Better to have no
God, better to set up destiny on one's own account,
better to be a fool, better to be God oneself! '”
-"What do I hear! ” said then the old pope,
with intent ears; “O Zarathustra, thou art more
pious than thou believest, with such an unbelief!
Some God in thee hath converted thee to thine
ungodliness.
Is it not thy piety itself which no longer letteth
thee believe in a God? And thine over-great
honesty will yet lead thee even beyond good and
evil!
Behold, what hath been reserved for thee? Thou
hast eyes and hands and mouth, which have been
predestined for blessing from eternity. One doth
not bless with the hand alone.
Nigh unto thee, though thou professest to be the
ungodliest one, I feel a hale and holy odour of long
benedictions : I feel glad and grieved thereby.
Let me be thy guest, O Zarathustra, for a single
night! Nowhere on earth shall I now feel better
than with thee! ”-
“ Amen! So shall it be! ” said Zarathustra with
great astonishment; "up thither leadeth the way,
there lieth the cave of Zarathustra.
Gladly, forsooth, would I conduct thee thither
myself, thou venerable one; for I love all pious
men. But now a cry of distress calleth me hastily
away from thee.
In my domain shall no one come to grief; my
cave is a good haven. And best of all would I like


## p. 319 (#472) ############################################

318 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.
When he was young, that God out of the Orient,
then was he harsh and revengeful, and built himself
a hell for the delight of his favourites.
At last, however, he became old and soft and
mellow and pitiful, more like a grandfather than a
father, but most like a tottering old grandmother.
There did he sit shrivelled in his chimney-corner,
fretting on account of his weak legs, world-weary,
will-weary, and one day he suffocated of his all-too-
great pity. "
"Thou old pope," said here Zarathustra inter-
posing, " hast thou seen that with thine eyes? It
could well have happened in that way: in that
way, and also otherwise. When Gods die they
always die many kinds of death.
Well! At all events, one way or other—he is
gone! He was counter to the taste of mine ears
and eyes; worse than that I should not like to say
against him.
I love everything that looketh bright and speaketh
honestly. But he—thou knowest it, forsooth, thou
old priest, there was something of thy type in him,
the priest-type—he was equivocal.
He was also indistinct. How he raged at us,
this wrath-snorter, because we understood him
badly! But why did he not speak more clearly?
And if the fault lay in our ears, why did he give
us ears that heard him badly? If there was dirt
in our ears, well! who put it in them?
Too much miscarried with him, this potter who
had not learned thoroughly! That he took revenge
on his pots and creations, however, because they
turned out badly—that was a sin against good taste.


## p. 319 (#473) ############################################

LXVI. —OUT OF SERVICE. 319
There is also good taste in piety: this at last
said: 'Away with such a God! Better to have no
God, better to set up destiny on one's own account,
better to be a fool, better to be God oneself! '"
—"What do I hear! " said then the old pope,
with intent ears; "O Zarathustra, thou art more
pious than thou believest, with such an unbelief!
Some God in thee hath converted thee to thine
ungodliness.
Is it not thy piety itself which no longer letteth
thee believe in a God? And thine over-great
honesty will yet lead thee even beyond good and
evil!
Behold, what hath been reserved for thee? Thou
hast eyes and hands and mouth, which have been
predestined for blessing from eternity. One doth
not bless with the hand alone.
Nigh unto thee, though thou professest to be the
ungodliest one, I feel a hale and holy odour of long
benedictions: I feel glad and grieved thereby.
Let me be thy guest, O Zarathustra, for a single
night! Nowhere on earth shall I now feel better
than with thee! "—
"Amen! So shall it be! " said Zarathustra with
great astonishment; "up thither leadeth the way,
there lieth the cave of Zarathustra.
Gladly, forsooth, would I conduct thee thither
myself, thou venerable one; for I love all pious
men. But now a cry of distress calleth me hastily
away from thee.
In my domain shall no one come to grief; my
cave is a good haven. And best of all would I like


## p. 320 (#474) ############################################

320 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV.