Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None - 22

his experience with the fire-dog to his disciples, fails to get them
interested in his narrative, and we also may be only too ready to turn
over these pages under the impression that they are little more than
a mere phantasy or poetical flight. Zarathustra’s interview with the
fire-dog is, however, of great importance. In it we find Nietzsche
face to face with the creature he most sincerely loathes—the spirit
of revolution, and we obtain fresh hints concerning his hatred of the
anarchist and rebel. “‘Freedom’ ye all roar most eagerly,” he says to
the fire-dog, “but I have unlearned the belief in ‘Great Events’ when
there is much roaring and smoke about them. Not around the inventors
of new noise, but around the inventors of new values, doth the world
revolve; INAUDIBLY it revolveth.”
Chapter XLI. The Soothsayer.
This refers, of course, to Schopenhauer. Nietzsche, as is well known,
was at one time an ardent follower of Schopenhauer. He overcame
Pessimism by discovering an object in existence; he saw the possibility
of raising society to a higher level and preached the profoundest
Optimism in consequence.
Chapter XLII. Redemption.
Zarathustra here addresses cripples. He tells them of other
cripples—the GREAT MEN in this world who have one organ or faculty
inordinately developed at the cost of their other faculties. This is
doubtless a reference to a fact which is too often noticeable in the
case of so many of the world’s giants in art, science, or religion. In
verse 19 we are told what Nietzsche called Redemption—that is to say,
the ability to say of all that is past: “Thus would I have it.” The
in ability to say this, and the resentment which results therefrom,
he regards as the source of all our feelings of revenge, and all our
desires to punish—punishment meaning to him merely a euphemism for the
word revenge, invented in order to still our consciences. He who can be
proud of his enemies, who can be grateful to them for the obstacles they
have put in his way; he who can regard his worst calamity as but the
extra strain on the bow of his life, which is to send the arrow of
his longing even further than he could have hoped;—this man knows no
revenge, neither does he know despair, he truly has found redemption and
can turn on the worst in his life and even in himself, and call it his
best (see Notes on Chapter LVII.).
Chapter XLIII. Manly Prudence.
This discourse is very important. In “Beyond Good and Evil” we hear
often enough that the select and superior man must wear a mask, and
here we find this injunction explained. “And he who would not languish
amongst men, must learn to drink out of all glasses: and he who would
keep clean amongst men, must know how to wash himself even with dirty
water.” This, I venture to suggest, requires some explanation. At a time
when individuality is supposed to be shown most tellingly by putting
boots on one’s hands and gloves on one’s feet, it is somewhat refreshing
to come across a true individualist who feels the chasm between himself
and others so deeply, that he must perforce adapt himself to them
outwardly, at least, in all respects, so that the inner difference
should be overlooked. Nietzsche practically tells us here that it is not
he who intentionally wears eccentric clothes or does eccentric things
who is truly the individualist. The profound man, who is by nature
differentiated from his fellows, feels this difference too keenly to
call attention to it by any outward show. He is shamefast and bashful
with those who surround him and wishes not to be discovered by them,
just as one instinctively avoids all lavish display of comfort or wealth
in the presence of a poor friend.
Chapter XLIV. The Stillest Hour.
This seems to me to give an account of the great struggle which must
have taken place in Nietzsche’s soul before he finally resolved to make
known the more esoteric portions of his teaching. Our deepest feelings
crave silence. There is a certain self-respect in the serious man which
makes him hold his profoundest feelings sacred. Before they are uttered
they are full of the modesty of a virgin, and often the oldest sage will
blush like a girl when this virginity is violated by an indiscretion
which forces him to reveal his deepest thoughts.
...
PART III.
This is perhaps the most important of all the four parts. If it
contained only “The Vision and the Enigma” and “The Old and New Tables”
I should still be of this opinion; for in the former of these discourses
we meet with what Nietzsche regarded as the crowning doctrine of his
philosophy and in “The Old and New Tables” we have a valuable epitome of
practically all his leading principles.
Chapter XLVI. The Vision and the Enigma.
“The Vision and the Enigma” is perhaps an example of Nietzsche in his
most obscure vein. We must know how persistently he inveighed against
the oppressing and depressing influence of man’s sense of guilt and
consciousness of sin in order fully to grasp the significance of this
discourse. Slowly but surely, he thought the values of Christianity and
Judaic traditions had done their work in the minds of men. What were
once but expedients devised for the discipline of a certain portion of
humanity, had now passed into man’s blood and had become instincts. This
oppressive and paralysing sense of guilt and of sin is what Nietzsche
refers to when he speaks of “the spirit of gravity.” This creature
half-dwarf, half-mole, whom he bears with him a certain distance on his
climb and finally defies, and whom he calls his devil and arch-enemy, is
nothing more than the heavy millstone “guilty conscience,” together with
the concept of sin which at present hangs round the neck of men. To rise
above it—to soar—is the most difficult of all things to-day. Nietzsche
is able to think cheerfully and optimistically of the possibility of
life in this world recurring again and again, when he has once cast the
dwarf from his shoulders, and he announces his doctrine of the Eternal
Recurrence of all things great and small to his arch-enemy and in
defiance of him.
That there is much to be said for Nietzsche’s hypothesis of the Eternal
Recurrence of all things great and small, nobody who has read the
literature on the subject will doubt for an instant; but it remains a
very daring conjecture notwithstanding and even in its ultimate effect,
as a dogma, on the minds of men, I venture to doubt whether Nietzsche
ever properly estimated its worth (see Note on Chapter LVII.).
What follows is clear enough. Zarathustra sees a young shepherd
struggling on the ground with a snake holding fast to the back of his
throat. The sage, assuming that the snake must have crawled into the
young man’s mouth while he lay sleeping, runs to his help and pulls
at the loathsome reptile with all his might, but in vain. At last, in
despair, Zarathustra appeals to the young man’s will. Knowing full well
what a ghastly operation he is recommending, he nevertheless cries,
“Bite! Bite! Its head off! Bite!” as the only possible solution of the
difficulty. The young shepherd bites, and far away he spits the
snake’s head, whereupon he rises, “No longer shepherd, no longer man—a
transfigured being, a light-surrounded being, that LAUGHED! Never on
earth laughed a man as he laughed!”
In this parable the young shepherd is obviously the man of to-day; the
snake that chokes him represents the stultifying and paralysing social
values that threaten to shatter humanity, and the advice “Bite! Bite!”
is but Nietzsche’s exasperated cry to mankind to alter their values
before it is too late.
Chapter XLVII. Involuntary Bliss.
This, like “The Wanderer”, is one of the many introspective passages
in the work, and is full of innuendos and hints as to the Nietzschean
outlook on life.
Chapter XLVIII. Before Sunrise.
Here we have a record of Zarathustra’s avowal of optimism, as also the
important statement concerning “Chance” or “Accident” (verse 27). Those
who are familiar with Nietzsche’s philosophy will not require to be told
what an important role his doctrine of chance plays in his teaching.
The Giant Chance has hitherto played with the puppet “man,”—this is
the fact he cannot contemplate with equanimity. Man shall now exploit
chance, he says again and again, and make it fall on its knees before
him! (See verse 33 in “On the Olive-Mount”, and verses 9–10 in “The
Bedwarfing Virtue”).
Chapter XLIX. The Bedwarfing Virtue.
This requires scarcely any comment. It is a satire on modern man and
his belittling virtues. In verses 23 and 24 of the second part of the
discourse we are reminded of Nietzsche’s powerful indictment of the
great of to-day, in the Antichrist (Aphorism 43):—“At present
nobody has any longer the courage for separate rights, for rights of
domination, for a feeling of reverence for himself and his equals,—FOR
PATHOS OF DISTANCE.... Our politics are MORBID from this want of
courage!—The aristocracy of character has been undermined most craftily
by the lie of the equality of souls; and if the belief in the ‘privilege
of the many,’ makes revolutions and WILL CONTINUE TO MAKE them, it is
Christianity, let us not doubt it, it is CHRISTIAN valuations, which
translate every revolution merely into blood and crime!” (see also
“Beyond Good and Evil”, pages 120, 121). Nietzsche thought it was a
bad sign of the times that even rulers have lost the courage of
their positions, and that a man of Frederick the Great’s power and
distinguished gifts should have been able to say: “Ich bin der erste
Diener des Staates” (I am the first servant of the State.) To this
utterance of the great sovereign, verse 24 undoubtedly refers.
“Cowardice” and “Mediocrity,” are the names with which he labels modern
notions of virtue and moderation.
In Part III., we get the sentiments of the discourse “In the Happy
Isles”, but perhaps in stronger terms. Once again we find Nietzsche
thoroughly at ease, if not cheerful, as an atheist, and speaking with
vertiginous daring of making chance go on its knees to him. In verse
20, Zarathustra makes yet another attempt at defining his entirely
anti-anarchical attitude, and unless such passages have been completely
overlooked or deliberately ignored hitherto by those who will persist in
laying anarchy at his door, it is impossible to understand how he ever
became associated with that foul political party.
The last verse introduces the expression, “THE GREAT NOONTIDE!” In the
poem to be found at the end of “Beyond Good and Evil”, we meet with
the expression again, and we shall find it occurring time and again in
Nietzsche’s works. It will be found fully elucidated in the fifth part
of “The Twilight of the Idols”; but for those who cannot refer to
this book, it were well to point out that Nietzsche called the present
period—our period—the noon of man’s history. Dawn is behind us. The
childhood of mankind is over. Now we KNOW; there is now no longer any
excuse for mistakes which will tend to botch and disfigure the type man.
“With respect to what is past,” he says, “I have, like all discerning
ones, great toleration, that is to say, GENEROUS self-control.... But my
feeling changes suddenly, and breaks out as soon as I enter the modern
period, OUR period. Our age KNOWS...” (See Note on Chapter LXX.).
Chapter LI. On Passing-by.
Here we find Nietzsche confronted with his extreme opposite, with
him therefore for whom he is most frequently mistaken by the unwary.
“Zarathustra’s ape” he is called in the discourse. He is one of those
at whose hands Nietzsche had to suffer most during his life-time, and
at whose hands his philosophy has suffered most since his death. In this
respect it may seem a little trivial to speak of extremes meeting; but
it is wonderfully apt. Many have adopted Nietzsche’s mannerisms and
word-coinages, who had nothing in common with him beyond the ideas and
“business” they plagiarised; but the superficial observer and a large
portion of the public, not knowing of these things,—not knowing perhaps
that there are iconoclasts who destroy out of love and are therefore
creators, and that there are others who destroy out of resentment and
revengefulness and who are therefore revolutionists and anarchists,—are
prone to confound the two, to the detriment of the nobler type.
If we now read what the fool says to Zarathustra, and note the tricks of
speech he has borrowed from him: if we carefully follow the attitude
he assumes, we shall understand why Zarathustra finally interrupts him.
“Stop this at once,” Zarathustra cries, “long have thy speech and
thy species disgusted me.... Out of love alone shall my contempt and my
warning bird take wing; BUT NOT OUT OF THE SWAMP!” It were well if
this discourse were taken to heart by all those who are too ready to
associate Nietzsche with lesser and noiser men,—with mountebanks and
mummers.
Chapter LII. The Apostates.
It is clear that this applies to all those breathless and hasty “tasters
of everything,” who plunge too rashly into the sea of independent
thought and “heresy,” and who, having miscalculated their strength, find
it impossible to keep their head above water. “A little older, a little
colder,” says Nietzsche. They soon clamber back to the conventions of
the age they intended reforming. The French then say “le diable se fait
hermite,” but these men, as a rule, have never been devils, neither
do they become angels; for, in order to be really good or evil, some
strength and deep breathing is required. Those who are more interested
in supporting orthodoxy than in being over nice concerning the kind of
support they give it, often refer to these people as evidence in favour
of the true faith.
Chapter LIII. The Return Home.
This is an example of a class of writing which may be passed over too
lightly by those whom poetasters have made distrustful of poetry. From
first to last it is extremely valuable as an autobiographical note. The
inevitable superficiality of the rabble is contrasted with the peaceful
and profound depths of the anchorite. Here we first get a direct hint
concerning Nietzsche’s fundamental passion—the main force behind all
his new values and scathing criticism of existing values. In verse 30
we are told that pity was his greatest danger. The broad altruism of the
law-giver, thinking over vast eras of time, was continually being pitted
by Nietzsche, in himself, against that transient and meaner sympathy for
the neighbour which he more perhaps than any of his contemporaries had
suffered from, but which he was certain involved enormous dangers not
only for himself but also to the next and subsequent generations (see
Note B., where “pity” is mentioned among the degenerate virtues). Later
in the book we shall see how his profound compassion leads him into
temptation, and how frantically he struggles against it. In verses 31
and 32, he tells us to what extent he had to modify himself in order
to be endured by his fellows whom he loved (see also verse 12 in “Manly
Prudence”). Nietzsche’s great love for his fellows, which he confesses
in the Prologue, and which is at the root of all his teaching, seems
rather to elude the discerning powers of the average philanthropist and
modern man. He cannot see the wood for the trees. A philanthropy that
sacrifices the minority of the present-day for the majority constituting
posterity, completely evades his mental grasp, and Nietzsche’s
philosophy, because it declares Christian values to be a danger to the
future of our kind, is therefore shelved as brutal, cold, and hard (see
Note on Chapter XXXVI.). Nietzsche tried to be all things to all men;
he was sufficiently fond of his fellows for that: in the Return Home he
describes how he ultimately returns to loneliness in order to recover
from the effects of his experiment.
Chapter LIV. The Three Evil Things.
Nietzsche is here completely in his element. Three things hitherto
best cursed and most calumniated on earth, are brought forward to be
weighed. Voluptuousness, thirst of power, and selfishness,—the three
forces in humanity which Christianity has done most to garble and
besmirch,—Nietzsche endeavours to reinstate in their former places of
honour. Voluptuousness, or sensual pleasure, is a dangerous thing to
discuss nowadays. If we mention it with favour we may be regarded,
however unjustly, as the advocate of savages, satyrs, and pure
sensuality. If we condemn it, we either go over to the Puritans or we
join those who are wont to come to table with no edge to their appetites
and who therefore grumble at all good fare. There can be no doubt that
the value of healthy innocent voluptuousness, like the value of health
itself, must have been greatly discounted by all those who, resenting
their inability to partake of this world’s goods, cried like St Paul:
“I would that all men were even as I myself.” Now Nietzsche’s philosophy
might be called an attempt at giving back to healthy and normal men
innocence and a clean conscience in their desires—NOT to applaud the
vulgar sensualists who respond to every stimulus and whose passions are
out of hand; not to tell the mean, selfish individual, whose selfishness
is a pollution (see Aphorism 33, “Twilight of the Idols”), that he is
right, nor to assure the weak, the sick, and the crippled, that the
thirst of power, which they gratify by exploiting the happier and
healthier individuals, is justified;—but to save the clean healthy man
from the values of those around him, who look at everything through the
mud that is in their own bodies,—to give him, and him alone, a clean
conscience in his manhood and the desires of his manhood. “Do I counsel
you to slay your instincts? I counsel to innocence in your instincts.”
In verse 7 of the second paragraph (as in verse I of paragraph 19 in
“The Old and New Tables”) Nietzsche gives us a reason for his occasional
obscurity (see also verses 3 to 7 of “Poets”). As I have already pointed
out, his philosophy is quite esoteric. It can serve no purpose with the
ordinary, mediocre type of man. I, personally, can no longer have any
doubt that Nietzsche’s only object, in that part of his philosophy where
he bids his friends stand “Beyond Good and Evil” with him, was to save
higher men, whose growth and scope might be limited by the too
strict observance of modern values from foundering on the rocks of a
“Compromise” between their own genius and traditional conventions. The
only possible way in which the great man can achieve greatness is
by means of exceptional freedom—the freedom which assists him in
experiencing HIMSELF. Verses 20 to 30 afford an excellent supplement to
Nietzsche’s description of the attitude of the noble type towards the
slaves in Aphorism 260 of the work “Beyond Good and Evil” (see also Note
B.)
Chapter LV. The Spirit of Gravity.
(See Note on Chapter XLVI.) In Part II. of this discourse we meet with
a doctrine not touched upon hitherto, save indirectly;—I refer to the
doctrine of self-love. We should try to understand this perfectly before
proceeding; for it is precisely views of this sort which, after having
been cut out of the original context, are repeated far and wide as
internal evidence proving the general unsoundness of Nietzsche’s
philosophy. Already in the last of the “Thoughts out of Season”
Nietzsche speaks as follows about modern men: “...these modern creatures
wish rather to be hunted down, wounded and torn to shreds, than to
live alone with themselves in solitary calm. Alone with oneself!—this
thought terrifies the modern soul; it is his one anxiety, his one
ghastly fear” (English Edition, page 141). In his feverish scurry to
find entertainment and diversion, whether in a novel, a newspaper, or a
play, the modern man condemns his own age utterly; for he shows that in
his heart of hearts he despises himself. One cannot change a condition
of this sort in a day; to become endurable to oneself an inner
transformation is necessary. Too long have we lost ourselves in our
friends and entertainments to be able to find ourselves so soon at
another’s bidding. “And verily, it is no commandment for to-day and
to-morrow to LEARN to love oneself. Rather is it of all arts the finest,
subtlest, last, and patientest.”
In the last verse Nietzsche challenges us to show that our way is
the right way. In his teaching he does not coerce us, nor does he
overpersuade; he simply says: “I am a law only for mine own, I am not a
law for all. This—is now MY way,—where is yours?”
Chapter LVI. Old and New Tables. Par. 2.
Nietzsche himself declares this to be the most decisive portion of
the whole of “Thus Spake Zarathustra”. It is a sort of epitome of his
leading doctrines. In verse 12 of the second paragraph, we learn how he
himself would fain have abandoned the poetical method of expression had
he not known only too well that the only chance a new doctrine has of
surviving, nowadays, depends upon its being given to the world in some
kind of art-form. Just as prophets, centuries ago, often had to have
recourse to the mask of madness in order to mitigate the hatred of those
who did not and could not see as they did; so, to-day, the struggle for
existence among opinions and values is so great, that an art-form
is practically the only garb in which a new philosophy can dare to
introduce itself to us.
Pars. 3 and 4.
Many of the paragraphs will be found to be merely reminiscent of former
discourses. For instance, par. 3 recalls “Redemption”. The last verse
of par. 4 is important. Freedom which, as I have pointed out before,
Nietzsche considered a dangerous acquisition in inexperienced or
unworthy hands, here receives its death-blow as a general desideratum.
In the first Part we read under “The Way of the Creating One”, that
freedom as an end in itself does not concern Zarathustra at all. He says
there: “Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra? Clearly,
however, shall thine eye answer me: free FOR WHAT?” And in “The
Bedwarfing Virtue”: “Ah that ye understood my word: ‘Do ever what ye
will—but first be such as CAN WILL.’”
Par. 5.
Here we have a description of the kind of altruism Nietzsche exacted
from higher men. It is really a comment upon “The Bestowing Virtue” (see
Note on Chapter XXII.).
Par. 6.
This refers, of course, to the reception pioneers of Nietzsche’s stamp
meet with at the hands of their contemporaries.
Par. 8.
Nietzsche teaches that nothing is stable,—not even values,—not
even the concepts good and evil. He likens life unto a stream. But
foot-bridges and railings span the stream, and they seem to stand
firm. Many will be reminded of good and evil when they look upon these
structures; for thus these same values stand over the stream of life,
and life flows on beneath them and leaves them standing. When, however,
winter comes and the stream gets frozen, many inquire: “Should not
everything—STAND STILL? Fundamentally everything standeth still.” But
soon the spring cometh and with it the thaw-wind. It breaks the ice, and
the ice breaks down the foot-bridges and railings, whereupon everything
is swept away. This state of affairs, according to Nietzsche, has now
been reached. “Oh, my brethren, is not everything AT PRESENT IN FLUX?
Have not all railings and foot-bridges fallen into the water? Who would
still HOLD ON to ‘good’ and ‘evil’?”
Par. 9.
This is complementary to the first three verses of par. 2.
Par. 10.
So far, this is perhaps the most important paragraph. It is a protest
against reading a moral order of things in life. “Life is something
essentially immoral!” Nietzsche tells us in the introduction to the
“Birth of Tragedy”. Even to call life “activity,” or to define it
further as “the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external
relations,” as Spencer has it, Nietzsche characterises as a “democratic
idiosyncracy.” He says to define it in this way, “is to mistake the
true nature and function of life, which is Will to Power.... Life is
ESSENTIALLY appropriation, injury, conquest of the strange and weak,
suppression, severity, obtrusion of its own forms, incorporation and
at least, putting it mildest, exploitation.” Adaptation is merely a
secondary activity, a mere re-activity (see Note on Chapter LVII.).
Pars. 11, 12.
These deal with Nietzsche’s principle of the desirability of rearing a
select race. The biological and historical grounds for his insistence
upon this principle are, of course, manifold. Gobineau in his great
work, “L’Inegalite des Races Humaines”, lays strong emphasis upon the
evils which arise from promiscuous and inter-social marriages. He alone
would suffice to carry Nietzsche’s point against all those who are
opposed to the other conditions, to the conditions which would have
saved Rome, which have maintained the strength of the Jewish race, and
which are strictly maintained by every breeder of animals throughout the
world. Darwin in his remarks relative to the degeneration of CULTIVATED
types of animals through the action of promiscuous breeding, brings
Gobineau support from the realm of biology.
The last two verses of par. 12 were discussed in the Notes on Chapters
XXXVI. and LIII.
Par. 13.
This, like the first part of “The Soothsayer”, is obviously a reference
to the Schopenhauerian Pessimism.
Pars. 14, 15, 16, 17.
These are supplementary to the discourse “Backworld’s-men”.
Par. 18.
We must be careful to separate this paragraph, in sense, from the
previous four paragraphs. Nietzsche is still dealing with Pessimism
here; but it is the pessimism of the hero—the man most susceptible of
all to desperate views of life, owing to the obstacles that are arrayed
against him in a world where men of his kind are very rare and are
continually being sacrificed. It was to save this man that Nietzsche
wrote. Heroism foiled, thwarted, and wrecked, hoping and fighting until
the last, is at length overtaken by despair, and renounces all struggle
for sleep. This is not the natural or constitutional pessimism which
proceeds from an unhealthy body—the dyspeptic’s lack of appetite; it
is rather the desperation of the netted lion that ultimately stops all
movement, because the more it moves the more involved it becomes.
Par. 20.
“All that increases power is good, all that springs from weakness is
bad. The weak and ill-constituted shall perish: first principle of our
charity. And one shall also help them thereto.” Nietzsche partly divined
the kind of reception moral values of this stamp would meet with at
the hands of the effeminate manhood of Europe. Here we see that he had
anticipated the most likely form their criticism would take (see also
the last two verses of par. 17).
Par. 21.
The first ten verses, here, are reminiscent of “War and Warriors” and
of “The Flies in the Market-place.” Verses 11 and 12, however, are
particularly important. There is a strong argument in favour of the
sharp differentiation of castes and of races (and even of sexes; see
Note on Chapter XVIII.) running all through Nietzsche’s writings.
But sharp differentiation also implies antagonism in some form or
other—hence Nietzsche’s fears for modern men. What modern men desire
above all, is peace and the cessation of pain. But neither great races
nor great castes have ever been built up in this way. “Who still wanteth
to rule?” Zarathustra asks in the “Prologue”. “Who still wanteth to
obey? Both are too burdensome.” This is rapidly becoming everybody’s
attitude to-day. The tame moral reading of the face of nature, together
with such democratic interpretations of life as those suggested by
Herbert Spencer, are signs of a physiological condition which is the
reverse of that bounding and irresponsible healthiness in which harder
and more tragic values rule.
Par. 24.
This should be read in conjunction with “Child and Marriage”. In the
fifth verse we shall recognise our old friend “Marriage on the ten-years
system,” which George Meredith suggested some years ago. This, however,