查拉图斯特拉如是说 英文版 Thus Spake Zarathustra
尼采 Friedrich Nietzsche
LXXI. The Greeting.
It was late in the afternoon only when Zarathustra, after long uselesssearching and strolling about, again came home to his cave. When, however,he stood over against it, not more than twenty paces therefrom, the thinghappened which he now least of all expected: he heard anew the great CRYOF DISTRESS. And extraordinary! this time the cry came out of his owncave. It was a long, manifold, peculiar cry, and Zarathustra plainlydistinguished that it was composed of many voices: although heard at adistance it might sound like the cry out of a single mouth.
Thereupon Zarathustra rushed forward to his cave, and behold! what aspectacle awaited him after that concert! For there did they all sittogether whom he had passed during the day: the king on the right and theking on the left, the old magician, the pope, the voluntary beggar, theshadow, the intellectually conscientious one, the sorrowful soothsayer, andthe ass; the ugliest man, however, had set a crown on his head, and had putround him two purple girdles,--for he liked, like all ugly ones, todisguise himself and play the handsome person. In the midst, however, ofthat sorrowful company stood Zarathustra's eagle, ruffled and disquieted,for it had been called upon to answer too much for which its pride had notany answer; the wise serpent however hung round its neck.
All this did Zarathustra behold with great astonishment; then however hescrutinised each individual guest with courteous curiosity, read theirsouls and wondered anew. In the meantime the assembled ones had risen fromtheir seats, and waited with reverence for Zarathustra to speak.Zarathustra however spake thus:
"Ye despairing ones! Ye strange ones! So it was YOUR cry of distress thatI heard? And now do I know also where he is to be sought, whom I havesought for in vain to-day: THE HIGHER MAN--:
--In mine own cave sitteth he, the higher man! But why do I wonder! Havenot I myself allured him to me by honey-offerings and artful lure-calls ofmy happiness?
But it seemeth to me that ye are badly adapted for company: ye make oneanother's hearts fretful, ye that cry for help, when ye sit here together?There is one that must first come,
--One who will make you laugh once more, a good jovial buffoon, a dancer, awind, a wild romp, some old fool:--what think ye?
Forgive me, however, ye despairing ones, for speaking such trivial wordsbefore you, unworthy, verily, of such guests! But ye do not divine WHATmaketh my heart wanton:--
--Ye yourselves do it, and your aspect, forgive it me! For every onebecometh courageous who beholdeth a despairing one. To encourage adespairing one--every one thinketh himself strong enough to do so.
To myself have ye given this power,--a good gift, mine honourable guests!An excellent guest's-present! Well, do not then upbraid when I also offeryou something of mine.
This is mine empire and my dominion: that which is mine, however, shallthis evening and tonight be yours. Mine animals shall serve you: let mycave be your resting-place!
At house and home with me shall no one despair: in my purlieus do Iprotect every one from his wild beasts. And that is the first thing whichI offer you: security!
The second thing, however, is my little finger. And when ye have THAT,then take the whole hand also, yea, and the heart with it! Welcome here,welcome to you, my guests!"
Thus spake Zarathustra, and laughed with love and mischief. After thisgreeting his guests bowed once more and were reverentially silent; the kingon the right, however, answered him in their name.
"O Zarathustra, by the way in which thou hast given us thy hand and thygreeting, we recognise thee as Zarathustra. Thou hast humbled thyselfbefore us; almost hast thou hurt our reverence--:
--Who however could have humbled himself as thou hast done, with suchpride? THAT uplifteth us ourselves; a refreshment is it, to our eyes andhearts.
To behold this, merely, gladly would we ascend higher mountains than this.For as eager beholders have we come; we wanted to see what brighteneth dimeyes.
And lo! now is it all over with our cries of distress. Now are our mindsand hearts open and enraptured. Little is lacking for our spirits tobecome wanton.
There is nothing, O Zarathustra, that groweth more pleasingly on earth thana lofty, strong will: it is the finest growth. An entire landscaperefresheth itself at one such tree.
my victories. And many of you would tumbleover.
To the pine do I compare him, O Zarathustra, which groweth up like thee--tall, silent, hardy, solitary, of the best, supplest wood, stately,--
--In the end, however, grasping out for ITS dominion with strong, greenbranches, asking weighty questions of the wind, the storm, and whatever isat home on high places;
--Answering more weightily, a commander, a victor! Oh! who should notascend high mountains to behold such growths?
At thy tree, O Zarathustra, the gloomy and ill-constituted also refreshthemselves; at thy look even the wavering become steady and heal theirhearts.
And verily, towards thy mountain and thy tree do many eyes turn to-day; agreat longing hath arisen, and many have learned to ask: 'Who isZarathustra?'
And those into whose ears thou hast at any time dripped thy song and thyhoney: all the hidden ones, the lone-dwellers and the twain-dwellers, havesimultaneously said to their hearts:
'Doth Zarathustra still live? It is no longer worth while to live,everything is indifferent, everything is useless: or else--we must livewith Zarathustra!'
'Why doth he not come who hath so long announced himself?' thus do manypeople ask; 'hath solitude swallowed him up? Or should we perhaps go tohim?'
Now doth it come to pass that solitude itself becometh fragile and breakethopen, like a grave that breaketh open and can no longer hold its dead.Everywhere one seeth resurrected ones.
Now do the waves rise and rise around thy mountain, O Zarathustra. Andhowever high be thy height, many of them must rise up to thee: thy boatshall not rest much longer on dry ground.
And that we despairing ones have now come into thy cave, and already nolonger despair:--it is but a prognostic and a presage that better ones areon the way to thee,--
--For they themselves are on the way to thee, the last remnant of God amongmen--that is to say, all the men of great longing, of great loathing, ofgreat satiety,
--All who do not want to live unless they learn again to HOPE--unless theylearn from thee, O Zarathustra, the GREAT hope!"
Thus spake the king on the right, and seized the hand of Zarathustra inorder to kiss it; but Zarathustra checked his veneration, and stepped backfrightened, fleeing as it were, silently and suddenly into the fardistance. After a little while, however, he was again at home with hisguests, looked at them with clear scrutinising eyes, and said:
"My guests, ye higher men, I will speak plain language and plainly withyou. It is not for YOU that I have waited here in these mountains."
("'Plain language and plainly?' Good God!" said here the king on the leftto himself; "one seeth he doth not know the good Occidentals, this sage outof the Orient!
But he meaneth 'blunt language and bluntly'--well! That is not the worsttaste in these days!")
"Ye may, verily, all of you be higher men," continued Zarathustra; "but forme--ye are neither high enough, nor strong enough.
For me, that is to say, for the inexorable which is now silent in me, butwill not always be silent. And if ye appertain to me, still it is not asmy right arm.
For he who himself standeth, like you, on sickly and tender legs, wishethabove all to be TREATED INDULGENTLY, whether he be conscious of it or hideit from himself.
My arms and my legs, however, I do not treat indulgently, I DO NOT TREAT MYWARRIORS INDULGENTLY: how then could ye be fit for MY warfare?
With you I should spoil all my victories. And many of you would tumbleover if ye but heard the loud beating of my drums.
Moreover, ye are not sufficiently beautiful and well-born for me. Irequire pure, smooth mirrors for my doctrines; on your surface even mineown likeness is distorted.
rise and rise around.
On your shoulders presseth many a burden, many a recollection; many amischievous dwarf squatteth in your corners. There is concealed populacealso in you.
And though ye be high and of a higher type, much in you is crooked andmisshapen. There is no smith in the world that could hammer you right andstraight for me.
Ye are only bridges: may higher ones pass over upon you! Ye signifysteps: so do not upbraid him who ascendeth beyond you into HIS height!
Out of your seed there may one day arise for me a genuine son and perfectheir: but that time is distant. Ye yourselves are not those unto whom myheritage and name belong.
Not for you do I wait here in these mountains; not with you may I descendfor the last time. Ye have come unto me only as a presage that higher onesare on the way to me,--
--NOT the men of great longing, of great loathing, of great satiety, andthat which ye call the remnant of God;
--Nay! Nay! Three times Nay! For OTHERS do I wait here in thesemountains, and will not lift my foot from thence without them;
--For higher ones, stronger ones, triumphanter ones, merrier ones, for suchas are built squarely in body and soul: LAUGHING LIONS must come!
O my guests, ye strange ones--have ye yet heard nothing of my children?And that they are on the way to me?
Do speak unto me of my gardens, of my Happy Isles, of my new beautifulrace--why do ye not speak unto me thereof?
This guests'-present do I solicit of your love, that ye speak unto me of mychildren. For them am I rich, for them I became poor: what have I notsurrendered,
--What would I not surrender that I might have one thing: THESE children,THIS living plantation, THESE life-trees of my will and of my highesthope!"