Preface

As it is my intention within a very short time to confront my fellow-men with the very greatest demand that has ever yet been made upon them, it seems to me above all necessary to declare here who and what I am. As a matter of fact, this ought to be pretty well known already, for I have not "held my tongue" about myself. But the disparity which obtains between the greatness of my task and the smallness of my contemporaries, is revealed by the fact that people have neither heard me nor yet seen me. I live on my own self-made credit, and it is probably only a prejudice to suppose that I am alive at all. I do but require to speak to any one of the scholars who come to the Ober-Engadine in the summer in order to convince myself that I am not alive.... Under these circumstances, it is a duty—and one against which my customary reserve, and to a still greater degree the pride of my instincts, rebel—to say: Listen! for I am such and such a person. For Heaven's sake do not confound me with any one else!

I intend to confront my fellow human beings very soon with the greatest demand ever made on them. So it seems above all necessary to say here who and what I am. In fact, this should already be fairly well known, since I have not "held my tongue" about myself. But people have neither heard nor seen me. This shows the gap between the greatness of my task and the smallness of my contemporaries. I live on credit I have given myself, and the belief that I am alive at all is probably just a prejudice. I need only speak to any one of the scholars who come to the Ober-Engadine in summer to convince myself that I am not alive.... Under these circumstances, I have a duty to say who I am. My usual reserve rebels against this duty, and the pride of my instincts rebels even more. Yet I must say: Listen! I am this kind of person. For Heaven's sake, do not confuse me with anyone else!

I am, for instance, in no wise a bogey man, or moral monster. On the contrary, I am the very opposite in nature to the kind of man that has been honoured hitherto as virtuous. Between ourselves, it seems to me that this is precisely a matter on which I may feel proud. I am a disciple of the philosopher Dionysus, and I would prefer to be even a satyr than a saint. But just read this book! Maybe I have here succeeded in expressing this contrast in a cheerful and at the same time sympathetic manner—maybe this is the only purpose of the present work.

For example, I am not a bogeyman or a moral monster. On the contrary, my nature is the very opposite of the kind of person who has been honored as virtuous until now. Between ourselves, I think this is something I can be proud of. I am a disciple of the philosopher Dionysus, and I would rather be a satyr than a saint. But just read this book! Maybe I have succeeded in expressing this contrast in a cheerful yet sympathetic way. Maybe that is the only purpose of this work.

The very last thing I should promise to accomplish would be to "improve" mankind. I do not set up any new idols; may old idols only learn what it costs to have legs of clay. To overthrow idols (idols is the name I give to all ideals) is much more like my business. In proportion as an ideal world has been falsely assumed, reality has been robbed of its value, its meaning, and its truthfulness.... The "true world" and the "apparent world"—in plain English, the fictitious world and reality.... Hitherto the lie of the ideal has been the curse of reality; by means of it the very source of mankind's instincts has become mendacious and false; so much so that those values have come to be worshipped which are the exact opposite of the ones which would ensure man's prosperity, his future, and his great right to a future.

The last thing I would promise to do is "improve" humanity. I do not set up any new idols. May the old idols learn what it costs to have legs of clay. My business is much more about overthrowing idols (I call all ideals idols). To the extent that an ideal world has been falsely assumed to exist, reality has been robbed of its value, meaning, and truthfulness.... The "true world" and the "apparent world": in plain English, the fictional world and reality.... Until now, the lie of the ideal has been the curse of reality. Because of this lie, the very source of human instincts has become deceitful and false. As a result, people have come to worship values that are the exact opposite of those that would secure humanity's prosperity, its future, and its great right to a future.

He who knows how to breathe in the air of my writings is conscious that it is the air of the heights, that it is bracing. A man must be built for it, otherwise the chances are that it will chill him. The ice is near, the loneliness is terrible—but how serenely everything lies in the sunshine! how freely one can breathe! how much, one feels, lies beneath one! Philosophy, as I have understood it hitherto, is a voluntary retirement into regions of ice and mountain-peaks—the seeking—out of everything strange and questionable in existence, everything upon which, hitherto, morality has set its ban. Through long experience, derived from such wanderings in forbidden country, I acquired an opinion very different from that which may seem generally desirable, of the causes which hitherto have led to men's moralising and idealising. The secret history of philosophers, the psychology of their great names, was revealed to me. How much truth can a certain mind endure; how much truth can it dare?—these questions became for me ever more and more the actual test of values. Error (the belief in the ideal) is not blindness; error is cowardice.... Every conquest, every step forward in knowledge, is the outcome of courage, of hardness towards one's self, of cleanliness towards one's self. I do not refute ideals; all I do is to draw on my gloves in their presence.... Nitimur in vetitum; with this device my philosophy will one day be victorious; for that which has hitherto been most stringently forbidden is, without exception, Truth.

Anyone who knows how to breathe the air of my writings knows it is the bracing air of the heights. You must be built for it, or it will probably chill you. The ice is near, the loneliness is terrible, but how serenely everything lies in the sunshine! How freely one can breathe! How much, one feels, lies beneath one! As I have understood it so far, philosophy is a voluntary retreat into regions of ice and mountain peaks. It is the search for everything strange and questionable in existence, everything morality has so far forbidden. My long experience of wandering in this forbidden country led me to a view that may seem far from desirable. It concerns the reasons people have so far moralized and idealized. The secret history of philosophers, the psychology behind their great names, was revealed to me. How much truth can a mind endure? How much truth can it dare to face? These questions became, more and more, my real test of value. Error (belief in the ideal) is not blindness. Error is cowardice.... Every conquest, every step forward in knowledge, comes from courage, from being hard on oneself, from being clean with oneself. I do not refute ideals. I merely put on my gloves in their presence.... Nitimur in vetitum (we strive for what is forbidden). With this motto my philosophy will one day be victorious. For what has so far been most strictly forbidden is, without exception, Truth.

In my lifework, my Zarathustra holds a place apart. With it, I gave my fellow-men the greatest gift that has ever been bestowed upon them. This book, the voice of which speaks out across the ages, is not only the loftiest book on earth, literally the book of mountain air,—the whole phenomenon, mankind, lies at an incalculable distance beneath it,—but it is also the deepest book, born of the inmost abundance of truth; an inexhaustible well, into which no pitcher can be lowered without coming up again laden with gold and with goodness. Here it is not a "prophet" who speaks, one of those gruesome hybrids of sickness and Will to Power, whom men call founders of religions. If a man would not do a sad wrong to his wisdom, he must, above all give proper heed to the tones—the halcyonic tones—that fall from the lips of Zarathustra:—

In my life’s work, my Zarathustra stands apart. With it, I gave my fellow human beings the greatest gift ever bestowed upon them. This book speaks across the ages. It is not only the loftiest book on earth, literally a book of mountain air. The whole phenomenon of humanity lies an incalculable distance beneath it. It is also the deepest book, born from the innermost abundance of truth. It is an inexhaustible well. No pitcher can be lowered into it without coming up laden with gold and goodness. Here, it is not a "prophet" who speaks. Prophets are those gruesome hybrids of sickness and Will to Power whom people call founders of religions. To avoid doing a grave injustice to Zarathustra’s wisdom, one must above all pay close attention to his tones, the serene tones that fall from his lips:

"The most silent words are harbingers of the storm; thoughts that come on dove's feet lead the world.

"The quietest words herald the storm. Thoughts that come on dove's feet lead the world.

"The figs fall from the trees; they are good and sweet, and, when they fall, their red skins are rent.

"The figs fall from the trees. They are good and sweet, and their red skins split when they fall.

"A north wind am I unto ripe figs.

"I am a north wind to ripe figs.

"Thus, like figs, do these precepts drop down to you, my friends; now drink their juice and their sweet pulp.

"These teachings fall to you like figs, my friends. Now drink their juice and sweet pulp.

"It is autumn all around, and clear sky, and afternoon."

"Autumn is all around, the sky is clear, and it is afternoon."

No fanatic speaks to you here; this is not a "sermon"; no faith is demanded in these pages. From out an infinite treasure of light and well of joy, drop by drop, my words fall out—a slow and gentle gait is the cadence of these discourses. Such things can reach only the most elect; it is a rare privilege to be a listener here; not every one who likes can have ears to hear Zarathustra. Is not Zarathustra, because of these things, a seducer? ... But what, indeed, does he himself say, when for the first time he goes back to his solitude? Just the reverse of that which any "Sage," "Saint," "Saviour of the world," and other decadent would say.... Not only his words, but he himself is other than they.

No fanatic is speaking to you here. This is not a "sermon". These pages demand no faith. My words fall drop by drop from an infinite treasure of light and a well of joy. These discourses move at a slow and gentle pace. Only the most select can receive such things. It is a rare privilege to listen here. Not everyone who wants to can have ears to hear Zarathustra. Do these things not make Zarathustra a seducer? ... But what does he himself say when he first returns to his solitude? Exactly the opposite of what any "Sage," "Saint," "Saviour of the world," or other decadent would say.... Not only his words, but Zarathustra himself is different from them.

"Alone do I now go, my disciples! Get ye also hence, and alone! Thus would I have it.

"Now I go alone, my disciples! You must leave too, and go alone! That is what I want.

"Verily, I beseech you: take your leave of me and arm yourselves against Zarathustra! And better still, be ashamed of him! Maybe he hath deceived you.

"Truly, I beg you: leave me and defend yourselves against Zarathustra! Better still, be ashamed of him! Maybe he has deceived you.

"The knight of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies, but also to hate his friends.

"The knight of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies, but also to hate his friends.

"The man who remaineth a pupil requiteth his teacher but ill. And why would ye not pluck at my wreath?

"The man who remains a pupil repays his teacher poorly. And why would you not pluck at my wreath?

"Ye honour me; but what if your reverence should one day break down? Take heed, lest a statue crush you.

"You honor me, but what if your reverence one day collapses? Be careful, or a statue may crush you.

"Ye say ye believe in Zarathustra? But of; what account is Zarathustra? Ye are my believers: but of what account are all believers?

"You say you believe in Zarathustra? But what does Zarathustra matter? You are my believers, but what do all believers matter?

"Ye had not yet sought yourselves when ye found me. Thus do all believers; therefore is all believing worth so little.

"You had not yet sought yourselves when you found me. All believers do this, which is why all belief is worth so little.

"Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when ye have all denied me will I come back unto you."

"Now I ask you to lose me and find yourselves. Only when you have all denied me will I return to you."

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.