Have ye understood this word, O my brethren? Ye are frightened: do your hearts turn giddy? Doth the abyss here yawn for you? Doth the hellhound here yelp at you?
Well! Take heart! ye higher men! Now only travaileth the mountain of the human future. God hath died: now do we desire—the Superman to live.
III
The most careful ask today: “How is man to be maintained?” Zarathustra however asketh, as the first and only one: “How is man to be surpassed?”
The Superman, I have at heart; that is the first and only thing to me—and not man: not the neighbour, not the poorest, not the sorriest, not the best.—
O my brethren, what I can love in man is that he is an over-going and a down-going. And also in you there is much that maketh me love and hope.
In that ye have despised, ye higher men, that maketh me hope. For the great despisers are the great reverers.
In that ye have despaired, there is much to honour. For ye have not learned to submit yourselves, ye have not learned petty policy.
For today have the petty people become master: they all preach submission and humility and policy and diligence and consideration and the long et cetera of petty virtues.
Whatever is of the effeminate type, whatever originateth from the servile type, and especially the populace-mishmash:—that wisheth now to be master of all human destiny—O disgust! Disgust! Disgust!
That asketh and asketh and never tireth: “How is man to maintain himself best, longest, most pleasantly?” Thereby—are they the masters of today.
These masters of today—surpass them, O my brethren—these petty people: they are the Superman’s greatest danger!
Surpass, ye higher men, the petty virtues, the petty policy, the sand-grain considerateness, the anthill trumpery, the pitiable comfortableness, the “happiness of the greatest number”—!
And rather despair than submit yourselves. And verily, I love you, because ye know not today how to live, ye higher men! For thus do ye live—best!
IV
Have ye courage, O my brethren? Are ye stouthearted? Not the courage before witnesses, but anchorite and eagle courage, which not even a God any longer beholdeth?
Cold souls, mules, the blind and the drunken, I do not call stouthearted. He hath heart who knoweth fear, but vanquisheth it; who seeth the abyss, but with pride.
He who seeth the abyss, but with eagle’s eyes—he who with eagle’s talons graspeth the abyss: he hath courage.⸺
V
“Man is evil”—so said to me for consolation, all the wisest ones. Ah, if only it be still true today! For the evil is man’s best force.
“Man must become better and eviler”—so do I teach. The evilest is necessary for the Superman’s best.
It may have been well for the preacher of the petty people to suffer and be burdened by men’s sin. I, however, rejoice in great sin as my great consolation.—
Such things, however, are not said for long ears. Every word, also, is not suited for every mouth. These are fine faraway things: at them sheep’s claws shall not grasp!
VI
Ye higher men, think ye that I am here to put right what ye have put wrong?
Or that I wished henceforth to make snugger couches for you sufferers? Or show you restless, miswandering, misclimbing ones, new and easier footpaths?
Nay! Nay! Three times Nay! Always more, always better ones of your type shall succumb—for ye shall always have it worse and harder. Thus only—
—Thus only groweth man aloft to the height where the lightning striketh and shattereth him: high enough for the lightning!
Towards the few, the long, the remote go forth my soul and my seeking: of what account to me are your many little, short miseries!
Ye do not yet suffer enough for me! For ye suffer from yourselves, ye have not yet suffered from man. Ye would lie if ye spake otherwise! None of you suffereth from what I have suffered.⸺
VII
It is not enough for me that the lightning no longer doeth harm. I do not wish to conduct it away: it shall learn—to work for me.—
My wisdom hath accumulated long like a cloud, it becometh stiller and darker. So doeth all wisdom which shall one day bear lightnings.—
Unto these men of today will I not be light, nor be called light. Them—will I blind: lightning of my wisdom! put out their eyes!
VIII
Do not will anything beyond your power: there is a bad falseness in those who will beyond their power.
Especially when they will great things! For they awaken distrust in great things, these subtle false-coiners and stage-players:—
—Until at last they are false towards themselves, squint-eyed, whited cankers, glossed over with strong words, parade virtues and brilliant false deeds.
Take good care there, ye higher men! For nothing is more precious to me, and rarer, than honesty.
Is this today not that of the populace? The populace however knoweth not what is great and what is small, what is straight and what is honest: it is innocently crooked, it ever lieth.
IX
Have a good distrust today ye, higher men, ye enheartened ones! Ye openhearted ones! And keep your reasons secret! For this today is that of the populace.
What the populace once learned to believe without reasons, who could—refute it to them by means of reasons?
And on the marketplace one convinceth with gestures. But reasons make the populace distrustful.
And when truth hath once triumphed there, then ask yourselves with good distrust: “What strong error hath fought for it?”
Be on your guard also against the learned! They hate you, because they are unproductive! They have cold, withered eyes before which every bird is unplumed.
Such persons vaunt about not lying: but inability to lie is still far from being love to truth. Be on your guard!
Freedom from fever is still far from being knowledge! Refrigerated spirits I do not believe in. He who cannot lie, doth not know what truth is.
X
If ye would go up high, then use your
