Zarathustra’s Prologue

When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and the lake of his home, and went into the mountains. There he enjoyed his spirit and solitude, and for ten years did not weary of it. But at last his heart…

At thirty Zarathustra goes into the mountains, and ten years later he speaks to the rising sun. He asks it to bless his overflowing cup and begins his down-going.

Zarathustra went down the mountain alone, no one meeting him. When he entered the forest, however, there suddenly stood before him an old man, who had left his holy cot to seek roots. And thus spake the old man to…

The saint recognises Zarathustra as changed and tells him to stay in the forest. He says he now loves God, not men, and Zarathustra answers that he brings gifts. They part laughing.

“Could it be possible! This old saint in the forest hath not yet heard of it, that GOD IS DEAD!”

Alone again, Zarathustra says to his heart that the saint has not heard of God's death.

When Zarathustra arrived at the nearest town which adjoineth the forest, he found many people assembled in the market-place; for it had been announced that a rope-dancer would give a performance. And Zarathustra spake…

In the market-place Zarathustra teaches that man is to be surpassed, as the ape is to man. He describes the hour of great contempt and calls the Superman the lightning and the frenzy. The crowd laughs and asks to see the rope-dancer.

I TEACH YOU THE SUPERMAN. Man is something that is to be surpassed.

Zarathustra opens his speech with the Superman and the demand that man be surpassed.

I conjure you, my brethren, REMAIN TRUE TO THE EARTH, and believe not those who speak unto you of superearthly hopes!

Zarathustra calls those who preach superearthly hopes poisoners.

Zarathustra, however, looked at the people and wondered. Then he spake thus: Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman—a rope over an abyss. A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a dangerous…

Zarathustra says man is a bridge and not a goal. He lists those he loves, all of them willing to perish for the sake of what is to come.

Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman—a rope over an abyss.

Zarathustra describes man's dangerous crossing.

When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he again looked at the people, and was silent. “There they stand,” said he to his heart; “there they laugh: they understand me not; I am not the mouth for these ears. Must one…

Zarathustra decides to appeal to their pride and speaks of the last man. The crowd cheers and asks him to make them last men. He is saddened and says he is not the mouth for these ears.

“What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?”—so asketh the last man and blinketh.

The first description of the last man's blinking indifference.

Then, however, something happened which made every mouth mute and every eye fixed. In the meantime, of course, the rope-dancer had commenced his performance: he had come out at a little door, and was going along the…

A buffoon leaps over the rope-dancer, who falls beside Zarathustra. The dying man fears the devil and hell. Zarathustra says there is neither and promises to bury him.

Meanwhile the evening came on, and the market-place veiled itself in gloom. Then the people dispersed, for even curiosity and terror become fatigued. Zarathustra, however, still sat beside the dead man on the ground,…

Zarathustra reflects that he has caught a corpse and not a man. The buffoon warns him to leave town. He is mocked by grave-diggers, fed by a hermit, and lays the dead man in a hollow tree.

Long slept Zarathustra; and not only the rosy dawn passed over his head, but also the morning. At last, however, his eyes opened, and amazedly he gazed into the forest and the stillness, amazedly he gazed into himself.…

Waking, Zarathustra sees a new truth: he needs living companions who follow themselves. He will no longer be the herd's herdsman and leaves to find fellow-creators.

Companions, the creator seeketh, not corpses—and not herds or believers either.

Zarathustra names those he seeks: fellow-creators who grave new values on new tables.

This had Zarathustra said to his heart when the sun stood at noontide. Then he looked inquiringly aloft,—for he heard above him the sharp call of a bird. And behold! An eagle swept through the air in wide circles, and…

At noon an eagle appears with a serpent coiled round its neck like a friend. Zarathustra calls them his animals, the proudest and the wisest. He asks that his pride go with his wisdom, or with his folly.