The eagle and the serpent

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.

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.

With these words Zarathustra started up, not however like a person in anguish seeking relief, but rather like a seer and a singer whom the spirit inspireth. With amazement did his eagle and serpent gaze upon him: for a…

He rises like an inspired seer, not like one in anguish. His astonished animals see a coming bliss on his face, and he says he is wounded by his happiness and can speak and bestow again.

One morning, not long after his return to his cave, Zarathustra sprang up from his couch like a madman, crying with a frightful voice, and acting as if some one still lay on the couch who did not wish to rise.…

Zarathustra leaps from his couch and shouts at the thought as at a sleeper who will not rise. He hails it, then recoils in disgust.

Hardly, however, had Zarathustra spoken these words, when he fell down as one dead, and remained long as one dead. When however he again came to himself, then was he pale and trembling, and remained lying; and for long…

Zarathustra falls as if dead. The eagle brings food and the animals watch over him. When he smells an apple, they speak and urge him out into the world.

—O mine animals, answered Zarathustra, talk on thus and let me listen! It refresheth me so to hear your talk: where there is talk, there is the world as a garden unto me. How charming it is that there are words and…

Zarathustra delights in hearing his animals talk. He calls words and tones rainbow bridges between souls and speaking a beautiful folly.

—“O Zarathustra,” said then his animals, “to those who think like us, things all dance themselves: they come and hold out the hand and laugh and flee—and return. Everything goeth, everything returneth; eternally rolleth…

The animals sing that everything goes and returns, dies and blossoms, breaks and is rebuilt. The middle is everywhere and the path of eternity is crooked.

—O ye wags and barrel-organs! answered Zarathustra, and smiled once more, how well do ye know what had to be fulfilled in seven days:— —And how that monster crept into my throat and choked me! But I bit off its head and…

Zarathustra says he bit off the head of the monster that choked him. He reproaches the animals for watching his pain and says man is the cruellest animal, in tragedy, in hell and in 'pity'. His cry was not that man is bad, but that his baddest and his best are so small.

“Do not speak further, thou convalescent!”—so answered his animals, “but go out where the world waiteth for thee like a garden. Go out unto the roses, the bees, and the flocks of doves! Especially, however, unto the…

The animals send him out to the garden to learn singing from the birds. Zarathustra says his consolation was to sing once more, and they tell him to prepare a new lyre.

For thine animals know it well, O Zarathustra, who thou art and must become: behold, THOU ART THE TEACHER OF THE ETERNAL RETURN,—that is now THY fate!

The animals say this is his fate and his greatest danger. They set out the doctrine: all things and we ourselves return, in a great year that turns like a sand-glass.

And if thou wouldst now die, O Zarathustra, behold, we know also how thou wouldst then speak to thyself:—but thine animals beseech thee not to die yet! Thou wouldst speak, and without trembling, buoyant rather with…

The animals say how Zarathustra would speak if he died: souls are mortal, but the plexus of causes returns and creates him again. He comes again to the same life to teach recurrence and announce the Superman.

When the animals had spoken these words they were silent and waited, so that Zarathustra might say something to them: but Zarathustra did not hear that they were silent. On the contrary, he lay quietly with closed eyes…

The animals fall silent and wait. Zarathustra lies with closed eyes, not asleep, and they withdraw respectfully.

—And again passed moons and years over Zarathustra’s soul, and he heeded it not; his hair, however, became white. One day when he sat on a stone in front of his cave, and gazed calmly into the distance—one there gazeth…

The animals ask whether he looks out for happiness. He says he strives for his work, and that his happiness is heavy like pitch. He then takes it back: he is ripening like a fruit, with honey in his veins. He decides to climb a high mountain and make a honey sacrifice.

—And here there arose a long silence between them: Zarathustra, however, became profoundly absorbed in thought, so that he shut his eyes. But afterwards coming back to the situation, he grasped the hand of the magician,…

Zarathustra, after a long silence, points the magician to his cave and his animals. He says he has seen no great man, only inflated frogs, and goes on laughing, comforted.

Thus spake the ugliest man. Zarathustra however got up, and prepared to go on: for he felt frozen to the very bowels. “Thou nondescript,” said he, “thou warnedst me against thy path. As thanks for it I praise mine to…

Frozen to the bowels, Zarathustra thanks the man by praising his own path. He sends him to the cave and to the proudest and wisest animals, then walks on thoughtful and slow.

—“Well!” said Zarathustra, “thou shouldst also see MINE animals, mine eagle and my serpent,—their like do not at present exist on earth. Behold, thither leadeth the way to my cave: be to-night its guest. And talk to…

Zarathustra invites the beggar to his cave to talk to the eagle and serpent about animal happiness, since a cry of distress calls him away. When the beggar calls him better than a cow, Zarathustra mockingly drives him off with his stick.

It was late in the afternoon only when Zarathustra, after long useless searching and strolling about, again came home to his cave. When, however, he stood over against it, not more than twenty paces therefrom, the thing…

Returning home, Zarathustra hears the cry of distress again, this time from his own cave. He finds all the men he met that day sitting there, and greets them with courteous curiosity.

For at this point the soothsayer interrupted the greeting of Zarathustra and his guests: he pressed forward as one who had no time to lose, seized Zarathustra’s hand and exclaimed: “But Zarathustra! One thing is more…

The soothsayer interrupts the greeting, reminds Zarathustra he was invited to table, and complains of hunger, thirst and the lack of wine. Zarathustra's animals flee in terror at his appetite.

When Zarathustra spake these sayings, he stood nigh to the entrance of his cave; with the last words, however, he slipped away from his guests, and fled for a little while into the open air. “O pure odours around me,”…

Zarathustra leaves the cave, calls his eagle and serpent, and says he loves them. He remarks that the higher men do not smell well. The three stand silent and breathe the good air.

“ZARATHUSTRA!” cried all of them there assembled, as if with one voice, and burst out at the same time into a great laughter; there arose, however, from them as it were a heavy cloud. Even the magician laughed, and said…

The company cries out 'Zarathustra!' and laughs, and the magician says his evil spirit is gone. He teases that Zarathustra loves his enemies but takes revenge on his friends. Zarathustra goes round shaking hands, then longs for the good air and his animals and wishes to steal out.

After the song of the wanderer and shadow, the cave became all at once full of noise and laughter: and since the assembled guests all spake simultaneously, and even the ass, encouraged thereby, no longer remained…

Zarathustra slips out of the noisy cave and speaks to his animals. He is mildly scornful of the guests but pleased, and takes their growing thankfulness as the best sign.

When, however, this took place with the ugliest man, Zarathustra stood there like one drunken: his glance dulled, his tongue faltered and his feet staggered. And who could divine what thoughts then passed through…

Zarathustra stands as if drunken, then hears something and three times bids all be still and listen. A clock-bell sounds and he says: let us wander into the night.

In the morning, however, after this night, Zarathustra jumped up from his couch, and, having girded his loins, he came out of his cave glowing and strong, like a morning sun coming out of gloomy mountains. “Thou great…

Zarathustra rises glowing like a morning sun and greets the star as he once did. He says the higher men still sleep and are not his companions, and he praises his eagle as a proper animal while lacking proper men.