--- title: "Thus Spake Zarathustra" author: "Friedrich Nietzsche" translator: "Thomas Common" languages: [en] shelf: "Philosophy" section: 32 of 95 url: https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/32/ cite: "Friedrich Nietzsche, tr. Thomas Common, Thus Spake Zarathustra, section 32. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/32/" --- # Thus Spake Zarathustra *Friedrich Nietzsche, tr. Thomas Common* A prophet comes down from his mountain to teach the overman, in sermons and songs. ## 32. XXVIII. The Rabble Source: https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/32/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/nietzsche-zarathustra/32/#p-N [¶0] Life is a well of delight; but where the rabble also drink, there all fountains are poisoned. [¶1] To everything cleanly am I well disposed; but I hate to see the grinning mouths and the thirst of the unclean. [¶2] They cast their eye down into the fountain: and now glanceth up to me their odious smile out of the fountain. [¶3] The holy water have they poisoned with their lustfulness; and when they called their filthy dreams delight, then poisoned they also the words. [¶4] Indignant becometh the flame when they put their damp hearts to the fire; the spirit itself bubbleth and smoketh when the rabble approach the fire. [¶5] Mawkish and over-mellow becometh the fruit in their hands: unsteady, and withered at the top, doth their look make the fruit-tree. [¶6] And many a one who hath turned away from life, hath only turned away from the rabble: he hated to share with them fountain, flame, and fruit. [¶7] And many a one who hath gone into the wilderness and suffered thirst with beasts of prey, disliked only to sit at the cistern with filthy camel-drivers. [¶8] And many a one who hath come along as a destroyer, and as a hailstorm to all cornfields, wanted merely to put his foot into the jaws of the rabble, and thus stop their throat. [¶9] And it is not the mouthful which hath most choked me, to know that life itself requireth enmity and death and torture-crosses:— [¶10] But I asked once, and suffocated almost with my question: What? is the rabble also NECESSARY for life? [¶11] Are poisoned fountains necessary, and stinking fires, and filthy dreams, and maggots in the bread of life? [¶12] Not my hatred, but my loathing, gnawed hungrily at my life! Ah, ofttimes became I weary of spirit, when I found even the rabble spiritual! [¶13] And on the rulers turned I my back, when I saw what they now call ruling: to traffic and bargain for power—with the rabble! [¶14] Amongst peoples of a strange language did I dwell, with stopped ears: so that the language of their trafficking might remain strange unto me, and their bargaining for power. [¶15] And holding my nose, I went morosely through all yesterdays and to-days: verily, badly smell all yesterdays and to-days of the scribbling rabble! [¶16] Like a cripple become deaf, and blind, and dumb—thus have I lived long; that I might not live with the power-rabble, the scribe-rabble, and the pleasure-rabble. [¶17] Toilsomely did my spirit mount stairs, and cautiously; alms of delight were its refreshment; on the staff did life creep along with the blind one. [¶18] What hath happened unto me? How have I freed myself from loathing? Who hath rejuvenated mine eye? How have I flown to the height where no rabble any longer sit at the wells? [¶19] Did my loathing itself create for me wings and fountain-divining powers? Verily, to the loftiest height had I to fly, to find again the well of delight! [¶20] Oh, I have found it, my brethren! Here on the loftiest height bubbleth up for me the well of delight! And there is a life at whose waters none of the rabble drink with me! [¶21] Almost too violently dost thou flow for me, thou fountain of delight! And often emptiest thou the goblet again, in wanting to fill it! [¶22] And yet must I learn to approach thee more modestly: far too violently doth my heart still flow towards thee:— [¶23] My heart on which my summer burneth, my short, hot, melancholy, over-happy summer: how my summer heart longeth for thy coolness! [¶24] Past, the lingering distress of my spring! Past, the wickedness of my snowflakes in June! Summer have I become entirely, and summer-noontide! [¶25] A summer on the loftiest height, with cold fountains and blissful stillness: oh, come, my friends, that the stillness may become more blissful! [¶26] For this is OUR height and our home: too high and steep do we here dwell for all uncleanly ones and their thirst. [¶27] Cast but your pure eyes into the well of my delight, my friends! How could it become turbid thereby! It shall laugh back to you with ITS purity. [¶28] On the tree of the future build we our nest; eagles shall bring us lone ones food in their beaks! [¶29] Verily, no food of which the impure could be fellow-partakers! Fire, would they think they devoured, and burn their mouths! [¶30] Verily, no abodes do we here keep ready for the impure! An ice-cave to their bodies would our happiness be, and to their spirits! [¶31] And as strong winds will we live above them, neighbours to the eagles, neighbours to the snow, neighbours to the sun: thus live the strong winds. [¶32] And like a wind will I one day blow amongst them, and with my spirit, take the breath from their spirit: thus willeth my future. [¶33] Verily, a strong wind is Zarathustra to all low places; and this counsel counselleth he to his enemies, and to whatever spitteth and speweth: “Take care not to spit AGAINST the wind!”— [¶34] Thus spake Zarathustra.