fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and flippant; an unstable
will; fluttering wings; a broken backbone.
This seeking for MY home: O Zarathustra, dost thou know that this
seeking hath been MY home-sickening; it eateth me up.
'WHERE is--MY home?' For it do I ask and seek, and have sought, but
have not found it. O eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's countenance lengthened at his
words. "Thou art my shadow!" said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and wanderer! Thou hast had a
bad day: see that a still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last even a prisoner blessed.
Didst thou ever see how captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly,
they enjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture thee, a hard, rigorous
delusion! For now everything that is narrow and fixed seduceth and
Thou hast lost thy goal. Alas, how wilt thou forego and forget that
loss? Thereby--hast thou also lost thy way!
Thou poor rover and rambler, thou tired butterfly! wilt thou have a rest
and a home this evening? Then go up to my cave!
Thither leadeth the way to my cave. And now will I run quickly away from
thee again. Already lieth as it were a shadow upon me.
I will run alone, so that it may again become bright around me.
Therefore must I still be a long time merrily upon my legs. In the
evening, however, there will be--dancing with me!"--
Thus spake Zarathustra.
--And Zarathustra ran and ran, but he found no one else, and was alone
and ever found himself again; he enjoyed and quaffed his solitude, and
thought of good things--for hours. About the hour of noontide, however,
when the sun stood exactly over Zarathustra's head, he passed an old,
bent and gnarled tree, which was encircled round by the ardent love of
a vine, and hidden from itself; from this there hung yellow grapes in
abundance, confronting the wanderer. Then he felt inclined to quench a
little thirst, and to break off for himself a cluster of grapes. When,
however, he had already his arm out-stretched for that purpose, he felt
still more inclined for something else--namely, to lie down beside the
tree at the hour of perfect noontide and sleep.
This Zarathustra did; and no sooner had he laid himself on the ground in
the stillness and secrecy of the variegated grass, than he had forgotten
his little thirst, and fell asleep.
Nietzsche wrote the rough draft of "The Case of Wagner" in Turin, during the month of May 1888; he completed it in Sils Maria towards the end of June of the same year, and it was published in the following autumn.Page 2
And so thoroughly did he understand his duties as a disciple, so wholly was he devoted to this cause, that, in spite of all his unquestioned gifts and the excellence of his original achievements, he was for a long while regarded as a mere "literary lackey" in Wagner's service, in all those circles where the rising musician was most disliked.Page 11
The only difference is that I recognised the fact, that I struggled against it.Page 12
--And, strange to say, at bottom I do not give it a.Page 14
Or that corrupted.Page 15
Here we venture to ask a question.Page 20
"He who overthrows us is strong; he who elevates us is godly; he who makes us wonder vaguely is profound.Page 23
If people would believe me, they would not form the highest idea of Wagner from that which pleases them in him to-day.Page 30
_: _la gaya scienza_; light feet, wit, fire, grave, grand logic, stellar dancing, wanton intellectuality, the vibrating light of the South, the calm sea--perfection.Page 32
If there were any signs that in spite of the universal character of European decadence there was still a modicum of health, still an instinctive premonition of what is harmful and dangerous, residing in the German soul, then it would be precisely this blunt resistance to Wagner which I should least like to see underrated.Page 38
Or it is in itself an age of degeneration, in which case it requires the virtues of declining life,--in which case it hates everything that justifies itself, solely as being the outcome of a plenitude, or a superabundance of strength.Page 40
He knows that weary shuffling along of the soul which is no longer able either to spring or to fly, nay, which is no longer able to walk, he has the modest glance of concealed suffering, of understanding without comfort, of leave-taking without word.Page 42
For the stage, this mob art _par excellence_, my soul has that deepest scorn felt by every artist to-day.Page 45
The age of international wars, of ultramontane martyrdom, in fact, the whole interlude-character which typifies the present condition of Europe, may indeed help an art like Wagner's to sudden glory, without, however, in the least ensuring its _future prosperity_.Page 50
Henceforward alone and cruelly distrustful of myself, I then took up sides--not without anger--_against myself_ and _for_ all that which hurt me and fell hard upon me; and thus I found the road to that courageous pessimism which is the opposite of all idealistic falsehood, and which, as it seems to me, is also the road to _me_--_to my mission_.Page 52
It is conceivable that it is just from woman--who is clairvoyant in the world of suffering, and, alas! also unfortunately eager to help and save to an extent far beyond her powers--that _they_ have learnt so readily those outbreaks of boundless _sympathy_ which the multitude, above all the reverent multitude, overwhelms with prying and self-gratifying interpretations.Page 53
I frankly confess that I had hoped that by means of art the Germans would become thoroughly disgusted with _decaying Christianity_--I regarded German mythology as a solvent, as a means of accustoming people to polytheism.Page 57
His _art_ has this effect upon artists, it is envious of all rivals.Page 63
by Houston Stuart Chamberlain (translated by G.