ON LITTLE OLD AND YOUNG WOMEN

ON LITTLE OLD AND YOUNG WOMEN11

“WHY DO YOU STEAL along so furtively in the twilight, Zarathustra ? And what do you hide so carefully under your cloak?

“Is it a treasure you have been given? Or a child born to you? Or do you yourself now follow the ways of thieves, you friend of the evil?”—

“Truly, my brother,” said Zarathustra, “it is a treasure that has been given me: it is a little truth that I carry.

“But it is naughty like a young child: and if I do not hold its mouth, it screams too loudly.

“As I went on my way alone today, at the hour when the sun goes down, there I met a little old woman who spoke thus to my soul:12

“Much has Zarathustra spoken also to us women, but he never spoke to us concerning woman.”

And I answered her: “About woman one should speak only to men.”

“Speak to me also of woman,” she said: “I am old enough to forget it immediately.”

And I obliged the old woman and spoke thus to her:

Everything about woman is a riddle, and everything about woman has one solution: it is called pregnancy.

For woman man is a means: the end is always the child. But what is woman for man?

The true man wants two things: danger and play. Therefore he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.

Man should be trained for war and woman for the recreation of the warrior: all else is folly.

All-too-sweet fruit-the warrior does not like it. Therefore he likes woman; even the sweetest woman is also bitter.

Woman understands children better than man does, but man is more childlike than woman.

In the true man a child is hidden: it wants to play. Come, you women, and discover the child in man!

Let woman be a plaything, pure and fine, like a precious stone, illumined with the virtues of a world not yet come.

Let the beam of a star shine through your love! Let your hope say: “May I bear the Übermensch!”

In your love let there be courage! With your love you should go forth to him who inspires you with fear!

Let there be honor in your love! Little does woman understand of honor otherwise. But let this be your honor: always to love more than you are loved, and never to be second.

Let man fear woman when she loves: then she makes every sacrifice, and everything else she considers worthless.

Let man fear woman when she hates: for man in his innermost soul is merely evil, but woman is bad.

Whom does woman hate most?—Thus spoke the iron to the magnet: “I hate you most because you attract, but are not strong enough to pull me to you.”

The happiness of man is: I will. The happiness of woman is: he wills.

“Behold, just now the world has become perfect!”—thus thinks every woman when she obeys with all her love.

And woman must obey, and find a depth for her surface. Woman’s nature is surface, a mobile stormy film over shallow water.

But a man’s nature is deep, his current roars in subterranean caverns: woman senses its strength, but does not comprehend it.—

Then the little old woman answered me: “Zarathustra has said many fine things, especially for those who are young enough for them.

“It’s strange, Zarathustra knows little about woman, and yet he is right about them! Is this because with women nothing is impossible ?

“And now accept as thanks a little truth! I am surely old enough for it!

“Swaddle it up and hold its mouth: otherwise it will scream too loudly, this little truth.”

“Give me, woman, your little truth!” I said. And thus spoke the little old woman:

“You go to women? Do not forget the whip!”—

Thus spoke Zarathustra.