ON SCIENCE

ON SCIENCE

THUS SANG THE MAGICIAN; and all who were present went like birds unawares into the net of his cunning and melancholy voluptuousness. Only the conscientious in spirit was not caught: he at once snatched the harp from the magician and called out: “Air! Let in good air! Let in Zarathustra! You make this cave sultry and poisonous, you bad old magician!

“You seduce, you false one, you subtle one, to unknown desires and wildernesses. And ah, that such as you should talk and worry about the truth!

“Woe to all free spirits who are not on their guard against such magicians! It is all over with their freedom: you teach and lure back into prisons,—

—“you old melancholy devil, a seductive bird call sounds out of your lament, you resemble those who with their praise of chastity secretly invite to voluptuousness!”

Thus spoke the conscientious in spirit; but the old magician looked about him, enjoying his triumph, and for that reason tolerated the annoyance that the conscientious caused him. “Be quiet!” he said in a modest voice, “good songs want to echo well; after good songs one should long be silent.

“Thus do all the higher men. But you have perhaps understood only little of my song? There is little of the spirit of magic in you.”

“You praise me,” replied the conscientious one, “when you distinguish me from yourself. Very well! But you others, what do I see? You still sit there, all of you, with lusting eyes-:

“You free souls, where has your freedom gone! To me you almost look like those who have long been watching naughty naked dancing girls: your souls themselves dance!

“In you, you higher men, there must be more of that which the magician calls his evil spirit of magic and deceit—we must indeed be different.

“And truly, we spoke and thought long enough together before Zarathustra came home to his cave, for me to know: we are different.

“We seek different things even up here, you and I. For I seek more security, that is why I came to Zarathustra. For he is still the most steadfast tower and will—

—“today, when everything totters, when all the earth quakes. But you, when I see what eyes you make, it almost seems to me that you seek more insecurity,

—“more horror, more danger, more earthquaking. You long, so it almost seems to me, forgive my presumption, you higher men—

—“you long for the worst and most dangerous life, which frightens me most, for the life of wild beasts, for forests, caves, steep mountains and labyrinthine gorges.

“And it is not those who lead out of danger that please you best, but those who lead you away from all paths, the misleaders. But if you actually harbor such longings, they seem to me nevertheless to be impossible.

“For fear-that is man’s original and fundamental feeling; through fear everything is explained, original sin and original virtue. Through fear my virtue also grew, that is to say: science.

“For fear of wild animals-that has been fostered in man the longest, including the animal he conceals and fears in himself—Zarathustra calls it ‘the beast within.’

“Such prolonged ancient fear, at last become subtle, spiritual, intellectual—today, I think, it is called: science.”—

Thus spoke the conscientious one; but Zarathustra, who had just come back into his cave and had heard and understood the last speech, threw a handful of roses to the conscientious man and laughed at his “truths.” “What!” he exclaimed, “what did I hear just now? Truly, I think you are a fool, or I myself am one: and I will straightaway stand your ”truth” on its head.

“For fear—is the exception with us. But courage and adventure and delight in the uncertain, in the unattempted—courage seems to me the whole prehistory of man.

“He has envied the wildest and most courageous animals and robbed them of all their virtues: only thus did he become—man.

“This courage, at last become subtle, spiritual, intellectual, this human courage, with eagle’s wings and serpent’s wisdom: this, it seems to me, is today called—”

“Zarathustra!” cried all of them there assembled as if with a single voice, and burst out at the same time into a great laughter; and it was as if a heavy cloud lifted from them. Even the magician laughed and said cleverly: “Well! It is gone, my evil spirit!

“And did I not myself warn you against it when I said that he was a deceiver, a lying and deceiving spirit?

“Especially when he shows himself naked. But what can I do about his tricks! Have I created him and the world?

“Well! Let us be good again, and of good cheer! And although Zarathustra looks angry—just see him! he bears a grudge against me—:

—“before night comes he will learn again to love and praise me, he cannot live long without committing such follies.

“He—loves his enemies: he knows this art better than any one I have seen. But he takes revenge for it—on his friends!”

Thus spoke the old magician, and the higher men applauded him: so that Zarathustra went round, and mischievously and lovingly shook hands with his friends-like one who has to make amends and apologize to every one for something. But when he came to the door of his cave, behold, then he longed again for the good air outside, and for his animals-and he wanted to slip out.