On Science
Thus sang the sorcerer; and all who were gathered there went unawares, like birds, into the net of his cunning and melancholy lust. Only the conscientious one of the spirit was not caught: he quickly took the harp away from the sorcerer and cried: “Air! Let good air in! Let Zarathustra in! You are making this cave sultry and poisonous, you wicked old sorcerer!
“You seduce, you false, subtle one, toward unknown desires and wildernesses. And woe when such as you make a great fuss about truth!
“Woe to all free spirits who are not on their guard against such sorcerers! Their freedom is done for: you teach and lure back into prisons,—
“—you old melancholy devil, out of your lament sounds a decoy whistle; you are like those who with their praise of chastity secretly invite to lusts!”
Thus spoke the conscientious one; but the old sorcerer looked around, enjoyed his victory, and for its sake swallowed the annoyance the conscientious one caused him. “Be still!” he said in a modest voice. “Good songs want to echo well; after good songs one should be silent for a long time.
“That is what all these do, the higher humans. But you, I suppose, have understood little of my song? There is little of a magic spirit in you.”
“You praise me,” retorted the conscientious one, “by separating me from yourself; well then! But you others, what do I see? You are all still sitting there with lusting eyes—:
“You free souls, where has your freedom gone! It almost seems to me you are like those who have long watched wicked, dancing, naked girls: your souls are dancing themselves!
“In you, you higher humans, there must be more of what the sorcerer calls his evil spirit of magic and deceit:—we must surely be different.
“And truly, we talked and thought together enough before Zarathustra came home to his cave for me to know: we are different.
“We seek different things up here too, you and I. For I seek more security; that is why I came to Zarathustra. For he is still the firmest tower and will—
“—today, when everything totters, when all the earth quakes. But you, when I see the eyes you make, it almost seems to me you seek more insecurity,
“—more shudders, more danger, more earthquake. You crave, so it almost seems to me, forgive my presumption, you higher humans—
“—you crave the worst, most dangerous life, which frightens me most, the life of wild beasts, forests, caves, steep mountains, and labyrinthine chasms.
“And it is not the leaders out of danger who please you best, but those who lead you away from all paths, the misleaders. But if such craving in you is real, it seems to me impossible nonetheless.
“For fear—that is the human being’s inherited and fundamental feeling; from fear everything is explained, original sin and original virtue. From fear my virtue too has grown, and it is called: science.
“For fear of wild beasts—that was bred into the human being longest of all, including the beast he harbors and fears in himself:—Zarathustra calls it ‘the inner beast.’
“Such long, old fear, at last grown subtle, spiritual, intellectual—today, it seems to me, it is called: science.”—
Thus spoke the conscientious one; but Zarathustra, who was just coming back into his cave and had heard and guessed the last speech, threw the conscientious one a handful of roses and laughed at his “truths.” “What!” he cried. “What did I just hear? Truly, it seems to me you are a fool, or I am one myself: and your ‘truth’ I will stand on its head in a flash.
“For fear—is our exception. But courage and adventure and joy in the uncertain, in the undared,—courage seems to me the human being’s whole prehistory.
“He envied and robbed the wildest, most courageous animals of all their virtues: only so did he become—human.
“This courage, at last grown subtle, spiritual, intellectual, this human courage with eagle’s wings and serpent’s cleverness: that, it seems to me, is called today—”
“Zarathustra!” cried all who sat together, as with one mouth, and they laughed a great laugh; and it was as if a heavy cloud lifted from them. The sorcerer laughed too and said cleverly: “Well then! He is gone, my evil spirit!
“And did I not warn you against him myself when I said he was a deceiver, a spirit of lies and deceit?
“Especially when he shows himself naked. But what can I do about his tricks! Did I create him and the world?
“Well then! Let us be good again and of good cheer! And although Zarathustra looks angry—just look at him! he bears me a grudge—:
“—before night comes he will learn again to love and praise me; he cannot live long without committing such follies.
“He—loves his enemies: this art he understands best of all whom I have seen. But he takes revenge for it—on his friends!”
Thus spoke the old sorcerer, and the higher humans applauded him: so that Zarathustra went around and shook his friends’ hands with malice and love,—as one who has something to make good and to apologize for to all of them. But when in doing so he came to the door of his cave, behold, he already craved again the good air out there and his animals,—and he wanted to slip out.