4.
Finally, (that the most essential may not remain unsaid), one comes back out of such abysses, out of such severe sickness, and out of the sickness of strong suspicion—new-born, with the skin cast; more sensitive, more wicked, with a finer taste for joy, with a more delicate tongue for all good things, with a merrier disposition, with a second and more dangerous innocence in joy; more childish at the same time, and a hundred times more refined than ever before. Oh, how repugnant to us now is pleasure, coarse, dull, drab pleasure, as the pleasure-seekers, our "cultured" classes, our rich and ruling classes, usually understand it! How malignantly we now listen to the great holiday-hubbub with which "cultured people" and city-men at present allow themselves to be forced to "spiritual enjoyment" by art, books, and music, with the help of spirituous liquors! How the theatrical cry of passion now pains our ear, how strange to our taste has all the romantic riot and sensuous bustle which the cultured populace love become (together with their aspirations after the exalted, the elevated, and the intricate)! No, if we convalescents need an art at all, it is another art—a mocking, light, volatile, divinely serene, divinely ingenious art, which blazes up like a clear flame, into a cloudless heaven! Above all, an art for artists, only for artists! We at last know better what is first of all necessary for it—namely, cheerfulness, every kind of cheerfulness, my friends! also as artists:—I should like to prove it. We now know something too well, we men of knowledge: oh, how well we are now learning to forget and not know, as artists! And as to our future, we are not likely to be found again in the tracks of those Egyptian youths who at night make the temples unsafe, embrace statues, and would fain unveil, uncover, and put in clear light, everything which for good reasons is kept concealed.[2] No, we have got disgusted with this bad taste, this will to truth, to "truth at all costs," this youthful madness in the love of truth: we are now too experienced, too serious, too joyful, too singed, too profound for that.... We no longer believe that truth remains truth when the veil is withdrawn from it: we have lived long enough to believe this. At present we regard it as a matter of propriety not to be anxious either to see everything naked, or to be present at everything, or to understand and "know" everything. "Is it true that the good God is everywhere present?" asked a little girl of her mother: "I think that is indecent":—a hint to philosophers! One should have more reverence for the shamefacedness with which nature has concealed herself behind enigmas and motley uncertainties. Perhaps truth is a woman who has reasons for not showing her reasons? Perhaps her name is Baubo, to speak in Greek?... Oh, those Greeks! They knew how to live: for that purpose it is necessary to keep bravely to the surface, the fold and the skin; to worship appearance, to believe in forms, tones, and words, in the whole Olympus of appearance! Those Greeks were superficial—from profundity! And are we not coming back precisely to this point, we dare-devils of the spirit, who have scaled the highest and most dangerous peak of contemporary thought, and have looked around us from it, have looked down from it? Are we not precisely in this respect—Greeks? Worshippers of forms, of tones, and of words? And precisely on that account—artists?
RUTA, near GENOA
Autumn, 1886.
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Footnote 1:
This means literally to put the numeral X instead of the numeral V (formerly U); hence it means to double a number unfairly, to exaggerate, humbug, cheat.—TR.
Footnote 2:
An allusion to Schiller's poem: "The Veiled Image of Sais."—TR.
JEST, RUSE AND REVENGE.
A PRELUDE IN RHYME.
1.
Invitation.
Venture, comrades, I implore you, On the fare I set before you, You will like it more to-morrow, Better still the following day: If yet more you're then requiring, Old success I'll find inspiring, And fresh courage thence will borrow Novel dainties to display.
2.
My Good Luck.
Weary of Seeking had I grown, So taught myself the way to Find: Back by the storm I once was blown, But follow now, where drives the wind.
3.
Undismayed.
Where you're standing, dig, dig out: Down below's the Well: Let them that walk in darkness shout: "Down below—there's Hell!"
4.
Dialogue.
A. Was I ill? and is it ended? Pray, by what physician tended? I recall no pain endured! B. Now I know your trouble's ended: He that can forget, is cured.
5.
To the Virtuous.
Let our virtues be easy and nimble-footed in motion, Like unto Homer's verse ought they to come and to go.
6.
Worldly Wisdom.
Stay not on level plain, Climb not the mount too high, But half-way up remain— The world you'll best descry!
7.
Vademecum—Vadetecum.
Attracted by my style and talk You'd follow, in my footsteps walk? Follow yourself unswervingly, So—careful!—shall you follow me.
8.
The Third Sloughing.
My skin bursts, breaks for fresh rebirth, And new desires come thronging: Much I've devoured, yet for more earth The serpent in me's longing. 'Twixt stone and grass I crawl once more, Hungry, by crooked ways, To eat the food I ate before, Earth-fare all serpents praise!
9.
My Roses.
My luck's good—I'd make yours fairer, (Good luck ever needs a sharer), Will you stop and pluck my roses?
Oft mid rocks and thorns you'll linger, Hide and stoop, suck bleeding finger— Will you stop and pluck my roses?
For my good luck's a trifle vicious, Fond of teasing, tricks malicious— Will you stop and pluck my roses?
10.
The Scorner.
Many drops I waste and spill, So my scornful mood you curse: Who to brim his cup doth fill, Many drops must waste and spill— Yet he thinks the wine no worse.
11.
The Proverb Speaks.
Harsh and gentle, fine and mean, Quite rare and common, dirty and clean, The fools' and the sages' go-between: All this I will be, this have been, Dove and serpent and swine, I ween!
12.
To a Lover of Light.
That eye and sense be not fordone E'en in the shade pursue the sun!
13.
For Dancers.
Smoothest ice, A paradise To him who is a dancer nice.
14.
The Brave Man.
A feud that knows not flaw nor break, Rather then patched-up friendship, take.
15.
Rust.
Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy! "He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry.
16.
Excelsior.
"How shall I reach the top?" No time For thus reflecting! Start to climb!
17.
The Man of Power Speaks.
Ask never! Cease that whining, pray! Take without asking, take alway!
18.
Narrow Souls.
Narrow souls hate I like the devil, Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.
19.
_Accidentally a Seducer._[3]
He shot an empty word Into the empty blue; But on the way it met A woman whom it slew.
20.
For Consideration.
A twofold pain is easier far to bear Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?
21.
Against Pride.
Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick: For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!
22.
Man and Woman.
"The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!" Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.
23.
Interpretation.
If I explain my wisdom, surely 'Tis but entangled more securely, I can't expound myself aright: But he that's boldly up and doing, His own unaided course pursuing, Upon my image casts more light!
24.
A Cure for Pessimism.
Those old capricious fancies, friend! You say your palate naught can please, I hear you bluster, spit and wheeze, My love, my patience soon will end! Pluck up your courage, follow me— Here's a fat toad! Now then, don't blink, Swallow it whole, nor pause to think! From your dyspepsia you'll be free!
25.
A Request.
Many men's minds I know full well, Yet what mine own is, cannot tell. I cannot see—my eye's too near— And falsely to myself appear. 'Twould be to me a benefit Far from myself if I could sit, Less distant than my enemy, And yet my nearest friend's too nigh— 'Twixt him and me, just in the middle! What do I ask for? Guess my riddle!
26.
My Cruelty.
I must ascend an hundred stairs, I must ascend: the herd declares I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?" I must ascend an hundred stairs: All men the part of stair disown.
27.
The Wanderer.
"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!" Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing! Now comes the test! Keep cool—eyes bright and clear! Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest—fear.
28.
Encouragement for Beginners.
See the infant, helpless creeping— Swine around it grunt swine-talk— Weeping always, naught but weeping, Will it ever learn to walk? Never fear! Just wait, I swear it Soon to dance will be inclined, And this babe, when two legs bear it, Standing on its head you'll find.
29.
Planet Egoism.
Did I not turn, a rolling cask, Ever about myself, I ask, How could I without burning run Close on the track of the hot sun?
30.
The Neighbour.
Too nigh, my friend my joy doth mar, I'd have him high above and far, Or how can he become my star?
31.
The Disguised Saint.
Lest we for thy bliss should slay thee, In devil's wiles thou dost array thee, Devil's wit and devil's dress. But in vain! Thy looks betray thee And proclaim thy holiness.
32.
The Slave.
A. He stands and listens: whence his pain? What smote his ears? Some far refrain? Why is his heart with anguish torn? B. Like all that fetters once have worn, He always hears the clinking—chain!