Songs from the Smoke

by Madeleine S. Miller

TWO MONOLOGUES

[Suggested by an article in the Philosophic Review.]

The Nietzsche Man

I'm despot here, imperious tyrant too, And glory in my master-loneliness. What matters it if kindred I have none, If none I deign to call my kindly friend? My greatest friend is my most virile foe, Who gives me widest room my strength to prove. All-conquering, master-man, Through will to power, through power to life I press. I love my neighbor, shield the poor, the weak, I tarry on my way to cheer the brute Who claims compassion for a wounded paw? I want no pity, and no pity give. Shall I who thirst for life, and must achieve, Have ought to do with death, disease, Or racking pain, unless it be To mount aloft by trampling on men's graves, By trampling over graves to mount aloft, Aloft, till I have shaped a world myself, Of men who live, but only live to serve? I want no pity and no pity give. The strong shall help the weak to die— True charity is this, to keep the virile stock Of master-morals whence I late have sprung Free from the softening manner of the weak And so, forbearance, love, and sympathy, Your unsubstantial spirit and the God You name the friend of sinners and the poor, I banish with contempt. What peace can they, What fullness, strength, purvey to me, a lord Of Truth surmounting womanish pity, love? For I'm the Last of Men.

His Rival Speaks

I'm maker and mover of men, I've power as much as I will, But not through compression Nor bold violation Of every man's birthright to live. Aye, talk all you will of your natural man, Of Titans discharging their strength, Say even, we're softened, degenerate men, Our God and philanthropy, weak. And raising the fallen, supporting the frail Is folly, and hindrance to progress, you say? But stay, Overman, and look deeper, I pray. You'll find it's no unworthy task To utilize forces now running astray, Restore to full strength the degenerate crowd. Aye, this is a task not unworthy of you. I too aim at power, but not for myself: The more men I love, the more I can serve, 'Tis thus I would measure my strength. You move in your separate realm where you're king, But I rule a world that is larger than yours, A world of God's vigorous sons. I'm maker and mover of men if you will, And more, I've the love of them all.