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Title: Intellectual Vagabonds
Author: Renzo Novatore
Language: en
Topics: egoist, individualist
Source: Retrieved on June  6, 2011 from https://sites.google.com/site/anarchyinitaly/renzo-novatore/intellectual-vagabonds

Renzo Novatore

Intellectual Vagabonds

“All who appear suspicious, hostile and dangerous to the good

bourgeois,” Stirner said, “could be brought together under the name

‘vagabond’; every vagabond way of life displeases the bourgeoisie. And

there are also intellectual vagabonds, to whom the hereditary dwelling

place of their fathers seems too cramped in and oppressive for them to

be content any more with its restricted space and so go to find more

space and light far away. Instead of remaining curled up in the family

cave stirring the ashes of moderate opinion, instead of accepting what

has given comfort and relief to thousands of generations as irrefutable

truth, they go beyond all the boundaries of tradition and run wild with

their impudent criticism and untamed mania for doubt. These extravagant

vagabonds form the class of the unstable, the restless, the volatile,

formed from the proletariat; and when left to give voice to their

unsettled natures, they are called unruly, hot heads, fanatics...”[1]

Oh, intellectual vagabonds! Pale, unrepentant subverters! The ones who

gallop on and on through the endless regions of their capricious

imaginations that create new things.

While speaking to them, Zarathustra once said: “The earth is still free

for great spirits. There are still many harbors for solitary spirits and

their kindred, around whom the aroma of tranquil seas drifts. Life is

still free, free for the free spirit.”

Then he continued: “Only where the state ceases to exist does the man

who is not futile begin: that is where the hymn to the necessary begins,

the refrain that is not uniform. There, where the state ceases to

exist... but watch a bit, my brothers: don’t you see the rainbow over

there and the bridges to the overhuman?”

But before telling them all of this, he spoke of the apes and lunatics

who bow at the feet of the “new idol” — the state. He said, “Oh my

brothers, do you want to be suffocated by the breath from their putrid

mouths and their unhealthy longings? Instead, shatter the windows and

save yourselves in the pure air!”

And they — the intellectual vagabonds — shattered the windows and rushed

eagerly through the desecrating freedom of the fields, where festive

nature wove songs of life; there where the golden crops danced in the

wind, kissed by the sun.

From that day forward, they — the subverters — declared themselves

outlaws... Enthralled by the seductive charm of freedom won, they almost

stayed lying on the ground, resting, when the symbolic murmur coming

from the verdant fronds of the mountain called them again, farther...

higher... They looked into each other’s eyes. The fire of love flashed

in each of their pupils like volcanic lava.

They then understood what the Teacher had told them and, recognizing

each other as “kindred spirits,” they all went off toward the peak of

the green mountain that was supposed to reveal new life to them.

When their profaning and sacrilegious feet rested on the high summits,

the sun was already setting, leaving nothing of itself but vast red

bands that resembled magnificent tongues of fire. At that moment, a sad

vision passed through all of their minds. They all seemed to see the

Teacher’s shadow sinking in those red flames. But in that primitive and

desolate silence, they still seemed to hear his voice telling them:

“Have no fear. I will rise again with the sun. And now the sunset is

ready for you as well, but you too will rise again with the first rays

of dawn.”

But, alas, turning back to look at each other, they felt a shudder of

terror enshrouding them in a mantle of desolation, since the fire of

love no longer flowed like volcanic lava in their pupils. The black

wings of melancholy beat violently at the door of their hearts filling

them with sadness and sleep.

When the dawn came, with its silvery motes, to find the eyes of the free

sleepers, to announce the birth of a new day, they leapt to their feet

with an even more fiery flame in their eyes. They sang a hymn to life

and focused intensely on the distance.

A few moments passed, and then a howl of dionysian joy poured out from

all their throbbing breasts.

The rainbow and the bridge to the overhuman, of which the Teacher had

spoken, now rose up majestically, brilliantly from the midst of the

murky flames of the christian fog.

Gradually, as the sun lit up the horizon, they came to the realization

that those regions were already inhabited by other Creatures. Oh, they

even recognized these inhabitants... They saw, in all their tragic

beauty, Henrik Ibsen’s creatures, who with the volcanic fire of passion

their eyes, terribly destroyed the gangrenous plagues aimed against the

I by social prejudice. And through all that this symbolic Ibsenian

destruction, it seemed to them that they caught sight of the birth of

the overhuman.

With silent minds and hearts on fire, they watch Rubek and Irene rise up

from the grave to head to where the white flood was waiting, which,

saturated with death, sprouted the eternal light of life. But still they

watched. They watched and saw! They saw the “Fisherman” — who lived in

the “House of Pomegranates” that Oscar Wilde built in the middle of the

misty light that emanated from the rainbow that was rising on the flanks

of the overhuman — come out, with his great, irrefutable passion locked

in his heart. He launched himself at the priest’s house, the Market

square, the rock where a young and incredible Mayulda lives and on to

the mountain saturated with baleful devices, where she urged him so that

she could seduce him in a diabolical witches’ dance presided over by the

One who could do everything before the appearance of the Fisherman.

But the FISHERMAN challenged everyone, defeated everyone, so impelling

is the mad and tenacious desire of his passion. He had to free himself

from his soul, the sole obstacle now between him and his heart, since

only after this liberation would he be able to freely plunge into the

frightening whirlpools of the sea to join his mermaid who lived in the

abyss, and who alone could give him the joyous intoxication of love.

Oh, how many things these Intellectual Vagabonds would have seen

gleaming between the “rainbow” and the bridges to the overhuman if the

uncouth and bestial howl of the vulgar herd — which still vegetates in

stagnant waters and grows old without ever renewing itself at the foot

of the rocky mountain — had not shaken them, calling them maniacs and

lunatics.

A smile of scorn and bitter irony still curled their lips when a red

automobile drove ominously through one of the biggest modern cities and,

terrible as lightning, propagated a new form of life.

But now I realize that I have wandered. And, worse, in wandering, I have

placed myself in bad company... Stirner and Nietzsche, Henrik Ibsen and

Oscar Wilde. Is there even a gray automobile? Madmen, degenerates,

delinquents, all of them

Oh, luminaries, you save me from the wrath of decent people... And save

me yet again from those who don’t take the time to destroy, each day in

battle, a bit of this society that oppresses and crushes us, but rather

waste their time trying to teach, to impose systems of struggle and

thought on those who have tried to learn to struggle and think for

themselves. And when their time is not used up in accomplishing all

this, it is employed in figuring out how big the lunatic asylums, in

which the new rebels against the future society will get locked up, will

have to be.

For my part, I find myself in good company with these madmen, and along

with one of them, perhaps the best, I cry: “scorn them, scorn the good

and the just, since they have always been the beginning of the end.” Oh,

how well I have lived in the company of these madmen! How great I find

their “madness of destruction”! I assure that I love destructive madness

more, far, far more than conserving wisdom.

Yes, yes, leave me with my madmen since I promise you that if the next

European revolution denies us the joy of falling wrapped in the delirium

of DESTRUCTION, in better times, I will come back to speak of Them, and

if there is anything to reproach — perhaps the smallness of their

madness? — I will do it and without reserve.

 

[1] Novatore is not quoting Stirner precisely here, but rather, in part,

poetically paraphrasing him.