Thus Spake Zarathustra [63]
to soar away into distant futures.
Into more distant futures, into more southern souths than ever artist dreamed of: thither, where Gods are ashamed of all clothes!
But disguised do I want to see YOU, ye neighbours and fellowmen, and well- attired and vain and estimable, as "the good and just;"--
And disguised will I myself sit amongst you--that I may MISTAKE you and myself: for that is my last manly prudence.--
Thus spake Zarathustra.
XLIV. THE STILLEST HOUR.
What hath happened unto me, my friends? Ye see me troubled, driven forth, unwillingly obedient, ready to go--alas, to go away from YOU!
Yea, once more must Zarathustra retire to his solitude: but unjoyously this time doth the bear go back to his cave!
What hath happened unto me? Who ordereth this?--Ah, mine angry mistress wisheth it so; she spake unto me. Have I ever named her name to you?
Yesterday towards evening there spake unto me MY STILLEST HOUR: that is the name of my terrible mistress.
And thus did it happen--for everything must I tell you, that your heart may not harden against the suddenly departing one!
Do ye know the terror of him who falleth asleep?--
To the very toes he is terrified, because the ground giveth way under him, and the dream beginneth.
This do I speak unto you in parable. Yesterday at the stillest hour did the ground give way under me: the dream began.
The hour-hand moved on, the timepiece of my life drew breath--never did I hear such stillness around me, so that my heart was terrified.
Then was there spoken unto me without voice: "THOU KNOWEST IT, ZARATHUSTRA?"--
And I cried in terror at this whispering, and the blood left my face: but I was silent.
Then was there once more spoken unto me without voice: "Thou knowest it, Zarathustra, but thou dost not speak it!"--
And at last I answered, like one defiant: "Yea, I know it, but I will not speak it!"
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "Thou WILT not, Zarathustra? Is this true? Conceal thyself not behind thy defiance!"--
And I wept and trembled like a child, and said: "Ah, I would indeed, but how can I do it! Exempt me only from this! It is beyond my power!"
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What matter about thyself, Zarathustra! Speak thy word, and succumb!"
And I answered: "Ah, is it MY word? Who am _I_? I await the worthier one; I am not worthy even to succumb by it."
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What matter about thyself? Thou art not yet humble enough for me. Humility hath the hardest skin."--
And I answered: "What hath not the skin of my humility endured! At the foot of my height do I dwell: how high are my summits, no one hath yet told me. But well do I know my valleys."
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "O Zarathustra, he who hath to remove mountains removeth also valleys and plains."--
And I answered: "As yet hath my word not removed mountains, and what I have spoken hath not reached man. I went, indeed, unto men, but not yet have I attained unto them."
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What knowest thou THEREOF! The dew falleth on the grass when the night is most silent."--
And I answered: "They mocked me when I found and walked in mine own path; and certainly did my feet then tremble.
And thus did they speak unto me: Thou forgottest the path before, now dost thou also forget how to walk!"
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What matter about their mockery! Thou art one who hast unlearned to obey: now shalt thou command!
Knowest thou not who is most needed by all? He who commandeth great things.
To execute great things is difficult: but the more difficult task is to command great things.
This is thy most unpardonable obstinacy: thou hast the power, and thou wilt not rule."--
And I answered: "I lack the lion's voice for all commanding."
Then was there again spoken unto me as a whispering: "It is the stillest words which bring
Into more distant futures, into more southern souths than ever artist dreamed of: thither, where Gods are ashamed of all clothes!
But disguised do I want to see YOU, ye neighbours and fellowmen, and well- attired and vain and estimable, as "the good and just;"--
And disguised will I myself sit amongst you--that I may MISTAKE you and myself: for that is my last manly prudence.--
Thus spake Zarathustra.
XLIV. THE STILLEST HOUR.
What hath happened unto me, my friends? Ye see me troubled, driven forth, unwillingly obedient, ready to go--alas, to go away from YOU!
Yea, once more must Zarathustra retire to his solitude: but unjoyously this time doth the bear go back to his cave!
What hath happened unto me? Who ordereth this?--Ah, mine angry mistress wisheth it so; she spake unto me. Have I ever named her name to you?
Yesterday towards evening there spake unto me MY STILLEST HOUR: that is the name of my terrible mistress.
And thus did it happen--for everything must I tell you, that your heart may not harden against the suddenly departing one!
Do ye know the terror of him who falleth asleep?--
To the very toes he is terrified, because the ground giveth way under him, and the dream beginneth.
This do I speak unto you in parable. Yesterday at the stillest hour did the ground give way under me: the dream began.
The hour-hand moved on, the timepiece of my life drew breath--never did I hear such stillness around me, so that my heart was terrified.
Then was there spoken unto me without voice: "THOU KNOWEST IT, ZARATHUSTRA?"--
And I cried in terror at this whispering, and the blood left my face: but I was silent.
Then was there once more spoken unto me without voice: "Thou knowest it, Zarathustra, but thou dost not speak it!"--
And at last I answered, like one defiant: "Yea, I know it, but I will not speak it!"
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "Thou WILT not, Zarathustra? Is this true? Conceal thyself not behind thy defiance!"--
And I wept and trembled like a child, and said: "Ah, I would indeed, but how can I do it! Exempt me only from this! It is beyond my power!"
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What matter about thyself, Zarathustra! Speak thy word, and succumb!"
And I answered: "Ah, is it MY word? Who am _I_? I await the worthier one; I am not worthy even to succumb by it."
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What matter about thyself? Thou art not yet humble enough for me. Humility hath the hardest skin."--
And I answered: "What hath not the skin of my humility endured! At the foot of my height do I dwell: how high are my summits, no one hath yet told me. But well do I know my valleys."
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "O Zarathustra, he who hath to remove mountains removeth also valleys and plains."--
And I answered: "As yet hath my word not removed mountains, and what I have spoken hath not reached man. I went, indeed, unto men, but not yet have I attained unto them."
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What knowest thou THEREOF! The dew falleth on the grass when the night is most silent."--
And I answered: "They mocked me when I found and walked in mine own path; and certainly did my feet then tremble.
And thus did they speak unto me: Thou forgottest the path before, now dost thou also forget how to walk!"
Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: "What matter about their mockery! Thou art one who hast unlearned to obey: now shalt thou command!
Knowest thou not who is most needed by all? He who commandeth great things.
To execute great things is difficult: but the more difficult task is to command great things.
This is thy most unpardonable obstinacy: thou hast the power, and thou wilt not rule."--
And I answered: "I lack the lion's voice for all commanding."
Then was there again spoken unto me as a whispering: "It is the stillest words which bring