Thus Spake Zarathustra [76]
no longer love, there should one--PASS BY!--
Thus spake Zarathustra, and passed by the fool and the great city.
LII. THE APOSTATES.
1.
Ah, lieth everything already withered and grey which but lately stood green and many-hued on this meadow! And how much honey of hope did I carry hence into my beehives!
Those young hearts have already all become old--and not old even! only weary, ordinary, comfortable:--they declare it: "We have again become pious."
Of late did I see them run forth at early morn with valorous steps: but the feet of their knowledge became weary, and now do they malign even their morning valour!
Verily, many of them once lifted their legs like the dancer; to them winked the laughter of my wisdom:--then did they bethink themselves. Just now have I seen them bent down--to creep to the cross.
Around light and liberty did they once flutter like gnats and young poets. A little older, a little colder: and already are they mystifiers, and mumblers and mollycoddles.
Did perhaps their hearts despond, because lonesomeness had swallowed me like a whale? Did their ear perhaps hearken yearningly-long for me IN VAIN, and for my trumpet-notes and herald-calls?
--Ah! Ever are there but few of those whose hearts have persistent courage and exuberance; and in such remaineth also the spirit patient. The rest, however, are COWARDLY.
The rest: these are always the great majority, the common-place, the superfluous, the far-too many--those all are cowardly!--
Him who is of my type, will also the experiences of my type meet on the way: so that his first companions must be corpses and buffoons.
His second companions, however--they will call themselves his BELIEVERS,-- will be a living host, with much love, much folly, much unbearded veneration.
To those believers shall he who is of my type among men not bind his heart; in those spring-times and many-hued meadows shall he not believe, who knoweth the fickly faint-hearted human species!
COULD they do otherwise, then would they also WILL otherwise. The half- and-half spoil every whole. That leaves become withered,--what is there to lament about that!
Let them go and fall away, O Zarathustra, and do not lament! Better even to blow amongst them with rustling winds,--
--Blow amongst those leaves, O Zarathustra, that everything WITHERED may run away from thee the faster!--
2.
"We have again become pious"--so do those apostates confess; and some of them are still too pusillanimous thus to confess.
Unto them I look into the eye,--before them I say it unto their face and unto the blush on their cheeks: Ye are those who again PRAY!
It is however a shame to pray! Not for all, but for thee, and me, and whoever hath his conscience in his head. For THEE it is a shame to pray!
Thou knowest it well: the faint-hearted devil in thee, which would fain fold its arms, and place its hands in its bosom, and take it easier:--this faint-hearted devil persuadeth thee that "there IS a God!"
THEREBY, however, dost thou belong to the light-dreading type, to whom light never permitteth repose: now must thou daily thrust thy head deeper into obscurity and vapour!
And verily, thou choosest the hour well: for just now do the nocturnal birds again fly abroad. The hour hath come for all light-dreading people, the vesper hour and leisure hour, when they do not--"take leisure."
I hear it and smell it: it hath come--their hour for hunt and procession, not indeed for a wild hunt, but for a tame, lame, snuffling, soft- treaders', soft-prayers' hunt,--
--For a hunt after susceptible simpletons: all mouse-traps for the heart have again been set! And whenever I lift a curtain, a night-moth rusheth out of it.
Did it perhaps squat there along with another night-moth? For everywhere do I smell small concealed communities; and wherever there are closets there are new devotees therein, and the atmosphere of devotees.
They sit for long evenings beside one another, and say: "Let us again become like little children and say,
Thus spake Zarathustra, and passed by the fool and the great city.
LII. THE APOSTATES.
1.
Ah, lieth everything already withered and grey which but lately stood green and many-hued on this meadow! And how much honey of hope did I carry hence into my beehives!
Those young hearts have already all become old--and not old even! only weary, ordinary, comfortable:--they declare it: "We have again become pious."
Of late did I see them run forth at early morn with valorous steps: but the feet of their knowledge became weary, and now do they malign even their morning valour!
Verily, many of them once lifted their legs like the dancer; to them winked the laughter of my wisdom:--then did they bethink themselves. Just now have I seen them bent down--to creep to the cross.
Around light and liberty did they once flutter like gnats and young poets. A little older, a little colder: and already are they mystifiers, and mumblers and mollycoddles.
Did perhaps their hearts despond, because lonesomeness had swallowed me like a whale? Did their ear perhaps hearken yearningly-long for me IN VAIN, and for my trumpet-notes and herald-calls?
--Ah! Ever are there but few of those whose hearts have persistent courage and exuberance; and in such remaineth also the spirit patient. The rest, however, are COWARDLY.
The rest: these are always the great majority, the common-place, the superfluous, the far-too many--those all are cowardly!--
Him who is of my type, will also the experiences of my type meet on the way: so that his first companions must be corpses and buffoons.
His second companions, however--they will call themselves his BELIEVERS,-- will be a living host, with much love, much folly, much unbearded veneration.
To those believers shall he who is of my type among men not bind his heart; in those spring-times and many-hued meadows shall he not believe, who knoweth the fickly faint-hearted human species!
COULD they do otherwise, then would they also WILL otherwise. The half- and-half spoil every whole. That leaves become withered,--what is there to lament about that!
Let them go and fall away, O Zarathustra, and do not lament! Better even to blow amongst them with rustling winds,--
--Blow amongst those leaves, O Zarathustra, that everything WITHERED may run away from thee the faster!--
2.
"We have again become pious"--so do those apostates confess; and some of them are still too pusillanimous thus to confess.
Unto them I look into the eye,--before them I say it unto their face and unto the blush on their cheeks: Ye are those who again PRAY!
It is however a shame to pray! Not for all, but for thee, and me, and whoever hath his conscience in his head. For THEE it is a shame to pray!
Thou knowest it well: the faint-hearted devil in thee, which would fain fold its arms, and place its hands in its bosom, and take it easier:--this faint-hearted devil persuadeth thee that "there IS a God!"
THEREBY, however, dost thou belong to the light-dreading type, to whom light never permitteth repose: now must thou daily thrust thy head deeper into obscurity and vapour!
And verily, thou choosest the hour well: for just now do the nocturnal birds again fly abroad. The hour hath come for all light-dreading people, the vesper hour and leisure hour, when they do not--"take leisure."
I hear it and smell it: it hath come--their hour for hunt and procession, not indeed for a wild hunt, but for a tame, lame, snuffling, soft- treaders', soft-prayers' hunt,--
--For a hunt after susceptible simpletons: all mouse-traps for the heart have again been set! And whenever I lift a curtain, a night-moth rusheth out of it.
Did it perhaps squat there along with another night-moth? For everywhere do I smell small concealed communities; and wherever there are closets there are new devotees therein, and the atmosphere of devotees.
They sit for long evenings beside one another, and say: "Let us again become like little children and say,