Fenrir's Fangs

52. 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, 'good God!'"- ruined in
mouths and stomachs by the pious confectioners.
  Or they look for long evenings at a crafty, lurking cross-spider,
that preacheth prudence to the spiders themselves, and teacheth that
"under crosses it is good for cobweb-spinning!"
  Or they sit all day at swamps with angle-rods, and on that account
think themselves profound; but whoever fisheth where there are no
fish, I do not even call him superficial!
  Or they learn in godly-gay style to play the harp with a
hymn-poet, who would fain harp himself into the heart of young girls:-
for he hath tired of old girls and their praises.
  Or they learn to shudder with a learned semi-madcap, who waiteth
in darkened rooms for spirits to come to him- and the spirit runneth
away entirely!
  Or they listen to an old roving howl- and growl-piper, who hath
learned from the sad winds the sadness of sounds; now pipeth he as the
wind, and preacheth sadness in sad strains.
  And some of them have even become night-watchmen: they know now
how to blow horns, and go about at night and awaken old things which
have long fallen asleep.
  Five words about old things did I hear yesternight at the
garden-wall: they came from such old, sorrowful, arid night-watchmen.
  "For a father he careth not sufficiently for his children: human
fathers do this better!"-
  "He is too old! He now careth no more for his children,"- answered
the other night-watchman.
  "Hath he then children? No one can prove it unless he himself
prove it! I have long wished that he would for once prove it
thoroughly."
  "Prove? As if he had ever proved anything! Proving is difficult to
him; he layeth great stress on one's believing him."
  "Ay! Ay! Belief saveth him; belief in him. That is the way with
old people! So it is with us also!"-
  -Thus spake to each other the two old night-watchmen and
light-scarers, and tooted thereupon sorrowfully on their horns: so did
it happen yesternight at the garden-wall.
  To me, however, did the heart writhe with laughter, and was like
to break; it knew not where to go, and sunk into the midriff.
  Verily, it will be my death yet- to choke with laughter when I see
asses drunken, and hear night-watchmen thus doubt about God.
  Hath the time not long since passed for all such doubts? Who may
nowadays awaken such old slumbering, light-shunning things!
  With the old Deities hath it long since come to an end:- and verily,
a good joyful Deity-end had they!
  They did not "begloom" themselves to death- that do people
fabricate! On the contrary, they- laughed themselves to death once
on a time!
  That took place when the ungodliest utterance came from a God
himself- the utterance: "There is but one God! Thou shalt have no
other gods before me!"-
  -An old grim-beard of a God, a jealous one, forgot himself in such
wise:-
  And all the gods then laughed, and shook upon their thrones, and
exclaimed: "Is it not just divinity that there are gods, but no God?"
  He that hath an ear let him hear.-

  Thus talked Zarathustra in the city he loved, which is surnamed "The
Pied Cow." For from here he had but two days to travel to reach once
more his cave and his animals; his soul, however, rejoiced unceasingly
on account of the nighness of his return home.