ON GREAT EVENTS
ON GREAT EVENTS
THERE IS AN ISLAND in the sea—not far from the happy islands of Zarathustra-on which a volcano always smokes; the people, and especially the old women among them, say that this island is placed as a rock before the gate of the underworld: but that the narrow downward path which leads to this gate goes through the volcano itself.
Now about the time that Zarathustra was living on the happy islands, it happened that a ship anchored at the island of the smoking mountain; and the crew went ashore to shoot rabbits. About noon, however, when the captain and his men were together again, they suddenly saw a man coming towards them through the air, and a voice said distinctly: “It is time! It is high time!” But when the figure was nearest to them-it flew past quickly however, like a shadow, in the direction of the volcano-then they recognized with the greatest surprise that it was Zarathustra; for they had all seen him before except the captain himself, and they loved him as the people love: in such a way that love and awe were combined in equal degree.
“Look at that!” said the old helmsman, “there goes Zarathustra to hell!”
About the same time that these sailors landed on the fire island, there was a rumor that Zarathustra had disappeared; and when his friends were asked about it, they said that he had gone on board a ship by night, without saying where he was going.
Thus there arose some uneasiness; but after three days the story of the ship’s crew came to add to this uneasiness-and now all the people said that the devil had taken Zarathustra. Of course his disciples laughed at this talk; and one of them even said: “I would sooner believe that Zarathustra has taken the devil.” But at the bottom of their hearts they were all full of anxiety and longing: so their joy was great when on the fifth day Zarathustra appeared among them.
And this is the story of Zarathustra’s conversation with the firedog:
The earth, he said, has a skin; and this skin has diseases. One of these diseases, for example, is called: “man.”
And another of these diseases is called “fire dog”: men have told many lies and been told many lies about him.
To fathom this secret I went over the sea: and I have seen truth naked, truly! barefoot to the neck.
Now I know how it is concerning the fire dog; and likewise concerning all the overthrow-and scum-devils which not only old women fear.
“Up with you, fire dog, out of your depth!” I cried, “and confess how deep that depth is! Whence comes that which you snort up?
“You drink deeply at the sea: your salty eloquence betrays that! Truly, for a dog of the depth you take your nourishment too much from the surface!
“At best I regard you as the ventriloquist of the earth: and every time I heard overthrow-and scum-devils speak, I found them like you: salty, lying, and superficial.
“You understand how to roar and to darken with ashes! You are the best braggarts, and have sufficiently learned the art of making mud boil.
“Where you are, there must always be mud at hand, and much that is spongy, hollow, and compressed: it wants to be freed.
“ ‘Freedom’ you all roar most eagerly: but I have unlearned belief in ‘great events,’ when there is much roaring and smoke about them.
“And believe me, friend hellish-noise! The greatest events—are not our loudest but our stillest hours. The world revolves not around the inventors of new noise but around the inventors of new values; it revolves inaudibly.
“Admit it! Once your noise and smoke passed away not much had taken place. What did it matter if a city had become mummified and a statue lay in the mud!
“And this I say also to the overthrowers of statues. It is certainly the greatest folly to throw salt into the sea and statues into the mud.
“The statue lay in the mud of your contempt: but just this is its law, that out of contempt its life and living beauty grow again!
“With more divine features it now arises, seductive in its suffering; and truly! it will yet thank you for overthrowing it, you subverters!
“But I offer this advice to kings and churches, and to all that is weak with age or virtue-let yourselves be overthrown! That you may again come to life, and that virtue may come to you!—”
Thus I spoke before the fire dog: then he interrupted me sullenly and asked: “Church? What is that?”
“Church?” I answered, “that is a kind of state, and indeed the most mendacious. But be silent, you deceptive dog! You surely know your own kind best!
“Like yourself the state is a deceptive dog; like you it likes to speak with smoke and roaring-to make believe, like you, that it speaks out of the belly of things.
“For it seeks by all means to be the most important beast on earth, the state; and people believe it too.”
When I had said this, the fire dog acted as if he were furious with envy. “What!” he cried, “the most important beast on earth? And people believe it too?” And so much steam and terrible shrieking came out of his throat that I thought he would choke with vexation and envy.
At last he became calmer and his panting subsided; but as soon as he was quiet I said laughingly:
“You are angry, fire dog: so I am right about you!
“And that I may continue to be right, hear about another fire dog: he really speaks from the heart of the earth.
“His breath exhales gold and golden rain: so his heart wants it. What are ashes and smoke and hot mud to him now!
“Laughter flutters from him like a mottled cloud; he does not like your gargling and spewing and griping of the bowels!
“But the gold and laughter—he takes these out of the heart of the earth: for, that you may know it—the heart of the earth is gold.”
When the firedog heard this he could no longer bear to listen to me. Abashed he drew in his tail, said “bow-wow!” in a cowed voice and crept down into his cave.-Thus related Zarathustra. But his disciples hardly listened to him: so great was their eagerness to tell him about the sailors, the rabbits, and the flying man.
“What am I to think of it!” said Zarathustra. “Am I indeed a ghost?
“But it must have been my shadow. Surely you have heard something of the Wanderer and his Shadow?
“But this is certain: I must guard it more closely—otherwise it will ruin my reputation.”
And once more Zarathustra shook his head and wondered. “What am I to think of it!” he said once more.
“Why did the ghost cry: ‘It is time! It is high time!’
“For what then is it-high time?”
Thus spoke Zarathustra.