THE ASS FESTIVAL13

1

BUT AT THIS PLACE in the litany Zarathustra could no longer control himself; he himself cried out Yeah-Yuh, louder even than the ass, and sprang into the midst of his maddened guests. “Whatever are you about, you grown-up children?” he exclaimed, pulling up the praying ones from the ground. “Ah, if any one else, except Zarathustra, had seen you:

“Everyone would think you the worst blasphemers, or the very most foolish old women, with your new belief!

“And you yourself, you old pope, how can you bring yourself to adore an ass in such a manner as god?”—

“0 Zarathustra,” answered the pope, “forgive me, but in divine matters I am more enlightened even than you. And it is right that it should be so.

“Better to adore god thus, in this form, than in no form at all! Think over this saying, my exalted friend: you will readily see that in such a saying there is wisdom.

“He who said ‘God is a Spirit’ took the greatest step and leap so far made on earth towards unbelief: such a saying is not easily corrected!

“My old heart leaps and bounds because there is still something to adore on earth. Forgive an old, pious pope’s heart that, O Zarathustra!—”

—“And you,” said Zarathustra to the wanderer and shadow, “you call and think yourself a free spirit? And here you practice such priestly idolatries?

“Truly, you behave even worse here than with your naughty brown girls, you evil new believer!”

“It is bad enough,” answered the wanderer and shadow, “you are right: but how can I help it! The old god lives again, O Zarathustra, you may say what you will.

“The ugliest man is to blame for it all: he has reawakened him. And if he replies that he once killed him, with gods death is always only a prejudice.”

—“And you,” said Zarathustra, “you evil old magician, what did you do! Who in this free age ought to believe in you any longer, when you believe in such divine asininities?

“What a stupid thing you have done; how could you, shrewd man, do such a stupid thing!”

“O Zarathustra,” answered the shrewd magician, “you are right, it was a stupid thing, and it was hard enough to do it.”

—“And even you,” said Zarathustra to the conscientious in spirit, “consider, and put your finger to your nose! Does nothing go against your conscience here? Is your spirit not too clean for this praying and the exhalations of these devotees?”

“There is something to that,” said the conscientious in spirit, and put his finger to his nose, “there is something in this spectacle which helps my conscience.

“Perhaps I dare not believe in god: but it is certain that god seems to me most worthy of belief in this form.

“God is said to be eternal, according to the testimony of the most pious: he who has so much time takes his time. As slow and as stupid as possible: thereby such a one can nevertheless go very far.

“And he who has too much spirit might well become infatuated with stupidity and folly. Think of yourself, O Zarathustra!

“You yourself-truly! even you could well become an ass through superabundance of wisdom.

“Does not the true sage willingly walk on the most crooked paths? The evidence teaches it, O Zarathustra,—your own evidence!”

—“And you yourself, finally,” said Zarathustra, and turned towards the ugliest man, who still lay on the ground stretching up his arm to the ass (for he gave it wine to drink). “Speak, you unspeakable, what have you been about!

“You seem transformed, your eyes glow, the cloak of the sublime covers your ugliness: what did you do?

“Is it then true what they say, that you have again awakened him? And why? Was he not killed for good reasons and done away with?

“You yourself seem to me awakened: what did you do? why did you turn around? Why did you get converted? Speak, you unspeakable!”

“0 Zarathustra,” answered the ugliest man, “you are a rogue!

“Whether he lives still, or lives again, or is thoroughly dead—which of the two of us knows that best? I ask you.

“But one thing I do know—I once learned it from you yourself, O Zarathustra: he who wants to kill most thoroughly—laughs.

“ ‘One does not kill by anger but by laughter’—thus you spoke once, O Zarathustra, you hidden one, you destroyer without anger, you dangerous saint,—you are a rogue!”

2

But then it happened that Zarathustra, astonished at such public roguish answers, jumped back to the door of his cave and, turning towards all his guests, cried out with a strong voice:

“O you jokers, all of you, you jesters! Why do you dissemble and disguise yourselves before me!

“How the hearts of all of you convulsed with delight and malice, because you had at last become again like little children-namely, pious,—

—“Because you at last did again as children do-namely, prayed, folded your hands and said ‘good God’!

“But now leave, I pray you, this nursery, my own cave, where today all childishness is carried on. Cool down, here outside, your hot childish playfulness and tumult of hearts.”

“To be sure: unless you become like little children you shall not enter into that kingdom of heaven.” (And Zarathustra pointed up with his hands.)

“But we certainly do not want to enter into the kingdom of heaven: we have become men,—so we want the kingdom of Earth.”

3

And once more Zarathustra began to speak. “O my new friends,” he said,—“you strange ones, you higher men, how well you please me now,—

—“Since you have become gay again! Truly you have all blossomed forth: it seems to me that for such flowers as you, new festivals are required.

—“A little valiant nonsense, some divine service and ass festival, some old gay Zarathustra fool, some blusterer to blow your souls bright.

“Do not forget this night and this ass festival, you higher men! That you invented with me, that I take as a good omen,-such things only the convalescents invent!

“And should you celebrate it again, this ass festival, do it from love of yourselves, do it also from love of me! And in memory of me!”14

Thus spoke Zarathustra.