FOURTH AND LAST PART.
63. LXIII. TALK WITH THE KINGS. (continued)
Good manners! Everything is false and foul with us. No one knoweth any
longer how to reverence: it is THAT precisely that we run away from. They
are fulsome obtrusive dogs; they gild palm-leaves.
This loathing choketh me, that we kings ourselves have become false, draped
and disguised with the old faded pomp of our ancestors, show-pieces for the
stupidest, the craftiest, and whosoever at present trafficketh for power.
We ARE NOT the first men--and have nevertheless to STAND FOR them: of this
imposture have we at last become weary and disgusted.
From the rabble have we gone out of the way, from all those bawlers and
scribe-blowflies, from the trader-stench, the ambition-fidgeting, the bad
breath--: fie, to live among the rabble;
--Fie, to stand for the first men among the rabble! Ah, loathing!
Loathing! Loathing! What doth it now matter about us kings!"--
"Thine old sickness seizeth thee," said here the king on the left, "thy
loathing seizeth thee, my poor brother. Thou knowest, however, that some
one heareth us."
Immediately thereupon, Zarathustra, who had opened ears and eyes to this
talk, rose from his hiding-place, advanced towards the kings, and thus
began:
"He who hearkeneth unto you, he who gladly hearkeneth unto you, is called
Zarathustra.
I am Zarathustra who once said: 'What doth it now matter about kings!'
Forgive me; I rejoiced when ye said to each other: 'What doth it matter
about us kings!'
Here, however, is MY domain and jurisdiction: what may ye be seeking in my
domain? Perhaps, however, ye have FOUND on your way what I seek:
namely, the higher man."
When the kings heard this, they beat upon their breasts and said with one
voice: "We are recognised!
With the sword of thine utterance severest thou the thickest darkness of
our hearts. Thou hast discovered our distress; for lo! we are on our way
to find the higher man--
|