For your enemies showed us your likeness in their mirror: there looked you with the grimace of a devil, and sneeringly: so that we were afraid of you.
But what good did it do! Always did you prick us anew in heart and ear with your sayings. Then did we say at last: What does it matter how he look!
We must hear him; him who teaches: ‘You shall love peace as a means to new wars, and the short peace more than the long!’
No one ever spoke such warlike words: ‘What is good? To be brave is good. It is the good war that hallows every cause.’
O Zarathustra, our fathers’ blood stirred in our veins at such words: it was like the voice of spring to old wine-casks.
When the swords ran among one another like red-spotted serpents, then did our fathers become fond of life; the sun of every peace seemed to them languid and lukewarm, the long peace, however, made them ashamed.
How they sighed, our fathers, when they saw on the wall brightly furbished, dried-up swords! Like those they thirsted for war. For a sword thirsts to drink blood, and sparkles with desire.»- —
-When the kings thus discoursed and talked eagerly of the happiness of their fathers, there came upon Zarathustra no little desire to mock at their eagerness: for evidently they were very peaceable kings whom he saw before him, kings with old and refined features. But he restrained himself. «Well!» said he, «there leads the way, there lies the cave of Zarathustra; and this day is to have a long evening! At present, however, a cry of distress calls me hastily away from you.
It will honor my cave if kings want to sit and wait in it: but, to be sure, you will have to wait long!
Well! What of that! Where does one at present learn better to wait than at courts? And the whole virtue of kings that has remained to them- is it not called to-day: Ability to wait?»
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
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Chapter 4 The Leech
AND Zarathustra went thoughtfully on, further and lower down, through forests and past moory bottoms; as it happens, however, to every one who meditates upon hard matters, he trod thereby unawares upon a man. And lo, there spurted into his face all at once a cry of pain, and two curses and twenty bad invectives, so that in his fright he raised his stick and also struck the trodden one. Immediately afterwards, however, he regained his composure, and his heart laughed at the folly he had just committed.
«Pardon me,» said he to the trodden one, who had got up enraged, and had seated himself, «pardon me, and hear first of all a parable.
As a wanderer who dreams of remote things on a lonesome highway, runs unawares against a sleeping dog, a dog which lies in the sun:
-As both of them then start up and snap at each other, like deadly en-emies, those two beings mortally frightened- so did it happen to us.
And yet! And yet- how little was lacking for them to caress each other, that dog and that lonesome one! Are they not both- lonesome ones!»
-«Whoever you are,» said the trodden one, still enraged, «you tread also too nigh me with your parable, and not only with your foot!
Lo! am I then a dog?»- And then the sitting one got up, and pulled his naked arm out of the swamp. For at first he had lain outstretched on the ground, hidden and indiscernible, like those who lie in wait for swamp-game.
«But whatever are you about!» called out Zarathustra in alarm, for he saw a deal of blood streaming over the naked arm,- «what has hurt you? has an evil beast bit you, you unfortunate one?»
The bleeding one laughed, still angry, «What matter is it to you!» said he, and was about to go on. «Here am I at home and in my province. Let him question me whoever will: to a dolt, however, I shall hardly answer.»
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«You are mistaken,» said Zarathustra sympathetically, and held him fast; «you are mistaken. Here you are not at home, but in my domain, and therein shall no one receive any hurt.
Call me however what you wilt- I am who I must be. I call myself Zarathustra.
Well! Up there is the way to Zarathustra’s cave: it is not far,- will you not attend to your wounds at my home?
It has gone badly with you, you unfortunate one, in this life: first a beast bit you, and then- a man trod upon you!»- —
When however the trodden one had heard the name of Zarathustra he was transformed. «What happens to me!» he exclaimed, «who preoccu-pies me so much in this life as this one man, namely Zarathustra, and that one animal that lives on blood, the leech?
For the sake of the leech did I lie here by this swamp, like a fisher, and already had my outstretched arm been bitten ten times, when there bites a still finer leech at my blood, Zarathustra himself!
O happiness! O miracle! Praised be this day which enticed me into the swamp! Praised be the best, the livest cupping-glass, that at present lives; praised be the great conscience-leech Zarathustra!»-
Thus spoke the trodden one, and Zarathustra rejoiced at his words and their refined reverential style. «Who are you?» asked he, and gave him his hand, «there is much to clear up and elucidate between us, but already methinks pure clear day is dawning.»
«I am the spiritually conscientious one,» answered he who was asked, «and in matters of the spirit it is difficult for any one to take it more rig-orously, more restrictedly, and more severely than I, except him from whom I learnt it, Zarathustra himself.
Better know nothing than half-know many things! Better be a fool on one’s own account, than a sage on other people’s approbation! I- go to the basis:
-What matter if it be great or small? If it be called swamp or sky? A handbreadth of basis is enough for me, if it be actually basis and ground!
-A handbreadth of basis: there can one stand. In the true knowing-knowledge there is nothing great and nothing small.»
«Then you are perhaps an expert on the leech?» asked Zarathustra; «and you investigate the leech to its ultimate basis, you conscientious one?»
«O Zarathustra,» answered the trodden one, «that would be something immense; how could I presume to do so!
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That, however, of which I am master and knower, is the brain of the leech:- that is my world!
And it is also a world! Forgive it, however, that my pride here finds expression, for here I have not my equal. Therefore said I: ‘here am I at home.’
How long have I investigated this one thing, the brain of the leech, so that here the slippery truth might no longer slip from me! Here is my domain!
-For the sake of this did I cast everything else aside, for the sake of this did everything else become indifferent to me; and close beside my know-ledge lies my black ignorance.
My spiritual conscience requires from me that it should be so- that I should know one thing, and not know all else: they are a loathing to me, all the semi-spiritual, all the hazy, hovering, and visionary.
Where my honesty ceases, there am I blind, and want also to be blind. Where I want to know, however, there want I also to be honest- namely, severe, rigorous, restricted, cruel and inexorable.
Because you once said, O Zarathustra: ‘Spirit is life which itself cuts in-to life’;- that led and allured me to your doctrine. And verily, with my own blood have I increased my own knowledge!»
-«As the evidence indicates,» broke in Zarathustra; for still was the blood flowing down on the naked arm of the conscientious one. For there had ten leeches bitten into it.
«O you strange fellow, how much does this very evidence teach me-namely, you yourself! And not all, perhaps, might I pour into your rigor-ous ear!
Well then! We part here! But I would rather find you again. Up there is the way to my cave: to-night shall you there by my welcome guest!
Fain would I also make amends to your body for Zarathustra treading upon you with his feet: I think about that. Just now, however, a cry of distress calls me hastily away from you.»
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
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Chapter 5 The Magician
1.
WHEN however Zarathustra had gone round a rock, then saw he on the same path, not far below him, a man who threw his limbs about like a maniac, and at last tumbled to the ground on his belly. «Halt!» said then Zarathustra to his heart, «he there must surely be the higher man, from him came that dreadful cry of distress,- I will see if I can help him.» When, however, he ran to the spot where the man lay on the ground, he found a trembling old man with fixed eyes; and in spite of all Zarathustra’s efforts to lift him and set him again on his feet, it was all in vain. The unfortunate one, also, did not seem to notice that some one was beside him; on the contrary, he continually looked around with moving gestures, like one forsaken and isolated from all the world. At last, however, after much trembling, and convulsion, and
