The Tree on the Hill

ZARATHUSTRA’s eye had perceived that a certain youth avoided him. And as he walked alone one evening over the hills surrounding the town called «The Pied Cow,» behold, there he found the youth sitting leaning against a tree, and gazing with wearied look into the valley. Zarathustra then laid hold of the tree beside which the youth sat, and spoke thus:
«If I wished to shake this tree with my hands, I should not be able to do so.
But the wind, which we do not see, troubles and bends it as it lists. We are worst bent and troubled by invisible hands.»
Then the youth arose disconcerted, and said: «I hear Zarathustra, and just now was I thinking of him!» Zarathustra answered:
«Why are you frightened on that account?- But it is the same with man as with the tree.
The more he seeks to rise into the height and light, the more vigor-ously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark and deep- into evil.»
«Yes, into evil!» cried the youth. «How is it possible that you have dis-covered my soul?»
Zarathustra smiled, and said: «Many a soul one can never discover, unless one firsts invents it.»
«Yes, into evil!» cried the youth once more.
«You said the truth, Zarathustra. I trust myself no longer since I sought to rise into the height, and nobody trusts me any longer; how does that happen?
I change too quickly: my today refutes my yesterday. I often overleap the steps when I climb; none of the steps pardons me for it.
When aloft, I find myself always alone. No one speaks to me; the frost of solitude makes me tremble. What do I seek in the heights?
My contempt and my longing increase together; the higher I climb, the more do I despise him who climbs. What does he seek in the heights?

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How ashamed I am of my climbing and stumbling! How I mock my violent panting! How I hate him who flies! How tired I am on the height!»
Here the youth was silent. And Zarathustra contemplated the tree be-side which they stood, and spoke thus:
«This tree stands lonely here on the hills; it has grown up high above man and beast.
And if it wanted to speak, there would be no one who could under-stand it: so high has it grown.
Now it waits and waits,- for what does it wait? It dwells too close to the seat of the clouds; it waits- for the lightning?»
When Zarathustra had said this, the youth called out with violent ges-tures: «Yes, Zarathustra, you speak the truth. I longed for my destruc-tion, when I wanted to be in the heights, and you are the lightning for which I waited! Behold, what have I been since you have appeared amongst us? It is my envy of you that has destroyed me!»- Thus spoke the youth, and wept bitterly. Zarathustra, however, put his arm about him, and led the youth away with him.
And when they had walked a while together, Zarathustra began to speak thus:
It rends my heart. Better than your words can express it, your eyes tell me all your danger.
You are not yet free; you still search for freedom. You are too weary from your search, and too wakeful.
You aspire to the heights; you thirst for the stars. But your evil im-pulses also thirst for freedom.
Your wild dogs want freedom; they bark for joy in their cellar when your spirit trys to open all prison doors.
To me you are still a prisoner who seeks his freedom: ah! in such pris-oners the soul becomes clever, but also deceitful and wicked.
And the liberated spirit must still purify himself. Much of the prison and the mould still remains in him: his eye has still to become pure.
Yes, I know your danger. But by my love and hope I beseech you: do not throw away your love and hope!
You still feel noble, and others still feel your nobility, though they bear you a grudge and cast evil glances. Know that the noble one stands in everyones way.
To the good, also, a noble one stands in the way: and even when they call him a good man, they want to push him aside.

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The noble man would create the new, and a new virtue. The good want the old, and that the old should be preserved.
But it is not the danger of the noble man that he might become one of the good, but that he might become a blusterer, a scoffer, or a destroyer.
Ah! I have known noble ones who lost their highest hope. And then they slandered all high hopes.
Then they lived shamelessly in brief pleasures, only lived from day to day.
«Spirit too is lust,»- they said. The wings of their spirit are broken; and now their spirit crawls about, and defiles what it gnaws.
Once they thought of becoming heroes; now they are libertines. The idea of the hero offends and troubles them.
But by my love and hope I beseech you: do not throw away the hero in your soul! Keep sacred your highest hope!-
Thus spoke Zarathustra.

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Chapter 9

The Preachers of Death

THERE are preachers of death: and the earth is full of those to whom re-nunciation of life must be preached.
The earth is full of the superfluous; life is marred by the all-too-many. May they be tempted out of this life by the «life eternal»!
«The yellow ones»: so are called the preachers of death, or «the black ones.» But I will show them to you in still other colors.
There are the terrible ones who carry about in themselves the beast of prey, and have no choice except lusts or self-laceration. And even their lusts are self-laceration.
They have not yet become men, those terrible ones: may they preach renunciation of life, and pass away themselves!
There are the spiritually consumptive ones: hardly are they born when they begin to die, and long for doctrines of weariness and renunciation.
They would rather be dead, and we should welcome their wish! Let us beware of awakening those dead ones, and of damaging those living coffins!
They meet an invalid, or an old man, or a corpse- and immediately they say: «Life is refuted!»
But only they are refuted, and their eye, which sees only one facet of existence.
Shrouded in thick melancholy, and eager for the little casualties that bring death: thus do they wait, and clench their teeth.
Or else, they grasp at sweetmeats while mocking their childishness: they cling to their straw of life, and mock at their clinging.
Their wisdom speaks thus: «He who remains alive is a fool; but we are all such fools! And that is the most foolish thing in life!»
«Life is only suffering»: say others, and do not lie. Then see to it that you cease! See to it that the life which is only suffering ceases!
And let this be the teaching of your virtue: «Thou shalt kill thyself! thou shalt steal away from thy life!»-

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«Lust is sin,»- so say some who preach death- «let us go apart and beget no children!»
«Giving birth is troublesome,»- say others- «why still give birth? One bears only unfortunates!» And they also are preachers of death.
«Pity is necessary,»- so says a third party. «Take what I have! Take what I am! So much less does life bind me!»
If they were overflowing with pity, they would make their neighbors sick of life. To be evil- that would be their true goodness.
But they want to be rid of life; what do they care if they bind others tighter with their chains and gifts!-
And you also, to whom life is unending work and dissatisfaction, are you not very tired of life? Are you not very ripe for the sermon of death?
All you to whom unending work is dear, and all that is quick, new, and strange- you endure yourselves badly; your diligence is escape, and the will to forget yourself.
If you believed more in life, then would you fling yourselves less to the moment. But you do not have enough capacity for waiting- or even for idling!
Everywhere resounds the voices of those who preach death; and the earth is full of those to whom death must be preached.
Or «life eternal»; it is all the same to me- if only they pass away quickly!-
Thus spoke Zarathustra.

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Chapter 10 War and Warriors

WE DO not want to be spared by our best enemies, nor by those whom we love from the very heart. So let me tell you the truth!
My brothers in war! I love you from the very heart. I am, and was al-ways, your counterpart. And I am also your best enemy. So let me tell you the truth!
I know the hatred and envy of your hearts. You are not great enough not to know hatred and envy. Then be great enough not to be ashamed of them!
And if you cannot be saints of knowledge, then, I pray you, be at least its warriors. They are the companions and precursors of such saints.
I see many soldiers; If only I saw many warriors! «Uniform» one calls what they wear; if only what it covers were not uniform!
You shall be those whose eyes always seek for an enemy- for your en-emy. And some of you hate at first sight.
You shall seek your enemy; you shall wage your war- for