Chapter 94 Tribute to part three

It was late when Zarathustra returned to his cave after his vain search and wandering.When he was about twenty paces from his cave, the unexpected happened again: he heard again the loud cry for help.Ah, wonderful!This time the cry came from his cave.It was a peculiar cry, long and complex, and Zarathustra distinctly heard the combination of many voices; though at a distance it seemed to come from one man's mouth. So Zarathustra ran straight to his cave, but behold!What a performance awaited him after that prelude!For all the people he met in the day gathered and sat there: the king on the left, and the king on the right, the old magician, the priest, the willing beggar, the shadow, the wise man, the mournful seer, and the donkey; the ugliest Man wore a crown and two purple sash--for he, like all ugly people, loved to adorn himself, and to be pretty.In the midst stood the eagle of Zarathustra, irritated and troubled, because they asked him too many questions, which his pride would not answer; and the serpent of wisdom was still wound around his neck.

All this Zarathustra saw with great astonishment; and with polite curiosity he examined each of the guests in turn, and talked of their souls, and wondered anew.Simultaneously these assembled persons rose from their seats, reverently expecting Zarathustra to speak.But thus says Zarathustra: "You hopeless people! You strange people! Is it your cry for help that I hear? Now I know where to find him, and the one I haven't found this day: the Master! An expert is sitting in my cave!Why should I be surprised!Did I not lure them to me with the gift of my honey and the call of my happiness?

But it seems to me like you're all discordant couples, when you get together here, you cry for help, you trouble each other's hearts.One must come first— He who makes you laugh again, a merry buffoon, a dancer, a gust of wind, a naughty girl, an old fool;—but what do you think? Forgive me, you hopeless ones, for speaking such unworthy commonplace words in the presence of such guests!But you don't know what cheers me up! That's you and what's special about you: every one becomes brave because he sees the hopeless!Encourage a Desperate Man—Everyone thinks he has enough strength!

You have given me this power—a good gift, my guests!The gift of a righteous guest, well, don't scold me when I present you my gift too. This is my kingdom and my domain; all that are mine are yours tonight.My animals will serve you; my cave is your dwelling! Those who live with me should not despair; within my borders I keep all from the dangers of wild beasts.This is my first gift to you: Safety! The second gift is my little finger.When you have it, you have the whole hand, yes, and the whole heart!Welcome, welcome, my guests! " Thus spoke Zarathustra, and laughed with love and pain.His guests, after such salutations, bowed again and again, and were reverently silent; but the king on the left answered him in their name:

"O Zarathustra, you thus give us your hand, your salutation, we know you as Zarathustra. You humbled yourself before us; you almost wounded us for you respected by: Who can so haughtily humble oneself as thou art: that exalts us, that refreshes our minds. As long as we see this, we wish to happily ascend to a mountain higher than this.We are the more ardent seekers; we shall see what brightens our dull eyes. But behold!Now all our cries for help are over.Now our hearts are calm and joyful.We have no lack of bravery to make our hearts unbridled! O Zarathustra, what grows on the earth gives more joy than a tall and strong will: it is the fairest of plants.Such a tree changes the whole landscape.

O Zarathustra, who grows like you, we compare him to a fir-pine--solitary, quiet, hard and regular, the best and most useful wood! —But on the treetops, with strong green branches, stretching out their domains, asking questions about the strong wind, about the storm, about all the highest places. —and answered more resolutely, a conqueror, a victor: O!Who doesn't often ascend to the high mountains to see such woods: O Zarathustra, the mourner, and the despairing, rejoice at thy tree: even the restless seeth thou firmed, and healeth his heart. Verily, now all eyes are upon your mountains and your trees; a great longing has arisen, and many have learned to ask: Is it Zarathustra?

Those whose ears you have always heard with your songs and drops of honey, all the hermits, the hermits and hermites, say in their hearts at the same time: 'Is Zarathustra alive?It is not worth living now, all is the same, all is vanity, unless we are with Zarathustra! ' 'Why hasn't he come after so long? ' so many asked; did solitude swallow him up?Or should we seek him? My now lonely self is ripe and cracked as a grave cracks and can no longer hide the body in the grave.Resurrected people can be seen everywhere. O Zarathustra, now are the waves round and round your mountain.However high you may be, many will come to you; and your little boats will not stay long on dry land.

We despairing ones have now come to your cave, and despair no more: that is a herald and a good omen that stronger ones are coming to seek you! For they are on the way, among men, the last remnants of the gods, that is to say, all those who desire, loathe, and satiate— All lives no longer, except those who learn hope again—unless they learn great hope from you, O Zarathustra! " Thus spoke the king on the left, and took Zarathustra's hand, intending to kiss him; but Zarathustra rejected his salute, and backed away in terror, and left abruptly as if fleeing, not a moment later When he came back, he looked at his guest again with clear and inquisitive eyes, and said:

"My guests, you superiors, I would like to speak frank German and speak frankly to you. You are not what I expect here on the hills." ("Frank German and speak frankly? Oh, merciful God!" said the king on the left here to himself; "that is clear, the saint from the East does not know the lovely Germans!" But he meant it in German and said bluntly—well, that's not the worst taste these days! ) "True, you may be tall men," continued Zarathustra, "but for me—you are not tall enough, neither are you strong. For me, that is to say, for the indomitable spirit in me, it is now silent, but not always silent.If you were all mine, it would be as good as one of my arms.

For a man who walks on weak and limp legs like you, whether he feels it or not, desires, above all, to be treated with appeasement. But I do not appease my arms and my legs, I do not appease my warriors: How can you be fit for my war? With you, I shall lose my chance of victory.If you had heard my drum beat, many of you would have fallen on the ground in terror. Also, for me, you are not beautiful enough, and you are not good enough.I need clear and smooth mirrors to reflect my teachings; in your faces even my own visage is distorted. Many burdens have been carried upon your shoulders, many memories; many ominous gnomes lurk in the corners of your caves.There are secret rascals in your hearts too.

Although you are tall people and a race of tall people, there are still many distortions and deformations in your hearts.There is not a blacksmith in the world who can hammer you straight and straight for Me. Ye are but bridges; over you a higher man crosses to the other side, and you stand like ladders: grieve not against him who ascends over you and attains his own height! One day a true son and a perfect heir will be born to me from your offspring: but that time is far off.You are not the heirs of my heritage and title. It is not you that I look forward to here on the mountains; nor with you can I make my last descent.Your coming to me is but a sign that higher ones are coming to me; Not the remnants of what you call gods, not the people who long for, loathe, and satiate; no!no!The third no!Here on the hills I wait for others, I would not lift my foot without them; I look forward to stronger people, more superior people, and happier people; I look forward to people who are physically and mentally healthy, and the laughing lions will surely come! O my guests, you strange ones, - have you heard anything about my children?Are they coming for me? Tell me about my garden, my island of happiness, my new and beautiful race—why won't you tell me about these? I beg this gift of guests from your love, and you tell me of my children.For this I am rich, for this I am poor: what have I not to give? For that, what would I not give: for these children, for these living plants, for the tree of life of my will and my highest hope! " Thus spake Zarathustra, and stopped suddenly: for his longing came, and with the convulsion of his heart he closed his eyes and his mouth.His guests were also silent and stood in a daze, only the old prophet was making gestures with his face and hands.