THE LEECH
THE LEECH
AND ZARATHUSTRA WENT THOUGHTFULLY On, further and deeper, through forests and past swampy valleys; but as happens with those who meditate on hard matters he accidentally stepped on a man. And behold, suddenly a cry of pain and two curses and twenty little invectives splashed into his face so that in his fright he raised his stick and also struck the man he had stepped on. Immediately afterwards, however, he regained his composure; and his heart laughed at the folly he had just committed.
“Forgive me,” he said to the man he had stepped on, who had got up enraged and sat down again, “forgive 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 stare up and snap at each other, like deadly enemies, these two mortally frightened beings-so did it happen to us.
“And yet! And yet—how little was lacking for them to caress each other, that dog and that solitary! Are they not both—solitaries!”
—“Whoever you are,” said the trodden one, still enraged, “you come too near me with your parable, and not only with your foot!
“Behold, am I then a dog?”—And at that 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 a swamp animal.
“But what are you doing!” cried Zarathustra in alarm, for he saw 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 do you care!” he said, and was about to go on. “Here am I at home and in my province. Whoever will question me, let him: but I will not reply to a moron.”
“You are mistaken,” said Zarathustra sympathetically, and held him fast; “you are mistaken. Here you are not at home, but in my domain, and here no one shall receive any harm.
“But call me what you will—I am who I must be. I call myself Zarathustra.
“Well! Up there is the way to Zarathustra’s cave: it is not far,won’ t you tend 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!”—
But when the trodden one had heard the name of Zarathustra, he changed. “What has happened to me!” he exclaimed, “who concerns me so much in this life as this one man, Zarathustra, and that one animal that lives on blood, the leech?
“For the sake of the leech I have lain here by this swamp, like a fisher, and already my outstretched arm had been bitten ten times, when now a finer leech bites at my blood, Zarathustra himself!
“O happiness! 0 miracle! Praised be the day that enticed me into the swamp! Praised be the best, the liveliest cupper living today, praised be the great leech of conscience, Zarathustra!”—
Thus spoke the man Zarathustra had stepped on, and Zarathustra rejoiced at his words and their refined, respectful style. “Who are you?” he asked and gave him his hand, “there is much to clear up and elucidate between us: but already, it seems to me, the day dawns pure and bright.”
“I am the conscientious in spirit,” answered he who was asked, “and in matters of the spirit it is difficult for any one to take it more rigorously, more strictly, and more severely than I, except him from whom I learned it, Zarathustra himself.
“Better to know nothing than to half-know many things! Better to be a fool on one’s own account, than a sage in other people’s estimation! I—get to the bottom:
—“what does it matter if it is great or small? If it is called swamp or sky? A hand’s breadth of ground is enough for me, if it really is ground and bottom!
-A hand’s breadth of ground: one can stand on that. In the conscience of knowledge there is nothing great and nothing small.”
“So perhaps you are an expert on leeches?” asked Zarathustra; “and you investigate the leech to its ultimate grounds, you conscientious one?”
“0 Zarathustra,” answered the trodden man, “that would be an immensity, how could I presume to do so!
“But what I am master of and expert on is the brain of the leech:-that is my world!
“And it is also a world! But forgive me that my pride speaks out here, for here I do not have my equal. Therefore I said: here I am 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 I cast everything else aside, for the sake of this everything else becomes indifferent to me; and close beside my knowledge lies my black ignorance.
“My spiritual conscience requires of me that it should be so, that I should know one thing and not know everything else: I am disgusted by all the half-spirited, all the hazy, hovering, and visionary.
“Where my honesty ends I am blind, and also want to be blind. But where I want to know I also want to be honest, namely, hard, rigorous, strict, cruel, inexorable.
“Because you once said, O Zarathustra: ‘Spirit is life that itself cuts into life,’ that led and seduced me to your teaching. And truly, with my own blood I have increased my own knowledge!”
—“As the evidence indicates,” broke in Zarathustra; for the blood was still flowing down the naked arm of the conscientious one. For ten leeches had bitten into it.
“O you strange fellow, how much this evidence tells me, namely from you yourself! And perhaps I could not pour all of it into your strict ears!
“Well then! We part here! But I would like to meet you again. Up there is the way to my cave: tonight you will be my welcome guest!
“I would also like to make amends to your body for Zarathustra treading upon you with his feet: I shall think about that. Just now, however, a cry of distress calls me hastily away from you.”
Thus spoke Zarathustra.