X. WAR AND WARRIORS.

Flee, my friend, into thy solitude! I see thee deafened with the noise of the great men, and stung all over with the stings of the little ones.

Admirably do forest and rock know how to be silent with thee. Resemble again the tree which thou lovest, the broad-branched one—silently and attentively it o’erhangeth the sea. I am, and was ever, your counterpart. And I am also your best enemy. So let me tell you the truth!

Where solitude endeth, there beginneth the market-place; and where the market-place beginneth, there beginneth also the noise of the great actors, and the buzzing of the poison-flies. Ye are not great enough not to know of hatred and envy. Then be great enough not to be ashamed of them!

In the world even the best things are worthless without those who represent them: those representers, the people call great men. They are the companions and forerunners of such saintship.

Little do the people understand what is great—that is to say, the creating agency.

Around the devisers of new values revolveth the world:—invisibly it revolveth. But around the actors revolve the people and the glory: such is the course of things.

Spirit, hath the actor, but little conscience of the spirit. He believeth always in that wherewith he maketh believe most strongly—in HIMSELF!

To-morrow he hath a new belief, and the day after, one still newer.

To upset—that meaneth with him to prove. To drive mad—that meaneth with him to convince. And blood is counted by him as the best of all arguments.

A truth which only glideth into fine ears, he calleth falsehood and trumpery. Verily, he believeth only in Gods that make a great noise in the world!

Full of clattering buffoons is the market-place,—and the people glory in their great men! These are for them the masters of the hour.

But the hour presseth them; so they press thee. And also from thee they want Yea or Nay.

On account of those absolute and impatient ones, be not jealous, thou lover of truth! Never yet did truth cling to the arm of an absolute one. Let the little girls say: “To be good is what is pretty, and at the same time touching.”

On account of those abrupt ones, return into thy security: only in the market-place is one assailed by Yea? or Nay? Ye are ashamed of your flow, and others are ashamed of their ebb.

Slow is the experience of all deep fountains: long have they to wait until they know WHAT hath fallen into their depths. Well then, my brethren, take the sublime about you, the mantle of the ugly!

Away from the market-place and from fame taketh place all that is great: away from the market-place and from fame have ever dwelt the devisers of new values. I know you.

Flee, my friend, into thy solitude: I see thee stung all over by the poisonous flies. Flee thither, where a rough, strong breeze bloweth! I know you.

Flee into thy solitude! Thou hast lived too closely to the small and the pitiable.

Raise no longer an arm against them! Innumerable are they, and it is not thy lot to be a fly-flap. Let your commanding itself be obeying!

Innumerable are the small and pitiable ones; and of many a proud structure, rain-drops and weeds have been the ruin.

Thou art not stone; but already hast thou become hollow by the numerous drops.

Exhausted I see thee, by poisonous flies; bleeding I see thee, and torn at a hundred spots; and thy pride will not even upbraid.

Blood they would have from thee in all innocence; blood their bloodless souls crave for—and they sting, therefore, in all innocence. What matter about long life! What warrior wisheth to be spared!

But thou, profound one, thou sufferest too profoundly even from small wounds; and ere thou hadst recovered, the same poison-worm crawled over thy hand.

Thus spake Zarathustra.