The conscientious in spirit (the leech-man)

When however the trodden one had heard the name of Zarathustra he was transformed. “What happeneth unto me!” he exclaimed, “WHO preoccupieth me so much in this life as this one man, namely Zarathustra, and that one…

Hearing the name Zarathustra, the man is transformed. He had lain in the swamp as bait for leeches, and now praises Zarathustra as the finest leech, the 'great conscience-leech'. Zarathustra is pleased and asks who he is.

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!

He calls himself the spiritually conscientious one and says he learned his rigour from Zarathustra. He wants only firm basis, however small, and sees nothing great or small in true knowing.

Because THOU once saidest, O Zarathustra: ‘Spirit is life which itself cutteth into life’;—that led and allured me to thy doctrine.

He claims mastery of one small world, the brain of the leech, and is proud of it. He casts everything else aside, hates the hazy and visionary, and wants to be severe and honest where he knows and blind where he does not.

—“As the evidence indicateth,” 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 thou strange fellow, how much doth this…

Ten leeches are seen on his bleeding arm, which Zarathustra takes as evidence of the man's devotion. He invites him to the cave as a guest and promises amends for the trampling. A cry of distress calls Zarathustra away.

It was late in the afternoon only when Zarathustra, after long useless searching and strolling about, again came home to his cave. When, however, he stood over against it, not more than twenty paces therefrom, the thing…

Returning home, Zarathustra hears the cry of distress again, this time from his own cave. He finds all the men he met that day sitting there, and greets them with courteous curiosity.

Thus sang the magician; and all who were present went like birds unawares into the net of his artful and melancholy voluptuousness. Only the spiritually conscientious one had not been caught: he at once snatched the…

After the magician's song, the conscientious one snatches the harp and calls for fresh air and for Zarathustra. He accuses the magician of tempting free spirits back into prison. The magician answers that the man has understood little of the song.

“Thou praisest me,” replied the conscientious one, “in that thou separatest me from thyself; very well! But, ye others, what do I see? Ye still sit there, all of you, with lusting eyes—: Ye free spirits, whither hath…

He says the free spirits' souls dance like those of men watching naked dancers. He seeks security, while they seem to crave horror, danger and the life of wild beasts. He judges that longing actually impossible.

For fear—that is man’s original and fundamental feeling; through fear everything is explained, original sin and original virtue.

He claims fear of wild animals, and of the beast within, is man's oldest feeling. Grown spiritual, it is what is now called science.

Courage, however, and adventure, and delight in the uncertain, in the unattempted—COURAGE seemeth to me the entire primitive history of man.

Zarathustra returns, laughs, throws roses and calls the conscientious one's truth a folly. He says fear is the exception and courage the whole primitive history of man. That courage, grown spiritual, with eagle's pinions and serpent's wisdom, is what is now called Zarathustra.

All on a sudden however, Zarathustra’s ear was frightened: for the cave which had hitherto been full of noise and laughter, became all at once still as death;—his nose, however, smelt a sweet-scented vapour and…

The cave falls silent and fills with incense. Zarathustra looks in and finds all the higher men kneeling and praying to the ass, and the ugliest man begins a litany.

—“And thou,” said Zarathustra, “thou bad old magician, what didst thou do! Who ought to believe any longer in thee in this free age, when THOU believest in such divine donkeyism? It was a stupid thing that thou didst;…

Zarathustra scolds the magician, who concedes it was stupid and repugnant to him. The spiritually conscientious one says the spectacle does his conscience good and warns that Zarathustra himself could become an ass through superabundance of wisdom.