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About the hour of noontide, however, when the sun stood exactly over Zarathustra's head, he passed an old, bent and gnarled tree, which was encircled round by the ardent love of a vine, and hidden from itself; from this there hung yellow grapes in abundance, confronting the wanderer. Then he felt inclined to quench a little thirst, and to break off for himself a cluster of grapes.
They will say as much of the great moral maxims, of Zarathustra's "In doubt if an action be just, abstain..."; of Confucius' "Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses." The negro with the round eyes and flat nose, who will not give the name of "beauties" to the ladies of our courts, will without hesitation give it to these actions and these maxims.
And even if Zarathustra's word WERE a hundred times justified, thou wouldst ever DO wrong with my word! Thus spake Zarathustra. Then did he look on the great city and sighed, and was long silent. At last he spake thus: I loathe also this great city, and not only this fool. Here and there there is nothing to better, nothing to worsen. Woe to this great city!
The Gathas, taken alone, tell us hardly anything of the religion in which Zarathustra's fellow-countrymen believed. They believed undoubtedly in many gods; in those parts of the Avesta which come next to the hymns in time, polytheism is in full force.
"Go not away!" said then the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra's shadow, "abide with us otherwise the old gloomy affliction might again fall upon us. Now hath that old magician given us of his worst for our good, and lo! the good, pious pope there hath tears in his eyes, and hath quite embarked again upon the sea of melancholy.
Up thither is the way to Zarathustra's cave: it is not far, wilt thou not attend to thy wounds at my home? It hath gone badly with thee, thou unfortunate one, in this life: first a beast bit thee, and then a man trod upon thee!" When however the trodden one had heard the name of Zarathustra he was transformed.
But the disciple whom he loved most arose quickly, seized Zarathustra's hand, and said: "Thy life itself interpreteth unto us this dream, O Zarathustra! Art thou not thyself the wind with shrill whistling, which bursteth open the gates of the fortress of Death? Art thou not thyself the coffin full of many-hued malices and angel-caricatures of life?
Zarathustra's address to his guests shows clearly enough how he wished to help them: "I DO NOT TREAT MY WARRIORS INDULGENTLY," he says: "how then could ye be fit for MY warfare?" He rebukes and spurns them, no word of love comes from his lips. Elsewhere he says a man should be a hard bed to his friend, thus alone can he be of use to him. Nietzsche would be a hard bed to higher men.
Bless the cup that is about to overflow, that the water may flow golden out of it, and carry everywhere the reflection of thy bliss! Lo! This cup is again going to empty itself, and Zarathustra is again going to be a man. Thus began Zarathustra's down-going. Zarathustra went down the mountain alone, no one meeting him.
Thus spake the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra's shadow; and before any one answered him, he had seized the harp of the old magician, crossed his legs, and looked calmly and sagely around him: with his nostrils, however, he inhaled the air slowly and questioningly, like one who in new countries tasteth new foreign air. Afterward he began to sing with a kind of roaring. Ha! Solemnly!
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