On the Bestowing Virtue

1

When Zarathustra had taken leave of the town to which his heart was attached and whose name is “the Motley Cow,” many who called themselves his disciples followed him and escorted him. So they came to a crossroads: there Zarathustra told them that from now on he wanted to go alone; for he was a friend of going alone. But at parting his disciples handed him a staff, on whose golden handle a serpent coiled around the sun. Zarathustra was delighted with the staff and leaned on it; then he spoke thus to his disciples.

Tell me, then: how did gold come to have the highest value? Because it is uncommon and useless and shining and gentle in its luster; it always bestows itself.

Only as an image of the highest virtue did gold come to have the highest value. The glance of the one who bestows shines like gold. The luster of gold makes peace between moon and sun.

Uncommon is the highest virtue, and useless; it is shining and gentle in its luster: a bestowing virtue is the highest virtue.

Truly, I divine you well, my disciples: like me, you strive for the bestowing virtue. What would you have in common with cats and wolves?

This is your thirst, to become sacrifices and gifts yourselves: and that is why you have the thirst to heap up all riches in your soul.

Insatiably your soul strives for treasures and jewels, because your virtue is insatiable in wanting to give away.

You compel all things to you and into you, so that they may flow back out of your well as the gifts of your love.

Truly, such bestowing love must become a robber of all values; but whole and holy I call this selfishness.

There is another selfishness, an all-too-poor one, a hungry one that always wants to steal, that selfishness of the sick, the sick selfishness.

With the eye of the thief it looks at everything that shines; with the greed of hunger it measures the one who has plenty to eat; and it always creeps around the table of those who bestow.

Sickness speaks out of such craving, and invisible degeneration; the thievish greed of this selfishness speaks of an ailing body.

Tell me, my brothers: what do we consider bad and worst of all? Is it not degeneration?—And we always suspect degeneration where the bestowing soul is lacking.

Upward goes our way, from the species over to the over-species. But a horror to us is the degenerating sense that says: “Everything for me.”

Upward flies our sense: thus it is a parable of our body, a parable of an elevation. The names of the virtues are parables of such elevations.

Thus the body goes through history, one becoming and one fighting. And the spirit—what is it to the body? The herald of its battles and victories, their companion and echo.

All names of good and evil are parables: they do not speak out, they only hint. A fool, whoever wants knowledge from them!

Pay heed, my brothers, to every hour when your spirit wants to speak in parables: there is the origin of your virtue.

Then your body is elevated and risen from the dead; with its rapture it delights the spirit, so that it becomes creator and esteemer and lover and benefactor of all things.

When your heart surges broad and full like the river, a blessing and a danger to those who live along it: there is the origin of your virtue.

When you are exalted above praise and blame, and your will wants to command all things, as the will of one who loves: there is the origin of your virtue.

When you despise the comfortable and the soft bed, and cannot make your bed far enough from the soft: there is the origin of your virtue.

When you are those who will one will, and you call this turning of all need your necessity: there is the origin of your virtue.

Truly, it is a new good and evil! Truly, a new deep rushing and the voice of a new spring!

Power it is, this new virtue; a ruling thought it is, and around it a clever soul: a golden sun, and around it the serpent of knowledge.

2

Here Zarathustra fell silent for a while and looked with love at his disciples. Then he went on speaking thus:—and his voice had changed.

Remain faithful to the earth, my brothers, with the power of your virtue! Let your bestowing love and your knowledge serve the meaning of the earth! Thus I beg and implore you.

Do not let it fly away from earthly things and beat its wings against eternal walls! Ah, there has always been so much virtue that flew astray!

Lead the virtue that flew astray back to the earth, as I do—yes, back to body and life: so that it may give the earth its meaning, a human meaning!

A hundred times so far spirit as well as virtue has flown astray and blundered. Ah, all this delusion and blundering still dwells in our body now: there it has become body and will.

A hundred times so far spirit as well as virtue has experimented and gone astray. Yes, the human being was an experiment. Ah, much ignorance and error has become body in us!

Not only the reason of millennia—their madness too breaks out in us. It is dangerous to be an heir.

Still we fight step by step with the giant Chance, and over all humanity so far there has ruled nonsense, the meaningless.

Let your spirit and your virtue serve the meaning of the earth, my brothers: and let the value of all things be set anew by you! For that you shall be fighters! For that you shall be creators!

Knowing, the body purifies itself; experimenting with knowledge, it elevates itself; to the knower all drives become holy; to the elevated one the soul becomes glad.

Physician, help yourself: so you help your patient too. Let that be his best help, that he sees with his own eyes the one who makes himself whole.

There are a thousand paths that have never yet been walked; a thousand healths and hidden islands of life. Unexhausted and undiscovered is still the human being and the human earth.

Wake and listen, you solitary ones! From the future come winds with secret wingbeats; and to fine ears good tidings are sent.

You solitary ones of today, you who withdraw, you shall one day be a people: out of you who have chosen yourselves a chosen people shall grow:—and out of it the Übermensch.

Truly, the earth shall yet become a place of healing! And already a new scent lies about it, a scent that brings salvation,—and a new hope!

3

When Zarathustra had said these words, he fell silent, like one who has not said his last word; for a long time he weighed the staff doubtfully in his hand. At last he spoke thus:—and his voice had changed.

Alone I go now, my disciples! You too go away now, and alone! So I will it.

Truly, I counsel you: go away from me and guard yourselves against Zarathustra! And better still: be ashamed of him! Perhaps he deceived you.

The human being of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.

One repays a teacher badly if one always remains only a pupil. And why do you not want to pluck at my wreath?

You revere me; but what if one day your reverence topples over? Beware that a statue does not strike you dead!

You say you believe in Zarathustra? But what does Zarathustra matter! You are my believers: but what do any believers matter!

You had not yet sought yourselves: then you found me. So do all believers; that is why all faith amounts to so little.

Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will I return to you.

Truly, with other eyes, my brothers, I shall then seek my lost ones; with another love I shall then love you.

And one day you shall have become my friends and children of one hope: then I will be with you a third time, so that I may celebrate the great noon with you.

And this is the great noon, when the human being stands at the midpoint of his course between animal and Übermensch and celebrates his way to evening as his highest hope: for it is the way to a new morning.

Then the one who goes under will bless himself for being one who crosses over; and the sun of his knowledge will stand at noon for him.

“Dead are all gods: now we want the Übermensch to live.”—let this be our last will one day at the great noon!—

Thus spoke Zarathustra.