FOURTH AND LAST PART.
68. LXVIII. THE VOLUNTARY BEGGAR. (continued)
And verily, although a man should gain the whole world, and yet not learn
one thing, ruminating, what would it profit him! He would not be rid of
his affliction,
--His great affliction: that, however, is at present called DISGUST. Who
hath not at present his heart, his mouth and his eyes full of disgust?
Thou also! Thou also! But behold these kine!"--
Thus spake the Preacher-on-the-Mount, and turned then his own look towards
Zarathustra--for hitherto it had rested lovingly on the kine--: then,
however, he put on a different expression. "Who is this with whom I talk?"
he exclaimed frightened, and sprang up from the ground.
"This is the man without disgust, this is Zarathustra himself, the
surmounter of the great disgust, this is the eye, this is the mouth, this
is the heart of Zarathustra himself."
And whilst he thus spake he kissed with o'erflowing eyes the hands of him
with whom he spake, and behaved altogether like one to whom a precious gift
and jewel hath fallen unawares from heaven. The kine, however, gazed at it
all and wondered.
"Speak not of me, thou strange one; thou amiable one!" said Zarathustra,
and restrained his affection, "speak to me firstly of thyself! Art thou
not the voluntary beggar who once cast away great riches,--
--Who was ashamed of his riches and of the rich, and fled to the poorest to
bestow upon them his abundance and his heart? But they received him not."
"But they received me not," said the voluntary beggar, "thou knowest it,
forsooth. So I went at last to the animals and to those kine."
"Then learnedst thou," interrupted Zarathustra, "how much harder it is to
give properly than to take properly, and that bestowing well is an ART--the
last, subtlest master-art of kindness."
"Especially nowadays," answered the voluntary beggar: "at present, that is
to say, when everything low hath become rebellious and exclusive and
haughty in its manner--in the manner of the populace.
|