XXXII. THE DANCE-SONG.
“Will to Truth” do ye call it, ye wisest ones, that which impelleth you and maketh you ardent? As soon as the maidens recognised Zarathustra, they ceased dancing; Zarathustra, however, approached them with friendly mien and spake these words:
Will for the thinkableness of all being: thus do I call your will! No game-spoiler hath come to you with evil eye, no enemy of maidens.
All being would ye MAKE thinkable: for ye doubt with good reason whether it be already thinkable. How could I, ye light-footed ones, be hostile to divine dances? Or to maidens’ feet with fine ankles?
But it shall accommodate and bend itself to you!
That is your entire will, ye wisest ones, as a Will to Power; and even when ye speak of good and evil, and of estimates of value.
Ye would still create a world before which ye can bow the knee: such is your ultimate hope and ecstasy. Had he perhaps chased butterflies too much?
The ignorant, to be sure, the people—they are like a river on which a boat floateth along: and in the boat sit the estimates of value, solemn and disguised. He will cry, certainly, and weep—but he is laughable even when weeping!
Your will and your valuations have ye put on the river of becoming; it betrayeth unto me an old Will to Power, what is believed by the people as good and evil.
It was ye, ye wisest ones, who put such guests in this boat, and gave them pomp and proud names—ye and your ruling Will!
Onward the river now carrieth your boat: it MUST carry it.
It is not the river that is your danger and the end of your good and evil, ye wisest ones: but that Will itself, the Will to Power—the unexhausted, procreating life-will. And into the unfathomable did I there seem to sink.
But that ye may understand my gospel of good and evil, for that purpose will I tell you my gospel of life, and of the nature of all living things.
The living thing did I follow; I walked in the broadest and narrowest paths to learn its nature.
With a hundred-faced mirror did I catch its glance when its mouth was shut, so that its eye might speak unto me.
But wherever I found living things, there heard I also the language of obedience.
And this heard I secondly: Whatever cannot obey itself, is commanded.
This, however, is the third thing which I heard—namely, that commanding is more difficult than obeying.
An attempt and a risk seemed all commanding unto me; and whenever it commandeth, the living thing risketh itself thereby.
Yea, even when it commandeth itself, then also must it atone for its commanding.
How doth this happen! so did I ask myself. What persuadeth the living thing to obey, and command, and even be obedient in commanding?
Hearken now unto my word, ye wisest ones!
Wherever I found a living thing, there found I Will to Power; and even in the will of the servant found I the will to be master.
That to the stronger the weaker shall serve—thereto persuadeth he his will who would be master over a still weaker one. That delight alone he is unwilling to forego.
And as the lesser surrendereth himself to the greater that he may have delight and power over the least of all, so doth even the greatest surrender himself, and staketh—life, for the sake of power.
It is the surrender of the greatest to run risk and danger, and play dice for death. What do I know! But the oldest carps are still lured by her.
And where there is sacrifice and service and love-glances, there also is the will to be master.
And this secret spake Life herself unto me. “Behold,” said she, “I am that WHICH MUST EVER SURPASS ITSELF.
To be sure, ye call it will to procreation, or impulse towards a goal, towards the higher, remoter, more manifold: but all that is one and the same secret.
Rather would I succumb than disown this one thing; and verily, where there is succumbing and leaf-falling, lo, there doth Life sacrifice itself—for power! But now, pray, speak also of thy Wisdom!”
That I have to be struggle, and becoming, and purpose, and cross-purpose—ah, he who divineth my will, divineth well also on what CROOKED paths it hath to tread! And into the unfathomable have I again seemed to sink.—
Whatever I create, and however much I love it,—soon must I be adverse to it, and to my love: so willeth my will. But when the dance was over and the maidens had departed, he became sad.
And even thou, discerning one, art only a path and footstep of my will: verily, my Will to Power walketh even on the feet of thy Will to Truth!
He certainly did not hit the truth who shot at it the formula: ‘Will to existence’: that will—doth not exist! What! Thou livest still, Zarathustra?
For what is not, cannot will; that, however, which is in existence—how could it still strive for existence! Wherefore? Whereby? Whither? Where? How? Is it not folly still to live?—
Only where there is life, is there also will: not, however, Will to Life, but—so teach I thee—Will to Power! Forgive me my sadness!
Much is reckoned higher than life itself by the living one; but out of the very reckoning speaketh—the Will to Power!”—
Thus did Life once teach me: and thereby, ye wisest ones, do I solve you the riddle of your hearts.
