3/8 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV
But at last he grew old and soft and mellow and full of pity, more like a grandfather than a father, but most like a shaky, old grandmother.
There he sat, withered, at his fireside, grieved be- cause of his weak legs, weary of the world, weary of will, and one day suffocated by his all-too-great pity."
"Thou old pope," said Zarathustra interrupting, " hast thou seen that with thine own eyes ? It might have come to pass like that ; like that, and otherwise as well. When Gods die, they always die divers kinds of death.
But up! This way or that, this way and that; he is gone ! He was contrary unto the taste of mine ears and eyes. Worse I should not like to say of him.
I love everything that gazeth brightly and speak- eth honestly. But he thou knowest well, thou old priest, there was something of thy tribe in him, of the priestly tribe. He had many meanings.
Besides, he was indistinct. How angry he was with us, this out-breather of wrath, because he thought we understood him ill. But why did he not speak more cleanly ?
And if the fault was of our ears, why did he give us ears that heard badly ? And if there was mud in our ears, go to ! who had put it there ?
In too many things he failed, this potter who had not served his apprenticeship ! But in taking revenge
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