Why, said the saint, did I go into the forest and the desert? Was it not because I loved men far too well?

Now I love God: men I do not love. Man is a thing too imperfect for me. Love to man would be fatal to me.

Zarathustra answered: What spake I of love! I am bringing gifts unto men.

Give them nothing, said the saint. Take rather part of their load, and carry it along with them — that will be most agreeable unto them: if only it be agreeable unto thee!

If, however, thou wilt give unto them, give them no more than an alms, and let them also beg for it!

No, replied Zarathustra, I give no alms. I am not poor enough for that.

The saint laughed at Zarathustra, and spake thus: Then see to it that they accept thy treasures! They are distrustful of anchorites, and do not believe that we come with gifts.

The fall of our footsteps ringeth too hollow through their streets. And just as at night, when they are in bed and hear a man abroad long before sunrise, so they ask themselves concerning us: Where goeth the thief?

Go not to men, but stay in the forest! Go rather to the animals! Why not be like me — a bear amongst bears, a bird amongst birds?

And what doth the saint in the forest? asked Zarathustra.

The saint answered: I make hymns and sing them; and in making hymns I laugh and weep and mumble: thus do I praise God.

With singing, weeping, laughing and mumbling do I praise the God who is my God. But what dost thou bring us as a gift?

When Zarathustra had heard these words, he bowed to the saint and said: What should I have to give thee! Let me rather hurry hence lest I take aught away from thee! And thus they parted from one another, the old man and Zarathustra, laughing like schoolboys.

When Zarathustra was alone, however, he said to his heart: Could it be possible! This old saint in the forest hath not yet heard of it, that God is dead!

3

When Zarathustra arrived at the nearest town which adjoineth the forest, he found many people assembled in the market-place, for it had been announced that a rope-dancer would give a performance. And Zarathustra spake thus unto the people:

I teach you the Superman. Man is something that is to be surpassed. What have ye done to surpass man?

All beings hitherto have created something beyond themselves: and ye want to be the ebb of that great tide, and would rather go back to the beast than surpass man?

What is the ape to man? A laughing-stock, a thing of shame. And just the same shall man be to the Superman: a laughing-stock, a thing of shame.

Ye have made your way from the worm to man, and much within you is still worm. Once were ye apes, and even yet man is more of an ape than any of the apes.