Is there anyone who would like to take a little look down on and under that secret how man fabricates an ideal on earth? Who has the courage for that? . . . Come on, now! Here's an open glimpse into this dark workshop. Just wait a moment, my dear Mr. Nosy and Presumptuous: your eye must first get used to this artificial flickering light. . . . So, enough! Now speak! What's going on down there? Speak up. Say what you see, man of the most dangerous curiosity—now I'm the one who's listening.—
—”I see nothing, but I hear all the more. It is a careful, crafty, light rumour-mongering and whispering from every nook and cranny. It seems to me that people are lying; a sugary mildness clings to every sound. Weakness is going to be falsified into something of merit. There's no doubt about it—things are just as you said they were.”
—Keep talking!
—”And powerlessness which does not retaliate is being falsified into ‘goodness,' anxious baseness into ‘humility,' submission before those one hates to ‘obedience' (of course, obedience to the one who, they say, commands this submission—they call him God). The inoffensiveness of the weak man—cowardice itself, in which he is rich, his standing at the door, his inevitable need to wait around—here acquires a good name, like ‘patience,' and is called virtue itself. That incapacity for revenge is called the lack of desire for revenge, perhaps even forgiveness (‘for they know not what they do—only we know what they do!'). And people are talking about ‘love for one's enemies'—and sweating as they say it.”
—Keep talking!
—”They are miserable—there's no doubt about that—all these rumour-mongers and counterfeiters in the corners, although crouched down beside each other in the warmth—but they are telling me that their misery is God's choice, His sign. One beats the dog one loves the most. Perhaps this misery may be a preparation, a test, an education, perhaps it is even more—something that will one day be rewarded and paid out with huge interest in gold, no, in happiness. They call that ‘blessedness'.”
—Go on!
—”Now they are letting me know that they are not only better than the powerful, the masters of the earth, whose spit they have to lick (not out of fear, certainly not out of fear, but because God commands that they honour all those in authority)—they are not only better than these, but they also are ‘better off,' or at any rate will one day have it better. But enough! Enough! I can't take it any more. Bad air! Bad air! This workshop where man fabricates ideals—it seems to me it stinks of nothing but lies.”
—No! Just one minute more! So far you haven't said anything about the masterpiece of these black magicians who make whiteness, milk, and innocence out of every blackness:—have you not noticed the perfection of their sophistication, their most daring, most refined, most spiritual, most fallacious artistic attempt? Pay attention! These cellar animals full of vengeance and hatred—what exactly are they making out of that vengeance and hatred? Have you ever heard these words? If you heard only their words, would you suspect that you were completely among men of ressentiment? . . .
—”I understand. Once again I'll open my ears (oh! oh! oh! and hold my nose). Now I'm hearing for the first time what they've been saying so often: ‘We good men—we are the righteous'—what they demand they don't call repayment but ‘the triumph of righteousness.' What they hate is not their enemy. No! They hate ‘injustice,' ‘godlessness.' What they believe and hope is not a hope for revenge, the intoxication of sweet vengeance (something Homer has already called ‘sweeter than honey'), but the victory of God, the righteous God, over the godless. What remains for them to love on earth is not their brothers in hatred but their ‘brothers in love,' as they say, all the good and righteous people on the earth.”
—And what do they call what serves them as a consolation for all the suffering of life—their phantasmagoria of future blessedness which they are expecting?
—”What's that? Am I hearing correctly? They call that ‘the last judgment,' the coming of their kingdom, the coming of ‘God's kingdom'— but in the meanwhile they live ‘in faith,' ‘in love,' ‘in hope.'”
—Enough! Enough!