has perhaps proved itself the best
dogma in the world simply because it rendered possible to the horde
of mortal, weak, and oppressed individuals of every kind, that most
sublime specimen of self-deception, the interpretation of weakness as
freedom, of being this, or being that, as _merit_.
Will any one look a little into--right into--the mystery of how _ideals
are manufactured_ in this world? Who has the courage to do it? Come!
Here we have a vista opened into these grimy workshops. Wait just a
moment, dear Mr. Inquisitive and Foolhardy; your eye must first grow
accustomed to this false changing light--Yes! Enough! Now speak! What
is happening below down yonder? Speak out that what you see, man of the
most dangerous curiosity--for now _I_ am the listener.
"I see nothing, I hear the more. It is a cautious, spiteful, gentle
whispering and muttering together in all the corners and crannies. It
seems to me that they are lying; a sugary softness adheres to every
sound. Weakness is turned to _merit_, there is no doubt about it--it is
just as you say."
"And the impotence which requites not, is turned to 'goodness,' craven
baseness to meekness, submission to those whom one hates, to obedience
(namely, obedience to one of whom they say that he ordered this
submission--they call him God). The inoffensive character of the weak,
the very cowardice in which he is rich, his standing at the door, his
forced necessity of waiting, gain here fine names, such as 'patience,'
which is also called 'virtue'; not being able to avenge one's self, is
called not wishing to avenge one's self, perhaps even forgiveness (for
_they_ know not what they do--we alone know what _they_ do). They also
talk of the 'love of their enemies' and sweat thereby."
"They are miserable, there is no doubt about it, all these whisperers
and counterfeiters in the corners, although they try to get warm by
crouching close to each other, but they tell me that their misery is
a favour and distinction given to them by God, just as one beats the
dogs one likes best; that perhaps this misery is also a preparation, a
probation, a training; that perhaps it is still more something which
will one day be compensated and paid back with a tremendous interest in
gold, nay in happiness. This they call 'Blessedness.'"
"They are now giving me to understand, that not only are they better
men than the mighty, the lords of the earth, whose spittle they have
got to lick (not out of fear, not at all out of fear! But because
God ordains that
Minä valani vannoin kun yöhyt ylläni synkkänä uhkas, kun tähdet ei välkkyneet kannella taivaan, vihan salamat viilsi vain pimeätä pintaa, min alla purjehti pilvet.Page 1
Väki roskainen voittanut? Ei, kolmasti ei! Oli liiaksi kova se timantti, min pintahan tuhoterän iski voimaton viha, voittaen timanteista säihkyvin murtui.Page 2
On sankari sortunut, joukkonsa toivo pettynyt tuonelle uhrasi urhon ylpeän, suuren, on sankari sortunut, ikuinen Rooma vapaana jälleen, ja pauhaten kaikuu kaduilta, toreilta rahvahan riemu.Page 3
ÖISELLÄ CAPITOLIUMILLA.Page 4
Arpa langennut on, tulenlieskoina lentää sankarin säihkyvät, kultaiset kotkat seudusta seutuun ja päätyvät Roomaan, min marmoriportit salpansa valtiaan käskystä avaa.Page 5
Hän vuorilla viipyy ja vaieten katsoo tanhua, riemua joukkion joudon.Page 6
FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHEN RUNOJA ECCE HOMO.