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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..839ee32 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53620 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53620) diff --git a/old/53620-0.txt b/old/53620-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8f7d6dc..0000000 --- a/old/53620-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12291 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The life of Friedrich Nietzsche, by Daniel Halévy - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The life of Friedrich Nietzsche - -Author: Daniel Halévy - -Translator: J. M. Hone - -Release Date: November 28, 2016 [EBook #53620] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive. - - - - - -THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE - -BY - -DANIEL HALÉVY - -TRANSLATED BY J. M. MONE - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY - -T. M. KETTLE, M.P. - - -T. FISCHER UNWIN - -LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE -LEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20 - -1911 - - - - -CONTENTS - -INTRODUCTION - -CHAPTER I -CHILDHOOD - -CHAPTER II -YEARS OF YOUTH - -CHAPTER III -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER--TRIEBSCHEN - -CHAPTER IV -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER--BAYREUTH - -CHAPTER V -CRISIS AND CONVALESCENCE - -CHAPTER VI -THE LABOUR OF ZARATHUSTRA - -CHAPTER VII -THE FINAL SOLITUDE - -INDEX - - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -The duel between Nietzsche and civilisation is long since over; -and that high poet and calamitous philosopher is now to be judged -as he appears in the serene atmosphere of history, which--need it -be said?--he infinitely despised. The crowd, the common herd, the -multitude--which he also despised--has recorded its verdict with its -usual generosity to the dead, and that verdict happens to be an ample -revenge. It has dismissed Nietzsche's ideas in order to praise his -images. It has conceded him in literature a brilliant success, and -has treated his philosophy as fundamental nonsense of the sort that -calls for no response except a shrug of the shoulders. The immoralist -who sought to shatter all the Tables of all the Laws, and to achieve -a Transvaluation of all Values, ends by filling a page in _Die Ernte_ -and other Anthologies for the Young. And in certifying his style to -be that of a rare and real master the "crowd" has followed a true -instinct. More than Schopenhauer, more even than Goethe, Nietzsche is -accounted by the critics of his country to have taught German prose -to speak, as Falstaff says, like a man o' this world. The ungainly -sentences, many-jointed as a dragon's tail, became short, definite, -arrowy. "We must 'Mediterraneanise' German music," he wrote to Peter -Gast, and in fact he did indisputably "Mediterraneanise" the style of -German literature. That edged and glittering speech of his owed much to -his acknowledged masters, La Rochefoucauld, Voltaire, and Stendhal, -the lapidaries of French. But it was something very intimately his -own; he was abundantly dowered with the insight of malice, and malice -always writes briefly and well. It has not the time to be obscure. -Nietzsche had this perfection of utterance, but a far richer range and -volume. He was a poet by grace divine, and a true Romantic for all the -acid he dropped on Romanticism; the life of his soul was an incessant -creative surge of images, metaphors, symbolisms, mythologies. These two -tendencies produced as their natural issue that gnomic and aphoristic -tongue which sneers, preaches, prophesies, chants, intoxicates and -dances through the pages of _Also Sprach Zarathustra._ German critics -have applied to Nietzsche, and with even greater fitness, Heine's -characterisation of Schiller: "With him thought celebrates its orgies. -Abstract ideas, crowned with vine-leaves, brandish the thyrsus and -dance like bacchantes; they are drunken reflections." Of many aspects -of his own personality Nietzsche may have thought not wisely but too -well; but in this regard it appears that he did not exaggerate himself. -"After Luther and Goethe," he wrote to Rohde, "a third step remained -to be taken.... I have the idea that with _Zarathustra_ I have brought -the German language to its point of perfection." The German world of -letters has not said No! to a claim so proud as to seem mere vanity. -Friedrich Nietzsche holds a safe, and even a supreme position in the -history of literature. - -What is to be said of his place in the history of philosophy? Höffding -allows him a high "symptomatic value," but only that. His work has -the merit of a drama, in which the contradictions of modern thought, -vibrant with passion, clash and crash together in a tumultuous -conflict which, unhappily, has no issue. M. Alfred Fouillée, who has -contrasted him with Guyau--that noblest of "modern" thinkers--in his -book _Nietzsche et l'immoralisme,_ draws out a table of antitheses, -and cancelling denials against affirmations, arrives at a result that -looks remarkably like zero. Nietzsche in truth was a man of ecstasies -and intuitions, rather than of consequent thought. He troubled little -to purge himself of self-contradictions, as became a writer whose first -word had been a vehement assault on that Socratic rationalism which, -as he believed, had withered up the vital abundance of Greece. His -instincts were those of an oracle, a mystagogue; and mystagogues do -not argue. Heinrich von Stein, in styling his first book an _Essay in -Lyrical Philosophy,_ spoke in terms of his master's mind. - -With Nietzsche reason deliberately abdicates, bearing with it into -exile its categories of good and evil, cause and end. Schopenhauer -had suggested to him that the true key to the riddle of existence was -not intellect but will; behind the mask of phenomena the illuminated -spirit discerned not a Contriving but a Striving, a monstrous Will, -blind as old Œdipus, yearning like him through blood and anguish -to a possible redemption. But in time he cast off Schopenhauer and -pessimism. The Will to Live he "construed in an optimistic sense," and -it darkened into that other mystery, at once vaguer and more malign, -the Will to Power. The problem remained to find a ground for optimism, -and a clue to the harmony, to the recurring rhythms and patterns of -reality as we know it. So was born what is perhaps the characteristic -idea of Nietzsche. The universe is not a phenomenon of Will, it is a -phenomenon of Art. "In my preface to the book on Wagner I had already," -wrote Nietzsche in 1886, "presented art, and not morality, as the -essentially metaphysical activity of man: in the course of the present -book I reproduce in many forms the singular proposition that the world -is only to be justified as an artistic phenomenon." For the optimist -_quand-même_ this interpretation has many advantages. Cruelty, sorrow -and disaster need no longer dismay him; since a world may at the same -time be a very bad world and a very good tragedy. "It may be," the -lyricist, turned philosopher, wrote later, "that my _Zarathustra_ ought -to be classified under the rubric Music." These two passages, with a -hundred others, determine the atmosphere into which we are introduced. -We have to deal not with a thinker who expounds a system, but with a -prophet who dispenses a Revelation: Nietzsche is not the apologist but -the mystic of Neo-Paganism. - -Coming to closer range, we may dismiss at once a great part of his -polemical writings. They were a sort of perpetual bonfire in which -from time to time Nietzsche burned what he had once adored, and much -more beside. They bear witness to that proud independence, one may -almost say that savage isolation, which was the native climate of his -soul. _Niemandem war er Untertan,_ "he was no man's man," he wrote -of Schopenhauer, and that iron phrase expressed his own ideal and -practice. His brochures of abuse he regarded as a mode, though an -unhappy mode, of liberation. He had little love of them himself in his -creative moments: he desired with a fierce desire to rid his soul of -hatreds and negatives and rise to a golden affirmation. "I have been -a fighter," declares Zarathustra, "only that I might one day have my -hands free to bless." "In dying I would offer men the richest of my -gifts. It was from the sun I learned that, from the sun who when he -sets is so rich; out of his inexhaustible riches he flings gold into -the sea, so that the poorest fishermen row with golden oars." It is -not the Will to Power that speaks here, but that older and more sacred -fountain of civilisation, the Will to Love. But if Nietzsche had -that inspiration one is tempted to say of him what he said of Renan: -He is never so dangerous as when he loves. The truth is that he had -the genius of belittlement. It was the other side of his vanity, a -vanity so monstrous that it seems from the first to have eaten of the -insane root. There is no humour, no integral view of things, behind -his critical work. It is sick with subjectivity. And yet Zarathustra -in a temper is, by times, far more amusing than sinister. What could -be better than some of the characterisations in _A Psychologist's -Hedge-School,_ "Seneca, the Toreador of virtue ... Rousseau, or the -return to nature _in impuris naturalibus._ ... John Stuart Mill; or -wounding lucidity"? But when, in this mood, he gnaws and nibbles about -the sanctuaries of life; when he tells us that the true Fall of Man -was the Redemption, that the two most noxious corruptions known to -history are Christianity and alcohol; when he presses his anti-Feminism -to a point that goes beyond even the gross German tradition of which -Luther's _Table Talk_ is a monument, the best that one can do for him -is to remember that he often took too much chloral. It may be that -to the circles in these countries to whom the cult of Nietzscheanism -appeals, this strain of his thought also appeals. This particular -music is not played on many trumpets, but every Superman ought to know -it. And he ought to know further that Zarathustra, being brave, gibes -not only at St. Paul, but even at Herbert Spencer, and has no more -toleration for the gospel according to Marx than for that according to -Matthew. - -What is the gospel of this ambiguous prophet? It is, he himself -declares, a long "Memento vivere." His own experience taught him -that the characteristic of life, in its highest moments, is to -be unimaginably alive. From a mere process it becomes a sudden -intoxication, and on the psychology of that intoxication, which is the -psychology of the artist and also that of the lover and the saint, -he has written pages which are a wonder of pure light. From this -standpoint he criticises justly the mechanical theory of adjustments -in which there is nothing to adjust, of adaptations in which there -is nothing to adapt, the whole _ab extra_ interpretation of life -popularised by Darwin, Spencer, and the English school in general. The -living unit is more than a mere node or knot in a tangle of natural -selection; it is a fountain of force, of spontaneity, constantly -overflowing. "The general aspect of life is not indigence and famine, -but on the contrary richness, opulence, even an absurd prodigality." -To live is for Nietzsche, as for the Scholastics, to be a centre of -self-movement. With the Pragmatists he asserts the primacy of life over -thought. But this tension of consciousness, this Dionysiac drunkenness, -is only a foundation, it is not yet a philosophy. Philosophy, or at all -events moral philosophy, begins with the discovery that there are other -people in the world. Your ego, thus drunken and expansive, collides -sharply with another ego, equally drunken and expansive, and it becomes -at once necessary to frame a code of relations, a rule of the road. Is -this force and spontaneity of the individual to flow out towards others -through the channel of domination or through that of love? - -Zarathustra had marched with the Germans over prostrate France, he had -said in his Gargantuan egoism: "If there were Gods, how could I bear -not to be a God? _Consequently_ there are no Gods." If the Goths and -the Vandals had read Hegelian metaphysics, observes Fouillée, they -would have answered this question as Nietzsche answered it. The living -unit accumulates a superabundance of force in order to impose its power -on others ... _an andern Macht auslassen._ The Will to Power is the -sole source of human activity. The strong must live as warriors and -conquerors, adopting as their three cardinal virtues pride, pleasure, -and the love of domination. Pity is the deepest of corruptions; it but -doubles pain, adding to the pain of him who suffers the pain of him -who pities. If you have helped any one, you must wash the hands that -helped him, for they are unclean. The Crusaders brought home but one -treasure, the formula, namely, of the Assassins, "Nothing is true, -everything is permitted." Science is mere illusionism; but the warrior, -knowing how to be hard--for that is the new law--will impose his own -arbitrary values on all things, and will make life so good that he will -desire it to be indefinitely repeated. The earth, thus disciplined, -will bring forth the Superman, who, having danced out his day, will -disappear to be recreated by the Eternal Return. Thus spake Zarathustra. - -The greatest difficulty that one experiences before such a doctrine -as this is the difficulty of taking it seriously. Nietzsche, who had -a tendency to believe that every reminiscence was an inspiration, -is by no means as original as he thought. After all, there were -sceptics, optimists, tyrants and poets before Zarathustra. The "common -herd" may not be given to discussing ethical dualism, but it knows -that since society began there have been two laws, one for the rich -and another for the poor. Scepticism as to the objectivity of human -values, moral and intellectual, is no new heresy, but a tradition as -old as science, and almost as old as faith. The notion of an Eternal -Return, crystallised by Plato from a mist of earlier speculation, had -exercised many modern thinkers; one has only to name Heine, Blanqui, -von Naegeli, Guyau, Dostoievsky. The Romantics had, at the beginning -of Nietzsche's century, as Schlegel wrote, "transcended all the ends -of life," and, fascinated with the idea of mere power, had filled the -imagination of Europe with seas and storms that raged for the sole -sake of raging. There was no Scholastic compiler of a text-book on -Ethics but had "posed morality as a problem," and asked in his first -_quæstio_ whether there was a science of good and evil. The Superman -so passionately announced by Nietzsche had already been created by -the enigmatic and dilettante fancy of Renan. The name itself was -as old as Goethe, though it is to be recalled that not Goethe but -Mephistopheles applies it to Faust as a sneer and a temptation. -Zarathustra is not a prophet nor even a pioneer; he brings but a new -mode of speech, his triumphant and dancing phrase sweeps into its -whirl a thousand ghosts and phantoms. And what is to be said of the -doctrine itself? Perhaps the most adequate answer to Nietzsche, on the -plane of his own ideas, is that of Guyau. Both were poets, strayed -into philosophy, both seize upon life as the key to all reality. But -Guyau finds in the spontaneous outflow of individual life, itself the -spring of sociability, fraternity, love. An organism is more perfect -as it is more sociable, there can be no full intensity without wide -expansion. "There is a certain generosity inseparable from existence, -without which one withers up interiorly and dies. The mind must flower; -morality, altruism are the flower of human life." The reduction of -all consciousness to one mode--in Nietzsche the Will to Power--is -neither new nor difficult. La Rochefoucauld tracked down behind all -motives the motive of self-interest, and modern simplifiers have amused -themselves by analysing passion into unconscious thought. The soul, -as St. Augustine tells us, is all in every part; and since the same -self is always present, it is obviously possible in some fashion or -another to translate any one mood of its life into any other. But such -suppression of the finer details, while interesting as a tour de force, -is not scientific psychology. The Will to Power is not sufficiently -definite to serve the turn of a moralist or even an immoralist. Power -is of many kinds. Love hath its victories not less renowned than -hate. Had Cleopatra's nose been shorter, history would, says Pascal, -have been different, and in the phrase of the French _chanson_ there -are often more conquests ambushed in the hair of Delilah than in -that of Samson. Nietzsche himself perceived that it was necessary to -establish a hierarchy of values as between different manifestations -of "power," but this _Umwerthung aller Werthe_ was never either -achieved or achievable. The evangel of Zarathustra dissolves into mere -sound and fury for lack of what the Court of Equity calls reasonable -particularity. Most notable is this in regard to the two laws. Am I a -Superman--or rather a potential ancestor of the Superman, for in this -case hereditary privilege runs backwards--with the right to found my -life on pride, pleasure, and the love of power, or am I a slave with no -right except to remain a slave? The test is astral, and even nebulous. -If you can compel the stars to circle about you as their centre, if you -have a chaos in you and are about to beget a dancing star, then you -are of the seed of the Superman. Unhappily, the only people who could -seriously entertain such an estimate of themselves are the very wealthy -and the very mad. Zarathustra derides the mob in order to flatter the -snob; he is _malgré lui_ the casuist of the idle rich, the courtier of -international finance. - -Friedrich Nietzsche was an optimist. It was a paradox of courage. There -is nothing nobler or more valiant in the history of thought than his -refusal to let the sun be dimmed by the mist of his own suffering. "No -invalid has the right to be a pessimist." "Let them beware: the years -in which my vitality sank to its minimum were those in which I ceased -to be a pessimist." That is magnificent, but it is not philosophy. If -Nietzsche by his insomnia and his wounded eyes is pledged on the point -of honour to optimism, is not Schopenhauer by his fixed income and -excellent digestion similarly pledged to pessimism? But Zarathustra's -optimism is not merely positive, it is ecstatic: to express its fulness -he creates the formula of the Eternal Return. He claps his hands and -cries "Encore!" to life. He is drunken with joy as men are in the -taverns with corn and the grape, and he shouts "The same again!" - -This Eternal Return is presented to us as a conclusion of mathematical -physics and spectrum analysis. St. Thomas Aquinas taught, following -Aristotle, that the stars were composed of a substance nobler than -that of earth, not subject to birth or death, and so immune from -corruption. But Fraunhofer and his successors have, with their prisms -and telescopes, discovered in the stars the same eighty-one or -eighty-two elements which constitute the earth. Since then we have -but a finite number of indestructible elements and forces, and an -infinite space and time--or at least a space and time to which we can -conceive no limits--it must follow that the same combinations will -repeat themselves incessantly both in space and time. There is not only -an Eternal Return, but an Infinite Reduplication. And if thought, as -Nietzsche assumed, is only the phosphorescence accompanying certain -arrangements of matter, the same conscious life must also repeat -itself. One does not stay to discuss this phantasy of mathematics -except to say that whoever was entitled to entertain it Zarathustra -was not. If science is, as he held, a mere linked illusionism, how can -it give so absolute a prophecy? To Nietzsche it was no conclusion, but -a reminiscence from Greek speculation which came to him, disguised in -the flame of an inspiration, under that pyramidal rock near Sorlei, -"six thousand feet above men and time." He accepted it because it -seemed to him the supreme formula of optimism. His mind was incited -to it perhaps by that sombre passage in which his rejected master, -Schopenhauer, declares that if you were to knock on the graves, with -power to summon forth the dead to rise up and live their lives again, -none would answer to your call. Christianity agrees with Schopenhauer; -for though Christianity is an optimism, it is founded on pessimism. It -is an optimism poised on a centre that does not lie within the walls -of space and time. Christianity called a new world into existence to -redress the balance of the old; and were this old world all--a closed -circuit, a rounded whole--Zarathustra might dance and chant through all -its Campo Santos without finding more than a very few to rise up and -follow him. - -The practical consequences to which Nietzsche was led were in his own -phrase inactual, out of time and out of season. Zarathustra is, by a -natural kinship, a prophet of the Anarchists, but he hated Anarchism; -by a strange transformation, the genius of a certain school of -Socialists, but he despised Socialism. German officials in Poland may -find in him a veritable Oppressors' Handbook; he danced through the -streets at the victory over France, but he derided the German State -and Empire as a new idol. He contemned women, but praised indissoluble -marriage. He preached pleasure, but celebrated chastity in a noble -hymn. He was all for authority and inequality, "a Joseph de Maistre," -says Fouillée, "who believes in the hangman without believing in the -Pope"; but when he looked at a criminal on trial he acquitted everybody -except only the judge. He denounced Bismarck and the Kaiser for being -too democratic; he regarded Science, too, as disastrously democratic, -because it subjected all phenomena, great and small, to the same -uniform laws. Will was his god, but he saw the world under the aspect -of a Mahometan determinism, and submitted himself to a resignation, -an adoption of the hostile ways of existence, an _amor fati_ which a -Stoic might think extravagant. A German proletarian, full of German -prejudices, he thought himself Polish and noble, and boasted of being a -_sans-patrie_ and a "good European." Pity, generosity, self-immolation, -the whole ritual of civilisation, were condemned by Zarathustra and -practised by him. In brief, Nietzsche never rose above a sort of -philosophical cinematograph; he had the glitter but never the hard -definiteness of the diamond which he chose as his symbol. - -But it would be very superficial to suppose that a thought so -passionate could be altogether unreal. Zarathustra is a counter-poison -to sentimentalism, that worst ailment of our day. He brings a sort of -ethical strychnine which taken in large doses is fatal, but in small -doses is an incomparable tonic. He disturbed many who were woefully at -ease in Zion, and was a poet of the heroic life. Germany, so apt to -lose herself in the jungle of scholarship, needed to be reminded that -erudition exists for the sake of life and not life for the sake of -erudition. To literature, when he wrote in conformity with its settled -and common tradition, he gave great chants of courage, loneliness -and friendship. In M. Halévy's book, founded on that of Madame -Förster-Nietzsche, we have in English for the first time a portrait -of him in the intimacies of his life and thought. It exhibits him as -better than his gospel, a hundred times better than most of those -disturbers of civilisation who call themselves his disciples. - -T. M. KETTLE - - - - -The Life of Friedrich Nietzsche - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -CHILDHOOD - - -Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche, a young clergyman of the Lutheran Church, -came of an ecclesiastical family. His father and his grandfather had -taught theology. His wife was the daughter and the granddaughter of -clergy-men. Ignoring modern thought and all the agitations and desires -of his time, he followed the safe path of the double tradition, -which had at once been revealed by God to the faithful and indicated -by Princes to their subjects. His superiors thought highly of him. -Frederick William IV., King of Prussia, condescended to take him under -his wing, and he might have hoped for a fine career had he not suffered -from headaches and nerves. As it was, rest became essential. - -He asked for a country parish, and that of Röcken was confided to -him. The situation of this poor village, whose little houses uprear -themselves in a vast plain on the confines of Prussia and Saxony, was -melancholy; but Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche liked the place, for solitude was -acceptable to him. He was a great musician, and often, at the fall of -day, would shut himself up in his church and improvise upon the rustic -organ whilst the good folk of his parish stood without and listened in -admiration. - -The pastor and his young wife waited four years for their first child, -who was born on October 15,1844, the King's birthday. The coincidence -increased the father's joy. "O month of October, blessed month," he -wrote in his church register, "ever have you overwhelmed me with joy. -But of all the joys that you have brought me, this is the deepest, -the most magnificent: I baptize my first child.... My son, Friedrich -Wilhelm, such shall be your name on earth in remembrance of the royal -benefactor whose birthday is yours." - -The child soon had a brother, then a sister. There are women who -remember Friedrich's infancy, and those quickly passing days of joy -round the Nietzsches' hearth. Friedrich was slow in learning to speak. -He looked at everything with grave eyes, and kept silent. At the age -of two and a half he spoke his first word. The pastor liked his silent -boy, and was glad to have him as a companion of his walks. Never did -Friedrich Nietzsche forget the sound of distant bells ringing over the -immense pool-strewn plain as he wandered with his father, his hand -nestled in that strong hand. - -Misfortune came very quickly. In August, 1848, Nietzsche's father fell -from the top of the stone steps leading up to his door, and struck his -head violently against the edge of one of them. The shock brought on a -terrible attack, or, perhaps, for one cannot be certain, only hastened -its approach: Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche lost his reason, and, after a year -of aberration and decline, died. Friedrich Nietzsche was then four -years old. The incidents of this tragic time made a deep impression -upon his mind: night-alarms, the weeping in the house, the terrors of -the closed chamber, the silence, the utter abandonment to woe; the -tolling bells, the hymns, the funeral sermons; the coffin engulfed -beneath the flagstones of the church. His understanding of such things -had come too early, and he was shaken by it. His nights were troubled -with visions, and he had a presentiment of some early disaster. He had -dreams--here is the naïve recital that he makes in his fourteenth year: - -"When one despoils a tree of its crown it withers and the birds desert -its branches. Our family had been despoiled of its crown; joy departed -from our hearts, and a profound sadness entered into possession of us. -And our wounds were but closing when they were painfully reopened. -About this time I had a dream in which I heard mournful organ music, -as if at a burial. And as I was trying to discover the cause of this -playing, a tomb opened sharply and my father appeared, clad in his -shroud. He crossed the church, and returned with a little child in his -arms. The tomb opened again, my father disappeared into it, and the -stone swung back to its place. At once the wail of the organ ceased, -and I awoke. The next morning I told the dream to my dear mother. A -short while after, my little brother Joseph fell ill, and after a -nervous crisis of a few hours, he died. Our grief was terrible. My -dream was exactly fulfilled, for the little body was placed in the arms -of its father. After this double calamity the Lord in heaven was our -sole consolation. It was towards the end of January, 1850." - -In the spring of this year the pastor's widow left the parochial house -and went to reside in the neighbouring town of Naumburg-zur-Saale, -where she was near her own people. Relations of hers lived in the -neighbouring countryside. Her husband's mother and his sister came to -stay with her in the small house, to which the children, who at first -had been disconsolate, gradually grew accustomed. - -Naumburg was a royal city, favoured by the Hohenzollerns and devoted -to their dynasty. A bourgeois society of officials and pastors, with -some officers' families and a few country squires, lived within the -grass-grown ramparts, pierced with five gates, which were closed every -evening. Their existence was grave and measured. The bell of the -metropolitan church, flinging its chimes across the little town, awoke -it, sent it to sleep, assembled it to State and religious festivals. -As a small boy Nietzsche was himself grave and measured. His instincts -were in accord with the customs of Naumburg, and his active soul was -quick to discover the beauties of his new life. He admired the military -parades, the religious services with organ and choir, the majestic -anniversary celebrations. He found himself deeply moved every year by -the return of Christmas. His birthday stirred him less deeply, but was -a source of great joy. - -"My birthday being also that of our beloved King," he wrote, "I am -awakened that day by military music. I receive my presents: the -ceremony is quickly over, and we go together to the church. Although -the sermon is not directed to my special benefit, I choose the best of -it and apply it to myself. Afterwards we all assemble at the school to -celebrate the great festival.... Before the break-up a fine patriotic -chorus is sung, and the director _concilium dimisit._ Then comes for -me the best moment of all; my friends arrive and we spend a happy day -together." - -Friedrich did not forget his father, and wished to follow his example -and to become, like all the men of his race, a pastor, one of the -elect who live near God and speak in His name. He could conceive no -higher vocation, nor any more congenial to himself. Young as he was, -he had an exacting and meticulous conscience. The slightest scolding -pained him, and he liked to take his own line, unaided. Whenever he -felt a scruple he would retire to some obscure hiding-place and examine -his conscience, nor would he resume his play with his sister until -he had deliberately arrived at a condemnation or a justification of -his conduct. One day, when it was raining in torrents, his mother saw -him coming back from school with slow, regular steps, although he -was without umbrella or cloak. She called him, and he came sedately -up to her. "We have always been told not to run in the streets," he -explained. His companions nicknamed him "the little pastor," and -listened, in respectful silence, when he read them aloud a chapter from -the Bible. - -He was careful of his prestige. "When one is master of oneself," he -gravely taught his sister, "then one is master of the whole world." He -was proud, and believed in the nobility of the Nietzsches. This was -a family legend which his grandmother loved to relate, and of which -he and his sister Lisbeth used to dream. Remote ancestors of theirs, -Counts, Nietzski by name, had lived in Poland. During the Reformation -they defied persecution, and broke with the Catholic Church. Thereafter -they wandered wretchedly for three years, outcasts, pursued from -village to village. With them was their son, who had been born on -the eve of their flight. The mother nursed this child with devoted -constancy, and he thus acquired, in spite of all ordeals, wonderful -health, lived to a great age, and transmitted to his line the double -virtue of strength and longevity. - -Friedrich was never tired of listening to so fine an adventure. Often -also he asked to be told the history of the Poles. The election of the -King by the Nobles, gathered together on horseback in the midst of a -great plain, and the right which the meanest of them had to oppose his -veto to the will of all the rest, struck him with admiration: he had no -doubt that this race was the greatest in the world. "A Count Nietzski -must not lie," he declared to his sister. Indeed, the passions and the -powerful desires which, thirty or forty years later, were to inspire -his work, already animated this child with the bulging forehead and the -big eyes, whom unhappy women loved to fold in their tender caresses. -When he was nine years old his tastes widened, and music was revealed -to him by a chorus from Handel, heard at church. He studied the piano. -He improvised, he accompanied himself in chanting the Bible, and his -mother, remembering her husband's fate, was troubled, for he, too, like -the child, used to play and improvise on the organ at Röcken. - -The instinct of creation--an instinct that was already -tyrannical--seized hold of him; he composed melodies, fantasies, a -succession of mazurkas, dedicated to his Polish ancestors. He wrote -verses, and mother, grandmother, aunts, sister, received, every -anniversary, a poem with his music. Games themselves became the -pretext for work. He drew up didactic treatises, containing rules -and advice, which he handed over to his comrades. First he taught -them architecture; then, in 1854, during the siege of Sebastopol, -the capture of which made him weep--for he loved all Slavs and hated -the revolutionary French--he studied ballistics and the defence of -fortified places. At the same time, he and two friends founded a -theatre of arts, in which they played dramas of antiquity and of -primitive civilisations, of which he was the author: _The Gods of -Olympus_ and an _Orkadal._ - -He left school to enter college at Naumburg. There he showed from the -first such conspicuous ability that his professors advised his mother -to send him to study in a superior institute. The poor woman hesitated. -She would have liked to keep her child near her. - -This was in 1858. Nietzsche's vacation was of rather a serious -character. He spent it as usual in the village of Pobles, under the -shadow of wooded hills, on the banks of the fresh and lazy Saale, in -which each morning he bathed. His maternal grandparents had him and his -sister Lisbeth to stay with them. He was happy, with a heaped abundance -of life; but his mind was preoccupied with the uncertainty of his -future. - -Adolescence was coming; and perhaps he was about to leave his own -people and change his friends and his home. With some anxiety he -foresaw the new course which his life was going to follow. He called -to mind his boyish past, all the long years of childhood, at which one -should not smile--thirteen years filled with the earliest affections -and the earliest sorrows, with the first proud hopes of an ambitious -soul, with the splendid discovery of music and poetry. Memories came, -numerous, vivid, and touching: Nietzsche, who had a lyric soul, -suddenly became, as it were, intoxicated with himself. - -He took up his pen, and in twelve days the history of his childhood was -written. He was happy when he had finished. - -"Now I have brought my first notebook to a proper end," he writes, "and -I am content with my work. I have written with the greatest pleasure -and without a moment's fatigue. It is a grand thing to pass in review -before one the course of one's first years, and to follow there the -development of one's soul. I have sincerely recounted all the truth -without poetry, without literary ornamentation. That I may write many -more like it!" - -Four little verses followed: - - - "Ein Spiegel ist das Leben - In ihm sich zu erkennen, - Möcht' ich das erste nennen - Wonach wir nur auch streben."[1] - - - -[1] "Life is a mirror. I might say that the recognition of ourselves in -it is the first object to which we all strive." - - * * * * * - -The school of Pforta is situated five miles from Naumburg, on the bank -of the Saale. Ever since a Germany has existed there have been teachers -and scholars in Pforta. Some Cistercian monks, come in the twelfth -century from the Latin West to convert the Slavs, obtained possession -of this property, which lies along both banks of the river. They built -the high walls which surround it, the houses, the church, and founded -a tradition which is not extinct. In the sixteenth century they were -expelled by the Saxon princes, but their school was continued, and -their methods conserved by the Lutherans who were installed in their -place. - -"The children shall be brought up to the religious life," says an -instruction of 1540. "For six years they shall exercise themselves -in the knowledge of letters, and in the disciplines of virtue." The -pupils were kept separated from their families, cloistered with their -teachers. The school had its fixed rules and customs: anything in the -shape of easy manners was forbidden. There was a certain, established -hierarchy: the oldest scholars had charge of the youngest and each -master was the tutor of twenty pupils. Religion, Hebrew, Greek, and -Latin were taught. In this old monastery German rigour, the spirit -of humanism, and the ethic of Protestantism formed a singular and -deep-rooted alliance, a fruitful type of life and sentiment. Many -distinguished men owed their education to Pforta: Novalis, the -Schlegels, Fichte--Fichte, philosopher, educator, patriot, and chief -glory of the school. Nietzsche had long desired to study at Pforta, and -in October, 1858, a scholarship being awarded him, he left his family -to enter the school. - -He now disappears for a time from our ken. An heroic and boyish -anecdote is the sole memory of his first year. The story of Mucius -Scævola seemed an improbable one to some of his comrades; they denied -it: "No man would have the courage to put his hand in fire," opined -these young critics. Nietzsche did not deign to answer, but seized from -the stove a flaming coal and placed it in the palm of his hand. He -always carried the mark of this burn, the more visible because he had -taken care to keep in repair and enlarge so glorious a wound by letting -melted wax run over it. - -Assuredly, he did not easily endure this new life of his. He played -little, not caring to attach himself to unfamiliar people; moreover, -the tender customs of the maternal hearth had ill prepared him for -the disciplines of Pforta. He only went out once a week, on Sunday -afternoon. Then his mother, his sister, and two Naumburg friends of his -came to meet him at the school door, and spent the day with him in a -neighbouring inn. - -In July, 1859, Nietzsche had a month's liberty. The holidays of pupils -at Pforta were never longer. He revisited the people and places that he -liked, and made a rapid voyage to Jena and Weimar. For a year he had -written only what he had to write as a task, but now the inspiration -and delight of the pen returned to him, and he composed out of his -impressions of summer a sentimental fantasy which is not barren of -pathos. - -"The sun has already set," he writes, "when we leave the dark -enclosure. Behind us, the sky is bathed in gold; above us, there is -a glow of rosy clouds: before us, we see the town, lying at rest -under the gentle breeze of evening. Ah, Wilhelm, I say to my friend, -is there any joy greater than that of wandering together across the -world? Oh, pleasure of friendship, faithful friendship: oh, breath -of this magnificent summer night, perfume of flowers, and redness of -evening! Do you not feel your thoughts soar upward, to perch like the -jubilant lark on a throne of golden clouds? The wonder of these evening -landscapes! It is my own life that unveils itself to me. So are my -own days arranged: some shut within the dark penumbra, others lifted -up in the air of liberty! At this moment our ears are pierced by a -shrill cry: it comes from the madhouse which stands near our path. Our -hands join in a tighter clasp, as if some evil genius had touched us -with a sweep of menacing wings. Go from us, ye powers of Evil! Even -in this beautiful world there are unhappy souls! But what, then, is -unhappiness?" - -At the beginning of August he returned to Pforta, as sadly as he had -gone there in the first instance. He could not accept the brusque -constraint of the place, and, being unable to cease thinking of -himself, he kept for some weeks an intimate diary which shows us how he -employed his time and what his humours were from one day to another. -We find, to begin with, certain courageous maxims against ennui, given -him by his professor and transcribed; then a recital of his studies, -his distractions, his readings, and the crises which depress him. -The poetic soul of the child now resists, now resigns itself to its -impressions and bows painfully beneath a discipline. When emotion -urges him he abandons prose, which is not musical enough to express -his melancholy. Rhythm and rhyme appear; under an inspiration he makes -a few verses, a quatrain, a sextain; but he does not seek after the -lyrical impulse, nor hold to it; he merely follows it when it rises -within him; and, as soon as it weakens, prose takes its place, as in a -Shakesperean dialogue. - -Life at Pforta was, however, brightened by hours of simple and youthful -joy. The pupils went out for walks, sang in chorus, bathed. Nietzsche -took part in these delights, and related them. When the heat was too -heavy, the life of the water replaced the life of study. The two -hundred scholars would go down to the river, timing their steps to the -tunes they had struck up. They would throw themselves into the water, -following the current without upsetting the order of their ranks, -accomplish a swim long enough to try, and yet elate, the youngest -members of the party, then clamber up the bank at their master's -whistle, put on their uniforms, which a ferry boat had convoyed in -their wake; then, still singing, still in good order, would march back -to their work and to the old school. "It is absolutely stunning," says -Nietzsche in effect. - -So time went by, and the end of August came. The Journal is silent for -eight days, then for six, then for a whole month. When he reopens his -notebook, it is to bring it to an end. - -"Since the day on which I began this Journal my state of mind has -completely changed. Then we were in the green abundance of the -late summer: now, alas! we are in the late autumn. Then I was an -_unter-tertianer_ (a lower form boy); now I am in a higher form.... My -birthday has come and gone, and I am older--time passes like the rose -of spring, and pleasure like the foam of the brook. - -"At this moment I feel myself seized by an extraordinary desire for -knowledge, for universal culture. That impulse comes to me from -Humboldt, whom I have just read. May it prove as lasting as my love for -poetry!" - -He now mapped out a vast programme of study in which geology, botany, -and astronomy were combined with readings in the Latin stylists, -Hebrew, military science, and all the techniques. "And above all -things," said he, "Religion, the foundation of all knowledge. Great is -the domain of knowledge, _infinite_ the search after truth." - -A winter and spring-time sped away while the boy worked on. But now -came his second holidays, then the third return to school; it was when -autumn had denuded the great oaks on the estate of Pforta. Friedrich -Nietzsche is seventeen years of age, and he is sad. Too long had -he imposed upon himself a painful obedience; he had read Schiller, -Hölderlin, Byron; he dreams of the Gods of Greece, and of the sombre -Manfred, that all-powerful magician who, weary of his omnipotence, -vainly sought repose in the death which his art had conquered. What -cares Nietzsche for the lessons of his professors? He meditates on the -lines of the romantic poet: - - - "Sorrow is knowledge; they who know the most - Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, - The tree of knowledge is not that of life." - - -He grows weary at last. He longs to escape from the routine of classes, -from tasks which absorb his whole life. He would listen to his soul -alone, and thus come to understand the dreams with which his mind -overflows. He confides in his mother and his sister, and declares that -his projects for the future have changed. The thought of the University -bores him; he now wants to be not a professor, but a musician. His -mother reasons with him, and succeeds in appeasing him a little. But -her success is not for long. The death of a master to whom he had -been attached completes his confusion of mind. He neglects his work, -isolates himself, and meditates. - -He writes. From his earliest childhood he had had the instinct of -the phrase and the word, the instinct of visible thought. He writes -incessantly, and not one shade of his unrest has remained hidden -from us. He surveys the vast universe of romanticism and of science, -sombre, restless, and loveless. This monstrous vision fascinates and -frightens him. The pious ways of his boyhood still hold him under their -influence; he reproaches himself for his inclinations towards audacity -and negation, as if for sins. He strives to retain his religious faith, -which is dwindling day by day. He does not break with it sharply in the -French and Catholic manner, but slowly and fearfully detaches himself; -slowly, because he venerates those dogmas or symbols which stand for -all his past, for his memories of his home and his father; fearfully, -because he knows that in renouncing the old security he will find not -a new security to take its place, but a surging throng of problems. -Weighing the supreme gravity of the choice imposed on him, he meditates: - -"Such an enterprise," he writes, "is the work not of a few weeks but -of a life-time: can it be that, armed solely with the results of a -boy's reflections, any one will venture to destroy the authority of two -thousand years, guaranteed as it is by the deepest thinkers of all the -centuries? Can it be that with his own mere fancies and rudiments of -thought any one will venture to thrust aside from him all that anguish -and benediction of religion with which history is profoundly penetrated? - -"To decide at a stroke those philosophical problems about which human -thought has maintained an unending war for many thousands of years; -to revolutionise beliefs which, accepted by men of the weightiest -authority, first lifted man up to the level of true humanity; to link -up Philosophy with the natural sciences, without as much as knowing the -general results of the one or the others; and finally to derive from -those natural sciences a system of reality, when the mind has not yet -grasped either the unity of universal history, or the most essential -principles--it is a masterpiece of rashness.... - -"What then is humanity? We hardly know: one stage in a whole, one -period in a process of Becoming, an arbitrary production of God? Is -man aught else than a stone evolved through the intermediary worlds of -flora and fauna? Is he from this time forward a completed being, or -what has history in reserve for him? Is this eternal Becoming to have -no end? What are the springs of this great clock? They are hidden; but -however long be the duration of that vast hour which we call history, -they are at every moment the same. The crises are inscribed on the -dial-face: the hand moves on, and when it has reached the twelfth hour, -it begins another series: it inaugurates a period in the history of -humanity. - -"To risk oneself, without guide or compass, on the ocean of doubt is -for a young brain loss and madness; most adventurers on it are broken -by the storms, few indeed are the discoverers of new lands.... All our -philosophy has very often appeared to me a very Tower of Babel.... -It has as its desolating result an infinite disturbance of popular -thought; we must expect a vast upheaval when the multitude discovers -that all Christianity is founded on gratuitous affirmations. The -existence of God, immortality, the authority of the Bible, Revelation, -will for ever be problems. I have attempted to deny everything: ah, to -destroy is easy, but to construct!" - -What a marvellous instinct appears in this page! Friedrich Nietzsche -poses the precise questions which are later to occupy his thought and -gives a foretaste of the energetic answers with which he is to trouble -men's souls: humanity is a nothing, an arbitrary production of God; -an absurd Becoming impels it towards recommencements without a term, -towards eternal returns; all sovereignty is referable in the last -instance to force, and force is blind, following only chance.... - -Friedrich Nietzsche affirms nothing: he disapproves of rapid -conclusions on grave subjects, and, so long as he is hesitant, likes -to abstain from them. But when he commits himself, it will be with a -whole heart. Meanwhile he stays his thought. But, despite himself, it -overflows at times in its effort towards expression. "Very often," he -writes, "submission to the will of God and humility are but a mantle -thrown over the cowardice and pusillanimity which we experience at -the moment when we ought to face our destiny with courage." All the -Nietzschean ethics, all the Nietzschean heroism are included in these -few words. - -We have named the authors who were Nietzsche's favourites at this -time: Schiller, Byron, Hölderlin--of these he preferred Hölderlin, -then so little known. He had discovered him, as one discovers, at a -glance, a friend in a crowd. It was a singular encounter. The life of -this child, now scarcely begun, was to resemble the life of the poet -who had just died. Hölderlin, the son of a clergyman, had wished to -follow his father's vocation. In 1780 he is studying theology at the -University of Tübingen with comrades whose names are Hegel, Sendling. -He ceases to believe. He comes to know Rousseau, Goethe, Schiller, and -the intoxication of romanticism. He loves the mystery of nature, and -the lucid mind of Greece; he loves them together, and dreams of uniting -their beauties in a German work. He is poor, and has to live the hard -life of a needy poet. As a teacher, he endures the ennui of wealthy -houses in which he is despised generally, and once is loved too much--a -brief rapture that ends in distress. He returns to his native village, -for its air and its people are pleasant to him. He works, writes at -his leisure, but as it pains him to live at the expense of his own -family, he goes away again. He has some of his verses published; but -the public shows no taste for those fine poems in which the genius -of an unknown German calls up the Gods of Olympus to people the deep -forests of Suabia and the Rhineland. The unhappy Hölderlin dreams of -vaster creations, but goes no farther than a dream: Germany is a world -in itself, and Greece is another; the inspiration of a Goethe is needed -to unite them, and to fix in eternal words the triumph of Faust, the -ravisher of Helen. Hölderlin writes fragments of a poem in prose: his -hero is a young Greek, who laments over the ruin of his race and, -frail forerunner of Zarathustra, calls for the rebirth of a valorous -humanity. He composes three scenes of a tragedy, taking for his hero -Empedocles, tyrant of Agrigentum, poet, philosopher, haughty inspirer -of the multitude, a Greek isolated among the Greeks by reason of his -very greatness, a magician, who, possessing all nature, wearies of the -satisfactions which one life can offer, retires to the summit of Etna, -sends away his family, his friends, his appealing people, and flings -himself, one evening, at sunset, into the crater. - -The work is full of power; but Hölderlin abandons it. His melancholy -enfeebles and exalts him. He wishes to leave Germany where he has -suffered so much, and to free his relatives from the inconvenience of -his presence. Employment is offered to him in France, at Bordeaux, and -he disappears. Six months later he returns home sunburnt and in rags. -He is questioned, but he does not reply. Enquiries are made and it is, -with great difficulty, discovered that he had crossed France on foot -under the August sun. His mind is gone, swallowed up in a torpor which -is to last for forty years. He dies in 1843, a few months before the -birth of Nietzsche. It might please a Platonist to think that the same -genius passed from one body to the other. Surely the same German soul, -romantic by nature, and classic in aspiration, broken at length by its -desires, animated these two men, and predestined them to the same end. -One seems to surprise across the tenor of their lives the blind labour -of the race, which, pursuing its monotonous bent, sends into the world, -from century to century, like children for like ordeals. - -That year, at the approach of summer, Nietzsche suffered severely from -his head and eyes. The malady was uncertain in its nature, but possibly -had its origin in the nerves. His holidays were spoilt. But he arranged -to be able to stay at Naumburg until the end of August, and the joys of -a prolonged leisure compensated him for previous vexations. - - * * * * * - -He returned to Pforta in a wholesome frame of mind. He had not -resolved his doubts but he had explored them, and could without -wronging himself become once more a laborious student. He was careful -not to interrupt his reading, which was immense. From month to month -he sent punctually to his two friends at Naumburg, poems, pieces of -dance and song music, essays in criticism and philosophy. But these -occupations were not allowed to interrupt his work as a student. Under -the direction of excellent masters, he studied the languages and the -literatures of antiquity. - -He would have been happy, had not the pressing questions of the future -and of a profession begun to torment him. - -"I am much preoccupied with the problem of my future," he wrote to his -mother in May, 1862. "Many reasons, external and internal, make it -appear to me troubled and uncertain. Doubtless I believe myself to be -capable of success in whatever province I select. But strength fails -me to put aside so many of the diverse objects which interest me. What -shall I study? No idea of a decision presents itself to my mind, and -yet with myself alone it lies to reflect and to make my choice. What -is certain is that whatever I study I shall be eager to probe to its -depths. But this fact only renders the choice more difficult, since -the question is to discover the pursuit to which one can give one's -whole self. And how often they deceive us, these hopes of ours! How -quickly one is put on the wrong track by a momentary predilection, -a family tradition, a desire! To choose one's profession is to make -one in a game of _lotto,_ in which there are many blanks, but only -very few prizes! At this moment my position is uncomfortable. I have -dispersed my interest over so many provinces that if I were to satisfy -my tastes I would certainly become a very learned man, but only with -great difficulty a professional animal. My task is to destroy many of -my present tastes, that is clear, and, by the same process, to acquire -new ones. But which are the unfortunates that I am to throw overboard? -Precisely my dearest children, maybe! ..." - -His last holidays slipped by into the beginning of his last year. -Nietzsche returned without vexation to the old school which he was soon -to leave. The rules had grown lighter, and he had a room to himself, -and certain liberties. He went out to dine on the invitation of this or -that professor, and thus, even in the monastery, he had his first taste -of the pleasures of the world. At the house of one of his tutors he met -a charming girl; he saw her again, and, for the first time in his life, -fell in love. For some days his dreams were all of the books which he -wished to lend her, of the music which he wished to play with her. His -emotion was delicious. But the girl left Pforta, and Nietzsche returned -to his work. The _Banquet_ of Plato, the tragedies of Æschylus, were -his last diversions before he gave himself up to the ordinary round -of tasks. Sometimes he sat down to the piano just before the supper -hour; two comrades who were to remain his friends, Gersdorff and Paul -Deussen, listening while he played them Beethoven or Schumann, or -improvised. - -Poetry is always by him. If he has the slightest leisure, if there is -a delay of some hours in his work, the lyricist reappears. On Easter -morning he leaves school, returns home, goes straight to his room, -where he is alone, dreams for a moment; then finds himself assailed by -a multitude of impressions. He writes with intense pleasure after his -long privation. And is not the page, which we transcribe here, worthy -of Zarathustra? - -"Here I am on the evening of Easter Day, seated at my fire, enveloped -in a dressing-gown. Outside a fine rain is falling. All about me -is solitude. A sheet of white paper lies on my table; I look at it -in a muse, rolling my pen between my fingers, embarrassed by the -inextricable multitude of subjects, feelings, thoughts which press -forward and ask to be written. Some of them clamour and make a great -tumult: they are young and eager for life. Others gesture and struggle -there also: they are old thoughts, well matured, well clarified; -like elderly gentlemen they regard with displeasure the mêlée of -young bloods. This struggle between an old world and a new it is that -determines our mood; and the state of combat, the victory of these, -the weakness of those, we call at any moment our state of mind, our -_Stimmung...._ Often when I play the spy on my thoughts and feelings, -and study them in religious silence, I am impressed as with the hum and -ferment of savage factions, the air shudders and is torn across as if a -thought or an eagle had shot up towards the sun. - -"Combat is the food which gives strength to the soul. The soul has -skill to pluck out of battle sweet and glorious fruits. Impelled by the -desire for fresh nutriment, it destroys; it struggles fiercely--but -how gentle it can be when it allures the adversary, gathers it close -against itself, and wholly assimilates it. - -"That impression, which at this moment makes all your pleasure or all -your pain, will, it may be, slip off in an instant, being the mere -drapery of an impression still more profound, will disappear before -something older and higher. Thus our impressions grave themselves -deeper and deeper on our souls, being ever unique, incomparable, -unspeakably young, swift as the instant that brought them. - -"At this moment I am thinking of certain people whom I have loved; -their names, their faces pass before my mind. I do not mean that -in fact their natures become continually more profound and more -beautiful; but it is at least true that each of these reminiscences, -when I recover it, leads me on to some acuter impression, for -the mind cannot endure to return to a level which it has already -passed; it has a need of constant expansion. I salute you, dear -impressions, marvellous undulations of an agitated soul. You are as -numerous as Nature, but more grandiose, for you increase and strive -perpetually--the plant, on the contrary, gives out to-day the same -perfume that it gave out on the day of creation. I no longer love -now as I loved a few weeks ago, and I find myself in a different -disposition at this moment from that in which I was when I took up this -pen." - -Nietzsche returned to Pforta to undergo his last examinations. He all -but failed to pass; and, indeed, in mathematics he did not obtain -the required number of marks. But the professors, overlooking this -inadequacy, granted him his diploma. He left his old school, and left -it with pain. His mind easily adjusted itself to the places where it -lived, and clung with equal force to happy memories and to melancholy -impressions. - -The break-up of the school was a prescribed ceremony. The assembled -students prayed together for the last time; then those who were about -to leave presented their masters with a written testimony of gratitude. -Friedrich Nietzsche's letter moves one by its pathetic and solemn -accent. First he addresses himself to God: "To Him who has given -me all, my first thanks. What offering should I bring Him, if not -the warm gratitude of my heart, confident of His love? It is He who -has permitted me to live this glorious hour of my life. May He, the -All-Bountiful, continue to watch over me." Then he thanks the King, -"through whose goodness I entered this school...; him and my country -I hope one day to honour. Such is my resolve." Then he speaks to his -venerated masters, to his dear comrades, "and particularly to you, my -dear friends: what shall I say to you at the instant of parting? I -understand how it is that the plant when torn from the soil which has -nourished it can only take root slowly and with difficulty in a foreign -soil. Shall I be able to disaccustom myself to you? Shall I be able to -accustom myself to another environment? Adieu!" - -These long effusions were not enough, and he wrote, for himself alone, -certain lines in which they are repeated: - - - "So be it--it is the way of the world: - Let life deal with me as with so many others: - They set forth, their frail skiff is shattered, - And no man can tell us the spot where it sank. - - Adieu, adieu! the ship's bell calls me, - And as I linger the shipmaster urges me on. - And now to confront bravely waves, storms, reefs. - Adieu, adieu!..." - - - - - -CHAPTER II - - - -YEARS OF YOUTH - - - -In the middle of October, 1862, Nietzsche left Naumburg for the -University of Bonn, accompanied by Paul Deussen, his comrade, and a -cousin of the latter. The young people did not hurry. They made a -halt on the banks of the Rhine. They were gay, a little irresponsible -even, in their sudden enjoyment of complete liberty. Paul Deussen, -to-day a professor at the University of Kiel, tells us of those days of -exuberant laughter with all the satisfaction of a very good bourgeois -who brightens up at the memory of his far-off pranks. - -The three friends rode on horseback about the country-side. -Nietzsche--perhaps he had appreciated too highly the beer supplied -at the neighbouring inn--was less interested in the beauty of the -landscape than in the long ears of his mount. He measured them -carefully. "It's a donkey," he affirmed. "No," replied Deussen and the -other friend, "it's a horse." Nietzsche measured again and maintained, -with praiseworthy firmness: "It's a donkey." They came back at the -fall of day. They shouted, perorated, and generally scandalised the -little town. Nietzsche warbled love songs, and girls, drawn by the -noise to their windows and half-hidden behind curtains, peeped out at -the cavalcade. Finally an honest citizen, who had left his house for -the express purpose, cried shame on the roisterers, and, not without -threats, put them back on the road to their inn. - -The three friends installed themselves at Bonn. The Universities -enjoyed at that time an uncommon prestige. They alone had remained -free, and maintained in a divided Germany a powerful life in a weakly -body. They had their history, which was glorious, and their legends, -which were more glorious still. Every one knew how the young scholars -of Leipsic, of Berlin, of Jena, of Heidelberg, and of Bonn, kindled -by the exhortations of their teachers, had armed themselves against -Napoleon for the salvation of the German race; every one also knew that -these valiant fellows had fought, and were still fighting, against -despots and priests to lay the foundations of German liberty; and -the nation loved these grave professors, these tumultuous youths who -represented the Fatherland in its most noble aspect, the laborious -Fatherland, armed for labour. There was not a small boy but dreamt -of his student years as the finest time of his life; there was not a -tender girl but dreamt of some pure and noble student; and among all -the dreams of dreamy Germany there was none more alluring than that -of the Universities. She was infinitely proud of those illustrious -schools of knowledge, bravery, virtue, and joy. Their arrival at Bonn -moved Nietzsche and his comrades very deeply. "I arrived at Bonn," -says one of the numerous essays in which Nietzsche recounts his own -life to himself, "with the proud sense of an inexhaustibly rich future -before me." He was conscious of his power, and impatient to make -the acquaintance of his contemporaries, with whom, and on whom, his -thoughts were to work. - -Most of the students at Bonn lived grouped together in associations. -Nietzsche hesitated a little before following this custom. But from -fear of too unsociable a withdrawal should he not impose upon himself -some obligation of comradeship, he joined one of these Vereine. "It -was only after ripe reflection that I took this step, which, given -my character, seemed to me an almost necessary one," he wrote to his -friend Gersdorff. - -During the next few weeks he allowed himself to be absorbed by the -course of his new life. No doubt he never touched either beer or -tobacco. But learned discussions; boatings upon the river; hours of -light-headedness in the riverside inns, and, at evening on the way -home, improvised choruses--Nietzsche made the best of these simple -pleasures. He even wished to fight a duel so that he might become a -"finished" student, and, lacking an enemy, chose for his adversary an -agreeable comrade. "I am new this year," said he to him, "and I want to -fight a duel. I rather like you. Let us fight." "Willingly," said the -other. Nietzsche received a rapier thrust. - -It was impossible that such a life should content him for long. The -mood of infantile gaiety soon passed away. At the beginning of December -he withdrew a little from this life. Disquiet was again gaining on him. -The festival of Christmas and that of the New Year, passed far from -his own people, were causes of sadness. A letter to his mother lets us -divine his emotion: - -"I like anniversaries, the feast of St. Sylvester or birthdays. To them -we owe those hours in which the soul, brought to a pause, discovers -a fragment of its own existence. No doubt it is in our own power to -experience such moments more frequently; but we allow ourselves too -few. They favour the birth of decisive resolutions. At such moments it -is my custom to take up again the manuscripts, the letters, of the year -that has just gone by, and to write for myself alone the reflections -which come to me. During an hour or two, one is, as it were, raised -above time, drawn out of one's own existence. One acquires a view of -the past that is brief and certain, one resolves with a more valiant -and a firmer heart to strike forward on the road once more. And when -good wishes and family benedictions fall like soft rain on the soul's -intents--Ah! that is fine!" - -Of the reflections written by the young student "for himself alone" -we possess some traces. He reproaches himself for wasted hours, and -decides upon a more austere and concentrated life. Nevertheless, when -the time came for him to break with his companions, he hesitated. -They were somewhat coarse, it is true, but yet young and brave, like -himself. Should he keep in with them? A delicate fear troubled him; -he might, as the result of long indulgence, accustom himself to their -low way of living, and so come to feel it less acutely. "Habit is a -powerful force," he wrote to his friend Gersdorff. "One has already -lost much when one has lost one's instinctive distrust of the evil -things which present themselves in daily life." He took a third course, -a very difficult course, and decided that he would talk frankly to his -friends, that he would try to exercise an influence on them, to ennoble -their lives. Thus he would commence the apostolate which he dreamed of -extending one day over the whole of Germany. He proposed therefore a -reform of the rules of the association; he called for the suppression, -or at least for a reduction, of those smoking and drinking parties -which provoked his disgust. - -The proposal met with no success. The preacher was silenced, and set -aside. Nietzsche, prompt with sarcasm, avenged himself with words which -did not win him any love. Then he knew the worst of solitudes, the -solitude of the vanquished. He had not retired from the world; he had -been asked to leave it. He was proud, and his stay at Bonn became a -misery. He worked energetically and joylessly. He studied philology, -which did not interest him. It was an exercise which he had taken up -to discipline his mind, to correct his tendencies towards a vague -mysticism and dispersion of thought. But it pleased him in no way, -this minute analysis of Greek texts the sudden beauty of which he felt -by instinct. Ritschl, his master in philology, dissuaded him from any -other study. "If you wish to become a strong man," he said, "acquire -a speciality." Nietzsche obeyed. He renounced the idea, which he had -entertained, of making a deep study of theology. In December he had -composed some melodies: now he decided that he would not, for a whole -year, allow himself the enjoyment of so vain a pleasure; he wished to -submit, and to break himself in to ennui. He was recompensed for his -pains, and was able to write a work which Ritschl commended for its -rigour and sagacity. - -A poor pleasure! It was thought that Nietzsche needed. He listened -to the talk of the students. Some repeated without any ardour of -conviction the formulas of Hegel, of Fichte, of Schelling: those great -systems had lost all their power to stimulate. Others, preferring -the positive sciences, read the materialistic treatises of Vogt and -Büchner. Nietzsche read these treatises, but did not re-read them. -He was a poet and had need of lyricism, intuition, and mystery; he -could not be contented with the clear and cold world of science. Those -same young people, who called themselves materialists, also called -themselves democrats; they vaunted the humanitarian philosophy of -Feuerbach; but Nietzsche was again too much of a poet and, by education -or by temperament, too much of an aristocrat to interest himself in -the politics of the masses. He conceived beauty, virtue, force, -heroism, as desirable ends, and he desired them for himself. But he had -never desired a happy life, a smooth and comfortable life: therefore -he could not interest himself in men's happiness, in the poor ideal of -moderate joy and moderate suffering. - -Little satisfied as he was by all the tendencies of his contemporaries, -what joy could he experience? Repelled by a base politics, a nerveless -metaphysics, a narrow science, whither could he direct his mind? -Certainly he had his clear and well-marked preferences. He was certain -of his tastes. He loved the Greek poets, he loved Bach, Beethoven, -Byron. But what was the drift of his own thought? - -He had no answer to the problems of life, and now in his twenty-first, -as formerly in his seventeenth year, preferring silence to uncertain -speech, he kept himself under a discipline of silence. In his writings, -his letters, his conversation, he was always on his guard. His friend -Deussen suggested that prayer has no real virtue, and only gives to -the mind an illusory confidence. "That is one of the asininities of -Feuerbach," Nietzsche replied tartly. The same Deussen was speaking -on another occasion of the _Life of Jesus_ which Strauss had just -published in a new edition, and expressing approval of the sense -of the book. Nietzsche refused to pronounce upon the subject. "The -question is important," said he. "If you sacrifice Jesus, you must also -sacrifice God." These words would seem to show that Nietzsche was still -attached to Christianity. A letter addressed to his sister removes this -impression. The young girl, who had remained a believer, wrote to him: -"One must always seek truth at the most painful side of things. Now -one does not believe in the Christian mysteries without difficulty. -Therefore the Christian mysteries are true." She at once received from -her brother a reply which betrays, by the harshness of its language, -the unhappy condition of his soul. - -"Do you think that it is really so difficult to receive and accept all -the beliefs in which we have been brought up, which little by little -have struck deep roots into our lives, which are held as true by all -our own kith and kin, and a vast multitude of other excellent people, -and which, whether they be true or not, do assuredly console and -elevate humanity? Do you think that such acceptance is more difficult -than a struggle against the whole mass of one's habits, waged in doubt -and loneliness, and darkened by every kind of spiritual depression, nay -more, by remorse; a struggle which leaves a man often in despair, but -always loyal to his eternal quest, the discovery of the new paths that -lead to the True, the Beautiful, and the Good? - -"What will be the end of it all? Shall we recover those ideas of God, -the world, and redemption which are familiar to us? To the genuine -seeker must not the result of his labours appear as something wholly -indifferent? What is it we are seeking? Rest and happiness? No, nothing -but Truth, however evil and terrible it may be. - -"... So are the ways of men marked out; if you desire peace of soul and -happiness, believe; if you would be a disciple of Truth, enquire ..." - -Nietzsche tried to endure this painful life. He walked in the country. -Alone in his room he studied the history of art and the life of -Beethoven. They were vain efforts; he could not forget the people of -Bonn. Twice he went to listen to the musical festivals at Cologne. But -each return added to his malaise. In the end he left the town. - -"I left Bonn like a fugitive. At midnight I was on the quay of the -Rhine accompanied by my friend M. I was waiting for the steamship which -comes from Cologne, and I did not experience the slightest impression -of pain at the moment of leaving a country-side so flourishing, a -place so beautiful, and a band of young comrades. On the contrary, I -was actually flying from them. I do not wish to begin again to judge -them unjustly, as I have often done. But my nature could find no -satisfaction among them. I was still too timidly wrapt up in myself, -and I had not the strength to stick to my rôle amid so many influences -which were exercising themselves on me. Everything obtruded on me, and -I could not succeed in dominating my surroundings.... I felt in an -oppressive manner that I had done nothing for science, and little for -life, and that I had only clogged myself with faults. The steamer came, -and took me off. I stayed on the bridge in the damp wet night, and as -I watched the little lights which marked the river bank at Bonn slowly -disappear, everything conspired to give me the impression of flight." - -He went to spend a fortnight at Berlin with a comrade whose father was -a rich bourgeois, ready with his censure and his regrets. "Prussia is -lost," this old man affirmed; "the Liberals and the Jews have destroyed -everything with their babblings ... they have destroyed tradition, -confidence, thought itself." Young Nietzsche welcomed these bitter -words. He judged Germany from the students of Bonn and saw his own -sick discomfort everywhere. At the concert he suffered from being in -community of impressions with a low public. In the cafés whither his -hosts took him he would neither drink nor smoke, nor did he address a -word to the people who were introduced to him. - - * * * * * - -He was determined not to see Bonn again, and decided to go to Leipsic -to complete his studies. He arrived in the unknown town and at once -inscribed himself on the roll of the University. The day was a -festival. A Rector harangued the students and told them that on that -same date a hundred years before Goethe had come to inscribe himself -among their elders. "Genius has its own ways," the prudent official -was quick to add, "and it is dangerous to follow them. Goethe was not -a good student; do not take him for model during your years of study." -"Hou, hou!" roared the laughing young men; and Friedrich Nietzsche, -lost in the crowd, was glad at the chance that had brought him thither -at the moment of such an anniversary. - -He resumed work, burnt some verses which had remained among his papers, -and disciplined himself by studying philology according to the most -rigorous methods. Alas, weariness at once laid hold of him again. He -feared a year similar to that at Bonn, and one long complaint filled -his letters and notebooks. Soon there was an end, and this is the event -which delivered his soul. On a bookstall he picked up and turned over -the pages of a work by an author then unknown to him: it was Arthur -Schopenhauer's _The World as Will and Idea._ The vigour of a phrase, -the precision and flair of a word struck him. "I do not know," he -wrote, "what demon whispered to me, 'Go home and take that book with -you.' Hardly had I entered my room when I opened the treasure which I -had thus acquired, and began to submit myself to the influence of that -energetic and sombre genius." - -The introduction to the book is grandiose: it consists of the three -prefaces which the neglected author wrote at long intervals, for each -of the three editions of 1818, 1844, and 1859. They are haughty and -bitter, but in no way unquiet; rich in profound thoughts, and in the -sharpest sarcasm; the lyricism of a Goethe shows itself in union with -the cutting realism of a Bismarck. They are beautiful with that classic -and measured beauty which is rare in German literature. Friedrich -Nietzsche was conquered by their loftiness, their artistic feeling, -their entire liberty. "I think," wrote Schopenhauer, "that the truth -which a man has discovered, or the light which he has projected on some -obscure point, may, one day, strike another thinking being, may move, -rejoice, and console him; and it is to this man one speaks, as other -spirits like to ours have spoken to us and consoled us in this desert -of life." Nietzsche was moved: it seemed to him that a strayed genius -was addressing him alone. - -The world which Schopenhauer describes is formidable. No Providence -guides it, no God inhabits it, inflexible laws draw it in chains -through time and space; but its eternal essence is indifferent to -laws, a stranger to reason: it is that blind Will which urges us into -life. All the phenomena of the universe are rays from that Will, just -as all the days of the year are rays from a single sun. That Will is -invariable, it is infinite; divided, compressed in space. "It nourishes -itself upon itself, since outside of it there is nothing, and since -it is a famishing Will." Therefore, it tortures itself and suffers. -Life is a desire, desire is an unending torment. The good souls of the -nineteenth century believe in the dignity of man, in Progress. They are -the dupes of a superstition. The Will ignores men, the "last comers on -the earth who live on an average thirty years." Progress is a stupid -invention of the philosophers, under the inspiration of the crowd: -Will, an offence to reason, has neither origin nor end; it is absurd, -and the universe which it animates is without sense.... - -Friedrich Nietzsche read greedily the two thousand pages of this -metaphysical pamphlet, which had struck at all the naïve beliefs of -the nineteenth century with terrible force, and had struck from the -head of puerile humanity all its crown of dreams. He experienced a -strange and almost startling emotion. Schopenhauer condemns life, but -so vehement an energy is in him that in his accusing work it is yet -life that one finds and admires. For fourteen days Nietzsche scarcely -slept; he went to bed at two o'clock, rose at six, spent his days -between his book and the piano, meditated, and, in the intervals of -his meditations, composed a _Kyrie._ His soul was full to the brim: it -had found its truth. That truth was hard, but what matter? For a long -time his instinct had warned and prepared him for this. "What do we -seek?" he had written to his sister. "Is it repose or happiness? No, -truth alone, however terrible and evil it may be." He recognised the -sombre universe of Schopenhauer. He had had a presentiment of it in -the reveries of his boyhood, in his readings of Æschylus, of Byron, -and of Goethe; he had caught a glimpse of it across the symbolism -of Christianity. What was this evil Will, the slave of its desires, -but under another name, that fallen nature pictured by the Apostle, -yet more tragic, now that it was deprived of the divine ray which a -Redeemer had left to it? The young man, in alarm at his inexperience -and his temerity, had recoiled before so formidable a vision. Now -he dared to look it in the face. He no longer feared, for he was no -longer alone. By trusting in Schopenhauer's wisdom he satisfied at -last one of the profoundest of his desires--he had a master. He struck -even a graver note in giving to Schopenhauer the supreme name in -which his orphaned childhood had enshrined a mystery of strength and -tenderness--he called him his father. He was exalted; then, suddenly -swept by a desolating regret. Six years earlier Schopenhauer still -lived; he might have approached him, listened to him, told him of his -veneration. Destiny had separated them! Intense joy mixed with intense -sorrow overwhelmed him; and he was shattered by a nervous excitement. -He grew alarmed, and it needed an energetic effort on his part to bring -him back to human life, to the work of the day, to the sleep of the -night. - -Young people experience a need to admire, it is a form of love. When -they admire, when they love, all the servitudes of life become easy to -bear. It was as Schopenhauer's disciple that Friedrich Nietzsche knew -his first happiness. Philology caused him less weariness. Some pupils -of Ritschl, his comrades, founded a society of studies. He joined -with them, and, on the 18th of January, 1866, some weeks after his -great reading of Schopenhauer, he expounded to them the result of his -researches on the manuscripts and the _variæ lectiones_ of Theognis. -He spoke with vigour and freedom, and was applauded. Nietzsche liked -success and tasted it with the simple vanity which he always avowed. He -was happy. When he brought his memoir to Ritschl and was congratulated -very warmly upon it, he was happier yet. He wished to become, and in -fact did become, his master's favourite pupil. - -No doubt he had not ceased to consider philology as an inferior duty, -as a mere intellectual exercise and means of livelihood, and his soul -was hardly satisfied; but what vast soul is ever satisfied? Often, -after a day of parching labour, he was melancholy, but what young and -ardent soul is ignorant of melancholy? At least his sadness had ceased -to be mournful, and a fragment of a letter like the following, which -opens with a complaint and ends in enthusiastic emotion, suggests an -excessive plenitude rather than pain. - -"Three things are my consolations," he wrote in April, 1866. "Rare -consolations! My Schopenhauer, the music of Schumann, and lastly -solitary walks. Yesterday a heavy storm gathered in the sky; I hastened -towards a neighbouring hill (it is called Leusch, can you explain the -word to me?), I climbed it; at the summit I found a hut and a man, who, -watched by his children, was cutting the throats of two lambs. The -storm broke in all its power, discharging thunder and hail, and I felt -inexpressibly well, full of strength and _élan,_ and I realised with a -wonderful clearness that to understand Nature one must, as I had just -done, go to her to be saved, far from all worries and all our heavy -constraints. What mattered to me, then, man and his troubled Will! What -mattered to me then the Eternal _Thou Shalt_ and _Thou Shalt Not!_ How -different are lightning, storm, and hail, free powers without ethics! -How happy they are, how strong they are, those pure wills which the -mind has not troubled!" - -At the beginning of the summer of 1866 Nietzsche was spending all -his days in the library of Leipsic, engaged in deciphering difficult -Byzantine manuscripts. Suddenly he allowed his attention to be -distracted by a spectacle of a grandiose kind; Prussia, discreetly -active for fifty years, reappeared in a warlike rôle. Frederick the -Great's kingdom once more found a chief: Bismarck, the passionate, -irascible, and crafty aristocrat who wished to realise at last the -dream of all Germans and to found an empire above all the little -States. He quarrelled with Austria, whom Moltke humiliated after twenty -days of fighting. "I am finishing my _Theognidea_ for the _Rheinisches -Museum_ during the week of Sadowa," we read in a memorandum made by -Nietzsche. He did not stop his work, but political preoccupations -entered into his thoughts. He felt the pride of national victory; he -recognised himself as a Prussian patriot, and a little astonishment -was mixed with his pleasure: "For me this is a wholly new and rare -enjoyment," he writes. Then he reflected on this victory, and discerned -its consequences, which he enunciated with lucidity. - -"We hold the cards; but as long as Paris remains the centre of Europe, -things will remain in the old condition. It is inevitable that we -should make an effort to upset this equilibrium, or at least to try to -upset it. If we fail, then let us hope to fall, each of us, on a field -of battle, struck by some French shell." - -He is not troubled by this view of the future, which satisfies his -taste for the sombre and the pathetic. On the contrary, he grows -animated and is ready to admire. - -"At certain moments," he writes, "I make an effort to free my opinions -from the turn which my momentary passion and my natural sympathies for -Prussia give them, and then what I see is this: an action conducted -with grandeur by a State, by a chief; an action carved out of the true -substance of which history is really made; assuredly by no means moral; -but, for him who contemplates it, sufficiently edifying and beautiful." - -Was it not a similar sentiment which he had experienced on that hill -with the queer name, Leusch, on a stormy day, by the side of that -peasant who was cutting the throats of two lambs with such calm -simplicity? _"Free powers, without ethics! How happy they are, how -strong, those pure Wills which the mind has not troubled!"_ - - * * * * * - -The second year which he passed at Leipsic was perhaps the happiest -of his life. He enjoyed to the full that intellectual security which -his adhesion to his master Schopenhauer assured him. "You ask me for -a vindication of Schopenhauer," he wrote to his friend Deussen; "I -will simply say this to you: I look life in the face, with courage and -liberty, since my feet have found firm soil. The waters of trouble, to -express myself in images, do not sweep me out of my road, because they -come no higher than my head; I am at home in those obscure regions." - -It was a year of composure and of comradeship. He did not worry -himself about public affairs. Prussia, on the morrow of her victory, -fell back to the low level of everyday life. The babblings of -the tribune and the press succeeded the action of great men, and -Nietzsche turned away from it all. "What a multitude of mediocre -brains are occupied with things of real importance and real effect!" -he writes. "It is an alarming thought." Perhaps he regretted having -allowed himself to be seduced by a dramatic incident. Nevertheless -he knew--Schopenhauer had taught him--that history and politics are -illusory games. He had not forgotten; he wrote in order to affirm -his thought, and to define the mediocre meaning and value of human -agitations. - -"What is history but the endless struggle for existence of innumerable -and diverse interests? The great 'ideas' in which many people believe -that they find the directing forces of this combat are but reflections -which pass across the surface of the swelling sea. They have no action -on the sea; but it often happens that they embellish the waves and -thus deceive him who contemplates them. It matters little whether this -light emanates from a moon, a sun, or a lighthouse; the waves will be a -little more or a little less lit up--that is all." - -His enthusiasm had no other object but art and thought, the study of -the genius of antiquity. He conceived a passion for his master Ritschl: -"That man is my scientific conscience," said he. He took part in the -friendly soirées of the Verein, spoke, and discussed. He planned more -undertakings than he had time for, and then proposed them to his -friends. He elected to study the sources of Diogenes Laertius--that -compiler who has preserved for us such precious information with regard -to the philosophers of Greece. He dreamed of composing a memoir which -should be sagacious and rigorous, but also beautiful: "All important -work," he wrote to Deussen, "you must have felt it yourself, exercises -a moral influence. The effort to concentrate a given material, and to -find a harmonious form for it, I compare to a stone thrown into our -inner life: the first circle is narrow, but it multiplies itself, and -other more ample circles disengage themselves from it." - -In April Nietzsche collected and systematised his notes, wholly -preoccupied with this concern for beauty. He did not wish to write -in the manner of scholars who misunderstand the savour of words, the -equilibrium of phrases. He wished to _write,_ in the difficult and -classical sense of the word. - -"The scales fall from my eyes," he wrote; "I have lived too long in -a state of innocence as regards style. The categorical imperative, -'Thou shalt write, it is necessary that thou writest,' has awakened -me. I have tried to write well It is a thing which I had forgotten -since leaving Pforta, and all at once my pen lost its shape between -my fingers. I was impotent, out of temper. The principles of style -enunciated by Lessing, Lichtenberger, Schopenhauer were scolding in -my ears. At least I remembered, and it was my consolation, that these -three authorities agreed in saying that it is difficult to write well, -that no man naturally writes well, and that one must, in order to -acquire a style, work strenuously, hew blocks of hard wood.... Above -all, I wish to imprison in my style some joyous spirits; I shall apply -myself to it as I apply myself upon the keyboard, and I hope to play -at length, not only the pieces that I have learnt, but free fantasies, -free as far as possible, though always logical and beautiful." - -A sentimental joy completed his happiness: he found a friend. Nietzsche -had long been faithful to the comrades of his early childhood: one -was dead, and the other, their lives and occupations having been -separate for ten years, was becoming a stranger to him. At Pforta he -had been fond of the studious Deussen, the faithful Gersdorff: the -one was studying at Tübingen, the other at Berlin. He wrote to them -with much zeal, but an exchange of letters could not satisfy that need -for friendship which was an instinct of his soul. Finally, he made -the acquaintance of Erwin Rohde, a vigorous and perspicacious spirit; -he liked him at once; he admired him, for he was incapable of loving -without admiring; he adorned him with the sublime qualities with -which his soul overflowed. Every evening, after laborious hours, the -young men came together. They walked or rode, talking incessantly. "I -experience for the first time," wrote Nietzsche, "the pleasure of a -friendship founded on a moral and philosophic groundwork. Ordinarily, -we dispute strongly, for we are in disagreement on a multitude of -points. But it suffices for our conversation to take a more profound -turn; and then at once our dissonant thoughts are silenced, and nothing -resounds between us but a peaceable and total accord." - -They had promised each other that they would spend their first holiday -weeks together. At the beginning of August, being both free, they left -Leipsic and sought isolation in walks in a tramp on the frontiers of -Bohemia. It is a region of wooded heights, which recalls, with less -grandeur, the Vosges. Nietzsche and Rohde led the life of wandering -philosophers. Their luggage was light, they had no books, they walked -from inn to inn, and, throughout the days unspoilt by a care, they -talked about Schopenhauer, about Beethoven, about Germany, about -Greece. They judged and condemned, with youthful promptitude; they were -never weary of defaming their science. "Oh childishness of erudition!" -they said. "It was a poet, it was Goethe, who discovered the genius -of Greece. He it was who held it up to the Germans, absorbed always -on the confines of a dream, as an example of rich and clear beauty, a -model of perfect form. The professors followed him. They have explained -the ancient world, and, under their myopic eyes, that wonderful work -of art has become the object of a science. What is there that they -have not studied? In Tacitus, the ablative case, the evolution of -the gerund in the Latin authors of Africa; they have analysed to the -last detail the language of the _Iliad,_ determined in what respect -it is connected with this other and that other Aryan language. What -does it all signify? The beauty of the _Iliad_ is unique; it was felt -by Goethe, and they ignore it. We shall stop this game; that will be -our task. We shall go back to the tradition of Goethe; we shall not -dissect the Greek genius, we shall revitalise it, and teach men to -feel it. For long enough the scholars have carried out their minute -enquiries. It is time to make an end. The work of our generation shall -be definitive; our generation shall enter into possession of the grand -legacy transmitted by the past. And science, too, must serve progress." - -After a month of conversation, the young men left the forest and went -to Meiningen, a little town in which the musicians of the Pessimist -school were giving a series of concerts. A letter of Friedrich -Nietzsche's has preserved a chronicle of the performance. "The Abbé -Liszt presided," he wrote. "They played a symphonic poem by Hans von -Bülow, _Nirvana,_ an explanation of which was given on the programme -in maxims from Schopenhauer. But the music was awful. Liszt, on the -contrary, succeeded remarkably in finding the character of the Indian -_Nirvana_ in some of his religious compositions; for example, in his -_Beatitudes."_ Nietzsche and Rohde separated on the morrow of these -festivals, and returned to their families. - - * * * * * - -Alone at Naumburg, Nietzsche took up work of various kinds and read -widely. He studied the works of the young German philosophers, -Hartmann, Dühring, Lange, Bahnsen; he admired them all, with the -indulgence of a brother-in-arms, and dreamt of making their -acquaintance and collaborating with them in a review which they should -found together. He projected an essay, perhaps a sort of manifesto -upon the man whom he wished to give to his contemporaries as a master, -Schopenhauer. "Of all the philosophers," he writes, "he is the truest." -No false sensibility shackles his mind. He is brave, it is the first -quality of a chief. Friedrich Nietzsche notes rapidly: "Ours is the -age of Schopenhauer: a sane pessimism founded upon the ideal; the -seriousness of manly strength, the taste for what is simple and sane. -Schopenhauer is the philosopher of a revived classicism, of a Germanic -Hellenism...." - -He was working ardently, and then, suddenly, his life was turned upside -down. He had been exempted from military service on account of his very -short sight. But the Prussian army in 1867 had great need of men; and -he was enrolled in a regiment of artillery, in barracks at Naumburg. - -Nietzsche made the best of this vexation. It was always a maxim of -his that a man should know how to utilise the chances of his life, -extracting from them, as an artist does, the elements of a richer -destiny. Therefore, since he had to be a soldier, he resolved that -he would learn his new trade. The military obligation had, in this -time of war, a solemnity which it lacks to-day. Nietzsche thought it -a good and healthy thing that he should shut his dictionaries and -get on horseback; that he should become an artilleryman and a good -artilleryman, a sort of ascetic in the service of his fatherland, -_etwas_ ασκησις _zu treiben,_ he wrote in his German, mottled -with Greek. - -"This life is full of inconvenience," he wrote again, "but, tasted as -one would an _entremets,_ it impresses me as altogether profitable. It -is a constant appeal to the energy of man which has a value above all -as an antidote against that paralysing scepticism the effects of which -we have observed together. In the barracks one learns to know one's -nature, to know what it has to give among strange men, the greater -part of whom are very rough.... Hitherto it has appeared to me that -all have felt kindly towards me, captain and privates alike; moreover, -everything that I must do, I do it with zeal and interest. Has one not -reason to be proud, if one be noted, among thirty recruits, as the best -rider? In truth, that is worth more than a philological diploma." - -Whereupon he cites in full the fine Latin and Ciceronian testimonial -written by old Ritschl in praise of his memoir, _De fontibus Laertii -Diogenii._ He is happy in his success and does not conceal his pleasure -at it. The fact amuses him. "Thus are we made," he writes; "we know -what such praise is worth, and, in spite of everything, an agreeable -chuckle puts a grimace on our countenance." - -This valiant mood lasted only a short time. Nietzsche was soon to avow -that an artilleryman on horseback is a very unhappy animal when he has -literary tastes, and reflected in the mess-room on the problems of -Democritus. - -He deplored his slavery, and was delivered from it by an accident. He -fell from his horse and injured his side. He suffered, but he was able -to study and meditate at leisure, which was what he liked in life. -However, when the exquisite May days arrived and he had been laid -up for a long month, he grew impatient and sighed for the hours of -exercise. "I who used to ride the most difficult mounts!" he wrote to -Gersdorff. To distract himself he undertook a short work on a poem of -Simonides, _The Complaint of Danaë._ He corrected the doubtful words in -the text and wrote to Ritschl about a new study: "Since my schooldays," -he wrote, "this beautiful song of _Danaë_ has remained in my memory as -an unforgettable melody: in this time of May can one do better than -become a trifle lyrical oneself? provided that on this occasion at -least you do not find in my essay too 'lyrical' a conjecture." - -_Danaë_ occupied him, and the complaints of the goddess, abandoned with -her child to the caprice of malevolent billows, mingled in his letters -with his own complaints. For he was suffering; his wound remained -open, and a splinter of a bone appeared one day with the discharge of -matter. "I had a queer impression at the sight," he wrote, "and little -by little it became clear to me that my plans for the examination, for -a voyage to Paris, might very easily be thwarted. The frailty of our -being never appears so plainly _ad oculos_ as at the moment when one -has just seen a little piece of one's own skeleton." - -The voyage to Paris, here mentioned, was the last conceived, and the -dearest of his dreams. He caressed the idea of it, and, as he was -never able to keep a joy to himself alone, he must write to Gersdorff -and then to Rohde, and to two other comrades, Kleimpaul and Romundt: -"After the last year of our studies," he said to them, "let us go to -Paris together and spend a winter there: let us forget our learning: -let us dispedantise ourselves (_dépédantisons-nous_); let us make the -acquaintance of the _divin cancan,_ the green absinthe: we will drink -of it; let us go to Paris and live _en camarades,_ and, marching the -boulevards, let us represent Germanism and Schopenhauer down there; -we shall not be altogether idle: from time to time we will send a -little copy to the newspapers, casting a few Parisian anecdotes -athwart the world; after a year and a half, after two years [he never -ceased to prolong the imaginary period], we will come back to pass our -examination." Rohde having promised his company, Nietzsche bore less -impatiently the weariness of a convalescence which lasted until the -summer. - -At last he was cured. In the first days of October, feeling a lively -need for the pleasures which Naumburg had not to offer--music, society, -conversation, the theatre--he reinstalled himself at Leipsic. Both -masters and comrades gave him a warm welcome. His re-entry was happy. -He had scarcely completed his twenty-third year and a glorious dawn -already preceded him. An important review in Berlin asked him for -some historical studies, and he gave them. In Leipsic itself he was -offered the editorship of a musical review: this he refused, although -importuned. _"Nego ac pernego,"_ wrote he to Rohde, now in residence in -another University city. - -He interested himself in everything, except politics. The din and -confusion of men in public meeting assembled was insupportable to him. -"Decidedly," said he, "I am not a ζῶον πολιτικον." And he -wrote to his friend Gersdorff, who had been giving him some information -about Parliamentary intrigues in Berlin: - -"The course of events astonishes me; but I cannot well understand them, -nor take them in, unless I draw out of the crowd and consider apart the -activity of a determined man. Bismarck gives me immense satisfaction. I -read his speeches as though I were drinking a strong wine; I hold back -my tongue that it may not swallow too quickly and that my enjoyment may -last. The machinations of his adversaries, as you relate them to me, -I conceive without difficulty; for it is a necessity that everything -that is small, narrow, sectarian and limited should rebel against such -natures and wage an eternal war upon them." - -Then to so many satisfactions, new and old, was added the greatest -of joys: the discovery of a new genius, Richard Wagner. The whole -of Germany was making the same discovery about this time. Already -she knew and admired this tumultuous man, poet, composer, publicist, -philosopher; a revolutionary at Dresden, a "damned" author at Paris, -a favourite at the Court of Munich; she had discussed his works and -laughed over his debts and his scarlet robes. It was by no means easy -to pass a clear judgment on this life which was a mixture of faith -and insincerity, of meanness and greatness; on this thought which was -sometimes so strong and often so wordy. What kind of man was Richard -Wagner? An uneasy spirit? a genius? One scarcely knew, and Nietzsche -had remained for a long time in a state of indecision. _Tristan -and Isolde_ moved him infinitely; other works disconcerted him. "I -have just read the _Valkyrie,_" he wrote to Gersdorff, in October, -1866, "and I find myself impressed so confusedly that I can reach no -judgment. Its great beauties and _virtutes_ are counterbalanced by so -many defects and deformities equally great; 0_ + a + (-a)_ gives 0, -all calculations made." "Wagner is an insoluble problem," he said on -another occasion. The musician whom he then preferred was Schumann. - -Wagner had the art of imposing his glory on the world. In July, 1868, -he produced at Munich the _Meistersinger,_ that noble and familiar -poem in which the German people, heroes of the action, filled the -stage with their arguments, their sports, their labours, their loves, -and themselves glorified their own art, music. Germany was then -experiencing the proud desire of greatness. She had the confidence and -the _élan_ which dare recognise the genius of an artist. Wagner was -acclaimed; he passed during the last months of 1868 that invisible -border-line above which a man is transfigured and exalted, above glory -itself, into a light of immortality. - -Friedrich Nietzsche heard the _Meistersinger._ He was touched by -its marvellous beauty and his critical fancies vanished. "To be -just towards such a man," he wrote to Rohde, "one must have a little -enthusiasm.... I try in vain to listen to his music in a cold and -reserved frame of mind; every nerve vibrates in me...." This miraculous -art had taken hold of him; he wished that his friends should share his -new passion; he confided his Wagnerian impressions to them: "Last night -at the concert," he wrote, "the overture to the _Meistersinger_ caused -me so lasting a thrill that it was long since I had felt anything like -it." Wagner's sister, Madame Brockhaus, was living in Leipsic. She -was a woman out of the ordinary; and her friends affirmed that they -recognised in her a little of the genius of her brother. Nietzsche -wanted to approach her. This modest desire was soon satisfied. - -"The other evening," he writes to Rohde, "on returning home I found a -letter addressed to me, a very short note: 'If you would care to meet -Richard Wagner come to the Café zum Theater at a quarter to four.--W. -... SCH.' The news, if you will forgive me, positively turned my head, -and I found myself as if tossed about by a whirlwind. It goes without -saying that I went out at once to seek the excellent Windisch, who -was able to give me some further information. He told me that Wagner -was at Leipsic, at his sister's, in the strictest incognito; that the -Press knew nothing about his visit, and that all the servants in the -Brockhaus household were as mute as liveried gravediggers. Madame -Brockhaus, Wagner's sister, had presented to him only one visitor, -Madame Ritschl, whose judgment and penetration of mind you know, thus -allowing herself the pleasure of being proud of her friend before her -brother and proud of her brother before her friend, the happy creature! -While Madame Ritschl was in the room Wagner played the _Lied_ from the -_Meistersinger,_ which you know well; and the excellent lady informed -him that the music was already familiar to her, _mea opera._ Thereupon -pleasure and surprise on the part of Wagner: he expresses a keen desire -to meet me incognito. They decide to invite me for Friday evening. -Windisch explains that that day is impossible to me on account of my -duties, my work, my engagements: and Sunday afternoon is suggested. -We went to the house, Windisch and I, and found the professor's -family there, but not Richard: he had gone out with his vast skull -hidden under some prodigious headdress. I was presented to this very -distinguished family, and received a most cordial invitation for Sunday -evening, which I accepted. - -"I spent the next few days, I assure you, in a highly romantic mood: -and you must admit that this _début,_ this unapproachable hero, have -something about them bordering on the world of legend. - -"With such an important function before me I decide to dress in my -best. It so chanced that my tailor had promised to deliver me on -Sunday a black coat: everything promised well. Sunday was a frightful -day of snow and rain. One shuddered at the idea of leaving the house. -So I was far from displeased to receive a call during the afternoon -from R----, who babbled about the Eleatics and the nature of God in -their philosophy--because as _candidandus_ he is going to take the -thesis prescribed by Abrens, _The Development of the Idea of God down -to Aristotle,_ while Romundt proposes to solve the problem _Of the -Will,_ and thereby to win the University prize. The evening draws on, -the tailor fails to arrive and Romundt departs. I go with him as far -as my tailor's, and entering the shop, I find his slaves very busy -on my coat: they promise that it will be delivered in three hours. -I leave, more content with the course of things; on my way home I -pass Kintschy, read the _Kladderadatsch,_ and find with satisfaction -a newspaper paragraph to the effect that Wagner is in Switzerland, -but that a beautiful house is being built for him at Munich. As for -me, I know that I am about to see him, and that a letter arrived for -him yesterday from the little King, bearing the address: To the great -German composer, Richard Wagner. - -"I return home; no tailor. I read very comfortably a dissertation on -the _Eudocia,_ a little distracted from time to time by a troublesome -though distant noise. At last I hear the sound of knocking at the old -iron grille, which is closed ..." - -It was the tailor; Nietzsche tried on the suit, which fitted him well; -he thanked the journeyman, who, however, stayed on, and asked to be -paid. Nietzsche, being short of money, was of another opinion; the -journeyman repeated his demand, Nietzsche reiterated his refusal; the -journeyman would not yield, went off with the suit, and Nietzsche, left -abashed in his room, considered with displeasure a black frock-coat, -greatly doubting whether it would "do for Richard." Finally he put it -on again: - -"Outside the rain is falling in torrents. A quarter past eight! At half -past Windisch is to meet me at the Café zum Theater. I precipitate -myself into the dark and rainy night, I too a poor man, all in black, -without a dress coat, but in the most romantic of humours. Fortune -favours me; there is something mysterious and unusual in the very -aspect of the streets on this night of snow. - -"We enter the very comfortable parlour of the Brockhaus's; there is -no one there but the closest relations of the family, and we two. I -am introduced to Richard, to whom I express my veneration in a few -words; he asks me very minutely how I became a faithful disciple of -his music, bursts out in invectives against all the productions of -his work, those of Munich, which are admirable, alone excepted; and -gibes of the orchestra conductors who counsel paternally: 'Now, if -you please, a little passion, gentlemen, a little more passion, my -friends!' He imitates the accent of Leipsic very well. - -"How I would like to give you an idea of the pleasures of the evening, -of our enjoyments, which have been so lively, so peculiar, were it -not that even to-day I have not yet recovered my old equilibrium, and -cannot do better than tell you as I chatter along a 'fairy tale.' -Afterwards, before dinner, Wagner played all the principal passages -from the _Meistersinger;_ he himself imitated all the voices: I can -leave you to imagine that much was lost. As a talker he is incredibly -swift and animated, and his abundance and humour are enough to -convulse with gaiety a circle of intimates such as we were. Between -whiles I had a long conversation with him about Schopenhauer. Ah, you -wall understand what a joy it was for me to hear him speak with an -indescribable warmth, explaining what he owes to our Schopenhauer, and -telling me that Schopenhauer, alone among the philosophers, understood -the essence of music. Then he wanted to know what is the present -attitude of the philosophers with regard to Schopenhauer; he laughed -very heartily at the Congress of Philosophers at Prague, and spoke of -philosophical _domesticity._ Afterwards he read us a fragment of his -Memoirs, which he is now writing, a scene from his student-life at -Leipsic, overwhelmingly funny, of which I cannot think even now without -laughing. His mind is amazingly supple and witty. - -"At last, as we were preparing to leave, Windisch and I, he gave me a -very warm handshake, and invited me, in the most friendly fashion, to -pay him a visit, to talk of music and philosophy. He also entrusted -me with the mission of making his music known to his sister and his -parents: a mission which I shall discharge with enthusiasm. I will -write you of the evening at greater length when I am able to review -it from a little further off, and more objectively. To-day, a cordial -greeting and, for your health, my best wishes." - -That day of calm appreciation, which Nietzsche was waiting for, did -not come. He had come in contact with a godlike man. He had felt the -shock of genius, and his soul remained shaken by it. He studied the -theoretical writings of Wagner, which he had hitherto neglected, and -meditated seriously on the idea of the unique work of art which was to -be a synthesis of the scattered beauties of poetry, the plastic arts, -and harmony. He saw the German spirit renovated through the Wagnerian -ideal, and his swift mind went off in that direction. - - * * * * * - -Ritschl said to him one day: "I am going to surprise you. Would -you like to be appointed a Professor in the University of Basle?" -Nietzsche's surprise was, in fact, extreme. He was in his twenty-fourth -year, and had not obtained his final degrees. The astonishing -proposition had to be repeated to him Ritschl explained that he had -received a letter from Basle; he was asked what sort of man was Herr -Friedrich Nietzsche, author of the fine essays published in the -_Rheinisches Museum;_ could he be entrusted with a Chair of Philology? -Ritschl had answered that Herr Friedrich Nietzsche was a young man who -had ability enough to do anything he chose to do. He had even dared to -write that Herr Nietzsche had genius. The matter, though suspended for -the moment, had already gone pretty far. - -Nietzsche listened to the news with infinite anxiety. It made him proud -and yet left him broken-hearted. The whole year of liberty which he -had thought to be still before him suddenly vanished, and with it his -projects of study, of vast reading, of travel. He was losing a happy -life swollen with dreams. How could he reject so flattering an offer? -He had, it appears, contrary to all good sense, a certain hesitation -against which Ritschl had to fight. The old savant felt a real -tenderness for this singular pupil of his, this sagacious philologist, -metaphysician and poet; he loved him and believed in him. But he had -one anxiety: he feared lest Nietzsche, under the incessant solicitation -of instincts almost too numerous and too fine, should disperse his -energy on too many objects and waste his gifts. For four years he -had been iterating in his ears the same counsel: _Restrict yourself -in order to be strong;_ and he now repeated it in pressing terms. -Nietzsche understood, and gave way. He wrote at once to Erwin Rohde: -"As to our Parisian voyage, think of it no longer; it is certain that -I am to be appointed to this Professorship at Basle; I who wished to -study Chemistry! Henceforward I must learn how to renounce. Down there -how much alone I shall be--without a friend whose thought resounds to -mine like beautiful thirds, minor or major!" - -He obtained his final diploma without examination, in consideration of -his past performances and of the unique circumstance. The professors of -Leipsic did not like the notion of examining their colleague of Basle. - -Friedrich Nietzsche remained some weeks at Naumburg with his own -people. The family were full of joy and pride: so young and a -University professor! "What great matter is it?" retorted Nietzsche -impatiently; "there is an usher the more in the world, that is all!" On -April 13th he writes to his friend Gersdorff: - -"Here I am at the last term, the last evening that I shall spend beside -my hearth; to-morrow morning I strike out into the great world; I -enter a profession which is new to me, in an atmosphere heavy and -oppressive with duties and obligations. Once more I must say adieu: -the golden time in which one's activities are free and unfettered; -in which every instant is sovereign; in which art and the world are -spread out before our eyes as a pure spectacle in which we hardly -participate--that time is past beyond recall. Now begins the reign of -the harsh goddess of daily duty. _Bemooster Bursche zieh? ich aus._ ... -You know that poignant student-song. Yes, yes! now comes my turn to be -a philistine! - -"One day or another, here or there, the saying always comes true. -Offices and dignities are not to be accepted with impunity. The whole -thing is to know whether the chains which you are forced to carry -are of iron or of thread. And I still have courage enough to break -some link on occasion, and to risk some plunge or other into the -perilous life. Of the compulsory gibbosity of the professor I do not -as yet discern in myself any trace. To become a philistine, a man of -the crowd, ἄνθρωπος ἄμουσος--Zeus and the Muses preserve -me from such a fate! Moreover, I find it hard to see how I could -contrive to become what I am not. I am more afraid of another kind of -philistinism, the professional species. It is only too natural that a -daily task, an incessant concentration on certain facts and certain -problems, should hang like a weight on the free sensibility of the -mind, and strike at the roots of the philosophic sense. But I imagine -that I can confront this peril more calmly than most philologists: -philosophical seriousness is too deeply rooted in me: the true and -essential problems of life and thought have been too clearly revealed -to me by the great mystagogue Schopenhauer to permit me to be ever -guilty of shameful treachery to the 'Idea.' To vivify my science with -this new blood; to communicate to my hearers that Schopenhauerian -earnestness which glitters on the brow of that sublime thinker--such -is my desire, my audacious hope: I want to be more than a pedagogue to -honest savants. I am thinking of the duties of the masters of our time; -I look forward, and my mind is filled with the thought of that next -generation which follows at our heels. Since we must endure life, let -us at least endeavour so to use it as to give it some worth in the eyes -of others when we are happily delivered from it." - -Friedrich Nietzsche disquieted himself needlessly. If he could have -guessed what the approaching days held for him, his joy would have been -immense. Richard Wagner lived not far from Basle, and was to become his -friend. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER--TRIEBSCHEN - - -Nietzsche installed himself at Basle, selected his domicile, and -exchanged visits with his colleagues. But Richard Wagner was constantly -in his thoughts. Three weeks after his arrival some friends joined with -him in an expedition to the shores of the lake of the Four Cantons. One -morning he left them and set off on foot by the river bank towards the -master's retreat, Triebschen. Triebschen is the name of a little cape -which protrudes into the lake; a solitary villa and a solitary garden, -whose high poplars are seen from afar, occupy its expanse. - -He stopped before the closed gate and rang. Trees hid the house. He -looked around, as he waited, and listened: his attentive ear caught -the resonance of a harmony which was soon muffled up in the noise -of footsteps. A servant opened the door and Nietzsche sent in his -card; then he was left to hear once more the same harmony, dolorous, -obstinate, many times repeated. The invisible master ceased for a -moment, but almost at once was busy again with his experiments, raising -the strain, modulating it, until, by modulating once more, he had -brought back the initial harmony. The servant returned. Herr Wagner -wished to know if the visitor was the same Herr Nietzsche whom he had -met one evening at Leipsic. "Yes," said the young man. "Then would -Herr Nietzsche be good enough to come back at luncheon time?" But -Nietzsche's friends were awaiting him, and he had to excuse himself. -The servant disappeared again, to return with another message. "Would -Herr Nietzsche spend the Monday of Pentecost at Triebschen?" This -invitation he was able to accept and did accept. - -Nietzsche came to know Wagner at one of the finest moments of the -latter's life. The great man was alone, far from the public, from -journalists, and from crowds. He had just carried off and married the -divorced wife of Hans von Bülow, the daughter of Liszt and of Madame -d'Agoult, an admirable being who was endowed with the gifts of two -races. The adventure had scandalised all the Pharisees of old-fashioned -Germany. Richard Wagner was completing his work in retreat: a gigantic -work, a succession of four dramas, every one of which was immense: -a work which was not conceived for the pleasure of men, but for the -trouble and salvation of their souls; a work so prodigious that no -public was worthy to hear it, no company of singers worthy to sing -it, no stage, in short, vast enough or noble enough to make its -representation possible. What matter! The world must stoop to Richard -Wagner; it was not for him to yield to it. He had finished _Rhinegold,_ -and the _Valkyries; Siegfried_ was soon to be completed; and he began -to know the joy of the workman who has mastered his work, and is able -at last to view it as a whole. - -Restlessness and anger were mixed with his joy, for he was not of those -who are content with the approbation of an élite. He had been moved by -all the dreams of men, and he wished in his turn to move all men. He -needed the crowd, wanted to be listened to by it, and never ceased to -call to the Germans, always heavy and slow-footed in following him. -"Aid me," he cries out in his books, "for you begin to be strong. -Because of your strength do not disdain, do not neglect those who have -been your spiritual masters, Luther, Kant, Schiller and Beethoven: I -am the heir of these masters. Assist me. I need a stage where I may -be free; give me it! I need a people who shall listen to me; be that -people! Aid me, it is your duty. And, in return, I will glorify you." - -We may picture this first visit: Nietzsche with his soft manners, -his nervous voice, his fiery and veiled look; his face which was so -youthful in spite of the long, drooping moustache; Wagner in the -strength of the fifty-nine years that he carried without sign of -weakness, overflowing with intuitions and experiences, desires and -expectations, exuberant in language and gesture. What was their first -interview like? _We_ have no record of it, but no doubt Wagner repeated -what he was writing in his books, and said imperiously: "Young man, you -too must help me." - -The night was fine and conversation spirited. When it was time for -Nietzsche to go, Wagner desired to accompany his guest on his way home -along the river. They went out together. Nietzsche's joy was great. The -want from which he had long suffered was now being supplied; he had -needed to love, to admire, to listen. At last he had met a man worthy -to be his master; at last he had met him for whom no admiration, no -love could be too strong. He gave himself up entirely and resolved -to serve this solitary and inspired being, to fight for him against -the inert multitude, against the Germany of the Universities, of the -Churches, of the Parliaments, and of the Courts. What was Wagner's -impression? No doubt he too was happy. From the very beginning he had -recognised the extraordinary gifts of his young visitor. He could -converse with him; and to converse means to give and to receive. And so -few men had been able to afford him that joy. - -On the 22nd of May, eight days after this first visit, a few very -intimate friends came from Germany to Triebschen to celebrate the first -day of their master's sixtieth year. Nietzsche was invited, but had -to decline, for he was preparing his opening lecture and did not like -to be distracted at his task. He was anxious to express straightway -the conception that he had formed of his science and of its teaching. -For his subject he took the Homeric problem, that problem which is an -occasion of division between scholars who analyse antiquity and artists -who delight in it. His argument was that the scholars must resolve this -conflict by accepting the judgment of the artists. Their criticism, -fecund in useful historical results, had restored the legend and the -vast frame of the two poems. But it had decided nothing, and could have -decided nothing. After all, the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ were there -before the world in clear shapes, and if Goethe chose to say: "The two -poems are the work of a single poet "--the scholar had no reply. His -task was modest, but useful and deserving of esteem. Let us not forget, -said Nietzsche at the conclusion of his inaugural lecture, how but a -few years ago these marvellous Greek masterpieces lay buried beneath an -enormous accumulation of prejudices. The minute labour of our students -has saved them for us. Philology is neither a Muse nor a Grace; she has -not created this enchanted world, it is not she who has composed this -immortal music. But she is its virtuoso, and we have to thank her that -these accents, long forgotten and almost indecipherable, resound again, -and that is surely a high merit. "And as the Muses formerly descended -among the heavy and wretched Bœotian peasants, this messenger comes -to-day into a world filled with gloomy and baneful shapes, filled with -profound and incurable sufferings, and consoles us by evoking the -beautiful and luminous forms of the Gods, the outlines of a marvellous, -an azure, a distant, a fortunate country...." - -Nietzsche was highly applauded by the bourgeois of Basle, who had -come in great numbers to hear the young master whose genius had been -announced. His success pleased him, but his thoughts went otherwhere, -towards another marvellous, azure, and distant land--Triebschen. On the -4th of June he received a note: - -"Come and sleep a couple of nights under our roof," wrote Wagner. "We -want to know what you are made of. Little joy I have so far from my -German compatriots. Come and save the abiding _faith_ which I still -cling to, in what I call, with Goethe and some others, German liberty." - -Nietzsche was able to spare these two days and henceforward was a -familiar of the master's. He wrote to his friends: - -"Wagner realises all our desires: a rich, great, and magnificent -spirit; an energetic character, an enchanting man, worthy of all love, -ardent for all knowledge. ... But I must stop; I am chanting a pæan.... - -"I beg you," he says further, "not to believe a word of what is written -about Wagner by the journalists and the musicographers. No one in the -world knows him, no one can judge him, since the whole world builds on -foundations which are not his, and is lost in his atmosphere. Wagner -is dominated by an idealism so absolute, a humanity so moving and so -profound, that I feel in his presence as if I were in contact with -divinity...." - - * * * * * - -Richard Wagner had written, at the request of Louis II., King of -Bavaria, a short treatise on social metaphysics. This singular work, -which had been conceived to fascinate a young and romantic prince, was -carefully withheld from publicity, and lent only to intimates. Wagner -gave it to Nietzsche, and few things surely that the latter ever read -went home more deeply. As traces of the impression he received from it -are to be discovered in his work down to the very end, it will be worth -our while to give some idea of its nature. - -Wagner starts by explaining an old error of his: in 1848 he had been -a Socialist. Not that he had ever welcomed the ideal of a levelling -of men; his mind, avid of beauty and order, in other words, of -superiorities, could not have welcomed a notion of the kind. But he -hoped that a humanity liberated from the baser servitudes would rise -with less effort to an understanding of art. In this he was mistaken, -as he now understood. - -"My friends, despite their fine courage," he wrote, "were vanquished; -the emptiness of their effort proved to me that they were the victims -of a basic error and that they had asked from the world what the world -could not give them." - -His view cleared and he recognised that the masses are powerless, -their agitations vain, their co-operation illusory. He had believed -them capable of introducing into history a progress of culture. Now he -saw that they could not collaborate towards the mere maintenance of a -culture already acquired. They experience only such needs as are gross, -elementary, and short-lived. For them all noble ends are unattainable. -And the problem which reality obliges us to solve is this: how are we -to contrive things so that the masses shall serve a culture which must -always be beyond their comprehension, and serve it with zeal and love, -even to the sacrifice of life? All politics are comprised within this -question, which appears insoluble, and yet is not. Consider Nature: -no one understands her ends; and yet all beings serve her. How does -Nature obtain their adhesion to life? She deceives her creatures. She -puts them in hope of an immutable and ever-delayed happiness. She -gives them those instincts which constrain the humblest of animals to -lengthy sacrifices and voluntary pains. She envelops in illusion all -living beings, and thus persuades them to struggle and to suffer with -unalterable constancy. - -Society, wrote Wagner, ought to be upheld by similar artifices. It is -illusions that assure its duration, and the task of those who rule men -is to maintain and to propagate these conserving illusions. Patriotism -is the most essential. Every child of the people should be brought up -in love of the King, the living symbol of the fatherland, and this -love must become an instinct, strong enough to render the most sublime -abnegation an easy thing. - -The patriotic illusion assures the permanence of the State but does -not suffice to guarantee a high culture. It divides humanity, it -favours cruelty, hatred, and narrowness of thought. The King, whose -glance dominates the State, measures its limits, and is aware of -purposes which extend beyond it. Here a second illusion is necessary, -the religious illusion whose dogmas symbolise a profound unity and a -universal love. The King must sustain it among his subjects. - -The ordinary man, if he be penetrated with this double illusion, can -live a happy and a worthy life: his way is made clear, he is saved. -But the life of the prince and his counsellors is a graver and a more -dangerous thing. They propagate the illusions, therefore they judge -them. Life appears to them unveiled, and they know how tragic a thing -it is. "The great man, the exceptional man," writes Wagner, "finds -himself practically every day in the same condition in which the -ordinary man despairs of life, and has recourse to suicide." The prince -and the aristocracy which surrounds him, his nobles, are forearmed by -their valour against so cowardly a temptation. Nevertheless, they -experience a bitter need to "turn their back on the world." They desire -for themselves a restful illusion, of which they may be at the same -time the authors and the accessories. Here art intervenes to save them, -not to exalt the naïve enthusiasm of the people, but to alleviate the -unhappy life of the nobles and to sustain their valour. "Art," writes -Richard Wagner, addressing Louis II., "I present to my very dear friend -as the promised and benignant land. If Art cannot lift us in a real and -complete manner above life, at least it lifts us in life itself to the -very highest of regions. It gives life the appearance of a game, it -withdraws us from the common lot, it ravishes and consoles us." - -"Only yesterday"--wrote Nietzsche to Gersdorff on the 4th of August, -1869--"I was reading a manuscript which Wagner confided to me, _Of -the State and Religion,_ a treatise full of grandeur, composed in -order to explain to 'his young friend,' the little King of Bavaria, -his particular way of understanding the State and Religion. Never did -any one speak to his King in a tone more worthy, more philosophical; -I felt myself moved and uplifted by that ideality which the spirit of -Schopenhauer seems constantly to inspire. Better than any other mortal, -the King should understand the tragic essence of life." - - * * * * * - -In September, Friedrich Nietzsche, after a short stay in Germany, -returned to a life divided between Basle and Triebschen. At Basle -he had his work, his pupils, who listened to him with attention, -the society of amiable colleagues. His wit, his musical talent, his -friendship with Richard Wagner, his elegant manners and appearance, -procured him a certain prestige. The best houses liked his company, -and he did not refuse their invitations. But all the pleasures of -society are less acceptable than the simplest friendship, and Nietzsche -had not a single friend in this honest bourgeois city; at Triebschen -alone was he satisfied. - -"Now," he writes to Erwin Rohde, who was living at Rome, "I, too, have -my Italy, but I am able to visit it only on Saturdays and Sundays. My -Italy is called Triebschen, and I already feel as if it were my home. -Recently I have been there four times running, and into the bargain -a letter travels the same road almost every week. My dear friend, -what I see and hear and learn there I find it impossible to tell you. -Schopenhauer and Goethe, Pindar and Æschylus are, believe me, still -alive." - -Each of his returns was an occasion of melancholy. A feeling of -solitude depressed him. He confided in Erwin Rohde, speaking at the -same time of the hopes he had in his work. - -"Alas, dear friend," he said, "I have very few satisfactions, and -solitary, always solitary, I must ruminate on them all within myself. -Ah! I should not fear a good illness, if I could purchase at that price -a night's conversation with you. Letters are so little use! ... Men are -constantly in need of midwives, and almost all go to be delivered in -taverns, in colleges where little thoughts and little projects are as -plentiful as litters of kittens. But when we are full of our thought -no one is there to aid us, to assist us at the difficult accouchment: -sombre and melancholy, we deposit in some dark hole our birth of -thought, still heavy and shapeless. The sun of friendship does not -shine upon them." - -"I am becoming a virtuoso in the art of solitary walking," he says -again; and he adds: "My friendship has something pathological about -it." Nevertheless he is happy in the depths of his being; he says so -himself one day, and warns his friend Rohde against his own letters: - -"Correspondence has this that is vexatious about it: one would like -to give the best of oneself, whereas, in fact, one gives what is most -ephemeral, the accord and not the eternal melody. Each time that I sit -down to write to you, the saying of Hölderlin (the favourite author -of my schooldays) comes back to my mind: 'Denn liebend giebt der -Sterbliche _vom Besten!_' And, as well as I remember, what have you -found in my last letters? Negations, contrarieties, singularities, -solitudes. Nevertheless, Zeus and the divine sky of autumn know it, a -powerful current carries me towards positive ideas, each day I enjoy -exuberant hours which delight me with full perceptions, with real -conceptions--in such instants of exalting impressions, I never miss -sending you a long letter full of thoughts and of vows; and I fling it -athwart the blue sky, trusting, for its carriage towards you, to the -electricity which is between our souls." - -And we can get a glimpse of these positive ideas, these precious -impressions, because we are in possession of all the notes and the -blunders of the young man who was acquiring, at the price of constant -effort, strength and mastery. - -"My years of study," he wrote to Ritschl, "what have they been for me? -A luxurious sauntering across the domains of philology and art; hence -my gratitude is especially lively at this moment that I address you who -have been till now the 'destiny' of my life; and hence I recognise how -necessary and opportune was the offer which changed me from a wandering -into a fixed star, and obliged me to taste anew the satisfaction of -galling but regular work, of an unchanging but certain object. A -man's labour is quite another thing, when the holy _anangkei_ of his -profession helps him; how peaceful is his slumber, and, awakening, -how sure is his knowledge of what the day demands. There, there is no -philistinism. I feel as if I were gathering a multitude of scattered -pages in a book." - -_The Origin of Tragedy_ proves to be the book the guiding ideas of -which Nietzsche was now elaborating. Greek thought remains the centre -round which his thought forms, and he meditates, in audacious fashion, -on its history. A true historian, he thinks, should grasp its ensemble -in a rapid view. "All the great advances in Philology," he writes in -his notes, "are the issue of a creative gaze." The eyes of a Goethe -discovered a Greece clear and serene. Being still under the domination -of his genius, we continue to perceive the image which he has put -before us. But we should seek and discover for ourselves. Goethe -fixed his gaze on the centuries of Alexandrine culture. Nietzsche -neglects these. He prefers the rude and primitive centuries, whither -his instinct, since his eighteenth year, had led him when he elected -to study the distiches of the aristocrat, Theognis of Megara. There he -inhales an energy, a strength of thought, of action, of endurance, of -infliction; a vital poetry, vital dreams which rejoice his soul. - -Finally, in this very ancient Greece, he finds again, or thinks that -he finds again, the spirit of Wagner, his master. Wagner wishes to -renew tragedy, and, by using the theatre, as it were, as a spiritual -instrument, to reanimate the diminished sense of poetry in the human -soul. The "tragic" Greeks had a similar ambition; they wished to -raise their race and ennoble it again by the most striking evocation -of myths. Their enterprise was a sublime one, but it failed, for the -merchants of the Piræus, the democracy of the towns, the vulgar herd of -the market-place and of the port, did not care for a lyrical art which -stipulated a too lofty manner of thought, too great a nobleness in -deed. The noble families were vanquished and tragedy ceased to exist. -Richard Wagner encounters similar enemies--they are the democrats, -insipid thinkers, and base prophets of well-being and peace. - -"Our world is being judaised, our prattling _plebs,_ given over to -politics, is hostile to the idealistic and profound art of Wagner," -writes Nietzsche to Gersdorff. "His chivalrous nature is contrary to -them. Is Wagner's art, as, in other times, Æschylus's art, to suffer -defeat?" Friedrich Nietzsche is always occupied with a like combat. - -He unfolds these very new views to his master. "We must renew the -idea of Hellenism," he says to him; "we live on commonplaces which -are false. We speak of the 'Greek joy,' the 'Greek serenity'; this -joy, this serenity, are tardy fruits and of poor savour, the graces of -centuries of servitudes. The Socratic subtlety, the Platonic sweetness, -already bear the mark of the decline. We must study the older -centuries, the seventh, the sixth. Then we touch the naïve force, the -original sap. Between the poems of Homer, which are the romance of her -infancy, and the dramas of Æschylus, which are the act of her manhood, -Greece, not without long effort, enters into the possession of her -instincts and disciplines. It is the knowledge of these times which we -should seek, because they resemble our own. Then the Greeks believed, -as do the Europeans of to-day, in the fatality of natural forces; and -they believed also that man must create for himself his virtues and his -gods. They were animated by a tragic sentiment, a brave pessimism, -which did not turn them away from life. Between them and us there is a -complete parallel and correspondence; pessimism and courage, and the -will to establish a new beauty...." - -Richard Wagner interested himself in the ideas of the young man, and -associated him more and more intimately in his life. One day, Friedrich -Nietzsche being present, he received from Germany the news that the -_Rhinegold_ and the _Valkyries,_ badly executed far from his advice and -direction, had had a double failure. He was sad and did not hide his -disappointment; he was afflicted by this depreciation of the immense -work which he had destined for a non-existent theatre and public, and -which now crumbled before his eyes. His noble suffering moved Nietzsche. - -Nietzsche took part in his master's work. Wagner was then composing -the music of the _Twilight of the Gods._ Page after page the work -grew, without haste or delay, as though from the regular overflowing -of an invisible source. But no effort absorbed Wagner's thought, and, -during these same days, he wrote an account of his life. Friedrich -Nietzsche received the manuscript with directions to have it secretly -printed, and to supervise the publication of an edition limited to -twelve copies. He was asked to oblige with more intimate services. At -Christmas, Wagner was preparing a Punch and Judy show for his children. -He wanted to have pretty figurines, devils and angels. Madame Wagner -begged Nietzsche to purchase them in Basle. "I forget that you are a -professor, a doctor, and a philologist," she said graciously, "and -remember only your five-and-twenty years." He examined the figurines -of Basle, and, not finding them to his liking, wrote to Paris for the -most frightful devils, the most beatific angels imaginable. Friedrich -Nietzsche, admitted to the solemnity of the Punch and Judy show, spent -the Christmas festival with Wagner, his wife and family, in the most -charming of intimacies. Cosima Wagner made him a present; she gave -him a French edition of Montaigne, with whom, it seems, he was not -acquainted, and of whom he soon became so fond. She was imprudent that -day. Montaigne is perilous reading for a disciple. - - * * * * * - -"This winter I have to give two lectures on the æsthetic of the Greek -tragedies," wrote Nietzsche, about September, to his friend the Baron -von Gersdorff; "and Wagner will come from Triebschen to hear them." -Wagner did not go, but Nietzsche was listened to by a very large public. - -He described an unknown Greece, vexed by the mysteries and -intoxications of the god Dionysius, and through its trouble, through -this very intoxication, initiated into poetry, into song, into -tragic contemplation. It seems that he wished to define this eternal -romanticism, always alike to him, whether in Greece of the sixth -century B.C. or in Europe of the thirteenth century; the same, surely, -which inspired Richard Wagner in his retreat at Triebschen. Nietzsche, -however, abstained from mentioning this latter name. - -"The Athenian coming to assist at the tragedy of the great Dionysos -bore in his heart some spark of that elementary force from which -tragedy was born. This is the irresistible outburst of springtime, -that fury and delirium of mingled emotions which sweeps in springtime -across the souls of all simple peoples and across the whole life of -nature. It is an accepted thing that festivals of Easter and Carnival, -travestied by the Church, were in their origin spring festivals. Every -such fact can be traced to a most deep-rooted instinct: the old soil -of Greece bore on its bosom enthusiastic multitudes, full of Dionysos; -in the Middle Ages in the same way the dances of the Feast of Saint -John and of Saint Vitus drew out great crowds who went singing, leaping -and dancing from town to town, gathering recruits in each. It is, of -course, open to the doctors to regard these phenomena as diseases of -the crowd: we content ourselves with saying that the drama of antiquity -was the flower of such a disease, and if that of our modern art does -not fountain forth from that mysterious source, that is its misfortune." - -In his second lecture Nietzsche studied the end of tragic art. It is a -singular phenomenon; all the other arts of Greece slowly and gloriously -declined. Tragedy had no decline. After Sophocles it disappeared, -as though a catastrophe had destroyed it. Nietzsche recounts the -catastrophe, and names the destroyer, Socrates. - -He dared to denounce the most revered of men. It was he, the poor -Athenian, a man of the people, an ugly scoffer, who suppressed the -ancient poetry. Socrates was neither an artist nor a philosopher; -he did not write, he did not teach, he scarcely spoke; seated in -the public place, he stopped the passers-by, astonished them by his -pleasant logic, convinced them of their ignorance and absurdity, -laughed, and obliged them to laugh at themselves. His irony dishonoured -the naïve beliefs which gave strength to the ancestors of the race, -the myths which upheld their virtues. He despised tragedy, and made -open declaration of his contempt for it; that was enough. Euripides was -troubled, and suppressed his inspiration, while the young Plato, who -perhaps would have surpassed Sophocles himself, listened to the new -master, burnt his verses, and renounced art. He disconcerted the old -instinctive lyrical humanity of Greece; and, by the voice of Plato, -whom he had seduced, he imposed the illusion, unknown to the ancients, -of Nature as accessible to the reason of man, altogether penetrated -by it, and always harmonious. Friedrich Nietzsche was to insert these -pages in his book upon _The Birth of Tragedy._ - -This charge pronounced against Socrates surprised his audience in -Basle. Wagner knew it, and in September, 1870, wrote to Nietzsche an -enthusiastic but extremely shrewd letter. - -"As for me, I cry out to you: That's it! you have got hold of the -truth, you touch the exact point with keen accuracy. I await with -admiration the series of work in which you will combat the errors of -popular dogmatism. But none the less you make me anxious, and I hope -with all my heart that you are not going to come a cropper. I would -also like to advise you not to expound your audacious views, which must -be so difficult to establish, in short brochures of limited range. -You are, I feel, profoundly penetrated with your ideas: you must -gather them together into a larger book of much wider scope. Then you -will find and will give us the _mot juste_ on the divine blunders of -Socrates and Plato, those creators so wonderful as to exact adoration -even from us who forswear them! Our words, my dear friend, swell into -hymns when we consider the incomprehensible harmony of those essences, -so strange to our world! And what pride and hope animate us when, -returning on ourselves, we feel strongly and clearly that we can and -should achieve a work, outside the reach even of those masters!" - -None of the letters addressed by Nietzsche to Wagner have been -published. Have they been lost? Were they destroyed? Or are they -merely refused by Madame Cosima Wagner, who is perhaps not incapable -of rancour? The facts are unknown. However, we may be certain that -Nietzsche begged Wagner to ally himself with him, to aid him in -rendering clear those difficult views of his. Wagner replied: - -"MY DEAR FRIEND,--How good it is to be able to exchange such letters! -There is no one to-day with whom I can talk as seriously as with -you--the Unique[1] excepted. God only knows what would happen to me -but for that! But I should be able to give myself up to the pleasure -of fighting with you against "Socratism" only on one condition, that -of having an enormous deal of time at my disposal, free from the -temptation of any better project--to speak quite plainly, I should have -to abandon all creative work. Division of labour is a good thing in -this connection. You can do much for me: you can take on your shoulders -a full half of the task assigned to me by fate. And so doing, you will -perhaps achieve the whole of your own destiny. I have never had much -success in my essays in Philology: you have never had much success in -your essays in music: and it is well that things should be so. As a -musician you would have come to much the same end to which I should -have come had I stuck obstinately to Philology. But Philology remains -in my blood; it directs me in my work as a musician. As for you, remain -a philologist, and keeping to Philology, allow yourself to be directed -by music. I mean what I say in a very serious spirit. You have taught -me within what base preconceptions a professional philologist is to-day -expected to imprison himself--I have taught you in what an unspeakable -den a genuine 'absolute' musician must to-day waste himself. Show us -what Philology ought to be, and help me to prepare the way for that -great 'Renaissance' in which Plato will embrace Homer, and in which -Homer, penetrated by the ideas of Plato, will be at last and for the -first time the sublime Homer ..." - -At this instant Nietzsche had conceived his work, and was making -ready to write it at a spurt. "Science, art, and philosophy grow so -intimately within me," he said in February to Rohde, "that I am about -to give birth to a centaur." - -Professional duties, however, interrupted this flight. In March he was -appointed titular professor. The honour flattered him, the duties kept -him occupied. At the same time he was given the care of a class of -higher rhetoric; then he was asked to draw up in the noblest Latin an -address of congratulation to Professor Baumbrach, of Fribourg, who had -taught for fifty years in the University of that town. Nietzsche, who -never shirked anything, applied himself to the preparation of his class -and the composition of his discourse. In April, more work. Ritschl -founded a review, the _Acta societatis philologic? Lipsi?,_ and desired -that his best pupil should contribute to it. Nietzsche did not haggle -over the help asked of him. He promised his copy, and wrote to Rohde to -ask for his collaboration also. - -"Personally, I feel most strongly that I am under an obligation," he -wrote. "And, notwithstanding that this work will put me out at the -moment, I am quite committed to it. We must collaborate for the first -number. You are aware that certain persons will read it with curiosity, -with malevolence. Therefore, it _must_ be good. I have promised my -faithful help--answer me." - -May and then June, 1870, came. Friedrich Nietzsche seems to have been -occupied, above all else, with his work for the _Acta._ During the -holidays at Pentecost, Rohde, on his way back from Italy, stopped at -Basle. Nietzsche was delighted, he wished Wagner to make his friend's -acquaintance, and brought him to Triebschen. They spent a fine day -together, on the brink of an abyss which none of them apparently -perceived. Rohde, continuing on his road to Germany, left Basle. -Nietzsche remained alone, the victim of a foolish accident. He had -given himself a strain and was forced to be up. - - * * * * * - -Had he given any attention to the rumours of war which troubled Europe -in 1870? It seems not. He was little curious of news, and scarcely -read the newspapers. Not that he was indifferent to his country, but -he conceived it, in the manner of Goethe, as a source of art and moral -grandeur. One of his thoughts, one alone, is perhaps inspired by -the public unrest. "No war," he writes; "the State would become too -strong thereby." No doubt we have here, besides one of Nietzsche's -own impressions, an echo of the conversations of Triebschen: Wagner -recruited his most ardent admirers in Southern Germany, in the -Rhineland, in Bavaria, where his protector Louis II. reigned; the -Germans of the North appreciated him badly, the Berliners worst of all, -and he had no wish for a warlike crisis which would certainly have the -effect of adding to the weight of Prussian dictation. The State to -which Nietzsche pointed in his short note was the Prussian State. He -foresaw, and like his master dreaded, the imminent hegemony of Berlin, -that despised town of bureaucrats and bankers, of journalists and Jews. - -On July 14th, a convalescent, stretched out on his long chair, he wrote -to his comrade, Erwin Rohde. He spoke to him of Richard Wagner and of -Hans von Bülow, of art and of friendship. Suddenly he stops in the -middle of a phrase, marking with a blank line the interruption of his -thought. - -"Here is a terrible thunderclap," he wrote. "The Franco-German war -is declared; a demon alights upon all our culture, already worn -threadbare. What are we about to experience? - -"Friend, dear friend, we met once more in the twilight of peace. To-day -what do all our aspirations signify? Perhaps we are at the beginning of -the end! What a gloomy sight. Cloisters will become necessary. And we -shall be the first friars." - -He signed himself _The Loyal Swiss._ This unexpected signature may be -explained in a literal manner. In order to be appointed a professor at -Basle, Friedrich Nietzsche had had to renounce his nationality. But -assuredly it indicated more than this. It announced his detachment of -mind: he had decided on the rôle of the contemplator. - -What a misunderstanding of himself! He was too young, too brave, too -much enamoured of his race, to adopt the part of spectator only in -the imminent drama. As "a loyal Swiss," and as such dispensed from -military duties, he quietly took up his abode with his sister Lisbeth -in a mountain inn, where he wrote out some pages on Greek lyricism. It -was then that he formulated for the first time his definition of the -Dionysian and Apollonian spirits. Nevertheless, the German armies were -crossing the Rhine and gaining their first victories, and it was not -without emotion that Nietzsche heard the news. The thought of lofty -deeds in which he had no part, of perils from which he was preserved, -troubled his meditations. - -On July 20th, writing to Madame Ritschl, he expressed the thoughts -which occupied his solitude. First he gave expression to a fear which, -as it seemed, the memory of a Greece ruined by the conflict of Sparta -and Athens inspired in him. "Unhappy, historical analogies teach us -that the very traditions of culture may be destroyed by the bitterness -of such a war of nations." But he also expressed the emotion which -had begun to seize him. "How I am ashamed of this inactivity in which -I am kept, now that the instant has come when I might be applying -what I learned in the artillery. Naturally I make myself ready for an -energetic course of action, in case things should take a bad turn; -do you know that the students of Kiel have enlisted together, with -enthusiasm?" On the morning of August 7th he read in his paper the -dispatches from Wörth: _German victory: Enormous losses._ He could no -longer remain in his retreat. He returned to Basle, asked and obtained -from the Swiss authorities permission to serve in the ambulance corps, -and proceeded at once to Germany to enlist for the war which allured -him. - -He crossed conquered Alsace: he saw the charnel houses of Wissembourg -and of Wörth: on August 29th he bivouacked not far from Strassburg, -where conflagrations lit up the horizon; then he made his way, by -Lunéville and Nancy, towards the country around Metz, now converted -into an immense ambulance, where the wounded of Mars-la-Tour, -Gravelotte and Saint-Privat, so numerous that it was difficult to nurse -them, were dying of their wounds and of infectious illnesses. Some -unfortunates were given into his charge: he did his duty with kindness -and courage, but experienced a singular emotion, a sacred and almost -enthusiastic horror. For the first time he considered without repulsion -the labour of the masses. He watched those millions of beings, some -struck down and marked by death, others marching the roads or standing -under arms: he considered them without contempt, he esteemed their -destiny. Under the menaces of war, these men have something momentous -about them. They forget their vain thoughts; they march, they sing, -they obey their chiefs; they die. Friedrich Nietzsche was recompensed -for his pains; a fraternal impulse uplifted his soul, he no longer -felt his solitude, he loved the simple people who surrounded him. "All -my military passions awake," he writes, "and I cannot satisfy them! I -would have been at Rezonville, at Sedan, actively, passively perhaps. -This Swiss neutrality always ties my hands." - -His passage through France was rapid. He received orders to convey the -wounded in his care to the hospital at Carlsruhe. - -He set out and was shut up, for three days and three nights, with -eleven men, lying in a market cart closed fast against the cold and -the rain. Two of the wounded who accompanied him were attacked by -diphtheria, all had dysentery. "To reach truth," says a German mystic, -"the most rapid mount is Affliction." Friedrich Nietzsche recalled -this maxim of which he was so fond. He tried his courage, verified his -thoughts. He dressed the sores of his wounded, he listened to their -complaints, their appeals, and did not interrupt his meditation. Till -now he had known only his books; now he knew life. He relished this -bitter ordeal, always discerning some far-off beauty. "I, also, I have -my hopes," he was to write; "thanks to them I was able to look on at -the war and to pursue my meditations without pause, in presence of -the worst horrors.... I recall a solitary night during which I lay -stretched out in a market van with the wounded men confided to me and -never ceased to explore in thought the three abysses of tragedy which -have for names: _Wahn, Wille, Wehe_--Illusion, Will, Affliction. Whence -then did I draw the confident certitude that he should undergo in -birth a similar ordeal, the hero to come of tragic knowledge and Greek -gaiety?" - -He arrived at Carlsruhe with his sick and wounded; he had contracted -their illness and was attacked by dysentery and diphtheria. An unknown -who had been his ambulance companion nursed him devotedly. As soon as -he was well again, Nietzsche went to his home at Naumburg, there to -seek not repose, but an entire leisure from work and thought. - -"Yes," he wrote to his friend Gersdorff, who was fighting in -France--"Yes, that conception of things which is common to us has -undergone the ordeal by fire. I have had the same experience as you. -For me, as for you, these weeks will remain in my life as an epoch -in which each one of my principles re-affirmed itself in me; I would -have risked death with them.... Now I am at Naumburg again, but poorly -restored to health so far. The atmosphere in which I have lived has -been long over me like a dark cloud; I heard an incessant lamentation." - -Once already, in July, 1865, during the campaign at Sadowa, he had -known war, and undergone its allurement. A simple and great aspiration -had laid hold of him; and for a moment he had felt himself in accord -with his race. "I feel a patriotic emotion," he wrote; "it is a new -experience for me." He grasped at this sudden exaltation and cultivated -it. - -Indeed, his is a changed soul. He is no longer the "loyal Swiss" of -another time; he is a man among men, a German proud of his Germany. A -war has transformed him; he glorifies war. War awakes the energy of -men; it even troubles their spirits. It obliges them to seek in an -ideal order, an order of beauty and duty, the ends of a life which is -too cruel. The lyric poet, the sage, misunderstood in ages of peace, -are heard with respect in ages of war. Then men have need of them, -and are conscious of their need. The same necessity which ranges them -behind their chiefs renders them attentive to genius. Humanity is made -truly one, and is drawn towards the heroic and the sublime, only under -the pressure of war. - -Friedrich Nietzsche, though still very weak and suffering, again took -up the notes of his book that he might record in it his new ideas. In -Greece, he argues, art was the visible form of a society, disciplined -by struggle, from the workshop, where the captive slave laboured, up -to the gymnasium and the agora, where the free man played with arms. -Such was that winged figure, that goddess of Samothrace, that had for -companion of her flight a bloody trireme. - -The Greek genius emanated from war, it sang war, it had war for its -comrade. "It is the people of the tragic mysteries," wrote Friedrich -Nietzsche, "who strike the great blow of the Persian battles; in -return, the people who have maintained these wars need the salutary -beverage of tragedy." We follow in his notes the movement of a -mind which wishes to grasp the very idea of the tragic, athwart a -vaguely-known Greece. Again and again we find this word _tragic_ -brought in as if it were a fundamental strain which the young -thinker trains himself to repeat, like a child trying to learn a new -word:--"Tragic Greece conquers the Persians.... Tragic man is nature -itself in its highest strength of creation and knowledge: he trifles -with sorrow...." Three formulas satisfy his research for a moment. -"The tragic work of Art--the tragic Man--the tragic State." Thus he -determined the three essential parts of his book, which he would -entitle as a whole: _The Tragic Man._ - -Let us not misunderstand the real object of his meditations: this -society, this discipline which he discerned in the past, were in -reality the ideal forms of the Fatherland which he desired and for -which he dared to hope. He saw on the one hand Latin Europe, weakened -by utilitarianism and the softness of life, on the other Germany, rich -in poets, in soldiers, in myths, in victories. She was suzerain of -those races which were in process of decay. How would she exercise this -suzerainty? Might not one augur from her triumph a new era, warlike -and tragic, chivalrous and lyric? One could conceive it; and therefore -one should hope for it, and this was enough to dictate one's duty. How -glorious this Germany would be, with Bismarck as its chief, Moltke as -its soldier, Wagner as its poet--its philosopher, too, existed, and -was called Friedrich Nietzsche. This belief, though he expressed it -nowhere, he surely had: for he had not a doubt as to his genius. - -He was elated, but did not let his dreams lead him astray: he imagined -an ideal Fatherland, yet never lost from sight the Fatherland, human, -too human, which actually existed. - -During October and the first days of November, alone with his own -people in that Naumburg whose provincial virtues he did not love, -he bore hardly with the vulgarity of the little people, of the -functionaries with whom he mixed. Naumburg was a small Prussian town; -Friedrich Nietzsche did not care for this robust and vulgar Prussia. -Metz had capitulated; the finest army of France was taken captive: a -delirium of conceit swept all Germany off its feet. Friedrich Nietzsche -resisted the general tendency. The sentiment of triumph was a repose -which his exacting soul might not know. On the contrary, he was -disgusted and alarmed. - -"I fear," he wrote to his friend Gersdorff, "that we shall have to pay -for our marvellous national victories at a price to which I, for my -part, will never consent. In confidence--I am of opinion that modern -Prussia is a Power highly dangerous to culture.... The enterprise is -not easy, but we must be philosophers enough to keep our sang-froid in -the midst of all this smoke, we must keep watch so that no robber may -come and steal any part of what, in my opinion, is commensurable with -nothing beside, not even the most heroic of military actions, not even -our national exaltation." - -Then a document appeared which deeply moved Friedrich Nietzsche. It -was the date of the centenary of Beethoven. The Germans, occupied with -their war, had neglected to commemorate it. Richard Wagner's voice was -raised, it alone was strong enough to recall to the conquerors the -memory of another glory: "Germans, you are brave," he cried; "remain -brave in peace.... In this marvellous year 1870 nothing is better -suited to your pride in being brave than the memory of the great -Beethoven.... Let us celebrate that great pioneer and path-hewer, let -us celebrate him worthily, not less worthily than the victory of German -courage: for he who gives joy to the world is raised higher among men -than he who conquers the world." - -_Germans, you are brave; remain brave in peace_--no saying could move -Friedrich Nietzsche more deeply. He desired to be near the master -again, and, though not yet restored to health, he left Naumburg. - - * * * * * - -He saw Richard Wagner again and was not entirely satisfied. This man, -who had been so splendid in misfortune, seemed to have lost stature. -There was a vulgar quality in his joy. Well had the German victory -avenged him for those Parisian cat-calls and railleries which he had -had to endure; now he "ate Frenchmen" with an enormous and peaceable -relish. Nevertheless he declined certain offers; he was promised the -highest office and honours if he accepted residence in Berlin. He -refused, being unwilling to let himself be enthroned as poet-laureate -of a Prussian Empire; and his disciple was thankful for the refusal. - -Friedrich Nietzsche found at Basle an even better confidant of his -anxieties. The historian Jacob Burckhardt, a great scholar of arts and -civilisations, was melancholy; all brutality was odious to him, and he -detested war and its destruction. A citizen of the last city in Europe -which maintained its independence and its old customs, proud of this -independence and of these customs, Jacob Burckhardt disliked those -nations of thirty or forty millions of souls which he saw establishing -themselves. To the designs of Bismarck and of Cavour he preferred the -counsel of Aristotle--"So arrange that the number of citizens does not -exceed ten thousand; otherwise they would not be able to meet together -on the public square." - -He had studied Athens, Venice, Florence, and Sienna. He held in high -esteem the ancient and Latin disciplines, in very moderate esteem -the German disciplines: he dreaded German hegemony. Burckhardt and -Nietzsche were colleagues. They often met in the intervals between two -lectures. Then they would talk and, on fine days, stroll together along -that terrace over which all European travellers lean, that is between -the cathedral of red sandstone and the Rhine, here so young still but -already so strong, as it passes with a long murmur of ruffled waters. -The simply-built University is situated quite near, on the slope, -between the river and the Museum. - -The two colleagues were eternally examining their common thought. How -should that tradition of culture and beauty be continued, that fragile -and oft-broken tradition which two tiny States, Attica and Tuscany, -have transmitted to our care? France had not deserved censure; she -had known how to maintain the methods and a school of taste. But had -Prussia the qualities fitting her heritage? Friedrich Nietzsche -repeated the expression of his hope. "Perhaps," said he, "this war will -have transformed our old Germany; I see her more virile, endowed with -a firmer and more delicate taste." Jacob Burckhardt listened. "No," -said he, "you are always thinking of the Greeks, for whom war had no -doubt an educative virtue. But modern wars are superficial; they do -not reach, they do not correct the bourgeois, _laissez-aller_ style of -life. They are rare; their impressions are soon effaced; they are soon -forgotten; they do not exercise people's thought." What did Nietzsche -answer? A letter to Erwin Rohde enables us to divine the ill-assured -accent of his observations. "I am very anxious," he writes, "as regards -the immediate future. I seem to recognise there the Middle Ages in -disguise.... Be careful to free yourself from this fatal Prussia, with -its repugnance to culture! Flunkeys and priests sprout from its soil -like mushrooms, and they are going to darken all Germany with their -smoke!" - -Jacob Burckhardt, long a recluse amid his memories and his books, had -the habit of melancholy and made the best of it. By way of discreet -protest against the enthusiasms of his contemporaries, he delivered a -lecture upon _Historical Greatness._ "Do not take for true greatness," -said he to the students of Basle, "such and such a military triumph, -such and such an expansion of a State. How many nations have been -powerful who are forgotten and merit their oblivion! Historical -greatness is a rarer thing; it lies wholly in the works of those men -whom we call great men, using that vague term because we cannot truly -fathom their nature. Some unknown genius leaves us _Notre Dame de -Paris;_ Goethe gives us his Faust; Newton his law of the Solar System. -This is greatness, and this alone." Friedrich Nietzsche listened and -applauded. "Burckhardt," wrote he, "is becoming a Schopenhauerian...." -But a few wise words do not satisfy his ardour. Nor can he so quickly -renounce the hope which he has conceived; he wishes to act, to save his -Fatherland from the moral disaster which in his judgment menaces her. - -How act? Here was a sluggish people, not easily aroused, lacking in -sensitiveness, a people stunted by democracy, a people in revolt -against every noble aspiration: by what artifice could one sustain -among them the imperilled ideal, the love of heroism and of the -sublime? Nietzsche formed a project which was so audacious and so -advanced that he meditated long upon it without confiding in any one. -Richard Wagner was then working to establish that theatre of Bayreuth -in which he hoped to realise his epic creation in complete freedom. -Nietzsche dared to imagine a different institution, but one of the -same order; a kind of seminary where the young philosophers, his -friends, Rohde, Gersdorff, Deussen, Overbeck, Romundt should meet, live -together and, free from duties, liberated from administrative tutelage, -meditate, under the guidance of certain masters, on the problems of -the hour. A double home of art and of thought would thus maintain at -the heart of Germany, above the crowd and apart from the State, the -traditions of the spiritual life. "Cloisters will become necessary," he -had written to Erwin Rohde in July; six months' experience brought back -this idea. "Here assuredly is the strangest thing which this time of -war and victory has raised up; _a modern anchoritism_--an impossibility -of living in accord with the State." - -Friedrich Nietzsche let himself be drawn away by this dream, the -unreality of which he failed to recognise. He was imagining a reunion -of solitaries, similar to the Port Royal des Champs. He knew that such -a society did not accord with the manners and tastes of his times, but -he judged it to be necessary and believed that he had strength enough -to establish or impose it. - -A profound instinct inspired and directed him. That old college of -Pforta had been monachal in its origins, in its buildings and in its -very walls, in the lasting gravity and ordered rule of life. Thus he -had, as a child, received the impress of what was almost the life of -a religious. He kept the memory of it, and the nostalgia. During his -years at the University he had constantly sought to isolate himself -from the world by surrounding himself with friends. He studied Greece, -and the antique wisdom nourished his soul: he loved Pythagoras -and Plato, the one the founder, the other the poet, of the finest -brotherhood that man had ever conceived, the close and sovereign -aristocracy of sages armed, of meditative knights. Thus did Christian -humanity and Pagan humanity, united by a remote harmony, concur with -his thoughts and his aspirations. - -He wished to write an open letter to his friends, known and unknown; -but he would only call them at the favourable moment, and till then -would keep his secret. "Give me two years," he wrote to his friend -Gersdorff enthusiastically and mysteriously, "and you will see a -new conception of antiquity diffuse itself, which must bring a new -spirit into the scientific and moral education of the nation!" Towards -mid-December he believed that the moment had come. Erwin Rohde wrote -him a melancholy letter, a very feeble echo of the passionate letters -which Nietzsche had addressed to him. "Soon we shall need cloisters -..." he said, repeating the same idea expressed six months earlier by -his friend. It was but a word; Friedrich Nietzsche saw in it a sign of -spontaneous agreement, a presage of enthusiastic collaboration, and he -wrote in a joyous transport: - -"DEAR FRIEND,--I received your letter and I answer it without losing -a minute. Above all I wish to tell you that I feel _altogether_ -like you, and that we shall be, in my opinion, very weak, if, -abandoning our feeble complaints, we do not deliver ourselves from -ennui by an energetic act.... I have at last understood the bearing -of Schopenhauer's judgments on the philosophy of the universities. No -radical truth is possible there. No revolutionary truth can come out -from there.... We shall reject this yoke; to me that is certain. And we -shall then form a new Greek academy: Romundt will be of our company. - -"You know, since your visit to Triebschen, the projects of Bayreuth. -For a long time, without confiding in any one, I have been considering -whether it would not be suitable for us to break with philology and -_its perspectives of culture._ I am preparing a great _adhortatio_ -for all those who are not yet completely captured and stifled by the -manners of this present time. What a pity that I must write to you, and -that for long we have not been able to examine in conversation each of -my thoughts! To you who know not their turnings and their consequences, -my plan will perhaps appear as an eccentric caprice. That, it is not; -it is a necessity. - -"... Let us try to reach a little island on which there will be -no longer need to close one's ears with wax. Then we shall be one -another's masters. Our books, from now till then, are but hooks to -catch our friends, a public for our æsthetic and monachal association. -Let us live, let us work, let us enjoy for one another's sake; in that -manner only, perhaps, shall we be able to work for the _whole._ I may -tell you (see how serious is my design) that I have already commenced -to reduce my expenses in order to constitute a little reserve fund. We -shall gamble in order to try our 'luck'; as to the books which we shall -be able to write, I shall demand the highest honorarium as a provision -for coming times. In brief, we shall neglect no lawful means of success -in founding our cloister. We also have our duty for the next two years! - -"May this plan seem to you worthy of meditation! Your last letter, -moving as it was, signified to me that the time had come to unveil it -for you. - -"Shall we not be able to introduce a new form of Academy into the world? - - - 'Und sollt' ich nicht, sehnsuchtigster Gewalt, - In's Leben ziehn die einzigster Gestalt?' - - -"Thus Faust speaks of Helen. No one knows anything of my project, and -now it depends upon you to see that Romundt is advised of it. - -"Assuredly, our school of philosophy is neither an historical -reminiscence nor an arbitrary caprice; is it not a _necessity_ that -pushes us on to that road? It seems that the plan of our student days, -that voyage which we were to make together, returns in a new form, -symbolic now and vaster than it was. On this occasion, I won't leave -you in the lurch as I then did. That memory always annoys me. - -"With my best hopes, your faithful - -"FRATER FRIEDRICH. - -"From the 23rd of December till the 1st of January I go to Triebschen, -near Lucerne." - -On the 22nd of December Friedrich Nietzsche left Lucerne: he had -received no reply from Rohde. He found the house at Triebschen in high -festival with children's games and the preparations for Christmas. -Madame Wagner gave him a volume of Stendhal, _Les Promenades dans -Rome._ He offered Wagner the famous woodcut of Dürer's of _The Knight, -the Dog, and Death,_ on which he had written a commentary for the -book he was then preparing, _The Origin of Tragedy:_ "A spirit which -feels itself isolated, desperate and solitary," he wrote, "could -choose no better symbol than that rider of Dürer's, who, unperturbed -by his gruesome companions and yet wholly without hope, pursues his -terrible path alone with dog and horse. This rider of Dürer's is our -Schopenhauer: he was without hope, but he desired the truth. His like -does not exist." Nietzsche would have been happy in the master's house -if he had not been expecting Rohde's reply: the waiting worried him. -He stopped for a week at Triebschen. Wagner was never done talking -about Bayreuth and his vast projects. Nietzsche, too, had his thought -which he would have joyfully uttered; but first he wanted his friend's -approbation, and that approbation did not come. He left without having -received a word or spoken one on the subject. - -At last, at Basle, he received the too long-desired letter: an -honest, affectionate, but negative reply. "You tell me that cloisters -are necessary to-day," wrote Rohde. "I believe it. But there are -necessities for which no remedy exists. How can we find the money? -And even when we shall have found the money, I do not know that I -shall follow you; I do not feel in me a creative force which renders -me worthy of the solitude whither you call me. For a Schopenhauer, a -Beethoven, a Wagner, the case is different, as it is for you, dear -friend. But, as I am in question, no! I must hope for a different life. -Still let us entertain the wish for such a retreat, among certain -friends, in a cloister of the muses; I agree to that. Deprived of -desires, what would we become?" - -If Rohde refused to follow him, who would follow him? He did not write -his _Adhortatio;_ Romundt was not advised, and even Wagner, it seems, -knew nothing of the proposal. - - * * * * * - -Nietzsche made no vain complaints, but set to work to elaborate alone -those revolutionary truths for which he would have wished to contrive -a kindlier manner of birth. He turned his back upon Germany, upon -those modern States which have it as their mission to flatter the -servilities, soften the conflicts, and favour the idleness of men. -He considered anew primitive Greece, the city of the seventh and the -sixth centuries; thither a mysterious attraction ever drew him back. -Was it the seduction of a perfect beauty? Doubtless, but it was also -the seduction of that strength and cruelty which a modern conceals -as he conceals a stain, and which the old Greeks practised with joy. -Nietzsche loved strength; on the battlefield of Metz he had felt within -him the appetite and instinct. - -"If," he wrote, "genius and art are the final ends of Greek culture, -then all the forms of Greek society must appear to us as necessary -mechanisms and stepping-stones towards that final end. Let us -discover what means were utilised by the will to act which animated -the Greeks...." He discerns and names one of these means: slavery. -"Frederick Augustus Wolf," he notes, "has shown us that slavery is -necessary to culture. There is one of the powerful thoughts of my -predecessor." He grasped it, held it to him, and forced it to disclose -its whole meaning. This idea, suddenly discovered, inspired him; it was -profound and moved him to the depths of his being; it was cruel, almost -monstrous, and satisfied his romantic taste. He shuddered before it, he -admired its sombre beauty. - -"It may be that this knowledge fills us with terror," he wrote; 'I -such terror is the almost necessary effect of all the most profound -knowledge. For nature is still a frightful thing, even when intent on -creating the most beautiful forms. It is so arranged that culture, in -its triumphal march, benefits only a trivial minority of privileged -mortals, and it is necessary that the slave service of the great -masses be maintained, if one wish to attain to a full joy in becoming -_(werde lust)._ - -"We moderns have been accustomed to oppose two principles against the -Greeks, the one and the other invented to reassure a society of an -altogether servile kind which anxiously avoids the world, _slave:_ we -talk of the 'dignity of man' and the 'dignity of labour.' - -"The language of the Greeks is other. They declare in simple terms that -work is a disgrace, for it is impossible that a man occupied with the -labour of gaining a livelihood should ever become an artist.... - -"So let us avow this cruel sounding truth: slavery is necessary to -culture; a truth which assuredly leaves no doubt as to the absolute -value of being. - -"The misery of those men who live by labour must be made yet more -vigorous, in order that a very few Olympian men may create a world -of art.... At their expense, by the artifice of unpaid labour, the -privileged classes should be relieved from the struggle for life, and -given such conditions that they can create, and satisfy a new order of -needs.... And if it is true to say that the Greeks were destroyed by -slavery, this other affirmation is, most certainly, even truer: for -lack of slavery, we are perishing." - -But what was the origin of this very institution of slavery? How was -the submission of the slave, that "blind mole of culture," secured? -The Greeks teach us, answered Nietzsche: "The conquered belongs to the -conqueror," they say, "with his wives and his children, his goods and -his blood. Power gives the first _right,_ and there is no right which -is not at bottom appropriation, usurpation, power." Thus Nietzsche's -thought was brought back towards its first object. The war had inspired -him in the first instance. Now he rediscovers that solution. In sorrow -and in tragedy, men had invented beauty; into sorrow and into tragedy -they must be plunged, and there retained that their sense of beauty -might be preserved. In pages which have the accent and rhythm of a -hymn, Friedrich Nietzsche glorifies and invokes war: - -"Here you have the State, of shameful origin; for the greater part of -men, a well of suffering that is never dried, a flame that consumes -them in its frequent crises. And yet when it calls, our souls become -forgetful of themselves; at its bloody appeal the multitude is urged to -courage and uplifted to heroism. Yes, the State is to the blind masses, -perhaps, the highest and most worthy of aims; it is, perhaps, the State -which, in its formidable hours, stamps upon every face the singular -expression of greatness. - -"Some tie, some mysterious affinity, exists between the State and art, -between political activity and artistic production, the battlefield -and the work of art. What is the rôle of the State? It is the tenaille -of steel which binds society together. Without the State, in natural -conditions--_bellum omnium contra omnes_--society would remain limited -by the family, and could not project its roots afar. By the universal -institution of States, that instinct which formerly determined the -_bellum omnium contra omnes_ has been concentrated; at certain epochs -terrible clouds of war menace the peoples and discharge themselves at -one great clap, in lightnings and thunders, fiercer as they are less -frequent. But these crises are not continual; between one and another -of them society breathes again; regenerated by the action of war, it -breaks on every side into blossom and verdure, and, when the first fine -days come, puts forth dazzling fruits of genius. - -"If I leave the Greek world and examine our own, I recognise, I avow -it, symptoms of degeneration which give me fears both for society and -for art. Certain men, in whom the instinct of the State is lacking, -wish, no longer to serve it, but to make it serve them, to use it for -their personal ends. They see nothing of the divine in it; and, in -order to utilise it, in a sure and rational manner, they are concerned -to evade the shocks of war: they set out deliberately to organise -things in such a manner that war becomes an impossibility. On the one -hand they conjure up systems of European equilibrium, on the other -hand they do their best to deprive absolute sovereigns of the right -to declare war, in order that they may thus appeal the more easily -to the egoism of the masses, and of those who represent them. They -feel it incumbent on them to weaken the monarchical instinct of the -masses, and do weaken it, by propagating among them the liberal and -optimistic conception of the world, a conception which has its roots in -the doctrines of French rationalism and the Revolution; that is, in a -philosophy altogether foreign to the German spirit, a Latin platitude, -devoid of any metaphysical meaning. - -"The movement, to-day triumphant, of nationalities, the extension of -universal suffrage which runs parallel to this movement, seem to me to -be determined above all by _the fear of war._ And behind these diverse -agitations, I perceive those who are chiefly moved by this alarm, the -solitaries of international finance, who, being by nature denuded of -any instinct for the State, subordinate politics, the State and society -to their money-making and speculative ends. - -"If the spirit of speculation is not thus to debase the spirit of the -State, we must have war and war again--there is no other means. In -the exaltation which it procures, it becomes clear to men that the -State has not been founded to protect egoistical individuals against -the demon of war; quite the contrary: love of country, devotion to -one's prince, help to excite a moral impulse which is the symbol of -a far higher destiny.... It will not therefore be thought that I do -ill when I raise here the pæan of war. The resonance of its silver -bow is terrible. It comes to us sombre as night: nevertheless Apollo -accompanies it, Apollo, the rightful leader of states, the god who -purifies them.... Let us say it then: war is necessary to the State, -as the slave is to society. No one will be able to avoid these -conclusions, if he have sought the causes of the perfection which Greek -art attained, and Greek art alone." - -_War and yet again war which exalts the peoples:_ such was the cry of -the solitary. He had but to drop his pen, to listen and look around -him, and he saw the pedantic empire and repressed his hopes. "We follow -the trouble of his thought. He hesitates, he records at the same moment -the abiding illusion and the inevitable disillusion: - -"I could have imagined," he writes, "that the Germans had embarked -on this war to save Venus from the Louvre, like a second Helen. It -would have been the spiritual interpretation of their combat. The fine -antique severity inaugurated by this war--for the time to be grave has -come--we think that is the time for _art_ also." - -He continued to write; his thought becomes clearer and more melancholy: -"The State, when it cannot achieve its highest aim, grows beyond -measure. The World Empire of the Romans, in face of Athens, has nothing -of the sublime. This sap, which should all run to the flowers, resides -now in the leaves and stalks, which swell to an immense size." - -Rome troubled him; he disliked it; he judged it a slur upon antiquity. -That city, warlike, but ever plebeian, victorious, but ever vulgar, -filled him with gloomy fore-thought: - - -"Rome," he wrote, "is the typical barbaric state: the will cannot -there attain to its noble ends. The organisation is more vigorous, the -morality more oppressive ... who venerates this colossus?" - -_Who venerates this colossus?_ Let us give a modern and pressing -application to these interrogatory words. The colossus is not Rome, it -is Prussia and her empire. Narrow was the soil of Athens or of Sparta, -and brief their day; but what did that matter if the object, which -was spiritual strength and beauty, was attained? Friedrich Nietzsche -was haunted by this vision of Greece with its hundred rival cities, -raising between mountains and sea their acropoles, their temples, their -statues, all resounding with the rhythm of pæans, all glorious and -alert. - -"The sentiment of Hellenism," he wrote, "as soon as it is awakened, -becomes aggressive and translates itself into a combat against the -culture of the present day." - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche suffered from the wounds which life inflicted -upon his lyrical dream. His friends listened to him, but followed him -imperfectly. The professor, Franz Overbeck, who lived in his house and -saw him every day, was a man of distinction, with a strong and acute -mind. A German by birth, a Frenchman by education, he understood the -problems of the day, and joined in the anxieties and intentions of -Nietzsche; but his ardour could not equal Nietzsche's. Jacob Burckhardt -was a man of noble intellect and character, but he was without hope, -and Friedrich Nietzsche passionately desired to hope. No doubt, there -was Wagner, whom neither passion nor hope ever could surprise, but he -had just published an Aristophanic buffoonery directed against the -conquered Parisians. Friedrich Nietzsche read this gross work, and -condemned it. Overbeck and Burckhardt lacked ardour; Wagner lacked -delicacy; and Nietzsche confided in no one. A chair of philosophy had -just been vacated in the University of Basle. Nietzsche took fire -at once. He wrote to Erwin Rohde, and told him that he should apply -for this chair, and that he would assuredly secure it. Thus the two -friends were to meet again. Vain hope! Erwin Rohde presented himself -as a candidate, but was not accepted. Nietzsche reproached himself for -having lured on his friend. He grew melancholy. He felt himself drawn -"like a little whirlpool into a dead sea of night and oblivion." - -He had never recovered entirely from the ordeals of the war. Neither -sleep nor sure and certain health were ever at his call again. In -February the nervous force which had sustained him suddenly gave way, -and his disorders assumed an acute form. Violent neuralgas, insomnia, -troubles and weaknesses of the eyesight, stomach ills, jaundice -represented the nature of the crisis which had been tormenting him for -five months. The doctors, quite at a loss, advised him to give up work -and to take a voyage. Friedrich Nietzsche sent for his sister, who came -to Naumburg. He brought her to pay a farewell visit to Triebschen, and -left for Lugano. - -At that time the railway did not cross the Alps. Travellers went by -diligence over the ridge of the St. Gothard. Chance furnished Nietzsche -with a remarkable companion, an old man of a talkative humour, and with -no desire to conceal his identity: it was Mazzini. The old humanitarian -and the young apostle of slavery hit it off wonderfully well. Mazzini -cited Goethe's phrase: - -"_Sich des halben zu entwohnen und im Ganzen, Vollen, Schönen resolut -zu leben_" (To abjure half-measures, and to live resolutely in the -Whole, the Full, the Beautiful). Friedrich Nietzsche never forgot the -energetic maxim, nor the man who had transmitted it to him, nor this -day of rapid and healthful travel, not far from those summits which he -was afterwards to love so much. - -The fine mountain crossing amid the snow and silence of the Alps had -sufficed. He was almost cured on his arrival at Lugano. His nature was -still supple and youthful; his returns to life were prompt and radiant; -a naïve gaiety re-animated all his being. He spent two happy months -in Italian Switzerland. A Prussian officer, a relation of General von -Moltke, was staying at his hotel. He lent him his manuscripts and often -talked to him of the destinies of the new German Empire and of the -aristocratic warrior's mission which the victory had conferred upon -it. It was a fine springtide for the numerous Germans who had come to -rest at the place: they liked to gather round their young philosopher -and listen to him. February began, the war was over, and these happy -people, freed from all anxieties, abandoned themselves for the first -time to the pleasure of their triumph. They sang; they danced in -public up to the Market-place, and Nietzsche was not the least prompt -to rejoice with them, to dance and sing. "When I recall these days," -writes Madame Förster-Nietzsche, who gives us a sad and gracious -account of the time, "it seems to me that I am having a veritable dream -of Carnival." - -From Lugano, Friedrich Nietzsche wrote to Erwin Rohde: - -"I have very often suffered from a heavy and depressed mood. But more -than once inspiration has returned to me; my manuscript has benefited -from it. I have given the go-by to philology in the most cavalier -fashion. They may praise me, they may blame me, they may promise me -the highest honours, they may talk as they choose; I turn my back upon -it. Every day I go deeper into my philosophic domain, and I begin to -have confidence in myself; better still, if I am ever to be a poet, -from to-day I feel myself disposed towards it. I do not know, I have no -means of knowing, whither my destiny guides me. And nevertheless, when -I examine myself, everything is in perfect accord within me, as though -I had followed some good genius. My ends are extremely hidden from me; -no concern for office, for hierarchic honours, directs my efforts; -and none the less I live in a surprising condition of clarity, of -serenity. What a sensation it is to see one's world before one, a fine -globe, round and complete! Now it is some fragment of a new metaphysic, -now it is a new æsthetic which grows up within me, now another idea -claims me, a new principle of education which entails the complete -rejection of our Universities and gymnasia. I never learn any fact but -it immediately finds a good place in some corner that has been long -prepared for it. This sentiment of an interior world which springs up -within me I feel in all its force when I think not coldly, but quietly -and without exaggerated enthusiasm, on the history of these last ten -months, on these events which I consider as the instruments of my noble -designs. Pride, folly, are words that feebly express my condition of -mental 'insomnia.' - -"Ah, how I desire health! As soon as one has something in view which -must last longer than oneself--how one gives thanks for every good -night, for every mild ray of sun, even for every occasion on which one -digests aright!" - -On the 10th of April, Nietzsche had returned to Basle. He gathered his -notes together, re-read them for the last time, and fixed definitely -the plan of his work. He allowed those digressions upon war, slavery, -the city, of which we have already given some extracts, to drop, -and--Wagner, it is said, desired it--limited himself to his first -subject: ancient tragedy, the model and precursor of German musical -drama. Wagner's advice, Madame Förster-Nietzsche insinuates, was not -altogether disinterested; it suited him that his disciple's first work -should be consecrated to his fame. This has an air of probability; -still it certainly seems that Nietzsche had let himself be captured and -seduced by too many ideas, that he had not so much amassed the matter -for one book as begun, rather at hazard, a whole series of studies in -æsthetics, history, and politics. He needed to restrict himself, and -yet could not make up his mind to it. If Wagner helped him here, he did -well. Perhaps we owe the happy completion of this book to him--the only -real book which Nietzsche ever completed. - -What was it that he had to say? He was to analyse the origin and the -essence of the Greek lyric spirit; he was to set the two Greeces over -against one another, the one intoxicated by its myths and Dionysian -chants, strong in illusions--Æschylus's Greece, tragic and conquering -Greece; the other impious, rational, anæmic--Socratic Greece, -Alexandrine Greece, which in dying corrupted the peoples who had -remained young around her, the pure blood of primitive humanity. Then -he was to display the two Germanys in conflict in a like manner, the -Germany of the Democrats and the savants, the Germany of the soldiers -and the poets; between these two one had to choose. Nietzsche declared -his choice: beholden to Wagner, as he was, for all his tranquillity -of thought, for all his joys, he indicated Wagner to his compatriots. -While the peace was being signed at Frankfort between the nations, -Friedrich Nietzsche, thus establishing peace within himself, ended the -rough draft of his work. He remarked upon this coincidence of dates, -for his internal conflicts and the revolutions of his thought did not -appear to him less important events than external conflicts and the -revolutions of races. - -But the Peace of Frankfort did not terminate all the conflicts of this -terrible year. A civil war now broke out in France, and its calamities -stirred Europe even more profoundly than the battles of Frœschwiller -or Sedan. On the morning of the 23rd of May, the newspapers of Basle -announced the destruction of Paris and the burning of the Louvre. -Nietzsche learnt the news with a feeling of dismay: the most beautiful -works, the flower of human labour, were ruined; human hands, an unhappy -people, had dared this profanation. All Nietzsche's alarms were thus -confirmed. Without discipline, without an hierarchy, culture, he had -written, cannot subsist. All have not the right to share in beauty; the -immense majority should live humbly, work for their masters and revere -their lives. Such is the economy which assures strength to societies, -and, in return for their strength, delicacy, grace, beauty; and this -is the order which Europe hesitates to maintain. Nietzsche might now -have boasted of the correctness of his judgment; it was far from him -to do so. It was with alarm that he considered his perspicacity, his -solitude, and his responsibility. His thoughts suddenly turned to Jacob -Burckhardt; what melancholy must be his! He wished to see him, to talk -to him, to listen to him, to make his desolation his own. He hurried to -Burckhardt's house; but Burckhardt, though the hour was early, had gone -out. Nietzsche walked the roads like a desperate man. Finally he went -back. Jacob Burckhardt was in his study, and awaited him. He had gone -to seek his friend, as his friend had gone to seek him. The two men -remained for long together, and Fräulein Nietzsche, alone in the next -room, heard their sobs through the closed door. - -"Let us avow it," he writes to his friend, the Baron von Gersdorff, "we -are all, with all our past, responsible for the terrors which menace -us to-day. We shall do wrong, if we consider with a peaceful conceit -the unchaining of a war against culture, and if we impute the fault -merely to the unfortunates who do the deed. When I heard of the firing -of Paris, I was for some days utterly powerless, lost in tears and -doubts; the life of science, of philosophy and of art appeared to me as -an absurdity when I saw a single day suffice for the ruin of the finest -works of art; what do I say?--of entire periods of art. I profoundly -deplored the fact that the metaphysical value of art could not manifest -itself to the lower classes; but it has a higher mission to fulfil. -Never, however lively my affliction were, would I have cast the stone -at the sacrilegious, who in my eyes are only carriers of the mistake of -all--a mistake which gives cause for much thought...." - -In the autobiographical notes written in 1878 these words may be read: -"The War: my profoundest affliction, the burning of the Louvre." - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche had gone back to his old way of life; almost every -week he was Wagner's guest. But soon he perceived that since the -German victory Triebschen had changed. Too many intimates made haste -to the master's house, too many unknown people invaded the abode whose -peaceful seclusion he had loved. They were not all of the sort that -Nietzsche would have desired; but Wagner talked, discoursed, overflowed -with them all. Judging that the favourable moment had come, he had set -out to rouse Germany and secure at last the construction and gift of -the hall which he needed, the theatre, or the temple, of Bayreuth. - -Friedrich Nietzsche heard and took part in these discussions with an -uneasy ardour. Wagner's idea exalted him. But he had the soul of a -solitary, and could not help being worried, and sometimes shocked, -by these noises from the world which had to be tolerated. Wagner did -not suffer: on the contrary, he seemed elated by the joy of feeling -the crowd nearer to him; and Nietzsche, a little surprised, a little -disappointed, sought, without precisely finding again, his hero. -"To sway the people," he had written in his student notebooks, "is -to put passions in the service of an idea." Wagner adapted himself -to work of this kind. In the service of his art and of his fame he -accepted all the passions. A Chauvinist with the Chauvinists, an -idealist with the idealists, as much of a Gallophobe as was desired; -restoring the Æschylian tragedy for some, for others re-animating the -old German myths; willingly a pessimist, a Christian if it pleased, -sincere moreover from moment to moment, this prodigious being, a great -leader of men as well as a great poet, handled his compatriots most -dexterously. - -No one could resist the impulse which he gave: every one had to -yield and to follow. He fixed the very details of the plans of the -theatre whose site had just been chosen. He studied the practical -organisation of the work, and laboured to create those _Vereine_ in -which propagandists and subscribers were to be grouped. He set himself -out to procure rare and unexpected delights for the faithful. One day -he surprised them with a performance for their benefit alone, in the -gardens of Triebschen, of the _Siegfried-Idyll,_ a gracious interlude -written for the churching of his wife, a noble echo of the most -intimate times. He gave Nietzsche his rôle, for he could not allow that -voice, so passionate and hard to control, and yet so eloquent, to be -lost. The young man offered to set out on a mission. He would stir up -those circles in Northern Germany, so slow and heavy in its emotions. -Bus proposal was not accepted; Wagner, no doubt, feared the violence of -his apostolate: "No," he said to him, "finish and publish your book." -Nietzsche felt somewhat melancholy at the refusal. Henceforth, it -seems, difficulties began to arise between the two. - -Moreover, the advice of the master was less easy to follow than it -seemed. _The Origin of Tragedy_ did not find a publisher. Nietzsche's -applications failed, and his summer was spoilt by the check. He decided -to print certain chapters of it in the reviews. "I put my little book -into the world bit by bit," he wrote in July to Erwin Rohde; "what a -childbirth! what tortures!" - -At the beginning of October he was staying at Leipsic. Here he saw -again his master Ritschl, and his friends Rohde, Gersdorff, who had -come to meet him, and spent with them some happy days of conversation -and comradeship. But the fate of his book remained uncertain: all the -publishers of scientific and philological works bowed the author out. -They were not tempted by a bizarre work, in which learning was allied -with lyricism and the problems of ancient Greece with the problems -of modern Germany. "The book is a centaur," said Nietzsche. This -mythological assurance did not satisfy the book-sellers. Finally he -had to address himself, not without regret--for he maintained that his -work was a scientific work--to Richard Wagner's publisher, from whom -he received, after a month's delay, a favourable reply. He wrote to -his friend Gersdorff, in a free and relieved tone, which helps us to -measure the vexation from which he had suffered. - -"BASLE, _November_ 19, 1871. - -"Pardon me, dear friend, I ought to have thanked you sooner. I had -felt in your last letter, in every one of your words, your strong -intellectual life. It seemed to me that you remained a soldier at soul -and brought your military nature to art and philosophy. And that is -good, for we have no right to live to-day, if we are not militants, -militants who prepare a _sæculum_ to come, something of which we can -guess at in ourselves, across our best instants. For those instants, -which are what there is of best in us, draw us away in spirit from -_our_ time; nevertheless, in some manner, they need to have their -hearthstone somewhere: whence I infer that at such instants we feel a -confused breath of coming times pass over us. For instance, take our -last meeting at Leipsic; has it not left in your memory the impression -of such instants, as seemed to be strangers to everything, linked with -another century? Whatever may be, this remains, '_Im Ganzen, Vollen, -Schönen, resolut zu leben._' But it needs a strong will, such as is -not given to the first comer!... To-day, only to-day, the excellent -publisher Fritzsch replies to me." - -Fritzsch proposed to him that he should give his book the format and -character of a recent work of Wagner's: _Die Bestimmung der Oper._ -Nietzsche rejoiced at the idea, and he wrote five concluding chapters -which accentuated the Wagnerian tendency of the work. This rapid -composition and the correction of the proofs did not deter him from -another enterprise. - -_The Origin of Tragedy_ was about to appear. He did not doubt for a -moment that it would be read, understood, acclaimed. His comrades, -his masters, had always acknowledged the strength of his thought. -Apparently, it never occurred to him that a vaster public remained -callous; but he wished to affect it profoundly, at the first blow, -and he formed new projects by which he might make the most of his -success. He wanted to talk: speech was a livelier weapon. He recalled -the emotions which he had experienced when, as a young professor, he -was given the singular task of teaching the most delicate language, the -most difficult works, to chance audiences; he remembered his perhaps -fanciful design: that seminary of philologists, that house of study -and retreat, of which he was always dreaming. He wanted to denounce -the schools, the gymnasia, the Universities, the heavy apparatus of -pedantry which was stifling the German spirit, and define the new and -necessary institutions, destined, no longer for the emancipation of the -masses, but for the culture of the State. He had written to Erwin Rohde -as early as the month of March: "A new idea claims me, a new principle -of education which points to the entire rejection of oar Universities, -of our gymnasia...." In December, he announced at Basle, for January, -1872, a series of lectures upon _The Future of our Educational -Institutions._ - -Towards mid-December, he accompanied Richard Wagner to Mannheim, where -a two days' festival was being devoted to the works of the master. - -"Oh, what a pity you were not there!" he wrote to Erwin Rohde. "All -the sensations, all the recollections of art, what are they compared -to these? I am like a man whose ideal has been realised. It is Music, -and Music alone! ... When I say to myself that a certain number of men -of the generations to come--at least some hundreds among them--will be -moved by this music as I am myself, I cannot augur for less than an -entire renewal of our culture!" - -He returned to his house in Basle: but the impression of his days in -Mannheim remained with him. The details of his everyday life caused -him a strange and tenacious disgust. "All that cannot be translated -into music," he wrote, "is repulsive and repugnant to me.... I have a -horror of reality. Or, rather, I no longer see anything of the real, it -is only a phantasmagoria." Under the stress of this emotion he acquired -a clearer view of the problem which occupied him, he formulated -more clearly the principle for which he was seeking. To "teach," to -"uplift" men, what does that mean? It is to dispose their minds in -such sort that the productions of genius will be assured, not of the -understanding of all, for that cannot be, but of the respect of all. - -As in the preceding years, Richard and Cosima Wagner invited him to -spend Christmas at Triebschen. He excused himself; the work of his -lectures occupied all his time. He offered Cosima Wagner, by way of -homage, a musical fantasy on Saint Sylvester's Night, composed some -weeks earlier. "I am very impatient to know what they will think of -it down there," he wrote to Rohde. "I have never been criticised by -any competent person." In reality, good judges had already often -discouraged his musical enterprises, but he soon forgot their vexatious -advice. - -On the last day of 1871, his book appeared: _Die Gebürt der Tragödie -aus dem Geiste der Musik (The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of -Music)_. The sub-title which the current editions give, _Hellenism -and Pessimism,_ was added in 1885 on the issue of the second edition. -Friedrich Nietzsche sent the first copy to Richard Wagner, from whom he -received almost at once a frenzied letter. - -"DEAR FRIEND,--I have never read a finer book than yours. It is all -splendid! At this moment, I write to you very hurriedly because the -reading has profoundly moved me, and I expect that I wait for the -return of my sang-froid to re-read you methodically. I said to Cosima: -After you, he it is whom I love most; and then, at a long distance, -Lenbach, who has made so striking and so true a portrait of me.... -Adieu! Come soon to see us! - -"Yours, - -"R. W." - -On the 10th of January Wagner wrote again: - -"You have just published a book which is incomparable. All the -influences which you may have undergone are reduced to nothing by the -character of your book: what distinguishes it from every other, is the -complete confidence with which a penetrating individuality displays -itself. It is here that you satisfy the ardent desire of myself and -of my wife: in short, a strange voice might have been talking of us, -and we would have fully approved it! Twice we have read your book from -the first line to the last--in the daytime, separately--at night, -together--and we were lamenting that we had not at our disposal that -second copy which you had promised. We deliver battle over that sole -copy. I am constantly in need of it; between my breakfast and my -working hours, it is it that sets me going; for since I have read -you, I have begun again to work on my last act. Our readings, whether -together or separately, are constantly interrupted by our exclamations. -I am not yet recovered from the emotion which I experienced. There is -the condition we are in!" - -And Cosima Wagner wrote, for her part: "Oh, how fine your book is! -How beautiful it is and how profound, how profound it is and how -audacious!" On January 16th he delivered his first lecture. His joy, -his sense of security, were extreme. He knew that Jacob Burckhardt -read and approved him; he knew that he had the admiration of Rohde, -Gersdorff, Overbeck. "What they say of my book is incredible," he wrote -to a friend. "... I have concluded an alliance with Wagner. You cannot -imagine how we are bound to one another, and how identical are our -views." He conceived his second work without delay; he would publish -his lectures. It would be a popular book, an exoteric translation of -his _Tragedy._ But the idea of an even more decisive action at once -supervened. Germany was preparing to inaugurate the new University of -Strassburg; and an apotheosis of professors on a soil that had been -conquered by soldiers awoke the indignation of Friedrich Nietzsche. -He wished to address a pamphlet to Bismarck, "under the form of an -interpellation in the Reichstag." Have our pedants, he would ask, the -right to go in triumph to Strassburg? Our soldiers have conquered the -French soldiers, and that is glorious. But has our culture humiliated -French culture? Who would dare to say so? - -Some days went by. Whence came the less happy tone of his letters? Why -was it that he did not write his interpellation, that he gave up the -idea of it? We know: except for a few friends who had understood his -book, no one read it, no one bought it; not a review, not a newspaper -deigned to take notice of it. Ritchsl, the great philologist of -Leipsic, kept silent. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote to him: "I want to know -what you think." He received in reply a severe criticism and a reproof. -Erwin Rohde offered an article for the _Litterarische Centralblatt;_ -it was not inserted. "It was the last chance of a serious voice being -upraised for me in a scientific sheet," he wrote to Gersdorff; "now I -expect nothing more--except spite or idiocy. But, as I have told you, -I count upon the peaceful journey of my book through the centuries with -perfect confidence. For in it certain eternal verities are said for the -first time: they must resound...." - -Certainly Friedrich Nietzsche had not foreseen his ill-success: it -astonished and disconcerted him. A sore throat obliged him to interrupt -his lectures, and he found pleasure in the contretemps. He had let -himself be drawn towards ideas which were very lofty and delicate, -and difficult even to himself. He wished to show that two sorts of -schools should be instituted, the one professional, for the majority; -the other, classical and truly superior, for an infinitesimal number -of chosen individuals, whose course would be extended as far as -their thirtieth year. How was this isolated circle, aloof from the -common herd, to be formed, and how was it to be taught? Friedrich -Nietzsche recurred to his most intimate and familiar thought, to that -aristocratic ideal to which his meditations always led him. He had -often studied its problems. But to examine them in public he needed his -whole strength, and also a sympathetic audience. He felt that he had -been weakened by the failure of his book. His very slight indisposition -did not last long: nevertheless he did not return to his lectures. It -was vain to ask him to do so: he refused. It was vain to press him -to have them published; Richard Wagner strongly insisted: he eluded -this insistence. His notes have come to us in a sorry condition of -incompleteness and disorder. They are the echoes, the vestiges of a -dream. - -"The aristocracy of the mind must conquer its entire liberty in respect -of the State, which is now keeping Science in curb. - -"Later, men will have to raise the tables of a new culture ... then -destruction of the gymnasia, destruction of the University ... an -areopagus, for the justice of the mind. - -"_The culture of the future: its ideal of social problems._ The -imperative world of the beautiful and the sublime ... the only -safeguard against Socialism ..." - -Finally these three interrogatory words, which sum up his doubts, his -desires, and perhaps his whole work: "_Ist Veredlung möglich?"_ (Is -ennoblement possible?) - -Friedrich Nietzsche courageously renounced his hope and was silent. -He had lost his country: Prussia would not be the invincible -framework of a lyrical race; the German Empire would not realise the -"imperative world of the beautiful and the sublime." On April 30th -the new University of Strassburg was inaugurated. "I hear from here -the patriotic rejoicings," he wrote to Erwin Rohde. In January he had -refused an offer of employment which would have withdrawn him from -Basle. In April he spoke of leaving Basle and of going to Italy for two -or three years. "The first review of my book has at last appeared," -he wrote, "and I find it very good. But where has it appeared? In -an Italian publication, _La Rivista Europea!_ That is pleasant and -symbolical!" - - * * * * * - -He had a second reason for melancholy: Richard Wagner was leaving to -make his home at Bayreuth. A letter of Cosima Wagner announced the -departure: "Yes, Bayreuth!... Adieu to dear Triebschen, where the -_Origin of Tragedy_ was conceived, and so many other things which -perhaps will never begin again!" - -Three years before, in this spring season, Nietzsche had hazarded his -first visit to Triebschen; he wished to return again. He did return, -and found the house desolate. A few pieces of furniture, covered over -with horse-cloths and dispersed from room to room, seemed like flotsam -and jetsam from another time. Every small object, all the family -knick-knacks, had disappeared. The light entered, hard and crude, -through the curtainless windows. Wagner and his wife were completing -then-last packages, throwing the last of the books into the last of -the baskets. They welcomed the faithful Nietzsche, asked his aid; he -gave it at once. He wrapped up in packets the letters, the precious -manuscripts; then more books and scores. Suddenly his heart failed -him. So it was all over, Triebschen was done with! Three years of his -life, and what years they had been! How unexpected, how moving, how -delicious, and they were to escape in a day! Now he must renounce -the past, and follow the master without regret. Now he must forget -Triebschen and, for the future, think only of Bayreuth. No sooner was -this magical name pronounced than it fascinated Nietzsche and troubled -him. His hours at Triebschen had been so fine, hours of repose and -meditation, hours of work and silence. A man, a woman of genius; a nest -of children; an infinity of happy conversations, of beauty--Triebschen -had given all that. What would Bayreuth give? The crowd would come -there, and what would it bring with it? Friedrich Nietzsche left the -books which he was engaged in packing. The grand piano had remained -in the middle of the salon. He opened it, preluded, then improvised. -Richard and Cosima Wagner, leaving aside all their affairs, listened. A -harrowing, unforgettable rhapsody resounded through the empty salon. It -was the adieu. - -In November, 1888, Friedrich Nietzsche, already stricken with madness, -set himself to recount his history. "Since I am here recalling the -consolations of my life, I ought to express in a word my gratitude for -what was by far my most profound and best-loved joy--my intimacy with -Richard Wagner. I wish to be just with regard to the rest of my human -relationships; but I absolutely cannot efface from my life the days at -Triebschen, days of confidence, of gaiety, of sublime flashes--days of -_profound_ perceptions. I do not know what Wagner was for others: our -sky was never darkened by a cloud." - - -[1] Cosima Wagner. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER--BAYREUTH - - -Bayreuth has had a strange destiny. This little German town, so -long obscure, scintillates in the eighteenth century, shines with -a somewhat flickering brilliance, but becomes celebrated at last -throughout all Europe. An intelligent Margravine--Frederick's sister, -the friend of Voltaire and of French elegance--lives there, beautifies -it, enlivens the barren country with castles, and lavishes on its -façades the singular volutes of the "rococo" style. The Margravine -dies and Bayreuth is again forgotten. A century passes and suddenly -its fame returns; the little town that the Margrave adorned becomes -the Jerusalem of a new art and a new religion. A strange destiny, but -a factitious one. It is a poet who has regulated the antitheses. The -history of Bayreuth ought to be included among Wagner's works. - -He wished to set up his theatre in a quiet and secluded town. It suited -him, not to go to his audience, but rather to force his audience to -come to him. He chose, from many others, this town; the two Germanys -would be thus confronted, the one, that of the past, a slave to French -customs, mean and shabby; the other, that of the future, his own, an -emancipating and innovating Germany. The work was started without -delay. The master decided that the foundation-stone of his theatre -should be laid with pomp on the 22nd of May, 1872, the anniversary of -his birth. - -"So we shall see one another again," wrote Nietzsche to his friend -Rohde. "Our meetings are ever becoming more grandiose, more historical, -are they not?" - -They were present together at the ceremony, one of them coming from -Basle, the other from Hamburg. Two thousand people were assembled -in the little town. The weather was appalling. But the unceasing -rain, the threatening sky, made the ceremony still more imposing. -Wagnerian art is a serious thing and has no need of smiling heavens. -The faithful disciples, standing in the open air at the mercy of the -winds, saw the stone laid. In the hollow block Wagner deposited a piece -of poetry written by himself, and then threw the first spadeful of -plaster. In the evening he invited his friends to hear an execution -of the "Symphony" with chorus, the orchestration of which he had in -parts slightly strengthened. He personally conducted. Young Germany, -assembled in the Margrave's theatre, listened piously to this work in -which the nineteenth century declared its need, and when the final -chorus struck up--"Millions of men embrace each other"--it really -seemed, said a spectator, as if the sublime wish was about to be -realised. - -"Ah! my friend," wrote Nietzsche, "through what days we have lived! -No one can rob us of these grave and sacred memories. We ought to go -forth into life inspired to battle on their behalf. Above all, we ought -to force ourselves to regulate all our acts, with as much gravity and -force as is possible, so as to prove that we are worthy of the unique -events at which we have assisted." - -Nietzsche wanted to fight for Wagner, for he loved Wagner and he loved -battle. "To arms, to arms!" he writes to Rohde; "war is necessary to -me, _ich brauche den Krieg._" But he had already proved many a time, -what he now began sadly to understand, that his nature did not lend -itself to reticence and to the prudence necessary in such a contest, in -which public opinion was the stake. There was no instant but a word, -an attitude ran foul of his radical idealism. He felt the instinctive -constraint that he had already known at Triebschen. Wagner disturbed -him. He hardly recognised the grave and pure hero whom he had loved -so much. He saw another man, a powerful workman, brutal, vindictive, -jealous. Nietzsche had thought of making a tour in Italy, with a -relation of Mendelssohn's; he was obliged to give up this idea in order -to humour the master, who detested the race, even to the very name of -Mendelssohn. - -"Why is Wagner so distrustful?" Nietzsche wrote in his diary; "it -excites distrust." - -Wagner was as dictatorial as he was distrustful. The days had become -rare when he could converse at leisure with nobleness and freedom as he -had done at Triebschen. He spoke briefly, he commanded. - -Nietzsche was still ready to go on a mission to Northern Germany to -speak, write, and found _Vereine,_ and to "thrust under the noses -of the German savants the things which their timid eyes failed to -perceive." Wagner would not accept this proposal; he wished Nietzsche -to publish his lectures on _The Future of our Educational Systems._ -Nietzsche resisted a desire in which he thought he detected a certain -egotism. - -"Our Herr Nietzsche only wants to do what he likes," exclaimed the -irritable Wagner. - -His anger saddened and humiliated Nietzsche both on his own account -and on his master's. He thought, "Ill, weighed down with work, have -I no right to respect? Am I under any one's orders? Why is Wagner so -tyrannical?" We read in his diary, "Wagner has not the strength to -make those around him free and great. Wagner is not loyal; he is, on -the contrary, suspicious and haughty." - -At the same time there appeared a pamphlet, _The Philology of the -Future, a reply to F. Nietzsche._ The author was Willamowitz, who had -been Nietzsche's comrade at the school of Pforta. - -"DEAR FRIEND," he wrote to Gersdorff, who informed him of the pamphlet, -"Don't worry over me. I am ready. I will never entangle myself in -polemics. It is a pity it should be Willamowitz. Do you know that -he came last autumn to pay me a friendly visit? Why should it be -Willamowitz?" - -Wagner, at whom the title itself of the pamphlet, _The Philology of -the Future,_ was aimed--it parodied his famous formula, _The Music of -the Future_--wrote a reply, and profited by the occasion to renew his -invitation to Friedrich Nietzsche. - -"What must one think of our schools of culture?" he concludes. "It is -for you to tell us what German culture ought to be, so as to direct -the regenerated nation towards the most noble objects." Once again -Nietzsche was firm in his determination. He was by no means satisfied -with these lectures, being discontented with their form and uncertain -even of their thought. "I do not wish to publish anything as to which -my conscience is not as pure as that of the seraphim." He tried to -express his Wagnerian faith in another style. - -"I should have so much pleasure," he wrote to Rohde, "in writing -something for the service of our cause, but I don't know what. All that -I advance is so wounding, such an irritant, and more likely to hurt -than to serve. Why should my poor book, naïve and enthusiastic as it -was, have been received so badly? Singular! Now, what shall we do, we -others?" - -He began to write _Reden eines Hoffenden (Words of a Man of Hope),_ -which he soon gave up. - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche re-opened his Greek books, so invariably beautiful -and satisfying. He explained--before very few pupils, because the -evil fame of the _Gebürt_ withdrew young philologists from him--the -_Choephores of Æschylus_ and some passages of ante-Platonic philosophy. - -Across a gulf of twenty-five centuries that clear radiance descended -upon him, scattering all doubts and shadows. Nietzsche often heard with -misgiving the fine words which it pleased his Wagnerian friends to use. -"Millions of men embrace each other," the chorus sang at Bayreuth in -the work of Wagner. It sang well, but, after all, men did not embrace -each other; and here Nietzsche suspected a certain extravagance, a -certain falsehood. Look at the ancient Greeks, those ambitious and evil -men. They do not embrace each other much, their hymns never speak of -embraces. They desire to excel, and are devoured by envy; their hymns -glorify these passions. Nietzsche liked their naïve energy, their -precise speech. He refreshed himself at this source and wrote a short -essay: _Homer's Wettkampf (The Homeric Joust)._ We find ourselves -driven at the very beginning far away from the Wagnerian mysticism. - -"When you speak of _Humanity,_" he writes, "you imagine an order of -sentiment by which man distinguishes himself from nature, but such a -separation does not exist; these qualities called 'natural' and those -called 'human' grow together and are blended. Man in his noblest -aspirations is still branded by sinister nature. - -"These formidable tendencies which seem inhuman are perhaps the -fruitful soil which supports all humanity, its agitations, its acts, -and its work. - -"Thus it is that the Greeks, the most human of all men, remain cruel, -happy in destruction." - -This rapid sketch was the occupation of a few days. Nietzsche undertook -a long work. He studied the texts of Thales, Pythagoras, Heraclitus, -Empedocles. He tried to approach those philosophers who were truly -worthy of the name which they themselves had invented, those masters of -life, scornful of argument and of books; citizens and at the same time -thinkers, and not _déracinés_ like those who followed them--Socrates -and his school of mockers, Plato and his school of dreamers, -philosophers of whom each one dares to bring a philosophy of his own, -that is to say, an individual point of view in the consideration of -things, in the deliberation of acts. Nietzsche, in a few days, filled a -copybook with notes. - -All the same, he continued to be interested in the successes of his -glorious friend. In July _Tristan_ was played at Munich. He went, and -met many other disciples; Gersdorff, Fräulein von Meysenbug, whom he -had met at the May festivals of Bayreuth. She had preserved, despite -her fifty years, that tender charm that never left her, and the -physical grace of a frail and nervous body. Friedrich Nietzsche passed -some pleasant days in the company of his comrade and his new friend. -All three regretted them when they were gone, and at the moment of -departure expressed a hope of meeting each other soon again. Gersdorff -wished to return in August to hear _Tristan,_ and once more Nietzsche -promised to be there, but at the last moment Gersdorff was unable to be -present, and Nietzsche had not the courage to return alone to Munich. -"It is insupportable," he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "to find -yourself face to face with an art so serious and profound. In short, I -remain at Basle." Parmenides, on whom he was meditating, consoled him -for the loss of _Tristan._ - -Fräulein von Meysenbug kept Nietzsche advised of all news, whether -trivial or important, in connection with the Wagnerian campaign. The -master had just terminated _The Twilight of the Gods,_ the last of -the four dramas of the Tetralogy. He had at last finished his great -work. Fräulein von Meysenbug was informed in a note written to her by -Cosima Wagner. "In my heart I hear sung 'Praise be to God,'" wrote the -wife. "Praise be to God," repeated Fräulein von Meysenbug, and she -adds--these few words indicate the tone of the place and of the time: -"The disciples of the new spirit need new mysteries by which they may -solemnise together their instinctive knowledge. Wagner creates them -in his tragic works, and the world will not have recovered its beauty -until we have built for the new Dionysian myth a Temple worthy of -it." Fräulein von Meysenbug confided to Nietzsche the measures she -was taking to win Marguerite of Savoy, the Queen of Italy, to the -cause, and to make her accept the Presidency of a small circle of -noble patronesses. A few women of the highest aristocracy, friends -of Liszt's, initiated by him into the Wagnerian cult, composed this -sublime _Verein._ - -In all this there was an irritating atmosphere of snobbery and -excessive religiosity. Yet Fräulein von Meysenbug was an exquisite -woman with irreproachable intentions, pure with that purity which -purifies all that it touches: Nietzsche did not practise his criticism -on this friend's letters. He soon felt the fatigue of continuous work. -He lost his sleep and was obliged to rest. Travel had often lightened -his mind. He set out, at the end of summer, for Italy, and went as -far as Bergamo but no further. This country, which he was afterwards -to love so much, displeased him. "Here reigns the Apollonian cult," -Fräulein von Meysenbug, who was staying at Florence, told him; "it -is good to bathe in." Nietzsche was very little of an Apollonian. He -perceived only voluptuousness, excessive sweetness, harmony of line. -His German tastes were disconcerted and he returned to the mountains, -where he became, as he wrote, "more audacious and more noble." There, -in a poor village inn at Splügen, he had a few days of happiness. - -"Here, on the extreme border of Switzerland and Italy," he wrote in -August, 1872, to Gersdorff, "I am alone, and I am very well satisfied -with my choice. A rich and marvellous solitude, with the most -magnificent roads in the world, along which I go meditating for hours, -buried in my thoughts, and yet I never fall over a precipice. And -whenever I look around me there is something new and great to see. No -sign of life except when the diligence arrives and stops for relays. -I take my meals with the men, our one contact. They pass like the -Platonic shadows before my cave." - -Until now Nietzsche had not cared much for high mountains; he preferred -the moderate valleys and woods of the Jura, which reminded him of -his native country, the hills of the Saale and Bohemia. At Splügen a -new joy was revealed to him; the joy of solitude and of meditation -in the mountain air. It was like a flash of lightning. He went down -to the plains and forgot; but six years later, with the knowledge of -his eternal loneliness on him, he found, sheltered in mean inns like -this one, once again the same lyrical élan that he had discovered in -October, 1872. - -He soon left his sanctuary and returned without vexation to Basle, -whither his professional duties drew him. There he had made friendships -and established a way of life. He liked the town, and tolerated the -inhabitants. Basle had truly become his centre. "Overbeck and Romundt, -my companions of table and of thought," he writes to Rohde, "are the -best society in the world. With them I cease my lamentations and my -gnashing of teeth. Overbeck is the most serious, the most broad-minded -of philosophers, and the most simple and amiable of men. He has that -radical temper, failing which I can agree with no one." - -His first impression on his return was trying. All his pupils left -him. He was not at a loss to understand the reason of this exodus; -the German philologists had declared him to be "a man scientifically -dead." They had condemned him personally, and put an interdict upon his -lectures. "The Holy Vehmgericht has done its duty well," he wrote to -Rohde. "Let us act as if nothing had happened. But I do not like the -little University to suffer on my account, it hurts me. We lose twenty -entries in the last half-year. I can hardly as much as give a course on -Greek and Latin rhetoric. I have two pupils, one is a Germanist, the -other a Jurist." - -At last he received some comfort. Rohde had written in defence of -his book an article which no review would accept. Weary of refusal, -he touched up his work and published it under the form of a letter -addressed to Richard Wagner. Nietzsche thanked him. "Nobody dared to -print my name," he wrote to Rohde. - -"... It was as if I had committed a crime, and now your book comes, -so ardent, so daring a witness to our fraternal combat! My friends -are delighted with it. They are never tired of praising you, for the -details and the whole; they think your polemics worthy of a Lessing. -... What pleases me most is the deep and threatening clamour of it, -like the sound of a waterfall. We must be brave, dear, dear friend. I -always have faith in progress, in our progress. I believe that we will -always go on increasing in loyal ambitions, and in strength. I believe -in the success of our advance towards ends more noble yet, and more -aspiring. Yes, we will reach them, and then as conquerors, who discover -goals yet further off, we shall push on, always brave! What does it -matter to us that they will be few, so few, those spectators whose eyes -can follow the path we are pursuing? What does it matter if we have for -spectators only those who have the necessary qualities for judging this -combat? All the crowns which my time might give me I sacrifice to that -unique spectator, Wagner. The ambition to satisfy him animates me more, -and more nobly, than any other influence. Because he is difficult and -he says everything, what pleases him and what displeases him; he is my -good conscience, to praise and to punish." - -At the commencement of December, Nietzsche was lucky enough to find -his master again for a few hours, and to live with him in the intimate -way that reminded him of the days at Triebschen. Wagner, passing -through Strassburg, called to him; and he went at once. The meeting -was untroubled by any discord, a harmony now, no doubt, rare enough; -for Cosima Wagner, after having remarked this in one of her letters, -expressed the hope that such perfect hours would suffice to dissipate -all misunderstandings and to prevent their recrudescence. - - * * * * * - -Nietzsche worked a great deal during these last months of 1872. His -studies on the tragic philosophies of the Greeks were well advanced; -he left them over. Those wise men had restored his serenity, and he -profited by the help which they had given him to contemplate once more -the problems of his century. The problems--this is hardly a correct -expression, for he knew of only one. He questioned himself how a -culture should be founded, that is to say, a harmony of traditions, of -rules, of beliefs, by submission to which a man may become nobler. -Actual modern societies have for their end the production of certain -comforts; how should different societies be substituted which would -not only satisfy men, but benefit them? Let us know our wretchedness; -we are stripped of culture. Our thoughts and our acts are not ruled by -the authority of any style; the idea even of such an authority is lost -to us. We have perfected in an extraordinary manner the discipline of -knowledge, and we seem to have forgotten that others exist. We succeed -in describing the phenomena of life, in translating the Universe into -an abstract language, and we scarcely perceive that, in writing and -translating thus, we lose the reality of the Universe of Life. Science -exercises on us a "barbarising action," wrote Nietzsche. He analysed -this action. - -"The essential point of all science has become merely accessory, or -else it is entirely absent. - -"The study of languages--without the discipline of style and rhetoric. - -"Indian studies--without philosophy. - -"Classical antiquity--without a suspicion of how closely everything in -it is bound up with practical efforts. - -"The sciences of nature--without that beneficent and serene atmosphere -which Goethe found in them. - -"History--without enthusiasm. - -"In short, all the sciences without their practical uses, that is to -say, studied otherwise than as really cultivated men would study them. -Science as a means of livelihood." - -It is necessary, therefore, that the sense of beauty, of virtue, and of -strong and regulated passions should be restored. How can a philosopher -employ himself in this task? Alas! the experience of antiquity teaches -and discourages us. The philosopher is a hybrid being, half logician, -half artist, a poet, an apostle, who constructs his dreams and his -commandments in a logical manner. Men listen willingly enough to poets -and apostles, they do not listen to philosophers, they are not moved by -their analyses and their deductions. Consider that long line of genius, -the philosophers of tragic Greece. What did they realise? Their lives -were given in vain to their race. Empedocles alone moved the mob, but -he was as much a magician as philosopher; he invented myths and poems; -he was eloquent, he was magnificent; it was the legend, and not the -thought of Empedocles, that was effective. Pythagoras founded a sect, -a philosopher cannot hope for more: his labour grouped together a few -friends, a few disciples, who passed over the human masses like a -ripple on the ocean; not one of the great philosophers has swayed the -people, writes Nietzsche. Where they have failed, who will succeed? It -is impossible to found a popular culture on philosophy. - -What is then the destiny of these singular souls? Is their force, which -is at times immense, lost? Will the philosopher always be a paradoxical -being, and useless to men? Friedrich Nietzsche was troubled; it was -the utility of his own life that he questioned. He would never be a -musician, that he knew at last; never a poet, he had ceased to hope -for it. He had not the faculty of conceiving the uniformities, of -animating a drama, of creating a soul. One evening he confessed this to -Overbeck with such sadness that his friend was moved. He was therefore -a philosopher, moreover, a very ignorant one, an amateur of philosophy, -an imperfect lyrical artist; and he questioned himself: Since I have -for weapons only my thoughts, the thoughts of a philosopher, what can -I do? He answered: I can help. Socrates did not create the truths that -error kept prisoners in the souls of his interlocutors, he only aspired -to the title of accoucheur. Such is the task of a philosopher. He is -an inefficient creator, but a very efficient critic. He is obliged -to analyse the forces which are operative around him, in science, in -religion, and in art; he is obliged to give the directions, to fix the -values and the limits. Such shall be my task. I will study the souls -of my contemporaries, and I shall have every authority to say to them: -Neither science nor religion can save you; seek refuge in art, the -power of modern times, and in the artist who is Richard Wagner. "The -philosopher of the future," he wrote, "he must be the supreme judge of -an æsthetic culture, a censor of every digression." - -Nietzsche went to Naumburg for the Christmas holidays. Wagner sent -him word to ask him to stop at Bayreuth on his way home to Basle, but -he was hard pressed by work and perhaps a little ill, and no doubt -a secret instinct warned him that solitude would be best for the -meditation of the problems which he had to determine for himself. -He made his apologies. Besides, he had had for some weeks many -opportunities of proving his attachment. He had written an article (the -only one in all his work) in answer to an alienist who had undertaken -to prove that Wagner was mad. He had offered a sum of money to help in -the propaganda. This anonymous and distant manner was the only one that -suited him at the time. Even at Basle he tried to found a Wagnerian -Verein. He was therefore astounded when he discovered that the master -was displeased at his absence. Already in the past year an invitation, -also declined, had helped to provoke a mild lecture. - -"It is Burckhardt who is keeping you at Basle," wrote Cosima Wagner. -Nietzsche wrote and remedied things, but the painful impression -remained. - -"Everything is quieted," he told the friend who had informed him; "but -I cannot quite forget. Wagner knows that I am ill, absorbed in work, -and in need of a little liberty. I shall be, henceforth, whether I -wish it or no, more anxious than in the past. God knows how many times -I have wounded him. Each time I am astonished, and I never succeed in -precisely locating the point in which we have clashed." - -This annoyance did not affect his thought; we can follow it to its -smallest shades of meaning, thanks to the notes published in the tenth -volume of his complete works. It is quite active and fecund. "I am the -adventurer of the spirit," he was to write. "I wander in my thought. I -go to the idea that calls me...." - -He was never to wander so audaciously as in the first weeks of 1876. - -He completed a finer and sober essay, _Ueber Wahrheit und Lüge im -ausser moralischen Sinne (On Truth and Falsehood in an Extra-Moral -Sense.)_ (It is a pity that it is necessary to translate these -high-sounding expressions, and we render them word for word.) Nietzsche -always liked high-sounding words; he does not recoil here from using -the word "untruth," and essays for the first time a "reversal of -values." To the true he opposes the false and prefers it. He exalts the -imaginary worlds which poets add to the real world. "Dare to deceive -thyself and dream," Schiller had said; Friedrich Nietzsche repeats -this advice. It was the happy audacity of the Greeks; they intoxicated -themselves with their divine histories, their heroic myths, and this -intoxication set their souls on high adventures. The loyal Athenian, -persuaded that Pallas dwelt in his city, lived in a dream. More -clear-sighted, would he have been stronger; more passionate, braver? -Truth is good in proportion to the services which it assures, and -illusion is preferable if it performs its duty better. Why deify the -truth? It is the tendency of the moderns; _Pereat vita, fiat veritas!_ -they say readily. Why this fanaticism? It is an inversion of the sane -law for men: _Pereat Veritas, fiat vita!_ - -Nietzsche wrote down these dogmatic formulas, but did not stop at them. -He went on writing. It was thus that he worked and advanced in his -researches. Let us not forget that these thoughts, firm though they -were in manner, were only indications, steps on the road. He would -give birth to other and perhaps contrary thoughts. Friedrich Nietzsche -had in him two instincts, opposed to each other; the one, that of the -philosopher, and the other, that of the artist; the one was bent on -truth, the other was ready to fabricate. He hesitated at the moment -when he had to sacrifice one or the other. The instinct for the true -protested within him. He did not abandon his formulas; he took them up -again, he essayed new definitions, he indicated the difficulties, the -hiatus. His thoughts had no disguise, and we can follow his researches. -Let us translate this significant disorder: - -"_The philosopher of the tragic knowledge._ He binds the disordered -instinct of knowledge, but not by a new metaphysic. He does not -establish new beliefs. He sees with a tragic emotion that the ground -of metaphysics opens under him, and he knows that the many-coloured -whirlwind of science can never satisfy him. He builds for himself a new -life; to art he restores its rights. - -"_The philosopher of the desperate knowledge_ abandons himself to blind -science: knowledge at any price. - -"Even if metaphysics be only an anthropomorphic appearance, for the -tragic philosopher that achieves the _image of being._ He is not -sceptical. Here there is an idea to create; for scepticism is not the -end. The instinct of knowledge forced to its extreme limits turns -against itself to transform itself into a criticism of the faculty of -knowledge. Knowledge in the service of the best kind of life. One -should even _will illusion,_ therein lies the tragic." - -What is then this philosopher of the desperate knowledge whose attitude -Nietzsche defines in two lines. Must he not love him, having found for -him already such a beautiful name? _There is an idea to create,_ writes -Nietzsche; what then is this idea? It seems that in many passages -Nietzsche is pleased to contemplate, without its veils, that terrible -reality, whose aspect alone, says the Hindu legend, means death. - -"How," he writes, "do they dare talk of a destiny for the earth? In -infinite time and space there are no ends: _what is there, is eternally -there,_ whatever the forms. What can result from it for a metaphysical -world one does not see. - -"Without support of this order humanity should stand firm; a terrible -task for the artist! - -"The terrible consequences of Darwinism, in which, moreover, I believe. -We respect certain qualities which we hold as eternal, moral, artistic, -religious, &c, &c, &c. The spirit, a production of the brain, to -consider it as supernatural! To deify it, what folly! - -"To speak of an unconscious end of humanity, to me, that is false. -Humanity is not a whole like an ant-hill. Perhaps one may speak of the -unconscious ends of an ant-hill--but of all the ant-hills of the world! - -"Our duty is not to take shelter in metaphysics, but actively to -sacrifice ourselves to the _birth of culture._ Hence my severity -against misty idealism." - -At that instant Nietzsche had almost reached the term of his thought, -but with great labour and consequent suffering. Headaches, pains in -the eyes and stomach, laid hold of him once more. The softest light -hurt him, he was obliged to give up reading. Nevertheless, his thought -never halted. He was again occupied with the philosophers of tragic -Greece; he listened to the words which come down to us diminished by -the centuries, but always firm. He heard the concert of the everlasting -responses-- - -_Thales._ Everything derives from a unique element. _Anaximander._ The -flux of things is their punishment. _Heraclitus._ A law governs the -flux and the institution of things. - -_Parmenides._ The flux and the institution of things is illusion. The -One alone exists. - -_Anaxagoras._ All qualities are eternal; there is no becoming. - -_The Pythagoreans._ All qualities are quantities. _Empedocles._ -All causes are magical. _Democritus._ All causes are mechanical. -_Socrates._ Nothing is constant except thought. - -Friedrich Nietzsche is moved by these opposing voices, by these rhythms -of thought which accuse nature in their eternal collisions. "The -vicissitudes of the ideas and systems of man affect me more tragically -than the vicissitudes of real life," said Hölderlin. Nietzsche's -feeling was the same. He admired and envied those primitives who -discovered nature and who found the first answers. He threw aside the -devices of art, he confronted life as Œdipus confronted the Sphinx, -and under this very title _Œdipus_ he wrote a fragment to the -mysterious language of which we may open our ears. - -_Œdipus._ I call myself the last philosopher because I am the last -man. I speak alone and I hear my voice sounding like that of a dying -man. With thee, dear voice, whose breath brings to me the last memories -of all human happiness, with thee let me speak yet a moment more: -thou wilt deceive my solitude; thou wilt give me back the illusion -of society and love, because my heart will not believe that love is -dead. It cannot endure the terror of the most solitary solitude, and -forces me to speak as if I were two. Is it thou that I hear, my voice? -Thou murmurest, and thou cursest? Yet--thy malediction should rend -the entrails of the world! Alas, in spite of everything it subsists, -more dazzling and colder than ever; it looks at me with its stars -pitilessly; it exists blind and deaf as before, and nothing dies but -man. And yet, you still speak to me, beloved voice! I die not alone in -this universe. I, the last man: the last plaint, your plaint, dies with -me. Misery, misery! pity me, the last man of misery, Œdipus! - -It seems that Nietzsche, now at the extreme limits of his thought, -experiences a sudden need of rest. He wants to speak to his friends, to -feel himself surrounded by them and diverted. The Easter holidays in -1873 gave him a fortnight's release. He left for Bayreuth, where he was -not expected. - -"I leave this evening," he writes to Fräulein von Meysenbug. "Guess -where I am going? You've guessed, and, height of bliss, I shall meet -the best of men, Rohde, to-morrow at half-past four. I shall be staying -with Wagner, and then see me quite happy! We shall speak much of you, -much of Gersdorff. He has copied my lectures, you say? It touches -me, and I will not forget it. What good friends I have! It is really -shameful. - -"I hope to bring back from Bayreuth courage and gaiety, and to -strengthen myself in everything that is good. I dreamt last night -that I was having my _Gradus ad Parnassum_ carefully rebound. This -mixture of bookbinding and symbolism is comprehensible; moreover, -very insipid. But it is a truth! It is necessary from time to time to -rebind ourselves by frequenting men more valorous and stronger than -ourselves or else we lose a few of our pages, then a few more, still a -few more, until the last page is destroyed. And that our life should be -a _Gradus ad Parnassum,_ that also is a truth that we must often repeat -to ourselves. The future to which I shall attain if I take plenty of -trouble, if I have a little happiness and much time, is to become a -more sober writer, and from the first and ever better to pursue my -calling as a man of letters more soberly. From time to time I feel a -childish repugnance to printed paper, I think that I see soiled paper. -And I can very well picture a period when reading was not much liked, -writing even less so; but one far preferred to think a lot, and to act -still more. For everything to-day awaits that efficacious man, who, -condemning in himself and us our millenarian routines, will live better -and will give us his life to imitate." - -Friedrich Nietzsche left for Bayreuth. - - * * * * * - -He there learnt a piece of unexpected news. Money was lacking. Of the -twelve hundred thousand francs needed, eight hundred thousand only had -been realised with great difficulty. The enterprise was compromised -and perhaps ruined. Everyone was losing heart. The master alone was -confident and calm. Since he had attained his manhood, he had desired -to possess a theatre. He knew that a constant will prevails over -chance, and a few months of crisis did not alarm him after forty years -of waiting. Capitalists from Berlin, Munich, Vienna, London, and -Chicago were making proposals to him which Richard Wagner invariably -refused to entertain. He wished his theatre to belong to himself alone, -and to be near him: "It is not a question of the success of the -affair," he said, "but of awakening the hidden forces of the German -soul." But his remarkable serenity failed to reassure his friends. A -panic was engendered at Bayreuth, and no one again dared to hope. - -Friedrich Nietzsche looked on, listened, observed, and then fled to -Naumburg. "My despair was deep," he has written; "there was nothing -that did not seem criminal to me." He was rediscovering the world after -ten months of solitude, and finding it even more cowardly and more -miserable than he had ever judged it to be. There was worse to endure, -for he was discontented with himself. He recalled his last meditations. -"I call myself the last philosopher, because I am the last man." And -he questioned himself: Was he really "the last philosopher"? "the -last man"? Had he not flattered himself in assigning himself a rôle -so difficult and magnificent? Had he not been ungrateful, cowardly, -and vile, like the others, in abandoning the struggle at the decisive -moment to shut himself up in his solitude and his selfish dreams? Had -he not forgotten his master? He accused himself; remorse accentuated -his despair. "I should not think of myself," was his reproach--"Wagner -alone is a hero--Wagner, so great in misfortune, great as of old at -Triebschen. It is he whom we must serve. I must henceforth be vowed to -help him." - -It had been his intention to publish a few chapters of his book on _The -Philosophers of Tragic Greece._ He abstained from this delight; put -away in a drawer--not without a pang--his almost finished manuscript. -He wished to "spit out lava," to insult Germany and treat her like a -brute, since, imbecile brute that she was, she would only yield to -brutality. - -"I return from Bayreuth in such a state of persistent melancholy," he -wrote to Rohde, "that the only hope for me is holy wrath." - -Friedrich Nietzsche looked for no joy in the work which he was about to -undertake. To attack is to recognise, to condescend, to lower oneself. -He would have preferred to have had no traffic with base humanity. But -here was Richard Wagner; was it to be borne that he should be tormented -and trammelled? that the Germans should sadden him as they saddened -Goethe, and break him, as they broke Schiller? To-morrow other men -of genius would be born: was it not necessary to fight from to-day -to assure them their liberty and the freedom of their lives? It is -impossible to ignore the masses that beset us. It is a bitter destiny, -but one that may not be eluded. It is the destiny of the best-born, and -above all of the best Germans, heroes begotten and misunderstood by a -race insensible to beauty. - -Friedrich Nietzsche remembered what Goethe had said of Lessing: "Pity -this extraordinary man, pity him that he lived in such a pitiable -era, that he was forced to act ceaselessly by polemics." He applied -this to himself, but polemics seemed to be a duty to him, as in other -times they had been to Lessing. He looked round for an adversary. The -illustrious D. F. Strauss now represented official philosophy; he was -its heavy pontiff. Having renounced the critical researches, in which -he was a real master, he was affecting, in his old age, the attitude of -a thinker, and was elaborating his _Credo_ with sham elegances borrowed -from Voltaire and About. - -"I simply propose," he wrote in _The Old Faith and the New_, "to say -how we live--how for long years past we have been wont to direct our -lives. By the side of our professions--for we belong to the most -diverse professions; we are not all artists or scholars, but also -officials, soldiers, artisans, or proprietors, and, I have already said -and I repeat it, our number is not small, we are many thousand, and -not of the worst, in every country--by the side of our professions, I -say, we try, as far as possible, to keep our minds open to the highest -interests of humanity; our hearts are exalted by these new destinies, -as unforeseen as they are magnificent, assigned by Fate to our country -which formerly endured so much. The better to understand these things, -we study history, to which easy access is opened to the first comer -by a number of both popular and attractive works. And then we try to -extend our knowledge of nature by the aid of manuals which are within -reach of everybody. Finally we find in reading our great poets, in -hearing our great musicians, stimulants for spirit and feeling, for the -imagination and the heart, stimulants which in truth leave nothing to -be desired. Thus we live, thus we march forward in happiness." - -So the Philistines are happy and very rightly, thought Nietzsche: this -is the era of their power. Assuredly the species is not new. Even -Attica had its abettors of "banausia." But the Philistine formerly -lived under humiliating conditions. He was merely tolerated. He was -not talked of, nor did he talk. Then a more indulgent period arrived, -in which he was listened to, his follies flattered; he appeared droll. -This was enough: he became a fop, proud of his _prudhommerie._ To-day -he triumphs; it is impossible to hold him back. He becomes a fanatic, -and founds a religion: it is the new faith, of which Strauss is the -prophet. Friedrich Nietzsche would have assuredly approved of that -classification of the ages which Gustave Flaubert suggested about this -time: "_Paganisme, christianisme, muflisme_" (Paganism, Christianity, -Snout-ism). The Philistine dictates his tastes, and imposes his -mannerisms. A war breaks out: he reads his paper, the telegrams -interest him, and contribute to his happiness. Great men have suffered, -and have left us their works: the Philistine knows these works, and -appreciates them--they add to his well-being. Moreover, he appreciates -with discernment. The Pastoral Symphony ravishes him, but he condemns -the exaggerated uproar of the Symphony with chorus. David Friedrich -Strauss says it distinctly: and that clear mind of his is not to be -deceived. - -Friedrich Nietzsche sought no further; he had found the man whom he -wished to destroy. In the first days of May he had all his notes in -hand, his work was ready. His strength suddenly gave out: his aching -head, his eyes that could not bear the light without pain, played -traitor to his desire to work; in a few days he was all but an invalid, -almost blind. Overbeck and Romundt did their best to help him. But -they had, both of them, other work; their time was measured by their -professional duties. A third friend came to give assistance to the -invalid. The Baron von Gersdorff, a man of leisure and a devoted -friend, was travelling in Italy. He had been Friedrich Nietzsche's -comrade at the college of Pforta, and since those already distant days -had scarcely seen him again, but his friendship had remained intact. -He hastened to Basle. He was a younger son of good family. His elder -brothers having died, one in 1866 in the Austrian campaign, the other -in 1871 in the French campaign, he had been obliged to sacrifice his -tastes, to renounce philosophy and learn farming so as to be able to -manage the family estate in North Germany. He was the only one of -Nietzsche's friends who was not a slave to paper and books. "He is a -fine type of the reserved and dignified gentleman, although extremely -simple in his manners," wrote Overbeck; "at bottom the best fellow -imaginable, and at the first glance you are left with the impression -of a man who is entirely trustworthy." A friend of Romundt's, Paul -Rée, also came to help or distract the invalid, who, thanks to so -many kindnesses, was able to resist his sufferings. Lying always in -semi-darkness, he dictated: the faithful Gersdorff wrote down what -he had to say, and by the end of June the manuscript was sent to the -publisher. - -Friedrich Nietzsche's condition improved when he had finished his work. -He felt a great need of fresh air and of solitude. His sister, who -had come from Naumburg, took him to the mountains of the Grisons. His -headaches grew less severe, his eyesight became stronger. He rested -for a few weeks, correcting his proofs, rejoicing in his new-found -strength, but always haunted by his angers and his aspirations. - -One day, while walking with his sister on the outskirts of Flimms, he -came on a little _château_ in a sequestered site. "What a beautiful -retreat," he said; "what a beautiful spot in which to establish our lay -convent." The _château_ was for sale. "Let us visit it," said the young -girl. They went in, and were delighted with everything: the garden, -the terrace from which a wide view stretched out before them, the big -hall with its chimney-piece of sculptured stone. The rooms were few, -but why should there be more? This would be given to Richard Wagner, -that to Cosima Wagner, this other would be at the disposal of friends -of passage, Fräulein von Meysenbug or Jacob Burckhardt. Gersdorff, -Deussen, Rohde, Overbeck, Romundt, would often reside there. "Here," -declared Nietzsche, "we will build a covered walk, a sort of cloister. -Thus, in every kind of weather, we can walk as we talk. For we shall -talk much, we shall read but little, and write hardly at all." - -He returned to his familiar dream once again, fraternal intercourse -between disciples and masters. Fräulein Nietzsche grew very excited. -"You will need a woman to keep house," she said. "It will be I." She -enquired about the price and wrote to the proprietor, but matters were -not arranged. - -"I looked too young," wrote Fräulein Nietzsche, who tells the -anecdote, "and the gardener did not take us seriously." What are we to -think of this affair? It is hard to know. Was it only the chatter of a -young girl to which Friedrich Nietzsche had hearkened for an instant? -Or was it, on the contrary, a serious notion? Probably the latter. His -spirit, hospitable to chimeras, ill knew what the world admits and what -it does not admit. He came back to Basle. His pamphlet had provoked a -good deal of discussion. "I read it, and re-read it," wrote Wagner, -"and I swear to the great gods that I hold you to be the only one who -knows what I want." "Your pamphlet is a thunderbolt," wrote Hans von -Bülow. "A modern Voltaire ought to write: _écr.... l'inf...._ This -international æsthetic is for us a far more odious adversary than red -or black bandits." - -Other good judges, elderly men in many cases, approved of the young -polemist; Ewald (of Gottingen), Bruno Bauer, Karl Hildebrandt, "_dieses -letzten humanen Deutschen,"_ said Nietzsche--"this last of the human -Germans"--declared for him. "This little book," wrote the critic, -"may mark a return of the German spirit towards serious thought and -intellectual passion." - -But these friendly voices were few. - -"The German Empire," he had written, "is extirpating the German -spirit." He had wounded the pride of a conquering people. In return, -he suffered many an insult, many an accusation of scurviness and -treachery. He rejoiced over it. "I enter society with a duel," he -said; "Stendhal gave that advice." Complete Stendhalian that he -was (or at least he flattered himself that he was), Nietzsche was, -notwithstanding, accessible to pity. David Strauss died but a few weeks -after the publication of the pamphlet, and Nietzsche, imagining that -his work had killed the old man, was sorely grieved. His sister and his -friends tried in vain to reassure him; he did not wish to abandon a -remorse which was, moreover, so glorious. - -Stimulated by this first conflict, he dreamt of vaster conflicts. With -extraordinary rapidity of conception he prepared a series of treatises -which he wished to publish under a general title: _Unzeitgemässe -Betrachtungen_ ("Thoughts Out of Season"). D. F. Strauss had furnished -the subject of the first of the series. The second was to be entitled -_The Use and Abuse of History._ Twenty others were to follow. His -friends, ever the associates of his dreams, would contribute, he -thought, to the work. - -Franz Overbeck had just published a little book entitled _The -Christianity of our Modern Theology._ He attacked the German savants -and their too modernist tendencies, which attenuated Christianity, -and allowed the irrevocable and serious doctrine, which was that of -the early Christians, to fall into oblivion. Nietzsche had Overbeck's -_Christlichkeit_ and his _D. F. Strauss_ bound together. On the outside -page he wrote six lines of verse. - -"Two twins of the same house enter joyfully into the world--to devour -the dragons of the world. Two fathers, one work. Oh, miracle! The -mother of these twins is called Friendship."[1] - -Friedrich Nietzsche hoped for a series of similar volumes, the work of -many hands but inspired by one spirit. - -"With a hundred men bred up to the conflict of modern ideas, inured -to heroism," he then wrote, "all our noisy and lazy culture would be -reduced to eternal silence. A hundred men of that stamp carried the -civilisation of the Renaissance on their shoulders." A double hope and -a vain one: his friends failed him, and he himself did not write his -twenty pamphlets. Only their titles, and a few pages of rough outline, -are left to us. On _The State, The City, The Social Crisis, Military -Culture,_ on _Religion,_ what had he to tell us? Let us moderate our -regrets; little perhaps; little, at all events, that could be called -precious, as distinct from his desires and his complaints. - -He was also busy with another work, and announced it to Gersdorff in -mysterious terms: "Let it be enough for you to know that a danger, a -terrible and unexpected one, menaces Bayreuth, and that the task of -digging the countermine has fallen to me." In fact, Richard Wagner had -begged him to write a supreme appeal to the Germans, and he applied -himself to the task of drawing it up with all the gravity, all the -profundity, all the solemnity of which he was capable. He demanded -Erwin Rohde's assistance and advice. "Can I count on it that you will -send me soon," he wrote, "a fragment drawn up in the Napoleonic style?" -Erwin Rohde, a prudent man, declined. "One would have to be polite," he -said, "when the only true thing for the rabble is insult." Friedrich -Nietzsche did not embarrass himself with politeness. - -At the end of October the presidents of the Wagner Vereine, assembled -united at Bayreuth, invited Friedrich Nietzsche to read his manifesto, -_A Summons[2] to the Germans._ - -"We wish to be listened to, for we speak in order to give a warning; -and he who warns, whoever he be, whatever he says, always has the right -to be heard.... We lift our voices because you are in danger, and -because, seeing you so mute, so indifferent, so callous, we fear for -you.... We speak to you in all sincerity of heart, and we seek and -desire our good only because it is also yours: the salvation and the -honour of the German spirit, and of the German name...." - -The manifesto was developed in the same menacing and rather emphatic -tone, and the reading was received in an embarrassing silence. There -was no murmur of approval, no look of encouragement for the writer. -He was silent. At last some voices made themselves heard. "It is too -serious; it is not politic enough, there must be changes, a great many -changes." Some opined, "It is a monk's sermon." He did not wish to -argue, and withdrew his draft of a summons. Wagner alone had supported -him with a great deal of energy. "Wait," said he; "in a little time, -a very little time, they will be obliged to return to your challenge, -they will all conform to it." - -Nietzsche remained very few days at Bayreuth. The situation, which had -been serious at Easter, was now desperate. The public, who for some -months had gibed at the great enterprise, now forgot all about it. A -formidable indifference stood in the way of the propagandists, and -every day it seemed more difficult to collect the necessary money. All -idea of a commercial loan, of a lottery, had been set aside. An appeal -written in haste to replace that of Nietzsche was spread all over -Germany; ten thousand copies were printed, an infinitesimal number were -sold. A letter was addressed to the directors of one hundred German -theatres. Each was asked to give as a subscription to Bayreuth its -receipts at a single benefit performance. Three refused, the others did -not reply. - - - -Friedrich Nietzsche returned to Basle. He succeeded, with the aid of -Gersdorff, in drawing up his second "Thoughts Out of Season," _The -Use and Abuse of History._ But he wrote few letters, few notes, he -formed no new project, and for the moment almost entirely escapes from -our study. The double hope of his youth, that he might assist at the -triumph of Wagner, and have a share in achieving this triumph, was -ruined. His help had been refused. He had been told: "Your text is too -grave, too solemn." And he asks himself, What does this mean? Is not -the art of Wagner a matter of supreme gravity and solemnity? He is -unhappy, humiliated, wounded in his _amour propre_ and in his dreams. -During these last weeks of 1873 he lived like an earthworm in his room -at Basle. - -He went to spend the New Year holidays at Naumburg. There, alone with -his own people, he picked up some strength. He had always liked the -repose of anniversaries, which was so favourable to reflection, and, as -a young man, never allowed the feast of Saint Sylvester to pass without -putting on paper a meditation on his life, his memories, and his views -of the future. On December 31, 1873, he wrote to Erwin Rohde; the tone -of his letter recalls his former habit. - -"The _Letters of an Heretical Æsthete,_ by Karl Hildebrandt, have given -me inordinate pleasure," he wrote. "What a refreshment! Read, admire, -he is one of ours, he is of the society of those who hope. May it -prosper in the New Year, this society, may we remain good comrades! Ah! -dear friend, one has no choice, one must be either of those who hope, -or of those who despair. Once and for all I have decided on hope. Let -us remain faithful and helpful to one another in this year 1874 and -until the end of our days. - -"Yours, - -"FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE. - -"NAUMBURG, _Saint Sylvester's,_ 1873-74." - -The first days of January came, and Friedrich Nietzsche applied himself -to work once more. Since the strange misadventure at Bayreuth (no doubt -the irritation of an author, whose aid has been rejected, accounts for -these unforeseen changes), he has been tormented by anxieties and by -doubts; he wished to clear them up. In two lines, which are like an -introduction to his thoughts of the time, he brings the Wagnerian art -into history. "Every thought that is great," he writes, "is dangerous, -and dangerous, above all, in its newness. The impression is that of an -isolated phenomenon which justifies itself by itself." Then, having -posited this general principle, he approached the definitive questions: -"What kind of man is Wagner? What does his art signify?" - -It was a catastrophe in fairyland. The modern Æschylus, the modern -Pindar vanished; the beautiful metaphysical and religious decorations -fell in, and the art of Wagner appeared as it really was--an art, -the late, magnificent, and often sickly flower of a humanity fifteen -centuries old. - -"Let us really ask ourselves," wrote Nietzsche in his notes, of which -his friends did not know--"Let us really ask ourselves what is the -value of the time which adopts the art of Wagner as its art? It is -radically anarchical, a breathless thing, impious, greedy, shapeless, -uncertain of its groundwork, quick to despair--it has no simplicity, -it is self-conscious to the marrow, it lacks nobility, it is violent, -cowardly. This art unites pell mell in one mass all that still attracts -our modern German souls; aspects, ways of feeling, all comes pell -mell. A monstrous attempt of art to affirm and dominate itself in an -anti-artistic period. It is a poison against a poison." - -The demi-god was gone, and in his place was a stage-player. Nietzsche -recognised despairingly that he had allowed himself to be captured -by the gambols of a giant. He had loved with simplicity and with the -ardour of his youth, and had been deceived. There was jealousy in his -anger, and a little of that hatred which is never far from love. His -heart, his thought, of which he was so proud, he had given to a man: -this man had trifled with these sacred gifts. - -We may pass over these personal sorrows; others, even more profound, -humiliated Friedrich Nietzsche. He was humiliated because he had -betrayed Truth. He had desired to live for her; he now perceived that -for four years he had lived for Wagner. He had dared to repeat after -Voltaire, "It is necessary to tell the truth and sacrifice oneself;" -he now saw that he had neglected her, that perhaps he had shunned -her, in seeking consolation from the beauties of Wagner's art. "If -you seek for ease, believe," he had written some years before to his -young sister: "if you desire the truth, search"; and the duty which he -had indicated to this child he had himself failed to observe. He had -suffered himself to be seduced by images, by harmonies, by the magic of -words; he had fed on lies. - -His fault was graver yet, for he had consented to this abasement. The -universe is evil, he had written in _The Origin of Tragedy_--cruel -like a dissonance of notes, and the soul of man, dissonant like the -universe, suffering from itself, would detach itself from life if it -did not invent some illusion, some myth which deceives but appeases it -and procures it a refuge of beauty. In truth, if we thus draw back, -if we create our consolations for ourselves, whither will we not let -ourselves be led? One hearkens to one's weakness; there is no cowardice -that is not thus authorised. To accept is to deliver oneself over to -the illusionist. Is it a noble or a vile illusion? How can we know if -we are deceived, if we ask to be deceived? Nietzsche felt his memories -degraded, and his hopes discouraged by the bitterness of remorse. - -The _Use and Abuse of History_ appeared in February. It is a pamphlet -directed against that science, history, the invention and pride of -the moderns; it is a criticism of the faculty, recently acquired by -men, by which they reanimate within themselves the sentiments of past -centuries, at the risk of lessening the integrity of their instincts -and perplexing their rectitude. A brief indication gives the spirit of -the book. - -"The man of the future: eccentric, energetic, hot-blooded, -indefatigable, an artist, and an enemy of books. I should desire to -hunt from my ideal State the self-styled 'cultivated' men, as Plato did -the poets: it would be my terrorism." - -Thus Nietzsche affronted the ten thousand "Herr Professors" to whom -history is their daily bread and who guide the public. He was punished -by their hatred and their silence. No one spoke of his book. His -friends tried to find him some readers. Overbeck wrote to his student -friend, Treischke, the political writer, the Prussian historiographer. -"I am sure," he said to him, "that you will discern in these -contemplations of Nietzsche's the most profound, the most serious, the -most instinctive devotion to German greatness." Treischke refused his -assent; Overbeck wrote again. "It is Nietzsche, my suffering friend, of -whom I will and above all must talk to you." Treischke showed temper -in his reply and the dispute became bitter. "Your Basle," he wrote, -"is a boudoir, from which German culture is insulted!" "If you saw the -three of us, Nietzsche, Romundt, and myself," said Overbeck, "you would -see three good companions. Our difference strikes me as a painful -symbol. It is so frequent an accident, so unfortunate a feature in our -German history, this misunderstanding between political men and men -of culture." "How unlucky for you," retorted Treischke, "that you met -this Nietzsche, this madman, who tells us so much about his inactual -thoughts, and who has nevertheless been bitten to the marrow by the -most actual of all vices, the _folie des grandeurs._" - -Overbeck, Gersdorff and Rohde wretchedly watched the failure of this -book which they admired. "It is another thunderbolt," wrote Rohde; -"it will have no more effect than fireworks in a cellar. But one day -people will recognise it and will admire the courage and precision -with which he has put his finger on our worst wound. How strong he -is, our friend." And Overbeck: "The sensation of isolation that our -friend experiences is growing in a painful manner. Ever and ever to sap -the branch of the tree on which one supports oneself cannot be done -without grievous consequences." And Gersdorff: "The best thing for -our friend would be for him to imitate the Pythagoreans: five years -without reading or writing. When I am free, which will be in two or -three years, I shall return to my property: that asylum will be at his -disposal." - -These men, with their touching solicitude concerning their friend's -lot, did not suspect either the true cause or the intensity of his -distress. They pitied his solitude, they did not know how profound -it was, or how lonely he was even with them. What mattered to him -the failure of a book from which he was separated by a revolution of -thought? "As to my book," he wrote to Rohde, "I can hardly think that I -wrote it." He had discovered his error and his fault. Hence his sorrow, -hence the agony which he dared not confess. "At the present moment," he -announced to Gersdorff, "many things ferment within me, many extreme -and daring things. I do not know in what measure I may communicate -them to my best friends, but in any case I cannot write them." One -evening, however, passion carried him away. He was alone with Overbeck; -the conversation happened to turn on _Lohengrin,_ and, with a sudden -fury, Nietzsche pulled to pieces this false and romantic work. Overbeck -listened to him in amazement. Nietzsche became silent, and from that -moment was more careful to practise the pretence which shamed him and -disgusted him with himself. - -"Dear, true friend," he wrote to Gersdorff in April, 1874 "if only -you could have a far lower opinion of me! I am almost sure you will -lose those illusions that you have about me, and I would wish to be -the first to open your eyes, by explaining fully and conscientiously -that I _deserve nothing._ If you could understand how radically I am -discouraged, and from what melancholy I suffer on my own account. I -do not know if I shall ever be capable of production. Henceforward I -seek only a little liberty, a little of the real atmosphere of life, -and I am arming myself against the numerous, the unspeakably numerous, -revolting slaveries that encompass me. Shall I ever succeed? Doubt upon -doubt. The aim is too distant, and if I ever succeed in reaching it, -then I shall have consumed the better part of myself in long and trying -struggles. I shall be free and languishing like an ephemeron at dusk. I -express my lively fear! It is a misfortune to be so conscious of one's -struggles, so clairvoyant...." - -This letter was written on the 1st April On the 4th of April he sent -Fräulein von Meysenbug a letter which was quite melancholy and yet less -hopeless. - -"Dear Fräulein, what pleasure you give, and how deeply you touch me! -This is the first time that I have had flowers sent to me, but I know -now that these numberless living colours, voiceless though they be, can -speak plainly to us. These heralds of spring are blooming in my room, -and I have been able to enjoy them for more than a week. It needs must -be that, in our grey and painful lives, these flowers should come and -lay bare to us a mystery of nature. They prevent our forgetting that -it always is, and always must be, possible for us to find, somewhere -in the world, life and hope and light and colour. How often do we lose -this faith! And how beautiful and happy a thing it is when those who -are battling confirm themselves and one another in courage, and by -sending those symbols of flowers or books, recall their common pledge. - -"My health (forgive a word on this subject) has been satisfactory -since the new year, save that I have to be careful of my sight. -But, as you know, there are states of physical suffering that are -almost a blessing, for they produce forgetfulness of what one suffers -_elsewhere._ Rather one tells oneself that there are remedies for the -soul, as there are for the body. That is my philosophy of illness, and -it gives hope for the soul. And is it not a work of art, still to hope? - -"Wish me strength to write my eleven 'Unseasonable Thoughts' that still -remain to be done. Then at last I shall have said everything that -weighs upon us; and it may be that after this general confession, we -shall feel ourselves liberated, in however slight a degree. - -"My heartfelt wishes are with you, dear Fräulein." - -At last Friedrich Nietzsche began to work. His instinct brought him -back to the philosopher who had helped his first years. He wished to -consecrate to Schopenhauer his third "Unseasonable Thought." Ten years -before, he had led a miserable existence at Leipsic; Schopenhauer -saved him. His strange gaiety, his lyricism, the irony with which he -expresses his harshest thoughts, had restored to him the power of life. -If Schopenhauer "troubles you, burdens you," he wrote at that time to a -friend, "if he has not the power to raise you, and guide you, through -the keenest sorrows of external life, to that sorrowful, but happy -state of mind that takes hold on us when we hear great music, to that -state in which the surroundings of the earth seem to fall away from -us--then I do not claim to understand his philosophy." - -Once more he experienced the impressions of his youth. He remembered -that the most productive crises of his life had been the most -sorrowful, and as a disciple in the school of his former master he -recovered his courage. "I have eleven fine melodies yet to sing," he -writes to Rohde, in announcement of the work which was to follow. And -his Schopenhauer is a melody, a hymn to Solitude, to the daring of -a thinker. His heart was full of music at that time. He rested from -writing and composed a hymn to Friendship. "My song is for all of you," -he wrote to Erwin Rohde. - -His sister joined him, and the two left Basle and settled together in -the country, near the falls of the Rhine. Friedrich Nietzsche recovered -the gaiety of his most childish days, partly, no doubt, to amuse the -girl who had come so tenderly to join him--_aliis lætus, sibi sapiens,_ -according to the maxim that is found written in his diary of the -time--but also because he was truly happy, despite his sorrow: happy to -be himself, free and unspotted before life. "My sister is with me," he -writes to Gersdorff. "Every day we make the finest plans for our future -life, which is to be idyllic, hard-working, and simple. All is going -well: I have put well away, far from me, all weakness and melancholy." - -He used to walk with his sister and talk, laugh, dream, and read. What -did he read? Schopenhauer, no doubt, and Montaigne, in that small and -elegant edition which became a sad reminder: Cosima Wagner had given -it to him in former days at Triebschen in gratitude for the dolls he -used to bring to the little girls. "Because that man wrote," he used -to say, "the pleasure of life on earth has been intensified. Since I -have had to do with this free and brave spirit I like to repeat what he -himself said of Plutarch--'Je ne le puis si peu raccointer que je n'en -tire cuisse ou aile.' If the duty were laid upon me, it would be in his -company that I would attempt to live on earth as at home." Schopenhauer -and Montaigne: these two ironists, one confessing his despair, the -other hiding it, are the men with whom Nietzsche elects to try to live. -But he read at the same time with deepest appreciation the work of a -younger thinker, one less unfavourable to his aspirations--the trustful -Emerson, the young prophet of a young people, one who in his slightest -expressions so happily renders the pure emotion that lightens the -eighteenth year of a man's life and passes away with that year. - -Friedrich Nietzsche had read Emerson at Pforta, and he discovered him -again in the spring of 1874, and recommended him to his friends. - -"The world is young," wrote Emerson at the end of his _Representative -Men._ "The former great men call to us affectionately. We too must -write Bibles, to unite again the heavens and the earthly world. The -secret of Genius is to suffer no fiction to exist for us; to realise -all that we know in the high refinement of modern life, in arts, -in sciences, in books, in men; to exact good faith, reality, and a -purpose: and first, last, midst, and without end, to honour every truth -by use." - -Nietzsche had need of the comfort of such words and loved them. - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche finished the manuscript of his _Schopenhauer as -Educator_ at the beginning of June. Intellectually he was almost -cured, but he had other sufferings. Madame Förster-Nietzsche tells -how one day, when her brother had expressed his disgust of novels and -their monotony of love, some one asked him what other sentiment could -have the power of inspiring passion. "Friendship," he said quickly. "It -produces absolutely the same crises as love, but in a purer atmosphere. -First of all, attraction brought about on both sides by common -convictions, mutual admiration and glorification: then, distrust on one -side, and on the other doubts as to the excellence of the friend and -his ideas: the certainty that a rupture is inevitable and yet will be -painful. In friendship there are all these sufferings, and others too -many to tell." Nietzsche had knowledge of every one from June, 1871, -onwards. - -He loved Wagner; he had never ceased to love him. He had been able to -correct himself of his intellectual error. Richard Wagner was not a -philosopher or an educator of Europe. True enough, none the less he was -a wonderful artist, the source of all beauty and of all happiness, and -Nietzsche desired him still, as one desires a woman, because she gives -joy. Any idea of rupture was unbearable, and to none did he confess his -thoughts. - -The situation was false and awkward. In January, at the worst moment of -the crisis, he had to write to Wagner to congratulate him on a truly -extraordinary and unexpected piece of news: the King of Bavaria, the -poor madman, had suddenly stepped in and rescued the enterprise of -Bayreuth by promising the necessary money. At the same time Nietzsche -despatched his pamphlet on _The Use and Abuse of History._ Now, there -was not one mention in it of the master's name. This created rather a -shock at Bayreuth, and Madame Cosima Wagner took upon herself the task -of delicately calling him to order. - -"It has been given to you to take part in the sufferings of genius," -she wrote, "and it is this that has made you capable of pronouncing -a general judgment on our culture and has lent to your works the -marvellous warmth which, I am convinced, will last long after our stars -of petroleum and gas have been extinguished. Perhaps you would not -have penetrated with so sure a look the colour-medley of Appearance if -you had not mingled so deeply in our lives. From this same source has -sprung your irony and humour, and this background of sufferings shared -has given them a far greater power than if they were simply a play of -the intellect." - -"Alas!" said Nietzsche to his sister, "see what they think of me at -Bayreuth." On the 22nd of May, the anniversary of Wagner's birthday, -Nietzsche paid him his tribute of homage; Wagner answered him at once, -and asked him to come and spend a few days in "his room." Nietzsche -made some excuse and declined the invitation. A few days later he wrote -to Wagner--his letters have been lost or destroyed. He received the -following answer: - -"DEAR FRIEND,--Why do you not come to see us? - -"Do not isolate yourself so, or I shall be able to do nothing for you. - -"Your room is ready. - -"I have just received your last letter; I shall say more of it another -time. - -"Yours cordially, - -"R. W. - -"WAHNFRIED, _the 9th June,_ 1874." - -It is probable that Wagner liked Nietzsche as far as he was capable -of liking any man. From among all the admirers and too submissive -disciples who surrounded him he distinguished this zealous young man, -eager to give himself, eager for freedom. He was often impatient and -forgave quickly. He guessed, though he did not precisely understand, -that crises of tragedy shook this troubled life: so he wrote kindly. -But Nietzsche only suffered the more: he felt more keenly the value of -what he was going to lose. His courage failed him, and for the second -time he refused the master's invitation. An echo reached him of the -irritation caused at Bayreuth. - -To a friend he wrote: "I hear that they are again worried about me -there, and that they consider me unsociable and ill-humoured as a sick -dog. Really, it is not my fault if there are some people whom I prefer -seeing at a distance to near at hand." - -The faithful Gersdorff--faithful to both parties, master and -disciple--wrote to Nietzsche begging and pressing him to come; -Nietzsche resisted his insistence and revolted at it. - -"DEAR FRIEND,--Where did you get this strange idea of compelling me by -a threat to spend a few days this summer at Bayreuth? We know, both of -us, that Wagner is naturally disposed to distrust, but I do not think -it wise to kindle this distrust further; besides, consider that I have -duties towards myself, and that they are difficult to discharge with my -health shattered as it is. Really, it is not right for any one to lay -constraint of any kind on me." - -These revolts were only momentary. Nietzsche had not the strength to -break with Wagner. He longed with his whole being to preserve the -friendship. Certainly he had refused to go to Bayreuth. But he had -given excuses. He had asked for time, given urgent work as a pretext; -he had made arrangements for the future. And towards the end of July, -receiving a new invitation, tired at last of denying himself, he set -out. - -Meanwhile a curious idea had occurred to him. - -Did he merely wish to affirm his independence? or did he wish to -_correct_ Wagner? It may be that he conceived the fantastic dream of -influencing his master, purifying him, lifting him up to the height -of the devotion which he inspired. He took a score of Brahms, whom he -admired, and whom Wagner pursued with a jealousy that was comic at -times, slipped it in his trunk, and, early in the first evening, put -it well in view on the piano. It was bound in the most beautiful red. -Wagner perceived it, and, without doubt, understood; he had the sense -to say nothing. Next day, however, Nietzsche repeated the manœuvre. -Then the great man exploded; he screamed, raged, and foamed; then -dashed off, banging the doors behind him. He met Nietzsche's sister, -who had come with her brother, and, suddenly laughing at himself, gaily -related the anecdote. - -"Your brother had again thrust that red score on the piano, and the -first thing I see on entering the room is it! Then I fell into a fury, -like a bull before a red rag. Nietzsche, as I knew well, wanted me -to understand that that man, too, had composed beautiful music. I -exploded--what is called exploding!" - -And Wagner laughed noisily. The bewildered Fräulein Nietzsche sent for -her brother. - -"Friedrich, what have you done? What has happened?" - -"Ah! Lisbeth. Wagner has not been great...." Wagner had laughed; he was -appeased. That same evening, he made friends again with the _enfant -terrible._ But Nietzsche, as he shook hands with the master, allowed -himself no illusion: the gulf between them was deeper, the definitive -separation more menacing. - -He left Bayreuth. His health, tolerable in the month of August, was -bad in September; well or ill, he worked, correcting the proofs of his -_Schopenhauer,_ which he published in October. - -"You will know enough from my book," he wrote to Fräulein von -Meysenbug, "of the ordeals of my year, ordeals in reality more cruel -and more serious even, than you will be able to guess in reading me. -Still, _in summa,_ all's well, my life is bereft of sunshine, but -_I advance,_ and that is assuredly a great happiness, to advance in -one's duty.... At the moment, I want to make myself clear as regards -the system of antagonistic forces on which our 'modern world' rests. -Happily I have neither political nor social ambitions. No danger -menaces me, no considerations hinder me, nor am I inclined or forced -to compromise. In short, I have a free field, and I will know one day -in what degree our contemporaries, proud as they are of their liberty -of thought, tolerate free thoughts.... What will be my ardour when -at last I shall have thrown off all that mixes in me of negation and -refractoriness! And yet, I dare to hope that in about five years this -magnificent aim will be ready to be achieved." - -It was a hope well charged with shadows. Friedrich Nietzsche, greedy to -possess, longing to act, had to look forward to five years of waiting, -of arid work, of criticism. "Thirty years," he put down in a note-book. -"Life becomes a difficult affair. I see no motive to be gay; but there -ought always to be a motive to be gay." - -He returned to Basle and recommenced his course. This duty, which had -always been a burden, became heavier still: he was entrusted with the -charge of a Greek class for quite young men. He was conscious of the -value of his time, and knew that every hour given to the University -added to the delay, already so long, of the five years. He suffered -from each of them as from a remorse, as though he were failing in his -duty as a man of letters. - -"I have before me work enough for fifty years," he wrote to his mother -in autumn, "and I must mark time under the yoke, and it is with -difficulty that I can throw a look to right or left. Alas! (a sigh). -The winter has quickly come, very quickly, a very hard one. It will -probably be cold at Christmas. Would I bother you if I went to see you? -I delight so much in the thought of being once more with you, free for -ten days of this cursed University work. So prepare me for Christmas a -little corner in the country, where I might end my life in peace and -write beautiful books. - -"Alas! (a sigh)." - -In these moments of depression he was always seized by memories of -Wagner, and of the almost serene existence that he had tasted in his -intimacy. The glory of the master, a moment faded, went on increasing; -the public bowed before success, and Nietzsche, who had fought in the -difficult times, had now to stand aside in the hour of triumph. The -idea that the art of Wagner was within his reach, always offering -the miracle of its "fifteen enchanted worlds "; the idea that Wagner -himself was there, offering himself also, ever genial, abundant, -laughing, tender, sublime, caressing, and like a god creating life -around him: the idea that he had possessed so much beauty, and that, -with a little cowardice, he could possess it again, and that never, -never again would he possess it; this was an everlasting sadness to -Nietzsche. - -Finally, giving way to his need of an outlet, he wrote to the one -comforter, to Wagner. Like all his other letters to Wagner, this letter -is lost, or destroyed; but the tone of the letter which we are about to -quote, the tone of Wagner's reply, helps us to imagine its eloquence. - -Wagner answered: - -"DEAR FRIEND,--Your letter has again made us most anxious on your -account. Presently, my wife will write more fully than I. But I have -just a quarter of an hour's rest, and I want--to your great annoyance -possibly--to devote it to posting you up in what we say of you here. -It seems to me, amongst other things, that never have I had in my life -such intellectual society as you get in Basle, to amuse you in the -evenings. However, if you are all hypochondriacs, it is not a great -benefit, I admit. It is, I think, women that you need, you young men -of to-day. There is a difficulty, as I well know: as my friend Sulzer -used to say, 'Where take women without stealing them?' Besides, one -could steal at a pinch. I mean to say you ought to marry, or compose an -opera; one would be as good, or as bad, as the other. All the same, I -hold that marriage is the better. - -"In the meanwhile, I could recommend you a palliative, but you always -settle your _régime_ in advance, so that one can say nothing to you. -For example: our household here is so organised that we have a place -such as was never offered me in the most difficult moments of my life, -here for you: you should come and spend all the summer holidays;--but -very prudently, you announced to us, at the beginning of winter, that -you had resolved to pass the summer holidays on a very high and very -solitary mountain in Switzerland! Does that not look like very careful -guarding against a possible invitation? We could be useful to you in -some directions: why do you despise that which is offered you in such -good part? Gersdorff and all the society of Basle would be happy here: -a thousand things are to be seen: I pass in review all my singers of -the _Nibelungen;_ the decorator decorates, the machinist machines; and -then we are there, in flesh and blood. - -"But one knows the eccentricities of friend Nietzsche! - -"So I shall say no more about you, because it serves no purpose. - -"Ah! _mon Dieu!_ marry a rich woman! O, why should Gersdorff happen to -be of the masculine sex! Marry, and then travel, and enrich yourself -with those magnificent impressions which you desire so much! And then -... you will compose an opera which, surely, will be terribly difficult -to execute. What Satan was it that made a pedagogue of you? - -"Now, to end up: next year, in the summer, complete rehearsals (perhaps -with orchestra) at Bayreuth. In 1876, the representations. Impossible -earlier. - -"I bathe every day, I could no longer endure my stomach. Bathe you too! -And eat meat like me. "With all my heart, - -"Your devoted, - -"R. W." - -Wagner had foreseen that his letter would be useless. He had not -foreseen that it would be hurtful. Nietzsche repented that he had drawn -forth these tender offers, which he could not accept. In writing, -he had been weak; he was ashamed. Finally, the announcement and the -approach of the Bayreuth rehearsals overwhelmed him. Should he go? -Should he not go? If he did not go, how was he to excuse himself? Could -he still hide his thoughts? Should he henceforth acknowledge all? - -He had commenced a fourth "Unseasonable Thought," _We other -Philologists;_ he abandoned it, alleging, to explain this abandonment, -weariness and the weight of his University duties. When he speaks thus, -Nietzsche deceives either himself or us. Christmas came, and he went -to spend ten days at Naumburg with his mother. He was at liberty and -could work. But instead of writing, he composed and copied out his -_Hymn to Friendship_ for four voices. He spent Saint Sylvester's day in -re-reading his youthful compositions: this examination interested him. -"I have always seen admiringly," he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug, -"how the invariability of character manifests itself in music. What a -child expresses musically is in so clear a manner the language of his -most essential nature that the man afterwards desires to revise nothing -in it." - -This musical debauch was a bad sign of his condition, a sign of -weakness and of fear before his thoughts. Two letters, one from -Gersdorff, the other from Cosima Wagner, came to disturb his solitary -commemoration. His friends spoke to him of Bayreuth. The reminder -plunged him in despair. - -"Yesterday," he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "on the first day -of the year, I saw the future with a real fear. It is terrible and -dangerous to live--I should envy him who came by death in an honest -manner. For the rest, I am resolved to live to an old age. I have my -work. But it is not the satisfaction of living that will help me to -grow old. You understand this resolution." - -During January and February, 1875, Nietzsche did not work. He let -depression get the better of him. "At very rare moments," he writes, -"ten minutes every fortnight, I compose a _Hymn to Solitude._ I will -show it in all its dreadful beauty." - -In March, Gersdorff came to sojourn in Basle. Nietzsche, encouraged by -his arrival, dictated some notes to him. He seemed to have escaped -from his melancholy; then once more he was plunged into it by a fresh -sorrow. - -It had become his habit, a kindly habit and one conformable to his -tastes, to live in common with his two colleagues, Overbeck and -Romundt, who formed the intellectual society of which Wagner spoke with -such esteem. Now, in February, 1875, Romundt announced to Overbeck and -to Nietzsche that he was obliged to leave them to enter into Orders. -Nietzsche experienced a feeling of stupefied indignation: for many -months he had lived with this man, he called him his friend. Yet he -had had no suspicion of the secret vocation now suddenly declared. -Romundt had not been open with him. Subjugated by religious faith, he -had lacked in simple good faith, and the duties of friendship of which -Nietzsche had such an exalted ideal. Romundt's treachery reminded him -of another treachery and made it easier for him to understand the news -which was rumoured among Wagnerians: the master was about to compose -a Christian Mystery--a _Parsifal._ Nothing was so displeasing to -Friedrich Nietzsche as a return to Christianity: nothing seemed to him -more weak or cowardly than such a capitulation to the problems of life. -Some years before, he had known and admired the different projects on -which Wagner conversed with his intimates: he then spoke of Luther, -of the Great Frederick; he wished to glorify a German hero and repeat -the happy experiment of _Die Meistersinger._ Why had he abandoned his -projects? Why did he prefer Parsifal to Luther? and to the rude and -singing life of the German Renaissance, the religiosity of the Graal? -Friedrich Nietzsche then understood and measured the perils of the -pessimism which accustoms souls to complaint, weakens and predisposes -them to mystical consolations. He reproached himself for having taught -Romundt a doctrine too cruel for his courage, and thus to have been the -cause of his weakness. - -"Ah! our Protestant atmosphere, good and pure as it is!" he wrote -to Rohde; "I have never felt so strongly how well I am filled with -the spirit of Luther. And the unlucky man turns his back on so many -liberating geniuses! I ask myself if he is in his senses, and if it -would not be better to treat him with cold water and douches; so -incomprehensible is it to me, that such a spectre should rise up by me, -and take possession of a man for eight years my comrade. And to crown -all it is on me that the responsibility of this base conversion rests. -God knows, no egoistic thought induces me to speak thus. But I believe -too that I represent a sacred thing, and I should be bitterly ashamed -if I merited the reproach of having the slightest connection with this -Catholicism which I detest thoroughly." - -He wished to bring back, to convince his friend, but no discussion was -possible. Romundt did not answer and held to his resolve. He left on -the fixed date. Nietzsche wrote to Gersdorff, and related the story of -this departure. - -"It was horribly sad: Romundt knew, repeated endlessly that -henceforward he had lived the better and the happier part of his life. -He wept a great deal and asked our forgiveness. He could not hide -his misery. At the last moment I was seized with a veritable terror; -the porters were shutting the carriage doors, and Romundt, wishing -to continue speaking to us, wanted to let down the window, but it -stuck; he redoubled his efforts, and while he tormented himself thus, -hopelessly trying to make himself heard, the train went out slowly, and -we were reduced to making signs to each other. The awful symbolism of -the whole scene upset me terribly, and Overbeck as much as it did me -(he confessed as much to me later): it was hardly endurable; I stayed -in bed the next day with a bad headache that lasted thirty hours, and -much vomiting of bile." - -This day of illness marked the beginning of a very long attack. -Nietzsche was obliged to leave Basle and to repose in the solitude -of the mountains and woods. "I wander always alone," he writes, -"clearing up many thoughts." What were these thoughts? We can ascertain -them. "Send me a comforting message," he wrote to Rohde: "that your -friendship may help me better to support this terrible affair. It is in -my sentiment of friendship that I am hurt. I hate more than ever that -insincere and hypocritical way of being a man of many friendships, and -I will have to be more circumspect in the future." - -Fräulein Nietzsche, who had passed the month of March at Bayreuth with -the Wagners, came back to her brother, whose condition alarmed her. He -seemed obsessed by the memory of Romundt. "That such a misadventure -should occur between friends living under the same roof," he was -constantly saying. "It is appalling." In reality he was thinking of -the other friend, Richard Wagner, of the master he was losing. "What -a peril I have run," he said to himself. "I admired, I was happy, I -delivered myself over to and followed an illusion, but all illusions -are connected, and accomplices. Wagnerism borders upon Christianity." -Tirelessly he listened to his sister's accounts of the marvels of -Bayreuth, of the activity, the enthusiasm, the joy of all. Walking one -day with him in a public garden, she related for the tenth time this -same story: she noticed that her brother was listening to her with a -strange emotion. She interrogated him, plied him with questions, and -then the secret which he had kept for a year escaped him in a long, -eloquent plaint. He was suddenly silent. He remarked that a wayfarer -was following and spying on him. He dragged his sister precipitately -away, terrified by the idea that his words would be repeated at -Bayreuth. A few days later, having recognised again the too curious -wayfarer, he was able to learn his name: it was Ivan Turgenieff. - -July, 1875, the month fixed for the rehearsals of the Tetralogy, -approached, and these rehearsals were the sole preoccupation of -Nietzsche's friends, the sole subject of their letters and their -conversations. He continued to dissemble and dared not decide the -question which was becoming urgent: Should he go to their rehearsals -or not? His enervation increased day by day, bringing on the ordinary -troubles; headaches, insomnia, sickness, internal cramp: finally his -health served for an excuse. "As you are going to Bayreuth," he wrote -to Gersdorff, "warn them that they will not see me. Wagner will be -greatly provoked, I am not less." - -About the beginning of July, when his friends were hurrying towards -Bayreuth and the University of Basle had closed its doors, he retired -to the little therapeutic station which his doctor had recommended, -Steinabad, a spot lost in a valley of the Black Forest. - -Friedrich Nietzsche had the faculty of occasionally rising above his -own sorrows and his own joys. He knew how to enjoy the spectacle of his -crises as though they were the intermingled voices of a symphony. Then -he ceased to suffer, and contemplated with a sort of mystical rapture -the tragic development of his existence. Such was his life during the -few weeks of his cure at Steinabad. It brought him nevertheless no -motive of happiness. His illness resisted remedies, and the doctors -let him guess, as at the origin of all these attacks, an identical, -indiscernible, and mysterious cause. He did not forget the nature of -the illness that had killed his father at thirty-six years of age. He -took the hint and felt the danger: but he even brought this menace into -the spectacle of his life and considered it bravely. - -Steinabad is near Bayreuth; Nietzsche was once more tempted. Would -he go, or would he stay? This indecision was enough, he broke down -utterly. Towards the end of July, a terrible attack which kept him -two days in bed did away with these doubts. On the first of August he -wrote to Rohde: "To-day, dear friend, if I am not mistaken, you are all -meeting at Bayreuth. And I am not among you. In vain have I obstinately -believed that I could all of a sudden emerge in your society and enjoy -my friends. In vain; to-day, my cure being half completed, I say it -with certainty...." - -The attack lost its force; he was able to get up and walk in the woods. -He had brought a _Don Quixote_ with him: he read this book, "the -bitterest of all," with its derision of every noble effort. - -Still, he kept up his courage. He recalled without too poignant a -sorrow his past that had been filled with joy. He faced without fear -the menacing future; he thought of that grand work on Hellenism, an -old, unabandoned dream; he thought of the interrupted succession of -the "Thoughts out of Season;" and above all he delighted in conceiving -the beautiful book he would write when he was sure of himself. "To -this work," he thought, "I must sacrifice everything. For some years -I have been writing a great deal, I have written too much; I have -often made mistakes. Now I must keep silence and devote myself to many -years' work; seven, eight years. Shall I live as long? In eight years -I shall be forty. My father died four years earlier. Never mind, I -must accept the risk and peril. The time of silence has returned for -me. I have greatly slandered the modern men, yet I am one of them. I -suffer with them, and like them, because of the excess and the disorder -of my desires. As I shall have to be their master, I must first gain -the mastery of myself and repress my trouble. That I may dominate my -instincts, I must know them and judge them; I must restrict myself and -analyse. I have criticised science, I have exalted inspiration, but I -have not analysed the sources of inspiration; and to what unfathomable -depths have I not followed it! My youth was my excuse, I needed -intoxication. Now my youth is over. Rohde, Gersdorff, Overbeck, are at -Bayreuth: I envy, yet pity them. They have passed the age of dreams, -they ought not to be there. What task am I going to undertake? I will -study natural sciences, mathematics, physics, chemistry, history, and -political economy. I will accumulate an immense equipment for the -knowledge of men. I will read ancient history books, novels, letters. -The work will be hard, but I shall have Plato, Aristotle, Goethe, and -Schopenhauer constantly by me; thanks to my well loved geniuses my pain -will be less painful, my solitude less solitary." - -Friedrich Nietzsche's thoughts were almost every day diverted by a -letter from Bayreuth. He received and read it without bitterness. In a -few notes written for himself alone, he fixed the memory of the joys -he owed to Wagner. Then answering his friends: "I am with you in the -spirit during three-quarters of my days," he told them; "I roam like a -shadow around Bayreuth. Do not fear to excite my envy, tell me all the -news, dear friends. During my walks I conduct entire pieces of music -that I know by heart, and then I grumble and rage. Salute Wagner in my -name, salute him deeply! Good-by, my well loved friends, this is for -all of you. I love you with all my heart." - -Friedrich Nietzsche came back to Basle somewhat the better for his -cure. His sister joined him and wished to stay with him. He continued -to lead the wholly meditative and almost happy existence of Steinabad, -with his papers, his books, and his piano. - -"_I dream,_" he wrote (he underlines these words), "_I dream of an -association of unrestricted men, who know no circumspection and wish -to be called the 'destroyers'; they apply to everything the measure -of their criticism, and sacrifice themselves to the truth. Everything -that is suspect and false must be brought to light. We do not wish to -construct prematurely, we do not know if we can construct, and whether -it may not be better to construct nothing. There are cowardly and -resigned pessimists; of these we do not wish to be._" - -He commenced the long studies which he had assigned himself. He -examined firstly Dühring's book, _The Value of Life._ Dühring was a -Positivist who led the combat against the disciples of Schopenhauer and -Wagner. "All idealism deceives," he told them, "all life that seeks to -escape beyond life vows itself to chimera." Friedrich Nietzsche had no -objection to offer to these premises. "A sane life carries its worth in -itself," said Dühring. "Asceticism is unhealthy and the sequel of an -error." "No," answered Nietzsche. Asceticism is an instinct which the -most noble, the strongest among men have felt: it is a fact, it must -be taken into account if the value of life is to be appreciated. And -even if a prodigious error be here indicated as being at work, then -the possibility of such an error should be placed amongst the sombre -features of being. - -"The tragedy of life is not irreducible," said Dühring, "the -sovereignty of egoism is only apparent; the altruistic instincts work -in the human soul." - -Egoism an appearance! exclaimed Nietzsche. Here Dühring falls into -childishness. _Ich wollte er machte mir hier nichts vor!_ God be -praised if it were true! He talks nonsense, and if he seriously -believes what he says, he is ripe for all the socialisms. Nietzsche -finally held out as against Dühring for the tragic philosophy that -Heraclitus and Schopenhauer had taught him. There is no possible -evasion, all evasion is a lure and a cowardice. Dühring says it and -he speaks truly; but he attenuates the task in presenting a sweetened -image of that life in which we are set. It is either stupidity or -falsehood: life is hard. - -Friedrich Nietzsche was gay, or appeared so. In the evening (he did -not work because of his eyes) his sister read Walter Scott's novels to -him. He liked their simple narration. "The serene art, the andante," he -writes; he also liked the heroic, naïve, and complicated adventures. -"What fellows! what stomachs!" he exclaimed at the recitals of the -interminable feasts; and Fräulein Nietzsche, seeing him so cheerful, -was astonished to hear him a moment later play and develop at great -length his _Hymn to Solitude._ - -She was astonished not without reason: the gaiety of her brother was -artificial; his sadness was real; he dissembled with her, and doubtless -with himself. - -He had begun to study Balfour Stewart's book on the conservation of -energy: he stopped at the first pages. It was odious to him to work -thus without the consolation of art, or the real joy of hoping. He -thought he would be more interested in the Indian wisdom, and took -up the English translation of the _Sutta Nipâta._ Only too well he -understood its radical nihilism. - -"When I am ill and in bed," he writes in December to Gersdorff, "I let -myself be oppressed by the persuasion that life is without value, and -all our ends illusory...." His crises were frequent: every fortnight he -was disabled by the headaches, internal cramp, twitching of the eyes, -which laid hold of him. - -_"I wander here and there, alone like a rhinoceros,"_ Nietzsche had -kept in mind this final phrase of a chapter of the _Sutta Nipâta,_ and -applied it to himself with melancholy humour. His best friends were -then marrying. Nietzsche was ready to abuse marriage and women: one is -rarely sincere when one speaks thus, and we know he was not. - -"I have more and better friends than I deserve," he wrote in October, -1874, to Fräulein von Meysenbug; "what I now wish myself, I tell you -in confidence, is a good wife, and as soon as possible. Then life will -have given me all that I shall have asked of it. The rest is my affair." - -Friedrich Nietzsche congratulated the fiancés, Gersdorff, Rohde, -Overbeck, and rejoiced with them, but felt the difference of his own -destiny. - -"Be happy," he wrote to Gersdorff, "you who will no longer go wandering -here and there, alone like a rhinoceros." - - * * * * * - -The year 1876 was about to begin, the representations of the Tetralogy -were announced for the summer. Friedrich Nietzsche knew that his -irresolution must then cease: "I was exhausted," he wrote later, "by -the sadness of an inexorable presentiment--the presentiment that -after this disillusion I should be condemned to mistrust myself more -profoundly, to despise myself more profoundly, to live in a profounder -solitude than before." - -The impression of the Christmas and New Year festivals, always strong -in him, aggravated his melancholy. He fell ill in December, only to get -up again in March. He was still weak. - -"I find it an effort to write, I shall be brief," he wrote to Gersdorff -the 18th January, 1876; "I have never spent so sad and painful a -Christmas or one of such dreadful foreboding. I have had to give up -doubting. The malady which has attacked me is cerebral; my stomach, my -eyes, give me all this suffering from another cause, whose centre is -elsewhere. My father died at the age of thirty-six of inflammation of -the brain. It is quite possible that things may go even quicker with -me.... I am patient, but full of doubts as to what awaits me. I live -almost entirely on milk. It has a good result; I sleep well. Milk and -sleep are at present my best foods." - -At the approach of spring, he wished to leave Basle: Gersdorff offered -to go with him, and the two friends settled on the shores of the Lake -of Geneva, at Chillon. They spent a bad fortnight there. Nietzsche's -nerves were irritated by the least variation of the atmosphere, which -was more or less humid and more or less charged with electricity, and -he suffered from the "föhne," a soft wind which melts the snows in -March. He let the softness and tepidity depress him, and could not -restrain the heartrending expression of his doubts and his agonies. -Gersdorff, obliged to return to Germany, went with an uneasy mind on -his friend's account. - -But Nietzsche felt better once he was left alone. Perhaps finer weather -favoured him; perhaps he felt his distress less acutely when the -compassionate Gersdorff was not near by, ever ready to lend an ear to -his complaints. His humours became less bitter, and chance procured him -a decisive relief, a liberating hour. Fräulein von Meysenbug had just -published her _Memoirs of an Idealist._ Nietzsche had put these two -volumes in his bag. Of this woman of fifty he was very fond, and every -day he liked her more. She was always suffering and courageous, always -fine and good. He did not put her on the level of Cosima Wagner. The -superiority of her mind was not dazzling; but she was great-hearted, -and Nietzsche infinitely esteemed this woman who was faithful to the -real genius of women. Doubtless he began reading her book with moderate -expectations: yet the work held him. It is one of the most beautiful -records of the nineteenth century. Fräulein von Meysenbug had gone -all through it: she had known all the worlds, all the heroes, all -the hopes. Born in old Germany with its petty Courts--her father was -Minister in one of them--as a child she had listened to the friends of -Humboldt and Goethe; as a young girl, the humanitarian gospel touched -her: detached from Christianity, she abandoned its observances. Then -came 1848, and its dream; the Socialists, and their essays towards a -more noble, a more brotherly life: she admired them, and wanted to -work with them. Blamed by her people, she left them and went alone -without asking help or advice. An idealist of action, not of dreams, -she joined the communists of Hamburg; with them she instituted a sort -of phalanstery, a rationalistic school in which the masters lived -together. This school prospered under her direction; but, threatened by -the police, she had to fly. Next she was in London among its proscripts -of all the races, that mournful refuge, and tomb of the vanquished. -Fräulein von Meysenbug earned her living by giving lessons: she knew -Mazzini, Louis Blanc, Herzen: she was the friend and the consoler -of these unhappy men. At the time of the second Empire, of Napoleon -III., of Bismarck, and of the silence of the peoples--in Paris, with -its brilliant culture--Fräulein von Meysenbug met Richard Wagner. She -had long admired his music: she admired the man, listened to him, -succumbed to his ascendancy, and, renouncing the religion of humanity, -carried her fervour to the cult of art. But always she exercised and -lavished her active goodness: Herzen died; he left two children, whom -Fräulein von Meysenbug adopted, thus taking upon herself the anxiety of -a double maternity. Friedrich Nietzsche had known these young girls -and often admired the tenderness of their friend, her free and sane -self-sacrifice: he had not known of what life of entire devotion this -devotion was the flower. - -He was encouraged by this book: Fräulein von Meysenbug reconciled him -to life. Again he found his confidence and health. "My health," he -wrote to Gersdorff, "is allied to my hopes. I am well when I hope." - -He left his _pension_ and went to spend some days in Geneva. There he -discovered a friend, the musician Senger; he made the acquaintance -of a few Frenchmen, exiled communards, and liked talking to them. -He esteemed these fanatics with the square skulls, so prompt to -self-sacrifice. It appears that he flirted with two "exquisite" -Russians. Then he returned to Basle, and his first letter was sent to -Fräulein von Meysenbug. - -"BASLE, _Good Friday, April_ 14, 1876. - -"DEAR FRÄULEIN,--Four days or so back, finding myself alone on the -shores of the Lake of Geneva, I spent a whole Sunday quite near you, -from the earliest hour till the moon-bathed night. I have read you -through and through, with a revived interest at every page, and I -kept on repeating that never had I passed so blessed a Sunday. You -have given me an impression of purity and love which will never leave -me; and Nature, the day on which I read you, seemed to reflect this -impression. You were before me as a superior form of my being, a very -superior form; and which yet did not humiliate but encouraged me: thus -you crossed my thoughts, and, measuring my life with yours, I am more -easily able to feel what I lacked--so much! I thank you much more than -I would do for a book. - -"I was ill, I doubted my strength and my aims; I thought I should have -to renounce everything, and my greatest fear was of the length of a -life which can be but an atrocious burden if one renounces the highest -aims. I am now saner and freer, and I can consider without torturing -myself the duties I have to fulfil. How many times I have wished you -near me to ask you some question which only a moral being higher than -myself could answer! Your book gives me answers to such of these -precise questions as touch me. I don't think I can ever be satisfied -with my conduct, if I have not first your approbation. But it is -possible that your book is a severer judge than you would be yourself. -What should a man do, if, in comparing his life to yours, he does not -wish to be taxed with unmanliness? I often ask myself this. He ought to -do everything you have done and no more. But doubtless he could not; -he lacks that sure guide, the instinct of a love that is always ready -to give itself. One of the most elevated of moral themes _[einer der -höchsten Motive]_ that I have discovered, thanks to you, is maternal -love without physical bonds between the mother and the child. It is one -of the most magnificent manifestations of _Caritas._ Give me a little -of that love, dear lady and dear friend, and think of me as one of -those who need to be the son of such a mother. Ah! such a great need! - -"We shall have lots of things to say to one another when we meet at -Bayreuth. At present I again have hopes of being able to go, whereas, -these two past months, I had put the very thought away from me. How I -should like to be now the _saner_ of us two, and capable of rendering -you a service! - -"Why can't I live near you? - -"Adieu; I am and I remain, in all truth, yours, - -"FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE." - -Fräulein von Meysenbug answered at once. "If my book had only been -worth this joy, your letter to me, I would have been happy to have -written it. If I can help you, I want to do so. Next winter, leave -Basle, you must; look for a milder climate and a brighter one; how I -feel, as you do, the annoyance of our separation. I sheltered this -winter your young Basle pupil, Alfred Brenner, who is still ill; you -shall bring him back to me. I will be able to find the two of you a -health-giving home. Come, promise me." Nietzsche wrote immediately: -"To-day I shall answer you in one word; thank you, I shall come." - -Assured henceforth of sanctuary, Friedrich Nietzsche regained -confidence and courage. - -"I have recovered my good conscience," he wrote to Gersdorff a few -days after his return; "I know that up to the present I have done -all I could to enfranchise myself, and that in working thus, I have -not worked for myself alone. I want to start off again on this road, -and nothing more will stop me, neither memories, nor despairing -presentiments. This is what I have discovered--the only thing that men -respect and before which they bow, is a noble deed. Compromise, never! -never! Profound success can only be assured by remaining faithful to -oneself. I know already by experience what influence I exercise, and -that if I became weaker or more sceptical, I should impoverish, besides -my own, the hearts of many who develop with me." - -He needed a pride of this sort to confront the imminent crisis. The -disciples of the master gave him a dinner, and Nietzsche, who did not -want to be present, had to excuse himself. He wrote an impassioned -letter of which Wagner comprehended perhaps the hidden signification. - -"Seven years ago, at Triebschen, I paid you my first visit. And -every year, in this month of May, on this same day upon which we -all celebrate the anniversary of your birth, I myself celebrate the -anniversary of my spiritual birth. For since then, you live and work -in me always like a drop of fresh blood that had as it were entered -into my veins. This element that I owe to you urges me on, humiliates, -encourages and stimulates me. It never allows me to rest, so much -so that I should perhaps bear a grudge against you for this eternal -disquietude if I did not know that it ever drives me on towards a freer -and better state." - -Wagner answered him at once in a few exuberant lines. He told of the -toasts drunk to his glory and of his humorous responses, with so many -puns, cock-and-bull stories and impenetrable allusions, that it is -necessary to give up the attempt to translate. Nietzsche was moved by -this letter. At the moment it arrived he was feeling very much the -master of himself, very sure of his future. The history of his past -years suddenly appeared as a grand adventure that was now for ever -closed. He considered it with an indulgent regard, and, measuring the -joys he owed to Wagner, he wished to express his gratitude. The other -summer, at Steinabad, when in a similar state of mind, he had filled -some pages of notes. He took them up again, in spite of a nervous -affection of the eyes which prevented him from working without help, -and undertook to draw from them the substance of a volume. Singular -attempt! Disillusioned, he wrote an enthusiastic book, the most -beautiful in Wagnerian literature. But a forewarned reader recognises -almost from page to page the idea that Nietzsche expresses in masking -it. He writes the eulogy of the poet; of the philosopher he does not -speak; he denies, for him who can understand, the educative bearing of -the work. - -"For us," he writes, "Bayreuth signifies the consecration at the moment -of battle.... The mysterious regard that tragedy turns towards us is -not an enervating and paralysing charm, but its influence imposes -repose. For beauty is not given to us for the very moment of battle; -but for those moments of calm which precede and interrupt it, for -those fugitive moments in which, reanimating the past, anticipating -the future, we penetrate all the symbols; for those moments when, with -the impression of a slight weariness, a refreshing dream descends upon -us. The day and the strife are about to begin, the sacred shadows fade -away, and art is once more far from us; but its consolation is still -shed upon man, as a morning dew...." - -There exists a radical opposition between these thoughts and those that -inspired _The Birth of Tragedy._ Art is no longer a reason for living, -but a preparation for life, a necessary repose. Three menacing lines -end Nietzsche's little book: "Wagner is not the prophet of the future -as we might fain believe, but the interpreter and the glorifier of a -past." Nietzsche had not been able to keep back these admissions. Brief -and disguised as they were, he had hoped that they might not be heard, -and his hope, it seems, was justified. Wagner wrote as soon as the -pamphlet had appeared: - -"FRIEND!--Your book is prodigious! - -"Where did you learn to know me so well? Come quickly, and stay here -during rehearsals until the representations. - -"Yours, - -"R. W. - -_" July 12th."_ - - * * * * * - -The rehearsals began in the middle of July, and Nietzsche, who did not -wish to miss one of them, went, in spite of the precarious state of -his health, with an impatience that astonished his sister. Two days -later she received a letter: "I almost regret ever having come; up till -now, everything is wretched.... On Monday I went to the rehearsal; it -displeased me, I was obliged to go out." - -What was happening? Fräulein Nietzsche waited with great uneasiness. -She was slightly reassured by a second letter: - -"MY DEAR GOOD SISTER,--At present things are better...." But the last -sentence read strangely: "I must live very much to myself, and decline -all invitations, even Wagner's. He finds that I make myself scarce." -Almost immediately came the last letter: "I hope to leave: it is too -senseless to stay here. I await with terror every one of these long -musical evenings. Yet I stay. I can stand it no longer. I shall not be -here even for the first performance; I will go no matter where--but I -want to leave; here everything is unbearable." - -What had occurred? Had the mere sight of the world driven him away -so soon? Nietzsche had led a very hard existence, during the past -two years, "the friend of enigmas and problems." He had forgotten -men: he suffered on encountering them again. A Titan, Wagner, held -them captive, protected them against every enigma and too disquieting -"problem"; and in this shadow they seemed satisfied. They never -reflected, but repeated passionately the formulas that had been given -them. Some Hegelians had come: Wagner offered himself to them as a -second incarnation of their master. All the Schopenhauerians were -there; they had been told that Wagner had translated into music the -system of Schopenhauer. A few young people were calling themselves -"idealists," "pure Germans": "My art," declared Wagner, "signifies the -victory of German idealism over Gallic sensualism." All, Hegelians, -Schopenhauerians, pure Germans, agreed in the pride of triumph: they -had _succeeded._ Succeeded! Nietzsche heard this extraordinary word in -silence. What man, he pondered, what race ever did succeed? Not even -the Greek, which was bruised in its most beautiful flights. What effort -had not been in vain? So, taking his eyes off the comedy, Nietzsche -examined Wagner: was this dispenser of joys in the end great enough to -become uneasy in the hour of victory? No; Wagner was happy, because he -had succeeded; and the satisfaction of such a man was more shocking and -sadder still than that of the crowd. - -But happiness, however low it be, is still happiness. An exquisite -intoxication had seized the little town of Bayreuth. Nietzsche had -felt and shared this intoxication; he kept the remorse and envy of -it. He listened to a rehearsal: the entrance into the sacred theatre, -the emotion of the public, the presence of Wagner, the darkness, -the marvellous sounds, touched him. How sensible he had remained to -the Wagnerian infection. He got up in haste and went out; it is the -explanation of his letter: "_Yesterday evening, I went to a rehearsal; -it displeased me; I was obliged to go out._" - -A new element aggravated his trouble. He was informed definitely of -the significance of the forthcoming work, _Parsifal_. Richard Wagner -was about to declare himself a Christian. Thus, in eighteen months, -Nietzsche observed two conversions: Romundt was weak and perhaps the -victim of chance; but Nietzsche knew that with Wagner everything was -grave, and answered to the necessities of the century. Neo-Christianity -did not yet exist: Nietzsche felt it all through _Parsifal._ He -perceived the danger run by the modern man, so uncertain of himself, -and tempted by this Christian faith, which is so firm a thing, which -calls, which promises and can give peace. If he did not redouble his -efforts to discover in himself a new "possibility of life," it was -certain that he would fall back into a Christianity, cowardly like -his inspiration. Then Nietzsche saw these men, whose happiness he had -instinctively despised, menaced by a final collapse, and led gently, -and as if by the hand, towards this collapse by the master, by the -impostor who had subjugated them. Not one of them knew whither this -powerful hand might not soon lead them, scarcely one of them was a -Christian, but they were all on the eve of becoming Christians. How far -away was that May day of 1872 in which Richard Wagner conducted, in -this same Bayreuth, Schiller and Beethoven's ode to liberty and joy! - -Friedrich Nietzsche saw clearly for them all: the spectacle of these -unconscious lives made him feel desperate, as the sight of the world in -the Middle Ages had made those mystics desperate, who had always before -their eyes the accusing and bleeding image of the Christ. He would have -liked to have torn these people from their torpor, to have warned them -by a word, prevented them with a cry. "I ought to," he thought, "as I -alone understand what is happening...." But who would have listened to -him? He held his peace, he dissembled his dreadful impressions, and -wished to observe without weakness or desertion the tragic solemnities. - -But he could not. Soon he weakened and had to fly. "_I should be insane -to stay here. I await with terror each of these long musical evenings, -and yet I stay. I can bear no more.... I shall go, no matter where, but -I will go: here everything is torture to me...._" - - * * * * * - -The heights which separate Bohemia from Franconia rise some miles from -Bayreuth, and the village of Klingenbrunn, where Nietzsche retired, -is situated in the forests which cover them. The crisis was brief -and less severe than he had dreaded. Now that he had perceived in a -clearer manner the dangers of the Wagnerian art, he saw the remedy -more plainly. "Religiosity," he wrote, "when it is not upheld by a -clear thought, rouses disgust." He renewed his Steinabad meditations -and re-affirmed the resolutions then made. He would make a clean sweep -of the past; resist the seductions of metaphysics; deprive himself of -art; reserve judgment; like Descartes, begin by doubting. Then, if some -new security could be discovered, he would raise the new grandeur on -immovable foundations. - -He wandered up and down the silent forests; their severe peace was a -discipline: "If we do not give firm and serene horizons to our souls -like those of the woods and mountains," he wrote, "then our inner life -will lose all serenity. It will be broken up like that of the men of -towns; it will not know happiness and will not be able to give it." -Then, all of a sudden he released the cry of his sick soul: "I shall -give back to men," said he, "the serenity which is the condition of all -culture. And the simplicity. _Serenity, Simplicity, Greatness!_" - -Nietzsche, once more master of himself, returned to Bayreuth without -delay: he wished to complete his experience. The excitement of the -crowd was even greater than on the day of his departure. The old -Emperor William was present, on his way to the grand manœuvres. He -had paid Wagner the compliment of being present on two evenings. From -all Bavaria and Franconia, citizens and peasants had hurried hither -to salute their Emperor, and there was almost a famine in the little -invaded town. - -The performances began; Nietzsche heard them all. He listened in -silence to the observations of the faithful and measured the abyss -which he had so long skirted. He continued to see his friends: Fräulein -von Meysenbug, Miss Zimmern, Gabriel Monod, E. Schuré, Alfred Brenner, -who did not fail to notice in him a reserve and a silence singular -at times. Often he went off alone, during the intervals or in the -afternoons, with a pleasant and charming spectator, Madame O----, who -was slightly Parisian, slightly Russian. He liked the delicate and -surprising conversation of women, and he excused this one for being a -Wagnerian. - -M. Schuré, who met Nietzsche at these festivals, gives a description -of him which merits repetition. "As I talked to him I was struck by -the superiority of his mind and the strangeness of his physiognomy. A -large forehead; short hair brushed up off his forehead; the projecting -cheekbones of the Slav. The strong drooping moustache, the sharp cut -of the face, would have given him the air of a cavalry officer, had -it not been for an indescribable something in his address that was at -the same time timid and haughty. The musical voice, the slow speech, -denoted the organism of the artist; the prudent and meditative bearing -was a philosopher's. Nothing was more deceiving than the apparent calm -of his expression. The fixed glance betrayed the melancholy labour of -his thought. It was the glance of a fanatic, of a keen observer, and -of a visionary. This double character added a disturbed and disturbing -element, the more so because it always seemed riveted upon one point. -In his effusive moments this look was moistened with the softness -of a dream, but very soon it became hostile again.... During the -general rehearsals, and the first three performances of the Tetralogy, -Nietzsche appeared to be sad and dejected...." - -Each evening was a triumph, and each of them added to Nietzsche's -distress. The _Rhinegold,_ the _Valkyrie_--these old pieces recalled -his youth, his enthusiasms for Wagner, whom he did not know, whom he -did not dare hope to know. _Siegfried:_ souvenirs of Triebschen; -Wagner was completing this score when Nietzsche entered into his -intimacy. - -Siegfried was Nietzsche's favourite among the Wagnerian heroes. He -found himself again in this young man, who had never known fear. "We -are the knights of the spirit," he had then written in his notes, "we -understand the song of the birds and follow them." No doubt he was -almost happy when he heard _Siegfried;_ it was the only one of Wagner's -dramas which he could listen to without remorse. Lastly, _The Twilight -of the Gods._ Siegfried has mixed in the crowd of men; they deceive -him; one evening he naïvely relates his life; a traitor strikes him -from behind and kills him. The giants are annihilated, the dwarfs -vanquished, the heroes powerless; the gods abdicate; the gold is given -back to the depths of the Rhine, whose surging waters cover over the -world, and as they await death, men contemplate the universal disaster. - -It was the end. The curtain fell slowly, the symphony was extinguished -in the night, and the spectators rose suddenly, with one accord, and -gave vent to a loud burst of cheering. Then the curtain rose once more -and Richard Wagner appeared, alone, dressed in a redingote and cloth -trousers, holding his little figure erect. With a sign he called for -silence; every murmur ceased. - -"We have shown you what we wished to show you," he cried, "and what we -can show you when all wills are directed to one object; if on your side -you support us, then you will have an art." - -He retired, then returned; again and again he was recalled. Nietzsche -watched his master standing in the limelight, and he alone in the hall -did not applaud. - -"There he is," he thought, "_my ally._.. the Homer who has been -fertilised by Plato...." - -The curtain fell for the last time, and Nietzsche, silent, lost in the -crowd, followed his tide like a wreck. - - -[1] - - - "Ein Zwillingspaar von einem Haus, - Gieng muthig in die Welt hinaus, - Welt--Drachen zu zerreissen. - Zwi'r Väter--Werk! Ein Wunder war's! - Die Mutter doch des Zwillingpaars - Freundschaft ist sie geheissen." - - - -[2] _Mahnruf._ - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -CRISIS AND CONVALESCENCE - - -Friedrich Nietzsche returned to Basle. His eyesight was feeble and -painful, so that he had to accept the help which two friends offered -him: one of them was a young student named Köselitz, whom he had -jokingly called _Peter Gast, Peter the Guest_--the surname stuck to -him; the other was that Paul Rée, the Jew, with the acute mind, whom -he had known for two years. Thanks to their devotion he was able to -re-read the notes written at Klingenbrunn; he hoped to find matter -in them for the second "Unseasonable Thought." Paul Rée was then -publishing his _Psychological Observations,_ reflections inspired by -the English and French masters, Stuart Mill and La Rochefoucauld. -Friedrich Nietzsche heard this little work read, and appreciated it. -He admired this prudent style of conducting thought; he enjoyed it -on the morrow of the emphatic ceremonies of Bayreuth, as though it -were a repose; and he resolved to study at the school of Rée and of -his masters. Nevertheless he always felt the immense void which his -renouncement of Richard Wagner left in him. - -"At this moment," he wrote, the 20th September, 1876, "I have every -leisure to think of the past--farthest and nearest--for my oculist -makes me sit idle for long periods in a darkened room. Autumn, after -such a summer, is for me, and no doubt not only for me, more _autumn_ -than any other. After the great event comes an attack of blacker -melancholy, and to escape it one cannot fly too quickly towards Italy -or towards work, or towards both." - -He had obtained the leave for which he had asked, and the sole gladness -which he had in life was the certainty that he would be free for some -months from all professional duties. - -He left Switzerland at the end of October. Alfred Brenner and Paul Rée -accompanied him. The three Germans went down towards Genoa, and thence -took a steamer to Naples, where Fräulein von Meysenbug was expecting -them. - -"I found Nietzsche," she writes, "disappointed sufficiently, because -the journey and the arrival in Naples, in the middle of this noisy, -clamorous, importunate people, had been very disagreeable to him. -In the evening, however, I asked the visitors to take a drive to -Pausilippe. It was such an evening as one sees only down here; sky, -earth, and sea floated in a glory of indescribable colours, which -filled the soul as an enchanting music, a harmony from which every -discordant note was gone. I observed how Nietzsche's face lit up -in joyous and almost childlike astonishment, as though he were -dominated by a profound emotion; finally he gave vent to enthusiastic -exclamations, which I welcomed as a happy augury for the efficacy of -his visit." - -Fräulein von Meysenbug had hired a villa--it was an old pension--on -that slope which glides rapidly towards the sea, carrying its olives, -its lemons, its cypresses, and its vines with it down to the waves. -"On the first floor," she writes, "there were rooms with terraces for -the gentlemen; on the second, rooms for myself and my maid, with a big -sitting-room for our common use." - -She installed her guests in this retreat which she had selected for -them; but they had to wait a while before they could enjoy the retired -life for which they were in search. A too illustrious neighbour was -stopping hard by--none other than Richard Wagner, who, accompanied by -all his people, was resting at Sorrento after the immense effort and -triumph of Bayreuth. - -He showed no signs of fatigue. His days were spent in walking, his -nights in conversation. With Fräulein von Meysenbug and his friends he -held a sort of court. - -We wonder if Friedrich Nietzsche had expected thus to find his master -before him again? He could not avoid taking part in the walks, and in -the evening parties: but he displayed a slight reserve. Whilst Richard -Wagner talked of his future projects and of his coming work, and of -the religious ideas which he wished to express, Nietzsche preferred to -isolate himself with Paul Rée and to talk of Chamfort and of Stendhal. -Richard Wagner observed these conversations. Now, he disliked Jews, -and Rée displeased him. "Be careful," said he to Nietzsche, "that -man will do you no good." Nietzsche did not modify his attitude. He -spoke little, or, if he did mix in conversation, displayed a forced -liveliness and a gaiety which were not altogether natural. Fräulein von -Meysenbug was more than once surprised: - -"But I never suspected," she writes, "that any change had come over his -sentiments, and I abandoned myself with a whole heart to the delights -which came to complete those of Bayreuth. The joy I experienced in -living in a like intimacy led me to quote one day, as we sat together -at table, a thought from Goethe of which I was very fond: 'Happy he -who, without hatred, withdraws from the world, presses a friend to his -breast, and thus enjoys that something which men know not nor suspect, -that which crosses the labyrinth of the heart at night.' The Wagners -did not know this quotation, and were so enchanted with it that I had -to repeat it to them. Alas! I did not guess that the demons who also -cross the labyrinth of the heart at night and intimately contemplate -the divine mystery of sympathy between noble minds, had already begun -their work of sowing discord and division." - -Towards the end of November, Richard Wagner having left Sorrento, -Fräulein von Meysenbug and her friends were able to regulate their -lives with a view to study. They arranged the employment of their time: -up to noon, work and solitude; at noon, breakfast; after breakfast, a -walk and conversation; in the evening, work and solitude; at night, -after dinner, reading. Paul Rée, the only healthy member in this -society of invalid intellectuals, read aloud. Nietzsche and Fräulein -von Meysenbug were short-sighted; Brenner's lungs were affected. Who -were their authors? Jacob Burckhardt, whose course of lectures on Greek -culture they were studying (a student of Basle had lent his notes); a -little of Michelet; Herodotus; Thucydides. A question posed, a doubt -expressed, sometimes interrupted Paul Rée's readings; and it was almost -always Friedrich Nietzsche who concluded the short debate. - -"Nietzsche was indeed the soul of sweetness and kindliness!" writes -Fräulein von Meysenbug in her charming account. "How well his good -and amiable nature counterbalanced his destructive intelligence! How -well he knew how to be gay, and to laugh with a good heart at the -jokes which often came to disturb the serious atmosphere of our little -circle. When we were together in the evening, Nietzsche comfortably -installed in an arm-chair in the shade of a screen; Dr. Rée, our -obliging reader, seated at the table on which the lamp was placed; -young Brenner, near the chimney-piece opposite me, helping me to peel -oranges for dinner; I often said, laughing: 'We represent truly an -ideal family; here are we four people, who scarcely knew each other -before, who are not united by any tie of relationship, who have no -memories in common, and we now live together in absolute concord, in -the most complete personal liberty, and in a perfect content of mind -and heart.' So plans were soon sketched for the renewal and enlargement -of this happy experience...." - -Would it be impossible to come back each year to this Italian coast, -to call one's friends thither, and thus to found a spiritual refuge, -free of every school, of every Church? On the morrow of 1848 Fräulein -von Meysenbug had inspired at Hamburg a sort of Socialist phalanstery, -which became the subject of one of the finest chapters of her book, -and remained to her as one of the greatest memories of her life. -Friedrich Nietzsche in no wise abandoned his ancient dream of a lay -cloister. Thus the memories of the old lady agreed with the hopes of -her young companion. Paul Rée and Alfred Brenner did not refuse their -co-operation, and the four friends gave the project their serious -consideration. - -"Already we are in quest of an appropriate locality," writes Fräulein -von Meysenbug, "for it was at Sorrento, in the heart of this delicious -scenery, and not in the close air of a town, that our project was to -take shape. We had discovered near the shore various spacious grottoes -enlarged by the hand of man, veritable rock halls, in which a sort of -pulpit is actually to be seen, which seems to be especially put there -for a lecturer. It is here that, during the hot days of summer, we -thought of giving our lessons. We had besides conceived the plan of the -school rather on the Greek model than according to modern ideas, and -the teaching was chiefly to be a mutual instruction in the Peripatetic -manner...." - -Nietzsche wrote to his sister: "My idea, the school of the educators, -or, if you like, _modern cloister, ideal colony, free university,_ is -always floating in the air. What will befall it, who can tell? Already -we have, in imagination, named you directress and administrative head -of our establishment for forty persons." - -At the beginning of spring Brenner and Rée left Sorrento. Fräulein -von Meysenbug and Nietzsche, now alone together, read to one another, -but only a little, for reading tried the eyes of both. They preferred -to talk. Nietzsche was never tired of listening to his companion's -recitals. She told him of the lofty days of 1848. This he liked and, -above all, he liked that she should talk to him of Mazzini. - -He did not forget the chance by which he had had the Italian hero -as carriage companion in April, 1871, as they were crossing the -Alps. _No compromise: live resolutely in the whole, the good, and -the beautiful...._ Mazzini had repeated this maxim of Goethe's to -him, and Nietzsche associated it with his recollection of the man. -Fräulein von Meysenbug had known Mazzini in London. She had admired -his authority in command, his exactitude in obedience, his readiness -to serve every servant of the cause, whether he were called Cavour or -Garibaldi. He had paid the price of this humility; for, forgotten in -the hour of victory, the exile's ban had been maintained against him -alone. Nevertheless, he had wished to end his days in his well-loved -Liguria, and he had come there to die, hiding his name and race. The -doctor who took care of him was astonished--he had taken him for an -Englishman--when he heard him speak in so pure an Italian. "Look you," -replied the dying man, "no one has ever loved Italy so much as I loved -her." Friedrich Nietzsche listened to these stories. - -"The man I venerate most," said he to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "is -Mazzini." - -Could Fräulein von Meysenbug have guessed that her young companion, -this young, tender, and enthusiastic German, had just declared war -within himself on those instincts of tenderness and enthusiasm -which obstructed the clarity of his views?--that Nietzsche, the -continuator of Schopenhauer, the friend of Wagner, was now choosing La -Rochefoucauld, Chamfort, Stendhal for masters? Could she have guessed -that this friend who dreamed with her of setting up a lay cloister was -training himself, during his long walks, to face the melancholy of a -life of revolt and of solitude? He formulated the rules of such a life: - - - You must neither love nor hate the people. - - You must in no way occupy yourself with politics. - - You must be neither rich nor poor. - - You must avoid the path of those who are illustrious and - powerful. - - You must take a wife from outside your people. - - You must leave to your friends the care of bringing up your - children. - - You must accept none of the ceremonies of the Church. - - -Fräulein von Meysenbug knew at last. One day Nietzsche handed to her -a pile of MSS. "Read," said he; "here are some impressions which -came to me down there, under that tree; I have never sat down in its -shade without plucking a thought." Fräulein von Meysenbug read, and -discovered an unsuspected Nietzsche, a critic and a denier. "Do not -publish that," she said. "Wait, reflect!" Nietzsche's only answer was a -smile. She insisted; the conversation grew animated; they made peace in -reading Thucydides. - -At the beginning of May, Nietzsche, incommoded by the heat, wished to -leave. Fräulein von Meysenbug wanted him to postpone his departure in -order that he might master his first fatigue before he began the trying -voyage. He would not listen to her. - -"Nietzsche is really going to-morrow," she wrote to Rée; "you know -that when he is thus determined upon something he carries it out, even -though the sky sends the most serious warnings to turn him from it. -In that he is no longer a Greek, as he is not attentive to oracles. -Just as, in the most frightful weather, he starts out on an excursion, -so now he goes, tired to death, in defiance of the raging wind which -is lashing up the sea, and will certainly make him ill, for he is -determined to make the voyage from Naples to Genoa by sea." - -"Yes, he has gone," she wrote in another letter. "The charm of -Sorrento in flower could not keep him; he must go, but it is horribly -painful to me to let him travel thus; he is unpractical and so bad at -extricating himself from a difficulty. Luckily the sea is a little -calmer to-day.... Alas, there is so much to regret! Eight days ago we -had sketched plans for his near and distant future. Was his brusque -resolution dictated by a feverish desire to fly from his malady, which -he suddenly fancied had some connection with our spring temperature, -which is truly a little abnormal? But how could he have been any better -elsewhere this miserable spring? I think that at the last moment it -occurred to him that his departure was nevertheless precipitate. But -it was too late.... This melancholy multiplication of departures has -quite upset me...." - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche went to take a cure at the waters of Rosenlaui. -He experienced very little benefit from it, and his immediate -future preoccupied his thoughts. In September he had to resume his -professorial duties. It was his daily bread, and a daily discipline -from which he feared to be freed. But he also knew the horrible ennui -of it. He had been given reason to hope that the authorities at Basle -would consent to grant him, in consideration of his services and of his -illness, a definite discharge with a sufficient pension. Fräulein von -Meysenbug advised him to retire; his sister, on the contrary, advised -him to retain his office, and Nietzsche chose to listen to his sister. -But the nearer came the date of his return, the more lively grew his -revolt. - -"It is a thing which I know, which I feel," he then wrote to a woman -who was helping him in his work, the mother of one of his pupils, Marie -Baumgarten, "that I have in store a loftier destiny. I can make use of -Philology, but I am more than a Philologist. 'I misrepresent myself.' -Such was the persistent theme of my last ten years. Now that a year -of retired life has made everything so visible and so clear (I cannot -express how rich I feel and how much of a creator of joy, _in spite_ of -every affliction, as soon as I am left alone with myself), now, I tell -you with complete confidence that I am not returning to Basle to stay -there. How will it come about? I do not know, but my liberty (Ah! how -modest my material necessities are; little matters to me), my liberty, -I shall conquer it for myself." - -His sister came to join him at Basle and lived with him. At first his -pleasure was great, but he soon recognised that he could not talk with -this girl who was altogether a Wagnerian and quite devoted to the ideas -of Bayreuth. Paul Rée was the only man whose company he liked; but Paul -Rée was detained in North Germany by considerations of health, and -could not, as Nietzsche had hoped, come to Basle. - -"I hope that I shall soon learn," he wrote to him, "that the evil -demons of sickness are leaving you in peace. All that I wish for you -in the New Year is that you remain as you are, and that you remain -for _me_ as you have been.... Let me tell you that friendship has -never been so sweet to me as in this last year, thanks to you.... -When I hear of your work, my mouth waters, for I desire to be with -you so much. We have been made to understand each other aright; we -always come together, I think, like good neighbours, to whom the idea -occurs, at the same moment, that they should pay each other a visit, -and who meet on the confines of their lands.... When shall we have a -good conversation upon human affairs, a personal, not an epistolary -conversation?" - -In December he wrote to Rée: "Ten times a day I wish to be near you." -Nevertheless he finished his book, or, to be more accurate, he did not -finish it, for he preserved the attractive freedom of his notes. It was -thus that they came to him, one after another, without any connection; -and it pleased him that they should thus remain. His deplorable -health prevented him from putting a weft across them, from imposing -an order upon them. And what did it matter? He recalled those French -writers whose loyalty he loved: Pascal, Larochefoucauld, Vauvenargues, -Montaigne. He wished to leave, after their example, some disorder and -some discontinuity in his thoughts. He wished to write a simple book -which should call the most urgent enthusiasts back to prudence. Round -Wagner and Bayreuth, "beautiful souls" were innumerable. Friedrich -Nietzsche, who had just missed being one of these, wished, by talking -in the manner of old Socrates, to make them feel the absurdity of their -faith. _Human, All Too Human,_ was the title which he had chosen. Right -at the end of his conscious life, he recounted the object of his book. - -"A torch in my hand," he writes, "and the light not smoky,[1] I have -cast a lively light upon this subterranean world of the Ideal. It -is war, but war without powder and without smoke, without war-like -attitudes, without pathos, without dislocated limbs--all that would -still be 'idealism.' Error after error, I took them and placed them -on the ice, and the ideal was not even refuted--it froze. Here, for -example, freezes 'the Genius'; in this other corner freezes 'the -Saint'; beneath a thick stopper of frozen ice 'the Hero'; and, lastly, -it is 'the Faith' which freezes, she who is named 'Conviction'; -and then here is 'Pity,' which notably grows cold--in fact, nearly -everywhere freezes 'the thing in itself.'" - -Certainly this work is paradoxical. No one is so ardent as Friedrich -Nietzsche, no one has such a belief in his work, in his mission, in -the sublime ends of life; and yet he labours to scoff at them. He -reverses every thesis that he has hitherto upheld. _Pereat Veritas, -fiat vita!_--he had once written. Now he writes, _Pereat vita, fiat -Veritas!_ Above poetry he places science; above Æschylus, that same -Socrates whom he had at other times denounced. No doubt it is only a -pretence, and he knows it. The ideas which he expresses are not really -his own. He arms himself with irony for a combat which will be short: -for he is not an ironist. He wants to find, and is convinced that he -will find, an unknown lyricism which shall inspire his great works. -_Human, All Too Human,_ is the sign of a time of crisis and of passage, -but what a surprising crisis, what a difficult passage! "The book is -there," wrote Nietzsche, "to the great astonishment of the prostrate -invalid." - -On January 3, 1879, he received the poem _Parsifal,_ which Richard -Wagner sent him. He read it, and could better measure the always -increasing distance which separated him from his old master. He wrote -to the Baron von Seydlitz: - -"Impression from the first reading: more Liszt than Wagner; the spirit -of the counter-reformation; for me who am too accustomed to the Greek -and human atmosphere, all this belongs to a too limited Christianity; -the psychology is fantastic; there is no flesh and far too much blood -(the Last Supper especially has far too much blood about it for me); I -do not like hysterical chambermaids. The style seems like a translation -from a foreign language. But the situations and their developments--are -they not in a vein of the greatest poetry? Never did a musician propose -a higher task to his music." - -Friedrich Nietzsche, in this letter, did not speak all his thoughts. -Certain features of it _(no flesh and far too much blood)_ let us -divine, as already active and vehement within him, that repugnance -which he was to express ten years later. Nevertheless he loved this -incomparable master, and for the first time he was obliged to put -clearly to himself the problem of the rupture. He had received the poem -_Parsifal;_ should he reply, and, if so, in what terms? or should he -take the more frank and simple course of leaving it unanswered? - -His doubts and vexations increased. It is not easy to gauge his -condition at this time. He scarcely confided in his sister. His letters -to Paul Rée, which would no doubt enlighten us, are not printed. - -Since Christmas, 1877, Friedrich Nietzsche had more leisure, his -professional work having been reduced by some hours. He took advantage -of this to leave Basle every week and wander alone in the neighbouring -regions. He did not go to the high mountains; he had little taste for -these "monsters" and preferred the Jura, the Black Forest, whose wooded -heights reminded him of the places of his childhood. - -What were his thoughts? We may conjecture that he was occupied solely -with Wagner and his book. One month, two months had passed, and he had -not acknowledged the receipt of _Parsifal. Human, All Too Human_ was -printed, and the publisher was waiting. But how should he forewarn the -master, how prepare him for this surprising document? His disciples -had accustomed him to the most obsequious homage, the most profound -intellectual deference. Nietzsche knew that his independent work -would scandalise the dovecot of Bayreuth. When the moment for his -pronouncement came he took fright. He was as much concerned for the -public as for Wagner himself. He was ashamed of the philosophy which -he was giving forth as his own. He had written these pages, and he -regretted nothing; he had followed, as he had the right to follow, the -vital logic which ruled his mind. But he also knew that this same logic -would bring him back one day towards a new lyricism, and it would have -suited him to disguise somewhat the interlude of his years of crisis. -He then conceived a singular idea: he would not sign his book; he would -publish it in an enigmatical manner, anonymously; Richard Wagner alone -would know the mystery and know that _Human, All Too Human_ was the -work of his friend, of his disciple, who at the bottom of his soul -remained still faithful. He wrote out a long draft of a letter which is -preserved to us: - -"I send you this book: _Human, All Too Human;_ and at the same time -I tell you, you and your noble companion, in complete confidence, my -secret; it suits me that it should be also yours. The book is mine.... - -"I find myself in the condition of mind of an officer who has carried a -redoubt. Though wounded he is upon the heights and waves his standard. -More joy, far more joy than sorrow, though the neighbouring spectacle -be terrible. - -"I have told you that I know no one who is really in agreement with me -in thought. And yet I fancy that I have thought, not as an individual, -but as the representative of a group; the most singular sentiment of -solitude and of society.... - -"... The swiftest herald who does not know precisely if the cavalry is -coming behind him, or even if it exists." - -The publisher rejected the proposal and Nietzsche had to abandon it. At -last his mind was made up. Europe was about to celebrate, in May, 1878, -the hundredth anniversary of Voltaire's death. Friedrich Nietzsche -decided that he would publish his book at this time, and he would -dedicate it to the memory of the great pamphleteer. - - * * * * * - -"In Norway those periods during which the sun remains all day beneath -the horizon are called _times of obscurity,"_ he wrote in 1879; "during -that time the temperature goes down slowly and incessantly. What a -marvellous symbol for all thinkers for whom the sun of man's future -has been obscured for a time!" Nietzsche knew his _time of obscurity._ -Erwin Rohde disapproved of his book, Richard Wagner made no reply; -but Nietzsche knew how he was being judged in the master's circle. -"The caricaturist of Bayreuth," said they, "is either an ingrate -or a madman." An unknown donor (Gersdorff, was it not?) sent from -Paris a box in which Friedrich and Lisbeth Nietzsche found a bust of -Voltaire and a short note: _The soul of Monsieur Voltaire presents his -compliments to Monsieur Friedrich Nietzsche._ Lisbeth Nietzsche could -not tolerate the idea that her brother, pure German at heart, should -range himself under the banner of a Frenchman, and of such a Frenchman! -She wept. - -No doubt some of his friends passed a different judgment. "Your book," -said Jacob Burckhardt, "enlarges the independence of the mind." "Only -one book," wrote Paul Rée, "has suggested as many thoughts to me as -has yours--the conversations of Goethe and Eckermann." Peter Gast -remained faithful, Overbeck and his wife were sure friends. Nietzsche -did not feel his defeat the less for it "_Human, All Too Human_" had no -success. Richard Wagner, it was said, was amused by the smallness of -the sales. He chaffed the publisher: "Ah, ah! now you see Nietzsche is -read only when he defends our cause; otherwise, no." - -In August, 1878, _Human, All Too Human_ was judged and condemned in the -_Journal_ of Bayreuth. "Every German professor," wrote the anonymous -author, in whom Nietzsche recognised, or believed that he recognised, -Richard Wagner, "has to write once in his life a book to consecrate -his fame. But as it is not given to all the world to find a truth, -one contents oneself, to obtain the desired effect, with proving the -radical nonsense of the views of a predecessor, and the effect is so -much the greater when the predecessor who is put to shame was the more -considerable man." - -This low style of judgment grieved Friedrich Nietzsche. He now proposed -to explain, in a tone of serenity and respect, his attitude in respect -to his old masters, Schopenhauer and Wagner. Only it seemed to him -that the time for courtesies had gone by, and, after reconsidering -his Sorrento notes, he undertook to write a sequel to the thoughts of -_Human, All Too Human._ - -His sister had left him; in September he was leading a painful and -miserable life, a few features of which we can apprehend. He was -avoided, for his agitated condition gave alarm. Often, on coming out -of the University, he would meet Jacob Burckhardt. The wise historian -would slip off by a clever manœuvre; he esteemed his colleague, but -dreaded him. In vain Nietzsche sought to gather new disciples around -him. "I am hunting for men," he wrote, "like a veritable corsair, not -to sell them into slavery, but to carry them off with me to liberty." -This unsociable liberty which he proposed failed to seduce the young -men. A student, Herr Schaffler, has recorded his recollections: "I -attended Nietzsche's lectures," says he; "I knew him very slightly. -Once, at the end of a lecture, he chanced to be near me, and we walked -out side by side. There were light clouds passing over the sky. 'The -beautiful clouds,' he said to me, 'how rapid they are!' 'They resemble -the clouds of Paul Veronese,' I answered. Suddenly his hand seized my -arm. 'Listen,' said he; 'the holidays are coming; I am leaving soon, -come with me, and we shall go together to see the clouds at Venice.' -... I was surprised, I stammered out some hesitating words; then I saw -Nietzsche turn from me, his face icy and rigid as death. He moved away -without saying a word, leaving me alone." - -The break with Wagner was his great and lasting sorrow. "Such a -farewell," he wrote, "when one parts because agreement is impossible -between one's manner of feeling and one's manner of judging, puts us -back in contact with that other person, and we throw ourselves with -all our strength against that wall which nature has set up between -us and him." In February, 1879, Lisbeth Nietzsche wrote to Cosima -Wagner: had her brother advised her to make the overture? Did he know -of it? Did he approve of it? We cannot say. Cosima answered with an -imperial and sweet firmness. "Do not speak to me of _Human, All Too -Human,"_ she wrote. "The only thing that I care to remember in writing -to you is this, that your brother once wrote for me some of the most -beautiful pages that I know.... I bear no malice against him: he has -been broken by suffering. He has lost the mastery of himself, and this -explains his felony." She added, with more spirit than sense, "To say -that his present writings are not definitive, that they represent the -stages of a mind that seeks itself, is, I think, curious. It is almost -as if Beethoven had said: 'See me in my third manner!' Moreover, one -recognises as one reads that the author is not convinced by his work; -it is merely sophism without impulse, and one is moved to pity." - -_Miscellaneous Opinions and Apophthegms,_ which formed the sequel to -_Human, All Too Human,_ appeared in 1879. But the offence which this -second volume might have given was attenuated and, as it were, warded -off, by reason of the pity which Nietzsche now inspired in those who -had formerly known him. His state of health grew worse. His head, his -stomach, his eyes, tormented him without intermission. The doctors -began to be disquieted by symptoms which they could not ascertain, -by an invalid whom they could not cure. It appeared to them that his -eyesight, and perhaps his reason, were threatened. He divined their -alarms. Peter Gast waited at Venice, called to him from there; but -Nietzsche was forced to abandon the project of a voyage; he had to -shut himself up in his room at Basle behind closed shutters and drawn -curtains. - -What was to become of him? Rohde, Gersdorff, touched by the wreck of -this man of whom they had hoped so much, wrote to Overbeck: "They -say that Nietzsche is lost, advise us." "Alas," replied Overbeck, -"his condition is desperate." Even Richard Wagner remembered and was -touched. "Can I forget him," he wrote to Overbeck, "my friend who -separated from me with such violence? I clearly see that it would not -have been right to demand conventional considerations from a soul -torn by such passions. One must be silent and have pity. But I am in -absolute ignorance of his life, and of his sufferings; this afflicts -me. Would it be indiscreet if I asked you to write me news of my -friend?" - -Apparently Nietzsche did not know of this letter. He had written, a few -months earlier, among other notes: "Gratitude is a bourgeois virtue; -it cannot be applied to a man like Wagner." His happiness would have -been great, had he been able to read the identical thought, written -by his master, "It would not have been right to demand conventional -considerations from a Nietzsche." - -Overbeck and his wife attended the invalid. They wrote to his sister -that she ought to be at his side. She came at once and scarcely -recognised the stooping, devastated man, aged in one year by ten years, -who thanked her for coming with a gesture of his hand. - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche gave up his professorship; he sent in his -resignation, which was accepted. In recompense for his services he was -to receive a pension of three thousand francs. - -Lisbeth took him away. He thought himself a lost man, and expressed -his last wishes. "Make me a promise, Lisbeth; let my friends only -accompany my corpse; let none who are merely indifferent or curious be -present. I shall no longer be able to defend myself, and you must do -it. Let no priest, let no one come and speak insincere words over my -coffin. See that I am buried like a loyal pagan, with no lies told." - -He longed for the most desert and silent places, for the most complete -solitude; she brought him to the valleys of the Upper Engadine. At that -time very few people went up there. Nietzsche discovered this remote -Switzerland and derived an unexpected comfort from the light and pure -quality of the air, and the kindly light of the meadows, which soothed -his worn-out eyes. He liked the scattered lakes, which recalled a -Finland, the villages with their singing names, the fine peasant race, -which proclaimed the presence of Italy beyond the glaciers. "This -nature is familiar to me," he wrote to Rée; "it does not astonish me, -there is an understanding between us." With a convalescent's surprise -he began to live again. He wrote scarcely any letters; he wrote for -himself, and it is in his work that we must seek the information which -his correspondence formerly gave us. This is how he narrates his ascent -towards the Engadine. - -_"Et in Arcadia ego._--Above the hills which take the shape of waves, -across the austere pines and the old fir-trees, I have turned my gaze -upon a little lake whose water is green and milky. Around me were rocks -of every contour, a soil painted in discordant colours with grasses -and flowers. Before me a flock moved, now scattering, now closing up -its ranks; some cows, grouped afar-off, below a forest of pines, stood -out in relief under the evening light; others, nearer, more sombre; -and everything calm in the peace of the approaching twilight. My watch -registered half-past five. The monarch of the herd was walking in the -foam-white brook; he stepped out slowly, now stemming the fierce tide, -now giving way to it: no doubt he found a kind of ferocious delight -in so doing. Two human beings, brown skinned, of Bergamesque origin, -were the shepherds of this flock: the young girl dressed almost like -a boy. To the right, above a large belt of forest, edges of rocks, -fields of snow; to the left, two enormous prongs of ice, far over me, -in a veil of clear mist. Everything grand, calm, luminous. This beauty, -thus suddenly perceived, thrilled, so as to bring into the soul a mute -adoration of this moment of revelation. Into this world of pure light -and sharp outline (exempt from disquiet and desire, expectation and -regret), one was tempted to introduce Grecian heroes--involuntarily, as -though it were the most natural thing. One had to feel in the manner of -Poussin and his pupils; in a thoroughly heroic and idyllic manner. And -it is thus that certain men have lived, thus that they have felt life, -lastingly, within and without themselves; and I recognise among them -one of the greatest of all men, one who discovered a style of heroic -and idyllic philosopher: Epicurus." - -Friedrich Nietzsche stayed in the Engadine, poorly lodged, sparingly -fed, till September came; but he was satisfied, though deprived of -friends, with his music and books. His sufferings were not intolerable: -he could work and had soon filled six copybooks with pencil notes of -his calmer thoughts, which, though always sceptical, were not bitter, -but seemed, as it were, tempered by the unexpected indulgence. He had -no illusions concerning this respite which he had received. It was a -respite and no more, and he did not hope. Nevertheless he rejoiced -that, before his breakdown, he had the opportunity of saying what -happiness had been procured him by the simple contemplation of things, -of human nature, of the mountains and the sky; he hastened to harvest -this last felicity. At the beginning of September, 1879, he sent his -completed work to Peter Gast. - -"My dear, dear friend," he wrote, "when you receive these lines my -manuscript will be in your hands. Perhaps you will feel a little of -the pleasure which I have myself when I think of my work that is now -completed. I am at the end of my thirty-fifth year, 'the middle of -life,' they used to say some thousand years ago: it is the age at which -Dante had his vision, as he tells us in the first verses of his poem. -I am now in this middle of life, and on all sides so hard pressed by -death, that at any hour it may take me; my life is such that I must -foresee a _rapid_ death, in spasms.... So I feel like a very old man, -and the more because I _have done_ the work of my life. I have poured -out a good drop of oil, I know it, it will be accounted to me. I -have experienced my manner of life to the full; many will experience -it after me. My continual, my bitter sufferings have not altered my -humour up to the present. On the contrary, it seems to me that I feel -gayer, more kindly, than ever I was: whence comes this influence which -fortifies me and ameliorates my condition? Not from men, for all -but a few are provoked against me,[2] and do not grudge the trouble -of letting me know it. Dear friend, read this last manuscript from -end to end, and see if any trace of suffering or of depression is -there disclosed. I _think not,_ and this very conviction assures me -that there must be some hidden strength in my thoughts, and not that -lassitude, that powerlessness, which those who do not approve of me -would like to find in them." - -At this instant of his life Nietzsche made ready to die. How? It is not -too hazardous to guess. He was waiting for that "rapid end in spasms," -which had swept off his father in madness, and a pious sentiment -brought him back to the domestic hearth. Released from the obligations -which kept him at Basle, free to choose his retreat, he resisted the -call of Peter Gast from Venice. It was no time for learning to know and -to love a new beauty. "No," said he, "in spite of Overbeck, in spite -of my sister, who press me to rejoin you, I shall not go. In certain -circumstances, as I think, it is fitting that one should be closer to -one's mother, one's hearth, one's souvenirs of childhood...." - -It was to Naumburg, therefore, that he proceeded. He wished to lead -there a life of entire peace, and to distract himself from thought by -manual labour. In a tower of the old ramparts he hired a great room. -Below the old wall there extended an unused piece of land, and this he -took on lease and cultivated. "I have ten fruit trees," he wrote, "and -roses, lilacs, carnations, strawberries, goose-berry bushes, and green -gooseberries. At the beginning of next year I shall have ten rows of -vegetables growing." - -But the invalid was soon obliged to abandon these plans. The winter was -rigorous. Friedrich Nietzsche could not withstand either the glare of -the snow which dazzled his eyes, or the humid air which depressed and -shattered his nerves. In a few weeks he had lost the benefit derived -from his visit to the Engadine. - -_The Traveller and his Shadow,_ the proofs of which Peter Gast had -corrected, was published. Apparently it was better understood than the -preceding collections had been. Rohde wrote Nietzsche a letter which -pleased him. Certainly he did not express unqualified admiration. "This -clear but never emotional view of humanity," said he, "pains him who -loves you and who hears the friend in every word." But, on the whole, -he admired. - -"What you give to your readers," he wrote, "you can scarcely surmise, -for you live in your own mind. But a voice like yours is one which -we never hear, either in life or in books. And, as I read you, I -continue to experience what I experienced at your side in the time of -our comradeship: I feel myself raised into a higher order of things, -and spiritually ennobled. The conclusion of your book penetrates the -soul. You can and you should, after these discordant harmonies, give us -yet softer, yet diviner strains.... Farewell, my dear friend, you are -always he who gives, I am always he who receives...." - -Nietzsche was happy. "Thanks, dear friend," he wrote on the 28th -of December, 1879; "your old affection sealed anew--it is the most -precious gift which these Christmas days have brought me." But his -answer was brief, and the last two lines of his letter give the reason: -"My condition has again become terrible, my tortures are atrocious; -_sustineo, abstineo;_ and I am astonished at it myself." - -This very strong language contains no exaggeration. His mother and -sister, who saw him suffer, bear witness to the awful days through -which he passed. He accepted suffering as a test, as a spiritual -exercise. He compared his destiny to that of men who were great in -sorrow--Leopardi, for instance. But Leopardi was not brave, for, in -his sickness, he defamed life, and--Nietzsche discovered this hard -truth--an invalid has not the right to be a pessimist. Or the Christ. -But even Christ weakened upon the cross. "Father, Father!" He cried -out, "why hast Thou forsaken Me?" Friedrich Nietzsche had no God, no -father, no faith, no friends. Every prop he had taken from himself, -and yet he did not bend. To complain, even in a passing manner, would -be to avow defeat. He refused to make the avowal. Suffering did not -overwhelm him; on the contrary, it instructed him, and animated his -thought. - -"The enormous tension of the intellect, bent on the mastery of pain," -he writes, "shows everything in a new light: and the unspeakable -charm of every new light is often powerful enough to overcome all the -allurements of suicide, and to make the continuance of life appear as -most desirable to the sufferer. Scornfully he reviews the warm and -comfortable dream-world, wherein the healthy man moves unthinkingly; -scornfully he reviews the noblest and dearest of the illusions in which -he formerly indulged; this contempt is his joy, it is the counterpoise -which enables him to hold his own against physical pain, a counterpoise -the necessity of which he now feels.... Our pride revolts as it never -did before: joyfully does it defend life against such a tyrant as pain, -that tyrant that would force us to testify against life. To stand for -life in the face of this tyrant is a task of infinite fascination."[3] - -Friedrich Nietzsche supposed that his end was close at hand. On the -14th of January, wishing to give a last indication of his thought -to some friend, he wrote Fräulein von Meysenbug a letter which is a -farewell and a spiritual testament. What an effort it must have cost -him! - -"Although to write is one of the fruits which is most strongly -forbidden me, still I want you to have one more letter from me, you -whom I love and venerate like a beloved sister--it will be the last! -For the awful and almost incessant martyrdom of my life gives me a -thirst for death, and, according to certain signs, I am now near -enough to that access of fever, which shall save me, to be permitted -to hope. I have suffered so much, I have renounced so many things that -there is no ascetic, of any time, to whose life I have not the right to -compare my life in this last year. Nevertheless I have acquired a great -deal. My soul has gained in purity, in sweetness, and I no longer need -religion or art for that. (You will remark that I have some pride; that -is because in my state of entire abandonment I have been able finally -to discover my intimate sources of consolation.) I think that I have -done the work of my life as a man may to whom no time is left. But I -know that for many men I have poured out a drop of good oil, that many -men will be guided by me towards a higher, a more serene, and lucid -life. I give you this supplementary information: when my _humanity_ -shall have ceased to be, men will say so. No sorrow has been or will be -able to induce me to give false evidence on life, as I know it. - -"To whom should I say all this if not to you? I think--but it is -immodest to say so--that our characters resemble each other. For -instance: both of us are brave, and neither distress nor contempt -has been able to turn us from the path which we recognised as the -right path. And both of us have known, in us, around us, many a -truth, the dazzling splendour of which few of our contemporaries have -perceived--we hope for humanity and, silently, offer ourselves in -sacrifice for it, do we not? - -"Have you good news of the Wagners? For three years I have heard -nothing of them. They, too, have forsaken me. I knew for long that -Wagner would separate from me as soon as he should have recognised the -difference of our efforts. I have been told that he writes against me. -Let him: all means must be used to bring the truth to light! I think -of him with a lasting gratitude, for I owe him some of the strongest -incitements towards spiritual liberty. Madame Wagner, as you know, -is the most sympathetic woman whom I have met. But our relations are -ended, and assuredly I am not the man to resume them. It is too late. - -"Receive, dear friend, who are a sister to me, the salutation of a -young old man to whom life has not been cruel, although it has come -about that he desires to die." - - * * * * * - -He lived, nevertheless. Paul Rée came to see him, read to him, and -succeeded in distracting his thoughts. The weather, which had tried -him so severely, grew warmer, and the snow, which had dimmed his -eyesight, melted. Peter Gast, living as in the previous year at Venice, -steadily wrote and called to him. In the middle of February he felt, -with surprise, a reawakening of strength; his desires, his curiosities -returned to him, and he set out at once. - -He stayed for a month on the shores of Lake Garda, at Riva, and the -improvement in his letters gave his relatives some hope. On the 13th of -March he was at Venice: from that day the end of this crisis and his -convalescence must be dated. - -He had not yet loved Italy. What parts of it did he know? The Lakes: -but their somewhat oppressive tepidity was ill-suited to him, and -he did not relish their over-soft harmonies. Naples and its Gulf: -but he was repelled by the Neapolitan crowd; the splendour of the -spectacle had no doubt conquered, but it had scarcely charmed him. No -intimate union had been established between this dazzling scenery and -his spiritual passions. But from the first moment he yielded to the -fascination of Venice. In Venice he found, at a glance, without effort, -what his Greek masters--Homer, Theognis, Thucydides--had formerly given -him: the sensation of a lucid intellect, which lived without dreams or -scruples. Against dreams, against scruples, against the prestige of a -romantic art, he had been fighting for four years. The beauty of Venice -was his deliverance. He remembered his agonies and smiled at himself. -Had he not flattered himself in supposing that he was the most wretched -of men? What man who suffered has not had this thought, this childish -conceit? - -"When a first dawn of assuagement, of recovery, supervenes," he wrote, -"then we ungratefully humiliate the pride which formerly made us -bear our sorrow, we deal with ourselves like naïve simpletons--as if -something unique had happened to us! Again we look around at men and at -nature, with desire; _the tempered lights_ of life recomfort us; again -health plays its magical tricks with us. We contemplate the spectacle -as if we were transformed, benevolent and still fatigued. In this -condition one cannot hear music without weeping." - -Peter Gast attended him with touching kindness. He accompanied him in -his walks, read to him, played him his favourite music. At this period -Friedrich Nietzsche liked Chopin above all musicians; he discovered a -daring, a freedom of passion in his rhapsodies, which is seldom the -gift of German art. Doubtless we must think of Chopin in reading those -last words, "In this condition one cannot hear music without weeping." - -Peter Gast also played the part of secretary, for Nietzsche had -recovered his ardour for work. Day by day he dictated his thoughts. He -chose, immediately, the title for a new collection (he gave up the idea -quickly), _L'Ombra di Venezia._ Indeed, did he not owe to the presence -of Venice this richness, this force, this subtlety of his mind? He -essayed new researches. Was it true, as he had written, that a cold -calculation of interest determines the actions of men? that a mean -desire for safety, for ease, for happiness, had created that excessive -beauty to which Venice stands witness? Venice is unique; nevertheless, -she exists and must be explained. A spiritual portent must explain the -physical marvel. What, then, are the hidden springs which determine -our acts? Life, Schopenhauer used to say, is a pure _Will to Live;_ -every being desires to persevere in being. We may go further, thinks -Friedrich Nietzsche, and say that life aspires ever to extend and -surpass itself. Its desire is, not conservation, but growth; a -principle of conquest and of exaltation must be linked to its essence. -How is this principle to be formulated? Nietzsche did not yet know; but -the idea was with him, and importunate. He felt that he was on the eve -of a discovery, on the threshold of an unknown world; and he wrote, or -dictated, to his friend: - -"Actions are never what they appear to be. We have had such difficulty -in learning that external things are not what they appear to us. Well, -it is the same with the internal world! Deeds are in reality 'something -other'--more we cannot say of them, and all deeds are essentially -unknown." - -In July he tried the waters of Marienbad. He lived in a little inn, -situated opposite the wood, where he walked all the length of the day. - -"I am absorbed, and excavate zealously in my moral mines," he wrote -to Peter Gast, "and it seems to me that I have become an altogether -subterranean being--it seems to me, at this moment, that I have found a -passage, an opening; a hundred times I shall be thus persuaded and then -deceived." - -In September he was at Naumburg; he seemed to be in a joyful and -talkative humour; his sister Lisbeth recognised on his face that -expression of cheerful sweetness which denotes good mental work, a -plenitude and an afflux of thoughts. On the 8th of October, fearing the -fogs, he descended towards Italy. He stopped at Stresa, on the shore of -the Lake Maggiore. But the climate did not agree with his nerves, and -unsettled his meditations. It was with terror that he recognised once -more that the tyranny of external influences held him at its mercy. -He took fright; could he, if he lived always in a state of suffering, -express those innumerable ideas, philosophical and lyrical, which -pressed on him? To acquire health was, he thought, his first duty. He -left Stresa and travelled towards Sorrento. - -Genoa was on his road, and there he stopped. The place charmed him -at first sight. Its people were vigorous, frugal, and gay; the -temperature, in November, almost that of summer. In Genoa was combined -the double energy of mountain and of sea. Nietzsche liked those robust -palaces that stood athwart the little streets. Such monuments had been -raised by Corsair merchants to their own glory, by men whose instincts -were fettered by no scruples. And his visionary spirit evoked them, -for he stood in need of those Italians of a former time who were so -lucid, so grasping, and who had in them so little of the Christian; who -lied to others, but were frank towards themselves, without sophistry. -He needed them in order to repress that romantic reverie which was -not to be extinguished in him. He desired, like Rousseau, a return to -nature. But Rousseau's Europe was one thing, and Nietzsche's another. -Rousseau's offended against the sentiments of piety, against human -sympathy, against goodness; Nietzsche's was a sluggish Europe under the -domination of the herd, and it offended against other sentiments; very -different, too, was the oppressed nature which he exalted and in which -he sought the cure and the refreshment of his soul. - -He wished to make a stay at Genoa. After some trouble he found a -perfect home: a garret, with a very good bed, at the top of a staircase -of a hundred and four steps, in a house which looked out on a path -so steep and stiff that no one passed that way, and that grass grew -between the paving stones--Salita delle Battistine, 8. - -He arranged his life in a manner as simple as his domicile, and thus -realised one of his many dreams. Often he used to say to his mother: -"How do the common people live? I would like to live like them." His -mother would laugh. "They eat potatoes and greasy meat; they drink -bad coffee and alcohol...." Nietzsche sighed: "Oh, those Germans!" In -his Genoese house, with its poor inmates, customs were different. His -neighbours lived soberly. He imitated them and ate sparely; his thought -was quicker and livelier. He bought a spirit lamp, and, under his -land-lady's teaching, learnt how to prepare his own risotto, and fry -his own artichokes. He was popular in the big house. When he suffered -from headaches, he had many visitors, full of concern for him. "I need -nothing," he would say, simply: "_Sono contento._" - -In the evening, in order to rest his eyes, he would lie stretched out -on his bed, without light in the room. "It is poverty," opined the -neighbours; "the German professor is too poor to burn candles." He was -offered some: he was grateful, smiled, and explained the circumstances. -They called him _Il Santo, il piccolo Santo._ He knew it, and it amused -him. "I think," he wrote, "that many among us, with their abstemious, -regular habits, their kindliness and their clear sense, would, were -they transported into the semi-barbarism of the sixth to the tenth -centuries, be revered like Saints." He conceived and drew up a rule of -life: - -"An independence which offends no one; a mollified, veiled pride, a -pride which does not discharge itself upon others because it does not -envy their honours or their pleasures, and is able to stand the test -of mockery. A light sleep, a free and peaceful bearing, no alcohol, no -illustrious or princely friendships, neither women nor newspapers, no -honours, no society--except with superior minds; in default of them, -the simple people (one cannot dispense with them; to see them is to -contemplate a sane and powerful vegetation); the dishes which are most -easily prepared, and, if possible, prepared by oneself, and which do -not bring us into contact with the greedy and lip-smacking rabble." - -For Friedrich Nietzsche health was a fragile possession, and the -more precious in that it must be incessantly conquered, lost, and -reconquered. Every favourable day made him feel that surprise which -constitutes the happiness of convalescents. - -On jumping from his bed, he equipped himself, stuffed into his pouch a -bundle of notes, a book, some fruit and bread; and then started out on -the road. "As soon as the sun is risen," he wrote, "I go to a solitary -rock near the waves and lie out on it beneath my umbrella, motionless -as a lizard, with nothing before me but the sea and the pure sky." -There he would remain for a long time, till the very last hours of -the twilight. For these hours were kindly to those weak eyes of his, -that were so often deprived of light and so often blinded by it--those -menaced eyes, the least of whose joys was a delight. - -"Here is the sea," he wrote, "here we may forget the town. Though -its bells are still ringing the Angelus--that sad and foolish, yet -sweet sound at the parting of day and night--only another minute! Now -all is hushed! There lies the broad ocean, pale and glittering, but -it cannot speak. The sky is glistening in its eternal mute evening -glory, in red, yellow, green hues; it cannot speak either. The small -cliffs and crags, projecting into the sea--as though trying to find -the most lonely spot--not any of them can speak. This eternal muteness -which suddenly overcomes us is beautiful and awful; it makes the heart -swell...."[4] - -How often has he celebrated this hour, when, as he says, the humblest -fisherman "rows with golden oars." Then he collected the fruits of -the day; he wrote the thoughts which had come to him, clothed in the -form and the music of their words. He continued the researches which -he had begun at Venice. What is human energy? What is the drift of its -desires? How are the disorders of its history, the quagmire of its -manners, to be explained? He now knows the answer, and it is this, that -the same cruel and ambitious force thrusts man against man, and the -ascetic against himself. Nietzsche had to analyse and to define this -force in order to direct it; this was the problem which he set himself, -and he was confident that he would one day resolve it. Willingly he -compared himself to the great navigators, to that Captain Cook who for -three months navigated the coral-reefs, fathom-line in hand. In this -year 1881, his hero was the Genoese, Christopher Columbus, who, when -no land had yet appeared, recognised on the waves meadow grasses which -had been carried into the open sea by some unknown river, the waters of -which were milky and still free from salt. - -"Whither do we wish to go?" he wrote. "Do we long to cross the sea? -Whither does this powerful desire urge us which we value above all our -other passions? Why this mad flight towards that place where every sun -has hitherto _sunk_ and _perished?_ Will they, perhaps, one day, relate -of us that we also steered westward, hoping to reach an unknown India, -but that it was our fate to suffer shipwreck on the Infinite? Or else, -my brothers, or else?" - -Nietzsche liked this lyrical page; he placed it at the end of his book -as a final hymn. "What other book," he wrote, "concludes with an Or -Else?" - -By the end of January he had finished his work. But he was not able -to re-copy his manuscript; his hand was too nervous, his eyesight too -weak. He sent it on to Peter Gast. On the 13th of March the copy was -ready, and Nietzsche announced it to the publisher. - -"Here is the manuscript, from which I find it hard to part.... Now, -hurry, hurry, hurry! I shall leave Genoa as soon as the book is out, -and till then I shall live on cinders. Be quick, hurry up the printer! -Can't he give you a written promise that by the end of April, at the -latest, I shall have my book in hand, ready, complete? ... My dear Herr -Schmeitzner, let us all, for this once, do our best. The contents of my -book are so important! It is a matter involving our honour that it be -faulty in nothing, that it come into the world worthy and stainless. -I conjure you, do that for me; no advertising. I could tell you a -great deal more about it, but you will be able to understand it all by -yourself when you have read my book." - -The publisher read the manuscript, but understood it ill; he displayed -no enthusiasm. In April, Nietzsche, still at Genoa, was still waiting -for his proofs. He had hoped to surprise his friends by despatching an -unexpected piece of work, and had said nothing to anyone, Peter Gast -excepted. At last he renounced the pleasure of having a secret. "Good -news!" he wrote to his sister. "A new book, a big book, a decisive -book! I cannot think of it without a lively emotion...." In May, he -rejoined Peter Gast in a village of Venetia, Recoaro, at the foot of -the Alps. His impatience grew every day. The delays of his publisher -prevented him from clearing up the new thoughts which already pressed -hard on him. - -_The Dawn of Day_--this was the title which he finally -selected--appeared at the most unfavourable time of the year, in July. - - -[1] Lit. torchlike. - -[2] This is an evangelical reminiscence, thinks Peter Gast. Scriptural -suggestions are frequent in the language and thought of Nietzsche. - -[3] _The Dawn of Day,_ cxiv. This book, published in June, 1881, gives -very reliable autobiographical indications on the period here studied. - -[4] _The Dawn of Day,_ p. 301. This passage is taken from Miss Johanna -Volz's translation. London: T. Fisher Unwin. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -THE LABOUR OF ZARATHUSTRA - - -I - -_The Conception of the Eternal Return_ - -Friedrich Nietzsche regarded _The Dawn of Day_ as the exercise of a -convalescent who amuses himself with desires and ideas, and finds in -each a malicious or a delightful pleasure. It had been a game which -must have an end. I must now choose from among these half-perceived -ideas, he thought, I must lay hold of one, express it in its full -force, and close my years of retreat and hesitation. "In times of -peace," he had written, "the man of warlike instinct turns against -himself." Hardly done with his combats, he sought a new occasion for -battle. - -He had remained, up to mid-July, in Venetia, on the lower slopes of -the Italian Alps. He had to seek a cooler refuge. He had not forgotten -those high Alpine valleys which had given him, two years earlier, in -his ill-health a respite and a rapid joy. He went up towards them and -installed himself in a rustic fashion in the Engadine, at Sils-Maria. -He had, for one franc a day, a room in a peasant house; a neighbouring -inn furnished him with his meals. Passers by were rare, and Nietzsche, -when he found himself in talkative humour, used to visit the curé -or the schoolmaster. These good people always remembered this very -singular German professor who was so learned, so modest, and so good. - -He was then reflecting on the problems of naturalistic philosophy. -Spencer's system had just come into vogue. Friedrich Nietzsche despised -this cosmogony which affected to supplant Christianity and yet remained -in submission to it. Spencer ignored Providence, yet believed in -progress. He preached the reality of a concert between the movements -of things and the aspirations of humanity. He preserved the Christian -harmonies in a God-less universe. Friedrich Nietzsche had been a pupil -at more virile schools; he heard Empedocles, Heraclitus, Spinoza, -Goethe, thinkers who with a calm regard could study Nature without -seeking in her some assent to their longings. He remained obedient to -these masters, and he felt growing and ripening in him a great and a -new idea. - -We can divine from his letters the emotion with which he was seized. He -needed to be alone, and energetically defended his solitude. Paul Rée, -who admired _The Dawn,_ wished to go to him and tell him so. Friedrich -Nietzsche learnt this and was in despair. - -"MY GOOD LISBETH," he wrote to his sister, "I cannot make up my mind -to telegraph to Rée not to come. Nevertheless, I must consider him an -enemy who comes to interrupt my summer's work, my work in the Engadine, -that is to say my duty itself, my 'one thing necessary.' A man here, in -the middle of all these thoughts which gush out from all sides within -me--it would be a terrible thing; and if I cannot defend my solitude -better, I leave Europe for many years, I swear it! I have no more time -to lose." - -Fräulein Nietzsche forewarned Paul Rée, who abandoned his project. - -At length he found it, the idea, the presentiment of which had agitated -him with such violence. One day, when he was going across the wood -of Sils-Maria as far as Silvaplana, he sat down not far from Surlei -at the foot of a pyramidal rock; at this moment and in this place -he conceived the Eternal Return. He thought: Time, whose duration -is infinite, must bring back, from period to period, an identical -disposition of things. This is necessary; therefore it is necessary -that all things return. In a number of days that is unforeseeable, -immense, yet limited, a man like to me in everything, myself in fact, -seated in the shade of this rock, will again find in this very place -this very idea. And this very idea will be rediscovered by this man not -once only, but an infinite number of times, for this movement which -brings things back is infinite. Therefore we must throw all hope aside -and think resolutely: no celestial world will receive men, no better -future will console them. We are the shadows of a blind and monotonous -nature, the prisoners of every moment. But beware! this redoubtable -idea which forbids hope ennobles and exalts every minute of our lives; -the moment is no longer a passing thing, if it come back eternally; -the least thing is an eternal monument endowed with infinite value, -and, if the word "divine" has any sense, divine. "Let everything return -ceaselessly," he wrote, "it is the extreme _rapprochement_ of a world -of becoming with a world of being: summit of meditation."[1] - -The emotion of the discovery was so strong that he wept, and remained -for a long time bathed in tears. So his effort had not been in vain. -Without weakening before reality, without withdrawing from pessimism, -but, on the contrary, leading the pessimistic idea to its final -consequences, Nietzsche had discovered this doctrine of the Return, -which, by conferring eternity on the most fugitive things, restores -in each of them the lyrical power, the religious value necessary to -the soul. In a few lines he formulated the idea, and dated it: "the -beginning of August, 1881, at Sils-Maria, 6,500 feet above the sea and -far more than that above all human things!" - -He lived for some weeks in a condition of rapture and of anguish: no -doubt the mystics knew similar emotions, and their vocabulary suits his -case. He experienced a divine pride; but simultaneously recoiled in -fear and trembling, like those prophets of Israel before God receiving -from Him the function of their mission. The unhappy man, who had been -so wounded by life, faced with an indescribable horror the perpetuity -of the Return. It was an insupportable expectation, a torment; but he -loved this torment, and he forced this idea of the Eternal Return on -himself as an ascetic does martyrdom. "Lux mea crux," he wrote in his -notes, "crux mea lux! Light my cross, cross my light!" His agitation, -which time did not appease, became extreme. He grew alarmed, for he was -not unaware of the danger which lay over his life. - -"On my horizon thoughts rise, and what thoughts!" he wrote to Peter -Gast on the 14th of August. "I did not suspect anything of this kind. -I say no more of it, I wish to maintain a resolute calm. Alas, my -friend, presentiments sometimes cross my mind. It seems to me that I -am leading a very dangerous life, for my machine is one of those which -may GO SMASH! The intensity of my sentiments makes me shudder and laugh ---twice already I have had to stay in my room, and for a ridiculous -reason; my eyes were inflamed, why? Because while I walked I had cried -too much; not sentimental tears, but tears of joy; and I sang and -said idiotic things, being full of a new idea which I must proffer to -men...." - -Then he conceived a new task. All that he had hitherto done was but -an awkward experiment or research; the time was come when he should -erect the structure of his work. Of what work? He hesitated: his gifts -as an artist, as a critic, as a philosopher, seduced him in various -directions. Should he put his doctrine in the form of a system? No, it -was a symbol and must be surrounded with poetry and rhythm. Could he -not renew that forgotten form which was created by the thinkers of the -most ancient Greece? Lucretius had handed down the model. Friedrich -Nietzsche welcomed this idea; it would please him to translate his -conception of nature into poetic language, into musical and measured -prose. He sought, and his desire for a rhythmical language, for a -living and, as it were, palpable form, suggested a new thought to him: -could he not introduce at the centre of his work a human and prophetic -figure, a hero? A name occurred to him; Zarathustra, the Persian -apostle, the mystagogue of fire. A title, a subtitle, four lines -rapidly written, announced the poem: - - -MIDDAY AND ETERNITY - -_Sign of a New Life_ - -"Zarathustra, born on the borders of Lake Urumiyah, left his country -when thirty years old, went towards the province of Aria, and in ten -years of solitude composed the Zend-Avesta." - -Henceforward his walks and meditations were no longer solitary. -Friedrich Nietzsche never ceased to hear and gather the words of -Zarathustra. In three distiches of a soft and almost tender seduction -he tells how this companion entered into his life: - -_Sils-Maria_ - -I sat there waiting--waiting for nothing, Enjoying, beyond good and -evil, now The light, now the shade; there was only The day, the lake, -the noon, time without end. Then, my friend, suddenly one became -two--And Zarathustra passed by me. - -In September the weather suddenly became cold and snowy. Friedrich -Nietzsche had to leave the Engadine. - - * * * * * - -The intemperate weather had tried him; he lost his exaltation, and a -long period of depression set in. He constantly thought of the Eternal -Return, but now, having lost courage, he only felt a horror of it. "I -have lived again through the days at Basle," he wrote to Peter Gast. -"Over my shoulder death looks at me." His complaints are brief; a word -is enough to let us divine the abysses. Thrice, during these weeks of -September and October, he was tempted to suicide. "Whence came this -temptation? It was not that he wished to avoid suffering; he was brave. -Did he then wish to prevent the ruin of his intellect? This second -hypothesis is perhaps the true one. - -He stopped at Genoa. The damp winds and the lowering skies of the -capricious autumn continued to try him. He bore impatiently with the -absence of light. A melancholy of another kind complicated his trouble: -_The Dawn of Day_ had had no success. The critics had ignored the work, -his friends had read it with difficulty; Jacob Burckhardt had expressed -a polite but prudent judgment. "Certain parts of your book," he wrote, -"I read like an old man, with a feeling of vertigo." Erwin Rohde, the -dearest, the most esteemed, had not acknowledged the receipt of the -book. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote to him from Genoa on October 21st: - -"DEAR OLD FRIEND,--No doubt some embarrassment delays you. I pray you, -in all sincerity, not to write! There will be no change in our mutual -sentiments; I cannot bear to think that in sending a book to a friend I -exercise upon him a sort of pressure. What matters a book! What I have -still to do matters more--or why should I live? The moment is bitter, I -suffer much. Cordially your "F. N." - -Erwin Rohde did not answer even this letter. How explain the want of -success of _The Dawn?_ Doubtless it is a very old story, the constant, -the universal, the irremediable misadventure of the unrecognised -genius because he is a genius, a novelty, a surprise, and a scandal. -Nevertheless we may, perhaps, grasp some definite reasons. Nietzsche, -since he had withdrawn from the Wagnerian circle, had no more friends; -and a group of friends is the most indispensable intermediary between -a great mind which is trying its skill and the mass of the public. He -is alone before unknown readers, who are disconcerted by his incessant -variations. He hopes that the lively form of his work will capture -and conquer them. But even the form is unfavourable. No book has so -difficult an address as a collection of aphorisms and brief thoughts. -The reader must give all his attention to every page and decipher an -enigma; lassitude comes quickly. Besides, it is probable that a German -public, with little feeling for the art of prose, unskilful in grasping -its features, accustomed to slow and sustained effort, was ill-prepared -to understand this unforeseen work. - -November was fine; Friedrich Nietzsche recovered his spirits. "I lift -myself above my disasters," he wrote He wandered over the mountains of -the Genoese coast, he returned to the rocks on which had come to him -the prose of _The Dawn. _ Such was the mildness of the weather that he -could bathe in the sea. "I feel so rich, so proud," he wrote to Peter -Gast, "altogether _'principe Doria._ I miss only you, dear friend, you -and your music!" - -Since the representations of the _Nibelungen_ at Bayreuth--that is, -for five years--Friedrich Nietzsche had deprived himself of music. -_Cave musicam!_ he wrote. He feared that if he abandoned himself to -the delight in sound he would be recaptured by the magic of Wagnerian -art. But he was finally delivered from these fears. His friend Peter -Gast had played him, in June, at Recoaro, songs and choruses which he -had amused himself in composing on the epigrams of Goethe. Paul Rée -had said one day, "No modern musician would be capable of putting to -music such slight verses." Peter Gast had taken up the challenge and -won, thought Nietzsche, who was ravished by the vivacity of the rhythm. -"Persevere," he advised his friend; "work against Wagner the musician, -as I work against Wagner the philosopher. Let us try, Rée, you and -I, to free Germany. If you succeed in finding a music suited to the -universe of Goethe (it does not exist), you will have done a great -thing." This thought reappears in each of his letters. His friend is -at Venice, he is at Genoa, and he hopes that this winter Italy will -inspire in them both, the two uprooted Germans, a new metaphysic and a -new music. - -He took advantage of his improved health to go to the theatre. -He listened to the _Semiramis_ of Rossini, and four times to the -_Juliette_ of Bellini. One evening he was curious to hear a French -work, the author being unknown to him: - -"Hurrah! dear friend," he wrote to Peter Gast, "another happy -discovery, an opera of Georges Bizet (who is he, then?), _Carmen._ It -is like a story of Mérimée's, clever, powerful, sometimes touching. A -true French talent which Wagner has not misguided, a frank disciple -of Berlioz.... I almost think that _Carmen_ is the best opera which -exists. As long as we live it will remain in all the repertoires of -Europe." - -The discovery of _Carmen_ was the event of his winter. Many times he -spoke of it, many times he returned to it; when he heard this frank and -impassioned music, he felt better armed against the romantic seductions -which were always powerful in his soul. "_Carmen_ delivers me," he was -to write. - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche again found the happiness which he had enjoyed -in the preceding year; a like happiness, but sustained by a graver -kind of emotion: the full midday of his thought rose after the dawn. -Towards the end of December he passed a crisis and surmounted it. A -sort of poem in prose commemorated this crisis. We will translate it -here. It is the consequence of his meditations, of those examinations -of conscience which he used to write down, as a young man, each Saint -Sylvester's Day: - -"_For the New Year._--I still live, I still think: I must still live, -for I must still think. _Sum, ergo cogito: cogito, ergo sum._ This is -the day upon which every one is permitted to express his desire and -his dearest thought: I, too, shall then express the inner wish which I -form to-day, and say what thought I take to heart, this year, before -all other--what thought I have chosen as the reason, guarantee, and -sweetness of my life to come! I wish to try each day to see in all -things necessity as a beauty--thus shall I be one of those who make -things beautiful. _Amor fati,_ let that be henceforward my love! I -do not wish to go to battle against the hideous. I do not wish to -accuse, I do not even wish to accuse the accusers. _To avert my -gaze,_ let that be my sole negation. In a word, I wish to be, in every -circumstance, a Yea-Sayer!" - -The thirty days of January passed without a cloud appearing in the -sky. He was to dedicate to this fine month, as a sign of gratitude, -the fourth book of the _Gay Science,_ which he entitled _Sanctus -Januarius;_ an admirable book rich in critical thought, in intimate -refinements, and from the first to the last line dominated by a sacred -emotion--_Amor fati._ - -In February Paul Rée, passing through Genoa, stayed some days with his -friend, who showed him his favourite walks and brought him to those -rocky creeks "where in some six hundred years, some thousand years," he -wrote gaily to Peter Gast, "they will raise a statue to the author of -_The Dawn"_ Then Paul Rée went on to Rome, where Fräulein von Meysenbug -was waiting for him. He had a curiosity to penetrate into the Wagnerian -world there, which was greatly excited in expectation of _Parsifal;_ -it was in July, at Bayreuth, that the Christian mystery was to be -presented. Friedrich Nietzsche did not wish to accompany Paul Rée, and -the approaching performance of the _Parsifal_ only made his ardour -for work the more active. Had he not--he, too--a great work which he -must ripen? Had he not to write his anti-Christian mystery, his poem -of the Eternal Return? It was his constant thought. It procured him a -happiness, thanks to which he could recall with less torturing regret -the master of by-gone days. Richard Wagner seemed very far and very -near; very far as regards his ideas, but what are ideas worth to a -poet? Very near in sentiments, desires, lyrical emotion; and were -not these the essential things? All disaccord between poets is only -a question of shades, for they inhabit the same universe, they work -with a like heart to give a significance and a supreme value to the -movements of the human soul. Reading this page which Nietzsche then -wrote, it is easier to understand the condition of his mind: - -"_Stellar Friendship._--We were friends, and we have become strangers -to each other. Ah, yes; but it is well so, and we wish to hide nothing, -to disguise nothing from one another; we have nothing to be ashamed -of. We are two ships, each with a bourne and a way. By chance we have -crossed paths; we have made holiday together--and then our two good -ships have so tranquilly reposed in the one port and under the same -sun, that it seemed as though they had both attained their bourne. But -the all-powerful force of our mission has driven us afresh towards -divers seas and suns--and perhaps we shall not meet, or recognise one -another again: the divers seas and suns will have transformed us! We -had to become strangers; a reason the more why we should mutually -respect ourselves! No doubt there exists a far off, invisible and -prodigious cycle which gives a common law to our little divagations: -let us uplift ourselves to this thought! But our life is too short, -our vision too feeble; we must content ourselves with this sublime -possibility. And if we must be enemies upon earth, in spite of all we -believe in our stellar friendship." - -What form did the poetical exposition of the Eternal Return then take -in his soul? We do not know. Nietzsche did not care to talk about his -work; he liked to complete it before making announcements. However, -he wished that his friends should know the new movement in which his -thought was engaged. He addressed to Fräulein von Meysenbug a letter in -which Wagner was treated without deference, then he added a mysterious -enough promise: "If I am not illusioned as to my future, it is by my -work that what is best in the work of Wagner will be continued--and -here, perhaps, is the comical side to the adventure." - - * * * * * - -At the beginning of spring Friedrich Nietzsche, following out a -caprice, made a bargain with the captain of an Italian sailing -vessel bound for Messina and crossed the Mediterranean. The passage -was a terrible one, and he was sick to death. But his stay was at -first happy: he wrote verses, a pleasure which he had not known for -several years. They are impromptus and epigrams, perhaps inspired by -those Goethean sallies which Peter Gast had put to music. Nietzsche -then sought for a corner of nature and of humanity favourable to -the production of his great work: Sicily, "Curb of the world where -Happiness has her habitation," as old Homer teaches, struck him as -an ideal refuge, and, suddenly forgetting that he could not bear the -heat, he decided to stay in Messina for the whole summer. Some days of -sirocco, towards the end of April, prostrated him, and he prepared for -departure. It was in these circumstances that he received a message -from Fräulein von Meysenbug, who urged him very keenly to stop at -Rome. Rome was a natural stage on his journey, and he accepted. Why -was Fräulein von Meysenbug thus insistent? We know. This excellent -woman had never been resigned to the unhappiness of the friend whose -destiny she had vainly sought to sweeten. She knew the delicacy, the -tenderness of his heart, and often wished to find him a companion; had -he not written to her, "I tell you in confidence, what I need is a -good woman"? In the spring of this year she thought that she had found -her.[2] - -This accounted for her letter. It was Fräulein von Meysenbug's habit to -do good, and her taste; but perhaps she sometimes forgot that goodness -is a difficult art in which the results of defeat are cruel. - -The girl whom Fräulein von Meysenbug had met was called Lou Salomé. -She was scarcely twenty years old; she was a Russian and admirable as -regards her intelligence and intellectual ardour; her beauty was not -perfect, but the more exquisite for its imperfections, and she was -fascinating in the extreme. Sometimes it happens that there arises, -in Paris, in Florence, in Rome, some excited young lady, a native of -Philadelphia, of Bucharest, or of Kief, who comes with a barbarous -impatience to be initiated into culture and to conquer a hearth in our -old capital. The lady in question was of rare quality assuredly; her -mother followed her across Europe, carrying the cloaks and the shawls. - -Fräulein von Meysenbug conceived an affection for her. She gave her -Nietzsche's works; Lou Salomé read them and seemed to understand. -She talked to her at great length of this extraordinary man who had -sacrificed friendship with Wagner for the maintenance of his liberty: -He is a very rugged philosopher, she said, but he is the most -sensitive, the most affectionate friend, and, for those who know him, -the thought of his solitary life is a source of sadness. Miss Salomé -displayed a great deal of enthusiasm and longing; she declared that she -felt vowed to a spiritual share in such a life, and that she wished to -make Nietzsche's acquaintance. In concert with Paul Rée, who, it seems, -had known her for a longer time, and also appreciated her, Fräulein von -Meysenbug wrote to Friedrich Nietzsche. - -He arrived, he heard the praises of Miss Lou sung; she was a woman -of elevated feeling, shrewd and brave; intransigent in research and -in affirmation; a heroine in the manner of her childhood; it was the -promise of a great life. He agreed to see her. One morning, at St. -Peter's, she was presented to him and conquered him at once. He had -forgotten, during his long months of meditation, the pleasure of being -listened to and of talking. "The young Russian" (it is thus that he -calls her in his letters) listened deliciously. She spoke little, but -her calm look, her assured and gentle movements, her least words, left -no doubt as to the quickness of her mind and to the presence of a soul. -Very quickly, perhaps at first sight, Nietzsche liked her. "There's a -soul," he said to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "which has made a little body -for itself with a breath."[3] Miss Salomé did not let herself be thus -enticed. Nevertheless, she felt the singular quality of the man who -talked to her; she had long conversations with him, and the violence of -his thought troubled her even in her sleep. The adventure--it was in -fact a drama--commenced at once. - -A few days after this first interview, Miss Salomé and her mother left -Rome. The two philosophers, Nietzsche and Rée, went with her, both of -them enthusiasts for the young girl. Nietzsche said to Rée: - -"There's an admirable woman, marry her." "No," answered Rée; "I am a -pessimist, and the idea of propagating human life is odious to me. -Marry her yourself; she is the companion that you want...." Nietzsche -dismissed this idea. Perhaps he said to his friend, as he had said -to his sister: "I marry! Never, I would have to be a bar somewhere -or other." Miss Salomé's mother examined these two men who were -so attentive to her child; Friedrich Nietzsche perplexed her; she -preferred Paul Rée. - -The two friends and the two philosophers stopped at Lucerne. Friedrich -Nietzsche wished to show his new friend that house at Triebschen where -he had known Richard Wagner. Who was not then thinking of the master? -He brought her as far as the poplars whose high foliage enclosed the -gardens. He recounted to her the unforgettable days, the gaieties, -the magnificent angers of the great man. Seated by the border of the -lake, he talked in a low, contained voice, and turned his face a -little away, for it was troubled by the memory of those joys of which -he had deprived himself. Suddenly he grew silent, and the young girl, -observing him, saw that he wept. - -He confessed all his life to her; his childhood, the pastor's house, -the mysterious grandeur of the father who had been so quickly taken -away; the pious years, the first doubts, and the horror of this world -without a God in which one must resolve to live; the discovery of -Schopenhauer and of Wagner, the religious feeling which they had -inspired in him and which had consoled him for the loss of his faith. - -"Yes," said he (Miss Salomé reports these words), "my adventures began -in this manner. They are not ended. Where will they lead me? Whither -shall I adventure again? Should I not come back to the faith? to some -new belief?" - -He added gravely: "In any case a return to the past is more likely than -immobility." - -Friedrich Nietzsche had not yet avowed his love; but he felt its force -and no longer resisted. Only he feared to declare himself. He begged -Paul Rée to speak in his name, and withdrew. - -On the 8th of May, settled for some days in Basle, he saw the -Overbecks and confided in them with a strange exaltation. A woman has -come into his life; it is a happiness for him; it will benefit his -thought, which will henceforward be livelier, richer in its shades and -emotion. Assuredly he would prefer not to marry Miss Lou, he disdains -all fleshly ties; but perhaps he ought to give her his name for her -protection against scandalmongers, and from this spiritual union would -be born a spiritual son: the prophet Zarathustra. He is poor; this is a -vexation, an obstacle. But could he not sell all his future work in a -lump to some publisher for a considerable sum? He thought of doing so. -These out-bursts did not fail to trouble the Overbecks, who augured ill -of a liaison so bizarre and of an enthusiasm so ready. - -Friedrich Nietzsche at last received Lou Salomé's reply: she did not -wish to marry. An unhappy love affair, which had just crossed her life, -left her, she said, without strength to conceive and nourish a new -affection. She therefore refused Nietzsche's offer. But she was able to -sweeten the terms of this refusal: the only thing of which she could -dispose, her friendship, her spiritual affection, she offered. - -Friedrich Nietzsche returned at once to Lucerne. He saw Lou Salomé -and pressed her to give a more favourable reply; but the young girl -repeated her refusal and her offer. She was to be present in July at -the Bayreuth festivals, from which Nietzsche wished to abstain. She -promised to rejoin him when they were over and to stay for some weeks -at his side. She would then listen to his teaching, she would confront -the last thought of the master with that of the liberated disciple. -Nietzsche had finally to accept these conditions, these limits which -the young girl placed on their friendship. He advised her to read -one of his books, _Schopenhauer as Educator._ He was always glad to -acknowledge this work of his youth, this hymn to the bravery of a -thinker and to voluntary solitude. "Read it," he said to her, "and you -will be ready to hear me." - -Friedrich Nietzsche left Basle and re-entered Germany, desirous of -becoming reconciled to his country. He was, as we know, accustomed to -such absorbing and unexpected desires. A Swiss, whom he had met at -Messina, had praised the beauty of Grunewald, near Berlin; he wished to -settle there, and wrote to Peter Gast, to whom, six weeks earlier, he -had suggested as a summer residence Messina. - -He went to visit this Grunewald, which pleased him well enough; but he -saw, on the same occasion, Berlin and a few Berliners, who displeased -him extremely. He perceived that his last books had not been read, and -that his thought was ignored. He was only known as the friend of Paul -Rée, and no doubt his disciple. This he did not like. He went without -delay to spend some weeks in Naumburg, where he dictated the manuscript -of his coming book, _La Gaya Scienza_[4]. To his own people, it seems, -to his mother and to his sister, he spoke discreetly of the new friend. -His gaiety amazed them: they did not discern its cause. They did not -know that their strange Friedrich had in his heart a sentiment, a hope -of happiness, which Lou Salomé had been far from discouraging. - -The representation of _Parsifal_ was fixed for the 27th July. Friedrich -Nietzsche went to stay in a village of the Thuringian forests, -Tautenburg, not far from Bayreuth, where all his friends were to -foregather: the Overbecks, the Seydlitzs, Gersdorff, Fräulein von -Meysenbug, Lou Salomé, Lisbeth Nietzsche. He alone was absent from -the rendezvous. At this moment a word from the master would perhaps -have sufficed to bring him back; perhaps he waited for and hoped -for this word. Fräulein von Meysenbug wished to make an attempt at -reconciliation: she dared to name Nietzsche in Wagner's presence. -Wagner told her to be silent and went out of the room banging the door. - -So Friedrich Nietzsche, who no doubt never knew of this overture, -remained in those forests in which he had spent such hard days in -1876. How miserable he had then been and now how rich he was! He had -repressed his doubts; a great thought animated his mind, a great -affection his heart. Lou Salomé had just dedicated to him, as a sign of -spiritual sympathy, a beautiful poem. - - - TO SORROW. - - _Wer kann dich fliehn, den du ergriffen hast,_ - _Wenn du die ernsten Bliche auf ihn richtest?_ - _Ich will nicht flüchten, wenn du mich erfasst,_ - _Ich glaube nimmer, dass du nur vernichtest!_ - - _Ich weiss, durch jedes Erden--Dasein muss du gehn,_ - _Und nichts bleibt unberührt von dir auf Erden:_ - _Das Leben ohne dich--es wäre schön,_ - _Und doch--auch, du bist werth, gelebt zu werden._[5] - - -Peter Gast, having read these verses, thought they were Nietzsche's, -who rejoiced over his error. - -"No," he wrote to him, "this poetry is not by my hand. It is one of the -things which exercise upon me a tyrannical power, I have never been -able to read it without tears; it has the accent of a voice which I -might have waited for, expected since my childhood. My friend Lou, of -whom you have not yet heard, has written it. Lou is the daughter of a -Russian general, she is twenty years old; her mind is as piercing as an -eagle's vision, she has the courage of a lion, and yet she is a very -feminine child, who, perhaps, will hardly live...." - -He re-read his manuscript for the last time and sent it to the printer. -He hesitated a little at the moment of publishing this new collection -of aphorisms. His friends, as he knew, would find fault with these -too numerous volumes, these too brief essays, these scarcely formed -sketches. He listened to them, heard what they had to say, answered -them with an apparent good will. No doubt his modesty was feigned; he -could not bring himself to believe that his essays, short though they -were, his sketches, which were so weak in form, were not worth being -read. - -He thought much of the Bayreuth festivals, but he dissembled or only -half avowed his regrets. "I am well content that I cannot go," he wrote -to Lou Salomé. "And, nevertheless, if I could be at your side, in good -humour to talk; if I could say in your ear this, that, well, I could -endure the music of the _Parsifal_ (otherwise I could not)." - -_Parsifal_ triumphed. Nietzsche mockingly welcomed the news. "Long live -Cagliostro!" he wrote to Peter Gast. "The old enchanter has again had a -prodigious success; the old gentlemen sobbed." - -The "young Russian" came to rejoin him as soon as the festivals were -over; Lisbeth Nietzsche accompanied her. The two ladies installed -themselves in the hotel where Friedrich Nietzsche awaited them; then -he undertook to initiate his friend. - -She had heard the Christian mystery at Bayreuth, the history of human -sorrow traversed like an ordeal and consoled at last by beatitude. -Friedrich Nietzsche taught her a more tragic mystery: sorrow is our -life and our destiny itself; let us not hope to traverse it; let us -accept it more entirely than the Christians ever did! Let us espouse -it; let us love it with an active love; let us be, like it, ardent and -pitiless; hard to others as to ourselves; cruel, let us accept it; -brutal, let us accept it. To lessen it is to be cowardly; and let us -meditate on the symbol of the Eternal Return to practise our courage. -"Unforgettable for me are those hours in which he revealed to me his -thoughts," wrote Miss Salomé. "He confided them to me, as though they -were a mystery unspeakably hard to tell; he only spoke of them in a low -voice, with every appearance of the most profound horror. And truly -life had been for him such bitter suffering that he suffered from -the Eternal Return as from an atrocious certainty." That Miss Salomé -listened to these confessions with great intelligence and real emotion, -the pages which she afterwards wrote assure us. - -She conceived a brief hymn which she dedicated to Friedrich Nietzsche: - - - "As friend loves friend, - So love I thee, life surprising! - Do I weep or joy in thee, - Givest thou me joy or suffering, - I love thee with thy joy and pain. - And if thou must destroy me, - I shall suffer, leaving thee. - As the friend who teareth himself from the arms of the friend, - I caress thee with my whole strength: - Hast thou no other joy for me? - So be it, I have still--thy suffering." - - -Friedrich Nietzsche, delighted with the gift, wished to reply to it -by another gift. For eight years he had forbidden himself musical -composition, which enervated and exhausted him. He undertook to compose -a sorrowful dithyramb on the verses of Miss Salomé. This work was -too moving and caused him great pain: neuralgia, crises of doubt, -barrenness and satiety. He had to take to his bed. Even from his room -he addressed short notes to Lou Salomé. "In bed, terrible attack. _I -scorn life_." - -But these weeks at Tautenburg had their secret history of which we know -little. Lou Salomé, writes Fräulein Nietzsche, was never the sincere -friend of her brother; he roused her curiosity, but her passion, -her enthusiasm, were only feigned, and she was often wearied by his -terrible agitation. She wrote to Paul Rée, from whom Fräulein Nietzsche -was surprised to receive a very singular message: "Your brother," he -said, "tires our friend; shorten, if it be possible, the meeting." - -We are inclined to think that Fräulein Nietzsche was jealous of this -initiation which she had not received, jealous, too, of this young -Slav, whose charm was tinged with mystery, and that we must take what -she has to say with caution. - -No doubt, Nietzsche alarmed Lou Salomé by the violence of his passions -and by the loftiness of his demands. She had not foreseen, in offering -to be his friend, the crises of a friendship ruder than a stormy love. -He demanded an absolute assent to each of his thoughts. The young girl -refused such assent: may the intellect, like the heart, be given? -Nietzsche could not brook her proud reserve, and reproached her, as -though it were a fault, for the independence which she wished to -preserve. A letter to Peter Gast gives us a glimpse into these disputes. - -"Lou remains another week with me," he wrote, on the 20th of August, -from Tautenburg. "She is _the most intelligent of all women._ Every -five days a little tragical scene arises between us. All that I have -written to you about her is absurd, and not less absurd, no doubt, than -what I now write to you." - -This somewhat cautious and reticent phrasing does not suggest that the -heart had escaped its captivity. Lou Salomé left Tautenburg; Friedrich -Nietzsche continued to write letters to her, many of which are known -to us. He confided his work and projects to Lou Salomé: he wished to -go to Paris or Vienna to study the physical sciences and deepen his -theory of the Eternal Return; for it was not enough that it should be -fascinating and beautiful, Nietzsche wished that it should be true. -Thus we saw him, and always will see him, hampered by his critical -spirit when he pursues a lyrical inspiration; hampered by his lyrical -genius when he pursues a critical analysis. He related to her the happy -success of the _Hymn to Life_ which her verses had inspired, and which -he was submitting to the judgment of his musical friends. An orchestral -conductor gave him hope of a hearing: ready for hope as he was, he -communicated the news. "By this little path," he writes, "we can reach -posterity _together_--all other paths remaining open." On September -16th he wrote from Leipsic to Peter Gast. "Latest news: on the 2nd of -October Lou comes here; two months later we leave for Paris; and we -shall stay there, perhaps for years. Such are my projects." - -His mother and sister blamed him; he knew it, and their hostility did -not displease him: "All the virtues of Naumburg are against me," he -wrote, "it is well that it is so ..." - -Two months later, the friendship was broken. Perhaps we may perceive -what had happened. Lou Salomé came to find Nietzsche at Leipsic, as -she had promised; but Paul Rée accompanied her. No doubt she wished -Nietzsche to understand once and for all the nature of a friendship -which was always open to him: free, not slavish; sympathy, not -intellectual devotion. Had she well weighed the difficulties of such an -enterprise, the dangers of such an attempt? These two men were in love -with her. What was her attitude between them? May she not have yielded, -when she tried to keep them both by her, to some instinct, perhaps an -unconscious one, of intellectual curiosity, of conquest and feminine -domination? Who can say, who will ever know? - -Friedrich Nietzsche became melancholy and suspicious. One day he -imagined that his companions, talking together under their breath, were -laughing at him. A piece of gossip reached him, and upset his mind. -The story, puerile though it be, must be told. Rée, Nietzsche, and Lou -Salomé had been photographed together. Lou Salomé and Rée had said to -Nietzsche: "Get into this child's cart: we will hold the shafts; it -will be a symbol of our union." Nietzsche had answered: "I refuse; Miss -Lou will be in the cart; we will hold the shafts, Paul Rée and I." This -Miss Lou did. And she (according to the story repeated to him) sent the -photograph to numerous friends, as a symbol of her supremacy. - -A more cruel thought soon began to torture Friedrich Nietzsche: Lou -and Rée are in agreement against me, he thought; their agreement -condemns them, they love one another and are deceiving me. Then all -became poor and vile around him. A miserable strife terminated the -spiritual adventure of which he had dreamed. He lost his strange and -seductive disciple; he lost the best and most intelligent friend of his -last eight years. Finally, affected and impaired by these humiliating -conditions, he himself did a wrong to friendship and denounced Rée to -Lou. - -"He has a marvellous mind," he said, "but it is feeble and aimless. -His education is the cause of the trouble: every man should have been -brought up in some sort for a soldier. And every woman, in some sort, -for a soldier's wife." - -Nietzsche had neither the experience nor the necessary resolution to -decide an infinitely painful situation. His sister, who detested Miss -Salomé, encouraged his suspicions and his rancours. She intervened in -a brutal manner, and, it seems, without authorisation, wrote the young -girl a letter which determined the rupture. Miss Salomé was angry. -We have the rough draft of the last letter which Friedrich Nietzsche -addressed to her; it throws little light on the detail of these -difficulties. - -"But, Lou, what letters yours are! A little angry schoolgirl writes in -this way. What have I got to do with these bickerings? Understand me: I -wish you to rise in my opinion; not to sink again. - -"I only reproach you for this: you ought to have sooner given an -account of what I expected from you. At Lucerne I gave you my essay on -Schopenhauer--I told you that my views were essentially there, and that -I believed that they would also be yours. Then you should have read -and said: No (in such matters I hate all _superficiality_). You would -have spared me much! Your poem, 'Sorrow,' written by you, is a profound -counter-truth. - -"I believe that no one thinks more good things of you than I do, or -more bad. Do not defend yourself: I have already defended you, to -myself and to others, better than you could do it. Creatures like you -are only bearable to others when they have a _lofty object_. - -"How poor you are in veneration, in gratitude, in piety, in courtesy, -in admiration, in delicacy--I do not speak of higher things. How would -you answer if I asked you: Are you brave? Are you incapable of treason? - -"Do you not then feel that when a man like myself approaches you, he -needs to constrain himself very greatly? You have had to do with one of -the most for-bearing and benevolent of men possible: but against petty -egoism and little weaknesses, my argument, know it well, is _disgust._ -No one is so easily conquered by disgust as I. I have not deceived -myself again on any point whatsoever; I saw in you that holy egoism -which forces us to serve what is highest in us. I do not know by what -sorcery's aid you have exchanged it for its contrary, the egoism of the -cat, which only desires life. - -"Farewell, dear Lou, I shall not see you again. Protect your soul from -like deeds, and succeed better with others in regard to things that, so -far as I am concerned, are irreparable. - -"I have not read your letter to the end, but I have read too much of -it. Your, - -"F. N." - -Friedrich Nietzsche left Leipsic. - - -[1] This formula is given in the _Wille zur Macht,_ paragraph 286. - -[2] This intimate history has never been known except to a few people, -who are now, for the most part, out of our ken. Two women survive: one, -Frau Förster-Nietzsche, has published some accounts which one would -wish were more lucid and tranquil; the other, Miss Salomé, has written -a book on Friedrich Nietzsche in which some facts are indicated and -some letters cited; she has refused to enter into polemics on a subject -which, as she considers, concerns herself alone. Oral traditions are -numerous and contradictory. Some, rife in Roman society, where the -adventure took place, are less favourable to Miss Salomé; she appears -as a sort of Marie Bashkirtseff, an intellectual adventuress who was -somewhat too enterprising. Others, rife in Germany among Miss Salomé's -friends, are very different. We have heard all these traditions. The -first have influenced the account which we have given in the _Cahiers -de la quinzaine,_ the second volume of the tenth series, pp. 24 _et -seq._; the second, which we learned later, we now prefer. But all hope -of certainty must be adjourned. - -[3] "Da ist eine Seele welche sich mit einen Hauch eine Körperchen -geschaffen hat." - -[4] The _y_ in the word _Gaya_ does not seem to be Italian. We follow -Nietzsche's orthography. - -[5] "Who that hath once been seized by thee can fly, if he hath felt -thy grave look turned on him? I shall not save myself, if thou takest -me, I shall never believe thou dost naught but destroy. Yea, thou must -visit all that liveth upon earth, nothing upon earth can evade thy -grip: life without thee--it were beautiful, yet--thou too art worthy to -be lived." - - - -II - - -_Thus Spake Zarathustra_ - - -His departure was prompt, like a flight. He passed through Basle and -stopped with his friends the Overbecks, who listened to his plaint. -He had awakened from his last dream; everyone had betrayed him: Lou, -Rée, feeble and perfidious; Lisbeth, his sister, who had acted grossly. -Of what betrayal did he complain, and of what act? He did not say, -and continued his bitter complaints. The Overbecks wished him to stay -with them for some days. He escaped them; he wished to work, and -surmount alone the sadness of having been deceived, the humiliation of -having deceived himself. Perhaps he also wished to put to profit that -condition of paroxysm and the lyrical _sursum_ whither his despair had -carried him. He left. "To-day," said he to his friends, "I enter into a -complete solitude." - -He left, and stopped in the first instance at Genoa. "Cold, sick. I -suffer," he wrote briefly to Peter Gast. He left this town, where -he was importuned perhaps by memories of a happier time, and moved -away along the coast. At the time of which we speak, Nervi, Santa -Margherita, Rapallo, Zoagli, were places unknown to the tourist, market -towns inhabited by fishermen who, each evening, drew in their barques -to the recesses of the coves and sang as they mended their nets. -Friedrich Nietzsche discovered these magnificent spots, and chose, to -humiliate his misery there, the most magnificent of them, Rapallo. He -relates, in simple language, the circumstances of his sojourn: - -"I spent my winter, 1882 to 1883, in the charming and quiet bay of -Rapallo that is hollowed out by the Mediterranean not far from Genoa, -between the promontory of Portofino and Chiavari. My health was not of -the best; the winter was cold, rainy; a little inn,[6] situated at the -very edge of the sea, so near it that the noise of the waves prevented -me sleeping at night, offered me a shelter very unsatisfactory from -all points of view. Nevertheless--and it is an instance of my maxim -that all that is decisive comes 'nevertheless '--it was during this -winter and in this discomfort that my noble Zarathustra was born. In -the morning I would climb towards the south by the magnificent mountain -road, towards Zoagli, among the pines and dominating the immense sea; -in the evening (according as my health permitted it) I would go round -the bay of Santa Margherita as far as Portofino.... On these two -roads came to me all the first part of Zarathustra (_fiel mir ein_); -and more, Zarathustra himself, as type; more exactly he fell upon me -(_überfiel mich_)...." - -In ten weeks he conceived and completed his poem. It is a new work and, -if one affects to follow the genesis of his thought, a surprising one. -No doubt, he meditated a lyrical work, a sacred book. But the essential -doctrine of this work was to be given by the idea of the Eternal -Return. Now, in the first part of Zarathustra, the idea of the Eternal -Return does not appear. Nietzsche follows a different and opposing -idea, the idea of the Superman, the symbol of a real progress which -modifies things, the promise of a possible escape beyond chance and -fatality. - -Zarathustra announces the Superman, he is the prophet of good tidings. -He has discovered in his solitude a promise of happiness, he bears this -promise; his strength is sweet and benevolent, he predicts a great -future as the reward of a great work. Friedrich Nietzsche, in other -times, will put a more bitter speech into his mouth. If one reads -this first part, and takes care not to confound it with those which -immediately follow, one will feel the sanctity, the frequent suavity of -the accent. - -Why this abandonment of the Eternal Return? Nietzsche does not write -a word which throws light upon this mystery. Miss Lou Salomé tells -us that at Leipsic, during his short studies, he had realised the -impossibility of founding his hypothesis in reason. But this did not -diminish the lyrical value of which he knew how to take advantage -a year later; and this cannot explain, in any case, the appearance -of a contrary idea. What are we to think? Perhaps his stoicism was -vanquished by the betrayal of his two friends. "_In spite of all,_" he -wrote on December 3rd to Peter Gast, "I would not like to live these -latter months over again." We know that he never ceased to experience -in himself the efficacy of his thoughts. Incapable of enduring the -cruel symbol, he did not think that he could sincerely offer it to men, -and he invented a new symbol, Uebermensch, the Superman. "I do not -desire a recommencement," he writes in his notes (_ich will das leben -nicht wieder)._ "How was I able to endure the idea? In creating, in -fixing my view on the Superman, who says _yea_ to life, I have myself -tried to say _Yea_--alas!" - -To the cry of his youth: _Ist Veredlung möglich?_ (Is the ennobling -of man possible?) Friedrich Nietzsche desires to reply, and to reply -_Yes._ He wishes to believe in the Superman, and succeeds in doing -so. He can grasp this hope; it suits the design of his work. What -does he propose to himself? Among all the inclinations which urge -him, this one is strong: to answer the _Parsifal,_ to oppose work to -work. Richard Wagner desired to depict humanity drawn from its languor -by the Eucharistie mystery, the troubled blood of men renovated by -the ever poured out blood of Christ. Friedrich Nietzsche wishes to -depict humanity saved from languor by the glorification of its own -essence, by the virtues of a chosen and willing few which purify and -renew its blood. Is this all his desire? Surely not. _Thus Spake -Zarathustra_ is more than an answer to the _Parsifal._ The origins of -Nietzsche's thoughts are always grave and distant. What is his last -wish? He desires to guide and direct the activity of men; he wishes to -create their morals, assign to the humble their tasks, to the strong -their duties and their commandments, and to raise them all towards a -sublime destiny. As a child, as a youth, as a young man, he had this -aspiration; at thirty-eight years of age, at this instant of crisis and -of decision, he finds it again and desires to act. The Eternal Return -no longer satisfies him: he cannot consent to live imprisoned in a -blind nature. The idea of the Superman on the contrary captivates him: -it is a principle of action, a hope of salvation. - -What is the import of this idea? Is it a reality or a symbol? It is -impossible to say. Nietzsche's mind is rapid and always oscillating. -The vehemence of the inspiration which carries him along leaves -him neither leisure nor strength to define. He hardly succeeds in -understanding the ideas which agitate him, and interprets them himself -in divers ways. At times, the Superman appears to him as a very serious -reality. But more often, it seems, he neglects or disdains all literal -belief, and his idea is no more than a lyrical phantasy with which he -trifles for the sake of animating base humanity. It is an illusion, -a useful and beneficent illusion, he would say, were he still a -Wagnerian, dared he to re-adopt the vocabulary of his thirtieth year. -Then he had liked to repeat the maxim from Schiller: _Dare to dream -and to lie._ We may believe that the Superman is chiefly the dream and -falsehood of a lyrical poet. Every species has its limits which it -cannot transgress. Nietzsche knows this and writes it. - -It was a painful labour. Friedrich Nietzsche, ill-disposed to conceive -a hope, had frequent revolts against the task which he imposed on -himself. Every morning on awakening from a sleep which chloral had -rendered sweet, he rediscovered life with frightful bitterness. -Conquered by melancholy and rancour, he wrote pages which he had at -once to re-read attentively, to correct or erase. He dreaded these bad -hours in which anger, seizing him like a vertigo, obscured his best -thoughts. Then he would evoke his hero, Zarathustra, always noble, -always serene, and seek from him some encouragement. Many a passage of -his poem is the expression of this agony. Zarathustra speaks to him: - - - "Yea: I know thy danger. But by my love and hope, - I conjure thee: reject not thy love and thy hope. - - "The noble one is always in danger of becoming an - insolent, a sneering one and a destroyer. Alas, I have - known noble ones who lost their highest hope. Then - they slandered all high hopes. - - "By my love and my hope I conjure thee; do not cast - away the hero in thy soul! believe in the holiness of thy - highest hope." - - -The struggle was always perceptible; nevertheless Friedrich Nietzsche -advanced his work. Every day he had to learn wisdom anew, and to -moderate, crush, or deceive his desires. He succeeded in this rude -exercise and managed to bring back his soul into a calm and fecund -condition. He completed a poem which was but the opening of a vaster -poem. Zarathustra, returning towards the mountains, abandons the world -of men. Twice again, before he dictates the tables of his law, he is -to descend to it. But what he says suffices to give us a glimpse of -the essential forms of a humanity obedient to its élite. It consists -of three castes: at the bottom, the popular caste, allowed to retain -its humble beliefs; above, the caste of the chiefs, the organisers and -warriors; above the chiefs themselves, the sacred caste, the poets who -create the illusions and dictate the values. One recalls that essay by -Richard Wagner on art, religion, and politics, formerly so much admired -by Nietzsche: in it a similar hierarchy was proposed. - -In its ensemble the work is serene. It is Friedrich Nietzsche's finest -victory. He has repressed his melancholy; he exalts force, not -brutality; expansion, not aggression. In the last days of February, -1882, he wrote these final pages, which are perhaps the most beautiful -and the most religious ever inspired by naturalistic thought. - -"My brethren, remain faithful to the earth, with all the force of your -love! Let your great love and your knowledge be in accord with the -meaning of the earth. I pray you and conjure you. - -"Let not your virtue fly far from terrestrial things, and beat its -wings against the eternal walls! Alas! there is always so much virtue -gone astray! - -"Like myself, bring back towards the earth the virtue which goes -astray--yea, towards the flesh and towards life; that it may give a -meaning to the earth, a human meaning...." - -Whilst he completed the composition of this hymn on the Genoese -coast, Richard Wagner died in Venice. Nietzsche learnt the news -with a grave emotion, and recognised a sort of providential accord -in the coincidence of events. The poet of _Siegfried_ was dead; so -be it! humanity would not be for a moment deprived of poetry, since -Zarathustra had already spoken. - -For more than six years he had given no sign of life to Cosima Wagner; -now he had to tell her that he had forgotten nothing of past days and -that he shared her sorrows. "You will approve of me in this, I am sure" -he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug.[7] - - * * * * * - -On the 14th of February he wrote to Schmeitzner, the publisher: - -"To-day I have some news for you: I have just taken a decisive step--I -mean, one profitable to you. It concerns a little work, scarcely -100 pages long, entitled: _Thus Spake Zarathustra,_ a book for all -and none. It is a poem or it is a Fifth Gospel, or something which -has no name; by far the most serious, and also the most happy, of my -productions and one that is open to all." - -He wrote to Peter Gast and to Fräulein von Meysenbug: "This year," said -he, "no society. I shall go straight from Genoa to Sils!" Thus did -Zarathustra, who left the great city and returned to the mountains. But -Friedrich Nietzsche is not Zarathustra; he is feeble, solitude exalts -and frightens him. Some weeks passed. Schmeitzner, the publisher, -was slow: Nietzsche grew impatient and modified his projects for the -summer; he wished to hear the sound of human speech. His sister, at -Rome with Fräulein von Meysenbug, guessed that he was accessible and -weary, and seized this opportunity of a reconciliation. He did not -defend himself and promised to come. - -Here he was at Rome. His old friend immediately introduced him into a -brilliant society. Lenbach was there, and also that Countess Dönhoff, -to-day Princess von Buelow, an amiable woman and a great musician. -Friedrich Nietzsche felt with vexation how different he was from these -happy talkers, how he belonged to another world, how they misunderstood -him. A curious, a singular man, they think; a very eccentric man. A -great mind? No one ventured to pass this rash judgment. And Friedrich -Nietzsche, so proud when he was alone, was astonished, disturbed, and -humiliated. It seemed that he had not the strength to despise these -people who did not hearken to him; he was disquieted and began to fear -for his well-beloved son, Zarathustra. - -"They will run through my book," he wrote to Gast, "and it will be a -subject of conversation. That inspires me with disgust. Who is serious -enough to hear me? If I had the authority of old Wagner, my affairs -would be in a better way. But at present _no one_ can save me from -being delivered over to 'literary people.' To the devil!" - -Other vexations affected him: he had taken to chloral, during the -winter, in order to combat his insomnia. He deprived himself of it and -recovered, not without difficulty, his normal sleep. Schmeitzner, the -publisher, did not hurry to print _Thus Spake Zarathustra;_ what was -the cause of the delay? Nietzsche enquired and was told: Five hundred -thousand copies of a collection of hymns had first to be printed for -the Sunday-schools. Nietzsche waited some weeks, received nothing, -asked again; another story: the collection of hymns was published, but -a big lot of anti-Semitic pamphlets had to be printed and thrown upon -the world. June came: _Zarathustra_ had not yet appeared. Friedrich -Nietzsche lost his temper and suffered for his hero, who was thwarted -by the two platitudes, Pietism and anti-Semitism. - -He was discouraged and ceased to write; he left his luggage at the -station with the books and manuscripts which he had brought: one -hundred and four kilos of paper. Everything in Rome harassed him: the -nasty people, a mob of illegitimates; the priests, whom he could not -tolerate; the churches, "caverns with unsavoury odours." His hatred -of Catholicism is instinctive and has far-off origins; always when he -approaches it, he shudders. It is not the philosopher who judges and -reproves; it is the son of the pastor, who has remained a Lutheran: who -cannot endure the other Church, full of incense and idols. - -The desire came to him to leave this town. He heard the beauty of -Aquila praised. Friedrich von Hohenstaufen, the Emperor of the -Arabs and the Jews, the enemy of the popes, resided there; Friedrich -Nietzsche wished to reside there, too. Still, the room which he -occupied was a fine and well-situated one, Piazza Barberini, at the -very top of a house. There one could forget the town: the murmur of -water falling from a triton's horn stilled the noise of humanity and -sheltered his melancholy. There it was that, one evening, he was to -improvise the most poignant expression of his despair and solitude: - -"I am light; alas if I were night! But this is my solitude, to be -always surrounded by light. - -"Alas that I am not shadow and gloom! How I would drink from the -breasts of light! - -"... But I live in my own light, I drink the flames which escape from -me!" - -_Thus Spake Zarathustra, a Book for All and None,_ at last appeared -during the first days of June. - -"I am very much on the move," wrote Nietzsche. "I am in agreeable -society, but as soon as I am alone I feel moved as I have never been." -He soon knew the fate of his book. His friends spoke to him very little -of it; the newspapers, the reviews, did not mention it; no one was -interested in this Zarathustra, the strange prophet who in a biblical -tone taught unbelief. "How bitter it is!" said Lisbeth Nietzsche and -Fräulein von Meysenbug; these two women, Christians at heart that they -were, took offence. "And I," wrote Nietzsche to Peter Gast, "I who find -my book so gentle!" - -The heat dispersed this Roman society. Friedrich Nietzsche knew -not where to go. He had hoped for such different days! He had been -persuaded that he would move lettered Europe, that he would at last -attract readers to himself, or (more precisely perhaps) that he would -attract, not towards his feeble self, but towards Zarathustra, who was -so strong, disciples or even servitors. "For this summer," he wrote in -May to Peter Gast, "I have a project: to choose, in some forest, some -castle formerly fitted up by the Benedictines for their meditations, -and to fill it with companions, chosen men ... I must go on a quest for -new friends." About the 20th June, thunderstruck by the loss of his -hopes, he went up towards his favourite retreat, the Engadine. - -Lisbeth Nietzsche, who was returning to Germany, accompanied him. Never -had she seen him more brilliant or more gay, she said, than during -these few hours of travel. He improvised epigrams, _bouts-rimes,_ the -words of which his sister suggested; he laughed like a child, and, in -fear of troublesome people who would have disturbed his delight, he -called and tipped the guard at every station. - - * * * * * - -Friedrich Nietzsche had not seen the Engadine since that summer of -1881 in which he had conceived the Eternal Return and the words -of Zarathustra. In the clutch of these memories and of the sudden -solitude, carried away by a prodigious movement of inspiration, he -wrote in ten days the second part of his work. - -It was bitter. Friedrich Nietzsche could no longer repress the -rancours, the menace of which he had felt last winter; he could -no longer unite force to sweetness; "I am not a hunter of flies," -Zarathustra used to say, and he disdained his adversaries. He had -spoken as a benefactor, and he had not been heard. Nietzsche put -into his mouth another speech: "Zarathustra the judge," he wrote in -his short notes; "the manifestation of justice in its most grandiose -form; of justice which fashions, which constructs, and which, as a -consequence, must annihilate." - -Zarathustra the judge has only insults and lamentations upon his lips. -He sings this nocturnal chant which Nietzsche, at Rome, had one evening -improvised for himself alone: - -"I am light; alas if I were night! But this is my solitude, to be -always surrounded by light." - -This is no longer the hero whom Friedrich Nietzsche had created so -superior to all humanity; it is a man in despair, it is Nietzsche, in -short, too weak to express anything beyond his anger and his plaints. - -"Verily, my friends, I walk among men as among the fragments and -members of man. - -"To see men broken and scattered as though they lay over a butcher's -shambles, this is to my eye the most frightful thing. - -"And when my eye fleeth from the present to the past, it ever findeth -the same: fragments, members, and frightful catastrophes--but no men! - -"The present and the past upon the earth--alas, my friends, these are -to _me_ the most unbearable things; and I could not live were I not a -visionary of what must come. - -"A visionary, a creator, the future itself and a bridge unto the -future--alas! in some sort also, a cripple upon this bridge: -Zarathustra is all this.... I walk among men, the fragments of the -future: of the future which I contemplate in my visions." - -Friedrich Nietzsche derided the moral commandments which had upheld -ancient humanity: he wished to abolish them and to establish his own. -Shall we know it at length, this new law? He delays in telling it to -us. "The qualities of the Superman become more and more visible," -he writes in his notes. He would wish that it were so; but can he, -absorbed as he is in discontent and bitterness, enunciate, define a -form of virtue, a new good, a new evil, as he had promised? He tries. -He is the prey of a bitter and violent mood, and the virtue which he -exalts is naked force undisguised, that savage ardour which moral -prescriptions have always wished to attenuate, vary, or overcome. He -yields to the attraction which it exercises upon him. - -"With delight I regard the miracles which the ardent sun brings to -birth, says Zarathustra. They are tigers, palm-trees, rattlesnakes.... -Verily, there is a future even for evil, and the hottest noon has not -yet been discovered for man.... One day there will come to the world -the greatest dragons.... Thy soul is so far from what is great that -thou wouldst find the Superman awful in his goodness." - -There is emphasis upon this page. The words are noisy rather than -strong. Perhaps Nietzsche disguises in this way an embarrassment of -thought: he does not insist upon this gospel of evil, and prefers -to adjourn the difficult moment in which his prophet will announce -his law. Zarathustra must first complete his duties as judge, the -annihilator of the weak. He must strike: with what weapon? Here -Nietzsche again takes up the idea of the Eternal Return which he -had withdrawn from his first section. He modifies the sense and the -application of it. It is no longer an exercise of spiritual life, -a process of internal edification; it is a hammer, as he says, an -instrument of moral terrorism, a symbol which disperses dreams. - -Zarathustra assembles his disciples and wishes to communicate to them -the doctrine, but his voice falters; he is silent. Suddenly he is moved -by pity, and the prophet himself suffers as he evokes the terrible -idea. He hesitates at the moment that he is about to destroy these -illusions of a better future, these expectations of another life and -of a spiritual beatitude which veil from men the misery of their state. -He grows anxious. A hunchback, who divines this, interpolates with a -sneer: "Why doth Zarathustra speak unto his disciples otherwise than -he speaketh unto himself?" Zarathustra feels his fault and seeks a new -solitude. The second part is thus completed. - -On the 24th June of this year, 1882, Nietzsche was installed at Sils; -before the 10th of July he wrote to his sister: - -"I beg you instantly to see Schmeitzner and engage him orally or by -writing, as you think best, to give the second part of _Zarathustra_ to -the printer as soon as the manuscript is delivered. This second part -exists to-day: try to imagine it, the vehemence of such a creation; -you will scarcely be able to exaggerate it. There is the danger. In -Heaven's name, arrange things with Schmeitzner; I am too irritable -myself." - -Schmeitzner promised and kept his word; in August the proofs arrived. -Nietzsche had not strength enough to correct them and left the work to -Peter Gast and his sister. The terrible things which he had said, the -more terrible things which he had yet to say, bruised him. - - * * * * * - -Other vexations were added to the melancholy of his thought. An awkward -step on his sister's part awoke again the dissensions of the previous -summer. In the spring, during their reconcilement, he had said to her, -aware of her quarrelsome nature: "Promise me never to go back on the -stories of Lou Salomé and of Paul Rée." For three months she had kept -her peace, then she broke her word and spoke. What did she say? We -do not know; we are again in the obscurity of this obscure history. -"Lisbeth," he wrote to Madame Overbeck, "absolutely wants to avenge -herself on the young Russian." No doubt she reported to him some fact, -some observation of which he was ignorant. A sickening irritation laid -hold of him. He wrote to Paul Rée, and this is the letter, a sketch of -which has been found. (Was it sent as we read it? It is not certain.) - -"Too late, almost a year too late, I learn of the part which you took -in the events of last summer, and my soul has never been so overwhelmed -with disgust as it is at present, to think that an insidious individual -of your kind, a liar and a knave, had been able to call himself my -friend for years. It is a crime, in my opinion, and not only a crime -against me, but above all against friendship, against this very empty -word, friendship. - -"Fie, sir! So you are the calumniator of my character, and Miss Salomé -has only been the mouthpiece, the very unsatisfactory mouthpiece, of -the judgment which you passed on me; so it is you who, in my absence, -naturally, spoke of me as though I were a vulgar and low egoist, always -ready to plunder others; so it is you who have accused me of having, -so far as concerned Miss Salomé, pursued the most filthy designs under -a mask of idealism; so it is you who dare to say of me that I was mad -and did not know what I wanted? Now, of a surety, I understand better -the whole of this business which has made men whom I venerated and many -whom I esteemed, as my nearest and dearest, strangers to me.... And I -thought you my friend; and nothing, perhaps, for seven years has done -more harm to my prospects than the trouble that I took to defend you. - -"It seems then that I am not very well advanced in the art of knowing -men. That furnishes you no doubt with matter for mockery. What a fool -you have made of me! Bravo! As regards men of your stamp, rather than -understand them, I had rather they mocked me. - -"I would have great pleasure in giving you a lesson in practical -morals with a pair of pistols; I would succeed perhaps, under the most -favourable circumstances, in interrupting once and for all your works -on morals: one needs clean hands for that, Dr. Paul Rée, not dirty -ones!" - -This letter cannot be considered sufficient to condemn Paul Rée. -Friedrich Nietzsche wrote it in a moment of anger upon information -given by his sister, who was often more impassioned than accurate. It -is a precious witness to his impression; to the ill-known data of the -cause, it is a mediocre witness. What was the conduct of Paul Rée? -What were the rights and wrongs? In April, 1883, six months after the -difficulties of Leipsic, he had offered Nietzsche the dedication of a -work on the origins of the moral conscience, a work altogether inspired -by Nietzschean ideas. Nietzsche had refused this public compliment: "I -no longer want," he wrote to Peter Gast, "to be confounded with any -one." A letter written by George Brandes in 1888 shows us Paul Rée -living in Berlin with Miss Salomé, as "brother and sister," according -to both their accounts. There is no doubt that Rée helped Miss Salomé, -towards 1883, to write her book on Friedrich Nietzsche: a very -intelligent and a very noble book. We incline to believe that between -these two men there was only the misfortune of a common love which the -same woman inspired in them. - -Friedrich Nietzsche wrote long and febrile letters. He complained of -being alone at forty years, betrayed by his friends. Franz Overbeck -grew anxious and went up to Sils-Maria to distract him from the -solitude which wounded and consumed him. His sister, a prudent lady, -and bourgeois in her tastes, advised him in answer to his complaints: -"You are alone, it is true," said she to him; "have you not sought -solitude? Get an appointment in some University: when you have a title -and pupils, you will be recognised and people will cease to ignore -your books." Nietzsche listened indulgently, but did listen, and wrote -to the Rector of Leipsic, who, without hesitation, dissuaded him from -making any overtures, no German University being in a position to allow -an atheist, a declared anti-Christian, among its teachers. "This reply -has given me courage!" wrote Nietzsche to Peter Gast; to his sister he -sent a strong letter whose thrusts she felt. - -"It is necessary that I be misunderstood, better still, I go to meet -calumny and contempt. My 'near ones' will be the first against me: last -summer I understood that, and I was magnificently conscious that I was -at last on my road. When it comes to me to think, 'I can no longer -endure solitude,' then I experience an unspeakable _humiliation before -myself_--I feel myself in revolt against what there is of highest in -me...." - -In September he directed his steps towards Naumburg, where it was his -intention to stay some weeks. His mother and sister inspired in him a -mixed feeling, which baffles analysis. He liked his own people because -they were his own, and because he was tender, faithful, infinitely -sensible to memories. But every one of his ideas, every one of his -desires, drew him from them, and his mind despised them. Nevertheless -the old house of Naumburg was the only place in the world where there -was, so long as he stayed there for a short time only, some sweetness -of life for him. - -Mother and daughter were quarrelling. Lisbeth loved a certain Förster, -an agitator, an idealogue of Germanist and anti-Semitic views, who was -organising a colonial enterprise in Paraguay. She wished to marry him -and to follow him; her despairing mother wished to retain her. Madame -Nietzsche welcomed her son as a saviour and related to him the mad -projects which Lisbeth was forming. He was overwhelmed; he knew the -person and his ideas, he despised the low and dull passions which the -propaganda excited, and suspected him of having spoken maliciously of -his work. That Lisbeth, the companion of his childhood, should follow -this man was more than he could allow. He called her, spoke violently -to her. She answered him bravely. There was little that was delicate -or subtle in this woman's composition, but she had energy. Friedrich -Nietzsche, so weak in the depth of his soul, valued in her the quality -which he lacked. He might sermonise, scold, but he could not get his -way. - - * * * * * - -The late autumn came, and Naumburg was covered with fogs. Nietzsche -left and went to Genoa. These quarrels had lessened his self-respect. - -"Things go badly with me, very badly," he wrote in October to Fräulein -von Meysenbug; "my visit in Germany is the cause. I can live only at -the seaside. Every other climate depresses me, destroys my nerves and -eyes, makes me melancholy, puts me into a black humour--that awful -tare; I have had to combat it in my life more than the hydras and other -celebrated monsters. In trivial ennui is hidden the most dangerous -enemy; great calamity adds to one's stature...." - -Towards mid-November he left Genoa, and, circling the western coast, -began the quest for a winter residence. He passed by San Remo, Mentone, -Monaco, and stopped at Nice, which enchanted him. There he found that -keen air and that plenitude of light, that multitude of bright days -which he needed: "Light, light, light," he wrote'; "I have regained my -equilibrium." - -The cosmopolitan city displeased him, and at first he rented a room -in a house of the old Italian city, not Nice, but Nizza, as he always -wrote. For neighbours he had quite simple people, workmen, masons, -employés, who all spoke Italian. It was in similar conditions that in -1881 he had enjoyed at Genoa a certain happiness. - -He chased away his vain thoughts and made an energetic effort to -complete _Zarathustra._ But then arose the greatest of his misfortunes: -the difficulty of his work was extreme, perhaps insurmountable. To -complete _Zarathustra_--what did that imply? The work was immense: -it had to be a poem which would make the poems of Wagner forgotten; -a gospel which should make the Gospel forgotten. From 1875 to 1881, -during six years, Friedrich Nietzsche had examined all the moral -systems and shown the illusion which is at their foundation; he had -defined his idea of the Universe: it was a blind mechanism, a wheel -which turned eternally and without object. Yet he wished to be a -prophet, an enunciator of virtues and of purposes: "I am he who -dictates the values for a thousand years," he said in those notes in -which his pride bursts forth. "To imprint his hand on the centuries, as -on soft wax, write on the will of millennia as upon brass, harder than -brass, more noble than brass, there," Zarathustra was to say, "is the -beatitude of the Creator." - -What laws, what tables, did Nietzsche wish to dictate? What values -would he choose to honour or depreciate? and what right had he to -choose, to build up an order of beauty, an order of virtue, in nature, -where a mechanical order reigns? He had the right of the poet, no -doubt, whose genius, the creator of illusions, imposes upon the -imagination of man this love or that hatred, this good or that evil. -Thus Nietzsche would answer us, but he did not fail to recognise the -difficulty. On the last pages of the second part of his poem he avowed -it. - -"This, this is my danger," says Zarathustra, "that my glance throweth -itself to the summit, whereas my hand would fain grasp and rest -upon--the void." - -He wished to bring his task to a head. He had felt, this very summer, -as something very close and urgent, the tragic menace that hung over -his life. He was in haste to complete a work which he could at last -present as the expression of his final desires, as his final thought. -He had intended to complete his poem in three parts; three were written -and almost nothing was said. The drama was not sketched. Zarathustra -had to be shown at close quarters with men, announcing the Eternal -Return, humiliating the feeble, strengthening the strong, destroying -the ancient ways of humanity; Zarathustra as lawgiver dictating his -Tables, dying at last of pity and of joy as he contemplates his work. -Let us follow his notes:-- - -"Zarathustra reaches at the same moment the most extreme distress and -his greatest happiness. At the most terrible moment of the contrast, he -is broken. - -"The most tragical history with a divine dénouement. - -"Zarathustra becomes gradually more grand. His doctrine develops with -his grandeur. - -"The Eternal Return shines like a sun setting on the last catastrophe." - -"In the last section great synthesis of him who creates, who loves, who -destroys." - -In the month of August, Nietzsche had indicated a dénouement. His -condition of mind was then very bad, and his work suffered in -consequence. He now took up the draft again, and tried to make the best -of it. - -It was a drama which he had the ambition to write. He places his -action in an antique frame, in a city devastated by the pest. The -inhabitants wish to commence a new era. They seek a lawgiver; they call -Zarathustra, who descends among them, followed by his disciples. - -"Go," said he to them, "announce the Eternal Return." - -The disciples are afraid and avow it. - -"We can endure thy doctrine," they say, "but can this multitude?" - -"We must make an experiment with truth!" answers Zarathustra. "And if -the truth should destroy humanity, so be it!" - -The disciples hesitate again. He commands: "I have put in your hands -the hammer which must strike men; strike!" - -But they fear the people and abandon their master. Then Zarathustra -speaks alone. The crowd as it hears him is terrified, loses its temper -and its wits. - -"A man kills himself: another goes mad. A divine pride of the poet -animates him: everything _must_ be brought to light. And at the moment -that he announces the Eternal Return and the Superman together, he -yields to pity. - -"Everyone disowns him. 'We must,' they say, 'stifle this doctrine and -kill Zarathustra.' - -"'There is now no soul on the earth who loves me,' he murmurs; 'how -shall I be able to love life?' - -"He dies of sadness on discovering the suffering which is his work. - -_"'Through love I have caused the greatest sorrow;_ now I yield to the -sorrow which I have caused.' - -"All go, and Zarathustra, left alone, touches his serpent with his -hand: 'Who counsels wisdom to me?'--The serpent bites him. The eagle -tears the serpent to bits, the lion throws itself upon the eagle. As -soon as Zarathustra sees the combat of the animals, he dies. - -"Fifth Act: The Lauds. - -"The league of the faithful who sacrifice themselves upon the tomb -of Zarathustra. They had fled: now, seeing him dead, they become the -inheritors of his soul and rise to his height. - -"Funeral ceremony: 'It is we who have killed him.'--The Lauds. - -"The great Noon. Midday and eternity." - -Friedrich Nietzsche abandoned this plan, which yet gives glimpses of -great beauty. Did he dislike displaying the humiliation of his hero? -Probably, and we shall note his search for a triumphant dénouement. -But it is chiefly to be noted that he has dashed against a fundamental -difficulty, the nature of which he perhaps does not plainly conceive: -the two symbols on which he bases his poem, the Eternal Return and the -Superman, in conjunction create a misunderstanding which renders the -completion of the work impossible. The Eternal Return is a bitter truth -which suppresses all hope. The Superman is a hope, an illusion. From -one to the other there is no passage, the contradiction is complete. -If Zarathustra teaches the Eternal Return, he will fail to excite in -men's souls an impassioned belief in superhumanity. And if he teaches -the Superman, how can he propagate the moral terrorism of the Eternal -Return? Nevertheless, Friedrich Nietzsche assigns him these two tasks; -the breathless disorder of his thoughts drives him to this absurdity. - -Does he clearly perceive the problem? We do not know. These real -difficulties against which he breaks are never avowed. But if he -perceives them ill, at least he feels the inconvenience and seeks by -instinct some way of escape. - -He writes a second sketch which is certainly skilful: the same scene, -the same fever-stricken city, the same supplication to Zarathustra, -who comes among a decimated people. But he comes as a benefactor and -is careful about announcing the terrible doctrine. First, he gives -his laws and has them accepted. Then, and only then, will he announce -the Eternal Return. What are these laws which he has given? Friedrich -Nietzsche indicates them. Here is one of the very rare pages, in which -we discern the order which he has dreamed. - -"_(a)_ The day divided afresh: physical exercises for all the ages of -life. Competition as a principle. - - . . . . . . - -"_(b)_ The new nobility and its education. Unity. Obtained by -selection. For the foundation of each family, a festival. - -"_(c)_ The _experiments._ (With the _wicked, punishments._) Charity -in a new form, based on a concern for the generations to come. The -wicked respectable so far as they are destroyers, for destruction is -necessary. And also as a source of strength. - -"To let oneself be taught by the wicked, not to deny them competition. -To utilise the degenerate.--Punishment justifiable when the criminal is -utilised for experimental purposes (for a new aliment). Punishment is -thus made holy. - -"_(d)_ To save woman by keeping her woman. - -"_(e)_ The _slaves_ (a hive). The humble and their virtues. To teach -the enduring of repose. Multiplication of machines. Transformation of -the machines into beauty. - -"'For you faith and servitude!' - -"The times of _solitude._ Division of the times and days. Food. -Simplicity. A feature of union between the poor and the rich. - -"Solitude necessary from time to time, that the being may examine -himself and concentrate. - - . . . . . . - -"The _ordinance of festivals,_ founded on a system of the Universe: -festival of cosmic relations, festival of the earth, festival of -friendship, of the great Noon." - -Zarathustra explains his laws, he makes them loved by all; he repeats -his sermons nine times, and finally announces the Eternal Return. He -speaks to the people; his words have the accent of a prayer. - -_The great question:_ - -"The laws have already been given. Everything is ready for the -production of the Superman--grand and awful moment! Zarathustra reveals -his doctrine of the Eternal Return--which may now be endured; he -himself, for the first time, endures it. - -"_Decisive moment:_ Zarathustra interrogates all this multitude -assembled for the festival. - -"'Do you wish,' he says, 'the return of it all?' All reply: Yes! - -"He dies of joy. - -"Zarathustra dying holds the earth locked in his arms. And although no -one said a word, they all knew that Zarathustra was dead." - -It is a fine issue: Nietzsche was soon to find it too easy, too fine a -one. This Platonic aristocracy, rather quickly established, left him -in doubt. It corresponded exactly to his desires; did it correspond to -his thoughts? Nietzsche, ready in the destruction of all the ancient -moralities, did not find that he had the right of proposing another -so soon? _All answered: Yes!_ Was that conceivable? Human societies -would always draw after them an imperfect mass which would have to be -constrained by force or by laws. Friedrich Nietzsche knew it: "I am a -seer," he wrote in his notes; "but my conscience casts an inexorable -light upon my vision, and I am myself the doubter." He gave up this -last plan. Never was he to recount the active life and the death of -Zarathustra. - -No document admits us to the secret of his sadness. No letter, no -word presents us with the expression of it, We may, surely, take this -very silence as the avowal of his distress and humiliation. Friedrich -Nietzsche had always wished to write a classical work, a history, -system, or poem, worthy of the old Greeks whom he had chosen for -masters. And never had he been able to give a form to this ambition. - -At the end of this year 1883 he had made an all but despairing attempt; -the abundance, the importance of his notes let us measure the vastness -of a work which was entirely vain. He could neither found his moral -ideal nor compose his tragic poem; at the same moment he fails in his -two works and sees his dream vanish. What is he? An unhappy soul, -capable of short efforts, of lyrical songs and cries. - -The year 1884 opened sadly. Some chance fine weather in January -reanimated him. Suddenly he improvised: no city, no people, no laws; a -disorder of complaints, appeals, and moral fragments which seem to be -the debris left over from the ruin of his great work. It is the third -part of Zarathustra. The prophet, like Friedrich Nietzsche, lives alone -and retired upon his mountain. He speaks to himself, deceives himself, -forgets that he is alone; he threatens, he exhorts a humanity which -neither fears nor hearkens to him. He preaches to it the contempt -of customary virtues, the cult of courage, love of strength and of -the nascent generations. But he does not go down to it, and no one -hears his predication. He is sad, he desires to die. Then, Life, who -surprises his desire, comes to him and raises his courage. - -"O Zarathustra!" says the goddess, "do not crack thy whip so terribly. -Thou knowest, noise murdereth thought. And even now I have very tender -thoughts. Hear me, thou art not faithful enough unto me, thou lovest me -not nearly as much as thou sayst, I know, for thou thinkest of leaving -me...." - -Zarathustra listens to the reproach, smiles and hesitates. "True," he -says at last, "but thou also knowest. ..." They gaze at each other, -and he tells her something in her ear, among all her confused, stupid -yellow tresses. "What though I die?" he says; "nothing can separate, -nothing can reconcile, for every moment has its return, every moment is -eternal." - -"What," answers the goddess, "that thou knowest, Zarathustra? That no -one knoweth." - -Their eyes meet. They look at the green meadow over which the cool of -evening was spreading; they weep, then, in silence, they listen, they -understand the eleven sayings of the old bell which strikes midnight in -the mountain. - -_One!_ Oh man! Lose not sight! - -_Two!_ What saith the deep midnight? - -_Three!_ I lay in sleep, in sleep; - -_Four!_ From deep dream, I woke to light. - -_Five!_ The world is deep, - -_Six!_ And deeper than ever day thought it might. - -_Seven!_ Deep is its woe-- - -_Eight!_ And deeper than woe--delight. - -_Nine!_ Saith woe: Pass, go! - -_Ten!_ Eternity's sought by all delight--_Eleven!_ Eternity deep by -all delight.[8] - -_Twelve!_ - - . . . . . . - -Then Zarathustra rises: he has recovered his security, his sweetness, -and his strength. He takes up his staff and sings as he goes down -towards men. A similar versicle completes the seven strophes of his -hymn: - - - "Never yet have I found the woman by whom I would like to - have children, if it be not the woman whom I love: for I - love thee, oh Eternity! - - "For I love thee, oh Eternity!" - - -At the opening of the poem Zarathustra entered the great town--the -Multi-coloured Cow he names it--and began his apostolate. At the end of -the third part Zarathustra descends to the great town to recommence his -apostolate there. Friedrich Nietzsche, a vanquished warrior, after two -years of labour, has quailed. In 1872 he sent to Fräulein von Meysenbug -the interrupted series of his lectures on the future of Universities: -"It gives one a terrible thirst," he said to her, "and, in the long -run, nothing to drink." The same words apply to his poem. - - -[6] Albergo la Poata (information given by M Lanzky). - -[7] An unpublished letter, communicated by M. Romain Rolland. - -[8] Translation published by T. Fisher Unwin. - - - -III - - -_Heinrich von Stein_ - -In April, 1884, the third and fourth sections (of _Zarathustra)_ were -published simultaneously. For the moment Nietzsche seems to have been -happy. - -"Everything comes in its own good time," he wrote to Peter Gast on -March 5th. "I am forty and I find myself at the very point I proposed, -when twenty, to reach at this age. It has been a fine, a long, and a -formidable passage." - -"To you," he wrote to Rohde, "who are _homo litteratus,_ I need not -hesitate to avow that in my opinion I have with this _Zarathustra_ -brought the German language to its pitch of perfection. After Luther -and Goethe a third step remained to be taken--and consider, my old and -dear comrade, were ever strength, subtlety, and beauty of sound so -linked in our language? My style is a dance; I trifle with symmetries -of all sorts, and I play on these symmetries even in my selection of -vowels." - -This joy lasted only for a little while. Without fresh work to hand -Nietzsche's ardour had no purpose and turned to ennui. Should he -arrange his system methodically, draw up a "philosophy of the future"? -He considers this, but finds that he is weary of thought and of -writing. What he needs is rest and the refreshment of music; but the -music which he could love does not exist. Italian music is flabby, -German music preachy, and his taste is for the live and the lyrical; -for something grave and delicate; something rhythmical, scornful, and -passionate. _Carmen_ pleases him well enough, and yet to _Carmen_ he -prefers the compositions of his disciple, Peter Gast. "I need your -music," he wrote to Gast. - -Peter Gast was at this time in Venice, where Nietzsche wished to join -him. But Venice was damp, and he dared not leave Nice before mid-April. -Clearly an invalid's exigencies are becoming each year more and more -urgent. A gloomy day lowers his spirits, a week without the sun -prostrates him. - -On the 26th of April he arrived in Venice. Peter Gast found rooms for -him not far from the Rialto, with windows that opened on the Grand -Canal. He had not been in Venice for four years, and it was with a -child's pleasure that he remade the acquaintance of the loved city. He -stayed in the labyrinth of Venice; Venice--whose spirit is compounded -of the magic of sun and water, the gracefulness of a gay and tactful -people, and glimpses of unexpected gardens with flowers and mosses -springing among the stones. "One hundred profound solitudes," he notes, -"compose Venice--hence her magic. A symbol for the men of the future." -For four or five hours every day he walked the little streets as he had -walked the hills, sometimes isolating himself, sometimes moving with -the Italian crowd. - -He was endlessly reflecting upon the difficulties of his task. What -should he write next? He had thought of annotating some verses of -his poem by means of a series of pamphlets, but then no one had read -the words of Zarathustra. Those friends to whom they had been sent -preserved a melancholy silence which constantly astonished him. A young -author, Heinrich von Stein, was almost alone in sending him a word of -warm congratulation. Nietzsche therefore gave up the idea, feeling that -it would be ridiculous to comment upon a Bible which the public ignored. - -Very seriously he considered a "philosophy of the future." His -intention was to give up, or at least to defer, further work on his -poem; he would confine himself to long study--"five, six years of -meditation and of silence, maybe"--and formulate his system in a -precise and definite manner. Various projects were in his mind when, -towards the middle of June, he left Venice for Switzerland. He wished -first to read certain books on historical and natural science in the -libraries of Basle, but his stay in that town was brief, for he found -the heavy heat oppressive and his friends there failed to please him. -Either they had not read _Thus Spake Zarathustra_ or they had read it -very badly. "I might have been among cows," he wrote to Peter Gast, -and returned to the Engadine. - - * * * * * - -On the 20th of August Heinrich von Stein wrote that he was coming. - -Stein was at this time a very young man, scarcely twenty-six years -of age. But there was no German writer of whom greater things were -expected than of him. In 1878 he had published a little volume called -_The Ideals of Materialism, Lyrical Philosophy._ Friedrich Nietzsche -made the acquaintance of the author, in whose essay he recognised a -research analogous to his own. He thought that he had found a kindred -spirit, a comrade in his task; but this hope deceived him. Fräulein -von Meysenbug had prided herself on bringing Heinrich von Stein under -Wagner's influence. It was her defect to be always more benevolent than -far-sighted. Thanks to her good offices, Wagner's house was opened to -Stein as it had been opened ten years earlier to Nietzsche, and there -Stein lived in spite of Nietzsche's warning, "You admire Wagner, and it -is right that you should do so--provided your admiration does not last -long." Wagner talked, and Stein, who could neither free himself from -the master's influence nor oppose it, listened. His intellectual quest, -which had hitherto been unquiet but fruitful, now came to an end. He -closed his notebooks; he was conquered by a man too great for him, -sucked in and sucked dry. - -The works which he published--he died at thirty--are temperate and -acute, but they lack one quality, precisely that which gives a high -value to his first essays--audacity, daring, the charm of a nascent -thought, ill-expressed but intense. - -Nietzsche continued to interest himself in Stein, and superintended the -young man's work and his friendships. "Heinrich von Stein," he wrote -in July to Madame Overbeck, "is at present the adorer of Miss Salomé. -My successor in that employment as in much else." The danger that Stein -ran caused him a great deal of uneasiness. Stein, however, read and -appreciated his books, as Nietzsche rejoiced to know. - -He was strangely moved on receiving the letter, for Stein had seemed -to understand _Thus Spake Zarathustra,_ and it might be that a longing -for liberty was the explanation of his visit. Stein would make up to -him for all the friends that he had lost; and what a revenge, moreover, -if he should conquer this disciple of Wagner's, this philosopher -from Bayreuth! He hastily sent a welcome, signed "The Solitary of -Sils-Maria." - -There is a possible interpretation of Stein's movements which never -occurred to Nietzsche. - -It must be remembered that Stein was the intimate and faithful friend -of Cosima Wagner; and certainly he did not now come to Nietzsche -without first consulting this shrewd woman and receiving her -approbation. Moreover, Nietzsche himself had not yet attacked, but had -merely withdrawn from Wagner. In July, 1882, he had seemed favourable -to a reconciliation. Fräulein von Meysenbug's endeavours, whether he -had authorised them or no, caused him to consider the possibility; and -in February, 1883, after Wagner's death, he wrote to Cosima Wagner. He -had so far been able to avoid saying anything irreparable, and all his -later work, even the very end of _Zarathustra,_ with its very vague -lyricism, did not close the door on the hope of an understanding. This -was Stein's own impression, and he wrote to Nietzsche: - -"How I long for you to come this summer to Bayreuth and hear -_Parsifal._ When I think of that work I imagine a poem of pure beauty, -a spiritual adventure that is purely human, the development of a youth -who becomes a man. I can find in _Parsifal_ no pseudo-Christianity of -any sort and fewer tendencies than in any other of Wagner's works. If -I write to you--in a spirit at once audacious and timid--it is not -because I am a Wagnerian, but because I wish for _Parsifal_ such a -hearer as you, and for such a hearer as you I wish _Parsifal._" - -Cosima Wagner's judgments were sound, and she knew Nietzsche's worth. -She now carried the heavy burden of Wagner's fame; she had a tradition -to prolong, a heritage to maintain. By recalling Nietzsche to her side -she would aid an extraordinary man, a rare soul that was wasting itself -in solitary effort, and she would aid herself at the same time--or so -she may have thought. One does not like to say in so many words that -she chose Heinrich von Stein as emissary and conciliator. But one may -be certain that she knew of, and did not disapprove, the young man's -attempt. - -If there was such a thing as a Wagnerian equal to the enterprise, it -was Heinrich von Stein. He was the most open-minded of the disciples. -For him that mysticism of doubtful quality which _Parsifal_ propagated -was not the last word in religion. He included Schiller, Goethe, and -Wagner in one tradition as the creators of myths and the educators -of their age and race. For him the theatre of Bayreuth was not an -apotheosis, but a promise, an instrument for the future, the symbol of -a lyrical tradition. - -Stein was anxious to acquit himself well of his mission, but he spoke -little. It was Nietzsche himself, the man, to whom he appealed, who -spoke, and who saw that he was heard. We may perhaps picture the -interview and Nietzsche's words: - -"You admire Wagner? Who does not? As well as you and better than -you have I known, revered, and hearkened to him. I learnt from him -not the style of his art, but the style of his life--his valour and -enterprise. I am aware that I have been accused of ingratitude, which -is a word I ill understand. I have continued my work. In the best sense -of the word, I am his disciple. You frequent Bayreuth, which is very -agreeable for you, too agreeable. Wagner offers you for your delight -all the legends, all the beliefs of the past--German, Celtic, pagan, -and Christian. You should leave him for the same reason that I left -him, because this delight is destructive to the spirit which seeks -truth. Mark you, I say no word against art or religion. I believe that -their day will be again. Not one of the old values will be abandoned. -They will re-appear, transfigured no doubt, and more powerful and more -intense, in a world thoroughly illuminated to its depths by science. -We shall rediscover all the things that we loved in our childhood and -in our adolescence, all that has upheld and exalted our fathers--a -poetry, a goodness, the most sublime virtues, the humblest, too, each -in its glory and its dignity. But we must accept the darkness, we must -renounce and search. ... The possibilities are unheard of, but alone I -am weak. Help me, therefore; stay or come back here, six thousand feet -above Bayreuth!"[9] - -Stein listened. His diary reveals the growing vividness of his -impressions: - -"24 viii. '84. Sils-Maria. Evening with Nietzsche. - -"27. His freedom of intellect, the imagery of his speech, a great -impression. Snow and winter winds. Headaches. At night I watch him -suffer. - -"29. He has not slept, but has all the ardour of a young man. A sunny -and magnificent day!" - -After three days, the too-youthful emissary left, greatly moved by what -had passed, and promising to rejoin Nietzsche at Nice, as the latter, -at least, understood. Nietzsche felt that he had greatly carried the -day. "Such an encounter as ours must have an early and far-reaching -importance," he wrote to Stein a few days after his departure. "Believe -me, you now belong to that little band whose fate, for good or ill, is -linked to mine." Stein answered that the days at Sils-Maria were to him -a great memory, a grave and solemn moment of his life; and then, rather -prudently, went on to speak of the binding conditions imposed on him -by his works and his profession. What he did _not_ say was, "Yes, I am -yours." - -Was Nietzsche's mind open enough to perceive the reservation? One -cannot tell. He was making marvellous plans, and dreamt anew of an -"ideal cloister." To Fräulein von Meysenbug he made the naïve proposal -that she should come to Nice and spend the winter near him. - - * * * * * - -Chance permits us to discover the depths of his soul. He had gone down -to Basle in September, and there Overbeck visited him at his hotel, and -found him in bed, suffering from a sick headache, very low in himself, -and at the same time exceedingly talkative. His excited speech troubled -Overbeck, who was initiated into the mystery of the "Eternal Return." -"One day we shall be here together again in this very place; I again, -as I now am, sick; you again, as now you are, amazed at my words." He -spoke in a low and trembling voice, and his face was troubled--this is -the Nietzsche that Lou Salomé has described. Overbeck listened gently, -but avoided argument of any sort, and left with evil forebodings. Not -until the tragic meeting in Turin in January, 1889, was he again to see -his friend. - -Nietzsche merely passed through Basle. His sister, whom he had not -seen since the quarrel of the previous autumn, gave him a rendezvous -at Zürich. It was to announce her marriage, which had taken place in -secret some months before. She was now no longer Fräulein Nietzsche -but Madame Förster, ready to leave for Paraguay with the colonists who -were under the charge of her husband. Recrimination would therefore -have been a waste of time. The step had been taken; Nietzsche did not -discuss it, and did his best to be pleasant once again to the sister -who was lost to him. "My brother," wrote Madame Förster, "seems to be -in a very satisfactory condition. He is bright and charming; we have -been together for six weeks, talking, laughing over everything." - -She has left us a record of these days which she supposes--or -pretends to suppose--were happy. Nietzsche came upon the works of one -Freiligrath, a mediocre and popular poet. On the cover of the volume -was inscribed _Thirty--eighth Edition._ With comical solemnity he -exclaimed, "Here, then, we have at last a true German poet. The Germans -buy his verse!" He decided to be a good German for the day, and bought -a copy. He read and was hugely diverted-- - - - "Wüstenkönig ist der Löwe; - Will er sein Gebiet durchfliegen." - - (King of deserts is the Hon: - Will he traverse his dominion.) - - -He declaimed the pompous hemistiches. The Zürich hotel resounded with -his childish laughter as he amused himself improvising verses on every -subject in the manner of a Freiligrath. - -"Hullo!" said an old general to the brother and sister. "What is -amusing you two? It makes one jealous to hear you. One wants to laugh -like you." - -It is unlikely that Nietzsche had much cause for laughter. One wonders -whether he could contemplate those thirty-eight editions of Freiligrath -without bitterness. During his stay in Zürich he went to the library to -look through the files of the newspapers and reviews for his name. It -would have meant a good deal to him to have read a capable criticism of -his work, to have seen his thought reflected in another's; but no voice -ever answered his labours. - -"The sky is beautiful, worthy of Nice, and this has lasted for days," -he wrote to Peter Gast on September 30th. "My sister is with me, and it -is very agreeable for us to be doing each other good when for so long -we had been doing harm only. My head is full of the most extravagant -lyrics that ever haunted a poet's skull. I have had a letter from -Stein. This year has brought me many good things, and one of the most -precious of its gifts has been Stein, a new and a sincere friend. - -"In short, let us be full of hope; or we may better express it by -saying with old Keller-- - - - "'Trinkt, O Augen, was die Wimper hält - Von dem goldnen Ueberfluss der Welt! '" - - -Brother and sister left Zürich, the one bound for Naumburg, the other -for Nice. On the way Nietzsche stopped at Mentone. Hardly had he -settled down there than he wrote: "This is a magnificent place. I have -already discovered eight walks. I hope that no one will join me. I need -absolute quiet." - -It is possible that the project which he had formed at the beginning of -the summer, when he spoke of six years of meditation and of silence, -was again in his mind. But he lacked the force of will which long and -silent meditation demands. He was, however, deeply moved by the hope of -a friend and by the loss of a sister, and his lyric impatience broke -the bonds. Yielding to instinct he composed poems off-hand--songs, -short stanzas, epigrams. Practically all the poems which are to -be found in his later works--the light verse, the biting distich, -inserted in the second edition of the _Gaya Scienza,_ the grandiose -Dionysian chants--were finished or conceived during these few weeks. -And once more he began to think of the still incomplete _Thus Spake -Zarathustra._ "A fourth, a fifth, a sixth part are inevitable," he -writes. "Whatever happens I must bring my son Zarathustra to his noble -end. Alive, he leaves me no peace." - -At the end of October Nietzsche left Mentone. The sight of so many -invalids disturbed him, and he set out for Nice. - - * * * * * - -There an unexpected companion, Paul Lanzky by name, soon joined -him. Lanzky was an "intellectual," by birth a German and by taste a -Florentine, who lived a wandering life. Chance had put the works of -Nietzsche into his hands; and he had understood them. Applying to -Schmeitzner, the publisher, for the author's address, he was told--" -Herr Friedrich Nietzsche lives a very lonely life in Italy. Write -to Poste Restante, Genoa." The philosopher replied promptly and -graciously, "Come to Nice this winter and we will talk!" So Nietzsche -was not so unsociable and solitary after all! This correspondence took -place during the autumn of 1883, but Lanzky was not free at the moment, -and begged to be excused. In October, 1884, he reached the rendezvous. -Meanwhile he had had the opportunity of acquainting himself with the -two last sections of _Zarathustra,_ and had published very intelligent -summaries of them in a Leipsic magazine and in the _Rivista Europea_ of -Florence. - -On the very morning of his arrival in Nice there was a knock at his -door. A gentle-looking man entered the room and came towards him -smiling. "Also Sie sind gekommen!" said Nietzsche. "So here you are!" -He took him by the arm, and examined curiously this student of his -works. "Let's see what you are made of!" - -Nietzsche's eyes were fixed upon him; those eyes which had once been -beautiful, and were, at moments, still beautiful, clouded though they -now were by reason of prolonged suffering. Lanzky was astonished. He -had come to do honour to a redoubtable prophet, and here was the most -affable, the simplest, and, as it seemed to him, the most modest of -German professors. - -As the two men went out together, Lanzky avowed his surprise--" -Master," he began.... - -"You are the first to call me by that name," said Nietzsche with a -smile. But he let the word pass, for he knew that he was a master. - -"Master," continued Lanzky, "what a mistaken idea of you one gathers -from your books; tell me ..." - -"No, no, not to-day. You do not know Nice. I will do the honours, and -show you this sea, these mountains, these walks.... Another day we -shall talk, if you will." - -By the time they returned it was six o'clock in the evening, and Lanzky -had discovered how tireless a walker was his prophet. - -They organised their life in common. At six o'clock in the morning it -was Nietzsche's custom to make himself a cup of tea, which he took -alone; towards eight Lanzky would knock at his door and ask how he had -passed the night--Nietzsche often slept badly--and how he intended to -employ his morning. Usually Nietzsche began the day by skimming the -newspapers in a public reading hall; he then went to the shore, where -Lanzky either joined him or respected his desire for a solitary walk. -Both of them lunched in their pension. In the afternoon they walked -out together. At night, Nietzsche wrote or Lanzky read to him aloud, -often from some French book, such as the _Letters_ of the Abbé Galiani, -Stendhal's _Le Rouge et le Noir, La Chartreuse, L'Armance._ - -To live courteously, yet withhold from ordinary gaze the secret of -one's life, is a whole art in itself; and this art Nietzsche had -mastered. Indeed, as regards the scheme of manners that he had composed -for himself, this solitary of the table d'hôte was, deliberately, -hypocritical and almost cunning. More than once Lanzky was nonplussed. -One Sunday a young lady asked Nietzsche had he been to church. - -"To-day, no," he replied courteously. - -To Lanzky, who admired his prudence, he explained that every truth was -not good for everyone. "If I had troubled that girl's mind," he added, -"I should be horrified." - -Occasionally it amused him to announce his future greatness. He would -tell his neighbours during meals that in forty years' time he would be -illustrious throughout Europe. - -They would say: "Well, then lend us your books." - -He refused their requests most positively, and again explained to -Lanzky that his writings were not for the man in the street. - -"Master," asked Lanzky, "why do you print them?" - -It appears that no answer was given to this reasonable question. - -Nietzsche, however, dissembled even with Lanzky. The formation of a -society of friends, of an idealistic phalanstery similar to that in -which Emerson lived--this old dream of his he loved to repeat and -elaborate for him. - -He often led Lanzky to the peninsula of Saint-Jean. "Here," he would -say in Biblical phrase--"Here we shall pitch our tents." He went so far -as to select a group of little villas which seemed to be suitable for -his purpose. But the members were not yet decided upon, and the name of -Heinrich von Stein, the only friend, the only disciple whom he really -wanted, was never mentioned in Lanzky's presence. - -There was no news of Stein's coming, nor of his plans. To Nietzsche -he gave no sign. We may assume that he had gone to Sils-Maria to -conciliate, if possible, the two masters. But one of them had said that -he must choose between the two: perhaps he had been disturbed for a -moment. He returned, however, to his Germany, and there he saw Cosima -Wagner again. Nietzsche had required that he should choose, and he -remained faithful to Wagner. - -Nietzsche anticipated a new desertion. He was afraid, and, yielding to -a humble and mournful impulse, wrote, in the form of a poem, an appeal -which he addressed to the young man: - - - O midday of life! O solemn time! - O garden of summer! - Unquiet happiness I am there: listening, waiting! - Night and day, living in hope of the friend; - "Where are ye, friends? Come! It is time, it is time!"[10] - - -Heinrich von Stein felt it incumbent upon him to reply. He wrote: "To -an appeal such as yours there is but one suitable reply. It is that I -should come and give myself entirely to you, vowing, as to the noblest -of tasks, all my time to the understanding of the new Gospel which you -have to preach. But this is forbidden me. An idea, however, strikes me. -Every month I entertain two friends and read with them some article -from the Wagner-Lexicon. It is taken as text, and, on it, I speak to -them. These conversations are becoming more and more lofty and free. -Latterly we have found this definition of æsthetic emotion--a passage -to the impersonal through very fulness of personality. I think that our -meetings would please you. And how if Nietzsche should now and again -send us the text? Would you communicate with us in this way? Would you -not see in such a correspondence an introduction, a step towards your -idea of a cloister?" - -This letter was obviously the letter of an excellent pupil, and it -exasperated Nietzsche. Wagner was named, doubtless intentionally, and -the Wagnerian Encyclopedia, the sum of an absurd and puerile theology, -was indicated as the text of Stein's meditations. Here was the old -adversary again standing in the way, Wagner, the quack of thought, the -seducer of young men. Förster, who was taking his sister from him, was -a Wagnerian; and Heinrich von Stein, on Wagner's account, refused him -his devotion. It was a cruel liberty that he had won, alone and at the -cost of a struggle whose wounds he still bore. He wrote to his sister: - -"What a foolish letter Stein has written me in answer to such poetry! -I am painfully affected. Here I am ill again. I have recourse to the -old means [chloral], and I utterly hate all men, myself included, whom -I have known. I sleep well, but on waking I experience misanthropy and -rancour. And yet there can be few men living who are better disposed, -more benevolent than I!" - -Lanzky remarked Nietzsche's trouble of mind without suspecting the -cause. The crisis was very severe, but Nietzsche did not allow himself -to be crushed by it and laboured energetically. More often now than -heretofore he walked alone, and Lanzky would watch him trip as lightly -as a dancer across the Promenade des Anglais or over the mountain -paths. He would leap and gambol at times, and then suddenly interrupt -his capers to write down a few words with a pencil. What was the new -work on which he was busy? Lanzky had no idea. - -One morning in March he entered, as was his custom, the little room -which the philosopher occupied, to find him in bed notwithstanding the -advanced hour. He made anxious enquiries. - -"I am ill," said Nietzsche; "I have just had my confinement." - -"What's that you say?" asked Lanzky, much perturbed. - -"The fourth part of _Zarathustra_ is written." - - * * * * * - -This fourth section does not enable us to discover at length an advance -in the work, an attained precision of thought. It is merely a singular -fragment, an "interlude," as Nietzsche called it. It illustrates a -strange episode in the life of the hero, one which has disconcerted -many a reader. We may perhaps best understand it if we consider the -deception to which Nietzsche has just been subjected. - -The superior men go up to Zarathustra and surprise him in his -mountainous solitude: an old pope, an old historian, an old king, -unhappy beings who are suffering from their abasement and wish to ask -succour of a sage whose strength they feel. Was it not thus that Stein, -that distinguished young man, etiolated by Bayreuth, went to Nietzsche? - -Zarathustra admits these superior men to his presence, and keeping -in check his savage humour, makes them sit down in his cave, is sorry -for their disquietude, listens and talks to them. Was it not thus that -Nietzsche had received Stein? - -Zarathustra's soul is in its depths less hard than it should be, and -he allows himself to be seduced by the morbid charm and delicacy of -the superior men; he takes pity on them and, forgetting that their -misery is irremediable, yields to the pleasures of hope. He had looked -for friends, and, perhaps, with these "superior men" they have come at -last. Had not Nietzsche hoped for some help from Stein? - -Zarathustra leaves his friends for a moment, and ascends alone to the -mountain. He returns to his cave to find the "superior men," all of -them prostrate before a donkey. The aged pope is saying Mass before the -new idol. In this posture Stein, interpreting a Wagnerian bible with -two friends, had been surprised by Nietzsche. - -Zarathustra hunts his guests away, and calls for new workmen for a new -world. But will he ever find them? - -"My children, my pure-blooded race, my beautiful new race; what is it -that keeps my children upon their isles? - -"Is it not time, full time--I murmur it in thine ear, good spirit of -the tempests,--that they should return to their father? do they not -know that my hair grows gray and whitens in waiting? - -"Go, go, spirit of the tempests, indomitable and beneficent! Leave thy -gorges and thy mountains, precipitate thyself upon the seas and bless -my children before the night has come. - -"Bear them the benediction of my happiness, the benediction of that -crown of happy roses! Let these roses fall upon their isles, let -them remain fallen there, as a sign, which asks: 'Whence can such a -happiness come?' - - . . . . . . - -"Then they shall ask: 'Still lives he, our father Zarathustra? What, -can our father Zarathustra be still alive? Does our old father, -Zarathustra, still love his children?' - -"The wind breathes, the wind breathes, the moon shines bright--Oh my -far-off, far-off children, why are ye not here, with your father? The -wind breathes no cloud passes over the sky, the world sleeps. Oh, joy! -Oh, joy!" - -Nietzsche omitted this page from his work. Perhaps he felt ashamed of -so plain and so melancholy an avowal. - -The fourth part of _Zarathustra_ found no publisher. A few months -earlier Schmeitzner had informed Nietzsche that "the public would not -read his aphorisms." He now contented himself with stating that the -public had chosen to ignore _Zarathustra;_ and there the matter rested, -so far as he was concerned. - -Nietzsche then made certain overtures which only hurt his pride and had -no result; then he took a more dignified course and had the manuscript -printed at his own expense in an edition limited to forty copies. -To tell the truth, his friends were not so numerous. He found seven -consignees--none of whom were truly worthy. If we may guess, these were -the seven: his sister--whose loss he never ceased to deplore; Overbeck --a strict friend, an intelligent reader, but cautious and reserved; -Burckhardt, the Basle historian--who always replied to Nietzsche's -messages, but was too polite to be easily fathomed; Peter Gast--the -faithful disciple whom, no doubt, Nietzsche found too faithful and -obedient; Lanzky--his good companion of the wintertide; Rohde--who -scarcely disguised the ennui that these forced readings gave him. -These were the seven, we may presume, who received copies of the work, -and not all of them troubled to read this fourth and last section, -the interlude which ends, and yet does not complete, _Thus Spake -Zarathustra._ - - -[9] Phrase in a passage from _Ecce Homo._ - -[10] - - "Oh Lebens Mittag! Feierliche Zeit! - Oh Sommergarten! - Unruhig Glück im Stehn und Spahn und Warten! - Der Freunde harr' Ich, Tag und Nacht bereit; - Wo bleibt ihr, Freunde? Kommt! s'ist Zeit! s'ist Zeit!" - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -THE FINAL SOLITUDE - - -I - -_Beyond Good and Evil_ - -The lyrical work was abandoned. At moments Friedrich Nietzsche was -to regret and wish to resume it; but these were brief velleities. -"Henceforth," he wrote (this time the assurance is exact), "I shall -speak, and not Zarathustra." - -The work remained in an incomplete condition. Nietzsche knew it, and -the mass of thoughts which he had not expressed saddened him like a -remorse. He was about to attempt another test. It was without joy that -he returned to philosophy and strove to express in abstract terms what, -as poet, he had failed to utter. He opened new notebooks, he essayed -titles: _The Will to Power, a new interpretation of Nature ... The Will -to Power, an essay towards a new interpretation of the universe ..._. -These formulas, the first that he had found, were to stand. Nietzsche -resumed and developed here the Schopenhauerian datum. The foundation of -things, he thinks, is not a blind _will to live;_ to live is to expand, -it is to grow, to conquer: the foundation of things may be better -defined as a blind _will to power,_ and all the phenomena that arise in -the human soul may be interpreted as a function of this will. - -It was an immense work of prudent reflection which Nietzsche envisaged -with fear. How should one discern in the soul of men what is power and -what is, without doubt, weakness? Perhaps the anger of Alexander is -weakness, and the mystic's exaltation power. Nietzsche had hoped that -disciples, philosophers or physiologists, would have made the necessary -analyses for him. Heinrich von Stein's help would have been precious. -But, being alone, he had to assume every task. He grew sad. Denuded -of lyricism, thought had no attraction for him. What does he love? -Instinctive strength, finesse, grace, ordered and rhythmical sounds--he -loves Venice and dreams of the fine weather which will allow him to fly -from this Nice pension where the food and the company are so bad. On -the 30th of March he writes to Peter Gast: - -"DEAR FRIEND,--It seldom happens that I consider a removal with -pleasure. Bat on this occasion:--when I think that I shall soon be at -Venice, and near you, I grow animated, am ravished; it is like the hope -of cure after a long and terrible sickness. I have made this discovery: -Venice remains till to-day the only place which is always sweet and -good to me.... Sils-Maria as a place of passage suits me very well; but -not as a residence. Ah! if I could contrive to live there worthily as a -hermit or solitary! But--Sils-Maria becomes fashionable! - -"My dear friend and maestro, you and Venice are linked for me. Nothing -gives me more pleasure than your persistent taste for this town. How -much I have thought of you in these times! I was reading the memoirs -of old De Brossé (1739-40) on Venice and on the maestro who was then -admired there, Hasse (il detto Sassonne). Do not get angry, I haven't -the least intention of making disrespectful comparisons between you. - -"I have just written to Malvida: thanks to Peter Gast, our friends the -low comedians, the self-styled geniuses of music, gone hence very soon, -will cease to corrupt taste. 'Gone hence very soon'--is, perhaps, a -gross exaggeration. In a _democratic_ period few men discern beauty: -_pulchrum paucorum est hominum,_ I rejoice that for you I am one of -these 'few.' The profound and joyous men who please me, _avec des -ames mélancoliques et folles_[1] like my defunct friends Stendhal and -the Abbé Galiani, could not have stayed on the earth if they had not -loved some musician of joy (Galiani without Puccini, Stendhal without -Cimarosa and Mozart). - -"Ah, if you knew how alone I am in the world at present! and how I must -play a comedy to prevent myself from spitting, now and again, in some -one's face, out of satiety. Happily some of the courteous manners of my -son Zarathustra exist also in his rather crazed father. - -"But when I shall be with you, and in Venice, then, for a time, there -will be an end of 'courtesy' and 'comedy' and 'satiety' and of all the -malediction of Nice, won't there, my good friend? - -"Not to be forgotten: we shall eat _baïcoli_! - -"Cordially, - -"F. N." - -In April and May Nietzsche sojourned at Venice, and found the joy -for which he had hoped. He wandered through the little sheltered and -murmurous streets, he contemplated the beautiful town. He listened to -the music of his friend. The galleries of St. Mark's Square shaded -his walks and he compared them to those porticoes of Ephesus whither -Heraclitus went to forget the agitation of the Greeks and the sombre -menace of the Persian Empire. "How easily," he thinks, "one here -forgets the sombre Empire--our own; let us not defame our Europe; -she still offers us beautiful refuges! It is my finest workroom, -this Piazza San Marco...." This shortlived happiness awoke the -poetic impulse in him. He wished to chant the triumph and death of -Zarathustra, now for some hours drawn from oblivion. He wrote out a -sketch, but soon abandoned it; it was his last. - -June brought him back to the Engadine. The chances of hotel life -procured him a secretary; a certain Madame Röder, otherwise unknown, -offered to help him. He dictated and tried to grasp his problem more -closely. What was his end? To criticise that multitude of moral -judgments, prejudices and routines which fetter modern Europeans; to -appraise their vital value, that is to say, the quantity of energy -which they express, and thus to fix a hierarchy of virtues. He wished -finally to realise the _Umwerthung aller Werthe_ (he found this -formula), "the transvaluation of all values." "All," he writes; his -pride was not content with less. He then recognised, and succeeded in -defining, certain modes of virtue which the professional moralists -knew not how to observe: mastery over oneself, dissimulation of one's -intimate sentiments, politeness, gaiety, exactitude in obedience and -command, deference, exigence of respect, taste for responsibilities and -for dangers. Such were the usages, the tendencies, to-day depreciated, -of the old aristocratic life, the sources of a morality more virile -than our own. - -It is probable that he then undertook some serious enough readings. He -studied the _Biological Problems_ of Rolph, where he could find the -analysis of that vital growth which was the basis of his metaphysic. -Perhaps he then read again some book by Gobineau (he admired the man -and his works); one may hazard this conjecture. But what mattered his -readings? Nietzsche was forty-two years old. He had passed the age of -learning, he had gathered in all his ideas. Reading helped, nourished -his meditations, but never directed them. - -The difficulty of his work was great and insomnia overcame him. -Nevertheless he persevered, and denied himself the sad joy of a final -embrace of his sister Lisbeth, who was about to follow her husband to -South America. "You will live down there then," he wrote to her, "and I -here, in a solitude more unattainable than all the Paraguays. My mother -will have to live alone and we must all be courageous. I love you and I -weep.--FRIEDRICH." - -A week passed, and he had formed other projects. He was negotiating -with his publisher in regard to the repurchase of his books and their -republication. It was a pretext that he grasped for going to Germany. -"A business matter, which makes my presence of use, comes to the aid of -my desire," he wrote, and set out for Naumburg without delay. - -The meeting was a grave one: brother and sister conversed tenderly on -the eve of a separation which they knew to be definitive. Nietzsche -made no secret of the difficulties of his life. "Alone I confront a -tremendous problem," he said; "it is a forest in which I lose myself, a -virgin forest--_Wald und Urwald._ I need help. I need disciples, I need -a master. To obey would be sweet! If I had lost myself on a mountain, -I would obey the man who knew that mountain; sick, I would obey a -doctor; and if I should meet a man capable of enlightening me on moral -ideas, I would listen to him, I would follow him; but I find no one, -no disciples and fewer masters. "... I am alone." His sister repeated -the advice which she had constantly given: that Friedrich should return -to some University; young men had always listened to him, they would -listen to him, they would understand him. "Young men are so stupid!" -answered Nietzsche, "and professors still more stupid! Besides, all the -German Universities repel me; where could I teach?" "In Zürich," his -sister suggested. "There is only one town that I can tolerate, and it -is Venice." - -He went to Leipsic to negotiate with his publisher, who received -him without much attention; his books did not sell. He returned to -Naumburg, said a final farewell, and left. - -Where was he to find a refuge for the winter? On the last occasion -he had been irritated by the noisy swarms of Nice. He thinks of -Vallombrosa. Lanzky had recommended this beautiful forest in the -Tuscan Apennines, and was waiting for him at Florence. Before leaving -Germany, Nietzsche, passing through Munich, visited a former friend, -the Baron von Seydlitz, who introduced him to his wife and showed him -his Japanese collection. The wife was young and charming, the Japanese -things pleased Nietzsche; he discovered this art, he liked these -stamps, these little gay objects which conformed so little to the sad -modern taste, so very little to the sad taste of the Germans. Seydlitz -understood beautiful things, and knew how to live; Nietzsche envied him -a little. "Perhaps it is time, dear Lisbeth," he wrote to his sister, -"for you to find me a wife. Let us say, still young, pretty, gay; in -short, a courageous little being _à la Irène von Seydlitz_ (we almost -'thee and thou' each other)." - -He reached Tuscany. Lanzky received him, accompanied him, and brought -him to the observatory of Arcetri, on the heights of San Miniato, -where lived a man of a rare kind--a reader of his books. Leberecht -Tempel kept on his table, near his bizarre instruments, the works of -Herr Friedrich Nietzsche, many passages of which he knew by heart and -willingly recited. Leberecht Tempel was a singularly noble, sincere, -and disinterested nature. The two men talked for half an hour and, it -seems, understood each other. When Nietzsche left he was deeply moved. - -"I wish that this man had never known my books," said he to Lanzky. "He -is too sensible, too good. I shall harm him." - -For he knew the terrible consequences of his thoughts and feared for -those who read them suffering similar to his own. - -He did not stay in Tuscany: the harsh, cold air which descended from -the mountains upon Florence incommoded him. He was recaptured by -memories of Nice, the town with two hundred and twenty days of full -sunshine--it was from Nice that he wrote to his sister, on the 15th of -November, 1885: - -"Do not be astonished, dear sister, if your brother, who has some of -the blood of the mole and of Hamlet in his veins, writes to you not -from Vallombrosa, but from Nice. It has been very precious to me to -experiment almost simultaneously with the air of Leipsic, of Munich, -of Florence, of Genoa, and of Nice. You would never believe how much -Nice has triumphed in this group. I have put up, as last year, at the -Pension de Genève, Petite Rue Saint-Etienne. I find it recarpeted, -refurnished, repainted, become very comely. My neighbour at table is a -bishop, a Monsignor who speaks German. I think of you a great deal. Your - -"PRINCE EICHORN." - -"Here I am returned to Nice," he wrote in another letter, "that is -to say to reason." His pleasure is such that he observes with some -indulgence the cosmopolitan city, and is amused by it. "My window looks -out on the square of the Phœnicians," he wrote to Peter Gast. "What -a prodigious cosmopolitanism in this alliance of words! Don't you -laugh? And it's true, Phœnicians lived here. I hear sounding in the -air something of the conqueror and the Super-European, a voice which -gives me confidence and says to me: _Here thou art in thy place ..._. -How far one is from Germany here--'_Ausserdeutsch!_' I cannot say it -with force enough." - - * * * * * - -He returned to his habit of walking in the sun over the white roads -which overlook the waves. The memories of seven years linked his -thought with this sea, these strands, these mountains; his fantasy -awoke, he listened to it and followed it. Not an hour passed vainly; -each one was happy, and left, as the souvenir and witness of the -gladness which it brought, an epigram, a poem in prose, a maxim, some -_lied_ or song. - -He defamed the moderns; it was his pleasure, and, as he thought, his -duty as a philosopher, who, speaking for coming times, must contradict -his own period. In the sixteenth century a philosopher did well to -praise obedience and kindliness. In the nineteenth century, in our -Europe impaired by Parisian decadents and Wagnerian Germans, in this -feeble Europe which is ever seeking the co-operation of the masses, the -line of least effort and the least pain, a philosopher had to praise -other virtues. He had to affirm: "That man is great who knows how to -be the most solitary, the most hidden, the most distant; who knows how -to live beyond good and evil, the master of his virtues, powerful in -his will. Greatness is there. And he must urgently ask: Is greatness -possible to-day?"--_Ist Veredlung möglich?_ We never cease to hear this -question which he first put at twenty-six. - -He defamed the Germans; this was his other pleasure, a more intimate -and lively one. Germanised Europe had unlearned freedom. She -dissimulated her spites, her immodesties, her cunning. She needed to -recover the spirit of the old world, of those Frenchmen of former times -who lived in so fine a liberty, with so fine a clear-sightedness and -force. "We must _mediterraneanise_ music," wrote he, "and our taste, -our manners also." Across these pages of Nietzsche, it is easy to hear -the counsels of his "defunct friends," Stendhal and the Abbé Galiani. - -"Men of profound melancholy," he wrote, "betray themselves when they -are happy: they seize upon their happiness as though they would -strangle it and stifle it out of jealousy.... Alas, they know too well -that happiness flies before them!" December neared its end, and those -festivals, the memories of which moved his faithful heart, approached; -Nietzsche had seen his happiness in flight before him. The pleasure -of lively thoughts, of beautiful images, did not entirely satisfy -him. He was no longer amused by the crowd at Nice, the square of the -Phœnicians diverted him no more. What mattered to him the _Gai -Saber_ and its precepts--sunlight, wind and Provençal song? He was a -German, the son of a pastor, and it was with an oppressed heart that he -watched Christmas and Saint Sylvester's day approach--that venerated -time. - -He took a disgust for the poor pension in which he lodged: its -furniture was touched by too many hands, its sitting-room degraded -by being common property. Then the cold weather came. Being poor, he -could not get the warmth he needed; he froze, bitterly regretting the -stoves of Germany. Wretched places where he cannot ever be alone! To -the right, a child is clattering its scales; above, two amateurs are -practising on the trumpet and violin. Friedrich Nietzsche, yielding to -bitterness, wrote to his sister, who was spending a last Christmas at -Naumburg: - -"How stupid it is that I have no one here who might laugh with me! If I -were stronger, and if I were richer, I should set up in Japan, to know -a little gaiety. At Venice I am happy because there one can live in the -Japanese manner without too great difficulty. All the rest of Europe -is pessimist and mournful; Wagner's horrible perversion of music is a -particular case of the perversion, of the universal trouble. - -"Here is Christmas again, and it is sad to think that I must continue -to live, as I have done for seven years, like a man proscribed, like a -cynical contemner of men. No one bothers about my existence any more; -the Lama has 'better to do,' and in any case enough to _do...._ Isn't -it fine, my Christmas letter? Long live the Lama! - -"Your F. - -"Why do you not go to Japan? It is the most sensible life, and so gay." - -Eight days later he wrote a better letter; perhaps he had reproached -himself for his confession. - -"_Chérie,_ the weather is magnificent to-day, and your Fritz must -afresh put on a good face for you, though in these latter times he has -had nights and days that were most melancholy. By chance my Christmas -was a real festival day. At noon, I receive your kind presents; very -quickly I pass round my neck your watch-chain, and slide your pretty -little calendar into my waistcoat pocket. As to the 'money,' if there -was money in the letter (our mother wrote me that there was), it -escaped my fingers. Excuse your blind animal who undid his packet in -the road; something no doubt fell from it, as I opened your letters -very impatiently. Let us hope that a poor old woman, passing there, -found her 'little child Jesus' on the pavement. Then I go on foot to -my peninsula of Saint Jean, I walk a great round along the coast, and -finally install myself not far from the young soldiers who are playing -at skittles. Fresh-blown roses, geraniums in the hedges, everything -green, everything warm: nothing of the north! There, your Fritz drinks -three glasses of a sweet wine of the country, and perhaps gets a trifle -tipsy; at least he begins to talk to the waves, and, when they foam as -they break too strongly against the shore, he says to them, as one does -to fowl: 'Butsch! Butsch! Butsch!' Finally, I re-enter Nice and, in the -evening, dine at my pension in princely style in the glitter of a great -Christmas-tree. Would you believe it, I have found a baker _de luxe_ -who knows what 'Quackkuchen' is; he told me that the King of Würtemburg -had ordered some of it, similar to the kind I like, for his birthday. I -remembered this while I was writing _'in princely style.'_ ... In alter -liebe, - -"Your F. - -"N.B.--I have begun to sleep again (without narcotics)." - -In January, February, and March, 1886, his melancholy appeared to -be less acute. He gave a form to his work, to those notes which his -fantasy had dictated to him. For four years he had ceased to publish -his aphorisms, his short essays. The matter with which his notebooks -supplied him was immense. He proposed to extract a volume from it; his -whole task was to arrange and select. - -Had he forgotten the systematic work of which he had thought the -previous winter? No, for he always felt the heavy necessity and the -reproach of it. He wished to make peace with his own conscience in -regard to the delay: he needed a little pleasure, the amusement of a -lively book, before commencing the immense work. He found a title, -_Beyond Good and Evil;_ a sub-title, _Prelude to a Philosophy of the -Future._ Thus he announced the more important and always deferred work. -He deceived himself in connecting by an artificial tie his pleasure and -his duty. - - * * * * * - -Remember how joyously he used to announce the completion of the book; -how communicative he was and how confident! Confidence and joy are -gone. He knows that he will not be read. But his ill-fortune always -exceeds his expectation, and Nietzsche, once again, has not foreseen -the ordeal which he must endure: _Beyond Good and Evil_ finds no -publisher. He negotiates with a house in Leipsic which declines his -proposals. He writes to Berlin without better success. Everywhere his -book is refused. What is he to do with it? He thinks of cutting it up -into pamphlets which will perhaps reach the public more easily. He -writes an experimental preface. - -"These pamphlets," he is to say, "form a sequel to the 'Thoughts out of -Season' which I published some ten years ago in the hope of drawing to -me 'my fellows.' I was then young enough to go fishing for associates -with an impatient hope. To-day--after a hundred years: I measure the -time by my measure--I am not yet old enough to have lost all hope and -confidence." - -But he soon abandoned this idea too. "There is nothing else for me to -do," he wrote to his sister, "but to tie up my manuscript with a string -and put it in a drawer." - -In the spring he stayed at Venice, as his custom was, but did not -meet his friend, who was visiting the German towns in the vain hope -of "placing" his music. Peter Gast had composed an opera, _The Lion -of Venice,_ which was being rejected by one theatre after another. -Nietzsche wrote to comfort and encourage him. Like Nietzsche, Gast was -a German by birth, a Mediterranean in taste. The one lived at Nice, the -other at Venice; they had the same ambition, the same unhappy destiny. - -"Come back," he wrote to him, "come back to the solitude in which -we both know how to live, in which we alone know how to live! It is -Wagnerism which bars your road, and it's also that German grossness and -thickness which, since the 'Empire,' goes growing, growing. We must be -circumspect and march under arms, you and I, to prevent ourselves from -being forced to die of silence...." - - -Friedrich Nietzsche felt his solitude alleviated by this comradeship in -a difficult lot. Peter Gast's distress was similar to his own; he spoke -to him as to a brother. Peter Gast was poor: "Let us share my purse," -said Nietzsche; "let us share the little that I have." Peter Gast grew -discouraged and lost confidence in himself: Nietzsche knew this agony; -he knew the great necessity of confidence to the man who worked, and -how quickly the contempt of the public must overwhelm him. "Courage," -he wrote; "do not let yourself be cast down; be sure that I, at least, -believe in you; I need your music; without it I could not live." We -need not doubt that Nietzsche was sincere when he thus expressed -himself. All his power of love and admiration, which was immense, he -brought to bear upon this last companion who remained to him, and his -friendship transfigured the music of Peter Gast. - -He was unhappy, even at Venice; the light hurt the delicate nerves of -his eyes. As at Basle in former times, he was obliged to shut himself -up behind closed shutters, and deny himself the pleasure of the fine -Italian days. What refuge could he find? He recalled the vast German -forests, so shady and beneficent to his eyes, and he took to regretting -his country. Though she angered him, though he revolted against her, -he loved Germany; how could he help loving her? Without her divine -music, which had governed the impulses of his first desires, his soul -would have been other; without her tongue, that splendid and difficult -instrument, his thought would have been other. Schopenhauer and Wagner, -two Germans, were his real masters, and remained so (he secretly avowed -it); his true disciples, if ever they were to exist, would be born in -Germany, that cruel Fatherland which he could not abjure. - -Thence he received a piece of news which moved him: Rohde was appointed -professor in the University of Leipsic. Nietzsche was happy for his -friend, and congratulated him in exquisite terms. Nevertheless, he -could not prevent himself from sadly drawing a personal moral. "At -present," he wrote to Peter Gast, "the Faculty of Philosophy is half -composed of my 'good friends' (Zarncke, Heinze, Leskien, Windisch, -Rohde, &c.)." Suddenly he wished to depart; he wanted to see his -mother, whom her two children had left; he wished to attend his old -comrade's course; lastly, he wished to confront those famous publishers -who printed twenty thousand volumes a year, and refused his own. He -left Venice and went straight to Leipsic. - -He stepped up to Rohde's rooms; the time was badly chosen. He found -a busy and preoccupied man, who received this unexpected visitor, -this too singular personage who had failed in life, with vexation and -constraint. "I saw Nietzsche," Rohde wrote later in a few lines in -which he explained his cold welcome. "All his person was marked with an -indescribable strangeness, and it disquieted me. There was about him -something that I had never known, and of the Nietzsche whom I had known -many features were effaced. He seemed to have come from an uninhabited -land." Nietzsche said: "I would like to hear you speak." Rohde brought -him, and put him to sit among young men who were ignorant of his work -and of his very name. Nietzsche listened, then went away. "I have heard -Rohde at the University," he wrote to his sister briefly. "I can no -longer communicate with any one. Leipsic is, it is clear, no place of -refuge or of repose for me." - -He would have fled from Leipsic, as he had fled from Venice and Nice; -but the difficulty of his negotiations obliged him to remain there. -He applied to various publishers, and applied in vain. Finally, his -dignity revolted. He wished his book to appear, and, however heavy the -cost, he resolved to pay out of his own pocket the cost of the printing. - -His mother was waiting for him at Naumburg, where since Lisbeth's -departure she lived alone. Nietzsche felt a very lively pity for her; -he knew her to be desolated by the loss of her family, and in despair -over the impieties which he published in his books. "Don't read them, -ignore them," he told her ceaselessly: "it is not for you that I -write." Nevertheless, she could not repress her curiosity, and her -discontent was never appeased. Nietzsche did not wish to leave without -giving her a little happiness. He went to spend a week at home; but he -had not the strength to keep the secret of his vexations to himself; -he bewailed himself, he grew exalted; he saddened the poor woman, whom -finally he left in a more unhappy condition than ever. - -Passing through Munich, he called on the Baron and Baroness von -Seydlitz. He wished to snatch a brief repose under the roof of his -amiable host; but Seydlitz was away from home, and his house was shut -up. - -Nietzsche, having left this Germany which he was never again to see, -continued on his road towards the Upper Engadine, from which he -always expected some benefit. Here in July he found himself among icy -fogs, and felt the first symptoms of a long crisis of neuralgia and -melancholy. - - - -II - -_The Will to Power_ - -Shall we say that he met friends? Is the word suitable to those vague -figures, to those Russian, English, Jewish, and Swiss women who, -seeing this charming man return each season, did not refuse him their -quick sympathy? We set down their names: Mesdames Röder and Marasoff; -Miss Zimmern and Fräulein von Salis Marschlins (this last a friend of -Fräulein von Meysenbug); others, whose names remain unknown, may be -guessed. - -How did they judge him? Carefully he avoided any speech that might have -pained or surprised them. He kept his dangerous thoughts to himself. -So far as they were concerned, he wished to be, and knew how to be, an -amiable companion ... learned, refined, and reserved. Still, whatever -secret he made of his work, his friends did not fail to get an inkling -into the mystery of his reserve. One of them, an Englishwoman in -delicate health, whom he often went to visit and distract, broached the -subject. - -"I know, Herr Nietzsche, why you won't let us see your books. If one -were to believe what you say in them, a poor, suffering creature like -myself would have no right to live." - -Nietzsche was apologetic, and warded off the accusation as best he -could. - -Another, having said to him one day: "I have been told about your -books. You've written in one of them, '_If thou goest among women, do -not forget thy whip._'" - -"Dear lady, dear friend," answered Nietzsche, in a pained voice, taking -the hands of her who reproached him in his own; "do not misunderstand -me; it is not thus that I am to be understood." - -Did they admire him? To dare to admire an unrecognised author a very -sure judgment is needed; and no doubt they lacked in necessary daring. -They esteemed, they liked their hotel companion, and recognised his -singular genius in conversation; at the _table d'hôte_ they looked -to have the place near his: little enough it seems if one consider -his present fame; then it was a great deal to him. He recovered in -the Engadine, thanks to them, a little of the confidence which was -necessary to his soul and which he had been losing in Germany. During -the summer of 1886, some good musicians passed through Sils. In -Nietzsche they discovered a very rare listener, and they liked to be -heard by him. This courtesy touched him: "I notice," he wrote to Peter -Gast, "that our artists only sing and play for me. I should be greatly -spoilt if this continued." - -A certain Oriental story narrates the adventures of a masked sovereign -who travels in his provinces; he is not recognised but divined; an -instinct of respect awakes at his approach. In this mountain hotel, -does not Nietzsche appear as a masked, a half-divined sovereign? - -Nevertheless it was but a poor comfort. Could these women lighten a -distress which they could not measure? Nietzsche was traversing that -grave moment of life in which a man, however unwilling to be taught, -must learn at last what his fate with inexorable constancy gives and -refuses him; he had to tear his last hopes from his heart. "I have been -unspeakably sad in these latter days," he wrote to Peter Gast, "and -cares have deprived me of sleep." The information is brief. To his -sister he avows more; he addresses to her pages upon pages that are -terrible in their power and monotony. - -"Where are they, those old friends, with whom I formerly felt so -closely bound? We inhabit different worlds, we no longer speak the -same tongue! As a stranger, a proscribed man, I wander among them; -never a word, never a look now reaches me. I hold my peace--for none -understands my speech--ah, I can say it, they have never understood -me! ... It is terrible to be condemned to silence, when one has so -many things to say. Am I created for solitude, never to find any -one with whom I may make myself understood? Incommunicability is in -truth the most awful of solitudes, to be _different,_ to wear a mask -of brass harder than any mask of brass--perfect friendship is only -possible _inter pares. Inter pares!_ a phrase which intoxicates me: -what confidence, what hope, what perfume, what beatitude it promises -the man who necessarily and constantly lives alone; to a man who is -_different_--who has never met any one of his race. And nevertheless -he is a good seeker; he has sought much. Ah, the swift folly of those -hours in which the solitary thinks he has found a friend, embraces him -and holds him in his arms; it is a present from heaven, an inestimable -gift. An hour later he rejects him with disgust, he rejects himself -with disgust, as though soiled, diminished, sick from his own society. -A _profound_ man needs friends, unless indeed he has a God. And I have -neither God nor friend! Ah, my sister, those whom you call by this -name, once they were friends--but now? - -"Excuse this burst of passion; my last journey is the cause.... - -"My health is neither good nor bad; it is only the poor soul which is -wounded and thirsting. Give me a little circle of men who will listen -to me and understand--and I am in good health. - -"Here everything takes its course; the two English-women and the old -Russian lady, the musician, have come back; the latter very ill...." - -Nietzsche now went on with his labours on the _Wille zur Macht._ His -unfortunate passage through Germany had modified his arrangements. He -thought: "What use is it my writing warlike books? Without allies, -without readers, I cannot prevent the abasement of Europe; let it -be brought about then. One day it will find its goal--a day which I -shall not see. Then my books will be discovered, then I shall have -my readers. For them I should write, for them I should determine my -fundamental ideas. To-day, I cannot fight, for I have not enemies -even...." At the beginning of July, when leaving the Germany which had -tried him so hardly, he drew up a detailed plan. In September he wrote: - -"I announce, for the next four years, the completion of my work in four -volumes. The title alone is alarming: _The Will to Power, an essay -towards a Transvaluation of all Values._ For this all is necessary to -me--health, solitude, good humour--perhaps a wife _(eine Frau)_ also." - -In what retirement should he compose this new work? Genoa had inspired -the two books which he wrote as a convalescent, _The Dawn of Day_ and -_The Gay Science;_ Rapallo, Nice, had inspired _Zarathustra._ He now -thought of Corsica. For long he had been curious about this savage -island, and, in the island itself, of a town, Corte-- - -"There Napoleon was not born but--what is perhaps more -important--conceived, and is it not the clearly indicated spot in which -I should undertake the transvaluation of all values? ... For me, too, -it is a _conception_ that is in question." - -Alas! this Napoleonic work, the title of which alone should strike -terror, thus struck its author. Nietzsche was not unaware whither that -_"via mala des consequences"_ which he had been long following led him. -Since a covetous, conquering force is at the heart of nature, every -act which does not correspond precisely with this force is inexact and -feeble. He said this, he wrote it, and such indeed was his thought: -man is never so great as when he combines an alertness and refinement -of mind with a certain native brutality and cruelty of instinct. Thus -the Greeks understood _virtu,_ and the Italians _virtù._ The French -politicians, and, after them, Frederick II., Napoleon and Bismarck, -acted in accordance with these maxims. Troubled by his doubts, lost -in his problem, Nietzsche firmly grasped this fragmentary but certain -truth: _one must have the courage of psychological nudity,_ he was -to write. He trained himself to it, but remained dissatisfied. His -mind was too clear, his soul too pensive, and this definition of the -strongest men was too curt and icy for his dreams. Formerly he had -chosen Schiller and Mazzini for masters. Did he admire them no longer? -No soul was ever as constant as his. Only he feared that, in following -them, he would gratify a certain feebleness, and the masters whom he -now wished to prefer were called Napoleon and Cæsar Borgia. - -On this occasion, too, he turned away from his task, shunning harsh -affirmations. The publisher Fritsch consented, on the condition that he -received pecuniary aid, to publish a second edition of the _Origin of -Tragedy, The Dawn of Day,_ and _The Gay Science._ This had long been -one of Nietzsche's desires: he wished to add prefaces to these old -works, to touch them up, and perhaps to add to them. He undertook this -new work and became absorbed in it. - -Instead of going to Corsica he returned to the Genoese coast, to Ruta, -not far from Rapallo, above Portofino, which thrusts its wooded crest -out into the sea. Again he found the walks and familiar places in -which Zarathustra had spoken to him. How sad he had then been! He had -just lost his two last friends, Lou Salomé and Paul Rée. Nevertheless -he had continued his task and, indeed, created, at the moment of his -profoundest sorrow, his bravest book. Friedrich Nietzsche let himself -be stirred by these memories of the past. - -He now received a letter which was the first sign of his coming fame. -In August, 1886, in despair of being listened to by his compatriots, -he had sent his book, _Beyond Good and Evil,_ to two foreign readers, -to the Dane Georges Brandes, and to the Frenchman Hippolyte Taine. -Georges Brandes did not reply. Hippolyte Taine wrote (October 17, 1886) -a letter which gave Nietzsche some joy. - -"On my return from a voyage, I found the book which you were good -enough to send me; as you say, it is full of 'thoughts from behind' -(_'pensées de derrière_'); the form, which is so lively, so literary, -the impassioned style, the often paradoxical turn, will open the eyes -of the reader who wants to understand; I will in particular recommend -to philosophers your first piece on philosophers and philosophy (pp. -14, 17, 20, 25); but the historians and critics will also have their -share in the booty of new ideas (for example 41, 75, 76, 149, 150, &c). -What you say of national genius and character in your eighth essay -is infinitely suggestive, and I shall re-read this piece, although I -find there a far too flattering word relative to myself. You do me a -great honour in your letter by putting me by the side of M. Burckhardt -of Basle, whom I greatly admire; I think that I was the first man in -France to announce in the press his great work upon the _Culture of the -Renaissance in Italy...._ With best thanks, I am, - -"Yours sincerely, - -"H. TAINE." - -Paul Lanzky rejoined Friedrich Nietzsche at Ruta. Not having seen him -for eighteen months, he was struck by the change which he observed -in him. The body was weighed down, the features altered. But the man -remained the same; however bitter his life had become, he was still -affectionate and naïve, quick to laughter like a child. He brought -Lanzky up the mountain which gives at every instant such magnificent -views over the snowy Alps and the sea. The two rested in the most -beautiful spots; then they gathered up bits of old timber and twigs -from the autumn vines and lit fires, Nietzsche saluting the flames and -the rising smoke with cries of joy. - -It was then, it was in this inn at Ruta, that Nietzsche drew up -the prefaces to _The Dawn of Day_ and _The Gay Science,_ in which -he recounted with so strange a vivacity his spiritual _Odyssey:_ -Triebschen and Wagner's friendship; Metz and the discovery of war; -Bayreuth, hope and mishap; the rupture with Richard Wagner; the -bruising of his love; the cruel years which he spent deprived of poetry -and of art; finally Italy, which gave him back both; Venice and Genoa, -the two towns which saved him, and the Ligurian coast, Zarathustra's -cradle. - -While Nietzsche wrote thus and struggled against depression, may it not -be that he was taking drugs to excite himself to work? There is some -evidence to suggest it. But we shall never have exact information on -this point. We know that he was absorbing chloral and an extract of -Indian hemp which, in small doses, produced an inward calm; in large -doses, excitement. Perhaps he handled a more complicated pharmacopoeia -in secret; it is the habit of nervous persons. - -Friedrich Nietzsche liked this coast. "Imagine," he wrote to Peter -Gast, "a little island in the Greek archipelago, pushed down here by -the winds. It is a coast of pirates, swift, deceitful, dangerous...." -He proposed to pass the winter there. But soon he modified his plans, -and wished to return to Nice. Lanzky sought in vain to keep him back. - -"You complain of being abandoned," he said to him. "Whose fault is it? -You have disciples and you discourage them. You call me here, you call -Peter Gast; and you leave." - -"I need the light, the air of Nice," answered Nietzsche; "I need the -Bay of the Angels." - -He went alone. During this winter, he completed his prefaces, he -re-read and touched-up his books. He lived, it seems, in a singular -condition of relaxation, indecision and melancholy. He sent his -manuscripts to Peter Gast, as he always did, but his requests for -advice have an unusual accent of unrest and humility. "Bead me," he -wrote in February, 1887, "with more distrust than you generally do; say -simply: this will do, this won't do I like this, why not alter that, -&c, &c." - -He read, and his readings seemed guided by a queer curiosity and less -under the rigorous sway of his prejudices. - -He familiarised himself with the works of the French decadents. He -appreciated Baudelaire's writings on Richard Wagner, Paul Bourget's -_Essais de Psychologie Contemporaine._ He read the _Contes_ of -Maupassant and admired this "great Latin." He ran through some volumes -by Zola and did not allow himself to be seduced by a merely popular -style of thought, by a merely decorative art. He bought, and commented -in pencil on the margin, the _Esquisse d'une Morale sans obligation -ni sanction._ Guyau, like Nietzsche and at the same moment, had had -the idea of founding a system of morals on the expansive modalities -of life. But he understood them in another sense and interpreted as -a force of love what Nietzsche understood as a conquering force. -Nevertheless the initial agreement was certain. Nietzsche valued -highly the purity and intelligence of idea which he found in the work -of the French philosopher. The vogue of the Russian novelists was -then beginning. Nietzsche took an interest in these poets of a young, -violent, and sensitive race, whose charm he always felt. "Do you know -Dostoievsky?" he wrote to Peter Gast. "No one, with the exception of -Stendhal, has so satisfied and ravished me. There is a psychologist -with whom I am in agreement!" He indicated the new author to all -his correspondents. The religious fervour of the Slavs interested -him and found him indulgent. It was not a symptom of weakness, he -thought; it was the return of an energy which could not accept the -cold constraints of modern society and whose insubordination took -the form of a revolutionary Christianity. These barbarians, thwarted -in their instincts, were disconcerted and self-accusatory; they had -precipitated a crisis which was still undecided, and Nietzsche wrote: -"This bad conscience is a malady, but a malady of the nature of -pregnancy." For, hoping always, he obstinately defended his thoughts -against his disgusts. He wished his thoughts to remain free, kindly and -confident, and when there rose within him and towards them a hatred of -Europe and of its debased peoples; when he feared that he might yield -to his bitter humour, he corrected himself at once: "No," he kept on -saying, "Europe is at present richer than ever in men, in ideas, in -aspirations, better prepared for great tasks, and we must, contrary to -all semblance, hope everything from these multitudes, though their ugly -disposition seems to forbid hope." - -During these early months of 1887, Friedrich Nietzsche became intimate -with a certain Madame V. P. They went together to San Remo and Monte -Carlo. We do not know this woman's name; we have no letter, either -written by her or addressed to her. We may infer some mystery, perhaps -a mystery of love. - -Madame V. P. was no doubt Nietzsche's companion[2] when he heard the -prelude to _Parsifal_ at the concerts in the Casino at Monte Carlo. -He listened without any bitterness, with the sudden indulgence of a -worn-out adversary. "I loved Wagner," he wrote in September to Peter -Gast; "I still love him." Assuredly he still loved him, when he could -speak as he did of this symphony which he had just heard. - -"I do not seek to know whether this art can or should serve some end," -he wrote to Peter Gast, "I ask myself: Has Wagner ever done better? -And I find this: the most exact conscience and psychological precision -in the manner of relating, expressing, and communicating emotion; the -shortest and most direct form; every nuance of sentiment defined with -an almost epigrammatical brevity: such descriptive clearness that -in listening to this music one thinks of some buckler of marvellous -workmanship; lastly, a sentiment, a musical experience of a soul which -is extraordinary and sublime; a "haughtiness," in the formidable -meaning of the word; ... a sympathy, a penetration, which enters like a -knife into the soul--and a pity for what he has discovered and judged -at the bottom of that soul. Such beauties one finds in Dante and -nowhere else. What painter has ever painted so melancholy a look of -love as Wagner in the last accents of his prelude?" - -How easy it would have been for him to be a great critic, equal in his -delicacy, superior in the largeness of his views, to that Sainte-Beuve -whom he esteemed so highly! He knew it, and found it hard to resist -the seductions of that "dilettantism of analysis"--the expression is -his own. His best readers of ten remarked this. "What a historian -you are!" Burckhardt used to say, and Hippolyte Taine repeated it. -It did not satisfy Nietzsche. He despised the calling of historian -or of critic. He was informed by a young German whom he met at Nice -that the professors of Tübingen took him as a merely dissolvent mind, -radical and nihilistic; it saddened him. He had not torn himself -from the romanticism of pity and love to sink at last in the inverse -romanticism of violence and energy. He admired Stendhal, but did not -intend to be a Stendhalian. The Christian belief had nourished his -infancy, the disciplines of Pforta had ripened it, Pythagoras, Plato, -Wagner had increased, elevated his desires. He wished to be a poet and -a moralist, an inventor of virtues, venerations, and serenities: none -of his readers, none of his friends, had understood this intention. In -correcting the proofs of _The Dawn of Day,_ he re-read this old page, -the truth of which still held good. - -"We are still on our knees before power--according to the old custom -of slaves--and yet, when the degree of _venerability_ shall have to be -fixed, only the degree of _rationality in power_ will be decisive; we -have to investigate to what extent power has indeed been overcome by -something higher of which it is now the tool and instrument. But as yet -there is an absolute lack of eyes for such investigations; nay, in most -cases the appraisement of genius is even considered a crime. And thus -perhaps the most beautiful of all spectacles still takes place in the -dark and, after bursting into bloom, soon fades into perpetual night--I -mean the spectacle of that power which a man of genius employs, not -in his works, but in the development of himself, regarded as a work, -that is, in the task of self-mastery, in the purification of his -imagination, in his deliberate choice and ordering of the course of his -tasks and inspirations. And yet the great man is still invisible in the -greatest thing which claims worship, invisible like a distant star; his -triumph over power continues to be without eyes, hence also without -song and poets. As yet the order of greatness has not been settled for -the sum total of human history...." - -Alas, for victory over force, one must possess some exterior force, -reason or faith. Nietzsche, denying to the one or to the other all -their rights, has disarmed himself for the combat. - - * * * * * - -At the beginning of March a violent earthquake terrified the -cosmopolitan _flaneurs_ of Nice. Friedrich Nietzsche admired these -movements of nature which reminded man of his nothingness. Two years -earlier the catastrophe of Krakatoa, which destroyed two thousand -human beings in Java, had filled him with enthusiasm. "It's grand," -he said to Lanzky, whom he had asked to read the telegrams to him; -"two thousand human beings annihilated at a stroke! It's magnificent. -This is how humanity should come to its end--how one day it will end." -And he hoped that a tidal wave would at least do away with Nice and -its peoples. "But," observed Lanzky, "we should be done away with -ourselves." "What matter!" answered Nietzsche. His almost realised -desire amused him. He did not advance his departure by a single day. - -"Hitherto," he wrote on March 7th, "among these thousands of people in -a condition of folly, I have lived with a sentiment of irony and cold -curiosity. But one cannot answer for oneself; perhaps to-morrow I shall -be as unreasonable as any one. Here there is an _imprévu_ which has its -charm." - -By the middle of March he would have ended his work on the prefaces; -and, as he says in one of them: "What do Herr Nietzsche, his illnesses -and recoveries, matter to us? Let us speak frankly, let us go straight -to the problem." Yes, surely, let us go straight to the problem; -determine, among the many ends which men propose to themselves, those -which truly elevate and ennoble them; succeed at last in gaining our -_triumph over power. _ On March 17th he sketched out a plan: - - - First Book: _European Nihilism._ - Second Book: _Criticism of Superior Values._ - Third Book: _Principle of a New Evaluation._ - Fourth Book: _Discipline and Selection._ - - -He had sketched a very similar programme in July, 1886: two books of -analysis and criticism; two books of doctrine and affirmation; in all -four books--four volumes. - -Every springtime brought him back to a condition of uncertainty and -uneasiness; between Nice and the Engadine; he did not know where to -find an air which should be bright enough and not too warm; a fine -light that would not hurt his eyes. In this year, 1887, he let himself -be tempted by the Italian lakes, and, leaving Nice, set out for Lake -Maggiore. This midget Mediterranean, enclosed in the mountains, pleased -him infinitely at first. "This place strikes me as more beautiful than -any part of the Mediterranean," he wrote, "and more moving--how is -it that I took so many years to discover it? The sea, like all huge -things, has something stupid and indecent which will not be found -here." He corrected the proofs of the _Gaya Scienza;_ he re-read -_Human, Too Human,_ and again paused to contemplate with pity his -unrecognised work. - -But he recovered possession of himself. The coming work alone mattered. -He forced himself to recommence his meditations, and at once became -enervated and exhausted. He had planned a visit to Venice; suddenly he -gave it up. "My health is against it," he wrote to Peter Gast. "I am -unworthy of seeing such beautiful things." - -From aggravation of ennui, an epistolary quarrel arose between Erwin -Rohde and himself. He had occasion to write a word to the most -intimate friend of past days, and could not resist the pleasure of -adding a malicious touch. "I suit old people only," he wrote; "Taine, -Burckhardt, and even you are not old enough for me...." Erwin Rohde -did not like this touch. A professor, whereas Nietzsche was nothing; a -scholar with a reputation among European scholars, whereas Nietzsche -was still unknown despite his eccentric books, he would not permit -irreverence, and defended his dignity. His letter must have been -strongly worded, for he had it restored to him later, and destroyed it. - -This misadventure tried Nietzsche. His health was in every respect -impaired; he resolved to follow a régime of waters, massage and baths, -in a special establishment in Switzerland, at Coire. He went there, and -surrendered himself to the doctors. - -He kept on working, however, and made an energetic effort to discover -and define the moral values which he wished to propound. But in vain; -do what he would, the problem of his third book--_Principle of a New -Evaluation_--remained unsolved. "We may here transcribe the more -precise definition with which we are furnished by another draft. - -"_Third Book:_ the problem of the legislator. To bind anew the -unregulated energies in such a manner that they are not mutually -annihilated by running foul of one another; to mark the _real -augmentation_ of force." - -What does this mean? What real augmentation, what real direction of -things is indicated us by these words? Is it an augmentation of -intensity? Then every shade of energy, provided it be intense, will -be good. But we must not take it in this sense. Nietzsche selected, -preferred, excluded. This augmentation is then the sign of an order, of -a natural hierarchy. But in every hierarchy there must be a criterion -by which the ranks are distributed; what should this criterion be? -Nietzsche would formerly have said: It will be my logical affirmation, -the beliefs which I shall have given. Does he still think it? -Doubtless; his thoughts hardly vary. But his audacity was lessened -by his sorrows, his critical mind had been rendered more exacting by -long indecisions. He desired, he sought, he seemed to ask science, the -"doctor-philosopher," for a real basis which all his habits of thought -refused him. - -Mournful news completed the ruin of his courage. Heinrich von Stein -died, before his thirtieth year, of a heart failure. - -"This has put me out of my senses," wrote Nietzsche to Peter Gast; "I -truly loved him. I always thought that he was reserved for me some day. -He belonged to that little number of men whose _existence_ rejoiced -me; and he too had great confidence in me.... In this very place how -we laughed! ... He paid a two days' visit to Sils, he had not a glance -for Nature or Switzerland--he came straight from Bayreuth; he went back -straight to Halle, to his father;--one of the rarest and most delicate -homages I have ever received. It made an impression. He had said at the -hotel: 'If I come, it is not for the Engadine.'" - -Three weeks passed. He complained of bitter inclinations, of -susceptibility which lowered his soul. Nevertheless, he announced a -new work. What was it? - - * * * * * - -It is not _The Will to Power._ His impatience, which is added to by -fatigue, does not easily bend to the delays of meditation. Of his old -gifts, his genius for improvising, his polemical genius alone survive. -Herr Widmann, a Swiss critic, had just written a study on _Beyond Good -and Evil_ and saw in this work but a manual of anarchism: "This is -dynamite," he said. Friedrich Nietzsche wished to reply, and at once -drew up at a spurt in fifteen days one, two, three short essays which -he entitled as a whole, _A Genealogy of Morals._ "This work," he wrote -on the title-page, "is destined to complete and elucidate my last book, -_Beyond Good and Evil._" - -"I have said," he wrote in substance, "that I place myself beyond Good -and Evil--_Gut und Böse._ Does this mean that I wish to liberate myself -from every moral category? No. I challenge the exaltation of meekness -which is called good; the defamation of energy which is called bad; but -the history of the human conscience--do the moralists know that such -a history exists?--displays to us a multitude of other moral values, -other ways of being good, other ways of being bad, numerous shades of -honour and of dishonour. Even here the reality is moving, initiative is -free; one must seek, one must create." - -But Nietzsche developed his thought further: "I have wished," he wrote -some months later à propos of this little book, "I have wished to fire -a cannon-shot with more sonorous powder." He exposed the distinction -between the two moralities, the one dictated by the masters, the other -by the slaves; and he thought to recognise in the verbal roots of the -words "good" and "evil," their old meaning. _Bonus, buonus,_ said he, -comes from _duonus,_ which signifies warrior; _malus_ comes from -μέλας, black: the blonde Aryans, the ancestors of the Greek, -indicated by this word the type of conduct habitual to their slaves -and subjects, the Mediterraneans crossed with Negro and Semitic blood. -These primitive notions of what is noble and what is vile, Friedrich -Nietzsche does not challenge. - -On the 18th of July, writing from Sils-Maria, he announced the new work -to Peter Gast. - -"I have energetically employed these last days, which were better," he -wrote. "I have drawn up a little piece of work which, as I think, puts -the problem of my last book in a clear light. Every one has complained -of not having understood me; and the hundred copies sold do not permit -me to doubt that in effect I am not understood. You know that for three -years I have spent about 500 thalers to defray the cost of my books; -no honorarium, it goes without saying, and I am 43 years old, and I -have written fifteen books! Further: experience, and many applications, -more painful to me than I care to say, force me to certify, as a fact, -that no German editor wants to have anything to do with me (even if -I abandon my author's rights). Perhaps this little book which I am -completing to-day will help to sell some copies of my last book (it -always pains me to think of the poor Fritzsch on whom all the weight of -my work rests). Perhaps my publishers will some day benefit from me. As -for myself, I know only too well that when people begin to understand -me, _I shall not benefit from it._" - -On the 20th of July, he despatched the manuscript to the publisher. -On the 24th July, he called it back by telegram in order to add a -few features, a few pages. All his summer was spent in discomfort, -melancholy, and the correction of his book, which he never ceased to -touch up, to draw out, to render more violent and more alive. Towards -the end of August, perceiving an empty space on the last page of the -first section, Nietzsche added this curious note, in which he indicated -the unstudied problems which he was to have neither strength nor time -to attack. - -"_Remark._--I take the opportunity presented by this essay to express -publicly and formally a wish which, so far, I have only mentioned -occasionally to certain scholars, in chance conversations. Some Faculty -of Philosophy ought, by a series of academical prize-dissertations, to -further studies in the _history of morality;_ perhaps this book will -serve to give a vigorous impetus in this direction. I would propose the -following question: - -"_What hints are furnished by philology, more especially by -etymological research, with reference to the history of the development -of moral concepts?_ - -"On the other hand it will be as necessary to interest physiologists -and doctors in these problems. In fact and above all, all tables of -values, every 'thou shalt' known to history and ethnological research, -need to be explained and elucidated in the first place from their -_physiological_ side, before any attempt is made to interpret them -through psychology.... The question: What is this or that table of -values and morality _worth?_ must be considered from the most varied -perspectives. Especially 'the worth for what?' must be considered with -extraordinary discernment and delicacy. A thing, for instance, which -has evident value with reference to the greatest durability of a race -might possess quite another value, if it were a question of creating -a higher type. The good of the greatest number and the good of the -smallest number are antithetical points of view in valuation; we shall -let the simplicity of English biologists suppose that the former is -_by itself_ of higher value. All sciences must prepare the way for -the philosopher of the future, whose task will consist in solving the -_problem of values_ and determining _their hierarchy_." - -September came. The proofs were corrected, the Engadine became cold. -The wandering philosopher had to find new quarters and new work. - -"To tell the truth," he wrote to Peter Gast, "I hesitate between Venice -and Leipsic; I should go there to work, I still have a lot to learn, -many questions to ask and much to read for the great thought of my -life of which I must now acquit myself. It would not be a matter of -an autumn, but of a _whole winter_ spent in Germany. And, weighing -everything together, my health dissuades me very strongly from essaying -a like experience this year. It will be then Venice or Nice; and from -a quite personal point of view, that is better perhaps. Moreover, I -need solitude and contemplation rather than study and inquiry into five -thousand problems." - -Peter Gast was at Venice, and Venice, as one might have foreseen, -carried the day. Nietzsche lived for some weeks, a _flaneur_ and all -but happy, in the town with a "hundred profound solitudes." He scarcely -wrote: his days, according to Peter Gast, were idle or seemed to be -so. It was not to shut himself up in a room in Venice that he gave up -the libraries of Leipsic. He walked, frequented the poor "trattoria," -where at midday the humblest, the most courteous of lower classes sit -down to eat; when the light was too strong he went to rest his eyes in -the shade of the basilica; when day began to decline he recommenced -his perpetual walks. Then he could look at St. Mark, with its flocks -of familiar pigeons, without suffering, at the lagoon with its islands -and temples. He kept on thinking of his work. He imagined it logical -and free, simple in its plan, numerous in its details, luminous with -a little mystery, a little shade on every line; he wished in short -that it should resemble that city which he loved, that Venice whose -sovereign will allied itself to the play of all fantasy and grace. - -Let us read this page of notes, written in November, 1887; L'_Ombra di -Venezia,_ is it not obvious there? - -"_A perfect_ book to consider: - -"(1) Form. Style. _An ideal monologue,_ all that has a learned -appearance, absorbed in the depths. All the accents of profound -passion, of unrest and also of weakness. Alleviations, sun tasks--short -happiness, sublime serenity. To go beyond demonstration; to be -absolutely personal, without employing the first person. Memoirs as -it were; to say the most abstract things in the most concrete, in the -most cutting manner. The whole history as if it had been _lived_ and -_personally suffered._ Visible things, precise things, examples, as -many as possible. No description; all the problems transposed into -sentiment as far as passion. - -"(2) Expressive terms. Advantage of military terms. To find expressions -to replace philosophical terms." - -On the 22nd of October he was at Nice. - - * * * * * - -Two events (the word is assuredly not too strong) occupied the first -two weeks of his stay. He lost his oldest friend; he acquired a reader. - -The lost friend was Erwin Rohde. The quarrel begun in the previous -spring was then consummated. Nietzsche wrote to Rohde, and his first -intention was not to wound. "Do not withdraw from me too lightly," he -wrote in announcing the despatch of his last book, _The Genealogy of -Morals;_ "at my age and in my solitude I can hardly bear to lose the -few men in whom I formerly confided." But he could not limit himself to -these words. He had received a second note, a very amiable one, from -Hippolyte Taine,[3] whom Erwin Rohde had criticised disrespectfully in -his letter of May. Nietzsche wished to defend his French correspondent, -and continued: - -"N.B.--I beg that you judge M. Taine more sensibly. The scurrilities -that you express and think about him irritate me. I pardon them to the -prince Napoleon, not to friend Rohde. It is difficult to me to think -that any one who misunderstands this great-hearted and severe-minded -race can understand anything of my task. Besides, you have never -written me a word which shows that you have the least suspicion of the -destiny which weighs me down. I have forty-three years behind me and am -as alone as if I were a child." - -All relations were broken off. - -The new reader acquired was Georges Brandes, who acknowledged the -despatch of the _Genealogy_ in an extraordinarily intelligent and vivid -letter. - -"I get the breath of a new mind from your books," he wrote: "I do not -always entirely understand what I read, I do not always see whither -you are bound, but many features are in accord with my thoughts -and sympathies; like you I hold the ascetic ideal in poor esteem; -democratic mediocrity inspires in me, as in you, a profound repugnance; -I appreciate your aristocratic radicalism. I am not quite clear with -regard to your contempt for the ethic of pity ... - -"Of you I know nothing. I see with astonishment that you are a -professor. In any case I offer you my best compliments on being, -intellectually, so little of a professor.... You are of the small -number of men with whom I would like to talk." - -It would seem as if Nietzsche ought to have felt very strongly the -comfort of having found two witnesses to his work, and of so rare a -quality: Brandes and Taine. Did he not learn, about this time, that -Brahms was reading _Beyond, Good and Evil_ with much relish? But the -iron had entered into his soul, and the faculty of receiving happy -impressions was, as it were, extinguished in him. He had lost that -interior joy, that resistant serenity of which he was formerly so -proud, and his letters displayed only melancholy. - -With this disaster there survived the activity of his mind alone, -which worked with singular energy. We can with difficulty enumerate -the objects which occupied his attention. Peter Gast transcribed his -_Hymn to Life_ for the orchestra; Nietzsche superintended, sometimes -corrected, always naïvely admired, this new form of his work. - -The journal of the Goncourts appeared; he read this "very interesting -novelty," and sat down to table at Magny's with Flaubert, Sainte-Beuve, -Gautier, Taine, Gavarri and Renan. All these distractions did not -prevent him from embarking resolutely on his new work, the decisive -work in which his wisdom and not his rage would speak; the calm work -in which polemics would be without rights. He defined in six lines the -design which he had formed. - -"To have run through every chamber of the modern soul, to have eaten -in each of its corners: my pride, my torture, and my joy. To transcend -pessimism effectively, and, in short, a Goethean regard full of love -and good-will." - -Friedrich Nietzsche in this note designated the inspirer of his last -work; it was to be Goethe. No nature differed so much from his own, and -this very difference determined his choice. Goethe had humiliated no -mode of human activity, he had excluded no idea from his intellectual -world; he had received and administered as a benevolent lord the -immense heritage of human culture. Such was Friedrich Nietzsche's last -ideal, his last dream. He wished, in this extremity of life (he knew -his destiny), to spread, like the sinking sun, his softest lights; to -penetrate everywhere, to justify and illumine everything, so that not -one shadow should exist upon the surface of things, not one sorrow in -the privacy of souls. - -He easily determined the directing ideas of his first two volumes: -_European Nihilism, The Criticism of Higher Values._ For four years -he had not written a line which was not a part of this analysis or -criticism. He wrote rapidly, angrily. "A little fresh air," he cried; -"this absurd state of Europe cannot last much longer." It was only a -cry, and very quickly suppressed. Nietzsche put patience behind him, -like a weakness; with a song of love that he would answer the attacks -of life. He wished to return, and did, in fact, return, to calmer -thoughts. He put this question: "Is it true that the condition of -Europe is absurd? Perhaps a reason for the facts exists, and escapes -us. Perhaps in this debility of the will, in this democratic abasement, -one should rightly recognise a certain utility, a certain value of -conservation. They seem irrepressible; perhaps they are necessary, -perhaps in the long run salutary, though to-day, and, so far as we are -concerned, they must be deplored. - -"_Reflexion:_ It is madness to suppose that all this victory of values -can be anti-biological; one must seek to explain it by a _vital_ -interest for the maintenance of the type _man,_ even though it must -be attained by the preponderance of the feeble and the disinherited. -Perhaps if things went differently, man would cease to exist?--Problem. - -"The elevation of the type is dangerous to the conservation of the -species. Why? - -"The strong races are the prodigal races.... Here we are confronted by -a problem of economy...." - -He repressed all disgust, refused to allow himself the use of abusive -speech, tried to consider, and did consider, serenely, those tendencies -which he condemned. He asked: Must we deny to the masses the right to -seek their truths, their vital beliefs? The masses are the basis of -all humanity, the foundation of all cultures. Without them, what would -become of the masters? They require that the masses be happy. We must -be patient; we must suffer our insurgent slaves (for the moment our -masters) to invent the illusions which are favourable to them. Let them -believe in the dignity of work! If they thus become more docile in -work, their belief is salutary. - -"The problem," he writes, "is to render man as utilisable as possible, -and make him approximate, as far as may be done, as closely as possible -to the machine which never makes a mistake; for this, he must be armed -with the virtues of the machine, he must be taught to endure ennui, to -lend to ennui a superior charm ...; the _agreeable_ sentiments must -be put back to a lower rank.... The mechanical form of existence, -considered as the noblest, the highest, should adore itself. - -"A high culture can only be raised on a vast site, over a firm and -well-consolidated mediocrity.... - -"The sole end must, for a long while yet, be the _lessening_ of man: -for there must first be created a large foundation on which the race of -strong men may be raised.... - -"The _lessening_ of the European man is the great process which may -not be impeded; it should be accelerated again. It is the active -force which allows one to hope for the arrival of a stronger race, of -a race which should possess to excess those very qualities which the -impoverished species lack (will, responsibility, certitude, the faculty -of fixing an end for oneself)." - -Thus at the end of 1887, Nietzsche had succeeded in drawing up a first -sketch of the work of synthesis which he had proposed to himself. He -concedes a certain right, a certain dignity, to those motives which he -formerly reviled. The final rough drafts of _Zarathustra_ had already -given us similar indications. "The disciples of Zarathustra," wrote -Nietzsche, "give to the humblest, not to themselves, the expectation -of happiness. ... They distribute religions and systems, according to -a hierarchy." Nietzsche now writes, and the intention is similar: "The -humanitarian tendencies are not anti-vital, they suit the masses who -live slowly, and thus suit humanity which needs the satisfaction of the -masses. The Christian tendencies are also benevolent, and nothing is so -desirable," writes Nietzsche, "as their permanence; for they suit all -those who suffer, all the feeble, and it is necessary for the health -of human societies that suffering, that inevitable weaknesses, be -accepted without revolt, with submission, and, if possible, with love." -"Whatever I may happen to say of Christianity," wrote Nietzsche in 1881 -to Peter Gast, "I cannot forget that I owe to it the best experiences -of my spiritual life; and I hope never to be ungrateful to it at the -bottom of my heart." This thought, this hope, has never left him; and -he rejoices to have found a word of justice for the religion of his -childhood, the only one which still offers itself to souls. - -On December 14, 1887, he addressed a letter to an old correspondent of -the Basle days, Carl Fuchs. The accent is a proud one. - -"Almost all that I have written should be erased. During these latter -years the vehemence of my internal agitations has been terrible. -To-day, at the moment when I should be rising higher, my first task is -to modify myself, to _depersonalise_ myself towards higher forms. - -"Am I old? I do not know, and moreover I do not know what kind of youth -is necessary to me. - -"In Germany, people complain strongly of my 'eccentricities.' But as -they do not know where my centre is, they can hardly discern when or -how I happen to be eccentric." - -From the dates of his notes, it seems that Nietzsche approached -a different problem in the month of January, 1888. Those humble -multitudes whose rights he admits and measures would not deserve to -live, if their activity were not, in the last instance, governed by an -élite, utilised for glorious ends. What would be the virtues of this -élite, what ends would it serve? Nietzsche was thus brought back to the -problem which was his torment. Would he define at length this unknown, -and perhaps unattainable grandeur, towards which his soul had for so -long aspired? He was again a prey to sadness. He complained of his -sensibility, of his irritability, which had become such that each day, -on the arrival of the post, he hesitated and shivered before opening -his letters. - -"Never has life appeared so difficult to me," he wrote to Peter Gast on -January 15th. "I can no longer keep on terms with any sort of reality: -when I do not succeed in forgetting them, they break me.... There are -nights when I am overwhelmed with distress. And so much remains to be -done--all, so to say!--Therefore I must hold out. To this wisdom I -apply myself, at least in the mornings. Music, these days, gives me -sensations which I had never known. It frees me, it lets me recover -from the intoxication of myself; I seem to consider myself from a -great height, to _feel_ myself from a great height; thus it renders -me stronger, and regularly, after an evening's music (I have heard -_Carmen_ four times), I have a morning full of energetic perceptions -and lucky discoveries. It is quite admirable. It is as though I had -bathed myself in a _more natural_ element. Without music life is merely -a mistake, a weariness, an exile." - -Let us try to follow the course of his work. He subjected himself to -an historical research and attempted to discover the social class, the -nation, the race or the party which authorised the hope of a more noble -humanity. Here was the modern European: - -"How could a race of strong men disengage itself from it? a race -with the classical taste? The classical taste, that is, the will to -simplification, to accentuation ... the courage of psychological -nudity.... To raise oneself from this chaos to this organisation, one -must be constrained by a _necessity._ One must be without choice; -disappear or impose oneself. A dominant race can only have terrible and -violent origins. Problem: where are the _barbarians_ of the twentieth -century? Evidently they will only be able to appear and impose -themselves after huge socialistic crises--these will be the elements -most capable of the most persistent hardness in respect of themselves, -and who will be able to become the guarantees of _the most persistent -will._" - -Is it possible to discern in modern Europe these elements predestined -to victory? Nietzsche busied himself with this problem, and wrote down -the results of his researches in his notebook. - -"The most favourable impediments and remedies against modernity. - -"And first: - -"1. _Obligatory military service,_ with genuine wars which put an end -to all lightness of mind. - -"2. _National narrowness_ which simplifies and concentrates." - -Other indications corroborate the above. - -"The maintenance of the _military state,_ which is the only means left -to us, whether for the maintenance of the great traditions, or for the -institution of the superior type of man. And all circumstances which -perpetuate unfriendliness, distance between states, find themselves -thus justified." - -What an unforeseen conclusion to Nietzschean polemics! He had -dishonoured nationalism; and for the support which he sought in this -grave hour he fell back on nationalism. A yet more unexpected discovery -was to come. Nietzsche, proceeding with his researches, foresaw, -defined, and approved of a party which can be but a form or a reform of -Positivist democracy. He discerned the lineaments of the two vigorous -and sane groupings which suffice to discipline man. - -"_A party of peace,_ not sentimental, which denies war to itself and -its members, which also denies them recourse to the courts of law; -which provokes against itself, struggle, contradiction, persecution: -a party of the oppressed, at least for a time; soon the great party -opposed to sentiments of rancour and vengeance. - -"A _party of war,_ which with the same logic and severity against -itself, proceeds in an opposite sense." - -Should we recognise in these two parties the organised forces -which will produce that _tragical era of Europe_ which Nietzsche -announces? Perhaps; but let us be careful not to exaggerate the -value of these notes. They are rapidly written; as they surged and -passed in Nietzsche's mind, they should surge and pass before us. His -view pierces in every direction: it never settles upon one object. -No working-class Puritanism can satisfy him, for he knows that the -brilliancy of human culture stands or falls with the freedom of the -aristocracies. No nationalism can satisfy him, for he loves Europe and -her innumerable traditions. - -What resource is left to him? He has bound himself to seek in his -own time the points of support for a higher culture. For a moment he -thinks he has found them; he has deceived himself, and turns away, -for these supports impose a narrowness of direction which his mind -cannot tolerate. "There is this that is extraordinary in the life of a -thinker," he wrote in 1875--the age of the text proves the permanence -of the conflict--" that two contrary inclinations oblige him to follow, -at the same moment, two different directions and hold him under their -yokes; on the one hand he wishes to know and, abandoning without -weariness the firm ground which sustains the life of men, he adventures -into unknown regions; on the other hand he wishes to live, and, without -ever wearying, he seeks a place in which to five...." Nietzsche had -abandoned Wagner, wandered in uncertain regions. He seeks a final -security; what does he find? The narrow refuge of nationalism. He -withdraws from it: it may be a vulgar recourse, a useful artifice for -maintaining some solidity in the crowds, a certain principle of taste -and of severity; it may not be, it must not be, the doctrine of the -European élite, a scattered and, no doubt, non-existent élite to whom -his thoughts are addressed. - -Nietzsche put the idea of nationalism out of his mind; it was the -expedient of a weak century. He ceased to devote himself to his -search. What mattered to him the beliefs which should be beneficent to -the humble? He thought of Napoleon and of Goethe, both of whom rose -superior to their times, and to the prejudices of their countries. -Napoleon was contemptuous of the Revolution, but artfully turned its -energy to advantage; he despised France, but ruled her. Goethe held -Germany in poor esteem and took little interest in her struggles: he -wished to possess and reanimate all the ideas, all the dreams of men, -to conserve and enrich the vast heritage of moral riches which Europe -had created. Napoleon knew the grandeur of Goethe, and Goethe joyfully -observed the life of the conqueror, _ens realissimum._ The soldier, -the poet, the one who kept men in submission and silence, held them -to effort, the other who watched, meditated, and glorified, such is -the ideal couple that reappear at every decisive instant in Friedrich -Nietzsche's life. He had admired the Greece of Theognis and Pindar, -the Germany of Bismarck and Wagner; a long winding course led him -back towards his dream, towards that unrealised Europe of strength -and beauty of which Goethe and Napoleon were, upon the morrow of the -Revolution, the solitary representatives. - - * * * * * - -We can tell, from a letter addressed to Peter Gast (February 13, 1887), -that Nietzsche was at this date by no means satisfied with his work. "I -am still in the tentative, the introductory, the expectant stage ..." -he wrote, and he added: "The first rough draft of my _Essay towards a -Transvaluation_ is ready; it has been, on the whole, a torture, and -I have no longer the courage to think of it. In ten years I shall do -better." What was the cause of this dissatisfaction? Was he weary of -that tolerance, that condescension to the needs of the feeble and of -the crowd which he had imposed on himself for three months? Was he -impatient to express his anger? - -The letters which he then addressed to his mother and sister let -us approach him in a more intimate manner. (They have not all been -published.) He wrote to these two women from whom he was separated with -a tenderness which rendered difficult dissimulation and even courage -itself. He let himself go, as though it pleased him to find himself at -their knees a child again. He was gentle, obedient with his mother; -he signed himself humbly: _ta vieille créature._ With his sister he -talked like a comrade; he seemed to have forgotten all the grievances -he had had against her in other times; he knew that she would never -return from far-off Paraguay: he regretted her, he loved her because -she was lost. She is energetic, is Lisbeth, and valiantly risks her -life. Nietzsche admired in her the virtues which he esteemed above -all virtues, and which are, he thinks, the virtues of his race, the -noble race of the Counts Nietzki. "How strongly I feel," he wrote her, -"in all you do and say, that the same blood runs in our veins." He -hearkened to her, but she did not cease to offer him overwise advice. -As he complains of being alone, why does he not get made a professor, -why does he not marry? Nietzsche answered too easily: "Where would I -find a wife? and if by chance I did find one, would I have the right to -ask her to share my life?" He knew nevertheless, and said so, that a -wife would be sweet to him. - -"NICE, _January_ 25, 1888. "I must relate a little adventure to you: -yesterday, as I was taking my usual walk, I heard, not far off, a warm -and frank laugh (I thought that I heard your laugh); and when this -laughing person came near me--I saw a very charming girl, with brown -eyes, delicate as a deer. The sight warmed my heart, my old solitary -philosopher's heart--I thought of your matrimonial advice, and for the -rest of my walk, I could not rid myself of the image of this young and -gracious girl. Assuredly it would do me good to have so gracious a -thing by me--but would it do her good? Would not I, with my ideas, make -this girl unhappy? And would not my heart break (we assume that I love -her) if I saw so amiable a creature suffering? No, no marriage!" - -Was it not now that a singular and unwholesome idea fixed itself in his -thought? At every moment he was picturing to himself the joys of which -he was deprived: fame, love, and friendship; he thought rancourously -of those who possessed them, and above all of Richard Wagner, whose -genius had been always so sumptuously rewarded. How beautiful she had -been, when he knew her at Triebschen, this incomparable woman Cosima -Lizst, come, while yet married, to the scandal of the world, to live -with Wagner and help in his work! Attentive and clear-minded, active -and helpful, she assured him the security which he had hitherto lacked. -Without her, what would have become of him? Could he have mastered his -impatient, restless, excitable temperament? would he have been capable -of realising those great works which he was for ever announcing? Cosima -appeased him, directed him; thanks to her, he achieved the Tetralogy, -he reared Bayreuth, he wrote _Parsifal...._ Nietzsche recalled those -fine days at Triebschen. Cosima welcomed him, listened to his ideas and -projects, read his manuscripts, was benevolent, talked brightly to him. -Suffering and irritation deformed his memories; he became infatuated -with the thought that he had loved Cosima Wagner and that she, perhaps, -had loved him. Nietzsche wished to believe this, and came to believe -it. Yes, there had been love between them, and Cosima would have saved -him, as she saved Wagner, if, by lucky chance, she had only known him -a few years earlier. But every circumstance had been unfavourable to -Nietzsche. Here again Wagner had robbed him. He had taken all, fame, -love, friendship. - -We can divine this strange romance in the last works of Friedrich -Nietzsche. A Greek myth helps him to express and veil his thoughts; it -is the myth of Ariadne, Theseus, and Bacchus. Theseus was lost; Ariadne -has met him and led him to the exit from the labyrinth; but Theseus is -treacherous: he abandons upon the rock the woman who has saved him; -Ariadne would die alone and in despair if Bacchus did not intervene, -Bacchus-Dionysios who loves her. The enigma of these three names may -be solved: Ariadne is Cosima; Theseus, Wagner; Bacchus-Dionysios, -Nietzsche. - -On the 31st of March he wrote again, and his language was that of a -lost soul. - -"Night and day, I am in a state of unbearable tension and oppression, -by reason of the duty imposed upon me and also on account of my -conditions of life, which are absolutely opposed to the accomplishment -of this duty; here no doubt the cause of my distress must be sought. - -"... My health, thanks to an extraordinarily fine winter, to good -nourishment, to long walks, has remained sufficiently good. Nothing is -sick, but the poor soul. Besides, I will not conceal the fact that my -winter has been very rich in spiritual acquisitions for my great work: -so the mind is not sick; nothing is sick, but the poor soul." - -Nietzsche left Nice next day. He wished, before going up to the -Engadine, to make the experiment of a stay in Turin. Its dry air and -spacious streets had been praised in his hearing. He travelled with -difficulty; he lost his luggage and his temper, quarrelled with the -porters, and remained for two days ill at Sampiedarena, near Genoa; -in Genoa itself, he spent three days of rest, fully occupied with the -happy memories which he found again. "I thank my luck," he wrote to -Peter Gast, "that it led me back to this town, where the will rises, -where one cannot be cowardly. I have never felt more gratitude than -during this pilgrimage to Genoa...." On Saturday, April 6th, he arrived -at Turin, broken with fatigue. "I am no longer capable of travelling -alone," he said to Peter Gast in the same letter. "It agitates me too -much, everything affects me stupidly." - - - -III - - -_Towards the Darkness_ - - -Here we should discontinue our story to forewarn the reader. Hitherto, -we have been following the history of Nietzsche's thought. Nietzsche's -thought has now no longer a history, for an influence, come not from -the mind, but from the body, has affected it. People sometimes say that -Nietzsche was mad long before this. It may be that they are right; it -is impossible to reach an assured diagnosis. At least he had retained -his power of reflection, his will. He could still hold himself and his -judgments in check. In the spring of 1888 he lost this faculty. His -intelligence is not yet darkened; there is not a word he writes but is -penetrating and trenchant. His lucidity is extreme, but disastrous, -since it exercises itself only to destroy. As one studies the last -months of this life, one feels as though one were watching the work of -some engine of war which is no longer governed by the hand of man. - -Friedrich Nietzsche abandoned those moral researches which had -strengthened his work till now, enriched and elevated it. Let us recall -a letter addressed to Peter Gast in February, 1888: "I am in a state -of chronic irritability which allows me, in my better moments, a sort -of revenge, not the finest sort--it takes the form of an excess of -hardness." These words shed light on the three coming books: _The Case -of Wagner, The Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist._ - -We shall hurry on with the story of those months in which Nietzsche is -no longer quite himself. - - * * * * * - -About the 7th of April he received an unexpected letter at Turin. -Georges Brandes wrote informing him of a projected series of -conferences which were to be devoted to his philosophy. "It annoys -me," wrote Brandes, "to think that no one knows you here, and I wish -to make you known all of a sudden." Nietzsche replied: "Truly, dear -sir, this is a surprise. Where did you get such courage that you can -speak in public of a _vir obscurissimus?.._. Perhaps you imagine that -I am known in my own country. They treat me as something singular and -absurd, which it is not at all necessary _to take seriously"_ He ended -by remarking, "The long resistance has exasperated my pride a little. -Am I a philosopher? What does it matter?" - -The letter should have been an occasion of great joy; and, perhaps, had -it been possible to save him, the occasion of his salvation. Assuredly -he felt some happiness, but we scarcely discern it. The hour was late, -and Nietzsche now followed the tracks whither his destiny had drawn him. - -During these days of weariness and tension, he procured a translation -of the _Laws of Manu,_ for he wished to become familiar with the -model of those hierarchic societies for whose renovation he hoped. He -read, and his expectations were not deceived; this, the last study -of his life, turned out to be one of the most important he had ever -undertaken. It delighted him to ecstasy--here was a code on which were -established the customs and the order of four castes, a language that -was beautiful, simple, human in its very severity, a constant nobleness -of thought. And the impression of security, of sweetness which detached -itself from the book as a whole! Here are some commandments from its -earlier pages: - -"Before the cutting of the navel string, a ceremony is prescribed -at the birth of a male; he must be made, while sacred texts are -pronounced, to taste a little honey and clarified butter from a golden -dish. - -"Let the father fulfil the ceremony of the giving of a name, on the -tenth or twelfth day after birth, on a propitious lunary day, at a -favourable moment, under a star of happy influence. - -"Let the first name in the compound name of a Brahman express the -propitious favour; that of a Kshatriya, power; that of a Vaisya, -riches: that of a Sudra, abjection. - -"Let the name of a girl be soft, clear, agreeable, propitious and -easily spoken, terminating in long vowels, and resembling words of -benediction." - -Friedrich Nietzsche read and admired. He copied out many a passage, -recognising in the old Hindu text that _Goethean gaze, full of love and -of good will,_ hearing in its pages that _canto d' amore,_ which he had -himself wished to sing. - -But if he admired, he also judged. That Hindu order had as basis a -mythology of which the priests who interpreted it were not the dupes. -"These sages," wrote Nietzsche, "do not believe in all this--or -they would not have found it...." The laws of Manu were clever and -beautiful lies. Necessarily so, since Nature is a chaos, a derision of -all thought and of all order, and whoever aspires to the foundation of -an order, must turn away from her and conceive an illusory world. Those -master builders, the Hindoo lawgivers, are masters also in the art of -lying. If Nietzsche were not careful, their genius would drag him into -the path of falsehoods. - -Here was the instant of a crisis of which we know nothing but the -origin and the term. Nietzsche was alone at Turin, no one was by him -as he worked, he had no confidant. What was he thinking? Doubtless he -was studying, meditating continually over the old Aryan book which gave -him the model of his dreams, that book which was the finest monument of -æsthetic and social perfection, and, at the same time, of intellectual -knavery. How he must have loved and yet hated it! He mused, was amazed, -and suspended his work. Four years earlier a similar difficulty had -prevented him from completing his _Zarathustra._ It was no longer -a question of the _Superman,_ of an _Eternal Return._ These naïve -formulæ were abandoned, but the tendencies which they cloaked--the one, -lyrical, avid of construction and of order, even though illusory; the -other, avid of destruction and of lucidity--these unvarying tendencies -again exercised their influence at this point. Nietzsche hesitated: -should he finally listen to these Brahmins, these priests, these crafty -leaders of men. No; loyalty is the virtue upon which he can never -compound. Later perhaps, much later, when a few centuries are gone by, -humanity, more learned in the meaning of its life, in the origins and -values of its instincts, in the mechanism of heredities, may essay -new lawgivings. To-day it cannot: it would only add falsehoods and -hypocrisies to the old lies, the old hypocrisies, which already fetter -it. Nietzsche turned away from the thoughts which he had followed with -such energy for six months, and suddenly found himself exactly as he -had been in his thirtieth year, indifferent to all that was not in the -service of truth. - -"All that is suspect and false must be brought into the light!" he had -then written. "We do not wish to build prematurely, we do not know that -we can build, and that it may not be better to build nothing. There are -pessimists who are cowardly and resigned--of those we do not wish to -be." - -When he had thus expressed himself, Nietzsche still possessed strength -enough to consider calmly a labour made the easier by hope. But in ten -years he has lost his old force, his old calm, and all hope has left -him. His sick soul can no longer offer any resistance--irritability -overcomes it. He gives up the composition of his great work, -relinquishes it to write a pamphlet. By this circumstance our -conjectures are solved and, indeed, terminated. - -The days of serenity have gone by. Wounded to the death, Nietzsche -wishes to return blow for blow. Richard Wagner is his mark, the false -apostle of _Parsifal,_ the illusionist who has seduced his period. If -he formerly served Wagner, now he will disserve him, out of passion -as out of a sense of duty. He thinks: "It is I who made Wagnerism; -it is I who must unmake it." He wishes to liberate, by means of a -violent attack, those of his contemporaries who, weaker than himself, -still submit to the prestige of this art. He wants to humiliate this -man whom he has loved, whom he still loves; he wishes to defame this -master who was the benefactor of his youth; in short, if we do not -mistake, he wishes to take vengeance on a lost happiness. So he insults -Wagner; calls him a decadent, a low comedian, a modern Cagliostro. This -indelicacy--an unheard-of thing in Nietzsche's life--suffices to prove -the presence of the evil. - -No scruple haunted him. A happy excitement favoured and hastened on -his work. Alienists are familiar with those singular conditions which -precede the last crises of general paralysis, and Friedrich Nietzsche -seemed to abandon himself to an afflux of joy. He attributed the -benefit to the climate of Turin, which he was now trying. - -"Turin, dear friend," wrote he to Peter Gast, "is a capital discovery. -I tell you with the idea at the back of my mind that you may perhaps -also profit from it. My humour is good, I work from morning to night--a -little pamphlet on music occupies my fingers--I digest like a demi-god, -I sleep in spite of the nocturnal noises of carriages: so many symptoms -of the eminent suitability of Turin to Nietzsche." - -In July, in the Engadine, some damp and cold weeks did him a great -deal of harm. He lost his sleep. His happy excitement disappeared, or -transformed itself into bitter and febrile humours. It was then that -Fräulein von Salis-Marschlins, who has recounted her recollections in -an interesting brochure, saw him, after a separation of ten months. -She remarked the change in his condition; how he walked alone, his -hurried carriage, his sharp salute--he would stop scarcely or not at -all, in such a hurry was he to get back to his inn and put down the -thoughts which his walk had inspired in him. On the visits he paid her -he did not conceal his preoccupations. He was in dread of pecuniary -embarrassments: the capital which had constituted his little fortune -was almost gone; and could he, with the three thousand francs which -the University of Basle allowed him as a pension, provide for his -everyday needs and for the publication, always onerous, of his books? -It was in vain that he regulated his journeys and restricted himself -to the simplest lodgings and food. He was reaching the limits of his -resources. - -_The Case of Wagner_ was completed; to the text, a preliminary -discourse, a postscript, a second postscript, and an epilogue were -added. He could not cease extending his work, and making it more -bitter. Nevertheless he was not satisfied, and felt, after having -written it, some remorse. - -"I hope that this very _risqué_ pamphlet has pleased you," he wrote to -Peter Gast on the 11th of August, 1888. "That would be for me a comfort -by no means negligible. There are certain hours, above all, certain -evenings, when I do not feel enough courage in myself for so many -follies, for so much hardheartedness; I am in doubt over some passages. -Perhaps I went too far (not in the matter, but in my manner of -expressing the matter). Perhaps the note in which I speak of Wagner's -family origins could be suppressed." - -A letter addressed about this time to Fräulein von Meysenbug gives food -for thought. - -"I have given to men the most profound book," he writes; "one pays -dearly for that. The price of being immortal is sometimes life! ... And -always on my road that cretinism of Bayreuth! The old seducer Wagner, -dead though he be, continues to draw away from me just those few men -whom my influence might touch. But in Denmark--how absurd to think!--I -have been celebrated this winter. Dr. Georges Brandes, whose mind is -so full of vitality, has dared to talk about me before the University -of Copenhagen. And with brilliant success! Always more than three -hundred listeners! And a final ovation!--And something similar is being -arranged in New York. I am the most _independent_ mind in Europe and -the _only_ German writer--which is something!" - -He added in a postscript: "Only a great soul can endure my writings. -Thus I have had the good luck to provoke against myself all that is -feeble and virtuous." No doubt the indulgent Fräulein von Meysenbug -saw in these lines a point directed against herself. She answered, -as usual, in her kindly manner: "You say that everything feeble and -virtuous is against you? Do not be so paradoxical. Virtue is not -weakness but strength, words say it plainly enough. And are you -not yourself the living contradiction of what you say? For you are -virtuous, and the example of your life, if men could only know it, -would, as I am assured, be more persuasive than your books." Nietzsche -replied: "I have read your charming letter, dear lady and dear friend, -with real emotion; no doubt you are right--so am I." - -How headlong a thing is his life! Days spent in walking, in getting the -rhythm of phrases, in sharpening thoughts. Often he works through the -dawn and is writing still when the innkeeper rises and goes noiselessly -out to follow the traces of the chamois among the mountains. "Am I not -myself a hunter of chamois?" thinks Nietzsche, and goes on with his -work. - -The _Case of Wagner_ being completed, Nietzsche began a new pamphlet, -directed not against a man, but against ideas--against all ideas that -men have found whereby to guide their acts. There is no metaphysical -world, and the rationalists are dreamers; there is no moral world, -and the moralists are dreamers. What then remains? "The world of -appearances, perhaps? But no; for with the world of truth we have -abolished the world of appearances!" Nothing exists but energy, renewed -at every instant. "Incipiet Zarathustra." Friedrich Nietzsche looked -for a title for his new pamphlet: _Leisure Hours of a Psychologist_ was -his first idea; then, _The Twilight of the Idols, or The Philosophy -of the Hammer. _ On September 7th he sent his manuscript to the -publisher. This little book--he wrote--must strike, scandalise, and -strain people's minds, and prepare them for the reception of his great -work. - -Of it he is always thinking, and his second pamphlet is scarcely -finished when he starts on this labour. But we no longer recognise the -calm and Goethean work which it had been his desire to write. He tries -new titles: _We other Immoralists, We other Hyperboreans:_ then returns -to his old title and keeps to it--_The Will to Power: An Essay towards -the Transvaluation of all Values._ Between September 3rd and September -30th he draws up a first section: _The Antichrist;_ and it is a third -pamphlet. This time he speaks outright, he indicates his Yea and his -Nay, his straight line and his goal: he exalts the most brutal energy. -All moral imperatives, whether dictated by Moses or by Manu, by the -people or by the aristocracy, are lies. "Europe was near to greatness," -he writes, "when, during the first years of the sixteenth century, it -was possible to hope that Cæsar Borgia would seize the Papacy." Are we -bound to accept these thoughts as definitive, because they are the last -that Nietzsche expressed? - -While he was drawing up _The Antichrist,_ he returned again to his -_Dionysian Songs,_ outlined in 1884, and completed them. Here we find -the sure expression of the presentiments that then agitated him. - - - "The sun sets, - Soon thy thirst shall be quenched, - Burning heart! - A freshness is in the air, - I breathe the breath of unknown mouths, - The great cold comes.... - - The sun is in its place, and burns upon my head at noon. - I salute ye, ye who come, - O swift winds, - O fresh spirits of the afternoon - - The air stirs, peaceable and pure. - Has it not darted towards me a sidelong glance, - A seductive glance, - To-night? - - Be strong, brave heart! - Ask not: why? - - Eve of my life! - The sun sets." - - -On the 21st September we find him at Turin. On the 22nd _The Case of -Wagner_ was published. Here at last was a book of which the newspapers -spoke a little. But Nietzsche was exasperated by their comments. With -the exception of a Swiss author, Carl Spiteler, no one had understood -him. Every word gave him the measure of the public ignorance as regards -his work. For ten years he had been seeking and following ideas found -by him alone: of this the German critics knew nothing; they knew only -that a certain Herr Nietzsche, a disciple of Wagner's, had been an -author; they read _The Case of Wagner_ and surmised that Herr Nietzsche -was just fallen out with his master. Besides, he felt that he had -incurred the blame of some of his later friends. Jacob Burckhardt, -always so precise, did not acknowledge the receipt of the pamphlet; the -good Meysenbug wrote an indignant and severe letter. - -"These are subjects," Nietzsche answered him, "with regard to which I -cannot permit any contradiction. Upon the question of _decadence_ I am -the highest authority (instance) in the world: the men of to-day, with -their querulous and degenerate instinct, should consider themselves -fortunate that they have by them some one who offers them a generous -wine in their most sombre moments. That Wagner succeeded in making -himself believed in, assuredly proves genius; but the genius of -falsehood. I have the honour to be his opposite--a genius of truth." - -In spite of the agitation thus displayed, his letters expressed an -unheard-of happiness. There is nothing which he does not admire. The -autumn is splendid; the roads, the galleries, the palaces, the cafés -of Turin, are magnificent; repasts are succulent and prices modest. He -digests well, sleeps marvellously. He hears French operettas: there is -nothing as perfect as their buoyant manner, "the paradise of all the -refinements." He listens to a concert: each piece, whether Beethoven, -Schubert, Bossaro, Goldmarck, Vibac, or Bizet be its author, seems to -him equally sublime. "I was in tears," he wrote to Peter Gast. "I think -that Turin, from the point of view of the musical sense, as from every -other point of view, is the _most solid_ town that I know." - -One might hope that this intoxication of spirit kept Nietzsche from -knowledge of his destiny. But a rare word sufficiently indicates his -clairvoyance. He has a sense of the approaching disaster. His reason -escapes from him and he measures its flight. On the 13th of November, -1888, he expressed to Peter Gast a desire to have him near, his -regret that he could not come; this was his constant plaint, the very -constancy of which indeed diminished its significance. Nietzsche, who -knew this, warned his friend: "What I tell you, take tragically," he -wrote. On the 18th of November he sent a letter which seemed quite -happy. He spoke of operettas which he had just heard, of Judic, and of -Milly Meyer. "For our bodies and for our souls, dear friend," he wrote, -"a light Parisian intoxication, 'tis salvation." He concluded: "This -letter also, I pray you to take tragically." - -Thus the condition of physical jubilation to which imminent madness -brought him let him escape neither presentiment nor anguish. He wished -to reassemble for the last time the memories and impressions which -life had left to him, and to compose a work which should be bizarre, -triumphant, and desperate. Look at the titles of the chapters: "Why -I am so prudent.--Why I am so wise.--Why I have written such good -books.--Why I am a fatality.--Glory and eternity...." He calls his -last work: _Ecce Homo._ What does he mean? Is he Antichrist or another -Christ? He is both together. Like Christ, he has sacrificed himself. -Christ is man and God: He has conquered the temptations to which He -made Himself accessible. Nietzsche is man and Superman: he has known -every feeble desire, every cowardly thought, and has cast them from -him. None before him was so tender or so hard; no reality has alarmed -him. He has taken upon himself not the sins of men, but all their -passions in their greatest force. "Jesus on the Cross," he writes, -"is an anathema upon life; Dionysos broken in bits is a _promise_ of -life, of life indestructible and ever-renewed." The solitary Christian -had his God: Nietzsche lives alone and without God. The sage of old -had his friends: Nietzsche lives alone and without friends. He lives -nevertheless, and can sing, in his cruel extremity, the Dionysian -hymn. "I am not a saint," he writes, "but a satyr." And again, "I have -written so many books, and such beautiful ones: how should I not be -grateful to life?" - -No; Nietzsche was a saint, not a satyr, and a wounded saint who aspired -to die. He said that he felt grateful to life; it was false, for his -soul was quite embittered. He lied, but sometimes man has no other way -to victory. When Arria, dying from the blow she had given herself, said -to her husband as she passed him her weapon: _"Pœte, non dolet._.." -she lied, and it was to her glory that she lied. And here, may we not -pass on Nietzsche himself the judgment that he had passed upon her? "Her -holy falsehood," he wrote in 1879, "obscures all the truths that have -ever been said by the dying." Nietzsche had not triumphed. _Ecce Homo:_ -he was broken but would not avow it. A poet, he wished that his cry of -agony should be a song; a last lyrical transport uplifted his soul and -gave him the force to lie. - - - - Thou sinkst to eve! - Thine eye already - Gleams half-bruised; - Drops from thy dew, - Like tears outstrewn, - Stream; the purple of thy love - Goes silent over the milky sea, - Thy ultimate, tardy blessedness.... - - All around, only the waves and their mirth. - What once was hard - Has foundered in a blue oblivion-- - My boat lies idle now. - Tempest and travel--how unlearnt - Hope and desire are drowned, - The soul and the sea he sleek. - - _Seventh_ solitude - Never felt I - Closer to me the sweet serenity, - Warmer the rays of the sun. - --Shines not even the ice of my summit? - - A rapid, silvery fish, - My bark glides away, afar." - - -Nevertheless he was conscious that the fame, so long desired, -approached. Georges Brandes, who was going to repeat and publish his -lectures, found him a new reader, the Swede Auguste Strindberg. Very -pleased, Nietzsche announced it to Peter Gast. "Strindberg has written -to me," he said, "and for the first time I receive a letter in which -I find a world-historic _(Welthistorik)_ accent." In St. Petersburg -they were getting ready to translate his _Case of Wagner._ In Paris, -Hippolyte Taine sought and found him a correspondent: Jean Bordeau, -contributor to the _Débats_ and the _Revue des Deux Mondes._ "At last," -wrote Nietzsche, "the grand Panama Canal towards France has been -opened." His old comrade Deussen handed him two thousand francs, the -offering of an unknown who wished to subscribe to an edition of his -works. Madame de Salis Marschlins offered him a thousand. Friedrich -Nietzsche should have been happy, but it was too late. - -How were his last days spent? We do not know. He lived in a furnished -apartment, the guest of a humble family, which lodged him and, if he -wished, fed him. He corrected the proofs of _Ecce Homo,_ adding a -postscript to the early text, then a dithyrambic poem; meanwhile he -prepared a new pamphlet for publication, _Nietzsche contra Wagner._ -"Before launching the first edition of my great work," he wrote to -his publisher, "we must prepare the public, we must create a genuine -tension--or it will be _Zarathustra_ over again." On the 8th of -December he wrote to Peter Gast: "I have re-read _Ecce Homo,_ I have -weighed every word in scales of gold: literally it cuts the history of -humanity into two sections--the highest superlative of dynamite." On -the 29th of December he wrote to his publisher: "I am of your opinion, -as to _Ecce Homo;_ let us not exceed 1,000 copies; a thousand copies -for Germany of a book, written in the grand style, is indeed rather -more than reasonable. But in France, I say it quite seriously, I count -on an issue of 80,000--or 40,000 copies." On the 2nd of January another -letter (in a rough and deformed hand): "Return me the poem--on with -_Ecce!_" - -There exists a tradition, difficult to verify, that, during these -latter days, Nietzsche often played fragments of Wagner to his hosts. -He would say to them: "I knew him," and talk of Triebschen. The -thing does not seem improbable, for now his memories of his greatest -happiness may well have visited him, and he may have found delight in -recounting them to simple people ignorant of his life. Had he not just -written in _Ecce Homo:_ - -"Since I am here recalling the consolations of my life, I ought to -express in a word my gratitude for what was by far my most profound and -best-loved joy--my intimacy with Richard Wagner. I wish to be just with -regard to the rest of my human relationships; but I absolutely cannot -efface from my life the days at Triebschen, days of confidence, of -gaiety; of sublime flashes--days of _profound_ happiness. I do not know -what Wagner was for others: our sky was never darkened by a cloud." - - * * * * * - -On the 9th of January, 1889, Franz Overbeck was sitting, with his -wife, at the window of his quiet house in Basle, when he saw old -Burckhardt stop and ring at his door. He was surprised: Burckhardt was -not an intimate, and some intuition warned him that Nietzsche, their -common friend, was the cause of this visit. For some weeks he had had -disquieting notes from Turin. Burckhardt brought him a long letter -which all too clearly confirmed his presentiments. Nietzsche was mad. -"I am Ferdinand de Lesseps," he wrote, "I am Prado, I am Chambige [the -two assassins with whom the Paris newspapers were then occupied]; I -have been buried twice this autumn." - -A few moments later Overbeck received a similar letter, and all -Nietzsche's friends were likewise advised. He had written to each of -them. - -"Friend Georges," he wrote to Brandes, "since you have discovered me, -it is not wonderful to find me: what is now difficult is to lose me. - -"THE CRUCIFIED." - -Peter Gast received a message the tragic significance of which he did -not understand: - - - _"A mon maestro Pietro._ - - "Sing me a new song. The world is clear and all the skies - rejoice." - - - -"Ariadne, I love you," he wrote to Cosima Wagner. - -Overbeck started immediately. He found Nietzsche, watched over by his -hosts, ploughing the piano with his elbow, singing and crying his -Dionysian glory. He was able to bring him back to Basle, and introduce -him, without too painful a scene, into a hospital, where his mother -came to seek him. - -He lived another ten years. The first of them were cruel, the later -more kindly; sometimes even there seemed to be hope. He would recall -his work. - -"Have I not written fine books?" he would say. - -He was shown portraits of Wagner. - -"Him," he would say, "I loved much." - -These returns of consciousness might have been frightful; it seems that -they were not. One day his sister, as she sat by his side, could not -restrain her tears. - -"Lisbeth," he said, "why do you cry? Are we not happy?" - -The ruined intellect could not be saved, but the uncorrupted soul kept -sweet and charming, open to pure impressions. - -One day a young man who was occupied with the publication of his work -was out with him on his short walk. Nietzsche perceived a little girl -at the side of the road, and was charmed. He went up to her, stopped, -and with a hand drew back the hair which lay low on her forehead; then, -contemplating the frank face with a smile, he said: - -"Is it not the picture of innocence?" - -Friedrich Nietzsche died at Weimar on the 25th of August, 1900. - - -[1] In French in the text. - -[2] Morals are free in the pensions on the Mediterranean, and no doubt -we are unaware of all the episodes of Friedrich Nietzsche's life. But -this reservation must be made. According to evidence which we have -been able to gather, his manner of life, in the Engadine, never gave -occasion for the least gossip. On the contrary he seems, we are told, -to have avoided young women. - -[3] "I am very happy," wrote Taine, "that my articles on Napoleon -have struck you as true, and nothing can more exactly sum up my -impression than the two German words which you use: _Unmensch_ und -_Uebermensch._"--Letter of July 12, 1887. - - - - - INDEX - - A - - About - Æschylus; Greece of - Alexander - Alsace - Anaxagoras - _Anti-Christ, The_ - Apollo, "Leader of States" - Apollonian Spirit, The, Nietzsche's definition of - Aquila - Arabs, The - Ariadne - Aristotle - Athens - Attica - - B - - Bacchus-Dionysus - Bach, Nietzsche's love of - Bahnsen - Bashkirtseff, Marie - Basle, Nietzsche's appointment at University of; - Nietzsche's life at - Baudelaire, C. - Baumbrach, Professor - Baumgarten, Marie - Bavaria - Bayreuth, theatre of; - Wagner at; - destiny of; - foundation stone of theatre laid; - financial difficulties at; - Nietzsche's appeal on its behalf; - rehearsals at; - its "beautiful souls"; - its journal condemns _Human, All Too Human_; - _Parsifal_ played at; - "6,000 feet above Bayreuth" - Beethoven; - Nietzsche studies life of; - centenary of - Bellini - Bergamo - Berlin; Nietzsche in; - parliamentary intrigues of - Berlioz - _Bestimmung der Oper, Die_ - _Beyond Good and Evil_ - _Birth of Tragedy_; - its Wagnerian tendency - Bismarck - Bizet - Blanc, Louis - Bohemia - Bonn, University of; - Nietzsche at - Bordeau, Jean - Borgia, Cæsar - Bourget, Paul - Brahms - Brandes, Georges; - appreciates _Genealogy of Morals_; - lectures on Nietzsche - Brenner, A. - Brockhaus, Madame - Bucharest - Büchner - Bülow, Hans von - Burckhardt, Jacob Nietzsche's confidant at Basle; - shares Nietzsche's grief - Byron; Nietzsche's love of - - C - - Carlsruhe - _Carmen_ - _Case of Wagner, The_; - publication of - Catholicism, Nietzsche's detestation of - Cavour - Chamfort - Chiavari - Chillon, Nietzsche at - _Choephores_ of Æschylus, The - Chopin - Christianity, Wagner and; and Nietzsche's spiritual life - Cimarosa - Cloisters, Nietzsche's project of - Coire - Cologne - Columbus, Christopher - Cook, Captain - Copenhagen, University of - Corsica - Culture of _The Renaissance in Italy_ The - - D - - d'Agoult, Madame - Dante - Darwinism - _Dawn of Day, The_; - failure of; - preface to - De Brossé - Democritus - Descartes - Deussen, Paul, Nietzsche's college comrade; - Nietzsche's letter to on becoming Professor at Basle - Diogenes Laertius - Dionysian Songs - Dionysos; Nietzsche as - Dönhoff, Countess - Don Quixote - Dresden - Dühring; _The Value of Life_ - Dürer - - E - - - _Ecce Homo_ - Eckermann - _Educational Institutions, The Future of_ - Emerson, R. W. - Empedocles - Engadine, The, Nietzsche in - Eternal Return, The, Nietzsche's conception of; - his horror of; - abandons the idea; - re-adopts it; - Euripides - Europe, condition of; - tragical era of; - Europe, Goethe, and Napoleon - - F - - Faust, _quoted_ - Feuerbach - Fichte - Finland - Flaubert, Gustave - Flimms - Florence - Förster, marriage with Nietzsche's sister - France, Nietzsche in - Franco-German War - Frankfurt, Peace of - Frederick the Great - Frederick II - Frederick William of Prussia - Freiligrath - Friburg - Friedrich von Hohenstaufen - Friendship, Nietzsche's view of - Fritzsch - Froeschwüler - Fuchs, Carl - - G - - Galiani, Abbé, The - Garda, Lake of, Nietzsche at - Garibaldi - Gast, Peter; - with Nietzsche at Venice; - aids Nietzsche; - Nietzsche's correspondence with - Gautier - Gavarri - _Gay Science, The_; - preface to - _Genealogy of Morals,_ - Geneva - Genoa, Nietzsche at - Germany, Nietzsche's hopes of; - its "delirium of conceit after Metz,"; - fails to celebrate Beethoven; - Nietzsche abandons; - the mission of the German Empire; - the "two Germanys"; - Nietzsche's projected mission to; - Nietzsche "spits out lava on"; - Nietzsche's summons to - the "sombre Empire,"; - defaming the Germans - Gersdorff, Baron von, Nietzsche's correspondence with - Gobineau, Count - Goethe; - quoted by Mazzini; - to inspire Nietzsche's great work - Goldmarck - Goncourts, Journal of the - Greek poets, Nietzsche's love of - Greeks, The, genius of; - Germanic Hellenism; - the Homeric problem; - Goethe, Wagner, and; - and tragedy; - Nietzsche's lectures on æsthetic of Greek tragedy; - the Greek genius and war; - of the sixth and seventh centuries; - the two Greeces; - tragic philosophers of - Grunewald - Guyau - - H - - Hamburg - Hartmann, E. von - Hasse - Hegel - Heidelberg, Union of - Heinze - Helen - _Hellenism and Pessimism_ - Heraclitus - Herodotus - Herzen - Hildebrant, Karl - Hölderlin, read by Nietzsche; - life and work of; - similarity to Nietzsche - Homer - _Human, All Too Human_ - Humboldt - Hymn to Friendship - Hymn to Life - Hymn to Solitude - - I - - _Iliad, The_ - Italy - - J - - Java, Earthquake of - Jena - Judic - - K - - Kant - Kief - Kiel - Klingenbrunn - Köselitz, _see_ Peter Gast - - L - - Lange - Lanzky, Paul - with Nietzsche at Nice; - with Nietzsche at Ruta - _Laws of Manu, The_ - Leipsic; - Nietzsche at - Lenbach - Leopardi - Leskien - Lessing - _Letters of an Heretical esthete, The_ - Liszt - _Litterarisches Centralblatt, The_ - _Lohengrin,_ - _L'Ombra di Venezia_ - London - Louis of Bavaria; Wagner writes - treatise for; saves Bayreuth - Louvre, The, burning of - Lucerne - Lucretius - Lugano; Nietzsche among the Germans at - Lunéville - Luther; Nietzsche's Lutheranism - - M - - Maggiori, Lake - Manfred - Mannheim - Marasoff, Madame - Marguerite of Savoy - Marienbad - Maupassant, Guy de - Mazzini, meeting with Nietzsche; - Nietzsche's veneration for - Meiningen - _Meistersingers,_ - Mendelssohn - Mentone - Mérimée, Prosper - Messina - Metz - Meyer, Milly - Meysenbug, Fräulein von; - her _Memoirs of an Idealist_; - correspondence with Nietzsche; - at Naples with Nietzsche - Michelet - Mill, S. - _Miscellaneous Opinions and Apothegms_ - Moltke, von - Monaco - Mond, G. - Montaigne - Mozart - Mucius Scævola - Munich - _Music of the Future, The_ - - N - - Nancy - Naples, Nietzsche at - Napoleon the Great - Napoleon III - Naumburg-sur-Saale, Nietzsche's home at; - provinciality of; - Nietzsche spends Christmas of 1873 at - Newton - New York - _Nibelungen, The,_ - Nice, Nietzsche at - Nietzki, Counts - Nietzsche, Frau, goes to Naumburg with her family - Nietzsche's tender letters to - Nietzsche, Friedrich, birth of; - death of his father and brother; - his journal; - residence at Naumburg; - desires to become a clergyman; - first composition; - enters college at Naumburg; - writes history of childhood; - scholarship at Pforta; life at Pforta; - weakening of religious faith; - question of his future; - address to his masters and comrades; - leaves Pforta; enters University of Bonn; - his new life; fights a duel; - dislike of Bonn; studies philology; - love of the Greek poets; - letter to his sister on Christianity; - flies from Bonn; completes his studies at Leipsic; - reads _The World as Will end Representation_; - researches on Theognis of Megara; - as Prussian patriot; second year at Leipsic; - enthusiasm for art and the classics; style; - friendship with Rohde; - as conscript; falls from horse; - opinion of German politics; - discovery of Wagner; - meeting with Wagner; - appointed Professor at Basle; - visits Wagner at Triebschen; - lectures on the "Homeric Problem"; - his admiration for Wagner; - _The Birth of Tragedy_; Hellenism; - aids Wagner; on Socrates; - serves as ambulancer in Franco-Prussian War; - illness of; distrust of Prussian power; - returns to Basle and sees Wagner again; - project of a cloister; on War; - at Lugano; his horror at the burning of the Louvre; - Wagner's guest; publishes _The Birth of Tragedy,_; - ill-success of the book; farewell to Triebschen; - at Bayreuth; wishes to fight for Wagner; - and Fräulein von Meysenbug; - in North Italy; at Splügen; - return to Basle; how to found a culture; - holidays at Naumburg; - philosophical formulas; - goes to Bayreuth; attack on Strauss; - his friendship with Gersdorff; - _Thoughts Out of Season_; - proposed series of twenty pamphlets; - begins to distrust Wagnerian art; - _Schopenhauer as Educator_; - visits the Wagners with his sister; - depression; serious illness; - with his sister at Basle; - at Chülon; - letter to Fräulein von Meysenbug on her - _Memoirs of an Idealist_; - his book on Wagner; - absence from Bayreuth rehearsals; - at Bayreuth festivals; - his distress; failure of eyesight; - visit to Fräulein von Meysenbug at Naples; - sees Wagner at Sorrento; isolates himself; - life at Naples; - his veneration for Mazzini; leaves Naples; - takes cure at Rosenlaui; - friendship with Rée; - _Human, All Too Human,_; - impression of _Parsifal,_; - his grief over Wagner; - resigns professorship; - awaits death in Engadine; - returns to Naumburg; - terrible sufferings; - first visit to Venice and convalescence; at Genoa; - publication of _The Dawn of Day,_; at Sils-Maria; - conceives the Eternal Return at Sils-Maria; - the discovery of _Carmen_; - Nietzsche and Lou Salomé; - his quarrel with Rée and Lou; - the poem of Zarathustra; - the principle of the Superman; - attempts to complete his poem; - friendship with Heinrich von Stein; - joined by Lanzky at Nice; - failure to win Stein from Wagnerism; - abandons his lyrical work; - says farewell to his sister at Naumburg; - at Nice; - _Beyond Good and Evil,_; - his kindness to Peter Gast; - visits Rohde at Leipsic; - visits his mother at Naumburg; - returns to the Engadine; - the _Will to Power,_; - Taine's letter of praise; - prefaces to the _Dawn of Day_ and _The Gay Science_; - returns to Nice; as a critic; - _The Genealogy of Morals,_; - returns to Venice; - relations with Rohde; - Georges Brandes's letter; - design for new work; - arrival at Turin; - reads _The Laws of Manu_; - attack on Wagner; - the _Antichrist_: - _Ecce Homo_; - his opinion of Strindberg; - loss of reason; death of - Nietzsche, Lisbeth (Förster-Nietzsche); - with Nietzsche at Naumburg; - with Nietzsche at Lugano; - with Nietzsche at Flimms; - with Nietzsche at Basle; - accompanies Nietzsche to Engadine; - marriage of; - reconciliation with Nietzsche; - correspondence with Nietzsche - _Nietzsche contra Wagner_ - Novalis - - O - - O., Madame - _Odyssey_ - Œdipus - _Of the State and Religion,_ Wagner's - _Old Faith and the New, The,_ - Overbeck, Professor - - P - - Paraguay - Paris - Parmenides - _Parsifal_ - Pascal - Pforta - Philadelphia - _Philology of the Future, The_ - _Philosophers of Tragic Greece, The_ - Pindar - Plato - Plutarch - Pobles - Poland - Portofino - Port Royal des Champs - Prague - Prussia - Puccini - Pythagoras - Pythagoreans, The - - R - - Rapallo - Recoaro - _Reden Eines Hoffenden_ - Rée, Paul; - rupture with Nietzsche - Renan - _Rhinegold, The_ - Ritschl, Nietzsche's master at Bonn - _Rivista Europa, La_ - Röcken - Röder, Madame - Rohde, Erwin, friendship with Nietzsche; - spends holiday with Nietzsche; - project of travel with Nietzsche; - defends _Birth of Tragedy_; - appointed Professor at Leipsic; - quarrel with Nietzsche; - correspondence with Nietzsche - Rolph - Rome; Nietzsche at, - Romundt; - enters orders - Rosenlaui - Rossaro - Rossini - Rousseau - Russians, The, Nietzsche's view of - Ruten - - S - - Sadowa, Battle of - Sainte-Beuve - Salis-Marschlins, Fräulein von - Salomé, Lou; - poems to Nietzsche; - her description of Nietzsche; - quarrel with Nietzsche - San Remo - Santa Margherita - Schaffler, Herr - Schelling - Schiller - Schlegels, The - Schmeitzner, Herr - Schopenhauer, Arthur, - _The World as Will and Representation_; - Nietzsche's admiration of; - truest philosopher - _Schopenhauer as Educator,_ - Schubert - Schumann - Schüre, E., his description of Nietzsche - Scott, Walter - Sedan - Semiramis - Seydlitz, Baron von - Seydlitz, Irene von - Sicily - _Siegfried,_ "Idyll" performed at Triebschen - Sienna - Sils-Maria, Nietzsche at - Simonides - Singer, Herr - Slavery, Nietzsche's view of its necessity - Socialism - Socrates; - Nietzsche's condemnation of; - Socratic Greece; - ranked above Æschylus - Sophocles - Sparta - Spencer, Herbert - Spinoza - Spiteler, Carl - Splügen - State, The - Stendhal - Stein, H. von; - mission to Nietzsche; - visit to Sils; - death of - Steinabad, Nietzsche at - "Stellar Friendship" - Stewart, B. - Strassbourg; University of - Strauss, D. - Stresa - Strindberg, A. - Sulzer - Superman, The - Surlei - _Sutta Nipata, The,_ - "Swiss, The Loyal" - Switzerland - - T - - Tacitus - Taine, H., letter to Nietzsche - Tautenberg - Tempel Leborecht, meeting with Nietzsche - Thales - Theognis of Megara - Theseus - _Thoughts out of Season_ - Thucydides - _Thus Spake Zarathustra_; - publication of; second part of; - Nietzsche's attempt to complete poem; - its perfection of language; failure with public; - the fourth section - _Traveller and his Shadow, The_ - Treischke, Herr, German historian - Triebschen, Wagner at; - Christmas festivals at; - changed life of; - Wagner's departure from - _Tristan_ - Tübingen - Turgenieff, Ivan - Turin; Nietzsche at - Tuscany - _Twilight of the Gods_ - _Twilight of the Idols_ - - U - - Universities, prestige of in Germany - _Use and Abuse of History, The_ - - V - - V. P., Madame - _Valkyrie, The,_ Nietzsche's criticism of - Vallambrosa - Vauvenargues - Venice; - Nietzsche's visit to; - Nietzsche with Gast at - Vibac - Voltaire - - W - - Wagner, Cosima; - Nietzsche and - Wagner, Richard, Nietzsche's discovery - of and acquaintance with; - and Schopenhauer; at Triebschen; - his treatise _On the State and Religion_; - interest in Nietzsche and correspondence; - the "poet of Germany"; - and the Beethoven centenary; - and the German victories; - buffoonery of; - advises Nietzsche on his work; - his intimates; - visits Mannheim with Nietzsche; - Nietzsche spends Christmas with; - praises _The Birth of Tragedy_; - leaves Triebschen; - lays foundation-stone of Bayreuth Theatre; - his distrust; the Wagnerian cult; - renewed intimacy with Nietzsche; - mention of; - difficulties at Bayreuth; - as an "art"; - his liking for Nietzsche; - relations with Nietzsche; - letters to Nietzsche; - Nietzsche's book on; - his neo-Christianity; - triumphs of; at Sorrento; - and _Human, All Too Human_; - references to; - death of; - further references to; - _Case of Wagner_; - _Nietzsche contra Wagner_ - Wahnfried - War, Nietzsche's views on - Weimar; Nietzsche's death at - _Will to Power, The_ - Willamowitz - William, Emperor - Windisch - Wissenberg - Wolf, F. A. - _World as Will and Representation, The_ - Wörth - - Z - - Zarathustra; - "the lawgiver" - Zarncke - Zimmern, Miss - Zoagli - Zola - Zürich, Nietzsche at - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The life of Friedrich Nietzsche, by Daniel Halévy - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE *** - -***** This file should be named 53620-0.txt or 53620-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/2/53620/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The life of Friedrich Nietzsche - -Author: Daniel Halévy - -Translator: J. M. Hone - -Release Date: November 28, 2016 [EBook #53620] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive. - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> -<h1>THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE</h1> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>DANIEL HALÉVY</h2> - -<h4>TRANSLATED BY J. M. MONE</h4> - -<h5>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY</h5> - -<h4>T. M. KETTLE, M.P.</h4> - - -<h5>T. FISCHER UNWIN</h5> - -<h5>LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE</h5> -<h5>LEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20</h5> - -<h5>1911</h5> -<hr class="full" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> -<img src="images/hale_life.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr /> -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 15%;"> -<a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a> <span class="tabnum"> 7</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> -CHILDHOOD <span class="tabnum"> 9</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> - -YEARS OF YOUTH <span class="tabnum"> 40</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER<br />—TRIEBSCHEN <span class="tabnum"> 71</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER<br />—BAYREUTH <span class="tabnum">127</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> - -CRISIS AND CONVALESCENCE <span class="tabnum">195</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> - -THE LABOUR OF ZARATHUSTRA <span class="tabnum">229</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> - -THE FINAL SOLITUDE <span class="tabnum">298</span><br /> -<br /> -<a href="#INDEX">INDEX</a> <span class="tabnum">363</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></h4> - - -<p>The duel between Nietzsche and civilisation is long since over; -and that high poet and calamitous philosopher is now to be judged -as he appears in the serene atmosphere of history, which—need it -be said?—he infinitely despised. The crowd, the common herd, the -multitude—which he also despised—has recorded its verdict with its -usual generosity to the dead, and that verdict happens to be an ample -revenge. It has dismissed Nietzsche's ideas in order to praise his -images. It has conceded him in literature a brilliant success, and -has treated his philosophy as fundamental nonsense of the sort that -calls for no response except a shrug of the shoulders. The immoralist -who sought to shatter all the Tables of all the Laws, and to achieve -a Transvaluation of all Values, ends by filling a page in <i>Die Ernte</i> -and other Anthologies for the Young. And in certifying his style to -be that of a rare and real master the "crowd" has followed a true -instinct. More than Schopenhauer, more even than Goethe, Nietzsche is -accounted by the critics of his country to have taught German prose -to speak, as Falstaff says, like a man o' this world. The ungainly -sentences, many-jointed as a dragon's tail, became short, definite, -arrowy. "We must 'Mediterraneanise' German music," he wrote to Peter -Gast, and in fact he did indisputably "Mediterraneanise" the style of -German literature. That edged and glittering speech of his owed much to -his acknowledged masters, La Rochefoucauld,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> Voltaire, and Stendhal, -the lapidaries of French. But it was something very intimately his -own; he was abundantly dowered with the insight of malice, and malice -always writes briefly and well. It has not the time to be obscure. -Nietzsche had this perfection of utterance, but a far richer range and -volume. He was a poet by grace divine, and a true Romantic for all the -acid he dropped on Romanticism; the life of his soul was an incessant -creative surge of images, metaphors, symbolisms, mythologies. These two -tendencies produced as their natural issue that gnomic and aphoristic -tongue which sneers, preaches, prophesies, chants, intoxicates and -dances through the pages of <i>Also Sprach Zarathustra.</i> German critics -have applied to Nietzsche, and with even greater fitness, Heine's -characterisation of Schiller: "With him thought celebrates its orgies. -Abstract ideas, crowned with vine-leaves, brandish the thyrsus and -dance like bacchantes; they are drunken reflections." Of many aspects -of his own personality Nietzsche may have thought not wisely but too -well; but in this regard it appears that he did not exaggerate himself. -"After Luther and Goethe," he wrote to Rohde, "a third step remained -to be taken.... I have the idea that with <i>Zarathustra</i> I have brought -the German language to its point of perfection." The German world of -letters has not said No! to a claim so proud as to seem mere vanity. -Friedrich Nietzsche holds a safe, and even a supreme position in the -history of literature.</p> - -<p>What is to be said of his place in the history of philosophy? Höffding -allows him a high "symptomatic value," but only that. His work has -the merit of a drama, in which the contradictions of modern thought, -vibrant with passion, clash and crash together in a tumultuous -conflict which, unhappily, has no issue. M. Alfred Fouillée, who has -contrasted him with Guyau—that noblest of "modern" thinkers—in his -book <i>Nietzsche et<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> l'immoralisme,</i> draws out a table of antitheses, -and cancelling denials against affirmations, arrives at a result that -looks remarkably like zero. Nietzsche in truth was a man of ecstasies -and intuitions, rather than of consequent thought. He troubled little -to purge himself of self-contradictions, as became a writer whose first -word had been a vehement assault on that Socratic rationalism which, -as he believed, had withered up the vital abundance of Greece. His -instincts were those of an oracle, a mystagogue; and mystagogues do -not argue. Heinrich von Stein, in styling his first book an <i>Essay in -Lyrical Philosophy,</i> spoke in terms of his master's mind.</p> - -<p>With Nietzsche reason deliberately abdicates, bearing with it into -exile its categories of good and evil, cause and end. Schopenhauer -had suggested to him that the true key to the riddle of existence was -not intellect but will; behind the mask of phenomena the illuminated -spirit discerned not a Contriving but a Striving, a monstrous Will, -blind as old Œdipus, yearning like him through blood and anguish -to a possible redemption. But in time he cast off Schopenhauer and -pessimism. The Will to Live he "construed in an optimistic sense," and -it darkened into that other mystery, at once vaguer and more malign, -the Will to Power. The problem remained to find a ground for optimism, -and a clue to the harmony, to the recurring rhythms and patterns of -reality as we know it. So was born what is perhaps the characteristic -idea of Nietzsche. The universe is not a phenomenon of Will, it is a -phenomenon of Art. "In my preface to the book on Wagner I had already," -wrote Nietzsche in 1886, "presented art, and not morality, as the -essentially metaphysical activity of man: in the course of the present -book I reproduce in many forms the singular proposition that the world -is only to be justified as an artistic phenomenon." For the optimist -<i>quand-même</i> this interpretation has many advantages. Cruelty, sorrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> -and disaster need no longer dismay him; since a world may at the same -time be a very bad world and a very good tragedy. "It may be," the -lyricist, turned philosopher, wrote later, "that my <i>Zarathustra</i> ought -to be classified under the rubric Music." These two passages, with a -hundred others, determine the atmosphere into which we are introduced. -We have to deal not with a thinker who expounds a system, but with a -prophet who dispenses a Revelation: Nietzsche is not the apologist but -the mystic of Neo-Paganism.</p> - -<p>Coming to closer range, we may dismiss at once a great part of his -polemical writings. They were a sort of perpetual bonfire in which -from time to time Nietzsche burned what he had once adored, and much -more beside. They bear witness to that proud independence, one may -almost say that savage isolation, which was the native climate of his -soul. <i>Niemandem war er Untertan,</i> "he was no man's man," he wrote -of Schopenhauer, and that iron phrase expressed his own ideal and -practice. His brochures of abuse he regarded as a mode, though an -unhappy mode, of liberation. He had little love of them himself in his -creative moments: he desired with a fierce desire to rid his soul of -hatreds and negatives and rise to a golden affirmation. "I have been -a fighter," declares Zarathustra, "only that I might one day have my -hands free to bless." "In dying I would offer men the richest of my -gifts. It was from the sun I learned that, from the sun who when he -sets is so rich; out of his inexhaustible riches he flings gold into -the sea, so that the poorest fishermen row with golden oars." It is -not the Will to Power that speaks here, but that older and more sacred -fountain of civilisation, the Will to Love. But if Nietzsche had -that inspiration one is tempted to say of him what he said of Renan: -He is never so dangerous as when he loves. The truth is that he had -the genius of belittlement. It was the other side of his vanity, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -vanity so monstrous that it seems from the first to have eaten of the -insane root. There is no humour, no integral view of things, behind -his critical work. It is sick with subjectivity. And yet Zarathustra -in a temper is, by times, far more amusing than sinister. What could -be better than some of the characterisations in <i>A Psychologist's -Hedge-School,</i> "Seneca, the Toreador of virtue ... Rousseau, or the -return to nature <i>in impuris naturalibus.</i> ... John Stuart Mill; or -wounding lucidity"? But when, in this mood, he gnaws and nibbles about -the sanctuaries of life; when he tells us that the true Fall of Man -was the Redemption, that the two most noxious corruptions known to -history are Christianity and alcohol; when he presses his anti-Feminism -to a point that goes beyond even the gross German tradition of which -Luther's <i>Table Talk</i> is a monument, the best that one can do for him -is to remember that he often took too much chloral. It may be that -to the circles in these countries to whom the cult of Nietzscheanism -appeals, this strain of his thought also appeals. This particular -music is not played on many trumpets, but every Superman ought to know -it. And he ought to know further that Zarathustra, being brave, gibes -not only at St. Paul, but even at Herbert Spencer, and has no more -toleration for the gospel according to Marx than for that according to -Matthew.</p> - -<p>What is the gospel of this ambiguous prophet? It is, he himself -declares, a long "Memento vivere." His own experience taught him -that the characteristic of life, in its highest moments, is to -be unimaginably alive. From a mere process it becomes a sudden -intoxication, and on the psychology of that intoxication, which is the -psychology of the artist and also that of the lover and the saint, -he has written pages which are a wonder of pure light. From this -standpoint he criticises justly the mechanical theory of adjustments -in which there is nothing to adjust,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> of adaptations in which there -is nothing to adapt, the whole <i>ab extra</i> interpretation of life -popularised by Darwin, Spencer, and the English school in general. The -living unit is more than a mere node or knot in a tangle of natural -selection; it is a fountain of force, of spontaneity, constantly -overflowing. "The general aspect of life is not indigence and famine, -but on the contrary richness, opulence, even an absurd prodigality." -To live is for Nietzsche, as for the Scholastics, to be a centre of -self-movement. With the Pragmatists he asserts the primacy of life over -thought. But this tension of consciousness, this Dionysiac drunkenness, -is only a foundation, it is not yet a philosophy. Philosophy, or at all -events moral philosophy, begins with the discovery that there are other -people in the world. Your ego, thus drunken and expansive, collides -sharply with another ego, equally drunken and expansive, and it becomes -at once necessary to frame a code of relations, a rule of the road. Is -this force and spontaneity of the individual to flow out towards others -through the channel of domination or through that of love?</p> - -<p>Zarathustra had marched with the Germans over prostrate France, he had -said in his Gargantuan egoism: "If there were Gods, how could I bear -not to be a God? <i>Consequently</i> there are no Gods." If the Goths and -the Vandals had read Hegelian metaphysics, observes Fouillée, they -would have answered this question as Nietzsche answered it. The living -unit accumulates a superabundance of force in order to impose its power -on others ... <i>an andern Macht auslassen.</i> The Will to Power is the -sole source of human activity. The strong must live as warriors and -conquerors, adopting as their three cardinal virtues pride, pleasure, -and the love of domination. Pity is the deepest of corruptions; it but -doubles pain, adding to the pain of him who suffers the pain of him -who pities. If you have helped any one, you must wash the hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> that -helped him, for they are unclean. The Crusaders brought home but one -treasure, the formula, namely, of the Assassins, "Nothing is true, -everything is permitted." Science is mere illusionism; but the warrior, -knowing how to be hard—for that is the new law—will impose his own -arbitrary values on all things, and will make life so good that he will -desire it to be indefinitely repeated. The earth, thus disciplined, -will bring forth the Superman, who, having danced out his day, will -disappear to be recreated by the Eternal Return. Thus spake Zarathustra.</p> - -<p>The greatest difficulty that one experiences before such a doctrine -as this is the difficulty of taking it seriously. Nietzsche, who had -a tendency to believe that every reminiscence was an inspiration, -is by no means as original as he thought. After all, there were -sceptics, optimists, tyrants and poets before Zarathustra. The "common -herd" may not be given to discussing ethical dualism, but it knows -that since society began there have been two laws, one for the rich -and another for the poor. Scepticism as to the objectivity of human -values, moral and intellectual, is no new heresy, but a tradition as -old as science, and almost as old as faith. The notion of an Eternal -Return, crystallised by Plato from a mist of earlier speculation, had -exercised many modern thinkers; one has only to name Heine, Blanqui, -von Naegeli, Guyau, Dostoievsky. The Romantics had, at the beginning -of Nietzsche's century, as Schlegel wrote, "transcended all the ends -of life," and, fascinated with the idea of mere power, had filled the -imagination of Europe with seas and storms that raged for the sole -sake of raging. There was no Scholastic compiler of a text-book on -Ethics but had "posed morality as a problem," and asked in his first -<i>quæstio</i> whether there was a science of good and evil. The Superman -so passionately announced by Nietzsche had already been created by -the enigmatic and dilettante fancy of Renan. The name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> itself was -as old as Goethe, though it is to be recalled that not Goethe but -Mephistopheles applies it to Faust as a sneer and a temptation. -Zarathustra is not a prophet nor even a pioneer; he brings but a new -mode of speech, his triumphant and dancing phrase sweeps into its -whirl a thousand ghosts and phantoms. And what is to be said of the -doctrine itself? Perhaps the most adequate answer to Nietzsche, on the -plane of his own ideas, is that of Guyau. Both were poets, strayed -into philosophy, both seize upon life as the key to all reality. But -Guyau finds in the spontaneous outflow of individual life, itself the -spring of sociability, fraternity, love. An organism is more perfect -as it is more sociable, there can be no full intensity without wide -expansion. "There is a certain generosity inseparable from existence, -without which one withers up interiorly and dies. The mind must flower; -morality, altruism are the flower of human life." The reduction of -all consciousness to one mode—in Nietzsche the Will to Power—is -neither new nor difficult. La Rochefoucauld tracked down behind all -motives the motive of self-interest, and modern simplifiers have amused -themselves by analysing passion into unconscious thought. The soul, -as St. Augustine tells us, is all in every part; and since the same -self is always present, it is obviously possible in some fashion or -another to translate any one mood of its life into any other. But such -suppression of the finer details, while interesting as a tour de force, -is not scientific psychology. The Will to Power is not sufficiently -definite to serve the turn of a moralist or even an immoralist. Power -is of many kinds. Love hath its victories not less renowned than -hate. Had Cleopatra's nose been shorter, history would, says Pascal, -have been different, and in the phrase of the French <i>chanson</i> there -are often more conquests ambushed in the hair of Delilah than in -that of Samson. Nietzsche himself perceived that it was necessary to -establish a hierarchy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> values as between different manifestations -of "power," but this <i>Umwerthung aller Werthe</i> was never either -achieved or achievable. The evangel of Zarathustra dissolves into mere -sound and fury for lack of what the Court of Equity calls reasonable -particularity. Most notable is this in regard to the two laws. Am I a -Superman—or rather a potential ancestor of the Superman, for in this -case hereditary privilege runs backwards—with the right to found my -life on pride, pleasure, and the love of power, or am I a slave with no -right except to remain a slave? The test is astral, and even nebulous. -If you can compel the stars to circle about you as their centre, if you -have a chaos in you and are about to beget a dancing star, then you -are of the seed of the Superman. Unhappily, the only people who could -seriously entertain such an estimate of themselves are the very wealthy -and the very mad. Zarathustra derides the mob in order to flatter the -snob; he is <i>malgré lui</i> the casuist of the idle rich, the courtier of -international finance.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche was an optimist. It was a paradox of courage. There -is nothing nobler or more valiant in the history of thought than his -refusal to let the sun be dimmed by the mist of his own suffering. "No -invalid has the right to be a pessimist." "Let them beware: the years -in which my vitality sank to its minimum were those in which I ceased -to be a pessimist." That is magnificent, but it is not philosophy. If -Nietzsche by his insomnia and his wounded eyes is pledged on the point -of honour to optimism, is not Schopenhauer by his fixed income and -excellent digestion similarly pledged to pessimism? But Zarathustra's -optimism is not merely positive, it is ecstatic: to express its fulness -he creates the formula of the Eternal Return. He claps his hands and -cries "Encore!" to life. He is drunken with joy as men are in the -taverns with corn and the grape, and he shouts "The same again!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<p>This Eternal Return is presented to us as a conclusion of mathematical -physics and spectrum analysis. St. Thomas Aquinas taught, following -Aristotle, that the stars were composed of a substance nobler than -that of earth, not subject to birth or death, and so immune from -corruption. But Fraunhofer and his successors have, with their prisms -and telescopes, discovered in the stars the same eighty-one or -eighty-two elements which constitute the earth. Since then we have -but a finite number of indestructible elements and forces, and an -infinite space and time—or at least a space and time to which we can -conceive no limits—it must follow that the same combinations will -repeat themselves incessantly both in space and time. There is not only -an Eternal Return, but an Infinite Reduplication. And if thought, as -Nietzsche assumed, is only the phosphorescence accompanying certain -arrangements of matter, the same conscious life must also repeat -itself. One does not stay to discuss this phantasy of mathematics -except to say that whoever was entitled to entertain it Zarathustra -was not. If science is, as he held, a mere linked illusionism, how can -it give so absolute a prophecy? To Nietzsche it was no conclusion, but -a reminiscence from Greek speculation which came to him, disguised in -the flame of an inspiration, under that pyramidal rock near Sorlei, -"six thousand feet above men and time." He accepted it because it -seemed to him the supreme formula of optimism. His mind was incited -to it perhaps by that sombre passage in which his rejected master, -Schopenhauer, declares that if you were to knock on the graves, with -power to summon forth the dead to rise up and live their lives again, -none would answer to your call. Christianity agrees with Schopenhauer; -for though Christianity is an optimism, it is founded on pessimism. It -is an optimism poised on a centre that does not lie within the walls -of space and time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> Christianity called a new world into existence to -redress the balance of the old; and were this old world all—a closed -circuit, a rounded whole—Zarathustra might dance and chant through all -its Campo Santos without finding more than a very few to rise up and -follow him.</p> - -<p>The practical consequences to which Nietzsche was led were in his own -phrase inactual, out of time and out of season. Zarathustra is, by a -natural kinship, a prophet of the Anarchists, but he hated Anarchism; -by a strange transformation, the genius of a certain school of -Socialists, but he despised Socialism. German officials in Poland may -find in him a veritable Oppressors' Handbook; he danced through the -streets at the victory over France, but he derided the German State -and Empire as a new idol. He contemned women, but praised indissoluble -marriage. He preached pleasure, but celebrated chastity in a noble -hymn. He was all for authority and inequality, "a Joseph de Maistre," -says Fouillée, "who believes in the hangman without believing in the -Pope"; but when he looked at a criminal on trial he acquitted everybody -except only the judge. He denounced Bismarck and the Kaiser for being -too democratic; he regarded Science, too, as disastrously democratic, -because it subjected all phenomena, great and small, to the same -uniform laws. Will was his god, but he saw the world under the aspect -of a Mahometan determinism, and submitted himself to a resignation, -an adoption of the hostile ways of existence, an <i>amor fati</i> which a -Stoic might think extravagant. A German proletarian, full of German -prejudices, he thought himself Polish and noble, and boasted of being a -<i>sans-patrie</i> and a "good European." Pity, generosity, self-immolation, -the whole ritual of civilisation, were condemned by Zarathustra and -practised by him. In brief, Nietzsche never rose above a sort of -philosophical cinematograph; he had the glitter but never the hard -definiteness of the diamond which he chose as his symbol.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<p>But it would be very superficial to suppose that a thought so -passionate could be altogether unreal. Zarathustra is a counter-poison -to sentimentalism, that worst ailment of our day. He brings a sort of -ethical strychnine which taken in large doses is fatal, but in small -doses is an incomparable tonic. He disturbed many who were woefully at -ease in Zion, and was a poet of the heroic life. Germany, so apt to -lose herself in the jungle of scholarship, needed to be reminded that -erudition exists for the sake of life and not life for the sake of -erudition. To literature, when he wrote in conformity with its settled -and common tradition, he gave great chants of courage, loneliness -and friendship. In M. Halévy's book, founded on that of Madame -Förster-Nietzsche, we have in English for the first time a portrait -of him in the intimacies of his life and thought. It exhibits him as -better than his gospel, a hundred times better than most of those -disturbers of civilisation who call themselves his disciples.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">T. M. KETTLE</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3>The Life of Friedrich Nietzsche</h3> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h5> - - -<h4>CHILDHOOD</h4> - - -<p>Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche, a young clergyman of the Lutheran Church, -came of an ecclesiastical family. His father and his grandfather had -taught theology. His wife was the daughter and the granddaughter of -clergy-men. Ignoring modern thought and all the agitations and desires -of his time, he followed the safe path of the double tradition, -which had at once been revealed by God to the faithful and indicated -by Princes to their subjects. His superiors thought highly of him. -Frederick William IV., King of Prussia, condescended to take him under -his wing, and he might have hoped for a fine career had he not suffered -from headaches and nerves. As it was, rest became essential.</p> - -<p>He asked for a country parish, and that of Röcken was confided to -him. The situation of this poor village, whose little houses uprear -themselves in a vast plain on the confines of Prussia and Saxony, was -melancholy; but Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche liked the place, for solitude was -acceptable to him. He was a great musician, and often, at the fall of -day, would shut himself up in his church and improvise upon the rustic -organ whilst the good folk of his parish stood without and listened in -admiration.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> - -<p>The pastor and his young wife waited four years for their first child, -who was born on October 15,1844, the King's birthday. The coincidence -increased the father's joy. "O month of October, blessed month," he -wrote in his church register, "ever have you overwhelmed me with joy. -But of all the joys that you have brought me, this is the deepest, -the most magnificent: I baptize my first child.... My son, Friedrich -Wilhelm, such shall be your name on earth in remembrance of the royal -benefactor whose birthday is yours."</p> - -<p>The child soon had a brother, then a sister. There are women who -remember Friedrich's infancy, and those quickly passing days of joy -round the Nietzsches' hearth. Friedrich was slow in learning to speak. -He looked at everything with grave eyes, and kept silent. At the age -of two and a half he spoke his first word. The pastor liked his silent -boy, and was glad to have him as a companion of his walks. Never did -Friedrich Nietzsche forget the sound of distant bells ringing over the -immense pool-strewn plain as he wandered with his father, his hand -nestled in that strong hand.</p> - -<p>Misfortune came very quickly. In August, 1848, Nietzsche's father fell -from the top of the stone steps leading up to his door, and struck his -head violently against the edge of one of them. The shock brought on a -terrible attack, or, perhaps, for one cannot be certain, only hastened -its approach: Karl-Ludwig Nietzsche lost his reason, and, after a year -of aberration and decline, died. Friedrich Nietzsche was then four -years old. The incidents of this tragic time made a deep impression -upon his mind: night-alarms, the weeping in the house, the terrors of -the closed chamber, the silence, the utter abandonment to woe; the -tolling bells, the hymns, the funeral sermons; the coffin engulfed -beneath the flagstones of the church. His understanding of such things -had come too early, and he was shaken by it. His nights were troubled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> -with visions, and he had a presentiment of some early disaster. He had -dreams—here is the naïve recital that he makes in his fourteenth year:</p> - -<p>"When one despoils a tree of its crown it withers and the birds desert -its branches. Our family had been despoiled of its crown; joy departed -from our hearts, and a profound sadness entered into possession of us. -And our wounds were but closing when they were painfully reopened. -About this time I had a dream in which I heard mournful organ music, -as if at a burial. And as I was trying to discover the cause of this -playing, a tomb opened sharply and my father appeared, clad in his -shroud. He crossed the church, and returned with a little child in his -arms. The tomb opened again, my father disappeared into it, and the -stone swung back to its place. At once the wail of the organ ceased, -and I awoke. The next morning I told the dream to my dear mother. A -short while after, my little brother Joseph fell ill, and after a -nervous crisis of a few hours, he died. Our grief was terrible. My -dream was exactly fulfilled, for the little body was placed in the arms -of its father. After this double calamity the Lord in heaven was our -sole consolation. It was towards the end of January, 1850."</p> - -<p>In the spring of this year the pastor's widow left the parochial house -and went to reside in the neighbouring town of Naumburg-zur-Saale, -where she was near her own people. Relations of hers lived in the -neighbouring countryside. Her husband's mother and his sister came to -stay with her in the small house, to which the children, who at first -had been disconsolate, gradually grew accustomed.</p> - -<p>Naumburg was a royal city, favoured by the Hohenzollerns and devoted -to their dynasty. A bourgeois society of officials and pastors, with -some officers' families and a few country squires, lived within the -grass-grown ramparts, pierced with five gates, which were closed every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> -evening. Their existence was grave and measured. The bell of the -metropolitan church, flinging its chimes across the little town, awoke -it, sent it to sleep, assembled it to State and religious festivals. -As a small boy Nietzsche was himself grave and measured. His instincts -were in accord with the customs of Naumburg, and his active soul was -quick to discover the beauties of his new life. He admired the military -parades, the religious services with organ and choir, the majestic -anniversary celebrations. He found himself deeply moved every year by -the return of Christmas. His birthday stirred him less deeply, but was -a source of great joy.</p> - -<p>"My birthday being also that of our beloved King," he wrote, "I am -awakened that day by military music. I receive my presents: the -ceremony is quickly over, and we go together to the church. Although -the sermon is not directed to my special benefit, I choose the best of -it and apply it to myself. Afterwards we all assemble at the school to -celebrate the great festival.... Before the break-up a fine patriotic -chorus is sung, and the director <i>concilium dimisit.</i> Then comes for -me the best moment of all; my friends arrive and we spend a happy day -together."</p> - -<p>Friedrich did not forget his father, and wished to follow his example -and to become, like all the men of his race, a pastor, one of the -elect who live near God and speak in His name. He could conceive no -higher vocation, nor any more congenial to himself. Young as he was, -he had an exacting and meticulous conscience. The slightest scolding -pained him, and he liked to take his own line, unaided. Whenever he -felt a scruple he would retire to some obscure hiding-place and examine -his conscience, nor would he resume his play with his sister until -he had deliberately arrived at a condemnation or a justification of -his conduct. One day, when it was raining in torrents, his mother saw -him coming back from school with slow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> regular steps, although he -was without umbrella or cloak. She called him, and he came sedately -up to her. "We have always been told not to run in the streets," he -explained. His companions nicknamed him "the little pastor," and -listened, in respectful silence, when he read them aloud a chapter from -the Bible.</p> - -<p>He was careful of his prestige. "When one is master of oneself," he -gravely taught his sister, "then one is master of the whole world." He -was proud, and believed in the nobility of the Nietzsches. This was -a family legend which his grandmother loved to relate, and of which -he and his sister Lisbeth used to dream. Remote ancestors of theirs, -Counts, Nietzski by name, had lived in Poland. During the Reformation -they defied persecution, and broke with the Catholic Church. Thereafter -they wandered wretchedly for three years, outcasts, pursued from -village to village. With them was their son, who had been born on -the eve of their flight. The mother nursed this child with devoted -constancy, and he thus acquired, in spite of all ordeals, wonderful -health, lived to a great age, and transmitted to his line the double -virtue of strength and longevity.</p> - -<p>Friedrich was never tired of listening to so fine an adventure. Often -also he asked to be told the history of the Poles. The election of the -King by the Nobles, gathered together on horseback in the midst of a -great plain, and the right which the meanest of them had to oppose his -veto to the will of all the rest, struck him with admiration: he had no -doubt that this race was the greatest in the world. "A Count Nietzski -must not lie," he declared to his sister. Indeed, the passions and the -powerful desires which, thirty or forty years later, were to inspire -his work, already animated this child with the bulging forehead and the -big eyes, whom unhappy women loved to fold in their tender caresses. -When he was nine years old his tastes widened, and music was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> revealed -to him by a chorus from Handel, heard at church. He studied the piano. -He improvised, he accompanied himself in chanting the Bible, and his -mother, remembering her husband's fate, was troubled, for he, too, like -the child, used to play and improvise on the organ at Röcken.</p> - -<p>The instinct of creation—an instinct that was already -tyrannical—seized hold of him; he composed melodies, fantasies, a -succession of mazurkas, dedicated to his Polish ancestors. He wrote -verses, and mother, grandmother, aunts, sister, received, every -anniversary, a poem with his music. Games themselves became the -pretext for work. He drew up didactic treatises, containing rules -and advice, which he handed over to his comrades. First he taught -them architecture; then, in 1854, during the siege of Sebastopol, -the capture of which made him weep—for he loved all Slavs and hated -the revolutionary French—he studied ballistics and the defence of -fortified places. At the same time, he and two friends founded a -theatre of arts, in which they played dramas of antiquity and of -primitive civilisations, of which he was the author: <i>The Gods of -Olympus</i> and an <i>Orkadal.</i></p> - -<p>He left school to enter college at Naumburg. There he showed from the -first such conspicuous ability that his professors advised his mother -to send him to study in a superior institute. The poor woman hesitated. -She would have liked to keep her child near her.</p> - -<p>This was in 1858. Nietzsche's vacation was of rather a serious -character. He spent it as usual in the village of Pobles, under the -shadow of wooded hills, on the banks of the fresh and lazy Saale, in -which each morning he bathed. His maternal grandparents had him and his -sister Lisbeth to stay with them. He was happy, with a heaped abundance -of life; but his mind was preoccupied with the uncertainty of his -future.</p> - -<p>Adolescence was coming; and perhaps he was about to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> leave his own -people and change his friends and his home. With some anxiety he -foresaw the new course which his life was going to follow. He called -to mind his boyish past, all the long years of childhood, at which one -should not smile—thirteen years filled with the earliest affections -and the earliest sorrows, with the first proud hopes of an ambitious -soul, with the splendid discovery of music and poetry. Memories came, -numerous, vivid, and touching: Nietzsche, who had a lyric soul, -suddenly became, as it were, intoxicated with himself.</p> - -<p>He took up his pen, and in twelve days the history of his childhood was -written. He was happy when he had finished.</p> - -<p>"Now I have brought my first notebook to a proper end," he writes, "and -I am content with my work. I have written with the greatest pleasure -and without a moment's fatigue. It is a grand thing to pass in review -before one the course of one's first years, and to follow there the -development of one's soul. I have sincerely recounted all the truth -without poetry, without literary ornamentation. That I may write many -more like it!"</p> - -<p>Four little verses followed:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Ein Spiegel ist das Leben<br /> -In ihm sich zu erkennen,<br /> -Möcht' ich das erste nennen<br /> -Wonach wir nur auch streben."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /> -</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Life is a mirror. I might say that the recognition of -ourselves in it is the first object to which we all strive."</p></div> - -<hr /> - -<p>The school of Pforta is situated five miles from Naumburg, on the bank -of the Saale. Ever since a Germany has existed there have been teachers -and scholars in Pforta. Some Cistercian monks, come in the twelfth -century from the Latin West to convert the Slavs, obtained possession -of this property, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> lies along both banks of the river. They built -the high walls which surround it, the houses, the church, and founded -a tradition which is not extinct. In the sixteenth century they were -expelled by the Saxon princes, but their school was continued, and -their methods conserved by the Lutherans who were installed in their -place.</p> - -<p>"The children shall be brought up to the religious life," says an -instruction of 1540. "For six years they shall exercise themselves -in the knowledge of letters, and in the disciplines of virtue." The -pupils were kept separated from their families, cloistered with their -teachers. The school had its fixed rules and customs: anything in the -shape of easy manners was forbidden. There was a certain, established -hierarchy: the oldest scholars had charge of the youngest and each -master was the tutor of twenty pupils. Religion, Hebrew, Greek, and -Latin were taught. In this old monastery German rigour, the spirit -of humanism, and the ethic of Protestantism formed a singular and -deep-rooted alliance, a fruitful type of life and sentiment. Many -distinguished men owed their education to Pforta: Novalis, the -Schlegels, Fichte—Fichte, philosopher, educator, patriot, and chief -glory of the school. Nietzsche had long desired to study at Pforta, and -in October, 1858, a scholarship being awarded him, he left his family -to enter the school.</p> - -<p>He now disappears for a time from our ken. An heroic and boyish -anecdote is the sole memory of his first year. The story of Mucius -Scævola seemed an improbable one to some of his comrades; they denied -it: "No man would have the courage to put his hand in fire," opined -these young critics. Nietzsche did not deign to answer, but seized from -the stove a flaming coal and placed it in the palm of his hand. He -always carried the mark of this burn, the more visible because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> he had -taken care to keep in repair and enlarge so glorious a wound by letting -melted wax run over it.</p> - -<p>Assuredly, he did not easily endure this new life of his. He played -little, not caring to attach himself to unfamiliar people; moreover, -the tender customs of the maternal hearth had ill prepared him for -the disciplines of Pforta. He only went out once a week, on Sunday -afternoon. Then his mother, his sister, and two Naumburg friends of his -came to meet him at the school door, and spent the day with him in a -neighbouring inn.</p> - -<p>In July, 1859, Nietzsche had a month's liberty. The holidays of pupils -at Pforta were never longer. He revisited the people and places that he -liked, and made a rapid voyage to Jena and Weimar. For a year he had -written only what he had to write as a task, but now the inspiration -and delight of the pen returned to him, and he composed out of his -impressions of summer a sentimental fantasy which is not barren of -pathos.</p> - -<p>"The sun has already set," he writes, "when we leave the dark -enclosure. Behind us, the sky is bathed in gold; above us, there is -a glow of rosy clouds: before us, we see the town, lying at rest -under the gentle breeze of evening. Ah, Wilhelm, I say to my friend, -is there any joy greater than that of wandering together across the -world? Oh, pleasure of friendship, faithful friendship: oh, breath -of this magnificent summer night, perfume of flowers, and redness of -evening! Do you not feel your thoughts soar upward, to perch like the -jubilant lark on a throne of golden clouds? The wonder of these evening -landscapes! It is my own life that unveils itself to me. So are my -own days arranged: some shut within the dark penumbra, others lifted -up in the air of liberty! At this moment our ears are pierced by a -shrill cry: it comes from the madhouse which stands near our path. Our -hands join in a tighter clasp, as if some evil genius had touched us -with a sweep of menacing wings. Go from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> us, ye powers of Evil! Even -in this beautiful world there are unhappy souls! But what, then, is -unhappiness?"</p> - -<p>At the beginning of August he returned to Pforta, as sadly as he had -gone there in the first instance. He could not accept the brusque -constraint of the place, and, being unable to cease thinking of -himself, he kept for some weeks an intimate diary which shows us how he -employed his time and what his humours were from one day to another. -We find, to begin with, certain courageous maxims against ennui, given -him by his professor and transcribed; then a recital of his studies, -his distractions, his readings, and the crises which depress him. -The poetic soul of the child now resists, now resigns itself to its -impressions and bows painfully beneath a discipline. When emotion -urges him he abandons prose, which is not musical enough to express -his melancholy. Rhythm and rhyme appear; under an inspiration he makes -a few verses, a quatrain, a sextain; but he does not seek after the -lyrical impulse, nor hold to it; he merely follows it when it rises -within him; and, as soon as it weakens, prose takes its place, as in a -Shakesperean dialogue.</p> - -<p>Life at Pforta was, however, brightened by hours of simple and youthful -joy. The pupils went out for walks, sang in chorus, bathed. Nietzsche -took part in these delights, and related them. When the heat was too -heavy, the life of the water replaced the life of study. The two -hundred scholars would go down to the river, timing their steps to the -tunes they had struck up. They would throw themselves into the water, -following the current without upsetting the order of their ranks, -accomplish a swim long enough to try, and yet elate, the youngest -members of the party, then clamber up the bank at their master's -whistle, put on their uniforms, which a ferry boat had convoyed in -their wake; then, still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> singing, still in good order, would march back -to their work and to the old school. "It is absolutely stunning," says -Nietzsche in effect.</p> - -<p>So time went by, and the end of August came. The Journal is silent for -eight days, then for six, then for a whole month. When he reopens his -notebook, it is to bring it to an end.</p> - -<p>"Since the day on which I began this Journal my state of mind has -completely changed. Then we were in the green abundance of the -late summer: now, alas! we are in the late autumn. Then I was an -<i>unter-tertianer</i> (a lower form boy); now I am in a higher form.... My -birthday has come and gone, and I am older—time passes like the rose -of spring, and pleasure like the foam of the brook.</p> - -<p>"At this moment I feel myself seized by an extraordinary desire for -knowledge, for universal culture. That impulse comes to me from -Humboldt, whom I have just read. May it prove as lasting as my love for -poetry!"</p> - -<p>He now mapped out a vast programme of study in which geology, botany, -and astronomy were combined with readings in the Latin stylists, -Hebrew, military science, and all the techniques. "And above all -things," said he, "Religion, the foundation of all knowledge. Great is -the domain of knowledge, <i>infinite</i> the search after truth."</p> - -<p>A winter and spring-time sped away while the boy worked on. But now -came his second holidays, then the third return to school; it was when -autumn had denuded the great oaks on the estate of Pforta. Friedrich -Nietzsche is seventeen years of age, and he is sad. Too long had -he imposed upon himself a painful obedience; he had read Schiller, -Hölderlin, Byron; he dreams of the Gods of Greece, and of the sombre -Manfred, that all-powerful magician who, weary of his omnipotence, -vainly sought repose in the death which his art had conquered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> What -cares Nietzsche for the lessons of his professors? He meditates on the -lines of the romantic poet:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Sorrow is knowledge; they who know the most<br /> -Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth,<br /> -The tree of knowledge is not that of life."<br /> -</p> - -<p>He grows weary at last. He longs to escape from the routine of classes, -from tasks which absorb his whole life. He would listen to his soul -alone, and thus come to understand the dreams with which his mind -overflows. He confides in his mother and his sister, and declares that -his projects for the future have changed. The thought of the University -bores him; he now wants to be not a professor, but a musician. His -mother reasons with him, and succeeds in appeasing him a little. But -her success is not for long. The death of a master to whom he had -been attached completes his confusion of mind. He neglects his work, -isolates himself, and meditates.</p> - -<p>He writes. From his earliest childhood he had had the instinct of -the phrase and the word, the instinct of visible thought. He writes -incessantly, and not one shade of his unrest has remained hidden -from us. He surveys the vast universe of romanticism and of science, -sombre, restless, and loveless. This monstrous vision fascinates and -frightens him. The pious ways of his boyhood still hold him under their -influence; he reproaches himself for his inclinations towards audacity -and negation, as if for sins. He strives to retain his religious faith, -which is dwindling day by day. He does not break with it sharply in the -French and Catholic manner, but slowly and fearfully detaches himself; -slowly, because he venerates those dogmas or symbols which stand for -all his past, for his memories of his home and his father; fearfully, -because he knows that in renouncing the old security he will find not -a new security to take its place, but a surging throng of problems.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> -Weighing the supreme gravity of the choice imposed on him, he meditates:</p> - -<p>"Such an enterprise," he writes, "is the work not of a few weeks but -of a life-time: can it be that, armed solely with the results of a -boy's reflections, any one will venture to destroy the authority of two -thousand years, guaranteed as it is by the deepest thinkers of all the -centuries? Can it be that with his own mere fancies and rudiments of -thought any one will venture to thrust aside from him all that anguish -and benediction of religion with which history is profoundly penetrated?</p> - -<p>"To decide at a stroke those philosophical problems about which human -thought has maintained an unending war for many thousands of years; -to revolutionise beliefs which, accepted by men of the weightiest -authority, first lifted man up to the level of true humanity; to link -up Philosophy with the natural sciences, without as much as knowing the -general results of the one or the others; and finally to derive from -those natural sciences a system of reality, when the mind has not yet -grasped either the unity of universal history, or the most essential -principles—it is a masterpiece of rashness....</p> - -<p>"What then is humanity? We hardly know: one stage in a whole, one -period in a process of Becoming, an arbitrary production of God? Is -man aught else than a stone evolved through the intermediary worlds of -flora and fauna? Is he from this time forward a completed being, or -what has history in reserve for him? Is this eternal Becoming to have -no end? What are the springs of this great clock? They are hidden; but -however long be the duration of that vast hour which we call history, -they are at every moment the same. The crises are inscribed on the -dial-face: the hand moves on, and when it has reached the twelfth hour, -it begins another series: it inaugurates a period in the history of -humanity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - -<p>"To risk oneself, without guide or compass, on the ocean of doubt is -for a young brain loss and madness; most adventurers on it are broken -by the storms, few indeed are the discoverers of new lands.... All our -philosophy has very often appeared to me a very Tower of Babel.... -It has as its desolating result an infinite disturbance of popular -thought; we must expect a vast upheaval when the multitude discovers -that all Christianity is founded on gratuitous affirmations. The -existence of God, immortality, the authority of the Bible, Revelation, -will for ever be problems. I have attempted to deny everything: ah, to -destroy is easy, but to construct!"</p> - -<p>What a marvellous instinct appears in this page! Friedrich Nietzsche -poses the precise questions which are later to occupy his thought and -gives a foretaste of the energetic answers with which he is to trouble -men's souls: humanity is a nothing, an arbitrary production of God; -an absurd Becoming impels it towards recommencements without a term, -towards eternal returns; all sovereignty is referable in the last -instance to force, and force is blind, following only chance....</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche affirms nothing: he disapproves of rapid -conclusions on grave subjects, and, so long as he is hesitant, likes -to abstain from them. But when he commits himself, it will be with a -whole heart. Meanwhile he stays his thought. But, despite himself, it -overflows at times in its effort towards expression. "Very often," he -writes, "submission to the will of God and humility are but a mantle -thrown over the cowardice and pusillanimity which we experience at -the moment when we ought to face our destiny with courage." All the -Nietzschean ethics, all the Nietzschean heroism are included in these -few words.</p> - -<p>We have named the authors who were Nietzsche's favourites at this -time: Schiller, Byron, Hölderlin—of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> these he preferred Hölderlin, -then so little known. He had discovered him, as one discovers, at a -glance, a friend in a crowd. It was a singular encounter. The life of -this child, now scarcely begun, was to resemble the life of the poet -who had just died. Hölderlin, the son of a clergyman, had wished to -follow his father's vocation. In 1780 he is studying theology at the -University of Tübingen with comrades whose names are Hegel, Sendling. -He ceases to believe. He comes to know Rousseau, Goethe, Schiller, and -the intoxication of romanticism. He loves the mystery of nature, and -the lucid mind of Greece; he loves them together, and dreams of uniting -their beauties in a German work. He is poor, and has to live the hard -life of a needy poet. As a teacher, he endures the ennui of wealthy -houses in which he is despised generally, and once is loved too much—a -brief rapture that ends in distress. He returns to his native village, -for its air and its people are pleasant to him. He works, writes at -his leisure, but as it pains him to live at the expense of his own -family, he goes away again. He has some of his verses published; but -the public shows no taste for those fine poems in which the genius -of an unknown German calls up the Gods of Olympus to people the deep -forests of Suabia and the Rhineland. The unhappy Hölderlin dreams of -vaster creations, but goes no farther than a dream: Germany is a world -in itself, and Greece is another; the inspiration of a Goethe is needed -to unite them, and to fix in eternal words the triumph of Faust, the -ravisher of Helen. Hölderlin writes fragments of a poem in prose: his -hero is a young Greek, who laments over the ruin of his race and, -frail forerunner of Zarathustra, calls for the rebirth of a valorous -humanity. He composes three scenes of a tragedy, taking for his hero -Empedocles, tyrant of Agrigentum, poet, philosopher, haughty inspirer -of the multitude, a Greek isolated among the Greeks by reason<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> of his -very greatness, a magician, who, possessing all nature, wearies of the -satisfactions which one life can offer, retires to the summit of Etna, -sends away his family, his friends, his appealing people, and flings -himself, one evening, at sunset, into the crater.</p> - -<p>The work is full of power; but Hölderlin abandons it. His melancholy -enfeebles and exalts him. He wishes to leave Germany where he has -suffered so much, and to free his relatives from the inconvenience of -his presence. Employment is offered to him in France, at Bordeaux, and -he disappears. Six months later he returns home sunburnt and in rags. -He is questioned, but he does not reply. Enquiries are made and it is, -with great difficulty, discovered that he had crossed France on foot -under the August sun. His mind is gone, swallowed up in a torpor which -is to last for forty years. He dies in 1843, a few months before the -birth of Nietzsche. It might please a Platonist to think that the same -genius passed from one body to the other. Surely the same German soul, -romantic by nature, and classic in aspiration, broken at length by its -desires, animated these two men, and predestined them to the same end. -One seems to surprise across the tenor of their lives the blind labour -of the race, which, pursuing its monotonous bent, sends into the world, -from century to century, like children for like ordeals.</p> - -<p>That year, at the approach of summer, Nietzsche suffered severely from -his head and eyes. The malady was uncertain in its nature, but possibly -had its origin in the nerves. His holidays were spoilt. But he arranged -to be able to stay at Naumburg until the end of August, and the joys of -a prolonged leisure compensated him for previous vexations.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>He returned to Pforta in a wholesome frame of mind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> He had not -resolved his doubts but he had explored them, and could without -wronging himself become once more a laborious student. He was careful -not to interrupt his reading, which was immense. From month to month -he sent punctually to his two friends at Naumburg, poems, pieces of -dance and song music, essays in criticism and philosophy. But these -occupations were not allowed to interrupt his work as a student. Under -the direction of excellent masters, he studied the languages and the -literatures of antiquity.</p> - -<p>He would have been happy, had not the pressing questions of the future -and of a profession begun to torment him.</p> - -<p>"I am much preoccupied with the problem of my future," he wrote to his -mother in May, 1862. "Many reasons, external and internal, make it -appear to me troubled and uncertain. Doubtless I believe myself to be -capable of success in whatever province I select. But strength fails -me to put aside so many of the diverse objects which interest me. What -shall I study? No idea of a decision presents itself to my mind, and -yet with myself alone it lies to reflect and to make my choice. What -is certain is that whatever I study I shall be eager to probe to its -depths. But this fact only renders the choice more difficult, since -the question is to discover the pursuit to which one can give one's -whole self. And how often they deceive us, these hopes of ours! How -quickly one is put on the wrong track by a momentary predilection, -a family tradition, a desire! To choose one's profession is to make -one in a game of <i>lotto,</i> in which there are many blanks, but only -very few prizes! At this moment my position is uncomfortable. I have -dispersed my interest over so many provinces that if I were to satisfy -my tastes I would certainly become a very learned man, but only with -great difficulty a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> professional animal. My task is to destroy many of -my present tastes, that is clear, and, by the same process, to acquire -new ones. But which are the unfortunates that I am to throw overboard? -Precisely my dearest children, maybe!..."</p> - -<p>His last holidays slipped by into the beginning of his last year. -Nietzsche returned without vexation to the old school which he was soon -to leave. The rules had grown lighter, and he had a room to himself, -and certain liberties. He went out to dine on the invitation of this or -that professor, and thus, even in the monastery, he had his first taste -of the pleasures of the world. At the house of one of his tutors he met -a charming girl; he saw her again, and, for the first time in his life, -fell in love. For some days his dreams were all of the books which he -wished to lend her, of the music which he wished to play with her. His -emotion was delicious. But the girl left Pforta, and Nietzsche returned -to his work. The <i>Banquet</i> of Plato, the tragedies of Æschylus, were -his last diversions before he gave himself up to the ordinary round -of tasks. Sometimes he sat down to the piano just before the supper -hour; two comrades who were to remain his friends, Gersdorff and Paul -Deussen, listening while he played them Beethoven or Schumann, or -improvised.</p> - -<p>Poetry is always by him. If he has the slightest leisure, if there is -a delay of some hours in his work, the lyricist reappears. On Easter -morning he leaves school, returns home, goes straight to his room, -where he is alone, dreams for a moment; then finds himself assailed by -a multitude of impressions. He writes with intense pleasure after his -long privation. And is not the page, which we transcribe here, worthy -of Zarathustra?</p> - -<p>"Here I am on the evening of Easter Day, seated at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> my fire, enveloped -in a dressing-gown. Outside a fine rain is falling. All about me -is solitude. A sheet of white paper lies on my table; I look at it -in a muse, rolling my pen between my fingers, embarrassed by the -inextricable multitude of subjects, feelings, thoughts which press -forward and ask to be written. Some of them clamour and make a great -tumult: they are young and eager for life. Others gesture and struggle -there also: they are old thoughts, well matured, well clarified; -like elderly gentlemen they regard with displeasure the mêlée of -young bloods. This struggle between an old world and a new it is that -determines our mood; and the state of combat, the victory of these, -the weakness of those, we call at any moment our state of mind, our -<i>Stimmung....</i> Often when I play the spy on my thoughts and feelings, -and study them in religious silence, I am impressed as with the hum and -ferment of savage factions, the air shudders and is torn across as if a -thought or an eagle had shot up towards the sun.</p> - -<p>"Combat is the food which gives strength to the soul. The soul has -skill to pluck out of battle sweet and glorious fruits. Impelled by the -desire for fresh nutriment, it destroys; it struggles fiercely—but -how gentle it can be when it allures the adversary, gathers it close -against itself, and wholly assimilates it.</p> - -<p>"That impression, which at this moment makes all your pleasure or all -your pain, will, it may be, slip off in an instant, being the mere -drapery of an impression still more profound, will disappear before -something older and higher. Thus our impressions grave themselves -deeper and deeper on our souls, being ever unique, incomparable, -unspeakably young, swift as the instant that brought them.</p> - -<p>"At this moment I am thinking of certain people whom I have loved; -their names, their faces pass before my mind. I do not mean that -in fact their natures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> become continually more profound and more -beautiful; but it is at least true that each of these reminiscences, -when I recover it, leads me on to some acuter impression, for -the mind cannot endure to return to a level which it has already -passed; it has a need of constant expansion. I salute you, dear -impressions, marvellous undulations of an agitated soul. You are as -numerous as Nature, but more grandiose, for you increase and strive -perpetually—the plant, on the contrary, gives out to-day the same -perfume that it gave out on the day of creation. I no longer love -now as I loved a few weeks ago, and I find myself in a different -disposition at this moment from that in which I was when I took up this -pen."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche returned to Pforta to undergo his last examinations. He all -but failed to pass; and, indeed, in mathematics he did not obtain -the required number of marks. But the professors, overlooking this -inadequacy, granted him his diploma. He left his old school, and left -it with pain. His mind easily adjusted itself to the places where it -lived, and clung with equal force to happy memories and to melancholy -impressions.</p> - -<p>The break-up of the school was a prescribed ceremony. The assembled -students prayed together for the last time; then those who were about -to leave presented their masters with a written testimony of gratitude. -Friedrich Nietzsche's letter moves one by its pathetic and solemn -accent. First he addresses himself to God: "To Him who has given -me all, my first thanks. What offering should I bring Him, if not -the warm gratitude of my heart, confident of His love? It is He who -has permitted me to live this glorious hour of my life. May He, the -All-Bountiful, continue to watch over me." Then he thanks the King, -"through whose goodness I entered this school...; him and my country -I hope one day to honour. Such is my resolve." Then he speaks to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> -venerated masters, to his dear comrades, "and particularly to you, my -dear friends: what shall I say to you at the instant of parting? I -understand how it is that the plant when torn from the soil which has -nourished it can only take root slowly and with difficulty in a foreign -soil. Shall I be able to disaccustom myself to you? Shall I be able to -accustom myself to another environment? Adieu!"</p> - -<p>These long effusions were not enough, and he wrote, for himself alone, -certain lines in which they are repeated:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"So be it—it is the way of the world:<br /> -Let life deal with me as with so many others:<br /> -They set forth, their frail skiff is shattered,<br /> -And no man can tell us the spot where it sank.<br /> -<br /> -Adieu, adieu! the ship's bell calls me,<br /> -And as I linger the shipmaster urges me on.<br /> -And now to confront bravely waves, storms, reefs.<br /> -Adieu, adieu!..."<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h5> - - - -<h4>YEARS OF YOUTH</h4> - - - -<p>In the middle of October, 1862, Nietzsche left Naumburg for the -University of Bonn, accompanied by Paul Deussen, his comrade, and a -cousin of the latter. The young people did not hurry. They made a -halt on the banks of the Rhine. They were gay, a little irresponsible -even, in their sudden enjoyment of complete liberty. Paul Deussen, -to-day a professor at the University of Kiel, tells us of those days of -exuberant laughter with all the satisfaction of a very good bourgeois -who brightens up at the memory of his far-off pranks.</p> - -<p>The three friends rode on horseback about the country-side. -Nietzsche—perhaps he had appreciated too highly the beer supplied -at the neighbouring inn—was less interested in the beauty of the -landscape than in the long ears of his mount. He measured them -carefully. "It's a donkey," he affirmed. "No," replied Deussen and the -other friend, "it's a horse." Nietzsche measured again and maintained, -with praiseworthy firmness: "It's a donkey." They came back at the -fall of day. They shouted, perorated, and generally scandalised the -little town. Nietzsche warbled love songs, and girls, drawn by the -noise to their windows and half-hidden behind curtains, peeped out at -the cavalcade. Finally an honest citizen, who had left his house for -the express<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> purpose, cried shame on the roisterers, and, not without -threats, put them back on the road to their inn.</p> - -<p>The three friends installed themselves at Bonn. The Universities -enjoyed at that time an uncommon prestige. They alone had remained -free, and maintained in a divided Germany a powerful life in a weakly -body. They had their history, which was glorious, and their legends, -which were more glorious still. Every one knew how the young scholars -of Leipsic, of Berlin, of Jena, of Heidelberg, and of Bonn, kindled -by the exhortations of their teachers, had armed themselves against -Napoleon for the salvation of the German race; every one also knew that -these valiant fellows had fought, and were still fighting, against -despots and priests to lay the foundations of German liberty; and -the nation loved these grave professors, these tumultuous youths who -represented the Fatherland in its most noble aspect, the laborious -Fatherland, armed for labour. There was not a small boy but dreamt -of his student years as the finest time of his life; there was not a -tender girl but dreamt of some pure and noble student; and among all -the dreams of dreamy Germany there was none more alluring than that -of the Universities. She was infinitely proud of those illustrious -schools of knowledge, bravery, virtue, and joy. Their arrival at Bonn -moved Nietzsche and his comrades very deeply. "I arrived at Bonn," -says one of the numerous essays in which Nietzsche recounts his own -life to himself, "with the proud sense of an inexhaustibly rich future -before me." He was conscious of his power, and impatient to make -the acquaintance of his contemporaries, with whom, and on whom, his -thoughts were to work.</p> - -<p>Most of the students at Bonn lived grouped together in associations. -Nietzsche hesitated a little before following this custom. But from -fear of too unsociable a withdrawal should he not impose upon himself -some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> obligation of comradeship, he joined one of these Vereine. "It -was only after ripe reflection that I took this step, which, given -my character, seemed to me an almost necessary one," he wrote to his -friend Gersdorff.</p> - -<p>During the next few weeks he allowed himself to be absorbed by the -course of his new life. No doubt he never touched either beer or -tobacco. But learned discussions; boatings upon the river; hours of -light-headedness in the riverside inns, and, at evening on the way -home, improvised choruses—Nietzsche made the best of these simple -pleasures. He even wished to fight a duel so that he might become a -"finished" student, and, lacking an enemy, chose for his adversary an -agreeable comrade. "I am new this year," said he to him, "and I want to -fight a duel. I rather like you. Let us fight." "Willingly," said the -other. Nietzsche received a rapier thrust.</p> - -<p>It was impossible that such a life should content him for long. The -mood of infantile gaiety soon passed away. At the beginning of December -he withdrew a little from this life. Disquiet was again gaining on him. -The festival of Christmas and that of the New Year, passed far from -his own people, were causes of sadness. A letter to his mother lets us -divine his emotion:</p> - -<p>"I like anniversaries, the feast of St. Sylvester or birthdays. To them -we owe those hours in which the soul, brought to a pause, discovers -a fragment of its own existence. No doubt it is in our own power to -experience such moments more frequently; but we allow ourselves too -few. They favour the birth of decisive resolutions. At such moments it -is my custom to take up again the manuscripts, the letters, of the year -that has just gone by, and to write for myself alone the reflections -which come to me. During<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> an hour or two, one is, as it were, raised -above time, drawn out of one's own existence. One acquires a view of -the past that is brief and certain, one resolves with a more valiant -and a firmer heart to strike forward on the road once more. And when -good wishes and family benedictions fall like soft rain on the soul's -intents—Ah! that is fine!"</p> - -<p>Of the reflections written by the young student "for himself alone" -we possess some traces. He reproaches himself for wasted hours, and -decides upon a more austere and concentrated life. Nevertheless, when -the time came for him to break with his companions, he hesitated. -They were somewhat coarse, it is true, but yet young and brave, like -himself. Should he keep in with them? A delicate fear troubled him; -he might, as the result of long indulgence, accustom himself to their -low way of living, and so come to feel it less acutely. "Habit is a -powerful force," he wrote to his friend Gersdorff. "One has already -lost much when one has lost one's instinctive distrust of the evil -things which present themselves in daily life." He took a third course, -a very difficult course, and decided that he would talk frankly to his -friends, that he would try to exercise an influence on them, to ennoble -their lives. Thus he would commence the apostolate which he dreamed of -extending one day over the whole of Germany. He proposed therefore a -reform of the rules of the association; he called for the suppression, -or at least for a reduction, of those smoking and drinking parties -which provoked his disgust.</p> - -<p>The proposal met with no success. The preacher was silenced, and set -aside. Nietzsche, prompt with sarcasm, avenged himself with words which -did not win him any love. Then he knew the worst of solitudes, the -solitude of the vanquished. He had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> retired from the world; he had -been asked to leave it. He was proud, and his stay at Bonn became a -misery. He worked energetically and joylessly. He studied philology, -which did not interest him. It was an exercise which he had taken up -to discipline his mind, to correct his tendencies towards a vague -mysticism and dispersion of thought. But it pleased him in no way, -this minute analysis of Greek texts the sudden beauty of which he felt -by instinct. Ritschl, his master in philology, dissuaded him from any -other study. "If you wish to become a strong man," he said, "acquire -a speciality." Nietzsche obeyed. He renounced the idea, which he had -entertained, of making a deep study of theology. In December he had -composed some melodies: now he decided that he would not, for a whole -year, allow himself the enjoyment of so vain a pleasure; he wished to -submit, and to break himself in to ennui. He was recompensed for his -pains, and was able to write a work which Ritschl commended for its -rigour and sagacity.</p> - -<p>A poor pleasure! It was thought that Nietzsche needed. He listened -to the talk of the students. Some repeated without any ardour of -conviction the formulas of Hegel, of Fichte, of Schelling: those great -systems had lost all their power to stimulate. Others, preferring -the positive sciences, read the materialistic treatises of Vogt and -Büchner. Nietzsche read these treatises, but did not re-read them. -He was a poet and had need of lyricism, intuition, and mystery; he -could not be contented with the clear and cold world of science. Those -same young people, who called themselves materialists, also called -themselves democrats; they vaunted the humanitarian philosophy of -Feuerbach; but Nietzsche was again too much of a poet and, by education -or by temperament, too much of an aristocrat to interest himself in -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> politics of the masses. He conceived beauty, virtue, force, -heroism, as desirable ends, and he desired them for himself. But he had -never desired a happy life, a smooth and comfortable life: therefore -he could not interest himself in men's happiness, in the poor ideal of -moderate joy and moderate suffering.</p> - -<p>Little satisfied as he was by all the tendencies of his contemporaries, -what joy could he experience? Repelled by a base politics, a nerveless -metaphysics, a narrow science, whither could he direct his mind? -Certainly he had his clear and well-marked preferences. He was certain -of his tastes. He loved the Greek poets, he loved Bach, Beethoven, -Byron. But what was the drift of his own thought?</p> - -<p>He had no answer to the problems of life, and now in his twenty-first, -as formerly in his seventeenth year, preferring silence to uncertain -speech, he kept himself under a discipline of silence. In his writings, -his letters, his conversation, he was always on his guard. His friend -Deussen suggested that prayer has no real virtue, and only gives to -the mind an illusory confidence. "That is one of the asininities of -Feuerbach," Nietzsche replied tartly. The same Deussen was speaking -on another occasion of the <i>Life of Jesus</i> which Strauss had just -published in a new edition, and expressing approval of the sense -of the book. Nietzsche refused to pronounce upon the subject. "The -question is important," said he. "If you sacrifice Jesus, you must also -sacrifice God." These words would seem to show that Nietzsche was still -attached to Christianity. A letter addressed to his sister removes this -impression. The young girl, who had remained a believer, wrote to him: -"One must always seek truth at the most painful side of things. Now -one does not believe in the Christian mysteries without difficulty. -Therefore the Christian mysteries are true." She at once received from -her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> brother a reply which betrays, by the harshness of its language, -the unhappy condition of his soul.</p> - -<p>"Do you think that it is really so difficult to receive and accept all -the beliefs in which we have been brought up, which little by little -have struck deep roots into our lives, which are held as true by all -our own kith and kin, and a vast multitude of other excellent people, -and which, whether they be true or not, do assuredly console and -elevate humanity? Do you think that such acceptance is more difficult -than a struggle against the whole mass of one's habits, waged in doubt -and loneliness, and darkened by every kind of spiritual depression, nay -more, by remorse; a struggle which leaves a man often in despair, but -always loyal to his eternal quest, the discovery of the new paths that -lead to the True, the Beautiful, and the Good?</p> - -<p>"What will be the end of it all? Shall we recover those ideas of God, -the world, and redemption which are familiar to us? To the genuine -seeker must not the result of his labours appear as something wholly -indifferent? What is it we are seeking? Rest and happiness? No, nothing -but Truth, however evil and terrible it may be.</p> - -<p>"... So are the ways of men marked out; if you desire peace of soul and -happiness, believe; if you would be a disciple of Truth, enquire ..."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche tried to endure this painful life. He walked in the country. -Alone in his room he studied the history of art and the life of -Beethoven. They were vain efforts; he could not forget the people of -Bonn. Twice he went to listen to the musical festivals at Cologne. But -each return added to his malaise. In the end he left the town.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I left Bonn like a fugitive. At midnight I was on the quay of the -Rhine accompanied by my friend M. I was waiting for the steamship which -comes from Cologne, and I did not experience the slightest impression -of pain at the moment of leaving a country-side so flourishing, a -place so beautiful, and a band of young comrades. On the contrary, I -was actually flying from them. I do not wish to begin again to judge -them unjustly, as I have often done. But my nature could find no -satisfaction among them. I was still too timidly wrapt up in myself, -and I had not the strength to stick to my rôle amid so many influences -which were exercising themselves on me. Everything obtruded on me, and -I could not succeed in dominating my surroundings.... I felt in an -oppressive manner that I had done nothing for science, and little for -life, and that I had only clogged myself with faults. The steamer came, -and took me off. I stayed on the bridge in the damp wet night, and as -I watched the little lights which marked the river bank at Bonn slowly -disappear, everything conspired to give me the impression of flight."</p> - -<p>He went to spend a fortnight at Berlin with a comrade whose father was -a rich bourgeois, ready with his censure and his regrets. "Prussia is -lost," this old man affirmed; "the Liberals and the Jews have destroyed -everything with their babblings ... they have destroyed tradition, -confidence, thought itself." Young Nietzsche welcomed these bitter -words. He judged Germany from the students of Bonn and saw his own -sick discomfort everywhere. At the concert he suffered from being in -community of impressions with a low public. In the cafés whither his -hosts took him he would neither drink nor smoke, nor did he address a -word to the people who were introduced to him.</p> - -<hr /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was determined not to see Bonn again, and decided to go to Leipsic -to complete his studies. He arrived in the unknown town and at once -inscribed himself on the roll of the University. The day was a -festival. A Rector harangued the students and told them that on that -same date a hundred years before Goethe had come to inscribe himself -among their elders. "Genius has its own ways," the prudent official -was quick to add, "and it is dangerous to follow them. Goethe was not -a good student; do not take him for model during your years of study." -"Hou, hou!" roared the laughing young men; and Friedrich Nietzsche, -lost in the crowd, was glad at the chance that had brought him thither -at the moment of such an anniversary.</p> - -<p>He resumed work, burnt some verses which had remained among his papers, -and disciplined himself by studying philology according to the most -rigorous methods. Alas, weariness at once laid hold of him again. He -feared a year similar to that at Bonn, and one long complaint filled -his letters and notebooks. Soon there was an end, and this is the event -which delivered his soul. On a bookstall he picked up and turned over -the pages of a work by an author then unknown to him: it was Arthur -Schopenhauer's <i>The World as Will and Idea.</i> The vigour of a phrase, -the precision and flair of a word struck him. "I do not know," he -wrote, "what demon whispered to me, 'Go home and take that book with -you.' Hardly had I entered my room when I opened the treasure which I -had thus acquired, and began to submit myself to the influence of that -energetic and sombre genius."</p> - -<p>The introduction to the book is grandiose: it consists of the three -prefaces which the neglected author wrote at long intervals, for each -of the three editions of 1818, 1844, and 1859. They are haughty and -bitter, but in no way unquiet; rich in profound thoughts, and in the -sharpest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> sarcasm; the lyricism of a Goethe shows itself in union with -the cutting realism of a Bismarck. They are beautiful with that classic -and measured beauty which is rare in German literature. Friedrich -Nietzsche was conquered by their loftiness, their artistic feeling, -their entire liberty. "I think," wrote Schopenhauer, "that the truth -which a man has discovered, or the light which he has projected on some -obscure point, may, one day, strike another thinking being, may move, -rejoice, and console him; and it is to this man one speaks, as other -spirits like to ours have spoken to us and consoled us in this desert -of life." Nietzsche was moved: it seemed to him that a strayed genius -was addressing him alone.</p> - -<p>The world which Schopenhauer describes is formidable. No Providence -guides it, no God inhabits it, inflexible laws draw it in chains -through time and space; but its eternal essence is indifferent to -laws, a stranger to reason: it is that blind Will which urges us into -life. All the phenomena of the universe are rays from that Will, just -as all the days of the year are rays from a single sun. That Will is -invariable, it is infinite; divided, compressed in space. "It nourishes -itself upon itself, since outside of it there is nothing, and since -it is a famishing Will." Therefore, it tortures itself and suffers. -Life is a desire, desire is an unending torment. The good souls of the -nineteenth century believe in the dignity of man, in Progress. They are -the dupes of a superstition. The Will ignores men, the "last comers on -the earth who live on an average thirty years." Progress is a stupid -invention of the philosophers, under the inspiration of the crowd: -Will, an offence to reason, has neither origin nor end; it is absurd, -and the universe which it animates is without sense....</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche read greedily the two thousand pages of this -metaphysical pamphlet, which had struck at all the naïve beliefs of -the nineteenth century with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> terrible force, and had struck from the -head of puerile humanity all its crown of dreams. He experienced a -strange and almost startling emotion. Schopenhauer condemns life, but -so vehement an energy is in him that in his accusing work it is yet -life that one finds and admires. For fourteen days Nietzsche scarcely -slept; he went to bed at two o'clock, rose at six, spent his days -between his book and the piano, meditated, and, in the intervals of -his meditations, composed a <i>Kyrie.</i> His soul was full to the brim: it -had found its truth. That truth was hard, but what matter? For a long -time his instinct had warned and prepared him for this. "What do we -seek?" he had written to his sister. "Is it repose or happiness? No, -truth alone, however terrible and evil it may be." He recognised the -sombre universe of Schopenhauer. He had had a presentiment of it in -the reveries of his boyhood, in his readings of Æschylus, of Byron, -and of Goethe; he had caught a glimpse of it across the symbolism -of Christianity. What was this evil Will, the slave of its desires, -but under another name, that fallen nature pictured by the Apostle, -yet more tragic, now that it was deprived of the divine ray which a -Redeemer had left to it? The young man, in alarm at his inexperience -and his temerity, had recoiled before so formidable a vision. Now -he dared to look it in the face. He no longer feared, for he was no -longer alone. By trusting in Schopenhauer's wisdom he satisfied at -last one of the profoundest of his desires—he had a master. He struck -even a graver note in giving to Schopenhauer the supreme name in -which his orphaned childhood had enshrined a mystery of strength and -tenderness—he called him his father. He was exalted; then, suddenly -swept by a desolating regret. Six years earlier Schopenhauer still -lived; he might have approached him, listened to him, told him of his -veneration. Destiny had separated them! Intense joy mixed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> with intense -sorrow overwhelmed him; and he was shattered by a nervous excitement. -He grew alarmed, and it needed an energetic effort on his part to bring -him back to human life, to the work of the day, to the sleep of the -night.</p> - -<p>Young people experience a need to admire, it is a form of love. When -they admire, when they love, all the servitudes of life become easy to -bear. It was as Schopenhauer's disciple that Friedrich Nietzsche knew -his first happiness. Philology caused him less weariness. Some pupils -of Ritschl, his comrades, founded a society of studies. He joined -with them, and, on the 18th of January, 1866, some weeks after his -great reading of Schopenhauer, he expounded to them the result of his -researches on the manuscripts and the <i>variæ lectiones</i> of Theognis. -He spoke with vigour and freedom, and was applauded. Nietzsche liked -success and tasted it with the simple vanity which he always avowed. He -was happy. When he brought his memoir to Ritschl and was congratulated -very warmly upon it, he was happier yet. He wished to become, and in -fact did become, his master's favourite pupil.</p> - -<p>No doubt he had not ceased to consider philology as an inferior duty, -as a mere intellectual exercise and means of livelihood, and his soul -was hardly satisfied; but what vast soul is ever satisfied? Often, -after a day of parching labour, he was melancholy, but what young and -ardent soul is ignorant of melancholy? At least his sadness had ceased -to be mournful, and a fragment of a letter like the following, which -opens with a complaint and ends in enthusiastic emotion, suggests an -excessive plenitude rather than pain.</p> - -<p>"Three things are my consolations," he wrote in April, 1866. "Rare -consolations! My Schopenhauer, the music of Schumann, and lastly -solitary walks. Yesterday a heavy storm gathered in the sky; I hastened -towards a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> neighbouring hill (it is called Leusch, can you explain the -word to me?), I climbed it; at the summit I found a hut and a man, who, -watched by his children, was cutting the throats of two lambs. The -storm broke in all its power, discharging thunder and hail, and I felt -inexpressibly well, full of strength and <i>élan,</i> and I realised with a -wonderful clearness that to understand Nature one must, as I had just -done, go to her to be saved, far from all worries and all our heavy -constraints. What mattered to me, then, man and his troubled Will! What -mattered to me then the Eternal <i>Thou Shalt</i> and <i>Thou Shalt Not!</i> How -different are lightning, storm, and hail, free powers without ethics! -How happy they are, how strong they are, those pure wills which the -mind has not troubled!"</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the summer of 1866 Nietzsche was spending all -his days in the library of Leipsic, engaged in deciphering difficult -Byzantine manuscripts. Suddenly he allowed his attention to be -distracted by a spectacle of a grandiose kind; Prussia, discreetly -active for fifty years, reappeared in a warlike rôle. Frederick the -Great's kingdom once more found a chief: Bismarck, the passionate, -irascible, and crafty aristocrat who wished to realise at last the -dream of all Germans and to found an empire above all the little -States. He quarrelled with Austria, whom Moltke humiliated after twenty -days of fighting. "I am finishing my <i>Theognidea</i> for the <i>Rheinisches -Museum</i> during the week of Sadowa," we read in a memorandum made by -Nietzsche. He did not stop his work, but political preoccupations -entered into his thoughts. He felt the pride of national victory; he -recognised himself as a Prussian patriot, and a little astonishment -was mixed with his pleasure: "For me this is a wholly new and rare -enjoyment," he writes. Then he reflected on this victory, and discerned -its consequences, which he enunciated with lucidity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<p>"We hold the cards; but as long as Paris remains the centre of Europe, -things will remain in the old condition. It is inevitable that we -should make an effort to upset this equilibrium, or at least to try to -upset it. If we fail, then let us hope to fall, each of us, on a field -of battle, struck by some French shell."</p> - -<p>He is not troubled by this view of the future, which satisfies his -taste for the sombre and the pathetic. On the contrary, he grows -animated and is ready to admire.</p> - -<p>"At certain moments," he writes, "I make an effort to free my opinions -from the turn which my momentary passion and my natural sympathies for -Prussia give them, and then what I see is this: an action conducted -with grandeur by a State, by a chief; an action carved out of the true -substance of which history is really made; assuredly by no means moral; -but, for him who contemplates it, sufficiently edifying and beautiful."</p> - -<p>Was it not a similar sentiment which he had experienced on that hill -with the queer name, Leusch, on a stormy day, by the side of that -peasant who was cutting the throats of two lambs with such calm -simplicity? <i>"Free powers, without ethics! How happy they are, how -strong, those pure Wills which the mind has not troubled!"</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<p>The second year which he passed at Leipsic was perhaps the happiest -of his life. He enjoyed to the full that intellectual security which -his adhesion to his master Schopenhauer assured him. "You ask me for -a vindication of Schopenhauer," he wrote to his friend Deussen; "I -will simply say this to you: I look life in the face, with courage and -liberty, since my feet have found firm soil. The waters of trouble, to -express myself in images, do not sweep me out of my road, because they -come no higher than my head; I am at home in those obscure regions."</p> - -<p>It was a year of composure and of comradeship. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> did not worry -himself about public affairs. Prussia, on the morrow of her victory, -fell back to the low level of everyday life. The babblings of -the tribune and the press succeeded the action of great men, and -Nietzsche turned away from it all. "What a multitude of mediocre -brains are occupied with things of real importance and real effect!" -he writes. "It is an alarming thought." Perhaps he regretted having -allowed himself to be seduced by a dramatic incident. Nevertheless -he knew—Schopenhauer had taught him—that history and politics are -illusory games. He had not forgotten; he wrote in order to affirm -his thought, and to define the mediocre meaning and value of human -agitations.</p> - -<p>"What is history but the endless struggle for existence of innumerable -and diverse interests? The great 'ideas' in which many people believe -that they find the directing forces of this combat are but reflections -which pass across the surface of the swelling sea. They have no action -on the sea; but it often happens that they embellish the waves and -thus deceive him who contemplates them. It matters little whether this -light emanates from a moon, a sun, or a lighthouse; the waves will be a -little more or a little less lit up—that is all."</p> - -<p>His enthusiasm had no other object but art and thought, the study of -the genius of antiquity. He conceived a passion for his master Ritschl: -"That man is my scientific conscience," said he. He took part in the -friendly soirées of the Verein, spoke, and discussed. He planned more -undertakings than he had time for, and then proposed them to his -friends. He elected to study the sources of Diogenes Laertius—that -compiler who has preserved for us such precious information with regard -to the philosophers of Greece. He dreamed of composing a memoir which -should be sagacious and rigorous, but also beautiful: "All important -work," he wrote to Deussen, "you must have felt it yourself, exercises -a moral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> influence. The effort to concentrate a given material, and to -find a harmonious form for it, I compare to a stone thrown into our -inner life: the first circle is narrow, but it multiplies itself, and -other more ample circles disengage themselves from it."</p> - -<p>In April Nietzsche collected and systematised his notes, wholly -preoccupied with this concern for beauty. He did not wish to write -in the manner of scholars who misunderstand the savour of words, the -equilibrium of phrases. He wished to <i>write,</i> in the difficult and -classical sense of the word.</p> - -<p>"The scales fall from my eyes," he wrote; "I have lived too long in -a state of innocence as regards style. The categorical imperative, -'Thou shalt write, it is necessary that thou writest,' has awakened -me. I have tried to write well It is a thing which I had forgotten -since leaving Pforta, and all at once my pen lost its shape between -my fingers. I was impotent, out of temper. The principles of style -enunciated by Lessing, Lichtenberger, Schopenhauer were scolding in -my ears. At least I remembered, and it was my consolation, that these -three authorities agreed in saying that it is difficult to write well, -that no man naturally writes well, and that one must, in order to -acquire a style, work strenuously, hew blocks of hard wood.... Above -all, I wish to imprison in my style some joyous spirits; I shall apply -myself to it as I apply myself upon the keyboard, and I hope to play -at length, not only the pieces that I have learnt, but free fantasies, -free as far as possible, though always logical and beautiful."</p> - -<p>A sentimental joy completed his happiness: he found a friend. Nietzsche -had long been faithful to the comrades of his early childhood: one -was dead, and the other, their lives and occupations having been -separate for ten years, was becoming a stranger to him. At Pforta he -had been fond of the studious Deussen, the faithful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> Gersdorff: the -one was studying at Tübingen, the other at Berlin. He wrote to them -with much zeal, but an exchange of letters could not satisfy that need -for friendship which was an instinct of his soul. Finally, he made -the acquaintance of Erwin Rohde, a vigorous and perspicacious spirit; -he liked him at once; he admired him, for he was incapable of loving -without admiring; he adorned him with the sublime qualities with -which his soul overflowed. Every evening, after laborious hours, the -young men came together. They walked or rode, talking incessantly. "I -experience for the first time," wrote Nietzsche, "the pleasure of a -friendship founded on a moral and philosophic groundwork. Ordinarily, -we dispute strongly, for we are in disagreement on a multitude of -points. But it suffices for our conversation to take a more profound -turn; and then at once our dissonant thoughts are silenced, and nothing -resounds between us but a peaceable and total accord."</p> - -<p>They had promised each other that they would spend their first holiday -weeks together. At the beginning of August, being both free, they left -Leipsic and sought isolation in walks in a tramp on the frontiers of -Bohemia. It is a region of wooded heights, which recalls, with less -grandeur, the Vosges. Nietzsche and Rohde led the life of wandering -philosophers. Their luggage was light, they had no books, they walked -from inn to inn, and, throughout the days unspoilt by a care, they -talked about Schopenhauer, about Beethoven, about Germany, about -Greece. They judged and condemned, with youthful promptitude; they were -never weary of defaming their science. "Oh childishness of erudition!" -they said. "It was a poet, it was Goethe, who discovered the genius -of Greece. He it was who held it up to the Germans, absorbed always -on the confines of a dream, as an example of rich and clear beauty, a -model of perfect form. The professors followed him. They have explained -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> ancient world, and, under their myopic eyes, that wonderful work -of art has become the object of a science. What is there that they -have not studied? In Tacitus, the ablative case, the evolution of -the gerund in the Latin authors of Africa; they have analysed to the -last detail the language of the <i>Iliad,</i> determined in what respect -it is connected with this other and that other Aryan language. What -does it all signify? The beauty of the <i>Iliad</i> is unique; it was felt -by Goethe, and they ignore it. We shall stop this game; that will be -our task. We shall go back to the tradition of Goethe; we shall not -dissect the Greek genius, we shall revitalise it, and teach men to -feel it. For long enough the scholars have carried out their minute -enquiries. It is time to make an end. The work of our generation shall -be definitive; our generation shall enter into possession of the grand -legacy transmitted by the past. And science, too, must serve progress."</p> - -<p>After a month of conversation, the young men left the forest and went -to Meiningen, a little town in which the musicians of the Pessimist -school were giving a series of concerts. A letter of Friedrich -Nietzsche's has preserved a chronicle of the performance. "The Abbé -Liszt presided," he wrote. "They played a symphonic poem by Hans von -Bülow, <i>Nirvana,</i> an explanation of which was given on the programme -in maxims from Schopenhauer. But the music was awful. Liszt, on the -contrary, succeeded remarkably in finding the character of the Indian -<i>Nirvana</i> in some of his religious compositions; for example, in his -<i>Beatitudes."</i> Nietzsche and Rohde separated on the morrow of these -festivals, and returned to their families.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Alone at Naumburg, Nietzsche took up work of various kinds and read -widely. He studied the works of the young German philosophers, -Hartmann, Dühring, Lange, Bahnsen; he admired them all, with the -indulgence of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> brother-in-arms, and dreamt of making their -acquaintance and collaborating with them in a review which they should -found together. He projected an essay, perhaps a sort of manifesto -upon the man whom he wished to give to his contemporaries as a master, -Schopenhauer. "Of all the philosophers," he writes, "he is the truest." -No false sensibility shackles his mind. He is brave, it is the first -quality of a chief. Friedrich Nietzsche notes rapidly: "Ours is the -age of Schopenhauer: a sane pessimism founded upon the ideal; the -seriousness of manly strength, the taste for what is simple and sane. -Schopenhauer is the philosopher of a revived classicism, of a Germanic -Hellenism...."</p> - -<p>He was working ardently, and then, suddenly, his life was turned upside -down. He had been exempted from military service on account of his very -short sight. But the Prussian army in 1867 had great need of men; and -he was enrolled in a regiment of artillery, in barracks at Naumburg.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche made the best of this vexation. It was always a maxim of -his that a man should know how to utilise the chances of his life, -extracting from them, as an artist does, the elements of a richer -destiny. Therefore, since he had to be a soldier, he resolved that -he would learn his new trade. The military obligation had, in this -time of war, a solemnity which it lacks to-day. Nietzsche thought it -a good and healthy thing that he should shut his dictionaries and -get on horseback; that he should become an artilleryman and a good -artilleryman, a sort of ascetic in the service of his fatherland, -<i>etwas</i> ασκησις <i>zu treiben,</i> he wrote in his German, mottled -with Greek.</p> - -<p>"This life is full of inconvenience," he wrote again, "but, tasted as -one would an <i>entremets,</i> it impresses me as altogether profitable. It -is a constant appeal to the energy of man which has a value above all -as an antidote against that paralysing scepticism the effects of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> -we have observed together. In the barracks one learns to know one's -nature, to know what it has to give among strange men, the greater -part of whom are very rough.... Hitherto it has appeared to me that -all have felt kindly towards me, captain and privates alike; moreover, -everything that I must do, I do it with zeal and interest. Has one not -reason to be proud, if one be noted, among thirty recruits, as the best -rider? In truth, that is worth more than a philological diploma."</p> - -<p>Whereupon he cites in full the fine Latin and Ciceronian testimonial -written by old Ritschl in praise of his memoir, <i>De fontibus Laertii -Diogenii.</i> He is happy in his success and does not conceal his pleasure -at it. The fact amuses him. "Thus are we made," he writes; "we know -what such praise is worth, and, in spite of everything, an agreeable -chuckle puts a grimace on our countenance."</p> - -<p>This valiant mood lasted only a short time. Nietzsche was soon to avow -that an artilleryman on horseback is a very unhappy animal when he has -literary tastes, and reflected in the mess-room on the problems of -Democritus.</p> - -<p>He deplored his slavery, and was delivered from it by an accident. He -fell from his horse and injured his side. He suffered, but he was able -to study and meditate at leisure, which was what he liked in life. -However, when the exquisite May days arrived and he had been laid -up for a long month, he grew impatient and sighed for the hours of -exercise. "I who used to ride the most difficult mounts!" he wrote to -Gersdorff. To distract himself he undertook a short work on a poem of -Simonides, <i>The Complaint of Danaë.</i> He corrected the doubtful words in -the text and wrote to Ritschl about a new study: "Since my schooldays," -he wrote, "this beautiful song of <i>Danaë</i> has remained in my memory as -an unforgettable melody: in this time of May can one do better than -become a trifle lyrical oneself? provided that on this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> occasion at -least you do not find in my essay too 'lyrical' a conjecture."</p> - -<p><i>Danaë</i> occupied him, and the complaints of the goddess, abandoned with -her child to the caprice of malevolent billows, mingled in his letters -with his own complaints. For he was suffering; his wound remained -open, and a splinter of a bone appeared one day with the discharge of -matter. "I had a queer impression at the sight," he wrote, "and little -by little it became clear to me that my plans for the examination, for -a voyage to Paris, might very easily be thwarted. The frailty of our -being never appears so plainly <i>ad oculos</i> as at the moment when one -has just seen a little piece of one's own skeleton."</p> - -<p>The voyage to Paris, here mentioned, was the last conceived, and the -dearest of his dreams. He caressed the idea of it, and, as he was -never able to keep a joy to himself alone, he must write to Gersdorff -and then to Rohde, and to two other comrades, Kleimpaul and Romundt: -"After the last year of our studies," he said to them, "let us go to -Paris together and spend a winter there: let us forget our learning: -let us dispedantise ourselves (<i>dépédantisons-nous</i>); let us make the -acquaintance of the <i>divin cancan,</i> the green absinthe: we will drink -of it; let us go to Paris and live <i>en camarades,</i> and, marching the -boulevards, let us represent Germanism and Schopenhauer down there; -we shall not be altogether idle: from time to time we will send a -little copy to the newspapers, casting a few Parisian anecdotes -athwart the world; after a year and a half, after two years [he never -ceased to prolong the imaginary period], we will come back to pass our -examination." Rohde having promised his company, Nietzsche bore less -impatiently the weariness of a convalescence which lasted until the -summer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> - -<p>At last he was cured. In the first days of October, feeling a lively -need for the pleasures which Naumburg had not to offer—music, society, -conversation, the theatre—he reinstalled himself at Leipsic. Both -masters and comrades gave him a warm welcome. His re-entry was happy. -He had scarcely completed his twenty-third year and a glorious dawn -already preceded him. An important review in Berlin asked him for -some historical studies, and he gave them. In Leipsic itself he was -offered the editorship of a musical review: this he refused, although -importuned. <i>"Nego ac pernego,"</i> wrote he to Rohde, now in residence in -another University city.</p> - -<p>He interested himself in everything, except politics. The din and -confusion of men in public meeting assembled was insupportable to him. -"Decidedly," said he, "I am not a ζῶον πολιτικον." And he -wrote to his friend Gersdorff, who had been giving him some information -about Parliamentary intrigues in Berlin:</p> - -<p>"The course of events astonishes me; but I cannot well understand them, -nor take them in, unless I draw out of the crowd and consider apart the -activity of a determined man. Bismarck gives me immense satisfaction. I -read his speeches as though I were drinking a strong wine; I hold back -my tongue that it may not swallow too quickly and that my enjoyment may -last. The machinations of his adversaries, as you relate them to me, -I conceive without difficulty; for it is a necessity that everything -that is small, narrow, sectarian and limited should rebel against such -natures and wage an eternal war upon them."</p> - -<p>Then to so many satisfactions, new and old, was added the greatest -of joys: the discovery of a new genius, Richard Wagner. The whole -of Germany was making<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> the same discovery about this time. Already -she knew and admired this tumultuous man, poet, composer, publicist, -philosopher; a revolutionary at Dresden, a "damned" author at Paris, -a favourite at the Court of Munich; she had discussed his works and -laughed over his debts and his scarlet robes. It was by no means easy -to pass a clear judgment on this life which was a mixture of faith -and insincerity, of meanness and greatness; on this thought which was -sometimes so strong and often so wordy. What kind of man was Richard -Wagner? An uneasy spirit? a genius? One scarcely knew, and Nietzsche -had remained for a long time in a state of indecision. <i>Tristan -and Isolde</i> moved him infinitely; other works disconcerted him. "I -have just read the <i>Valkyrie,</i>" he wrote to Gersdorff, in October, -1866, "and I find myself impressed so confusedly that I can reach no -judgment. Its great beauties and <i>virtutes</i> are counterbalanced by so -many defects and deformities equally great; 0<i> + a + (-a)</i> gives 0, -all calculations made." "Wagner is an insoluble problem," he said on -another occasion. The musician whom he then preferred was Schumann.</p> - -<p>Wagner had the art of imposing his glory on the world. In July, 1868, -he produced at Munich the <i>Meistersinger,</i> that noble and familiar -poem in which the German people, heroes of the action, filled the -stage with their arguments, their sports, their labours, their loves, -and themselves glorified their own art, music. Germany was then -experiencing the proud desire of greatness. She had the confidence and -the <i>élan</i> which dare recognise the genius of an artist. Wagner was -acclaimed; he passed during the last months of 1868 that invisible -border-line above which a man is transfigured and exalted, above glory -itself, into a light of immortality.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche heard the <i>Meistersinger.</i> He was touched by -its marvellous beauty and his critical fancies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> vanished. "To be -just towards such a man," he wrote to Rohde, "one must have a little -enthusiasm.... I try in vain to listen to his music in a cold and -reserved frame of mind; every nerve vibrates in me...." This miraculous -art had taken hold of him; he wished that his friends should share his -new passion; he confided his Wagnerian impressions to them: "Last night -at the concert," he wrote, "the overture to the <i>Meistersinger</i> caused -me so lasting a thrill that it was long since I had felt anything like -it." Wagner's sister, Madame Brockhaus, was living in Leipsic. She -was a woman out of the ordinary; and her friends affirmed that they -recognised in her a little of the genius of her brother. Nietzsche -wanted to approach her. This modest desire was soon satisfied.</p> - -<p>"The other evening," he writes to Rohde, "on returning home I found a -letter addressed to me, a very short note: 'If you would care to meet -Richard Wagner come to the Café zum Theater at a quarter to four.—W. -... SCH.' The news, if you will forgive me, positively turned my head, -and I found myself as if tossed about by a whirlwind. It goes without -saying that I went out at once to seek the excellent Windisch, who -was able to give me some further information. He told me that Wagner -was at Leipsic, at his sister's, in the strictest incognito; that the -Press knew nothing about his visit, and that all the servants in the -Brockhaus household were as mute as liveried gravediggers. Madame -Brockhaus, Wagner's sister, had presented to him only one visitor, -Madame Ritschl, whose judgment and penetration of mind you know, thus -allowing herself the pleasure of being proud of her friend before her -brother and proud of her brother before her friend, the happy creature! -While Madame Ritschl was in the room Wagner played the <i>Lied</i> from the -<i>Meistersinger,</i> which you know well;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> and the excellent lady informed -him that the music was already familiar to her, <i>mea opera.</i> Thereupon -pleasure and surprise on the part of Wagner: he expresses a keen desire -to meet me incognito. They decide to invite me for Friday evening. -Windisch explains that that day is impossible to me on account of my -duties, my work, my engagements: and Sunday afternoon is suggested. -We went to the house, Windisch and I, and found the professor's -family there, but not Richard: he had gone out with his vast skull -hidden under some prodigious headdress. I was presented to this very -distinguished family, and received a most cordial invitation for Sunday -evening, which I accepted.</p> - -<p>"I spent the next few days, I assure you, in a highly romantic mood: -and you must admit that this <i>début,</i> this unapproachable hero, have -something about them bordering on the world of legend.</p> - -<p>"With such an important function before me I decide to dress in my -best. It so chanced that my tailor had promised to deliver me on -Sunday a black coat: everything promised well. Sunday was a frightful -day of snow and rain. One shuddered at the idea of leaving the house. -So I was far from displeased to receive a call during the afternoon -from R——, who babbled about the Eleatics and the nature of God in -their philosophy—because as <i>candidandus</i> he is going to take the -thesis prescribed by Abrens, <i>The Development of the Idea of God down -to Aristotle,</i> while Romundt proposes to solve the problem <i>Of the -Will,</i> and thereby to win the University prize. The evening draws on, -the tailor fails to arrive and Romundt departs. I go with him as far -as my tailor's, and entering the shop, I find his slaves very busy -on my coat: they promise that it will be delivered in three hours. -I leave, more content with the course of things; on my way home I -pass Kintschy, read the <i>Kladderadatsch,</i> and find with satisfaction -a newspaper paragraph<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> to the effect that Wagner is in Switzerland, -but that a beautiful house is being built for him at Munich. As for -me, I know that I am about to see him, and that a letter arrived for -him yesterday from the little King, bearing the address: To the great -German composer, Richard Wagner.</p> - -<p>"I return home; no tailor. I read very comfortably a dissertation on -the <i>Eudocia,</i> a little distracted from time to time by a troublesome -though distant noise. At last I hear the sound of knocking at the old -iron grille, which is closed ..."</p> - -<p>It was the tailor; Nietzsche tried on the suit, which fitted him well; -he thanked the journeyman, who, however, stayed on, and asked to be -paid. Nietzsche, being short of money, was of another opinion; the -journeyman repeated his demand, Nietzsche reiterated his refusal; the -journeyman would not yield, went off with the suit, and Nietzsche, left -abashed in his room, considered with displeasure a black frock-coat, -greatly doubting whether it would "do for Richard." Finally he put it -on again:</p> - -<p>"Outside the rain is falling in torrents. A quarter past eight! At half -past Windisch is to meet me at the Café zum Theater. I precipitate -myself into the dark and rainy night, I too a poor man, all in black, -without a dress coat, but in the most romantic of humours. Fortune -favours me; there is something mysterious and unusual in the very -aspect of the streets on this night of snow.</p> - -<p>"We enter the very comfortable parlour of the Brockhaus's; there is -no one there but the closest relations of the family, and we two. I -am introduced to Richard, to whom I express my veneration in a few -words; he asks me very minutely how I became a faithful disciple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> of -his music, bursts out in invectives against all the productions of -his work, those of Munich, which are admirable, alone excepted; and -gibes of the orchestra conductors who counsel paternally: 'Now, if -you please, a little passion, gentlemen, a little more passion, my -friends!' He imitates the accent of Leipsic very well.</p> - -<p>"How I would like to give you an idea of the pleasures of the evening, -of our enjoyments, which have been so lively, so peculiar, were it -not that even to-day I have not yet recovered my old equilibrium, and -cannot do better than tell you as I chatter along a 'fairy tale.' -Afterwards, before dinner, Wagner played all the principal passages -from the <i>Meistersinger;</i> he himself imitated all the voices: I can -leave you to imagine that much was lost. As a talker he is incredibly -swift and animated, and his abundance and humour are enough to -convulse with gaiety a circle of intimates such as we were. Between -whiles I had a long conversation with him about Schopenhauer. Ah, you -wall understand what a joy it was for me to hear him speak with an -indescribable warmth, explaining what he owes to our Schopenhauer, and -telling me that Schopenhauer, alone among the philosophers, understood -the essence of music. Then he wanted to know what is the present -attitude of the philosophers with regard to Schopenhauer; he laughed -very heartily at the Congress of Philosophers at Prague, and spoke of -philosophical <i>domesticity.</i> Afterwards he read us a fragment of his -Memoirs, which he is now writing, a scene from his student-life at -Leipsic, overwhelmingly funny, of which I cannot think even now without -laughing. His mind is amazingly supple and witty.</p> - -<p>"At last, as we were preparing to leave, Windisch and I, he gave me a -very warm handshake, and invited me, in the most friendly fashion, to -pay him a visit, to talk of music and philosophy. He also entrusted -me with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> mission of making his music known to his sister and his -parents: a mission which I shall discharge with enthusiasm. I will -write you of the evening at greater length when I am able to review -it from a little further off, and more objectively. To-day, a cordial -greeting and, for your health, my best wishes."</p> - -<p>That day of calm appreciation, which Nietzsche was waiting for, did -not come. He had come in contact with a godlike man. He had felt the -shock of genius, and his soul remained shaken by it. He studied the -theoretical writings of Wagner, which he had hitherto neglected, and -meditated seriously on the idea of the unique work of art which was to -be a synthesis of the scattered beauties of poetry, the plastic arts, -and harmony. He saw the German spirit renovated through the Wagnerian -ideal, and his swift mind went off in that direction.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Ritschl said to him one day: "I am going to surprise you. Would -you like to be appointed a Professor in the University of Basle?" -Nietzsche's surprise was, in fact, extreme. He was in his twenty-fourth -year, and had not obtained his final degrees. The astonishing -proposition had to be repeated to him Ritschl explained that he had -received a letter from Basle; he was asked what sort of man was Herr -Friedrich Nietzsche, author of the fine essays published in the -<i>Rheinisches Museum;</i> could he be entrusted with a Chair of Philology? -Ritschl had answered that Herr Friedrich Nietzsche was a young man who -had ability enough to do anything he chose to do. He had even dared to -write that Herr Nietzsche had genius. The matter, though suspended for -the moment, had already gone pretty far.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche listened to the news with infinite anxiety. It made him proud -and yet left him broken-hearted. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> whole year of liberty which he -had thought to be still before him suddenly vanished, and with it his -projects of study, of vast reading, of travel. He was losing a happy -life swollen with dreams. How could he reject so flattering an offer? -He had, it appears, contrary to all good sense, a certain hesitation -against which Ritschl had to fight. The old savant felt a real -tenderness for this singular pupil of his, this sagacious philologist, -metaphysician and poet; he loved him and believed in him. But he had -one anxiety: he feared lest Nietzsche, under the incessant solicitation -of instincts almost too numerous and too fine, should disperse his -energy on too many objects and waste his gifts. For four years he -had been iterating in his ears the same counsel: <i>Restrict yourself -in order to be strong;</i> and he now repeated it in pressing terms. -Nietzsche understood, and gave way. He wrote at once to Erwin Rohde: -"As to our Parisian voyage, think of it no longer; it is certain that -I am to be appointed to this Professorship at Basle; I who wished to -study Chemistry! Henceforward I must learn how to renounce. Down there -how much alone I shall be—without a friend whose thought resounds to -mine like beautiful thirds, minor or major!"</p> - -<p>He obtained his final diploma without examination, in consideration of -his past performances and of the unique circumstance. The professors of -Leipsic did not like the notion of examining their colleague of Basle.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche remained some weeks at Naumburg with his own -people. The family were full of joy and pride: so young and a -University professor! "What great matter is it?" retorted Nietzsche -impatiently; "there is an usher the more in the world, that is all!" On -April 13th he writes to his friend Gersdorff:</p> - -<p>"Here I am at the last term, the last evening that I shall spend beside -my hearth; to-morrow morning I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> strike out into the great world; I -enter a profession which is new to me, in an atmosphere heavy and -oppressive with duties and obligations. Once more I must say adieu: -the golden time in which one's activities are free and unfettered; -in which every instant is sovereign; in which art and the world are -spread out before our eyes as a pure spectacle in which we hardly -participate—that time is past beyond recall. Now begins the reign of -the harsh goddess of daily duty. <i>Bemooster Bursche zieh? ich aus.</i> ... -You know that poignant student-song. Yes, yes! now comes my turn to be -a philistine!</p> - -<p>"One day or another, here or there, the saying always comes true. -Offices and dignities are not to be accepted with impunity. The whole -thing is to know whether the chains which you are forced to carry -are of iron or of thread. And I still have courage enough to break -some link on occasion, and to risk some plunge or other into the -perilous life. Of the compulsory gibbosity of the professor I do not -as yet discern in myself any trace. To become a philistine, a man of -the crowd, ἄνθρωπος ἄμουσος—Zeus and the Muses preserve -me from such a fate! Moreover, I find it hard to see how I could -contrive to become what I am not. I am more afraid of another kind of -philistinism, the professional species. It is only too natural that a -daily task, an incessant concentration on certain facts and certain -problems, should hang like a weight on the free sensibility of the -mind, and strike at the roots of the philosophic sense. But I imagine -that I can confront this peril more calmly than most philologists: -philosophical seriousness is too deeply rooted in me: the true and -essential problems of life and thought have been too clearly revealed -to me by the great mystagogue Schopenhauer to permit me to be ever -guilty of shameful treachery to the 'Idea.' To vivify my science with -this new blood; to communicate to my hearers that Schopenhauerian -earnestness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> which glitters on the brow of that sublime thinker—such -is my desire, my audacious hope: I want to be more than a pedagogue to -honest savants. I am thinking of the duties of the masters of our time; -I look forward, and my mind is filled with the thought of that next -generation which follows at our heels. Since we must endure life, let -us at least endeavour so to use it as to give it some worth in the eyes -of others when we are happily delivered from it."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche disquieted himself needlessly. If he could have -guessed what the approaching days held for him, his joy would have been -immense. Richard Wagner lived not far from Basle, and was to become his -friend.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h5> - - -<h4>FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER—TRIEBSCHEN</h4> - - -<p>Nietzsche installed himself at Basle, selected his domicile, and -exchanged visits with his colleagues. But Richard Wagner was constantly -in his thoughts. Three weeks after his arrival some friends joined with -him in an expedition to the shores of the lake of the Four Cantons. One -morning he left them and set off on foot by the river bank towards the -master's retreat, Triebschen. Triebschen is the name of a little cape -which protrudes into the lake; a solitary villa and a solitary garden, -whose high poplars are seen from afar, occupy its expanse.</p> - -<p>He stopped before the closed gate and rang. Trees hid the house. He -looked around, as he waited, and listened: his attentive ear caught -the resonance of a harmony which was soon muffled up in the noise -of footsteps. A servant opened the door and Nietzsche sent in his -card; then he was left to hear once more the same harmony, dolorous, -obstinate, many times repeated. The invisible master ceased for a -moment, but almost at once was busy again with his experiments, raising -the strain, modulating it, until, by modulating once more, he had -brought back the initial harmony. The servant returned. Herr Wagner -wished to know if the visitor was the same Herr Nietzsche whom he had -met one evening at Leipsic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> "Yes," said the young man. "Then would -Herr Nietzsche be good enough to come back at luncheon time?" But -Nietzsche's friends were awaiting him, and he had to excuse himself. -The servant disappeared again, to return with another message. "Would -Herr Nietzsche spend the Monday of Pentecost at Triebschen?" This -invitation he was able to accept and did accept.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche came to know Wagner at one of the finest moments of the -latter's life. The great man was alone, far from the public, from -journalists, and from crowds. He had just carried off and married the -divorced wife of Hans von Bülow, the daughter of Liszt and of Madame -d'Agoult, an admirable being who was endowed with the gifts of two -races. The adventure had scandalised all the Pharisees of old-fashioned -Germany. Richard Wagner was completing his work in retreat: a gigantic -work, a succession of four dramas, every one of which was immense: -a work which was not conceived for the pleasure of men, but for the -trouble and salvation of their souls; a work so prodigious that no -public was worthy to hear it, no company of singers worthy to sing -it, no stage, in short, vast enough or noble enough to make its -representation possible. What matter! The world must stoop to Richard -Wagner; it was not for him to yield to it. He had finished <i>Rhinegold,</i> -and the <i>Valkyries; Siegfried</i> was soon to be completed; and he began -to know the joy of the workman who has mastered his work, and is able -at last to view it as a whole.</p> - -<p>Restlessness and anger were mixed with his joy, for he was not of those -who are content with the approbation of an élite. He had been moved by -all the dreams of men, and he wished in his turn to move all men. He -needed the crowd, wanted to be listened to by it, and never ceased to -call to the Germans, always heavy and slow-footed in following him. -"Aid me," he cries out in his books, "for you begin to be strong. -Because of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> strength do not disdain, do not neglect those who have -been your spiritual masters, Luther, Kant, Schiller and Beethoven: I -am the heir of these masters. Assist me. I need a stage where I may -be free; give me it! I need a people who shall listen to me; be that -people! Aid me, it is your duty. And, in return, I will glorify you."</p> - -<p>We may picture this first visit: Nietzsche with his soft manners, -his nervous voice, his fiery and veiled look; his face which was so -youthful in spite of the long, drooping moustache; Wagner in the -strength of the fifty-nine years that he carried without sign of -weakness, overflowing with intuitions and experiences, desires and -expectations, exuberant in language and gesture. What was their first -interview like? <i>We</i> have no record of it, but no doubt Wagner repeated -what he was writing in his books, and said imperiously: "Young man, you -too must help me."</p> - -<p>The night was fine and conversation spirited. When it was time for -Nietzsche to go, Wagner desired to accompany his guest on his way home -along the river. They went out together. Nietzsche's joy was great. The -want from which he had long suffered was now being supplied; he had -needed to love, to admire, to listen. At last he had met a man worthy -to be his master; at last he had met him for whom no admiration, no -love could be too strong. He gave himself up entirely and resolved -to serve this solitary and inspired being, to fight for him against -the inert multitude, against the Germany of the Universities, of the -Churches, of the Parliaments, and of the Courts. What was Wagner's -impression? No doubt he too was happy. From the very beginning he had -recognised the extraordinary gifts of his young visitor. He could -converse with him; and to converse means to give and to receive. And so -few men had been able to afford him that joy.</p> - -<p>On the 22nd of May, eight days after this first visit,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> a few very -intimate friends came from Germany to Triebschen to celebrate the first -day of their master's sixtieth year. Nietzsche was invited, but had -to decline, for he was preparing his opening lecture and did not like -to be distracted at his task. He was anxious to express straightway -the conception that he had formed of his science and of its teaching. -For his subject he took the Homeric problem, that problem which is an -occasion of division between scholars who analyse antiquity and artists -who delight in it. His argument was that the scholars must resolve this -conflict by accepting the judgment of the artists. Their criticism, -fecund in useful historical results, had restored the legend and the -vast frame of the two poems. But it had decided nothing, and could have -decided nothing. After all, the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> were there -before the world in clear shapes, and if Goethe chose to say: "The two -poems are the work of a single poet "—the scholar had no reply. His -task was modest, but useful and deserving of esteem. Let us not forget, -said Nietzsche at the conclusion of his inaugural lecture, how but a -few years ago these marvellous Greek masterpieces lay buried beneath an -enormous accumulation of prejudices. The minute labour of our students -has saved them for us. Philology is neither a Muse nor a Grace; she has -not created this enchanted world, it is not she who has composed this -immortal music. But she is its virtuoso, and we have to thank her that -these accents, long forgotten and almost indecipherable, resound again, -and that is surely a high merit. "And as the Muses formerly descended -among the heavy and wretched Bœotian peasants, this messenger comes -to-day into a world filled with gloomy and baneful shapes, filled with -profound and incurable sufferings, and consoles us by evoking the -beautiful and luminous forms of the Gods, the outlines of a marvellous, -an azure, a distant, a fortunate country...."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> - -<p>Nietzsche was highly applauded by the bourgeois of Basle, who had -come in great numbers to hear the young master whose genius had been -announced. His success pleased him, but his thoughts went otherwhere, -towards another marvellous, azure, and distant land—Triebschen. On the -4th of June he received a note:</p> - -<p>"Come and sleep a couple of nights under our roof," wrote Wagner. "We -want to know what you are made of. Little joy I have so far from my -German compatriots. Come and save the abiding <i>faith</i> which I still -cling to, in what I call, with Goethe and some others, German liberty."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche was able to spare these two days and henceforward was a -familiar of the master's. He wrote to his friends:</p> - -<p>"Wagner realises all our desires: a rich, great, and magnificent -spirit; an energetic character, an enchanting man, worthy of all love, -ardent for all knowledge. ... But I must stop; I am chanting a pæan....</p> - -<p>"I beg you," he says further, "not to believe a word of what is written -about Wagner by the journalists and the musicographers. No one in the -world knows him, no one can judge him, since the whole world builds on -foundations which are not his, and is lost in his atmosphere. Wagner -is dominated by an idealism so absolute, a humanity so moving and so -profound, that I feel in his presence as if I were in contact with -divinity...."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Richard Wagner had written, at the request of Louis II., King of -Bavaria, a short treatise on social metaphysics. This singular work, -which had been conceived to fascinate a young and romantic prince,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> was -carefully withheld from publicity, and lent only to intimates. Wagner -gave it to Nietzsche, and few things surely that the latter ever read -went home more deeply. As traces of the impression he received from it -are to be discovered in his work down to the very end, it will be worth -our while to give some idea of its nature.</p> - -<p>Wagner starts by explaining an old error of his: in 1848 he had been -a Socialist. Not that he had ever welcomed the ideal of a levelling -of men; his mind, avid of beauty and order, in other words, of -superiorities, could not have welcomed a notion of the kind. But he -hoped that a humanity liberated from the baser servitudes would rise -with less effort to an understanding of art. In this he was mistaken, -as he now understood.</p> - -<p>"My friends, despite their fine courage," he wrote, "were vanquished; -the emptiness of their effort proved to me that they were the victims -of a basic error and that they had asked from the world what the world -could not give them."</p> - -<p>His view cleared and he recognised that the masses are powerless, -their agitations vain, their co-operation illusory. He had believed -them capable of introducing into history a progress of culture. Now he -saw that they could not collaborate towards the mere maintenance of a -culture already acquired. They experience only such needs as are gross, -elementary, and short-lived. For them all noble ends are unattainable. -And the problem which reality obliges us to solve is this: how are we -to contrive things so that the masses shall serve a culture which must -always be beyond their comprehension, and serve it with zeal and love, -even to the sacrifice of life? All politics are comprised within this -question, which appears insoluble, and yet is not. Consider Nature: -no one understands her ends; and yet all beings serve her. How does -Nature obtain their adhesion to life? She deceives her creatures. She -puts them in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> hope of an immutable and ever-delayed happiness. She -gives them those instincts which constrain the humblest of animals to -lengthy sacrifices and voluntary pains. She envelops in illusion all -living beings, and thus persuades them to struggle and to suffer with -unalterable constancy.</p> - -<p>Society, wrote Wagner, ought to be upheld by similar artifices. It is -illusions that assure its duration, and the task of those who rule men -is to maintain and to propagate these conserving illusions. Patriotism -is the most essential. Every child of the people should be brought up -in love of the King, the living symbol of the fatherland, and this -love must become an instinct, strong enough to render the most sublime -abnegation an easy thing.</p> - -<p>The patriotic illusion assures the permanence of the State but does -not suffice to guarantee a high culture. It divides humanity, it -favours cruelty, hatred, and narrowness of thought. The King, whose -glance dominates the State, measures its limits, and is aware of -purposes which extend beyond it. Here a second illusion is necessary, -the religious illusion whose dogmas symbolise a profound unity and a -universal love. The King must sustain it among his subjects.</p> - -<p>The ordinary man, if he be penetrated with this double illusion, can -live a happy and a worthy life: his way is made clear, he is saved. -But the life of the prince and his counsellors is a graver and a more -dangerous thing. They propagate the illusions, therefore they judge -them. Life appears to them unveiled, and they know how tragic a thing -it is. "The great man, the exceptional man," writes Wagner, "finds -himself practically every day in the same condition in which the -ordinary man despairs of life, and has recourse to suicide." The prince -and the aristocracy which surrounds him, his nobles, are forearmed by -their valour against so cowardly a temptation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> Nevertheless, they -experience a bitter need to "turn their back on the world." They desire -for themselves a restful illusion, of which they may be at the same -time the authors and the accessories. Here art intervenes to save them, -not to exalt the naïve enthusiasm of the people, but to alleviate the -unhappy life of the nobles and to sustain their valour. "Art," writes -Richard Wagner, addressing Louis II., "I present to my very dear friend -as the promised and benignant land. If Art cannot lift us in a real and -complete manner above life, at least it lifts us in life itself to the -very highest of regions. It gives life the appearance of a game, it -withdraws us from the common lot, it ravishes and consoles us."</p> - -<p>"Only yesterday"—wrote Nietzsche to Gersdorff on the 4th of August, -1869—"I was reading a manuscript which Wagner confided to me, <i>Of -the State and Religion,</i> a treatise full of grandeur, composed in -order to explain to 'his young friend,' the little King of Bavaria, -his particular way of understanding the State and Religion. Never did -any one speak to his King in a tone more worthy, more philosophical; -I felt myself moved and uplifted by that ideality which the spirit of -Schopenhauer seems constantly to inspire. Better than any other mortal, -the King should understand the tragic essence of life."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>In September, Friedrich Nietzsche, after a short stay in Germany, -returned to a life divided between Basle and Triebschen. At Basle -he had his work, his pupils, who listened to him with attention, -the society of amiable colleagues. His wit, his musical talent, his -friendship with Richard Wagner, his elegant manners and appearance, -procured him a certain prestige. The best houses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> liked his company, -and he did not refuse their invitations. But all the pleasures of -society are less acceptable than the simplest friendship, and Nietzsche -had not a single friend in this honest bourgeois city; at Triebschen -alone was he satisfied.</p> - -<p>"Now," he writes to Erwin Rohde, who was living at Rome, "I, too, have -my Italy, but I am able to visit it only on Saturdays and Sundays. My -Italy is called Triebschen, and I already feel as if it were my home. -Recently I have been there four times running, and into the bargain -a letter travels the same road almost every week. My dear friend, -what I see and hear and learn there I find it impossible to tell you. -Schopenhauer and Goethe, Pindar and Æschylus are, believe me, still -alive."</p> - -<p>Each of his returns was an occasion of melancholy. A feeling of -solitude depressed him. He confided in Erwin Rohde, speaking at the -same time of the hopes he had in his work.</p> - -<p>"Alas, dear friend," he said, "I have very few satisfactions, and -solitary, always solitary, I must ruminate on them all within myself. -Ah! I should not fear a good illness, if I could purchase at that price -a night's conversation with you. Letters are so little use!... Men are -constantly in need of midwives, and almost all go to be delivered in -taverns, in colleges where little thoughts and little projects are as -plentiful as litters of kittens. But when we are full of our thought -no one is there to aid us, to assist us at the difficult accouchment: -sombre and melancholy, we deposit in some dark hole our birth of -thought, still heavy and shapeless. The sun of friendship does not -shine upon them."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am becoming a virtuoso in the art of solitary walking," he says -again; and he adds: "My friendship has something pathological about -it." Nevertheless he is happy in the depths of his being; he says so -himself one day, and warns his friend Rohde against his own letters:</p> - -<p>"Correspondence has this that is vexatious about it: one would like -to give the best of oneself, whereas, in fact, one gives what is most -ephemeral, the accord and not the eternal melody. Each time that I sit -down to write to you, the saying of Hölderlin (the favourite author -of my schooldays) comes back to my mind: 'Denn liebend giebt der -Sterbliche <i>vom Besten!</i>' And, as well as I remember, what have you -found in my last letters? Negations, contrarieties, singularities, -solitudes. Nevertheless, Zeus and the divine sky of autumn know it, a -powerful current carries me towards positive ideas, each day I enjoy -exuberant hours which delight me with full perceptions, with real -conceptions—in such instants of exalting impressions, I never miss -sending you a long letter full of thoughts and of vows; and I fling it -athwart the blue sky, trusting, for its carriage towards you, to the -electricity which is between our souls."</p> - -<p>And we can get a glimpse of these positive ideas, these precious -impressions, because we are in possession of all the notes and the -blunders of the young man who was acquiring, at the price of constant -effort, strength and mastery.</p> - -<p>"My years of study," he wrote to Ritschl, "what have they been for me? -A luxurious sauntering across the domains of philology and art; hence -my gratitude is especially lively at this moment that I address you who -have been till now the 'destiny' of my life; and hence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> I recognise how -necessary and opportune was the offer which changed me from a wandering -into a fixed star, and obliged me to taste anew the satisfaction of -galling but regular work, of an unchanging but certain object. A -man's labour is quite another thing, when the holy <i>anangkei</i> of his -profession helps him; how peaceful is his slumber, and, awakening, -how sure is his knowledge of what the day demands. There, there is no -philistinism. I feel as if I were gathering a multitude of scattered -pages in a book."</p> - -<p><i>The Origin of Tragedy</i> proves to be the book the guiding ideas of -which Nietzsche was now elaborating. Greek thought remains the centre -round which his thought forms, and he meditates, in audacious fashion, -on its history. A true historian, he thinks, should grasp its ensemble -in a rapid view. "All the great advances in Philology," he writes in -his notes, "are the issue of a creative gaze." The eyes of a Goethe -discovered a Greece clear and serene. Being still under the domination -of his genius, we continue to perceive the image which he has put -before us. But we should seek and discover for ourselves. Goethe -fixed his gaze on the centuries of Alexandrine culture. Nietzsche -neglects these. He prefers the rude and primitive centuries, whither -his instinct, since his eighteenth year, had led him when he elected -to study the distiches of the aristocrat, Theognis of Megara. There he -inhales an energy, a strength of thought, of action, of endurance, of -infliction; a vital poetry, vital dreams which rejoice his soul.</p> - -<p>Finally, in this very ancient Greece, he finds again, or thinks that -he finds again, the spirit of Wagner, his master. Wagner wishes to -renew tragedy, and, by using the theatre, as it were, as a spiritual -instrument, to reanimate the diminished sense of poetry in the human -soul. The "tragic" Greeks had a similar ambition;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> they wished to -raise their race and ennoble it again by the most striking evocation -of myths. Their enterprise was a sublime one, but it failed, for the -merchants of the Piræus, the democracy of the towns, the vulgar herd of -the market-place and of the port, did not care for a lyrical art which -stipulated a too lofty manner of thought, too great a nobleness in -deed. The noble families were vanquished and tragedy ceased to exist. -Richard Wagner encounters similar enemies—they are the democrats, -insipid thinkers, and base prophets of well-being and peace.</p> - -<p>"Our world is being judaised, our prattling <i>plebs,</i> given over to -politics, is hostile to the idealistic and profound art of Wagner," -writes Nietzsche to Gersdorff. "His chivalrous nature is contrary to -them. Is Wagner's art, as, in other times, Æschylus's art, to suffer -defeat?" Friedrich Nietzsche is always occupied with a like combat.</p> - -<p>He unfolds these very new views to his master. "We must renew the -idea of Hellenism," he says to him; "we live on commonplaces which -are false. We speak of the 'Greek joy,' the 'Greek serenity'; this -joy, this serenity, are tardy fruits and of poor savour, the graces of -centuries of servitudes. The Socratic subtlety, the Platonic sweetness, -already bear the mark of the decline. We must study the older -centuries, the seventh, the sixth. Then we touch the naïve force, the -original sap. Between the poems of Homer, which are the romance of her -infancy, and the dramas of Æschylus, which are the act of her manhood, -Greece, not without long effort, enters into the possession of her -instincts and disciplines. It is the knowledge of these times which we -should seek, because they resemble our own. Then the Greeks believed, -as do the Europeans of to-day, in the fatality of natural forces; and -they believed also that man must create for himself his virtues and his -gods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> They were animated by a tragic sentiment, a brave pessimism, -which did not turn them away from life. Between them and us there is a -complete parallel and correspondence; pessimism and courage, and the -will to establish a new beauty...."</p> - -<p>Richard Wagner interested himself in the ideas of the young man, and -associated him more and more intimately in his life. One day, Friedrich -Nietzsche being present, he received from Germany the news that the -<i>Rhinegold</i> and the <i>Valkyries,</i> badly executed far from his advice and -direction, had had a double failure. He was sad and did not hide his -disappointment; he was afflicted by this depreciation of the immense -work which he had destined for a non-existent theatre and public, and -which now crumbled before his eyes. His noble suffering moved Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche took part in his master's work. Wagner was then composing -the music of the <i>Twilight of the Gods.</i> Page after page the work -grew, without haste or delay, as though from the regular overflowing -of an invisible source. But no effort absorbed Wagner's thought, and, -during these same days, he wrote an account of his life. Friedrich -Nietzsche received the manuscript with directions to have it secretly -printed, and to supervise the publication of an edition limited to -twelve copies. He was asked to oblige with more intimate services. At -Christmas, Wagner was preparing a Punch and Judy show for his children. -He wanted to have pretty figurines, devils and angels. Madame Wagner -begged Nietzsche to purchase them in Basle. "I forget that you are a -professor, a doctor, and a philologist," she said graciously, "and -remember only your five-and-twenty years." He examined the figurines -of Basle, and, not finding them to his liking, wrote to Paris for the -most frightful devils, the most beatific angels imaginable. Friedrich -Nietzsche, admitted to the solemnity of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> Punch and Judy show, spent -the Christmas festival with Wagner, his wife and family, in the most -charming of intimacies. Cosima Wagner made him a present; she gave -him a French edition of Montaigne, with whom, it seems, he was not -acquainted, and of whom he soon became so fond. She was imprudent that -day. Montaigne is perilous reading for a disciple.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>"This winter I have to give two lectures on the æsthetic of the Greek -tragedies," wrote Nietzsche, about September, to his friend the Baron -von Gersdorff; "and Wagner will come from Triebschen to hear them." -Wagner did not go, but Nietzsche was listened to by a very large public.</p> - -<p>He described an unknown Greece, vexed by the mysteries and -intoxications of the god Dionysius, and through its trouble, through -this very intoxication, initiated into poetry, into song, into -tragic contemplation. It seems that he wished to define this eternal -romanticism, always alike to him, whether in Greece of the sixth -century B.C. or in Europe of the thirteenth century; the same, surely, -which inspired Richard Wagner in his retreat at Triebschen. Nietzsche, -however, abstained from mentioning this latter name.</p> - -<p>"The Athenian coming to assist at the tragedy of the great Dionysos -bore in his heart some spark of that elementary force from which -tragedy was born. This is the irresistible outburst of springtime, -that fury and delirium of mingled emotions which sweeps in springtime -across the souls of all simple peoples and across the whole life of -nature. It is an accepted thing that festivals of Easter and Carnival, -travestied by the Church, were in their origin spring festivals. Every -such fact can be traced to a most deep-rooted instinct: the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> soil -of Greece bore on its bosom enthusiastic multitudes, full of Dionysos; -in the Middle Ages in the same way the dances of the Feast of Saint -John and of Saint Vitus drew out great crowds who went singing, leaping -and dancing from town to town, gathering recruits in each. It is, of -course, open to the doctors to regard these phenomena as diseases of -the crowd: we content ourselves with saying that the drama of antiquity -was the flower of such a disease, and if that of our modern art does -not fountain forth from that mysterious source, that is its misfortune."</p> - -<p>In his second lecture Nietzsche studied the end of tragic art. It is a -singular phenomenon; all the other arts of Greece slowly and gloriously -declined. Tragedy had no decline. After Sophocles it disappeared, -as though a catastrophe had destroyed it. Nietzsche recounts the -catastrophe, and names the destroyer, Socrates.</p> - -<p>He dared to denounce the most revered of men. It was he, the poor -Athenian, a man of the people, an ugly scoffer, who suppressed the -ancient poetry. Socrates was neither an artist nor a philosopher; -he did not write, he did not teach, he scarcely spoke; seated in -the public place, he stopped the passers-by, astonished them by his -pleasant logic, convinced them of their ignorance and absurdity, -laughed, and obliged them to laugh at themselves. His irony dishonoured -the naïve beliefs which gave strength to the ancestors of the race, -the myths which upheld their virtues. He despised tragedy, and made -open declaration of his contempt for it; that was enough. Euripides was -troubled, and suppressed his inspiration, while the young Plato, who -perhaps would have surpassed Sophocles himself, listened to the new -master, burnt his verses, and renounced art. He disconcerted the old -instinctive lyrical humanity of Greece; and, by the voice of Plato, -whom he had seduced, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> imposed the illusion, unknown to the ancients, -of Nature as accessible to the reason of man, altogether penetrated -by it, and always harmonious. Friedrich Nietzsche was to insert these -pages in his book upon <i>The Birth of Tragedy.</i></p> - -<p>This charge pronounced against Socrates surprised his audience in -Basle. Wagner knew it, and in September, 1870, wrote to Nietzsche an -enthusiastic but extremely shrewd letter.</p> - -<p>"As for me, I cry out to you: That's it! you have got hold of the -truth, you touch the exact point with keen accuracy. I await with -admiration the series of work in which you will combat the errors of -popular dogmatism. But none the less you make me anxious, and I hope -with all my heart that you are not going to come a cropper. I would -also like to advise you not to expound your audacious views, which must -be so difficult to establish, in short brochures of limited range. -You are, I feel, profoundly penetrated with your ideas: you must -gather them together into a larger book of much wider scope. Then you -will find and will give us the <i>mot juste</i> on the divine blunders of -Socrates and Plato, those creators so wonderful as to exact adoration -even from us who forswear them! Our words, my dear friend, swell into -hymns when we consider the incomprehensible harmony of those essences, -so strange to our world! And what pride and hope animate us when, -returning on ourselves, we feel strongly and clearly that we can and -should achieve a work, outside the reach even of those masters!"</p> - -<p>None of the letters addressed by Nietzsche to Wagner have been -published. Have they been lost? Were they destroyed? Or are they -merely refused by Madame Cosima Wagner, who is perhaps not incapable -of rancour?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> The facts are unknown. However, we may be certain that -Nietzsche begged Wagner to ally himself with him, to aid him in -rendering clear those difficult views of his. Wagner replied:</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR FRIEND,</span>—How good it is to be able to exchange such letters! -There is no one to-day with whom I can talk as seriously as with -you—the Unique<a name="FNanchor_1_2" id="FNanchor_1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_2" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> excepted. God only knows what would happen to me -but for that! But I should be able to give myself up to the pleasure -of fighting with you against "Socratism" only on one condition, that -of having an enormous deal of time at my disposal, free from the -temptation of any better project—to speak quite plainly, I should have -to abandon all creative work. Division of labour is a good thing in -this connection. You can do much for me: you can take on your shoulders -a full half of the task assigned to me by fate. And so doing, you will -perhaps achieve the whole of your own destiny. I have never had much -success in my essays in Philology: you have never had much success in -your essays in music: and it is well that things should be so. As a -musician you would have come to much the same end to which I should -have come had I stuck obstinately to Philology. But Philology remains -in my blood; it directs me in my work as a musician. As for you, remain -a philologist, and keeping to Philology, allow yourself to be directed -by music. I mean what I say in a very serious spirit. You have taught -me within what base preconceptions a professional philologist is to-day -expected to imprison himself—I have taught you in what an unspeakable -den a genuine 'absolute' musician must to-day waste himself. Show us -what Philology ought to be, and help me to prepare the way for that -great 'Renaissance' in which Plato will embrace Homer, and in which -Homer, penetrated by the ideas of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> Plato, will be at last and for the -first time the sublime Homer ..."</p> - -<p>At this instant Nietzsche had conceived his work, and was making -ready to write it at a spurt. "Science, art, and philosophy grow so -intimately within me," he said in February to Rohde, "that I am about -to give birth to a centaur."</p> - -<p>Professional duties, however, interrupted this flight. In March he was -appointed titular professor. The honour flattered him, the duties kept -him occupied. At the same time he was given the care of a class of -higher rhetoric; then he was asked to draw up in the noblest Latin an -address of congratulation to Professor Baumbrach, of Fribourg, who had -taught for fifty years in the University of that town. Nietzsche, who -never shirked anything, applied himself to the preparation of his class -and the composition of his discourse. In April, more work. Ritschl -founded a review, the <i>Acta societatis philologic? Lipsi?,</i> and desired -that his best pupil should contribute to it. Nietzsche did not haggle -over the help asked of him. He promised his copy, and wrote to Rohde to -ask for his collaboration also.</p> - -<p>"Personally, I feel most strongly that I am under an obligation," he -wrote. "And, notwithstanding that this work will put me out at the -moment, I am quite committed to it. We must collaborate for the first -number. You are aware that certain persons will read it with curiosity, -with malevolence. Therefore, it <i>must</i> be good. I have promised my -faithful help—answer me."</p> - -<p>May and then June, 1870, came. Friedrich Nietzsche seems to have been -occupied, above all else, with his work for the <i>Acta.</i> During the -holidays at Pentecost,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> Rohde, on his way back from Italy, stopped at -Basle. Nietzsche was delighted, he wished Wagner to make his friend's -acquaintance, and brought him to Triebschen. They spent a fine day -together, on the brink of an abyss which none of them apparently -perceived. Rohde, continuing on his road to Germany, left Basle. -Nietzsche remained alone, the victim of a foolish accident. He had -given himself a strain and was forced to be up.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Had he given any attention to the rumours of war which troubled Europe -in 1870? It seems not. He was little curious of news, and scarcely -read the newspapers. Not that he was indifferent to his country, but -he conceived it, in the manner of Goethe, as a source of art and moral -grandeur. One of his thoughts, one alone, is perhaps inspired by -the public unrest. "No war," he writes; "the State would become too -strong thereby." No doubt we have here, besides one of Nietzsche's -own impressions, an echo of the conversations of Triebschen: Wagner -recruited his most ardent admirers in Southern Germany, in the -Rhineland, in Bavaria, where his protector Louis II. reigned; the -Germans of the North appreciated him badly, the Berliners worst of all, -and he had no wish for a warlike crisis which would certainly have the -effect of adding to the weight of Prussian dictation. The State to -which Nietzsche pointed in his short note was the Prussian State. He -foresaw, and like his master dreaded, the imminent hegemony of Berlin, -that despised town of bureaucrats and bankers, of journalists and Jews.</p> - -<p>On July 14th, a convalescent, stretched out on his long chair, he wrote -to his comrade, Erwin Rohde. He spoke to him of Richard Wagner and of -Hans von Bülow, of art and of friendship. Suddenly he stops in the -middle of a phrase, marking with a blank line the interruption of his -thought.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Here is a terrible thunderclap," he wrote. "The Franco-German war -is declared; a demon alights upon all our culture, already worn -threadbare. What are we about to experience?</p> - -<p>"Friend, dear friend, we met once more in the twilight of peace. To-day -what do all our aspirations signify? Perhaps we are at the beginning of -the end! What a gloomy sight. Cloisters will become necessary. And we -shall be the first friars."</p> - -<p>He signed himself <i>The Loyal Swiss.</i> This unexpected signature may be -explained in a literal manner. In order to be appointed a professor at -Basle, Friedrich Nietzsche had had to renounce his nationality. But -assuredly it indicated more than this. It announced his detachment of -mind: he had decided on the rôle of the contemplator.</p> - -<p>What a misunderstanding of himself! He was too young, too brave, too -much enamoured of his race, to adopt the part of spectator only in -the imminent drama. As "a loyal Swiss," and as such dispensed from -military duties, he quietly took up his abode with his sister Lisbeth -in a mountain inn, where he wrote out some pages on Greek lyricism. It -was then that he formulated for the first time his definition of the -Dionysian and Apollonian spirits. Nevertheless, the German armies were -crossing the Rhine and gaining their first victories, and it was not -without emotion that Nietzsche heard the news. The thought of lofty -deeds in which he had no part, of perils from which he was preserved, -troubled his meditations.</p> - -<p>On July 20th, writing to Madame Ritschl, he expressed the thoughts -which occupied his solitude. First he gave expression to a fear which, -as it seemed, the memory of a Greece ruined by the conflict of Sparta -and Athens inspired in him. "Unhappy, historical analogies teach us -that the very traditions of culture may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> destroyed by the bitterness -of such a war of nations." But he also expressed the emotion which -had begun to seize him. "How I am ashamed of this inactivity in which -I am kept, now that the instant has come when I might be applying -what I learned in the artillery. Naturally I make myself ready for an -energetic course of action, in case things should take a bad turn; -do you know that the students of Kiel have enlisted together, with -enthusiasm?" On the morning of August 7th he read in his paper the -dispatches from Wörth: <i>German victory: Enormous losses.</i> He could no -longer remain in his retreat. He returned to Basle, asked and obtained -from the Swiss authorities permission to serve in the ambulance corps, -and proceeded at once to Germany to enlist for the war which allured -him.</p> - -<p>He crossed conquered Alsace: he saw the charnel houses of Wissembourg -and of Wörth: on August 29th he bivouacked not far from Strassburg, -where conflagrations lit up the horizon; then he made his way, by -Lunéville and Nancy, towards the country around Metz, now converted -into an immense ambulance, where the wounded of Mars-la-Tour, -Gravelotte and Saint-Privat, so numerous that it was difficult to nurse -them, were dying of their wounds and of infectious illnesses. Some -unfortunates were given into his charge: he did his duty with kindness -and courage, but experienced a singular emotion, a sacred and almost -enthusiastic horror. For the first time he considered without repulsion -the labour of the masses. He watched those millions of beings, some -struck down and marked by death, others marching the roads or standing -under arms: he considered them without contempt, he esteemed their -destiny. Under the menaces of war, these men have something momentous -about them. They forget their vain thoughts; they march, they sing, -they obey their chiefs; they die. Friedrich Nietzsche was recompensed -for his pains; a fraternal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> impulse uplifted his soul, he no longer -felt his solitude, he loved the simple people who surrounded him. "All -my military passions awake," he writes, "and I cannot satisfy them! I -would have been at Rezonville, at Sedan, actively, passively perhaps. -This Swiss neutrality always ties my hands."</p> - -<p>His passage through France was rapid. He received orders to convey the -wounded in his care to the hospital at Carlsruhe.</p> - -<p>He set out and was shut up, for three days and three nights, with -eleven men, lying in a market cart closed fast against the cold and -the rain. Two of the wounded who accompanied him were attacked by -diphtheria, all had dysentery. "To reach truth," says a German mystic, -"the most rapid mount is Affliction." Friedrich Nietzsche recalled -this maxim of which he was so fond. He tried his courage, verified his -thoughts. He dressed the sores of his wounded, he listened to their -complaints, their appeals, and did not interrupt his meditation. Till -now he had known only his books; now he knew life. He relished this -bitter ordeal, always discerning some far-off beauty. "I, also, I have -my hopes," he was to write; "thanks to them I was able to look on at -the war and to pursue my meditations without pause, in presence of -the worst horrors.... I recall a solitary night during which I lay -stretched out in a market van with the wounded men confided to me and -never ceased to explore in thought the three abysses of tragedy which -have for names: <i>Wahn, Wille, Wehe</i>—Illusion, Will, Affliction. Whence -then did I draw the confident certitude that he should undergo in -birth a similar ordeal, the hero to come of tragic knowledge and Greek -gaiety?"</p> - -<p>He arrived at Carlsruhe with his sick and wounded; he had contracted -their illness and was attacked by dysentery and diphtheria. An unknown -who had been his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> ambulance companion nursed him devotedly. As soon as -he was well again, Nietzsche went to his home at Naumburg, there to -seek not repose, but an entire leisure from work and thought.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he wrote to his friend Gersdorff, who was fighting in -France—"Yes, that conception of things which is common to us has -undergone the ordeal by fire. I have had the same experience as you. -For me, as for you, these weeks will remain in my life as an epoch -in which each one of my principles re-affirmed itself in me; I would -have risked death with them.... Now I am at Naumburg again, but poorly -restored to health so far. The atmosphere in which I have lived has -been long over me like a dark cloud; I heard an incessant lamentation."</p> - -<p>Once already, in July, 1865, during the campaign at Sadowa, he had -known war, and undergone its allurement. A simple and great aspiration -had laid hold of him; and for a moment he had felt himself in accord -with his race. "I feel a patriotic emotion," he wrote; "it is a new -experience for me." He grasped at this sudden exaltation and cultivated -it.</p> - -<p>Indeed, his is a changed soul. He is no longer the "loyal Swiss" of -another time; he is a man among men, a German proud of his Germany. A -war has transformed him; he glorifies war. War awakes the energy of -men; it even troubles their spirits. It obliges them to seek in an -ideal order, an order of beauty and duty, the ends of a life which is -too cruel. The lyric poet, the sage, misunderstood in ages of peace, -are heard with respect in ages of war. Then men have need of them, -and are conscious of their need. The same necessity which ranges them -behind their chiefs renders them attentive to genius. Humanity is made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -truly one, and is drawn towards the heroic and the sublime, only under -the pressure of war.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche, though still very weak and suffering, again took -up the notes of his book that he might record in it his new ideas. In -Greece, he argues, art was the visible form of a society, disciplined -by struggle, from the workshop, where the captive slave laboured, up -to the gymnasium and the agora, where the free man played with arms. -Such was that winged figure, that goddess of Samothrace, that had for -companion of her flight a bloody trireme.</p> - -<p>The Greek genius emanated from war, it sang war, it had war for its -comrade. "It is the people of the tragic mysteries," wrote Friedrich -Nietzsche, "who strike the great blow of the Persian battles; in -return, the people who have maintained these wars need the salutary -beverage of tragedy." We follow in his notes the movement of a -mind which wishes to grasp the very idea of the tragic, athwart a -vaguely-known Greece. Again and again we find this word <i>tragic</i> -brought in as if it were a fundamental strain which the young -thinker trains himself to repeat, like a child trying to learn a new -word:—"Tragic Greece conquers the Persians.... Tragic man is nature -itself in its highest strength of creation and knowledge: he trifles -with sorrow...." Three formulas satisfy his research for a moment. -"The tragic work of Art—the tragic Man—the tragic State." Thus he -determined the three essential parts of his book, which he would -entitle as a whole: <i>The Tragic Man.</i></p> - -<p>Let us not misunderstand the real object of his meditations: this -society, this discipline which he discerned in the past, were in -reality the ideal forms of the Fatherland which he desired and for -which he dared to hope. He saw on the one hand Latin Europe, weakened -by utilitarianism and the softness of life, on the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> Germany, rich -in poets, in soldiers, in myths, in victories. She was suzerain of -those races which were in process of decay. How would she exercise this -suzerainty? Might not one augur from her triumph a new era, warlike -and tragic, chivalrous and lyric? One could conceive it; and therefore -one should hope for it, and this was enough to dictate one's duty. How -glorious this Germany would be, with Bismarck as its chief, Moltke as -its soldier, Wagner as its poet—its philosopher, too, existed, and -was called Friedrich Nietzsche. This belief, though he expressed it -nowhere, he surely had: for he had not a doubt as to his genius.</p> - -<p>He was elated, but did not let his dreams lead him astray: he imagined -an ideal Fatherland, yet never lost from sight the Fatherland, human, -too human, which actually existed.</p> - -<p>During October and the first days of November, alone with his own -people in that Naumburg whose provincial virtues he did not love, -he bore hardly with the vulgarity of the little people, of the -functionaries with whom he mixed. Naumburg was a small Prussian town; -Friedrich Nietzsche did not care for this robust and vulgar Prussia. -Metz had capitulated; the finest army of France was taken captive: a -delirium of conceit swept all Germany off its feet. Friedrich Nietzsche -resisted the general tendency. The sentiment of triumph was a repose -which his exacting soul might not know. On the contrary, he was -disgusted and alarmed.</p> - -<p>"I fear," he wrote to his friend Gersdorff, "that we shall have to pay -for our marvellous national victories at a price to which I, for my -part, will never consent. In confidence—I am of opinion that modern -Prussia is a Power highly dangerous to culture.... The enterprise is -not easy, but we must be philosophers enough to keep our sang-froid in -the midst of all this smoke, we must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> keep watch so that no robber may -come and steal any part of what, in my opinion, is commensurable with -nothing beside, not even the most heroic of military actions, not even -our national exaltation."</p> - -<p>Then a document appeared which deeply moved Friedrich Nietzsche. It -was the date of the centenary of Beethoven. The Germans, occupied with -their war, had neglected to commemorate it. Richard Wagner's voice was -raised, it alone was strong enough to recall to the conquerors the -memory of another glory: "Germans, you are brave," he cried; "remain -brave in peace.... In this marvellous year 1870 nothing is better -suited to your pride in being brave than the memory of the great -Beethoven.... Let us celebrate that great pioneer and path-hewer, let -us celebrate him worthily, not less worthily than the victory of German -courage: for he who gives joy to the world is raised higher among men -than he who conquers the world."</p> - -<p><i>Germans, you are brave; remain brave in peace</i>—no saying could move -Friedrich Nietzsche more deeply. He desired to be near the master -again, and, though not yet restored to health, he left Naumburg.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>He saw Richard Wagner again and was not entirely satisfied. This man, -who had been so splendid in misfortune, seemed to have lost stature. -There was a vulgar quality in his joy. Well had the German victory -avenged him for those Parisian cat-calls and railleries which he had -had to endure; now he "ate Frenchmen" with an enormous and peaceable -relish. Nevertheless he declined certain offers; he was promised the -highest office and honours if he accepted residence in Berlin. He -refused, being unwilling to let himself be enthroned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> as poet-laureate -of a Prussian Empire; and his disciple was thankful for the refusal.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche found at Basle an even better confidant of his -anxieties. The historian Jacob Burckhardt, a great scholar of arts and -civilisations, was melancholy; all brutality was odious to him, and he -detested war and its destruction. A citizen of the last city in Europe -which maintained its independence and its old customs, proud of this -independence and of these customs, Jacob Burckhardt disliked those -nations of thirty or forty millions of souls which he saw establishing -themselves. To the designs of Bismarck and of Cavour he preferred the -counsel of Aristotle—"So arrange that the number of citizens does not -exceed ten thousand; otherwise they would not be able to meet together -on the public square."</p> - -<p>He had studied Athens, Venice, Florence, and Sienna. He held in high -esteem the ancient and Latin disciplines, in very moderate esteem -the German disciplines: he dreaded German hegemony. Burckhardt and -Nietzsche were colleagues. They often met in the intervals between two -lectures. Then they would talk and, on fine days, stroll together along -that terrace over which all European travellers lean, that is between -the cathedral of red sandstone and the Rhine, here so young still but -already so strong, as it passes with a long murmur of ruffled waters. -The simply-built University is situated quite near, on the slope, -between the river and the Museum.</p> - -<p>The two colleagues were eternally examining their common thought. How -should that tradition of culture and beauty be continued, that fragile -and oft-broken tradition which two tiny States, Attica and Tuscany, -have transmitted to our care? France had not deserved censure; she -had known how to maintain the methods and a school of taste. But had -Prussia the qualities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> fitting her heritage? Friedrich Nietzsche -repeated the expression of his hope. "Perhaps," said he, "this war will -have transformed our old Germany; I see her more virile, endowed with -a firmer and more delicate taste." Jacob Burckhardt listened. "No," -said he, "you are always thinking of the Greeks, for whom war had no -doubt an educative virtue. But modern wars are superficial; they do -not reach, they do not correct the bourgeois, <i>laissez-aller</i> style of -life. They are rare; their impressions are soon effaced; they are soon -forgotten; they do not exercise people's thought." What did Nietzsche -answer? A letter to Erwin Rohde enables us to divine the ill-assured -accent of his observations. "I am very anxious," he writes, "as regards -the immediate future. I seem to recognise there the Middle Ages in -disguise.... Be careful to free yourself from this fatal Prussia, with -its repugnance to culture! Flunkeys and priests sprout from its soil -like mushrooms, and they are going to darken all Germany with their -smoke!"</p> - -<p>Jacob Burckhardt, long a recluse amid his memories and his books, had -the habit of melancholy and made the best of it. By way of discreet -protest against the enthusiasms of his contemporaries, he delivered a -lecture upon <i>Historical Greatness.</i> "Do not take for true greatness," -said he to the students of Basle, "such and such a military triumph, -such and such an expansion of a State. How many nations have been -powerful who are forgotten and merit their oblivion! Historical -greatness is a rarer thing; it lies wholly in the works of those men -whom we call great men, using that vague term because we cannot truly -fathom their nature. Some unknown genius leaves us <i>Notre Dame de -Paris;</i> Goethe gives us his Faust; Newton his law of the Solar System. -This is greatness, and this alone." Friedrich Nietzsche listened and -applauded. "Burckhardt," wrote he, "is becoming a Schopenhauerian...." -But a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> wise words do not satisfy his ardour. Nor can he so quickly -renounce the hope which he has conceived; he wishes to act, to save his -Fatherland from the moral disaster which in his judgment menaces her.</p> - -<p>How act? Here was a sluggish people, not easily aroused, lacking in -sensitiveness, a people stunted by democracy, a people in revolt -against every noble aspiration: by what artifice could one sustain -among them the imperilled ideal, the love of heroism and of the -sublime? Nietzsche formed a project which was so audacious and so -advanced that he meditated long upon it without confiding in any one. -Richard Wagner was then working to establish that theatre of Bayreuth -in which he hoped to realise his epic creation in complete freedom. -Nietzsche dared to imagine a different institution, but one of the -same order; a kind of seminary where the young philosophers, his -friends, Rohde, Gersdorff, Deussen, Overbeck, Romundt should meet, live -together and, free from duties, liberated from administrative tutelage, -meditate, under the guidance of certain masters, on the problems of -the hour. A double home of art and of thought would thus maintain at -the heart of Germany, above the crowd and apart from the State, the -traditions of the spiritual life. "Cloisters will become necessary," he -had written to Erwin Rohde in July; six months' experience brought back -this idea. "Here assuredly is the strangest thing which this time of -war and victory has raised up; <i>a modern anchoritism</i>—an impossibility -of living in accord with the State."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche let himself be drawn away by this dream, the -unreality of which he failed to recognise. He was imagining a reunion -of solitaries, similar to the Port Royal des Champs. He knew that such -a society did not accord with the manners and tastes of his times, but -he judged it to be necessary and believed that he had strength enough -to establish or impose it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> - -<p>A profound instinct inspired and directed him. That old college of -Pforta had been monachal in its origins, in its buildings and in its -very walls, in the lasting gravity and ordered rule of life. Thus he -had, as a child, received the impress of what was almost the life of -a religious. He kept the memory of it, and the nostalgia. During his -years at the University he had constantly sought to isolate himself -from the world by surrounding himself with friends. He studied Greece, -and the antique wisdom nourished his soul: he loved Pythagoras -and Plato, the one the founder, the other the poet, of the finest -brotherhood that man had ever conceived, the close and sovereign -aristocracy of sages armed, of meditative knights. Thus did Christian -humanity and Pagan humanity, united by a remote harmony, concur with -his thoughts and his aspirations.</p> - -<p>He wished to write an open letter to his friends, known and unknown; -but he would only call them at the favourable moment, and till then -would keep his secret. "Give me two years," he wrote to his friend -Gersdorff enthusiastically and mysteriously, "and you will see a -new conception of antiquity diffuse itself, which must bring a new -spirit into the scientific and moral education of the nation!" Towards -mid-December he believed that the moment had come. Erwin Rohde wrote -him a melancholy letter, a very feeble echo of the passionate letters -which Nietzsche had addressed to him. "Soon we shall need cloisters -..." he said, repeating the same idea expressed six months earlier by -his friend. It was but a word; Friedrich Nietzsche saw in it a sign of -spontaneous agreement, a presage of enthusiastic collaboration, and he -wrote in a joyous transport:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRIEND,</span>—I received your letter and I answer it without losing -a minute. Above all I wish to tell you that I feel <i>altogether</i> -like you, and that we shall be, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> my opinion, very weak, if, -abandoning our feeble complaints, we do not deliver ourselves from -ennui by an energetic act.... I have at last understood the bearing -of Schopenhauer's judgments on the philosophy of the universities. No -radical truth is possible there. No revolutionary truth can come out -from there.... We shall reject this yoke; to me that is certain. And we -shall then form a new Greek academy: Romundt will be of our company.</p> - -<p>"You know, since your visit to Triebschen, the projects of Bayreuth. -For a long time, without confiding in any one, I have been considering -whether it would not be suitable for us to break with philology and -<i>its perspectives of culture.</i> I am preparing a great <i>adhortatio</i> -for all those who are not yet completely captured and stifled by the -manners of this present time. What a pity that I must write to you, and -that for long we have not been able to examine in conversation each of -my thoughts! To you who know not their turnings and their consequences, -my plan will perhaps appear as an eccentric caprice. That, it is not; -it is a necessity.</p> - -<p>"... Let us try to reach a little island on which there will be -no longer need to close one's ears with wax. Then we shall be one -another's masters. Our books, from now till then, are but hooks to -catch our friends, a public for our æsthetic and monachal association. -Let us live, let us work, let us enjoy for one another's sake; in that -manner only, perhaps, shall we be able to work for the <i>whole.</i> I may -tell you (see how serious is my design) that I have already commenced -to reduce my expenses in order to constitute a little reserve fund. We -shall gamble in order to try our 'luck'; as to the books which we shall -be able to write, I shall demand the highest honorarium as a provision -for coming times. In brief, we shall neglect no lawful means of success -in founding our cloister. We also have our duty for the next two years!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> - -<p>"May this plan seem to you worthy of meditation! Your last letter, -moving as it was, signified to me that the time had come to unveil it -for you.</p> - -<p>"Shall we not be able to introduce a new form of Academy into the world?</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -'Und sollt' ich nicht, sehnsuchtigster Gewalt,<br /> -In's Leben ziehn die einzigster Gestalt?'<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Thus Faust speaks of Helen. No one knows anything of my project, and -now it depends upon you to see that Romundt is advised of it.</p> - -<p>"Assuredly, our school of philosophy is neither an historical -reminiscence nor an arbitrary caprice; is it not a <i>necessity</i> that -pushes us on to that road? It seems that the plan of our student days, -that voyage which we were to make together, returns in a new form, -symbolic now and vaster than it was. On this occasion, I won't leave -you in the lurch as I then did. That memory always annoys me.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;">"With my best hopes, your faithful</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 65%;">"FRATER FRIEDRICH.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>"From the 23rd of December till the 1st of January I go to Triebschen, -near Lucerne."</p> - -<p>On the 22nd of December Friedrich Nietzsche left Lucerne: he had -received no reply from Rohde. He found the house at Triebschen in high -festival with children's games and the preparations for Christmas. -Madame Wagner gave him a volume of Stendhal, <i>Les Promenades dans -Rome.</i> He offered Wagner the famous woodcut of Dürer's of <i>The Knight, -the Dog, and Death,</i> on which he had written a commentary for the -book he was then preparing, <i>The Origin of Tragedy:</i> "A spirit which -feels itself isolated, desperate and solitary," he wrote, "could -choose no better symbol than that rider of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> Dürer's, who, unperturbed -by his gruesome companions and yet wholly without hope, pursues his -terrible path alone with dog and horse. This rider of Dürer's is our -Schopenhauer: he was without hope, but he desired the truth. His like -does not exist." Nietzsche would have been happy in the master's house -if he had not been expecting Rohde's reply: the waiting worried him. -He stopped for a week at Triebschen. Wagner was never done talking -about Bayreuth and his vast projects. Nietzsche, too, had his thought -which he would have joyfully uttered; but first he wanted his friend's -approbation, and that approbation did not come. He left without having -received a word or spoken one on the subject.</p> - -<p>At last, at Basle, he received the too long-desired letter: an -honest, affectionate, but negative reply. "You tell me that cloisters -are necessary to-day," wrote Rohde. "I believe it. But there are -necessities for which no remedy exists. How can we find the money? -And even when we shall have found the money, I do not know that I -shall follow you; I do not feel in me a creative force which renders -me worthy of the solitude whither you call me. For a Schopenhauer, a -Beethoven, a Wagner, the case is different, as it is for you, dear -friend. But, as I am in question, no! I must hope for a different life. -Still let us entertain the wish for such a retreat, among certain -friends, in a cloister of the muses; I agree to that. Deprived of -desires, what would we become?"</p> - -<p>If Rohde refused to follow him, who would follow him? He did not write -his <i>Adhortatio;</i> Romundt was not advised, and even Wagner, it seems, -knew nothing of the proposal.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Nietzsche made no vain complaints, but set to work to elaborate alone -those revolutionary truths for which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> he would have wished to contrive -a kindlier manner of birth. He turned his back upon Germany, upon -those modern States which have it as their mission to flatter the -servilities, soften the conflicts, and favour the idleness of men. -He considered anew primitive Greece, the city of the seventh and the -sixth centuries; thither a mysterious attraction ever drew him back. -Was it the seduction of a perfect beauty? Doubtless, but it was also -the seduction of that strength and cruelty which a modern conceals -as he conceals a stain, and which the old Greeks practised with joy. -Nietzsche loved strength; on the battlefield of Metz he had felt within -him the appetite and instinct.</p> - -<p>"If," he wrote, "genius and art are the final ends of Greek culture, -then all the forms of Greek society must appear to us as necessary -mechanisms and stepping-stones towards that final end. Let us -discover what means were utilised by the will to act which animated -the Greeks...." He discerns and names one of these means: slavery. -"Frederick Augustus Wolf," he notes, "has shown us that slavery is -necessary to culture. There is one of the powerful thoughts of my -predecessor." He grasped it, held it to him, and forced it to disclose -its whole meaning. This idea, suddenly discovered, inspired him; it was -profound and moved him to the depths of his being; it was cruel, almost -monstrous, and satisfied his romantic taste. He shuddered before it, he -admired its sombre beauty.</p> - -<p>"It may be that this knowledge fills us with terror," he wrote; 'I -such terror is the almost necessary effect of all the most profound -knowledge. For nature is still a frightful thing, even when intent on -creating the most beautiful forms. It is so arranged that culture, in -its triumphal march, benefits only a trivial minority of privileged -mortals, and it is necessary that the slave service of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> the great -masses be maintained, if one wish to attain to a full joy in becoming -<i>(werde lust).</i></p> - -<p>"We moderns have been accustomed to oppose two principles against the -Greeks, the one and the other invented to reassure a society of an -altogether servile kind which anxiously avoids the world, <i>slave:</i> we -talk of the 'dignity of man' and the 'dignity of labour.'</p> - -<p>"The language of the Greeks is other. They declare in simple terms that -work is a disgrace, for it is impossible that a man occupied with the -labour of gaining a livelihood should ever become an artist....</p> - -<p>"So let us avow this cruel sounding truth: slavery is necessary to -culture; a truth which assuredly leaves no doubt as to the absolute -value of being.</p> - -<p>"The misery of those men who live by labour must be made yet more -vigorous, in order that a very few Olympian men may create a world -of art.... At their expense, by the artifice of unpaid labour, the -privileged classes should be relieved from the struggle for life, and -given such conditions that they can create, and satisfy a new order of -needs.... And if it is true to say that the Greeks were destroyed by -slavery, this other affirmation is, most certainly, even truer: for -lack of slavery, we are perishing."</p> - -<p>But what was the origin of this very institution of slavery? How was -the submission of the slave, that "blind mole of culture," secured? -The Greeks teach us, answered Nietzsche: "The conquered belongs to the -conqueror," they say, "with his wives and his children, his goods and -his blood. Power gives the first <i>right,</i> and there is no right which -is not at bottom appropriation, usurpation, power." Thus Nietzsche's -thought was brought back towards its first object. The war had inspired -him in the first instance. Now he rediscovers that solution. In sorrow -and in tragedy, men had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> invented beauty; into sorrow and into tragedy -they must be plunged, and there retained that their sense of beauty -might be preserved. In pages which have the accent and rhythm of a -hymn, Friedrich Nietzsche glorifies and invokes war:</p> - -<p>"Here you have the State, of shameful origin; for the greater part of -men, a well of suffering that is never dried, a flame that consumes -them in its frequent crises. And yet when it calls, our souls become -forgetful of themselves; at its bloody appeal the multitude is urged to -courage and uplifted to heroism. Yes, the State is to the blind masses, -perhaps, the highest and most worthy of aims; it is, perhaps, the State -which, in its formidable hours, stamps upon every face the singular -expression of greatness.</p> - -<p>"Some tie, some mysterious affinity, exists between the State and art, -between political activity and artistic production, the battlefield -and the work of art. What is the rôle of the State? It is the tenaille -of steel which binds society together. Without the State, in natural -conditions—<i>bellum omnium contra omnes</i>—society would remain limited -by the family, and could not project its roots afar. By the universal -institution of States, that instinct which formerly determined the -<i>bellum omnium contra omnes</i> has been concentrated; at certain epochs -terrible clouds of war menace the peoples and discharge themselves at -one great clap, in lightnings and thunders, fiercer as they are less -frequent. But these crises are not continual; between one and another -of them society breathes again; regenerated by the action of war, it -breaks on every side into blossom and verdure, and, when the first fine -days come, puts forth dazzling fruits of genius.</p> - -<p>"If I leave the Greek world and examine our own, I recognise, I avow -it, symptoms of degeneration which give me fears both for society and -for art. Certain men,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> in whom the instinct of the State is lacking, -wish, no longer to serve it, but to make it serve them, to use it for -their personal ends. They see nothing of the divine in it; and, in -order to utilise it, in a sure and rational manner, they are concerned -to evade the shocks of war: they set out deliberately to organise -things in such a manner that war becomes an impossibility. On the one -hand they conjure up systems of European equilibrium, on the other -hand they do their best to deprive absolute sovereigns of the right -to declare war, in order that they may thus appeal the more easily -to the egoism of the masses, and of those who represent them. They -feel it incumbent on them to weaken the monarchical instinct of the -masses, and do weaken it, by propagating among them the liberal and -optimistic conception of the world, a conception which has its roots in -the doctrines of French rationalism and the Revolution; that is, in a -philosophy altogether foreign to the German spirit, a Latin platitude, -devoid of any metaphysical meaning.</p> - -<p>"The movement, to-day triumphant, of nationalities, the extension of -universal suffrage which runs parallel to this movement, seem to me to -be determined above all by <i>the fear of war.</i> And behind these diverse -agitations, I perceive those who are chiefly moved by this alarm, the -solitaries of international finance, who, being by nature denuded of -any instinct for the State, subordinate politics, the State and society -to their money-making and speculative ends.</p> - -<p>"If the spirit of speculation is not thus to debase the spirit of the -State, we must have war and war again—there is no other means. In -the exaltation which it procures, it becomes clear to men that the -State has not been founded to protect egoistical individuals against -the demon of war; quite the contrary: love of country, devotion to -one's prince, help to excite a moral impulse which is the symbol of -a far higher destiny.... It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> will not therefore be thought that I do -ill when I raise here the pæan of war. The resonance of its silver -bow is terrible. It comes to us sombre as night: nevertheless Apollo -accompanies it, Apollo, the rightful leader of states, the god who -purifies them.... Let us say it then: war is necessary to the State, -as the slave is to society. No one will be able to avoid these -conclusions, if he have sought the causes of the perfection which Greek -art attained, and Greek art alone."</p> - -<p><i>War and yet again war which exalts the peoples:</i> such was the cry of -the solitary. He had but to drop his pen, to listen and look around -him, and he saw the pedantic empire and repressed his hopes. "We follow -the trouble of his thought. He hesitates, he records at the same moment -the abiding illusion and the inevitable disillusion:</p> - -<p>"I could have imagined," he writes, "that the Germans had embarked -on this war to save Venus from the Louvre, like a second Helen. It -would have been the spiritual interpretation of their combat. The fine -antique severity inaugurated by this war—for the time to be grave has -come—we think that is the time for <i>art</i> also."</p> - -<p>He continued to write; his thought becomes clearer and more melancholy: -"The State, when it cannot achieve its highest aim, grows beyond -measure. The World Empire of the Romans, in face of Athens, has nothing -of the sublime. This sap, which should all run to the flowers, resides -now in the leaves and stalks, which swell to an immense size."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - -<p>Rome troubled him; he disliked it; he judged it a slur upon antiquity. -That city, warlike, but ever plebeian, victorious, but ever vulgar, -filled him with gloomy fore-thought:</p> - - -<p>"Rome," he wrote, "is the typical barbaric state: the will cannot -there attain to its noble ends. The organisation is more vigorous, the -morality more oppressive ... who venerates this colossus?"</p> - -<p><i>Who venerates this colossus?</i> Let us give a modern and pressing -application to these interrogatory words. The colossus is not Rome, it -is Prussia and her empire. Narrow was the soil of Athens or of Sparta, -and brief their day; but what did that matter if the object, which -was spiritual strength and beauty, was attained? Friedrich Nietzsche -was haunted by this vision of Greece with its hundred rival cities, -raising between mountains and sea their acropoles, their temples, their -statues, all resounding with the rhythm of pæans, all glorious and -alert.</p> - -<p>"The sentiment of Hellenism," he wrote, "as soon as it is awakened, -becomes aggressive and translates itself into a combat against the -culture of the present day."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche suffered from the wounds which life inflicted -upon his lyrical dream. His friends listened to him, but followed him -imperfectly. The professor, Franz Overbeck, who lived in his house and -saw him every day, was a man of distinction, with a strong and acute -mind. A German by birth, a Frenchman by education, he understood the -problems of the day, and joined in the anxieties and intentions of -Nietzsche; but his ardour could not equal Nietzsche's. Jacob Burckhardt -was a man of noble intellect and character, but he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> without hope, -and Friedrich Nietzsche passionately desired to hope. No doubt, there -was Wagner, whom neither passion nor hope ever could surprise, but he -had just published an Aristophanic buffoonery directed against the -conquered Parisians. Friedrich Nietzsche read this gross work, and -condemned it. Overbeck and Burckhardt lacked ardour; Wagner lacked -delicacy; and Nietzsche confided in no one. A chair of philosophy had -just been vacated in the University of Basle. Nietzsche took fire -at once. He wrote to Erwin Rohde, and told him that he should apply -for this chair, and that he would assuredly secure it. Thus the two -friends were to meet again. Vain hope! Erwin Rohde presented himself -as a candidate, but was not accepted. Nietzsche reproached himself for -having lured on his friend. He grew melancholy. He felt himself drawn -"like a little whirlpool into a dead sea of night and oblivion."</p> - -<p>He had never recovered entirely from the ordeals of the war. Neither -sleep nor sure and certain health were ever at his call again. In -February the nervous force which had sustained him suddenly gave way, -and his disorders assumed an acute form. Violent neuralgas, insomnia, -troubles and weaknesses of the eyesight, stomach ills, jaundice -represented the nature of the crisis which had been tormenting him for -five months. The doctors, quite at a loss, advised him to give up work -and to take a voyage. Friedrich Nietzsche sent for his sister, who came -to Naumburg. He brought her to pay a farewell visit to Triebschen, and -left for Lugano.</p> - -<p>At that time the railway did not cross the Alps. Travellers went by -diligence over the ridge of the St. Gothard. Chance furnished Nietzsche -with a remarkable companion, an old man of a talkative humour, and with -no desire to conceal his identity: it was Mazzini. The old humanitarian -and the young apostle of slavery hit it off wonderfully well. Mazzini -cited Goethe's phrase:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<i>Sich des halben zu entwohnen und im Ganzen, Vollen, Schönen resolut -zu leben</i>" (To abjure half-measures, and to live resolutely in the -Whole, the Full, the Beautiful). Friedrich Nietzsche never forgot the -energetic maxim, nor the man who had transmitted it to him, nor this -day of rapid and healthful travel, not far from those summits which he -was afterwards to love so much.</p> - -<p>The fine mountain crossing amid the snow and silence of the Alps had -sufficed. He was almost cured on his arrival at Lugano. His nature was -still supple and youthful; his returns to life were prompt and radiant; -a naïve gaiety re-animated all his being. He spent two happy months -in Italian Switzerland. A Prussian officer, a relation of General von -Moltke, was staying at his hotel. He lent him his manuscripts and often -talked to him of the destinies of the new German Empire and of the -aristocratic warrior's mission which the victory had conferred upon -it. It was a fine springtide for the numerous Germans who had come to -rest at the place: they liked to gather round their young philosopher -and listen to him. February began, the war was over, and these happy -people, freed from all anxieties, abandoned themselves for the first -time to the pleasure of their triumph. They sang; they danced in -public up to the Market-place, and Nietzsche was not the least prompt -to rejoice with them, to dance and sing. "When I recall these days," -writes Madame Förster-Nietzsche, who gives us a sad and gracious -account of the time, "it seems to me that I am having a veritable dream -of Carnival."</p> - -<p>From Lugano, Friedrich Nietzsche wrote to Erwin Rohde:</p> - -<p>"I have very often suffered from a heavy and depressed mood. But more -than once inspiration has returned to me; my manuscript has benefited -from it. I have given<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> the go-by to philology in the most cavalier -fashion. They may praise me, they may blame me, they may promise me -the highest honours, they may talk as they choose; I turn my back upon -it. Every day I go deeper into my philosophic domain, and I begin to -have confidence in myself; better still, if I am ever to be a poet, -from to-day I feel myself disposed towards it. I do not know, I have no -means of knowing, whither my destiny guides me. And nevertheless, when -I examine myself, everything is in perfect accord within me, as though -I had followed some good genius. My ends are extremely hidden from me; -no concern for office, for hierarchic honours, directs my efforts; -and none the less I live in a surprising condition of clarity, of -serenity. What a sensation it is to see one's world before one, a fine -globe, round and complete! Now it is some fragment of a new metaphysic, -now it is a new æsthetic which grows up within me, now another idea -claims me, a new principle of education which entails the complete -rejection of our Universities and gymnasia. I never learn any fact but -it immediately finds a good place in some corner that has been long -prepared for it. This sentiment of an interior world which springs up -within me I feel in all its force when I think not coldly, but quietly -and without exaggerated enthusiasm, on the history of these last ten -months, on these events which I consider as the instruments of my noble -designs. Pride, folly, are words that feebly express my condition of -mental 'insomnia.'</p> - -<p>"Ah, how I desire health! As soon as one has something in view which -must last longer than oneself—how one gives thanks for every good -night, for every mild ray of sun, even for every occasion on which one -digests aright!"</p> - -<p>On the 10th of April, Nietzsche had returned to Basle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> He gathered his -notes together, re-read them for the last time, and fixed definitely -the plan of his work. He allowed those digressions upon war, slavery, -the city, of which we have already given some extracts, to drop, -and—Wagner, it is said, desired it—limited himself to his first -subject: ancient tragedy, the model and precursor of German musical -drama. Wagner's advice, Madame Förster-Nietzsche insinuates, was not -altogether disinterested; it suited him that his disciple's first work -should be consecrated to his fame. This has an air of probability; -still it certainly seems that Nietzsche had let himself be captured and -seduced by too many ideas, that he had not so much amassed the matter -for one book as begun, rather at hazard, a whole series of studies in -æsthetics, history, and politics. He needed to restrict himself, and -yet could not make up his mind to it. If Wagner helped him here, he did -well. Perhaps we owe the happy completion of this book to him—the only -real book which Nietzsche ever completed.</p> - -<p>What was it that he had to say? He was to analyse the origin and the -essence of the Greek lyric spirit; he was to set the two Greeces over -against one another, the one intoxicated by its myths and Dionysian -chants, strong in illusions—Æschylus's Greece, tragic and conquering -Greece; the other impious, rational, anæmic—Socratic Greece, -Alexandrine Greece, which in dying corrupted the peoples who had -remained young around her, the pure blood of primitive humanity. Then -he was to display the two Germanys in conflict in a like manner, the -Germany of the Democrats and the savants, the Germany of the soldiers -and the poets; between these two one had to choose. Nietzsche declared -his choice: beholden to Wagner, as he was, for all his tranquillity -of thought, for all his joys, he indicated Wagner to his compatriots. -While the peace was being signed at Frankfort between the nations, -Friedrich Nietzsche,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> thus establishing peace within himself, ended the -rough draft of his work. He remarked upon this coincidence of dates, -for his internal conflicts and the revolutions of his thought did not -appear to him less important events than external conflicts and the -revolutions of races.</p> - -<p>But the Peace of Frankfort did not terminate all the conflicts of this -terrible year. A civil war now broke out in France, and its calamities -stirred Europe even more profoundly than the battles of Frœschwiller -or Sedan. On the morning of the 23rd of May, the newspapers of Basle -announced the destruction of Paris and the burning of the Louvre. -Nietzsche learnt the news with a feeling of dismay: the most beautiful -works, the flower of human labour, were ruined; human hands, an unhappy -people, had dared this profanation. All Nietzsche's alarms were thus -confirmed. Without discipline, without an hierarchy, culture, he had -written, cannot subsist. All have not the right to share in beauty; the -immense majority should live humbly, work for their masters and revere -their lives. Such is the economy which assures strength to societies, -and, in return for their strength, delicacy, grace, beauty; and this -is the order which Europe hesitates to maintain. Nietzsche might now -have boasted of the correctness of his judgment; it was far from him -to do so. It was with alarm that he considered his perspicacity, his -solitude, and his responsibility. His thoughts suddenly turned to Jacob -Burckhardt; what melancholy must be his! He wished to see him, to talk -to him, to listen to him, to make his desolation his own. He hurried to -Burckhardt's house; but Burckhardt, though the hour was early, had gone -out. Nietzsche walked the roads like a desperate man. Finally he went -back. Jacob Burckhardt was in his study, and awaited him. He had gone -to seek his friend, as his friend had gone to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> seek him. The two men -remained for long together, and Fräulein Nietzsche, alone in the next -room, heard their sobs through the closed door.</p> - -<p>"Let us avow it," he writes to his friend, the Baron von Gersdorff, "we -are all, with all our past, responsible for the terrors which menace -us to-day. We shall do wrong, if we consider with a peaceful conceit -the unchaining of a war against culture, and if we impute the fault -merely to the unfortunates who do the deed. When I heard of the firing -of Paris, I was for some days utterly powerless, lost in tears and -doubts; the life of science, of philosophy and of art appeared to me as -an absurdity when I saw a single day suffice for the ruin of the finest -works of art; what do I say?—of entire periods of art. I profoundly -deplored the fact that the metaphysical value of art could not manifest -itself to the lower classes; but it has a higher mission to fulfil. -Never, however lively my affliction were, would I have cast the stone -at the sacrilegious, who in my eyes are only carriers of the mistake of -all—a mistake which gives cause for much thought...."</p> - -<p>In the autobiographical notes written in 1878 these words may be read: -"The War: my profoundest affliction, the burning of the Louvre."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche had gone back to his old way of life; almost every -week he was Wagner's guest. But soon he perceived that since the -German victory Triebschen had changed. Too many intimates made haste -to the master's house, too many unknown people invaded the abode whose -peaceful seclusion he had loved. They were not all of the sort that -Nietzsche would have desired; but Wagner talked, discoursed, overflowed -with them all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> Judging that the favourable moment had come, he had set -out to rouse Germany and secure at last the construction and gift of -the hall which he needed, the theatre, or the temple, of Bayreuth.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche heard and took part in these discussions with an -uneasy ardour. Wagner's idea exalted him. But he had the soul of a -solitary, and could not help being worried, and sometimes shocked, -by these noises from the world which had to be tolerated. Wagner did -not suffer: on the contrary, he seemed elated by the joy of feeling -the crowd nearer to him; and Nietzsche, a little surprised, a little -disappointed, sought, without precisely finding again, his hero. -"To sway the people," he had written in his student notebooks, "is -to put passions in the service of an idea." Wagner adapted himself -to work of this kind. In the service of his art and of his fame he -accepted all the passions. A Chauvinist with the Chauvinists, an -idealist with the idealists, as much of a Gallophobe as was desired; -restoring the Æschylian tragedy for some, for others re-animating the -old German myths; willingly a pessimist, a Christian if it pleased, -sincere moreover from moment to moment, this prodigious being, a great -leader of men as well as a great poet, handled his compatriots most -dexterously.</p> - -<p>No one could resist the impulse which he gave: every one had to -yield and to follow. He fixed the very details of the plans of the -theatre whose site had just been chosen. He studied the practical -organisation of the work, and laboured to create those <i>Vereine</i> in -which propagandists and subscribers were to be grouped. He set himself -out to procure rare and unexpected delights for the faithful. One day -he surprised them with a performance for their benefit alone, in the -gardens of Triebschen, of the <i>Siegfried-Idyll,</i> a gracious interlude -written for the churching of his wife, a noble echo of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> most -intimate times. He gave Nietzsche his rôle, for he could not allow that -voice, so passionate and hard to control, and yet so eloquent, to be -lost. The young man offered to set out on a mission. He would stir up -those circles in Northern Germany, so slow and heavy in its emotions. -Bus proposal was not accepted; Wagner, no doubt, feared the violence of -his apostolate: "No," he said to him, "finish and publish your book." -Nietzsche felt somewhat melancholy at the refusal. Henceforth, it -seems, difficulties began to arise between the two.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the advice of the master was less easy to follow than it -seemed. <i>The Origin of Tragedy</i> did not find a publisher. Nietzsche's -applications failed, and his summer was spoilt by the check. He decided -to print certain chapters of it in the reviews. "I put my little book -into the world bit by bit," he wrote in July to Erwin Rohde; "what a -childbirth! what tortures!"</p> - -<p>At the beginning of October he was staying at Leipsic. Here he saw -again his master Ritschl, and his friends Rohde, Gersdorff, who had -come to meet him, and spent with them some happy days of conversation -and comradeship. But the fate of his book remained uncertain: all the -publishers of scientific and philological works bowed the author out. -They were not tempted by a bizarre work, in which learning was allied -with lyricism and the problems of ancient Greece with the problems -of modern Germany. "The book is a centaur," said Nietzsche. This -mythological assurance did not satisfy the book-sellers. Finally he -had to address himself, not without regret—for he maintained that his -work was a scientific work—to Richard Wagner's publisher, from whom -he received, after a month's delay, a favourable reply. He wrote to -his friend Gersdorff, in a free and relieved tone, which helps us to -measure the vexation from which he had suffered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">BASLE</span>, <i>November</i> 19, 1871. "Pardon me, dear friend, I ought to have -thanked you sooner. I had felt in your last letter, in every one of -your words, your strong intellectual life. It seemed to me that you -remained a soldier at soul and brought your military nature to art and -philosophy. And that is good, for we have no right to live to-day, -if we are not militants, militants who prepare a <i>sæculum</i> to come, -something of which we can guess at in ourselves, across our best -instants. For those instants, which are what there is of best in us, -draw us away in spirit from <i>our</i> time; nevertheless, in some manner, -they need to have their hearthstone somewhere: whence I infer that at -such instants we feel a confused breath of coming times pass over us. -For instance, take our last meeting at Leipsic; has it not left in your -memory the impression of such instants, as seemed to be strangers to -everything, linked with another century? Whatever may be, this remains, -'<i>Im Ganzen, Vollen, Schönen, resolut zu leben.</i>' But it needs a strong -will, such as is not given to the first comer!... To-day, only to-day, -the excellent publisher Fritzsch replies to me."</p> - -<p>Fritzsch proposed to him that he should give his book the format and -character of a recent work of Wagner's: <i>Die Bestimmung der Oper.</i> -Nietzsche rejoiced at the idea, and he wrote five concluding chapters -which accentuated the Wagnerian tendency of the work. This rapid -composition and the correction of the proofs did not deter him from -another enterprise.</p> - -<p><i>The Origin of Tragedy</i> was about to appear. He did not doubt for a -moment that it would be read, understood, acclaimed. His comrades, -his masters, had always acknowledged the strength of his thought. -Apparently, it never occurred to him that a vaster public remained -callous; but he wished to affect it profoundly, at the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> blow, -and he formed new projects by which he might make the most of his -success. He wanted to talk: speech was a livelier weapon. He recalled -the emotions which he had experienced when, as a young professor, he -was given the singular task of teaching the most delicate language, the -most difficult works, to chance audiences; he remembered his perhaps -fanciful design: that seminary of philologists, that house of study -and retreat, of which he was always dreaming. He wanted to denounce -the schools, the gymnasia, the Universities, the heavy apparatus of -pedantry which was stifling the German spirit, and define the new and -necessary institutions, destined, no longer for the emancipation of the -masses, but for the culture of the State. He had written to Erwin Rohde -as early as the month of March: "A new idea claims me, a new principle -of education which points to the entire rejection of oar Universities, -of our gymnasia...." In December, he announced at Basle, for January, -1872, a series of lectures upon <i>The Future of our Educational -Institutions.</i></p> - -<p>Towards mid-December, he accompanied Richard Wagner to Mannheim, where -a two days' festival was being devoted to the works of the master.</p> - -<p>"Oh, what a pity you were not there!" he wrote to Erwin Rohde. "All -the sensations, all the recollections of art, what are they compared -to these? I am like a man whose ideal has been realised. It is Music, -and Music alone!... When I say to myself that a certain number of men -of the generations to come—at least some hundreds among them—will be -moved by this music as I am myself, I cannot augur for less than an -entire renewal of our culture!"</p> - -<p>He returned to his house in Basle: but the impression of his days in -Mannheim remained with him. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> details of his everyday life caused -him a strange and tenacious disgust. "All that cannot be translated -into music," he wrote, "is repulsive and repugnant to me.... I have a -horror of reality. Or, rather, I no longer see anything of the real, it -is only a phantasmagoria." Under the stress of this emotion he acquired -a clearer view of the problem which occupied him, he formulated -more clearly the principle for which he was seeking. To "teach," to -"uplift" men, what does that mean? It is to dispose their minds in -such sort that the productions of genius will be assured, not of the -understanding of all, for that cannot be, but of the respect of all.</p> - -<p>As in the preceding years, Richard and Cosima Wagner invited him to -spend Christmas at Triebschen. He excused himself; the work of his -lectures occupied all his time. He offered Cosima Wagner, by way of -homage, a musical fantasy on Saint Sylvester's Night, composed some -weeks earlier. "I am very impatient to know what they will think of -it down there," he wrote to Rohde. "I have never been criticised by -any competent person." In reality, good judges had already often -discouraged his musical enterprises, but he soon forgot their vexatious -advice.</p> - -<p>On the last day of 1871, his book appeared: <i>Die Gebürt der Tragödie -aus dem Geiste der Musik (The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of -Music)</i>. The sub-title which the current editions give, <i>Hellenism -and Pessimism,</i> was added in 1885 on the issue of the second edition. -Friedrich Nietzsche sent the first copy to Richard Wagner, from whom he -received almost at once a frenzied letter.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRIEND,</span>—I have never read a finer book than yours. It is all -splendid! At this moment, I write to you very hurriedly because the -reading has profoundly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> moved me, and I expect that I wait for the -return of my sang-froid to re-read you methodically. I said to Cosima: -After you, he it is whom I love most; and then, at a long distance, -Lenbach, who has made so striking and so true a portrait of me.... -Adieu! Come soon to see us!</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 85%;">"Yours,</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 90%;">"R. W."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>On the 10th of January Wagner wrote again:</p> - - -<p>"You have just published a book which is incomparable. All the -influences which you may have undergone are reduced to nothing by the -character of your book: what distinguishes it from every other, is the -complete confidence with which a penetrating individuality displays -itself. It is here that you satisfy the ardent desire of myself and -of my wife: in short, a strange voice might have been talking of us, -and we would have fully approved it! Twice we have read your book from -the first line to the last—in the daytime, separately—at night, -together—and we were lamenting that we had not at our disposal that -second copy which you had promised. We deliver battle over that sole -copy. I am constantly in need of it; between my breakfast and my -working hours, it is it that sets me going; for since I have read -you, I have begun again to work on my last act. Our readings, whether -together or separately, are constantly interrupted by our exclamations. -I am not yet recovered from the emotion which I experienced. There is -the condition we are in!"</p> - -<p>And Cosima Wagner wrote, for her part: "Oh, how fine your book is! -How beautiful it is and how profound, how profound it is and how -audacious!" On January 16th he delivered his first lecture. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> joy, -his sense of security, were extreme. He knew that Jacob Burckhardt -read and approved him; he knew that he had the admiration of Rohde, -Gersdorff, Overbeck. "What they say of my book is incredible," he wrote -to a friend. "... I have concluded an alliance with Wagner. You cannot -imagine how we are bound to one another, and how identical are our -views." He conceived his second work without delay; he would publish -his lectures. It would be a popular book, an exoteric translation of -his <i>Tragedy.</i> But the idea of an even more decisive action at once -supervened. Germany was preparing to inaugurate the new University of -Strassburg; and an apotheosis of professors on a soil that had been -conquered by soldiers awoke the indignation of Friedrich Nietzsche. -He wished to address a pamphlet to Bismarck, "under the form of an -interpellation in the Reichstag." Have our pedants, he would ask, the -right to go in triumph to Strassburg? Our soldiers have conquered the -French soldiers, and that is glorious. But has our culture humiliated -French culture? Who would dare to say so?</p> - -<p>Some days went by. Whence came the less happy tone of his letters? Why -was it that he did not write his interpellation, that he gave up the -idea of it? We know: except for a few friends who had understood his -book, no one read it, no one bought it; not a review, not a newspaper -deigned to take notice of it. Ritchsl, the great philologist of -Leipsic, kept silent. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote to him: "I want to know -what you think." He received in reply a severe criticism and a reproof. -Erwin Rohde offered an article for the <i>Litterarische Centralblatt;</i> -it was not inserted. "It was the last chance of a serious voice being -upraised for me in a scientific sheet," he wrote to Gersdorff; "now I -expect nothing more—except spite or idiocy. But, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> I have told you, -I count upon the peaceful journey of my book through the centuries with -perfect confidence. For in it certain eternal verities are said for the -first time: they must resound...."</p> - -<p>Certainly Friedrich Nietzsche had not foreseen his ill-success: it -astonished and disconcerted him. A sore throat obliged him to interrupt -his lectures, and he found pleasure in the contretemps. He had let -himself be drawn towards ideas which were very lofty and delicate, -and difficult even to himself. He wished to show that two sorts of -schools should be instituted, the one professional, for the majority; -the other, classical and truly superior, for an infinitesimal number -of chosen individuals, whose course would be extended as far as -their thirtieth year. How was this isolated circle, aloof from the -common herd, to be formed, and how was it to be taught? Friedrich -Nietzsche recurred to his most intimate and familiar thought, to that -aristocratic ideal to which his meditations always led him. He had -often studied its problems. But to examine them in public he needed his -whole strength, and also a sympathetic audience. He felt that he had -been weakened by the failure of his book. His very slight indisposition -did not last long: nevertheless he did not return to his lectures. It -was vain to ask him to do so: he refused. It was vain to press him -to have them published; Richard Wagner strongly insisted: he eluded -this insistence. His notes have come to us in a sorry condition of -incompleteness and disorder. They are the echoes, the vestiges of a -dream.</p> - -<p>"The aristocracy of the mind must conquer its entire liberty in respect -of the State, which is now keeping Science in curb.</p> - -<p>"Later, men will have to raise the tables of a new culture ... then -destruction of the gymnasia, destruction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> of the University ... an -areopagus, for the justice of the mind.</p> - -<p>"<i>The culture of the future: its ideal of social problems.</i> The -imperative world of the beautiful and the sublime ... the only -safeguard against Socialism ..."</p> - -<p>Finally these three interrogatory words, which sum up his doubts, his -desires, and perhaps his whole work: "<i>Ist Veredlung möglich?"</i> (Is -ennoblement possible?)</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche courageously renounced his hope and was silent. -He had lost his country: Prussia would not be the invincible -framework of a lyrical race; the German Empire would not realise the -"imperative world of the beautiful and the sublime." On April 30th -the new University of Strassburg was inaugurated. "I hear from here -the patriotic rejoicings," he wrote to Erwin Rohde. In January he had -refused an offer of employment which would have withdrawn him from -Basle. In April he spoke of leaving Basle and of going to Italy for two -or three years. "The first review of my book has at last appeared," -he wrote, "and I find it very good. But where has it appeared? In -an Italian publication, <i>La Rivista Europea!</i> That is pleasant and -symbolical!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>He had a second reason for melancholy: Richard Wagner was leaving to -make his home at Bayreuth. A letter of Cosima Wagner announced the -departure: "Yes, Bayreuth!... Adieu to dear Triebschen, where the -<i>Origin of Tragedy</i> was conceived, and so many other things which -perhaps will never begin again!"</p> - -<p>Three years before, in this spring season, Nietzsche had hazarded his -first visit to Triebschen; he wished to return again. He did return, -and found the house desolate. A few pieces of furniture, covered over -with horse-cloths<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> and dispersed from room to room, seemed like flotsam -and jetsam from another time. Every small object, all the family -knick-knacks, had disappeared. The light entered, hard and crude, -through the curtainless windows. Wagner and his wife were completing -then-last packages, throwing the last of the books into the last of -the baskets. They welcomed the faithful Nietzsche, asked his aid; he -gave it at once. He wrapped up in packets the letters, the precious -manuscripts; then more books and scores. Suddenly his heart failed -him. So it was all over, Triebschen was done with! Three years of his -life, and what years they had been! How unexpected, how moving, how -delicious, and they were to escape in a day! Now he must renounce -the past, and follow the master without regret. Now he must forget -Triebschen and, for the future, think only of Bayreuth. No sooner was -this magical name pronounced than it fascinated Nietzsche and troubled -him. His hours at Triebschen had been so fine, hours of repose and -meditation, hours of work and silence. A man, a woman of genius; a nest -of children; an infinity of happy conversations, of beauty—Triebschen -had given all that. What would Bayreuth give? The crowd would come -there, and what would it bring with it? Friedrich Nietzsche left the -books which he was engaged in packing. The grand piano had remained -in the middle of the salon. He opened it, preluded, then improvised. -Richard and Cosima Wagner, leaving aside all their affairs, listened. A -harrowing, unforgettable rhapsody resounded through the empty salon. It -was the adieu.</p> - -<p>In November, 1888, Friedrich Nietzsche, already stricken with madness, -set himself to recount his history. "Since I am here recalling the -consolations of my life, I ought to express in a word my gratitude for -what was by far my most profound and best-loved joy—my intimacy with -Richard Wagner. I wish to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> just with regard to the rest of my human -relationships; but I absolutely cannot efface from my life the days at -Triebschen, days of confidence, of gaiety, of sublime flashes—days of -<i>profound</i> perceptions. I do not know what Wagner was for others: our -sky was never darkened by a cloud."</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_2" id="Footnote_1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_2"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Cosima Wagner.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h5> - - -<h4>FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE AND RICHARD WAGNER—BAYREUTH</h4> - - -<p>Bayreuth has had a strange destiny. This little German town, so -long obscure, scintillates in the eighteenth century, shines with -a somewhat flickering brilliance, but becomes celebrated at last -throughout all Europe. An intelligent Margravine—Frederick's sister, -the friend of Voltaire and of French elegance—lives there, beautifies -it, enlivens the barren country with castles, and lavishes on its -façades the singular volutes of the "rococo" style. The Margravine -dies and Bayreuth is again forgotten. A century passes and suddenly -its fame returns; the little town that the Margrave adorned becomes -the Jerusalem of a new art and a new religion. A strange destiny, but -a factitious one. It is a poet who has regulated the antitheses. The -history of Bayreuth ought to be included among Wagner's works.</p> - -<p>He wished to set up his theatre in a quiet and secluded town. It suited -him, not to go to his audience, but rather to force his audience to -come to him. He chose, from many others, this town; the two Germanys -would be thus confronted, the one, that of the past, a slave to French -customs, mean and shabby; the other, that of the future, his own, an -emancipating and innovating Germany. The work was started without -delay. The master decided that the foundation-stone of his theatre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -should be laid with pomp on the 22nd of May, 1872, the anniversary of -his birth.</p> - -<p>"So we shall see one another again," wrote Nietzsche to his friend -Rohde. "Our meetings are ever becoming more grandiose, more historical, -are they not?"</p> - -<p>They were present together at the ceremony, one of them coming from -Basle, the other from Hamburg. Two thousand people were assembled -in the little town. The weather was appalling. But the unceasing -rain, the threatening sky, made the ceremony still more imposing. -Wagnerian art is a serious thing and has no need of smiling heavens. -The faithful disciples, standing in the open air at the mercy of the -winds, saw the stone laid. In the hollow block Wagner deposited a piece -of poetry written by himself, and then threw the first spadeful of -plaster. In the evening he invited his friends to hear an execution -of the "Symphony" with chorus, the orchestration of which he had in -parts slightly strengthened. He personally conducted. Young Germany, -assembled in the Margrave's theatre, listened piously to this work in -which the nineteenth century declared its need, and when the final -chorus struck up—"Millions of men embrace each other"—it really -seemed, said a spectator, as if the sublime wish was about to be -realised.</p> - -<p>"Ah! my friend," wrote Nietzsche, "through what days we have lived! -No one can rob us of these grave and sacred memories. We ought to go -forth into life inspired to battle on their behalf. Above all, we ought -to force ourselves to regulate all our acts, with as much gravity and -force as is possible, so as to prove that we are worthy of the unique -events at which we have assisted."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche wanted to fight for Wagner, for he loved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> Wagner and he loved -battle. "To arms, to arms!" he writes to Rohde; "war is necessary to -me, <i>ich brauche den Krieg.</i>" But he had already proved many a time, -what he now began sadly to understand, that his nature did not lend -itself to reticence and to the prudence necessary in such a contest, in -which public opinion was the stake. There was no instant but a word, -an attitude ran foul of his radical idealism. He felt the instinctive -constraint that he had already known at Triebschen. Wagner disturbed -him. He hardly recognised the grave and pure hero whom he had loved -so much. He saw another man, a powerful workman, brutal, vindictive, -jealous. Nietzsche had thought of making a tour in Italy, with a -relation of Mendelssohn's; he was obliged to give up this idea in order -to humour the master, who detested the race, even to the very name of -Mendelssohn.</p> - -<p>"Why is Wagner so distrustful?" Nietzsche wrote in his diary; "it -excites distrust."</p> - -<p>Wagner was as dictatorial as he was distrustful. The days had become -rare when he could converse at leisure with nobleness and freedom as he -had done at Triebschen. He spoke briefly, he commanded.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche was still ready to go on a mission to Northern Germany to -speak, write, and found <i>Vereine,</i> and to "thrust under the noses -of the German savants the things which their timid eyes failed to -perceive." Wagner would not accept this proposal; he wished Nietzsche -to publish his lectures on <i>The Future of our Educational Systems.</i> -Nietzsche resisted a desire in which he thought he detected a certain -egotism.</p> - -<p>"Our Herr Nietzsche only wants to do what he likes," exclaimed the -irritable Wagner.</p> - -<p>His anger saddened and humiliated Nietzsche both on his own account -and on his master's. He thought, "Ill, weighed down with work, have -I no right to respect? Am I under any one's orders? Why is Wagner so -tyrannical?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> We read in his diary, "Wagner has not the strength to -make those around him free and great. Wagner is not loyal; he is, on -the contrary, suspicious and haughty."</p> - -<p>At the same time there appeared a pamphlet, <i>The Philology of the -Future, a reply to F. Nietzsche.</i> The author was Willamowitz, who had -been Nietzsche's comrade at the school of Pforta.</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRIEND,</span>" he wrote to Gersdorff, who informed him of the pamphlet, -"Don't worry over me. I am ready. I will never entangle myself in -polemics. It is a pity it should be Willamowitz. Do you know that -he came last autumn to pay me a friendly visit? Why should it be -Willamowitz?"</p> - -<p>Wagner, at whom the title itself of the pamphlet, <i>The Philology of -the Future,</i> was aimed—it parodied his famous formula, <i>The Music of -the Future</i>—wrote a reply, and profited by the occasion to renew his -invitation to Friedrich Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>"What must one think of our schools of culture?" he concludes. "It is -for you to tell us what German culture ought to be, so as to direct -the regenerated nation towards the most noble objects." Once again -Nietzsche was firm in his determination. He was by no means satisfied -with these lectures, being discontented with their form and uncertain -even of their thought. "I do not wish to publish anything as to which -my conscience is not as pure as that of the seraphim." He tried to -express his Wagnerian faith in another style.</p> - -<p>"I should have so much pleasure," he wrote to Rohde, "in writing -something for the service of our cause, but I don't know what. All that -I advance is so wounding, such an irritant, and more likely to hurt -than to serve.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> Why should my poor book, naïve and enthusiastic as it -was, have been received so badly? Singular! Now, what shall we do, we -others?"</p> - -<p>He began to write <i>Reden eines Hoffenden (Words of a Man of Hope),</i> -which he soon gave up.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche re-opened his Greek books, so invariably beautiful -and satisfying. He explained—before very few pupils, because the -evil fame of the <i>Gebürt</i> withdrew young philologists from him—the -<i>Choephores of Æschylus</i> and some passages of ante-Platonic philosophy.</p> - -<p>Across a gulf of twenty-five centuries that clear radiance descended -upon him, scattering all doubts and shadows. Nietzsche often heard with -misgiving the fine words which it pleased his Wagnerian friends to use. -"Millions of men embrace each other," the chorus sang at Bayreuth in -the work of Wagner. It sang well, but, after all, men did not embrace -each other; and here Nietzsche suspected a certain extravagance, a -certain falsehood. Look at the ancient Greeks, those ambitious and evil -men. They do not embrace each other much, their hymns never speak of -embraces. They desire to excel, and are devoured by envy; their hymns -glorify these passions. Nietzsche liked their naïve energy, their -precise speech. He refreshed himself at this source and wrote a short -essay: <i>Homer's Wettkampf (The Homeric Joust).</i> We find ourselves -driven at the very beginning far away from the Wagnerian mysticism.</p> - -<p>"When you speak of <i>Humanity,</i>" he writes, "you imagine an order of -sentiment by which man distinguishes himself from nature, but such a -separation does not exist; these qualities called 'natural' and those -called 'human' grow together and are blended. Man in his noblest -aspirations is still branded by sinister nature.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<p>"These formidable tendencies which seem inhuman are perhaps the -fruitful soil which supports all humanity, its agitations, its acts, -and its work.</p> - -<p>"Thus it is that the Greeks, the most human of all men, remain cruel, -happy in destruction."</p> - -<p>This rapid sketch was the occupation of a few days. Nietzsche undertook -a long work. He studied the texts of Thales, Pythagoras, Heraclitus, -Empedocles. He tried to approach those philosophers who were truly -worthy of the name which they themselves had invented, those masters of -life, scornful of argument and of books; citizens and at the same time -thinkers, and not <i>déracinés</i> like those who followed them—Socrates -and his school of mockers, Plato and his school of dreamers, -philosophers of whom each one dares to bring a philosophy of his own, -that is to say, an individual point of view in the consideration of -things, in the deliberation of acts. Nietzsche, in a few days, filled a -copybook with notes.</p> - -<p>All the same, he continued to be interested in the successes of his -glorious friend. In July <i>Tristan</i> was played at Munich. He went, and -met many other disciples; Gersdorff, Fräulein von Meysenbug, whom he -had met at the May festivals of Bayreuth. She had preserved, despite -her fifty years, that tender charm that never left her, and the -physical grace of a frail and nervous body. Friedrich Nietzsche passed -some pleasant days in the company of his comrade and his new friend. -All three regretted them when they were gone, and at the moment of -departure expressed a hope of meeting each other soon again. Gersdorff -wished to return in August to hear <i>Tristan,</i> and once more Nietzsche -promised to be there, but at the last moment Gersdorff was unable to be -present, and Nietzsche had not the courage to return alone to Munich. -"It is insupportable," he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "to find -yourself face to face with an art so serious and profound. In short, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> -remain at Basle." Parmenides, on whom he was meditating, consoled him -for the loss of <i>Tristan.</i></p> - -<p>Fräulein von Meysenbug kept Nietzsche advised of all news, whether -trivial or important, in connection with the Wagnerian campaign. The -master had just terminated <i>The Twilight of the Gods,</i> the last of -the four dramas of the Tetralogy. He had at last finished his great -work. Fräulein von Meysenbug was informed in a note written to her by -Cosima Wagner. "In my heart I hear sung 'Praise be to God,'" wrote the -wife. "Praise be to God," repeated Fräulein von Meysenbug, and she -adds—these few words indicate the tone of the place and of the time: -"The disciples of the new spirit need new mysteries by which they may -solemnise together their instinctive knowledge. Wagner creates them -in his tragic works, and the world will not have recovered its beauty -until we have built for the new Dionysian myth a Temple worthy of -it." Fräulein von Meysenbug confided to Nietzsche the measures she -was taking to win Marguerite of Savoy, the Queen of Italy, to the -cause, and to make her accept the Presidency of a small circle of -noble patronesses. A few women of the highest aristocracy, friends -of Liszt's, initiated by him into the Wagnerian cult, composed this -sublime <i>Verein.</i></p> - -<p>In all this there was an irritating atmosphere of snobbery and -excessive religiosity. Yet Fräulein von Meysenbug was an exquisite -woman with irreproachable intentions, pure with that purity which -purifies all that it touches: Nietzsche did not practise his criticism -on this friend's letters. He soon felt the fatigue of continuous work. -He lost his sleep and was obliged to rest. Travel had often lightened -his mind. He set out, at the end of summer, for Italy, and went as -far as Bergamo but no further. This country, which he was afterwards -to love so much, displeased him. "Here reigns the Apollonian cult," -Fräulein von Meysenbug, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> staying at Florence, told him; "it -is good to bathe in." Nietzsche was very little of an Apollonian. He -perceived only voluptuousness, excessive sweetness, harmony of line. -His German tastes were disconcerted and he returned to the mountains, -where he became, as he wrote, "more audacious and more noble." There, -in a poor village inn at Splügen, he had a few days of happiness.</p> - -<p>"Here, on the extreme border of Switzerland and Italy," he wrote in -August, 1872, to Gersdorff, "I am alone, and I am very well satisfied -with my choice. A rich and marvellous solitude, with the most -magnificent roads in the world, along which I go meditating for hours, -buried in my thoughts, and yet I never fall over a precipice. And -whenever I look around me there is something new and great to see. No -sign of life except when the diligence arrives and stops for relays. -I take my meals with the men, our one contact. They pass like the -Platonic shadows before my cave."</p> - -<p>Until now Nietzsche had not cared much for high mountains; he preferred -the moderate valleys and woods of the Jura, which reminded him of -his native country, the hills of the Saale and Bohemia. At Splügen a -new joy was revealed to him; the joy of solitude and of meditation -in the mountain air. It was like a flash of lightning. He went down -to the plains and forgot; but six years later, with the knowledge of -his eternal loneliness on him, he found, sheltered in mean inns like -this one, once again the same lyrical élan that he had discovered in -October, 1872.</p> - -<p>He soon left his sanctuary and returned without vexation to Basle, -whither his professional duties drew him. There he had made friendships -and established a way of life. He liked the town, and tolerated the -inhabitants. Basle had truly become his centre. "Overbeck and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Romundt, -my companions of table and of thought," he writes to Rohde, "are the -best society in the world. With them I cease my lamentations and my -gnashing of teeth. Overbeck is the most serious, the most broad-minded -of philosophers, and the most simple and amiable of men. He has that -radical temper, failing which I can agree with no one."</p> - -<p>His first impression on his return was trying. All his pupils left -him. He was not at a loss to understand the reason of this exodus; -the German philologists had declared him to be "a man scientifically -dead." They had condemned him personally, and put an interdict upon his -lectures. "The Holy Vehmgericht has done its duty well," he wrote to -Rohde. "Let us act as if nothing had happened. But I do not like the -little University to suffer on my account, it hurts me. We lose twenty -entries in the last half-year. I can hardly as much as give a course on -Greek and Latin rhetoric. I have two pupils, one is a Germanist, the -other a Jurist."</p> - -<p>At last he received some comfort. Rohde had written in defence of -his book an article which no review would accept. Weary of refusal, -he touched up his work and published it under the form of a letter -addressed to Richard Wagner. Nietzsche thanked him. "Nobody dared to -print my name," he wrote to Rohde.</p> - -<p>"... It was as if I had committed a crime, and now your book comes, -so ardent, so daring a witness to our fraternal combat! My friends -are delighted with it. They are never tired of praising you, for the -details and the whole; they think your polemics worthy of a Lessing. -... What pleases me most is the deep and threatening clamour of it, -like the sound of a waterfall. We must be brave, dear, dear friend. I -always have faith in progress, in our progress. I believe that we will -always go on increasing in loyal ambitions, and in strength. I believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> -in the success of our advance towards ends more noble yet, and more -aspiring. Yes, we will reach them, and then as conquerors, who discover -goals yet further off, we shall push on, always brave! What does it -matter to us that they will be few, so few, those spectators whose eyes -can follow the path we are pursuing? What does it matter if we have for -spectators only those who have the necessary qualities for judging this -combat? All the crowns which my time might give me I sacrifice to that -unique spectator, Wagner. The ambition to satisfy him animates me more, -and more nobly, than any other influence. Because he is difficult and -he says everything, what pleases him and what displeases him; he is my -good conscience, to praise and to punish."</p> - -<p>At the commencement of December, Nietzsche was lucky enough to find -his master again for a few hours, and to live with him in the intimate -way that reminded him of the days at Triebschen. Wagner, passing -through Strassburg, called to him; and he went at once. The meeting -was untroubled by any discord, a harmony now, no doubt, rare enough; -for Cosima Wagner, after having remarked this in one of her letters, -expressed the hope that such perfect hours would suffice to dissipate -all misunderstandings and to prevent their recrudescence.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Nietzsche worked a great deal during these last months of 1872. His -studies on the tragic philosophies of the Greeks were well advanced; -he left them over. Those wise men had restored his serenity, and he -profited by the help which they had given him to contemplate once more -the problems of his century. The problems—this is hardly a correct -expression, for he knew of only one. He questioned himself how a -culture should be founded, that is to say, a harmony of traditions, of -rules, of beliefs, by submission to which a man may become nobler.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> -Actual modern societies have for their end the production of certain -comforts; how should different societies be substituted which would -not only satisfy men, but benefit them? Let us know our wretchedness; -we are stripped of culture. Our thoughts and our acts are not ruled by -the authority of any style; the idea even of such an authority is lost -to us. We have perfected in an extraordinary manner the discipline of -knowledge, and we seem to have forgotten that others exist. We succeed -in describing the phenomena of life, in translating the Universe into -an abstract language, and we scarcely perceive that, in writing and -translating thus, we lose the reality of the Universe of Life. Science -exercises on us a "barbarising action," wrote Nietzsche. He analysed -this action.</p> - -<p>"The essential point of all science has become merely accessory, or -else it is entirely absent.</p> - -<p>"The study of languages—without the discipline of style and rhetoric.</p> - -<p>"Indian studies—without philosophy.</p> - -<p>"Classical antiquity—without a suspicion of how closely everything in -it is bound up with practical efforts.</p> - -<p>"The sciences of nature—without that beneficent and serene atmosphere -which Goethe found in them.</p> - -<p>"History—without enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"In short, all the sciences without their practical uses, that is to -say, studied otherwise than as really cultivated men would study them. -Science as a means of livelihood."</p> - -<p>It is necessary, therefore, that the sense of beauty, of virtue, and of -strong and regulated passions should be restored. How can a philosopher -employ himself in this task? Alas! the experience of antiquity teaches -and discourages us. The philosopher is a hybrid being, half logician, -half artist, a poet, an apostle, who constructs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> his dreams and his -commandments in a logical manner. Men listen willingly enough to poets -and apostles, they do not listen to philosophers, they are not moved by -their analyses and their deductions. Consider that long line of genius, -the philosophers of tragic Greece. What did they realise? Their lives -were given in vain to their race. Empedocles alone moved the mob, but -he was as much a magician as philosopher; he invented myths and poems; -he was eloquent, he was magnificent; it was the legend, and not the -thought of Empedocles, that was effective. Pythagoras founded a sect, -a philosopher cannot hope for more: his labour grouped together a few -friends, a few disciples, who passed over the human masses like a -ripple on the ocean; not one of the great philosophers has swayed the -people, writes Nietzsche. Where they have failed, who will succeed? It -is impossible to found a popular culture on philosophy.</p> - -<p>What is then the destiny of these singular souls? Is their force, which -is at times immense, lost? Will the philosopher always be a paradoxical -being, and useless to men? Friedrich Nietzsche was troubled; it was -the utility of his own life that he questioned. He would never be a -musician, that he knew at last; never a poet, he had ceased to hope -for it. He had not the faculty of conceiving the uniformities, of -animating a drama, of creating a soul. One evening he confessed this to -Overbeck with such sadness that his friend was moved. He was therefore -a philosopher, moreover, a very ignorant one, an amateur of philosophy, -an imperfect lyrical artist; and he questioned himself: Since I have -for weapons only my thoughts, the thoughts of a philosopher, what can -I do? He answered: I can help. Socrates did not create the truths that -error kept prisoners in the souls of his interlocutors, he only aspired -to the title of accoucheur. Such is the task of a philosopher. He is -an inefficient creator, but a very efficient critic. He is obliged -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> analyse the forces which are operative around him, in science, in -religion, and in art; he is obliged to give the directions, to fix the -values and the limits. Such shall be my task. I will study the souls -of my contemporaries, and I shall have every authority to say to them: -Neither science nor religion can save you; seek refuge in art, the -power of modern times, and in the artist who is Richard Wagner. "The -philosopher of the future," he wrote, "he must be the supreme judge of -an æsthetic culture, a censor of every digression."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche went to Naumburg for the Christmas holidays. Wagner sent -him word to ask him to stop at Bayreuth on his way home to Basle, but -he was hard pressed by work and perhaps a little ill, and no doubt -a secret instinct warned him that solitude would be best for the -meditation of the problems which he had to determine for himself. -He made his apologies. Besides, he had had for some weeks many -opportunities of proving his attachment. He had written an article (the -only one in all his work) in answer to an alienist who had undertaken -to prove that Wagner was mad. He had offered a sum of money to help in -the propaganda. This anonymous and distant manner was the only one that -suited him at the time. Even at Basle he tried to found a Wagnerian -Verein. He was therefore astounded when he discovered that the master -was displeased at his absence. Already in the past year an invitation, -also declined, had helped to provoke a mild lecture.</p> - -<p>"It is Burckhardt who is keeping you at Basle," wrote Cosima Wagner. -Nietzsche wrote and remedied things, but the painful impression -remained.</p> - -<p>"Everything is quieted," he told the friend who had informed him; "but -I cannot quite forget. Wagner knows that I am ill, absorbed in work, -and in need of a little liberty. I shall be, henceforth, whether I -wish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> it or no, more anxious than in the past. God knows how many times -I have wounded him. Each time I am astonished, and I never succeed in -precisely locating the point in which we have clashed."</p> - -<p>This annoyance did not affect his thought; we can follow it to its -smallest shades of meaning, thanks to the notes published in the tenth -volume of his complete works. It is quite active and fecund. "I am the -adventurer of the spirit," he was to write. "I wander in my thought. I -go to the idea that calls me...."</p> - -<p>He was never to wander so audaciously as in the first weeks of 1876.</p> - -<p>He completed a finer and sober essay, <i>Ueber Wahrheit und Lüge im -ausser moralischen Sinne (On Truth and Falsehood in an Extra-Moral -Sense.)</i> (It is a pity that it is necessary to translate these -high-sounding expressions, and we render them word for word.) Nietzsche -always liked high-sounding words; he does not recoil here from using -the word "untruth," and essays for the first time a "reversal of -values." To the true he opposes the false and prefers it. He exalts the -imaginary worlds which poets add to the real world. "Dare to deceive -thyself and dream," Schiller had said; Friedrich Nietzsche repeats -this advice. It was the happy audacity of the Greeks; they intoxicated -themselves with their divine histories, their heroic myths, and this -intoxication set their souls on high adventures. The loyal Athenian, -persuaded that Pallas dwelt in his city, lived in a dream. More -clear-sighted, would he have been stronger; more passionate, braver? -Truth is good in proportion to the services which it assures, and -illusion is preferable if it performs its duty better. Why deify the -truth? It is the tendency of the moderns; <i>Pereat vita, fiat veritas!</i> -they say readily. Why this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> fanaticism? It is an inversion of the sane -law for men: <i>Pereat Veritas, fiat vita!</i></p> - -<p>Nietzsche wrote down these dogmatic formulas, but did not stop at them. -He went on writing. It was thus that he worked and advanced in his -researches. Let us not forget that these thoughts, firm though they -were in manner, were only indications, steps on the road. He would -give birth to other and perhaps contrary thoughts. Friedrich Nietzsche -had in him two instincts, opposed to each other; the one, that of the -philosopher, and the other, that of the artist; the one was bent on -truth, the other was ready to fabricate. He hesitated at the moment -when he had to sacrifice one or the other. The instinct for the true -protested within him. He did not abandon his formulas; he took them up -again, he essayed new definitions, he indicated the difficulties, the -hiatus. His thoughts had no disguise, and we can follow his researches. -Let us translate this significant disorder:</p> - -<p>"<i>The philosopher of the tragic knowledge.</i> He binds the disordered -instinct of knowledge, but not by a new metaphysic. He does not -establish new beliefs. He sees with a tragic emotion that the ground -of metaphysics opens under him, and he knows that the many-coloured -whirlwind of science can never satisfy him. He builds for himself a new -life; to art he restores its rights.</p> - -<p>"<i>The philosopher of the desperate knowledge</i> abandons himself to blind -science: knowledge at any price.</p> - -<p>"Even if metaphysics be only an anthropomorphic appearance, for the -tragic philosopher that achieves the <i>image of being.</i> He is not -sceptical. Here there is an idea to create; for scepticism is not the -end. The instinct of knowledge forced to its extreme limits turns -against itself to transform itself into a criticism of the faculty of -knowledge. Knowledge in the service of the best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> kind of life. One -should even <i>will illusion,</i> therein lies the tragic."</p> - -<p>What is then this philosopher of the desperate knowledge whose attitude -Nietzsche defines in two lines. Must he not love him, having found for -him already such a beautiful name? <i>There is an idea to create,</i> writes -Nietzsche; what then is this idea? It seems that in many passages -Nietzsche is pleased to contemplate, without its veils, that terrible -reality, whose aspect alone, says the Hindu legend, means death.</p> - -<p>"How," he writes, "do they dare talk of a destiny for the earth? In -infinite time and space there are no ends: <i>what is there, is eternally -there,</i> whatever the forms. What can result from it for a metaphysical -world one does not see.</p> - -<p>"Without support of this order humanity should stand firm; a terrible -task for the artist!</p> - -<p>"The terrible consequences of Darwinism, in which, moreover, I believe. -We respect certain qualities which we hold as eternal, moral, artistic, -religious, &c., &c., &c. The spirit, a production of the brain, to -consider it as supernatural! To deify it, what folly!</p> - -<p>"To speak of an unconscious end of humanity, to me, that is false. -Humanity is not a whole like an ant-hill. Perhaps one may speak of the -unconscious ends of an ant-hill—but of all the ant-hills of the world!</p> - -<p>"Our duty is not to take shelter in metaphysics, but actively to -sacrifice ourselves to the <i>birth of culture.</i> Hence my severity -against misty idealism."</p> - -<p>At that instant Nietzsche had almost reached the term of his thought, -but with great labour and consequent suffering. Headaches, pains in -the eyes and stomach, laid hold of him once more. The softest light -hurt him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> he was obliged to give up reading. Nevertheless, his thought -never halted. He was again occupied with the philosophers of tragic -Greece; he listened to the words which come down to us diminished by -the centuries, but always firm. He heard the concert of the everlasting -responses—</p> - -<p><i>Thales.</i> Everything derives from a unique element. <i>Anaximander.</i> The -flux of things is their punishment. <i>Heraclitus.</i> A law governs the -flux and the institution of things.</p> - -<p><i>Parmenides.</i> The flux and the institution of things is illusion. The -One alone exists.</p> - -<p><i>Anaxagoras.</i> All qualities are eternal; there is no becoming.</p> - -<p><i>The Pythagoreans.</i> All qualities are quantities. <i>Empedocles.</i> -All causes are magical. <i>Democritus.</i> All causes are mechanical. -<i>Socrates.</i> Nothing is constant except thought.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche is moved by these opposing voices, by these rhythms -of thought which accuse nature in their eternal collisions. "The -vicissitudes of the ideas and systems of man affect me more tragically -than the vicissitudes of real life," said Hölderlin. Nietzsche's -feeling was the same. He admired and envied those primitives who -discovered nature and who found the first answers. He threw aside the -devices of art, he confronted life as Œdipus confronted the Sphinx, -and under this very title <i>Œdipus</i> he wrote a fragment to the -mysterious language of which we may open our ears.</p> - -<p><i>Œdipus.</i> I call myself the last philosopher because I am the last -man. I speak alone and I hear my voice sounding like that of a dying -man. With thee, dear voice, whose breath brings to me the last memories -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> all human happiness, with thee let me speak yet a moment more: -thou wilt deceive my solitude; thou wilt give me back the illusion -of society and love, because my heart will not believe that love is -dead. It cannot endure the terror of the most solitary solitude, and -forces me to speak as if I were two. Is it thou that I hear, my voice? -Thou murmurest, and thou cursest? Yet—thy malediction should rend -the entrails of the world! Alas, in spite of everything it subsists, -more dazzling and colder than ever; it looks at me with its stars -pitilessly; it exists blind and deaf as before, and nothing dies but -man. And yet, you still speak to me, beloved voice! I die not alone in -this universe. I, the last man: the last plaint, your plaint, dies with -me. Misery, misery! pity me, the last man of misery, Œdipus!</p> - -<p>It seems that Nietzsche, now at the extreme limits of his thought, -experiences a sudden need of rest. He wants to speak to his friends, to -feel himself surrounded by them and diverted. The Easter holidays in -1873 gave him a fortnight's release. He left for Bayreuth, where he was -not expected.</p> - -<p>"I leave this evening," he writes to Fräulein von Meysenbug. "Guess -where I am going? You've guessed, and, height of bliss, I shall meet -the best of men, Rohde, to-morrow at half-past four. I shall be staying -with Wagner, and then see me quite happy! We shall speak much of you, -much of Gersdorff. He has copied my lectures, you say? It touches -me, and I will not forget it. What good friends I have! It is really -shameful.</p> - -<p>"I hope to bring back from Bayreuth courage and gaiety, and to -strengthen myself in everything that is good. I dreamt last night -that I was having my <i>Gradus ad Parnassum</i> carefully rebound. This -mixture of bookbinding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> and symbolism is comprehensible; moreover, -very insipid. But it is a truth! It is necessary from time to time to -rebind ourselves by frequenting men more valorous and stronger than -ourselves or else we lose a few of our pages, then a few more, still a -few more, until the last page is destroyed. And that our life should be -a <i>Gradus ad Parnassum,</i> that also is a truth that we must often repeat -to ourselves. The future to which I shall attain if I take plenty of -trouble, if I have a little happiness and much time, is to become a -more sober writer, and from the first and ever better to pursue my -calling as a man of letters more soberly. From time to time I feel a -childish repugnance to printed paper, I think that I see soiled paper. -And I can very well picture a period when reading was not much liked, -writing even less so; but one far preferred to think a lot, and to act -still more. For everything to-day awaits that efficacious man, who, -condemning in himself and us our millenarian routines, will live better -and will give us his life to imitate."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche left for Bayreuth.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>He there learnt a piece of unexpected news. Money was lacking. Of the -twelve hundred thousand francs needed, eight hundred thousand only had -been realised with great difficulty. The enterprise was compromised -and perhaps ruined. Everyone was losing heart. The master alone was -confident and calm. Since he had attained his manhood, he had desired -to possess a theatre. He knew that a constant will prevails over -chance, and a few months of crisis did not alarm him after forty years -of waiting. Capitalists from Berlin, Munich, Vienna, London, and -Chicago were making proposals to him which Richard Wagner invariably -refused to entertain. He wished his theatre to belong to himself alone, -and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> be near him: "It is not a question of the success of the -affair," he said, "but of awakening the hidden forces of the German -soul." But his remarkable serenity failed to reassure his friends. A -panic was engendered at Bayreuth, and no one again dared to hope.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche looked on, listened, observed, and then fled to -Naumburg. "My despair was deep," he has written; "there was nothing -that did not seem criminal to me." He was rediscovering the world after -ten months of solitude, and finding it even more cowardly and more -miserable than he had ever judged it to be. There was worse to endure, -for he was discontented with himself. He recalled his last meditations. -"I call myself the last philosopher, because I am the last man." And -he questioned himself: Was he really "the last philosopher "? "the -last man "? Had he not flattered himself in assigning himself a rôle -so difficult and magnificent? Had he not been ungrateful, cowardly, -and vile, like the others, in abandoning the struggle at the decisive -moment to shut himself up in his solitude and his selfish dreams? Had -he not forgotten his master? He accused himself; remorse accentuated -his despair. "I should not think of myself," was his reproach—" Wagner -alone is a hero—Wagner, so great in misfortune, great as of old at -Triebschen. It is he whom we must serve. I must henceforth be vowed to -help him."</p> - -<p>It had been his intention to publish a few chapters of his book on <i>The -Philosophers of Tragic Greece.</i> He abstained from this delight; put -away in a drawer—not without a pang—his almost finished manuscript. -He wished to "spit out lava," to insult Germany and treat her like a -brute, since, imbecile brute that she was, she would only yield to -brutality.</p> - -<p>"I return from Bayreuth in such a state of persistent melancholy," he -wrote to Rohde, "that the only hope for me is holy wrath."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche looked for no joy in the work which he was about to -undertake. To attack is to recognise, to condescend, to lower oneself. -He would have preferred to have had no traffic with base humanity. But -here was Richard Wagner; was it to be borne that he should be tormented -and trammelled? that the Germans should sadden him as they saddened -Goethe, and break him, as they broke Schiller? To-morrow other men -of genius would be born: was it not necessary to fight from to-day -to assure them their liberty and the freedom of their lives? It is -impossible to ignore the masses that beset us. It is a bitter destiny, -but one that may not be eluded. It is the destiny of the best-born, and -above all of the best Germans, heroes begotten and misunderstood by a -race insensible to beauty.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche remembered what Goethe had said of Lessing: "Pity -this extraordinary man, pity him that he lived in such a pitiable -era, that he was forced to act ceaselessly by polemics." He applied -this to himself, but polemics seemed to be a duty to him, as in other -times they had been to Lessing. He looked round for an adversary. The -illustrious D. F. Strauss now represented official philosophy; he was -its heavy pontiff. Having renounced the critical researches, in which -he was a real master, he was affecting, in his old age, the attitude of -a thinker, and was elaborating his <i>Credo</i> with sham elegances borrowed -from Voltaire and About.</p> - -<p>"I simply propose," he wrote in <i>The Old Faith and the New</i>, "to say -how we live—how for long years past we have been wont to direct our -lives. By the side of our professions—for we belong to the most -diverse professions; we are not all artists or scholars, but also -officials, soldiers, artisans, or proprietors, and, I have already said -and I repeat it, our number is not small, we are many thousand, and -not of the worst, in every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> country—by the side of our professions, I -say, we try, as far as possible, to keep our minds open to the highest -interests of humanity; our hearts are exalted by these new destinies, -as unforeseen as they are magnificent, assigned by Fate to our country -which formerly endured so much. The better to understand these things, -we study history, to which easy access is opened to the first comer -by a number of both popular and attractive works. And then we try to -extend our knowledge of nature by the aid of manuals which are within -reach of everybody. Finally we find in reading our great poets, in -hearing our great musicians, stimulants for spirit and feeling, for the -imagination and the heart, stimulants which in truth leave nothing to -be desired. Thus we live, thus we march forward in happiness."</p> - -<p>So the Philistines are happy and very rightly, thought Nietzsche: this -is the era of their power. Assuredly the species is not new. Even -Attica had its abettors of "banausia." But the Philistine formerly -lived under humiliating conditions. He was merely tolerated. He was -not talked of, nor did he talk. Then a more indulgent period arrived, -in which he was listened to, his follies flattered; he appeared droll. -This was enough: he became a fop, proud of his <i>prudhommerie.</i> To-day -he triumphs; it is impossible to hold him back. He becomes a fanatic, -and founds a religion: it is the new faith, of which Strauss is the -prophet. Friedrich Nietzsche would have assuredly approved of that -classification of the ages which Gustave Flaubert suggested about this -time: "<i>Paganisme, christianisme, muflisme</i>" (Paganism, Christianity, -Snout-ism). The Philistine dictates his tastes, and imposes his -mannerisms. A war breaks out: he reads his paper, the telegrams -interest him, and contribute to his happiness. Great men have suffered, -and have left us their works: the Philistine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> knows these works, and -appreciates them—they add to his well-being. Moreover, he appreciates -with discernment. The Pastoral Symphony ravishes him, but he condemns -the exaggerated uproar of the Symphony with chorus. David Friedrich -Strauss says it distinctly: and that clear mind of his is not to be -deceived.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche sought no further; he had found the man whom he -wished to destroy. In the first days of May he had all his notes in -hand, his work was ready. His strength suddenly gave out: his aching -head, his eyes that could not bear the light without pain, played -traitor to his desire to work; in a few days he was all but an invalid, -almost blind. Overbeck and Romundt did their best to help him. But -they had, both of them, other work; their time was measured by their -professional duties. A third friend came to give assistance to the -invalid. The Baron von Gersdorff, a man of leisure and a devoted -friend, was travelling in Italy. He had been Friedrich Nietzsche's -comrade at the college of Pforta, and since those already distant days -had scarcely seen him again, but his friendship had remained intact. -He hastened to Basle. He was a younger son of good family. His elder -brothers having died, one in 1866 in the Austrian campaign, the other -in 1871 in the French campaign, he had been obliged to sacrifice his -tastes, to renounce philosophy and learn farming so as to be able to -manage the family estate in North Germany. He was the only one of -Nietzsche's friends who was not a slave to paper and books. "He is a -fine type of the reserved and dignified gentleman, although extremely -simple in his manners," wrote Overbeck; "at bottom the best fellow -imaginable, and at the first glance you are left with the impression -of a man who is entirely trustworthy." A friend of Romundt's, Paul -Rée, also came to help or distract the invalid, who, thanks to so -many kindnesses, was able to resist his sufferings. Lying always in -semi-darkness, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> dictated: the faithful Gersdorff wrote down what -he had to say, and by the end of June the manuscript was sent to the -publisher.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche's condition improved when he had finished his work. -He felt a great need of fresh air and of solitude. His sister, who -had come from Naumburg, took him to the mountains of the Grisons. His -headaches grew less severe, his eyesight became stronger. He rested -for a few weeks, correcting his proofs, rejoicing in his new-found -strength, but always haunted by his angers and his aspirations.</p> - -<p>One day, while walking with his sister on the outskirts of Flimms, he -came on a little <i>château</i> in a sequestered site. "What a beautiful -retreat," he said; "what a beautiful spot in which to establish our lay -convent." The <i>château</i> was for sale. "Let us visit it," said the young -girl. They went in, and were delighted with everything: the garden, -the terrace from which a wide view stretched out before them, the big -hall with its chimney-piece of sculptured stone. The rooms were few, -but why should there be more? This would be given to Richard Wagner, -that to Cosima Wagner, this other would be at the disposal of friends -of passage, Fräulein von Meysenbug or Jacob Burckhardt. Gersdorff, -Deussen, Rohde, Overbeck, Romundt, would often reside there. "Here," -declared Nietzsche, "we will build a covered walk, a sort of cloister. -Thus, in every kind of weather, we can walk as we talk. For we shall -talk much, we shall read but little, and write hardly at all."</p> - -<p>He returned to his familiar dream once again, fraternal intercourse -between disciples and masters. Fräulein Nietzsche grew very excited. -"You will need a woman to keep house," she said. "It will be I." She -enquired about the price and wrote to the proprietor, but matters were -not arranged.</p> - -<p>"I looked too young," wrote Fräulein Nietzsche,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> who tells the -anecdote, "and the gardener did not take us seriously." What are we to -think of this affair? It is hard to know. Was it only the chatter of a -young girl to which Friedrich Nietzsche had hearkened for an instant? -Or was it, on the contrary, a serious notion? Probably the latter. His -spirit, hospitable to chimeras, ill knew what the world admits and what -it does not admit. He came back to Basle. His pamphlet had provoked a -good deal of discussion. "I read it, and re-read it," wrote Wagner, -"and I swear to the great gods that I hold you to be the only one who -knows what I want." "Your pamphlet is a thunderbolt," wrote Hans von -Bülow. "A modern Voltaire ought to write: <i>écr.... l'inf....</i> This -international æsthetic is for us a far more odious adversary than red -or black bandits."</p> - -<p>Other good judges, elderly men in many cases, approved of the young -polemist; Ewald (of Gottingen), Bruno Bauer, Karl Hildebrandt, "<i>dieses -letzten humanen Deutschen,"</i> said Nietzsche—"this last of the human -Germans"—declared for him. "This little book," wrote the critic, -"may mark a return of the German spirit towards serious thought and -intellectual passion."</p> - -<p>But these friendly voices were few.</p> - -<p>"The German Empire," he had written, "is extirpating the German -spirit." He had wounded the pride of a conquering people. In return, -he suffered many an insult, many an accusation of scurviness and -treachery. He rejoiced over it. "I enter society with a duel," he -said; "Stendhal gave that advice." Complete Stendhalian that he -was (or at least he flattered himself that he was), Nietzsche was, -notwithstanding, accessible to pity. David Strauss died but a few weeks -after the publication of the pamphlet, and Nietzsche, imagining that -his work had killed the old man, was sorely grieved. His sister and his -friends tried in vain to reassure him; he did not wish to abandon a -remorse which was, moreover, so glorious.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stimulated by this first conflict, he dreamt of vaster conflicts. With -extraordinary rapidity of conception he prepared a series of treatises -which he wished to publish under a general title: <i>Unzeitgemässe -Betrachtungen</i> ("Thoughts Out of Season"). D. F. Strauss had furnished -the subject of the first of the series. The second was to be entitled -<i>The Use and Abuse of History.</i> Twenty others were to follow. His -friends, ever the associates of his dreams, would contribute, he -thought, to the work.</p> - -<p>Franz Overbeck had just published a little book entitled <i>The -Christianity of our Modern Theology.</i> He attacked the German savants -and their too modernist tendencies, which attenuated Christianity, -and allowed the irrevocable and serious doctrine, which was that of -the early Christians, to fall into oblivion. Nietzsche had Overbeck's -<i>Christlichkeit</i> and his <i>D. F. Strauss</i> bound together. On the outside -page he wrote six lines of verse.</p> - -<p>"Two twins of the same house enter joyfully into the world—to devour -the dragons of the world. Two fathers, one work. Oh, miracle! The -mother of these twins is called Friendship."<a name="FNanchor_1_3" id="FNanchor_1_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_3" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche hoped for a series of similar volumes, the work of -many hands but inspired by one spirit.</p> - -<p>"With a hundred men bred up to the conflict of modern ideas, inured -to heroism," he then wrote, "all our noisy and lazy culture would be -reduced to eternal silence. A hundred men of that stamp carried the -civilisation of the Renaissance on their shoulders." A double<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> hope and -a vain one: his friends failed him, and he himself did not write his -twenty pamphlets. Only their titles, and a few pages of rough outline, -are left to us. On <i>The State, The City, The Social Crisis, Military -Culture,</i> on <i>Religion,</i> what had he to tell us? Let us moderate our -regrets; little perhaps; little, at all events, that could be called -precious, as distinct from his desires and his complaints.</p> - -<p>He was also busy with another work, and announced it to Gersdorff in -mysterious terms: "Let it be enough for you to know that a danger, a -terrible and unexpected one, menaces Bayreuth, and that the task of -digging the countermine has fallen to me." In fact, Richard Wagner had -begged him to write a supreme appeal to the Germans, and he applied -himself to the task of drawing it up with all the gravity, all the -profundity, all the solemnity of which he was capable. He demanded -Erwin Rohde's assistance and advice. "Can I count on it that you will -send me soon," he wrote, "a fragment drawn up in the Napoleonic style?" -Erwin Rohde, a prudent man, declined. "One would have to be polite," he -said, "when the only true thing for the rabble is insult." Friedrich -Nietzsche did not embarrass himself with politeness.</p> - -<p>At the end of October the presidents of the Wagner Vereine, assembled -united at Bayreuth, invited Friedrich Nietzsche to read his manifesto, -<i>A Summons<a name="FNanchor_2_4" id="FNanchor_2_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_4" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> to the Germans.</i></p> - -<p>"We wish to be listened to, for we speak in order to give a warning; -and he who warns, whoever he be, whatever he says, always has the right -to be heard.... We lift our voices because you are in danger, and -because, seeing you so mute, so indifferent, so callous, we fear for -you.... We speak to you in all sincerity of heart, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> we seek and -desire our good only because it is also yours: the salvation and the -honour of the German spirit, and of the German name...."</p> - -<p>The manifesto was developed in the same menacing and rather emphatic -tone, and the reading was received in an embarrassing silence. There -was no murmur of approval, no look of encouragement for the writer. -He was silent. At last some voices made themselves heard. "It is too -serious; it is not politic enough, there must be changes, a great many -changes." Some opined, "It is a monk's sermon." He did not wish to -argue, and withdrew his draft of a summons. Wagner alone had supported -him with a great deal of energy. "Wait," said he; "in a little time, -a very little time, they will be obliged to return to your challenge, -they will all conform to it."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche remained very few days at Bayreuth. The situation, which had -been serious at Easter, was now desperate. The public, who for some -months had gibed at the great enterprise, now forgot all about it. A -formidable indifference stood in the way of the propagandists, and -every day it seemed more difficult to collect the necessary money. All -idea of a commercial loan, of a lottery, had been set aside. An appeal -written in haste to replace that of Nietzsche was spread all over -Germany; ten thousand copies were printed, an infinitesimal number were -sold. A letter was addressed to the directors of one hundred German -theatres. Each was asked to give as a subscription to Bayreuth its -receipts at a single benefit performance. Three refused, the others did -not reply.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche returned to Basle. He succeeded, with the aid of -Gersdorff, in drawing up his second "Thoughts Out of Season," <i>The -Use and Abuse of History.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> But he wrote few letters, few notes, he -formed no new project, and for the moment almost entirely escapes from -our study. The double hope of his youth, that he might assist at the -triumph of Wagner, and have a share in achieving this triumph, was -ruined. His help had been refused. He had been told: "Your text is too -grave, too solemn." And he asks himself, What does this mean? Is not -the art of Wagner a matter of supreme gravity and solemnity? He is -unhappy, humiliated, wounded in his <i>amour propre</i> and in his dreams. -During these last weeks of 1873 he lived like an earthworm in his room -at Basle.</p> - -<p>He went to spend the New Year holidays at Naumburg. There, alone with -his own people, he picked up some strength. He had always liked the -repose of anniversaries, which was so favourable to reflection, and, as -a young man, never allowed the feast of Saint Sylvester to pass without -putting on paper a meditation on his life, his memories, and his views -of the future. On December 31, 1873, he wrote to Erwin Rohde; the tone -of his letter recalls his former habit.</p> - -<p>"The <i>Letters of an Heretical Æsthete,</i> by Karl Hildebrandt, have given -me inordinate pleasure," he wrote. "What a refreshment! Read, admire, -he is one of ours, he is of the society of those who hope. May it -prosper in the New Year, this society, may we remain good comrades! Ah! -dear friend, one has no choice, one must be either of those who hope, -or of those who despair. Once and for all I have decided on hope. Let -us remain faithful and helpful to one another in this year 1874 and -until the end of our days.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 55%;">"Yours,</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 65%;">"FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">NAUMBURG</span>, <i>Saint Sylvester's,</i> 1873-74."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<p>The first days of January came, and Friedrich Nietzsche applied himself -to work once more. Since the strange misadventure at Bayreuth (no doubt -the irritation of an author, whose aid has been rejected, accounts for -these unforeseen changes), he has been tormented by anxieties and by -doubts; he wished to clear them up. In two lines, which are like an -introduction to his thoughts of the time, he brings the Wagnerian art -into history. "Every thought that is great," he writes, "is dangerous, -and dangerous, above all, in its newness. The impression is that of an -isolated phenomenon which justifies itself by itself." Then, having -posited this general principle, he approached the definitive questions: -"What kind of man is Wagner? What does his art signify?"</p> - -<p>It was a catastrophe in fairyland. The modern Æschylus, the modern -Pindar vanished; the beautiful metaphysical and religious decorations -fell in, and the art of Wagner appeared as it really was—an art, -the late, magnificent, and often sickly flower of a humanity fifteen -centuries old.</p> - -<p>"Let us really ask ourselves," wrote Nietzsche in his notes, of which -his friends did not know—"Let us really ask ourselves what is the -value of the time which adopts the art of Wagner as its art? It is -radically anarchical, a breathless thing, impious, greedy, shapeless, -uncertain of its groundwork, quick to despair—it has no simplicity, -it is self-conscious to the marrow, it lacks nobility, it is violent, -cowardly. This art unites pell mell in one mass all that still attracts -our modern German souls; aspects, ways of feeling, all comes pell -mell. A monstrous attempt of art to affirm and dominate itself in an -anti-artistic period. It is a poison against a poison."</p> - -<p>The demi-god was gone, and in his place was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> stage-player. Nietzsche -recognised despairingly that he had allowed himself to be captured -by the gambols of a giant. He had loved with simplicity and with the -ardour of his youth, and had been deceived. There was jealousy in his -anger, and a little of that hatred which is never far from love. His -heart, his thought, of which he was so proud, he had given to a man: -this man had trifled with these sacred gifts.</p> - -<p>We may pass over these personal sorrows; others, even more profound, -humiliated Friedrich Nietzsche. He was humiliated because he had -betrayed Truth. He had desired to live for her; he now perceived that -for four years he had lived for Wagner. He had dared to repeat after -Voltaire, "It is necessary to tell the truth and sacrifice oneself;" -he now saw that he had neglected her, that perhaps he had shunned -her, in seeking consolation from the beauties of Wagner's art. "If -you seek for ease, believe," he had written some years before to his -young sister: "if you desire the truth, search "; and the duty which he -had indicated to this child he had himself failed to observe. He had -suffered himself to be seduced by images, by harmonies, by the magic of -words; he had fed on lies.</p> - -<p>His fault was graver yet, for he had consented to this abasement. The -universe is evil, he had written in <i>The Origin of Tragedy</i>—cruel -like a dissonance of notes, and the soul of man, dissonant like the -universe, suffering from itself, would detach itself from life if it -did not invent some illusion, some myth which deceives but appeases it -and procures it a refuge of beauty. In truth, if we thus draw back, -if we create our consolations for ourselves, whither will we not let -ourselves be led? One hearkens to one's weakness; there is no cowardice -that is not thus authorised. To accept is to deliver oneself over to -the illusionist. Is it a noble or a vile illusion? How can we know if -we are deceived, if we ask to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> deceived? Nietzsche felt his memories -degraded, and his hopes discouraged by the bitterness of remorse.</p> - -<p>The <i>Use and Abuse of History</i> appeared in February. It is a pamphlet -directed against that science, history, the invention and pride of -the moderns; it is a criticism of the faculty, recently acquired by -men, by which they reanimate within themselves the sentiments of past -centuries, at the risk of lessening the integrity of their instincts -and perplexing their rectitude. A brief indication gives the spirit of -the book.</p> - -<p>"The man of the future: eccentric, energetic, hot-blooded, -indefatigable, an artist, and an enemy of books. I should desire to -hunt from my ideal State the self-styled 'cultivated' men, as Plato did -the poets: it would be my terrorism."</p> - -<p>Thus Nietzsche affronted the ten thousand "Herr Professors" to whom -history is their daily bread and who guide the public. He was punished -by their hatred and their silence. No one spoke of his book. His -friends tried to find him some readers. Overbeck wrote to his student -friend, Treischke, the political writer, the Prussian historiographer. -"I am sure," he said to him, "that you will discern in these -contemplations of Nietzsche's the most profound, the most serious, the -most instinctive devotion to German greatness." Treischke refused his -assent; Overbeck wrote again. "It is Nietzsche, my suffering friend, of -whom I will and above all must talk to you." Treischke showed temper -in his reply and the dispute became bitter. "Your Basle," he wrote, -"is a boudoir, from which German culture is insulted!" "If you saw the -three of us, Nietzsche, Romundt, and myself," said Overbeck, "you would -see three good companions. Our difference strikes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> me as a painful -symbol. It is so frequent an accident, so unfortunate a feature in our -German history, this misunderstanding between political men and men -of culture." "How unlucky for you," retorted Treischke, "that you met -this Nietzsche, this madman, who tells us so much about his inactual -thoughts, and who has nevertheless been bitten to the marrow by the -most actual of all vices, the <i>folie des grandeurs.</i>"</p> - -<p>Overbeck, Gersdorff and Rohde wretchedly watched the failure of this -book which they admired. "It is another thunderbolt," wrote Rohde; -"it will have no more effect than fireworks in a cellar. But one day -people will recognise it and will admire the courage and precision -with which he has put his finger on our worst wound. How strong he -is, our friend." And Overbeck: "The sensation of isolation that our -friend experiences is growing in a painful manner. Ever and ever to sap -the branch of the tree on which one supports oneself cannot be done -without grievous consequences." And Gersdorff: "The best thing for -our friend would be for him to imitate the Pythagoreans: five years -without reading or writing. When I am free, which will be in two or -three years, I shall return to my property: that asylum will be at his -disposal."</p> - -<p>These men, with their touching solicitude concerning their friend's -lot, did not suspect either the true cause or the intensity of his -distress. They pitied his solitude, they did not know how profound -it was, or how lonely he was even with them. What mattered to him -the failure of a book from which he was separated by a revolution of -thought? "As to my book," he wrote to Rohde, "I can hardly think that I -wrote it." He had discovered his error and his fault. Hence his sorrow, -hence the agony which he dared not confess. "At the present moment," he -announced to Gersdorff, "many things ferment within me, many extreme -and daring things. I do not know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> in what measure I may communicate -them to my best friends, but in any case I cannot write them." One -evening, however, passion carried him away. He was alone with Overbeck; -the conversation happened to turn on <i>Lohengrin,</i> and, with a sudden -fury, Nietzsche pulled to pieces this false and romantic work. Overbeck -listened to him in amazement. Nietzsche became silent, and from that -moment was more careful to practise the pretence which shamed him and -disgusted him with himself.</p> - -<p>"Dear, true friend," he wrote to Gersdorff in April, 1874 "if only -you could have a far lower opinion of me! I am almost sure you will -lose those illusions that you have about me, and I would wish to be -the first to open your eyes, by explaining fully and conscientiously -that I <i>deserve nothing.</i> If you could understand how radically I am -discouraged, and from what melancholy I suffer on my own account. I -do not know if I shall ever be capable of production. Henceforward I -seek only a little liberty, a little of the real atmosphere of life, -and I am arming myself against the numerous, the unspeakably numerous, -revolting slaveries that encompass me. Shall I ever succeed? Doubt upon -doubt. The aim is too distant, and if I ever succeed in reaching it, -then I shall have consumed the better part of myself in long and trying -struggles. I shall be free and languishing like an ephemeron at dusk. I -express my lively fear! It is a misfortune to be so conscious of one's -struggles, so clairvoyant...."</p> - -<p>This letter was written on the 1st April On the 4th of April he sent -Fräulein von Meysenbug a letter which was quite melancholy and yet less -hopeless.</p> - -<p>"Dear Fräulein, what pleasure you give, and how deeply you touch me! -This is the first time that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> I have had flowers sent to me, but I know -now that these numberless living colours, voiceless though they be, can -speak plainly to us. These heralds of spring are blooming in my room, -and I have been able to enjoy them for more than a week. It needs must -be that, in our grey and painful lives, these flowers should come and -lay bare to us a mystery of nature. They prevent our forgetting that -it always is, and always must be, possible for us to find, somewhere -in the world, life and hope and light and colour. How often do we lose -this faith! And how beautiful and happy a thing it is when those who -are battling confirm themselves and one another in courage, and by -sending those symbols of flowers or books, recall their common pledge.</p> - -<p>"My health (forgive a word on this subject) has been satisfactory -since the new year, save that I have to be careful of my sight. -But, as you know, there are states of physical suffering that are -almost a blessing, for they produce forgetfulness of what one suffers -<i>elsewhere.</i> Rather one tells oneself that there are remedies for the -soul, as there are for the body. That is my philosophy of illness, and -it gives hope for the soul. And is it not a work of art, still to hope?</p> - -<p>"Wish me strength to write my eleven 'Unseasonable Thoughts' that still -remain to be done. Then at last I shall have said everything that -weighs upon us; and it may be that after this general confession, we -shall feel ourselves liberated, in however slight a degree.</p> - -<p>"My heartfelt wishes are with you, dear Fräulein."</p> - -<p>At last Friedrich Nietzsche began to work. His instinct brought him -back to the philosopher who had helped his first years. He wished to -consecrate to Schopenhauer his third "Unseasonable Thought." Ten years -before, he had led a miserable existence at Leipsic; Schopenhauer -saved him. His strange gaiety, his lyricism, the irony with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> which he -expresses his harshest thoughts, had restored to him the power of life. -If Schopenhauer "troubles you, burdens you," he wrote at that time to a -friend, "if he has not the power to raise you, and guide you, through -the keenest sorrows of external life, to that sorrowful, but happy -state of mind that takes hold on us when we hear great music, to that -state in which the surroundings of the earth seem to fall away from -us—then I do not claim to understand his philosophy."</p> - -<p>Once more he experienced the impressions of his youth. He remembered -that the most productive crises of his life had been the most -sorrowful, and as a disciple in the school of his former master he -recovered his courage. "I have eleven fine melodies yet to sing," he -writes to Rohde, in announcement of the work which was to follow. And -his Schopenhauer is a melody, a hymn to Solitude, to the daring of -a thinker. His heart was full of music at that time. He rested from -writing and composed a hymn to Friendship. "My song is for all of you," -he wrote to Erwin Rohde.</p> - -<p>His sister joined him, and the two left Basle and settled together in -the country, near the falls of the Rhine. Friedrich Nietzsche recovered -the gaiety of his most childish days, partly, no doubt, to amuse the -girl who had come so tenderly to join him—<i>aliis lætus, sibi sapiens,</i> -according to the maxim that is found written in his diary of the -time—but also because he was truly happy, despite his sorrow: happy to -be himself, free and unspotted before life. "My sister is with me," he -writes to Gersdorff. "Every day we make the finest plans for our future -life, which is to be idyllic, hard-working, and simple. All is going -well: I have put well away, far from me, all weakness and melancholy."</p> - -<p>He used to walk with his sister and talk, laugh, dream, and read. What -did he read? Schopenhauer, no doubt, and Montaigne, in that small and -elegant edition which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> became a sad reminder: Cosima Wagner had given -it to him in former days at Triebschen in gratitude for the dolls he -used to bring to the little girls. "Because that man wrote," he used -to say, "the pleasure of life on earth has been intensified. Since I -have had to do with this free and brave spirit I like to repeat what he -himself said of Plutarch—'Je ne le puis si peu raccointer que je n'en -tire cuisse ou aile.' If the duty were laid upon me, it would be in his -company that I would attempt to live on earth as at home." Schopenhauer -and Montaigne: these two ironists, one confessing his despair, the -other hiding it, are the men with whom Nietzsche elects to try to live. -But he read at the same time with deepest appreciation the work of a -younger thinker, one less unfavourable to his aspirations—the trustful -Emerson, the young prophet of a young people, one who in his slightest -expressions so happily renders the pure emotion that lightens the -eighteenth year of a man's life and passes away with that year.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche had read Emerson at Pforta, and he discovered him -again in the spring of 1874, and recommended him to his friends.</p> - -<p>"The world is young," wrote Emerson at the end of his <i>Representative -Men.</i> "The former great men call to us affectionately. We too must -write Bibles, to unite again the heavens and the earthly world. The -secret of Genius is to suffer no fiction to exist for us; to realise -all that we know in the high refinement of modern life, in arts, -in sciences, in books, in men; to exact good faith, reality, and a -purpose: and first, last, midst, and without end, to honour every truth -by use."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche had need of the comfort of such words and loved them.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche finished the manuscript of his <i>Schopenhauer as -Educator</i> at the beginning of June.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> Intellectually he was almost -cured, but he had other sufferings. Madame Förster-Nietzsche tells -how one day, when her brother had expressed his disgust of novels and -their monotony of love, some one asked him what other sentiment could -have the power of inspiring passion. "Friendship," he said quickly. "It -produces absolutely the same crises as love, but in a purer atmosphere. -First of all, attraction brought about on both sides by common -convictions, mutual admiration and glorification: then, distrust on one -side, and on the other doubts as to the excellence of the friend and -his ideas: the certainty that a rupture is inevitable and yet will be -painful. In friendship there are all these sufferings, and others too -many to tell." Nietzsche had knowledge of every one from June, 1871, -onwards.</p> - -<p>He loved Wagner; he had never ceased to love him. He had been able to -correct himself of his intellectual error. Richard Wagner was not a -philosopher or an educator of Europe. True enough, none the less he was -a wonderful artist, the source of all beauty and of all happiness, and -Nietzsche desired him still, as one desires a woman, because she gives -joy. Any idea of rupture was unbearable, and to none did he confess his -thoughts.</p> - -<p>The situation was false and awkward. In January, at the worst moment of -the crisis, he had to write to Wagner to congratulate him on a truly -extraordinary and unexpected piece of news: the King of Bavaria, the -poor madman, had suddenly stepped in and rescued the enterprise of -Bayreuth by promising the necessary money. At the same time Nietzsche -despatched his pamphlet on <i>The Use and Abuse of History.</i> Now, there -was not one mention in it of the master's name. This created rather a -shock at Bayreuth, and Madame Cosima Wagner took upon herself the task -of delicately calling him to order.</p> - -<p>"It has been given to you to take part in the sufferings of genius," -she wrote, "and it is this that has made you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> capable of pronouncing -a general judgment on our culture and has lent to your works the -marvellous warmth which, I am convinced, will last long after our stars -of petroleum and gas have been extinguished. Perhaps you would not -have penetrated with so sure a look the colour-medley of Appearance if -you had not mingled so deeply in our lives. From this same source has -sprung your irony and humour, and this background of sufferings shared -has given them a far greater power than if they were simply a play of -the intellect."</p> - -<p>"Alas!" said Nietzsche to his sister, "see what they think of me at -Bayreuth." On the 22nd of May, the anniversary of Wagner's birthday, -Nietzsche paid him his tribute of homage; Wagner answered him at once, -and asked him to come and spend a few days in "his room." Nietzsche -made some excuse and declined the invitation. A few days later he wrote -to Wagner—his letters have been lost or destroyed. He received the -following answer:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRIEND</span>,—Why do you not come to see us?</p> - -<p>"Do not isolate yourself so, or I shall be able to do nothing for you.</p> - -<p>"Your room is ready.</p> - -<p>"I have just received your last letter; I shall say more of it another -time.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 70%;">"Yours cordially,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 85%; font-size: 0.8em;">"R. W.</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">WAHNFRIED</span>, <i>the 9th June,</i> 1874."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>It is probable that Wagner liked Nietzsche as far as he was capable -of liking any man. From among all the admirers and too submissive -disciples who surrounded him he distinguished this zealous young man, -eager to give himself, eager for freedom. He was often impatient and -forgave quickly. He guessed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> though he did not precisely understand, -that crises of tragedy shook this troubled life: so he wrote kindly. -But Nietzsche only suffered the more: he felt more keenly the value of -what he was going to lose. His courage failed him, and for the second -time he refused the master's invitation. An echo reached him of the -irritation caused at Bayreuth.</p> - -<p>To a friend he wrote: "I hear that they are again worried about me -there, and that they consider me unsociable and ill-humoured as a sick -dog. Really, it is not my fault if there are some people whom I prefer -seeing at a distance to near at hand."</p> - -<p>The faithful Gersdorff—faithful to both parties, master and -disciple—wrote to Nietzsche begging and pressing him to come; -Nietzsche resisted his insistence and revolted at it.</p> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">"DEAR FRIEND,</span>—Where did you get this strange idea of compelling me by -a threat to spend a few days this summer at Bayreuth? We know, both of -us, that Wagner is naturally disposed to distrust, but I do not think -it wise to kindle this distrust further; besides, consider that I have -duties towards myself, and that they are difficult to discharge with my -health shattered as it is. Really, it is not right for any one to lay -constraint of any kind on me."</p> - -<p>These revolts were only momentary. Nietzsche had not the strength to -break with Wagner. He longed with his whole being to preserve the -friendship. Certainly he had refused to go to Bayreuth. But he had -given excuses. He had asked for time, given urgent work as a pretext; -he had made arrangements for the future. And towards the end of July, -receiving a new invitation, tired at last of denying himself, he set -out.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile a curious idea had occurred to him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> - -<p>Did he merely wish to affirm his independence? or did he wish to -<i>correct</i> Wagner? It may be that he conceived the fantastic dream of -influencing his master, purifying him, lifting him up to the height -of the devotion which he inspired. He took a score of Brahms, whom he -admired, and whom Wagner pursued with a jealousy that was comic at -times, slipped it in his trunk, and, early in the first evening, put -it well in view on the piano. It was bound in the most beautiful red. -Wagner perceived it, and, without doubt, understood; he had the sense -to say nothing. Next day, however, Nietzsche repeated the manœuvre. -Then the great man exploded; he screamed, raged, and foamed; then -dashed off, banging the doors behind him. He met Nietzsche's sister, -who had come with her brother, and, suddenly laughing at himself, gaily -related the anecdote.</p> - -<p>"Your brother had again thrust that red score on the piano, and the -first thing I see on entering the room is it! Then I fell into a fury, -like a bull before a red rag. Nietzsche, as I knew well, wanted me -to understand that that man, too, had composed beautiful music. I -exploded—what is called exploding!"</p> - -<p>And Wagner laughed noisily. The bewildered Fräulein Nietzsche sent for -her brother.</p> - -<p>"Friedrich, what have you done? What has happened?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! Lisbeth. Wagner has not been great...." Wagner had laughed; he was -appeased. That same evening, he made friends again with the <i>enfant -terrible.</i> But Nietzsche, as he shook hands with the master, allowed -himself no illusion: the gulf between them was deeper, the definitive -separation more menacing.</p> - -<p>He left Bayreuth. His health, tolerable in the month of August, was -bad in September; well or ill, he worked, correcting the proofs of his -<i>Schopenhauer,</i> which he published in October.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You will know enough from my book," he wrote to Fräulein von -Meysenbug, "of the ordeals of my year, ordeals in reality more cruel -and more serious even, than you will be able to guess in reading me. -Still, <i>in summa,</i> all's well, my life is bereft of sunshine, but -<i>I advance,</i> and that is assuredly a great happiness, to advance in -one's duty.... At the moment, I want to make myself clear as regards -the system of antagonistic forces on which our 'modern world' rests. -Happily I have neither political nor social ambitions. No danger -menaces me, no considerations hinder me, nor am I inclined or forced -to compromise. In short, I have a free field, and I will know one day -in what degree our contemporaries, proud as they are of their liberty -of thought, tolerate free thoughts.... What will be my ardour when -at last I shall have thrown off all that mixes in me of negation and -refractoriness! And yet, I dare to hope that in about five years this -magnificent aim will be ready to be achieved."</p> - -<p>It was a hope well charged with shadows. Friedrich Nietzsche, greedy to -possess, longing to act, had to look forward to five years of waiting, -of arid work, of criticism. "Thirty years," he put down in a note-book. -"Life becomes a difficult affair. I see no motive to be gay; but there -ought always to be a motive to be gay."</p> - -<p>He returned to Basle and recommenced his course. This duty, which had -always been a burden, became heavier still: he was entrusted with the -charge of a Greek class for quite young men. He was conscious of the -value of his time, and knew that every hour given to the University -added to the delay, already so long, of the five years. He suffered -from each of them as from a remorse, as though he were failing in his -duty as a man of letters.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I have before me work enough for fifty years," he wrote to his mother -in autumn, "and I must mark time under the yoke, and it is with -difficulty that I can throw a look to right or left. Alas! (a sigh). -The winter has quickly come, very quickly, a very hard one. It will -probably be cold at Christmas. Would I bother you if I went to see you? -I delight so much in the thought of being once more with you, free for -ten days of this cursed University work. So prepare me for Christmas a -little corner in the country, where I might end my life in peace and -write beautiful books.</p> - -<p>"Alas! (a sigh)."</p> - -<p>In these moments of depression he was always seized by memories of -Wagner, and of the almost serene existence that he had tasted in his -intimacy. The glory of the master, a moment faded, went on increasing; -the public bowed before success, and Nietzsche, who had fought in the -difficult times, had now to stand aside in the hour of triumph. The -idea that the art of Wagner was within his reach, always offering -the miracle of its "fifteen enchanted worlds "; the idea that Wagner -himself was there, offering himself also, ever genial, abundant, -laughing, tender, sublime, caressing, and like a god creating life -around him: the idea that he had possessed so much beauty, and that, -with a little cowardice, he could possess it again, and that never, -never again would he possess it; this was an everlasting sadness to -Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>Finally, giving way to his need of an outlet, he wrote to the one -comforter, to Wagner. Like all his other letters to Wagner, this letter -is lost, or destroyed; but the tone of the letter which we are about to -quote, the tone of Wagner's reply, helps us to imagine its eloquence.</p> - -<p>Wagner answered:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRIEND</span>,—Your letter has again made us most anxious on your -account. Presently, my wife will write more fully than I. But I have -just a quarter of an hour's rest, and I want—to your great annoyance -possibly—to devote it to posting you up in what we say of you here. -It seems to me, amongst other things, that never have I had in my life -such intellectual society as you get in Basle, to amuse you in the -evenings. However, if you are all hypochondriacs, it is not a great -benefit, I admit. It is, I think, women that you need, you young men -of to-day. There is a difficulty, as I well know: as my friend Sulzer -used to say, 'Where take women without stealing them?' Besides, one -could steal at a pinch. I mean to say you ought to marry, or compose an -opera; one would be as good, or as bad, as the other. All the same, I -hold that marriage is the better.</p> - -<p>"In the meanwhile, I could recommend you a palliative, but you always -settle your <i>régime</i> in advance, so that one can say nothing to you. -For example: our household here is so organised that we have a place -such as was never offered me in the most difficult moments of my life, -here for you: you should come and spend all the summer holidays;—but -very prudently, you announced to us, at the beginning of winter, that -you had resolved to pass the summer holidays on a very high and very -solitary mountain in Switzerland! Does that not look like very careful -guarding against a possible invitation? We could be useful to you in -some directions: why do you despise that which is offered you in such -good part? Gersdorff and all the society of Basle would be happy here: -a thousand things are to be seen: I pass in review all my singers of -the <i>Nibelungen;</i> the decorator decorates, the machinist machines; and -then we are there, in flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>"But one knows the eccentricities of friend Nietzsche!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So I shall say no more about you, because it serves no purpose.</p> - -<p>"Ah! <i>mon Dieu!</i> marry a rich woman! O, why should Gersdorff happen to -be of the masculine sex! Marry, and then travel, and enrich yourself -with those magnificent impressions which you desire so much! And then -... you will compose an opera which, surely, will be terribly difficult -to execute. What Satan was it that made a pedagogue of you?</p> - -<p>"Now, to end up: next year, in the summer, complete rehearsals (perhaps -with orchestra) at Bayreuth. In 1876, the representations. Impossible -earlier.</p> - -<p>"I bathe every day, I could no longer endure my stomach. Bathe you too! -And eat meat like me. "With all my heart,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 70%;">"Your devoted,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 85%; font-size: 0.8em;">"R. W."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Wagner had foreseen that his letter would be useless. He had not -foreseen that it would be hurtful. Nietzsche repented that he had drawn -forth these tender offers, which he could not accept. In writing, -he had been weak; he was ashamed. Finally, the announcement and the -approach of the Bayreuth rehearsals overwhelmed him. Should he go? -Should he not go? If he did not go, how was he to excuse himself? Could -he still hide his thoughts? Should he henceforth acknowledge all?</p> - -<p>He had commenced a fourth "Unseasonable Thought," <i>We other -Philologists;</i> he abandoned it, alleging, to explain this abandonment, -weariness and the weight of his University duties. When he speaks thus, -Nietzsche deceives either himself or us. Christmas came, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> went -to spend ten days at Naumburg with his mother. He was at liberty and -could work. But instead of writing, he composed and copied out his -<i>Hymn to Friendship</i> for four voices. He spent Saint Sylvester's day in -re-reading his youthful compositions: this examination interested him. -"I have always seen admiringly," he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug, -"how the invariability of character manifests itself in music. What a -child expresses musically is in so clear a manner the language of his -most essential nature that the man afterwards desires to revise nothing -in it."</p> - -<p>This musical debauch was a bad sign of his condition, a sign of -weakness and of fear before his thoughts. Two letters, one from -Gersdorff, the other from Cosima Wagner, came to disturb his solitary -commemoration. His friends spoke to him of Bayreuth. The reminder -plunged him in despair.</p> - -<p>"Yesterday," he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "on the first day -of the year, I saw the future with a real fear. It is terrible and -dangerous to live—I should envy him who came by death in an honest -manner. For the rest, I am resolved to live to an old age. I have my -work. But it is not the satisfaction of living that will help me to -grow old. You understand this resolution."</p> - -<p>During January and February, 1875, Nietzsche did not work. He let -depression get the better of him. "At very rare moments," he writes, -"ten minutes every fortnight, I compose a <i>Hymn to Solitude.</i> I will -show it in all its dreadful beauty."</p> - -<p>In March, Gersdorff came to sojourn in Basle. Nietzsche, encouraged by -his arrival, dictated some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> notes to him. He seemed to have escaped -from his melancholy; then once more he was plunged into it by a fresh -sorrow.</p> - -<p>It had become his habit, a kindly habit and one conformable to his -tastes, to live in common with his two colleagues, Overbeck and -Romundt, who formed the intellectual society of which Wagner spoke with -such esteem. Now, in February, 1875, Romundt announced to Overbeck and -to Nietzsche that he was obliged to leave them to enter into Orders. -Nietzsche experienced a feeling of stupefied indignation: for many -months he had lived with this man, he called him his friend. Yet he -had had no suspicion of the secret vocation now suddenly declared. -Romundt had not been open with him. Subjugated by religious faith, he -had lacked in simple good faith, and the duties of friendship of which -Nietzsche had such an exalted ideal. Romundt's treachery reminded him -of another treachery and made it easier for him to understand the news -which was rumoured among Wagnerians: the master was about to compose -a Christian Mystery—a <i>Parsifal.</i> Nothing was so displeasing to -Friedrich Nietzsche as a return to Christianity: nothing seemed to him -more weak or cowardly than such a capitulation to the problems of life. -Some years before, he had known and admired the different projects on -which Wagner conversed with his intimates: he then spoke of Luther, -of the Great Frederick; he wished to glorify a German hero and repeat -the happy experiment of <i>Die Meistersinger.</i> Why had he abandoned his -projects? Why did he prefer Parsifal to Luther? and to the rude and -singing life of the German Renaissance, the religiosity of the Graal? -Friedrich Nietzsche then understood and measured the perils of the -pessimism which accustoms souls to complaint, weakens and predisposes -them to mystical consolations. He reproached himself for having taught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> -Romundt a doctrine too cruel for his courage, and thus to have been the -cause of his weakness.</p> - -<p>"Ah! our Protestant atmosphere, good and pure as it is!" he wrote -to Rohde; "I have never felt so strongly how well I am filled with -the spirit of Luther. And the unlucky man turns his back on so many -liberating geniuses! I ask myself if he is in his senses, and if it -would not be better to treat him with cold water and douches; so -incomprehensible is it to me, that such a spectre should rise up by me, -and take possession of a man for eight years my comrade. And to crown -all it is on me that the responsibility of this base conversion rests. -God knows, no egoistic thought induces me to speak thus. But I believe -too that I represent a sacred thing, and I should be bitterly ashamed -if I merited the reproach of having the slightest connection with this -Catholicism which I detest thoroughly."</p> - -<p>He wished to bring back, to convince his friend, but no discussion was -possible. Romundt did not answer and held to his resolve. He left on -the fixed date. Nietzsche wrote to Gersdorff, and related the story of -this departure.</p> - -<p>"It was horribly sad: Romundt knew, repeated endlessly that -henceforward he had lived the better and the happier part of his life. -He wept a great deal and asked our forgiveness. He could not hide -his misery. At the last moment I was seized with a veritable terror; -the porters were shutting the carriage doors, and Romundt, wishing -to continue speaking to us, wanted to let down the window, but it -stuck; he redoubled his efforts, and while he tormented himself thus, -hopelessly trying to make himself heard, the train went out slowly, and -we were reduced to making signs to each other. The awful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> symbolism of -the whole scene upset me terribly, and Overbeck as much as it did me -(he confessed as much to me later): it was hardly endurable; I stayed -in bed the next day with a bad headache that lasted thirty hours, and -much vomiting of bile."</p> - -<p>This day of illness marked the beginning of a very long attack. -Nietzsche was obliged to leave Basle and to repose in the solitude -of the mountains and woods. "I wander always alone," he writes, -"clearing up many thoughts." What were these thoughts? We can ascertain -them. "Send me a comforting message," he wrote to Rohde: "that your -friendship may help me better to support this terrible affair. It is in -my sentiment of friendship that I am hurt. I hate more than ever that -insincere and hypocritical way of being a man of many friendships, and -I will have to be more circumspect in the future."</p> - -<p>Fräulein Nietzsche, who had passed the month of March at Bayreuth with -the Wagners, came back to her brother, whose condition alarmed her. He -seemed obsessed by the memory of Romundt. "That such a misadventure -should occur between friends living under the same roof," he was -constantly saying. "It is appalling." In reality he was thinking of -the other friend, Richard Wagner, of the master he was losing. "What -a peril I have run," he said to himself. "I admired, I was happy, I -delivered myself over to and followed an illusion, but all illusions -are connected, and accomplices. Wagnerism borders upon Christianity." -Tirelessly he listened to his sister's accounts of the marvels of -Bayreuth, of the activity, the enthusiasm, the joy of all. Walking one -day with him in a public garden, she related for the tenth time this -same story: she noticed that her brother was listening to her with a -strange emotion. She interrogated him, plied him with questions, and -then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> secret which he had kept for a year escaped him in a long, -eloquent plaint. He was suddenly silent. He remarked that a wayfarer -was following and spying on him. He dragged his sister precipitately -away, terrified by the idea that his words would be repeated at -Bayreuth. A few days later, having recognised again the too curious -wayfarer, he was able to learn his name: it was Ivan Turgenieff.</p> - -<p>July, 1875, the month fixed for the rehearsals of the Tetralogy, -approached, and these rehearsals were the sole preoccupation of -Nietzsche's friends, the sole subject of their letters and their -conversations. He continued to dissemble and dared not decide the -question which was becoming urgent: Should he go to their rehearsals -or not? His enervation increased day by day, bringing on the ordinary -troubles; headaches, insomnia, sickness, internal cramp: finally his -health served for an excuse. "As you are going to Bayreuth," he wrote -to Gersdorff, "warn them that they will not see me. Wagner will be -greatly provoked, I am not less."</p> - -<p>About the beginning of July, when his friends were hurrying towards -Bayreuth and the University of Basle had closed its doors, he retired -to the little therapeutic station which his doctor had recommended, -Steinabad, a spot lost in a valley of the Black Forest.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche had the faculty of occasionally rising above his -own sorrows and his own joys. He knew how to enjoy the spectacle of his -crises as though they were the intermingled voices of a symphony. Then -he ceased to suffer, and contemplated with a sort of mystical rapture -the tragic development of his existence. Such was his life during the -few weeks of his cure at Steinabad. It brought him nevertheless no -motive of happiness. His illness resisted remedies, and the doctors -let him guess, as at the origin of all these attacks, an identical, -indiscernible, and mysterious cause. He did not forget the nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> of -the illness that had killed his father at thirty-six years of age. He -took the hint and felt the danger: but he even brought this menace into -the spectacle of his life and considered it bravely.</p> - -<p>Steinabad is near Bayreuth; Nietzsche was once more tempted. Would -he go, or would he stay? This indecision was enough, he broke down -utterly. Towards the end of July, a terrible attack which kept him -two days in bed did away with these doubts. On the first of August he -wrote to Rohde: "To-day, dear friend, if I am not mistaken, you are all -meeting at Bayreuth. And I am not among you. In vain have I obstinately -believed that I could all of a sudden emerge in your society and enjoy -my friends. In vain; to-day, my cure being half completed, I say it -with certainty...."</p> - -<p>The attack lost its force; he was able to get up and walk in the woods. -He had brought a <i>Don Quixote</i> with him: he read this book, "the -bitterest of all," with its derision of every noble effort.</p> - -<p>Still, he kept up his courage. He recalled without too poignant a -sorrow his past that had been filled with joy. He faced without fear -the menacing future; he thought of that grand work on Hellenism, an -old, unabandoned dream; he thought of the interrupted succession of -the "Thoughts out of Season;" and above all he delighted in conceiving -the beautiful book he would write when he was sure of himself. "To -this work," he thought, "I must sacrifice everything. For some years -I have been writing a great deal, I have written too much; I have -often made mistakes. Now I must keep silence and devote myself to many -years' work; seven, eight years. Shall I live as long? In eight years -I shall be forty. My father died four years earlier. Never mind, I -must accept the risk and peril. The time of silence has returned for -me. I have greatly slandered the modern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> men, yet I am one of them. I -suffer with them, and like them, because of the excess and the disorder -of my desires. As I shall have to be their master, I must first gain -the mastery of myself and repress my trouble. That I may dominate my -instincts, I must know them and judge them; I must restrict myself and -analyse. I have criticised science, I have exalted inspiration, but I -have not analysed the sources of inspiration; and to what unfathomable -depths have I not followed it! My youth was my excuse, I needed -intoxication. Now my youth is over. Rohde, Gersdorff, Overbeck, are at -Bayreuth: I envy, yet pity them. They have passed the age of dreams, -they ought not to be there. What task am I going to undertake? I will -study natural sciences, mathematics, physics, chemistry, history, and -political economy. I will accumulate an immense equipment for the -knowledge of men. I will read ancient history books, novels, letters. -The work will be hard, but I shall have Plato, Aristotle, Goethe, and -Schopenhauer constantly by me; thanks to my well loved geniuses my pain -will be less painful, my solitude less solitary."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche's thoughts were almost every day diverted by a -letter from Bayreuth. He received and read it without bitterness. In a -few notes written for himself alone, he fixed the memory of the joys -he owed to Wagner. Then answering his friends: "I am with you in the -spirit during three-quarters of my days," he told them; "I roam like a -shadow around Bayreuth. Do not fear to excite my envy, tell me all the -news, dear friends. During my walks I conduct entire pieces of music -that I know by heart, and then I grumble and rage. Salute Wagner in my -name, salute him deeply! Good-by, my well loved friends, this is for -all of you. I love you with all my heart."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche came back to Basle somewhat the better for his -cure. His sister joined him and wished to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> stay with him. He continued -to lead the wholly meditative and almost happy existence of Steinabad, -with his papers, his books, and his piano.</p> - -<p>"<i>I dream,</i>" he wrote (he underlines these words), "<i>I dream of an -association of unrestricted men, who know no circumspection and wish -to be called the 'destroyers'; they apply to everything the measure -of their criticism, and sacrifice themselves to the truth. Everything -that is suspect and false must be brought to light. We do not wish to -construct prematurely, we do not know if we can construct, and whether -it may not be better to construct nothing. There are cowardly and -resigned pessimists; of these we do not wish to be.</i>"</p> - -<p>He commenced the long studies which he had assigned himself. He -examined firstly Dühring's book, <i>The Value of Life.</i> Dühring was a -Positivist who led the combat against the disciples of Schopenhauer and -Wagner. "All idealism deceives," he told them, "all life that seeks to -escape beyond life vows itself to chimera." Friedrich Nietzsche had no -objection to offer to these premises. "A sane life carries its worth in -itself," said Dühring. "Asceticism is unhealthy and the sequel of an -error." "No," answered Nietzsche. Asceticism is an instinct which the -most noble, the strongest among men have felt: it is a fact, it must -be taken into account if the value of life is to be appreciated. And -even if a prodigious error be here indicated as being at work, then -the possibility of such an error should be placed amongst the sombre -features of being.</p> - -<p>"The tragedy of life is not irreducible," said Dühring, "the -sovereignty of egoism is only apparent; the altruistic instincts work -in the human soul."</p> - -<p>Egoism an appearance! exclaimed Nietzsche. Here Dühring falls into -childishness. <i>Ich wollte er machte mir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> hier nichts vor!</i> God be -praised if it were true! He talks nonsense, and if he seriously -believes what he says, he is ripe for all the socialisms. Nietzsche -finally held out as against Dühring for the tragic philosophy that -Heraclitus and Schopenhauer had taught him. There is no possible -evasion, all evasion is a lure and a cowardice. Dühring says it and -he speaks truly; but he attenuates the task in presenting a sweetened -image of that life in which we are set. It is either stupidity or -falsehood: life is hard.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche was gay, or appeared so. In the evening (he did -not work because of his eyes) his sister read Walter Scott's novels to -him. He liked their simple narration. "The serene art, the andante," he -writes; he also liked the heroic, naïve, and complicated adventures. -"What fellows! what stomachs!" he exclaimed at the recitals of the -interminable feasts; and Fräulein Nietzsche, seeing him so cheerful, -was astonished to hear him a moment later play and develop at great -length his <i>Hymn to Solitude.</i></p> - -<p>She was astonished not without reason: the gaiety of her brother was -artificial; his sadness was real; he dissembled with her, and doubtless -with himself.</p> - -<p>He had begun to study Balfour Stewart's book on the conservation of -energy: he stopped at the first pages. It was odious to him to work -thus without the consolation of art, or the real joy of hoping. He -thought he would be more interested in the Indian wisdom, and took -up the English translation of the <i>Sutta Nipâta.</i> Only too well he -understood its radical nihilism.</p> - -<p>"When I am ill and in bed," he writes in December to Gersdorff, "I let -myself be oppressed by the persuasion that life is without value, and -all our ends illusory...." His crises were frequent: every fortnight he -was disabled by the headaches, internal cramp, twitching of the eyes, -which laid hold of him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>"I wander here and there, alone like a rhinoceros,"</i> Nietzsche had -kept in mind this final phrase of a chapter of the <i>Sutta Nipâta,</i> and -applied it to himself with melancholy humour. His best friends were -then marrying. Nietzsche was ready to abuse marriage and women: one is -rarely sincere when one speaks thus, and we know he was not.</p> - -<p>"I have more and better friends than I deserve," he wrote in October, -1874, to Fräulein von Meysenbug; "what I now wish myself, I tell you -in confidence, is a good wife, and as soon as possible. Then life will -have given me all that I shall have asked of it. The rest is my affair."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche congratulated the fiancés, Gersdorff, Rohde, -Overbeck, and rejoiced with them, but felt the difference of his own -destiny.</p> - -<p>"Be happy," he wrote to Gersdorff, "you who will no longer go wandering -here and there, alone like a rhinoceros."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>The year 1876 was about to begin, the representations of the Tetralogy -were announced for the summer. Friedrich Nietzsche knew that his -irresolution must then cease: "I was exhausted," he wrote later, "by -the sadness of an inexorable presentiment—the presentiment that -after this disillusion I should be condemned to mistrust myself more -profoundly, to despise myself more profoundly, to live in a profounder -solitude than before."</p> - -<p>The impression of the Christmas and New Year festivals, always strong -in him, aggravated his melancholy. He fell ill in December, only to get -up again in March. He was still weak.</p> - -<p>"I find it an effort to write, I shall be brief," he wrote to Gersdorff -the 18th January, 1876; "I have never spent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> so sad and painful a -Christmas or one of such dreadful foreboding. I have had to give up -doubting. The malady which has attacked me is cerebral; my stomach, my -eyes, give me all this suffering from another cause, whose centre is -elsewhere. My father died at the age of thirty-six of inflammation of -the brain. It is quite possible that things may go even quicker with -me.... I am patient, but full of doubts as to what awaits me. I live -almost entirely on milk. It has a good result; I sleep well. Milk and -sleep are at present my best foods."</p> - -<p>At the approach of spring, he wished to leave Basle: Gersdorff offered -to go with him, and the two friends settled on the shores of the Lake -of Geneva, at Chillon. They spent a bad fortnight there. Nietzsche's -nerves were irritated by the least variation of the atmosphere, which -was more or less humid and more or less charged with electricity, and -he suffered from the "föhne," a soft wind which melts the snows in -March. He let the softness and tepidity depress him, and could not -restrain the heartrending expression of his doubts and his agonies. -Gersdorff, obliged to return to Germany, went with an uneasy mind on -his friend's account.</p> - -<p>But Nietzsche felt better once he was left alone. Perhaps finer weather -favoured him; perhaps he felt his distress less acutely when the -compassionate Gersdorff was not near by, ever ready to lend an ear to -his complaints. His humours became less bitter, and chance procured him -a decisive relief, a liberating hour. Fräulein von Meysenbug had just -published her <i>Memoirs of an Idealist.</i> Nietzsche had put these two -volumes in his bag. Of this woman of fifty he was very fond, and every -day he liked her more. She was always suffering and courageous, always -fine and good. He did not put her on the level of Cosima Wagner. The -superiority of her mind was not dazzling; but she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> great-hearted, -and Nietzsche infinitely esteemed this woman who was faithful to the -real genius of women. Doubtless he began reading her book with moderate -expectations: yet the work held him. It is one of the most beautiful -records of the nineteenth century. Fräulein von Meysenbug had gone -all through it: she had known all the worlds, all the heroes, all -the hopes. Born in old Germany with its petty Courts—her father was -Minister in one of them—as a child she had listened to the friends of -Humboldt and Goethe; as a young girl, the humanitarian gospel touched -her: detached from Christianity, she abandoned its observances. Then -came 1848, and its dream; the Socialists, and their essays towards a -more noble, a more brotherly life: she admired them, and wanted to -work with them. Blamed by her people, she left them and went alone -without asking help or advice. An idealist of action, not of dreams, -she joined the communists of Hamburg; with them she instituted a sort -of phalanstery, a rationalistic school in which the masters lived -together. This school prospered under her direction; but, threatened by -the police, she had to fly. Next she was in London among its proscripts -of all the races, that mournful refuge, and tomb of the vanquished. -Fräulein von Meysenbug earned her living by giving lessons: she knew -Mazzini, Louis Blanc, Herzen: she was the friend and the consoler -of these unhappy men. At the time of the second Empire, of Napoleon -III., of Bismarck, and of the silence of the peoples—in Paris, with -its brilliant culture—Fräulein von Meysenbug met Richard Wagner. She -had long admired his music: she admired the man, listened to him, -succumbed to his ascendancy, and, renouncing the religion of humanity, -carried her fervour to the cult of art. But always she exercised and -lavished her active goodness: Herzen died; he left two children, whom -Fräulein von Meysenbug adopted, thus taking upon herself the anxiety of -a double<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> maternity. Friedrich Nietzsche had known these young girls -and often admired the tenderness of their friend, her free and sane -self-sacrifice: he had not known of what life of entire devotion this -devotion was the flower.</p> - -<p>He was encouraged by this book: Fräulein von Meysenbug reconciled him -to life. Again he found his confidence and health. "My health," he -wrote to Gersdorff, "is allied to my hopes. I am well when I hope."</p> - -<p>He left his <i>pension</i> and went to spend some days in Geneva. There he -discovered a friend, the musician Senger; he made the acquaintance -of a few Frenchmen, exiled communards, and liked talking to them. -He esteemed these fanatics with the square skulls, so prompt to -self-sacrifice. It appears that he flirted with two "exquisite" -Russians. Then he returned to Basle, and his first letter was sent to -Fräulein von Meysenbug.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">BASLE</span>, <i>Good Friday, April</i> 14, 1876. "<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRÄULEIN</span>,—Four days or -so back, finding myself alone on the shores of the Lake of Geneva, I -spent a whole Sunday quite near you, from the earliest hour till the -moon-bathed night. I have read you through and through, with a revived -interest at every page, and I kept on repeating that never had I passed -so blessed a Sunday. You have given me an impression of purity and love -which will never leave me; and Nature, the day on which I read you, -seemed to reflect this impression. You were before me as a superior -form of my being, a very superior form; and which yet did not humiliate -but encouraged me: thus you crossed my thoughts, and, measuring my life -with yours, I am more easily able to feel what I lacked—so much! I -thank you much more than I would do for a book.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I was ill, I doubted my strength and my aims; I thought I should have -to renounce everything, and my greatest fear was of the length of a -life which can be but an atrocious burden if one renounces the highest -aims. I am now saner and freer, and I can consider without torturing -myself the duties I have to fulfil. How many times I have wished you -near me to ask you some question which only a moral being higher than -myself could answer! Your book gives me answers to such of these -precise questions as touch me. I don't think I can ever be satisfied -with my conduct, if I have not first your approbation. But it is -possible that your book is a severer judge than you would be yourself. -What should a man do, if, in comparing his life to yours, he does not -wish to be taxed with unmanliness? I often ask myself this. He ought to -do everything you have done and no more. But doubtless he could not; -he lacks that sure guide, the instinct of a love that is always ready -to give itself. One of the most elevated of moral themes <i>[einer der -höchsten Motive]</i> that I have discovered, thanks to you, is maternal -love without physical bonds between the mother and the child. It is one -of the most magnificent manifestations of <i>Caritas.</i> Give me a little -of that love, dear lady and dear friend, and think of me as one of -those who need to be the son of such a mother. Ah! such a great need!</p> - -<p>"We shall have lots of things to say to one another when we meet at -Bayreuth. At present I again have hopes of being able to go, whereas, -these two past months, I had put the very thought away from me. How I -should like to be now the <i>saner</i> of us two, and capable of rendering -you a service!</p> - -<p>"Why can't I live near you?</p> - -<p>"Adieu; I am and I remain, in all truth, yours,</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">"FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> - -<p>Fräulein von Meysenbug answered at once. "If my book had only been -worth this joy, your letter to me, I would have been happy to have -written it. If I can help you, I want to do so. Next winter, leave -Basle, you must; look for a milder climate and a brighter one; how I -feel, as you do, the annoyance of our separation. I sheltered this -winter your young Basle pupil, Alfred Brenner, who is still ill; you -shall bring him back to me. I will be able to find the two of you a -health-giving home. Come, promise me." Nietzsche wrote immediately: -"To-day I shall answer you in one word; thank you, I shall come."</p> - -<p>Assured henceforth of sanctuary, Friedrich Nietzsche regained -confidence and courage.</p> - -<p>"I have recovered my good conscience," he wrote to Gersdorff a few -days after his return; "I know that up to the present I have done -all I could to enfranchise myself, and that in working thus, I have -not worked for myself alone. I want to start off again on this road, -and nothing more will stop me, neither memories, nor despairing -presentiments. This is what I have discovered—the only thing that men -respect and before which they bow, is a noble deed. Compromise, never! -never! Profound success can only be assured by remaining faithful to -oneself. I know already by experience what influence I exercise, and -that if I became weaker or more sceptical, I should impoverish, besides -my own, the hearts of many who develop with me."</p> - -<p>He needed a pride of this sort to confront the imminent crisis. The -disciples of the master gave him a dinner, and Nietzsche, who did not -want to be present, had to excuse himself. He wrote an impassioned -letter of which Wagner comprehended perhaps the hidden signification.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Seven years ago, at Triebschen, I paid you my first visit. And -every year, in this month of May, on this same day upon which we -all celebrate the anniversary of your birth, I myself celebrate the -anniversary of my spiritual birth. For since then, you live and work -in me always like a drop of fresh blood that had as it were entered -into my veins. This element that I owe to you urges me on, humiliates, -encourages and stimulates me. It never allows me to rest, so much -so that I should perhaps bear a grudge against you for this eternal -disquietude if I did not know that it ever drives me on towards a freer -and better state."</p> - -<p>Wagner answered him at once in a few exuberant lines. He told of the -toasts drunk to his glory and of his humorous responses, with so many -puns, cock-and-bull stories and impenetrable allusions, that it is -necessary to give up the attempt to translate. Nietzsche was moved by -this letter. At the moment it arrived he was feeling very much the -master of himself, very sure of his future. The history of his past -years suddenly appeared as a grand adventure that was now for ever -closed. He considered it with an indulgent regard, and, measuring the -joys he owed to Wagner, he wished to express his gratitude. The other -summer, at Steinabad, when in a similar state of mind, he had filled -some pages of notes. He took them up again, in spite of a nervous -affection of the eyes which prevented him from working without help, -and undertook to draw from them the substance of a volume. Singular -attempt! Disillusioned, he wrote an enthusiastic book, the most -beautiful in Wagnerian literature. But a forewarned reader recognises -almost from page to page the idea that Nietzsche expresses in masking -it. He writes the eulogy of the poet; of the philosopher he does not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -speak; he denies, for him who can understand, the educative bearing of -the work.</p> - -<p>"For us," he writes, "Bayreuth signifies the consecration at the moment -of battle.... The mysterious regard that tragedy turns towards us is -not an enervating and paralysing charm, but its influence imposes -repose. For beauty is not given to us for the very moment of battle; -but for those moments of calm which precede and interrupt it, for -those fugitive moments in which, reanimating the past, anticipating -the future, we penetrate all the symbols; for those moments when, with -the impression of a slight weariness, a refreshing dream descends upon -us. The day and the strife are about to begin, the sacred shadows fade -away, and art is once more far from us; but its consolation is still -shed upon man, as a morning dew...."</p> - -<p>There exists a radical opposition between these thoughts and those that -inspired <i>The Birth of Tragedy.</i> Art is no longer a reason for living, -but a preparation for life, a necessary repose. Three menacing lines -end Nietzsche's little book: "Wagner is not the prophet of the future -as we might fain believe, but the interpreter and the glorifier of a -past." Nietzsche had not been able to keep back these admissions. Brief -and disguised as they were, he had hoped that they might not be heard, -and his hope, it seems, was justified. Wagner wrote as soon as the -pamphlet had appeared:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRIEND!</span>—Your book is prodigious!</p> - -<p>"Where did you learn to know me so well? Come quickly, and stay here -during rehearsals until the representations.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 80%;">"Yours,</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 90%;">"R. W.</p> - -<p><i>" July 12th."</i></p> -</blockquote> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> - -<p>The rehearsals began in the middle of July, and Nietzsche, who did not -wish to miss one of them, went, in spite of the precarious state of -his health, with an impatience that astonished his sister. Two days -later she received a letter: "I almost regret ever having come; up till -now, everything is wretched.... On Monday I went to the rehearsal; it -displeased me, I was obliged to go out."</p> - -<p>What was happening? Fräulein Nietzsche waited with great uneasiness. -She was slightly reassured by a second letter: "MY DEAR GOOD -SISTER,—At present things are better...." But the last sentence -read strangely: "I must live very much to myself, and decline all -invitations, even Wagner's. He finds that I make myself scarce." Almost -immediately came the last letter: "I hope to leave: it is too senseless -to stay here. I await with terror every one of these long musical -evenings. Yet I stay. I can stand it no longer. I shall not be here -even for the first performance ; I will go no matter where—but I want -to leave; here everything is unbearable."</p> - -<p>What had occurred? Had the mere sight of the world driven him away -so soon? Nietzsche had led a very hard existence, during the past -two years, "the friend of enigmas and problems." He had forgotten -men: he suffered on encountering them again. A Titan, Wagner, held -them captive, protected them against every enigma and too disquieting -"problem"; and in this shadow they seemed satisfied. They never -reflected, but repeated passionately the formulas that had been given -them. Some Hegelians had come: Wagner offered himself to them as a -second incarnation of their master. All the Schopenhauerians were -there; they had been told that Wagner had translated into music the -system of Schopenhauer. A few young people were calling themselves -"idealists," "pure Germans": "My art," declared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> Wagner, "signifies the -victory of German idealism over Gallic sensualism." All, Hegelians, -Schopenhauerians, pure Germans, agreed in the pride of triumph: they -had <i>succeeded.</i> Succeeded! Nietzsche heard this extraordinary word in -silence. What man, he pondered, what race ever did succeed? Not even -the Greek, which was bruised in its most beautiful flights. What effort -had not been in vain? So, taking his eyes off the comedy, Nietzsche -examined Wagner: was this dispenser of joys in the end great enough to -become uneasy in the hour of victory? No; Wagner was happy, because he -had succeeded; and the satisfaction of such a man was more shocking and -sadder still than that of the crowd.</p> - -<p>But happiness, however low it be, is still happiness. An exquisite -intoxication had seized the little town of Bayreuth. Nietzsche had -felt and shared this intoxication; he kept the remorse and envy of -it. He listened to a rehearsal: the entrance into the sacred theatre, -the emotion of the public, the presence of Wagner, the darkness, -the marvellous sounds, touched him. How sensible he had remained to -the Wagnerian infection. He got up in haste and went out; it is the -explanation of his letter: "<i>Yesterday evening, I went to a rehearsal; -it displeased me; I was obliged to go out.</i>"</p> - -<p>A new element aggravated his trouble. He was informed definitely of -the significance of the forthcoming work, <i>Parsifal</i>. Richard Wagner -was about to declare himself a Christian. Thus, in eighteen months, -Nietzsche observed two conversions: Romundt was weak and perhaps the -victim of chance; but Nietzsche knew that with Wagner everything was -grave, and answered to the necessities of the century. Neo-Christianity -did not yet exist: Nietzsche felt it all through <i>Parsifal.</i> He -perceived the danger run by the modern man, so uncertain of himself, -and tempted by this Christian faith, which is so firm a thing, which -calls, which promises and can give peace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> If he did not redouble his -efforts to discover in himself a new "possibility of life," it was -certain that he would fall back into a Christianity, cowardly like -his inspiration. Then Nietzsche saw these men, whose happiness he had -instinctively despised, menaced by a final collapse, and led gently, -and as if by the hand, towards this collapse by the master, by the -impostor who had subjugated them. Not one of them knew whither this -powerful hand might not soon lead them, scarcely one of them was a -Christian, but they were all on the eve of becoming Christians. How far -away was that May day of 1872 in which Richard Wagner conducted, in -this same Bayreuth, Schiller and Beethoven's ode to liberty and joy!</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche saw clearly for them all: the spectacle of these -unconscious lives made him feel desperate, as the sight of the world in -the Middle Ages had made those mystics desperate, who had always before -their eyes the accusing and bleeding image of the Christ. He would have -liked to have torn these people from their torpor, to have warned them -by a word, prevented them with a cry. "I ought to," he thought, "as I -alone understand what is happening...." But who would have listened to -him? He held his peace, he dissembled his dreadful impressions, and -wished to observe without weakness or desertion the tragic solemnities.</p> - -<p>But he could not. Soon he weakened and had to fly. "<i>I should be insane -to stay here. I await with terror each of these long musical evenings, -and yet I stay. I can bear no more.... I shall go, no matter where, but -I will go: here everything is torture to me....</i>"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>The heights which separate Bohemia from Franconia rise some miles from -Bayreuth, and the village of Klingenbrunn, where Nietzsche retired, -is situated in the forests which cover them. The crisis was brief -and less<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> severe than he had dreaded. Now that he had perceived in a -clearer manner the dangers of the Wagnerian art, he saw the remedy -more plainly. "Religiosity," he wrote, "when it is not upheld by a -clear thought, rouses disgust." He renewed his Steinabad meditations -and re-affirmed the resolutions then made. He would make a clean sweep -of the past; resist the seductions of metaphysics; deprive himself of -art; reserve judgment; like Descartes, begin by doubting. Then, if some -new security could be discovered, he would raise the new grandeur on -immovable foundations.</p> - -<p>He wandered up and down the silent forests; their severe peace was a -discipline: "If we do not give firm and serene horizons to our souls -like those of the woods and mountains," he wrote, "then our inner life -will lose all serenity. It will be broken up like that of the men of -towns; it will not know happiness and will not be able to give it." -Then, all of a sudden he released the cry of his sick soul: "I shall -give back to men," said he, "the serenity which is the condition of all -culture. And the simplicity. <i>Serenity, Simplicity, Greatness!</i>"</p> - -<p>Nietzsche, once more master of himself, returned to Bayreuth without -delay: he wished to complete his experience. The excitement of the -crowd was even greater than on the day of his departure. The old -Emperor William was present, on his way to the grand manœuvres. He -had paid Wagner the compliment of being present on two evenings. From -all Bavaria and Franconia, citizens and peasants had hurried hither -to salute their Emperor, and there was almost a famine in the little -invaded town.</p> - -<p>The performances began; Nietzsche heard them all. He listened in -silence to the observations of the faithful and measured the abyss -which he had so long skirted. He continued to see his friends: Fräulein -von Meysenbug,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> Miss Zimmern, Gabriel Monod, E. Schuré, Alfred Brenner, -who did not fail to notice in him a reserve and a silence singular -at times. Often he went off alone, during the intervals or in the -afternoons, with a pleasant and charming spectator, Madame O——, who -was slightly Parisian, slightly Russian. He liked the delicate and -surprising conversation of women, and he excused this one for being a -Wagnerian.</p> - -<p>M. Schuré, who met Nietzsche at these festivals, gives a description -of him which merits repetition. "As I talked to him I was struck by -the superiority of his mind and the strangeness of his physiognomy. A -large forehead; short hair brushed up off his forehead; the projecting -cheekbones of the Slav. The strong drooping moustache, the sharp cut -of the face, would have given him the air of a cavalry officer, had -it not been for an indescribable something in his address that was at -the same time timid and haughty. The musical voice, the slow speech, -denoted the organism of the artist; the prudent and meditative bearing -was a philosopher's. Nothing was more deceiving than the apparent calm -of his expression. The fixed glance betrayed the melancholy labour of -his thought. It was the glance of a fanatic, of a keen observer, and -of a visionary. This double character added a disturbed and disturbing -element, the more so because it always seemed riveted upon one point. -In his effusive moments this look was moistened with the softness -of a dream, but very soon it became hostile again.... During the -general rehearsals, and the first three performances of the Tetralogy, -Nietzsche appeared to be sad and dejected...."</p> - -<p>Each evening was a triumph, and each of them added to Nietzsche's -distress. The <i>Rhinegold,</i> the <i>Valkyrie</i>—these old pieces recalled -his youth, his enthusiasms for Wagner, whom he did not know, whom he -did not dare hope to know. <i>Siegfried:</i> souvenirs of Triebschen;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -Wagner was completing this score when Nietzsche entered into his -intimacy.</p> - -<p>Siegfried was Nietzsche's favourite among the Wagnerian heroes. He -found himself again in this young man, who had never known fear. "We -are the knights of the spirit," he had then written in his notes, "we -understand the song of the birds and follow them." No doubt he was -almost happy when he heard <i>Siegfried;</i> it was the only one of Wagner's -dramas which he could listen to without remorse. Lastly, <i>The Twilight -of the Gods.</i> Siegfried has mixed in the crowd of men; they deceive -him; one evening he naïvely relates his life; a traitor strikes him -from behind and kills him. The giants are annihilated, the dwarfs -vanquished, the heroes powerless; the gods abdicate; the gold is given -back to the depths of the Rhine, whose surging waters cover over the -world, and as they await death, men contemplate the universal disaster.</p> - -<p>It was the end. The curtain fell slowly, the symphony was extinguished -in the night, and the spectators rose suddenly, with one accord, and -gave vent to a loud burst of cheering. Then the curtain rose once more -and Richard Wagner appeared, alone, dressed in a redingote and cloth -trousers, holding his little figure erect. With a sign he called for -silence; every murmur ceased.</p> - -<p>"We have shown you what we wished to show you," he cried, "and what we -can show you when all wills are directed to one object; if on your side -you support us, then you will have an art."</p> - -<p>He retired, then returned; again and again he was recalled. Nietzsche -watched his master standing in the limelight, and he alone in the hall -did not applaud.</p> - -<p>"There he is," he thought, "<i>my ally.</i>.. the Homer who has been -fertilised by Plato...."</p> - -<p>The curtain fell for the last time, and Nietzsche, silent, lost in the -crowd, followed his tide like a wreck.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_3" id="Footnote_1_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_3"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> -</p> -<p> -"Ein Zwillingspaar von einem Haus,<br /> -Gieng muthig in die Welt hinaus,<br /> -Welt—Drachen zu zerreissen.<br /> -Zwi'r Väter—Werk! Ein Wunder war's!<br /> -Die Mutter doch des Zwillingpaars<br /> -Freundschaft ist sie geheissen."<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_4" id="Footnote_2_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_4"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Mahnruf.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h5> - - -<h4>CRISIS AND CONVALESCENCE</h4> - - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche returned to Basle. His eyesight was feeble and -painful, so that he had to accept the help which two friends offered -him: one of them was a young student named Köselitz, whom he had -jokingly called <i>Peter Gast, Peter the Guest</i>—the surname stuck to -him; the other was that Paul Rée, the Jew, with the acute mind, whom -he had known for two years. Thanks to their devotion he was able to -re-read the notes written at Klingenbrunn; he hoped to find matter -in them for the second "Unseasonable Thought." Paul Rée was then -publishing his <i>Psychological Observations,</i> reflections inspired by -the English and French masters, Stuart Mill and La Rochefoucauld. -Friedrich Nietzsche heard this little work read, and appreciated it. -He admired this prudent style of conducting thought; he enjoyed it -on the morrow of the emphatic ceremonies of Bayreuth, as though it -were a repose; and he resolved to study at the school of Rée and of -his masters. Nevertheless he always felt the immense void which his -renouncement of Richard Wagner left in him.</p> - -<p>"At this moment," he wrote, the 20th September, 1876, "I have every -leisure to think of the past—farthest and nearest—for my oculist -makes me sit idle for long periods in a darkened room. Autumn, after -such a summer, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> for me, and no doubt not only for me, more <i>autumn</i> -than any other. After the great event comes an attack of blacker -melancholy, and to escape it one cannot fly too quickly towards Italy -or towards work, or towards both."</p> - -<p>He had obtained the leave for which he had asked, and the sole gladness -which he had in life was the certainty that he would be free for some -months from all professional duties.</p> - -<p>He left Switzerland at the end of October. Alfred Brenner and Paul Rée -accompanied him. The three Germans went down towards Genoa, and thence -took a steamer to Naples, where Fräulein von Meysenbug was expecting -them.</p> - -<p>"I found Nietzsche," she writes, "disappointed sufficiently, because -the journey and the arrival in Naples, in the middle of this noisy, -clamorous, importunate people, had been very disagreeable to him. -In the evening, however, I asked the visitors to take a drive to -Pausilippe. It was such an evening as one sees only down here; sky, -earth, and sea floated in a glory of indescribable colours, which -filled the soul as an enchanting music, a harmony from which every -discordant note was gone. I observed how Nietzsche's face lit up -in joyous and almost childlike astonishment, as though he were -dominated by a profound emotion; finally he gave vent to enthusiastic -exclamations, which I welcomed as a happy augury for the efficacy of -his visit."</p> - -<p>Fräulein von Meysenbug had hired a villa—it was an old pension—on -that slope which glides rapidly towards the sea, carrying its olives, -its lemons, its cypresses, and its vines with it down to the waves. -"On the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> floor," she writes, "there were rooms with terraces for -the gentlemen; on the second, rooms for myself and my maid, with a big -sitting-room for our common use."</p> - -<p>She installed her guests in this retreat which she had selected for -them; but they had to wait a while before they could enjoy the retired -life for which they were in search. A too illustrious neighbour was -stopping hard by—none other than Richard Wagner, who, accompanied by -all his people, was resting at Sorrento after the immense effort and -triumph of Bayreuth.</p> - -<p>He showed no signs of fatigue. His days were spent in walking, his -nights in conversation. With Fräulein von Meysenbug and his friends he -held a sort of court.</p> - -<p>We wonder if Friedrich Nietzsche had expected thus to find his master -before him again? He could not avoid taking part in the walks, and in -the evening parties: but he displayed a slight reserve. Whilst Richard -Wagner talked of his future projects and of his coming work, and of -the religious ideas which he wished to express, Nietzsche preferred to -isolate himself with Paul Rée and to talk of Chamfort and of Stendhal. -Richard Wagner observed these conversations. Now, he disliked Jews, -and Rée displeased him. "Be careful," said he to Nietzsche, "that -man will do you no good." Nietzsche did not modify his attitude. He -spoke little, or, if he did mix in conversation, displayed a forced -liveliness and a gaiety which were not altogether natural. Fräulein von -Meysenbug was more than once surprised:</p> - -<p>"But I never suspected," she writes, "that any change had come over his -sentiments, and I abandoned myself with a whole heart to the delights -which came to complete those of Bayreuth. The joy I experienced in -living in a like intimacy led me to quote one day, as we sat together -at table, a thought from Goethe of which I was very fond: 'Happy he -who, without hatred, withdraws<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> from the world, presses a friend to his -breast, and thus enjoys that something which men know not nor suspect, -that which crosses the labyrinth of the heart at night.' The Wagners -did not know this quotation, and were so enchanted with it that I had -to repeat it to them. Alas! I did not guess that the demons who also -cross the labyrinth of the heart at night and intimately contemplate -the divine mystery of sympathy between noble minds, had already begun -their work of sowing discord and division."</p> - -<p>Towards the end of November, Richard Wagner having left Sorrento, -Fräulein von Meysenbug and her friends were able to regulate their -lives with a view to study. They arranged the employment of their time: -up to noon, work and solitude; at noon, breakfast; after breakfast, a -walk and conversation; in the evening, work and solitude; at night, -after dinner, reading. Paul Rée, the only healthy member in this -society of invalid intellectuals, read aloud. Nietzsche and Fräulein -von Meysenbug were short-sighted; Brenner's lungs were affected. Who -were their authors? Jacob Burckhardt, whose course of lectures on Greek -culture they were studying (a student of Basle had lent his notes); a -little of Michelet; Herodotus; Thucydides. A question posed, a doubt -expressed, sometimes interrupted Paul Rée's readings; and it was almost -always Friedrich Nietzsche who concluded the short debate.</p> - -<p>"Nietzsche was indeed the soul of sweetness and kindliness!" writes -Fräulein von Meysenbug in her charming account. "How well his good -and amiable nature counterbalanced his destructive intelligence! How -well he knew how to be gay, and to laugh with a good heart at the -jokes which often came to disturb the serious atmosphere of our little -circle. When we were together in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> the evening, Nietzsche comfortably -installed in an arm-chair in the shade of a screen; Dr. Rée, our -obliging reader, seated at the table on which the lamp was placed; -young Brenner, near the chimney-piece opposite me, helping me to peel -oranges for dinner; I often said, laughing: 'We represent truly an -ideal family; here are we four people, who scarcely knew each other -before, who are not united by any tie of relationship, who have no -memories in common, and we now live together in absolute concord, in -the most complete personal liberty, and in a perfect content of mind -and heart.' So plans were soon sketched for the renewal and enlargement -of this happy experience...."</p> - -<p>Would it be impossible to come back each year to this Italian coast, -to call one's friends thither, and thus to found a spiritual refuge, -free of every school, of every Church? On the morrow of 1848 Fräulein -von Meysenbug had inspired at Hamburg a sort of Socialist phalanstery, -which became the subject of one of the finest chapters of her book, -and remained to her as one of the greatest memories of her life. -Friedrich Nietzsche in no wise abandoned his ancient dream of a lay -cloister. Thus the memories of the old lady agreed with the hopes of -her young companion. Paul Rée and Alfred Brenner did not refuse their -co-operation, and the four friends gave the project their serious -consideration.</p> - -<p>"Already we are in quest of an appropriate locality," writes Fräulein -von Meysenbug, "for it was at Sorrento, in the heart of this delicious -scenery, and not in the close air of a town, that our project was to -take shape. We had discovered near the shore various spacious grottoes -enlarged by the hand of man, veritable rock halls, in which a sort of -pulpit is actually to be seen, which seems to be especially put there -for a lecturer. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> is here that, during the hot days of summer, we -thought of giving our lessons. We had besides conceived the plan of the -school rather on the Greek model than according to modern ideas, and -the teaching was chiefly to be a mutual instruction in the Peripatetic -manner...."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche wrote to his sister: "My idea, the school of the educators, -or, if you like, <i>modern cloister, ideal colony, free university,</i> is -always floating in the air. What will befall it, who can tell? Already -we have, in imagination, named you directress and administrative head -of our establishment for forty persons."</p> - -<p>At the beginning of spring Brenner and Rée left Sorrento. Fräulein -von Meysenbug and Nietzsche, now alone together, read to one another, -but only a little, for reading tried the eyes of both. They preferred -to talk. Nietzsche was never tired of listening to his companion's -recitals. She told him of the lofty days of 1848. This he liked and, -above all, he liked that she should talk to him of Mazzini.</p> - -<p>He did not forget the chance by which he had had the Italian hero -as carriage companion in April, 1871, as they were crossing the -Alps. <i>No compromise: live resolutely in the whole, the good, and -the beautiful....</i> Mazzini had repeated this maxim of Goethe's to -him, and Nietzsche associated it with his recollection of the man. -Fräulein von Meysenbug had known Mazzini in London. She had admired -his authority in command, his exactitude in obedience, his readiness -to serve every servant of the cause, whether he were called Cavour or -Garibaldi. He had paid the price of this humility; for, forgotten in -the hour of victory, the exile's ban had been maintained against him -alone. Nevertheless, he had wished to end his days in his well-loved -Liguria, and he had come there to die, hiding his name and race.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> The -doctor who took care of him was astonished—he had taken him for an -Englishman—when he heard him speak in so pure an Italian. "Look you," -replied the dying man, "no one has ever loved Italy so much as I loved -her." Friedrich Nietzsche listened to these stories.</p> - -<p>"The man I venerate most," said he to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "is -Mazzini."</p> - -<p>Could Fräulein von Meysenbug have guessed that her young companion, -this young, tender, and enthusiastic German, had just declared war -within himself on those instincts of tenderness and enthusiasm -which obstructed the clarity of his views?—that Nietzsche, the -continuator of Schopenhauer, the friend of Wagner, was now choosing La -Rochefoucauld, Chamfort, Stendhal for masters? Could she have guessed -that this friend who dreamed with her of setting up a lay cloister was -training himself, during his long walks, to face the melancholy of a -life of revolt and of solitude? He formulated the rules of such a life:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>You must neither love nor hate the people.</p> - -<p>You must in no way occupy yourself with politics.</p> - -<p>You must be neither rich nor poor.</p> - -<p>You must avoid the path of those who are illustrious and -powerful.</p> - -<p>You must take a wife from outside your people.</p> - -<p>You must leave to your friends the care of bringing up your -children.</p> - -<p>You must accept none of the ceremonies of the Church.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Fräulein von Meysenbug knew at last. One day Nietzsche handed to her -a pile of MSS. "Read," said he; "here are some impressions which -came to me down there, under that tree; I have never sat down in its -shade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> without plucking a thought." Fräulein von Meysenbug read, and -discovered an unsuspected Nietzsche, a critic and a denier. "Do not -publish that," she said. "Wait, reflect!" Nietzsche's only answer was a -smile. She insisted; the conversation grew animated; they made peace in -reading Thucydides.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of May, Nietzsche, incommoded by the heat, wished to -leave. Fräulein von Meysenbug wanted him to postpone his departure in -order that he might master his first fatigue before he began the trying -voyage. He would not listen to her.</p> - -<p>"Nietzsche is really going to-morrow," she wrote to Rée; "you know -that when he is thus determined upon something he carries it out, even -though the sky sends the most serious warnings to turn him from it. -In that he is no longer a Greek, as he is not attentive to oracles. -Just as, in the most frightful weather, he starts out on an excursion, -so now he goes, tired to death, in defiance of the raging wind which -is lashing up the sea, and will certainly make him ill, for he is -determined to make the voyage from Naples to Genoa by sea."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he has gone," she wrote in another letter. "The charm of -Sorrento in flower could not keep him; he must go, but it is horribly -painful to me to let him travel thus; he is unpractical and so bad at -extricating himself from a difficulty. Luckily the sea is a little -calmer to-day.... Alas, there is so much to regret! Eight days ago we -had sketched plans for his near and distant future. Was his brusque -resolution dictated by a feverish desire to fly from his malady, which -he suddenly fancied had some connection with our spring temperature, -which is truly a little abnormal? But how could he have been any better -elsewhere this miserable spring? I think that at the last moment it -occurred to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> that his departure was nevertheless precipitate. But -it was too late.... This melancholy multiplication of departures has -quite upset me...."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche went to take a cure at the waters of Rosenlaui. -He experienced very little benefit from it, and his immediate -future preoccupied his thoughts. In September he had to resume his -professorial duties. It was his daily bread, and a daily discipline -from which he feared to be freed. But he also knew the horrible ennui -of it. He had been given reason to hope that the authorities at Basle -would consent to grant him, in consideration of his services and of his -illness, a definite discharge with a sufficient pension. Fräulein von -Meysenbug advised him to retire; his sister, on the contrary, advised -him to retain his office, and Nietzsche chose to listen to his sister. -But the nearer came the date of his return, the more lively grew his -revolt.</p> - -<p>"It is a thing which I know, which I feel," he then wrote to a woman -who was helping him in his work, the mother of one of his pupils, Marie -Baumgarten, "that I have in store a loftier destiny. I can make use of -Philology, but I am more than a Philologist. 'I misrepresent myself.' -Such was the persistent theme of my last ten years. Now that a year -of retired life has made everything so visible and so clear (I cannot -express how rich I feel and how much of a creator of joy, <i>in spite</i> of -every affliction, as soon as I am left alone with myself), now, I tell -you with complete confidence that I am not returning to Basle to stay -there. How will it come about? I do not know, but my liberty (Ah! how -modest my material necessities are; little matters to me), my liberty, -I shall conquer it for myself."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - -<p>His sister came to join him at Basle and lived with him. At first his -pleasure was great, but he soon recognised that he could not talk with -this girl who was altogether a Wagnerian and quite devoted to the ideas -of Bayreuth. Paul Rée was the only man whose company he liked; but Paul -Rée was detained in North Germany by considerations of health, and -could not, as Nietzsche had hoped, come to Basle.</p> - -<p>"I hope that I shall soon learn," he wrote to him, "that the evil -demons of sickness are leaving you in peace. All that I wish for you -in the New Year is that you remain as you are, and that you remain -for <i>me</i> as you have been.... Let me tell you that friendship has -never been so sweet to me as in this last year, thanks to you.... -When I hear of your work, my mouth waters, for I desire to be with -you so much. We have been made to understand each other aright; we -always come together, I think, like good neighbours, to whom the idea -occurs, at the same moment, that they should pay each other a visit, -and who meet on the confines of their lands.... When shall we have a -good conversation upon human affairs, a personal, not an epistolary -conversation?"</p> - -<p>In December he wrote to Rée: "Ten times a day I wish to be near you." -Nevertheless he finished his book, or, to be more accurate, he did not -finish it, for he preserved the attractive freedom of his notes. It was -thus that they came to him, one after another, without any connection; -and it pleased him that they should thus remain. His deplorable -health prevented him from putting a weft across them, from imposing -an order upon them. And what did it matter? He recalled those French -writers whose loyalty he loved: Pascal, Larochefoucauld, Vauvenargues, -Montaigne. He wished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> to leave, after their example, some disorder and -some discontinuity in his thoughts. He wished to write a simple book -which should call the most urgent enthusiasts back to prudence. Round -Wagner and Bayreuth, "beautiful souls" were innumerable. Friedrich -Nietzsche, who had just missed being one of these, wished, by talking -in the manner of old Socrates, to make them feel the absurdity of their -faith. <i>Human, All Too Human,</i> was the title which he had chosen. Right -at the end of his conscious life, he recounted the object of his book.</p> - -<p>"A torch in my hand," he writes, "and the light not smoky,<a name="FNanchor_1_5" id="FNanchor_1_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_5" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I have -cast a lively light upon this subterranean world of the Ideal. It -is war, but war without powder and without smoke, without war-like -attitudes, without pathos, without dislocated limbs—all that would -still be 'idealism.' Error after error, I took them and placed them -on the ice, and the ideal was not even refuted—it froze. Here, for -example, freezes 'the Genius'; in this other corner freezes 'the -Saint'; beneath a thick stopper of frozen ice 'the Hero'; and, lastly, -it is 'the Faith' which freezes, she who is named 'Conviction'; -and then here is 'Pity,' which notably grows cold—in fact, nearly -everywhere freezes 'the thing in itself.'"</p> - -<p>Certainly this work is paradoxical. No one is so ardent as Friedrich -Nietzsche, no one has such a belief in his work, in his mission, in -the sublime ends of life; and yet he labours to scoff at them. He -reverses every thesis that he has hitherto upheld. <i>Pereat Veritas, -fiat vita!</i>—he had once written. Now he writes, <i>Pereat vita, fiat -Veritas!</i> Above poetry he places science; above Æschylus, that same -Socrates whom he had at other times denounced. No doubt it is only a -pretence, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> knows it. The ideas which he expresses are not really -his own. He arms himself with irony for a combat which will be short: -for he is not an ironist. He wants to find, and is convinced that he -will find, an unknown lyricism which shall inspire his great works. -<i>Human, All Too Human,</i> is the sign of a time of crisis and of passage, -but what a surprising crisis, what a difficult passage! "The book is -there," wrote Nietzsche, "to the great astonishment of the prostrate -invalid."</p> - -<p>On January 3, 1879, he received the poem <i>Parsifal,</i> which Richard -Wagner sent him. He read it, and could better measure the always -increasing distance which separated him from his old master. He wrote -to the Baron von Seydlitz:</p> - -<p>"Impression from the first reading: more Liszt than Wagner; the spirit -of the counter-reformation; for me who am too accustomed to the Greek -and human atmosphere, all this belongs to a too limited Christianity; -the psychology is fantastic; there is no flesh and far too much blood -(the Last Supper especially has far too much blood about it for me); I -do not like hysterical chambermaids. The style seems like a translation -from a foreign language. But the situations and their developments—are -they not in a vein of the greatest poetry? Never did a musician propose -a higher task to his music."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche, in this letter, did not speak all his thoughts. -Certain features of it <i>(no flesh and far too much blood)</i> let us -divine, as already active and vehement within him, that repugnance -which he was to express ten years later. Nevertheless he loved this -incomparable master, and for the first time he was obliged to put -clearly to himself the problem of the rupture. He had received the poem -<i>Parsifal;</i> should he reply, and, if so,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> in what terms? or should he -take the more frank and simple course of leaving it unanswered?</p> - -<p>His doubts and vexations increased. It is not easy to gauge his -condition at this time. He scarcely confided in his sister. His letters -to Paul Rée, which would no doubt enlighten us, are not printed.</p> - -<p>Since Christmas, 1877, Friedrich Nietzsche had more leisure, his -professional work having been reduced by some hours. He took advantage -of this to leave Basle every week and wander alone in the neighbouring -regions. He did not go to the high mountains; he had little taste for -these "monsters" and preferred the Jura, the Black Forest, whose wooded -heights reminded him of the places of his childhood.</p> - -<p>What were his thoughts? We may conjecture that he was occupied solely -with Wagner and his book. One month, two months had passed, and he had -not acknowledged the receipt of <i>Parsifal. Human, All Too Human</i> was -printed, and the publisher was waiting. But how should he forewarn the -master, how prepare him for this surprising document? His disciples -had accustomed him to the most obsequious homage, the most profound -intellectual deference. Nietzsche knew that his independent work -would scandalise the dovecot of Bayreuth. When the moment for his -pronouncement came he took fright. He was as much concerned for the -public as for Wagner himself. He was ashamed of the philosophy which -he was giving forth as his own. He had written these pages, and he -regretted nothing; he had followed, as he had the right to follow, the -vital logic which ruled his mind. But he also knew that this same logic -would bring him back one day towards a new lyricism, and it would have -suited him to disguise somewhat the interlude of his years of crisis. -He then conceived a singular idea: he would not sign his book; he would -publish it in an enigmatical manner, anonymously; Richard Wagner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> alone -would know the mystery and know that <i>Human, All Too Human</i> was the -work of his friend, of his disciple, who at the bottom of his soul -remained still faithful. He wrote out a long draft of a letter which is -preserved to us:</p> - -<p>"I send you this book: <i>Human, All Too Human;</i> and at the same time -I tell you, you and your noble companion, in complete confidence, my -secret; it suits me that it should be also yours. The book is mine....</p> - -<p>"I find myself in the condition of mind of an officer who has carried a -redoubt. Though wounded he is upon the heights and waves his standard. -More joy, far more joy than sorrow, though the neighbouring spectacle -be terrible.</p> - -<p>"I have told you that I know no one who is really in agreement with me -in thought. And yet I fancy that I have thought, not as an individual, -but as the representative of a group; the most singular sentiment of -solitude and of society....</p> - -<p>"... The swiftest herald who does not know precisely if the cavalry is -coming behind him, or even if it exists."</p> - -<p>The publisher rejected the proposal and Nietzsche had to abandon it. At -last his mind was made up. Europe was about to celebrate, in May, 1878, -the hundredth anniversary of Voltaire's death. Friedrich Nietzsche -decided that he would publish his book at this time, and he would -dedicate it to the memory of the great pamphleteer.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>"In Norway those periods during which the sun remains all day beneath -the horizon are called <i>times of obscurity,"</i> he wrote in 1879; "during -that time the temperature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> goes down slowly and incessantly. What a -marvellous symbol for all thinkers for whom the sun of man's future -has been obscured for a time!" Nietzsche knew his <i>time of obscurity.</i> -Erwin Rohde disapproved of his book, Richard Wagner made no reply; -but Nietzsche knew how he was being judged in the master's circle. -"The caricaturist of Bayreuth," said they, "is either an ingrate -or a madman." An unknown donor (Gersdorff, was it not?) sent from -Paris a box in which Friedrich and Lisbeth Nietzsche found a bust of -Voltaire and a short note: <i>The soul of Monsieur Voltaire presents his -compliments to Monsieur Friedrich Nietzsche.</i> Lisbeth Nietzsche could -not tolerate the idea that her brother, pure German at heart, should -range himself under the banner of a Frenchman, and of such a Frenchman! -She wept.</p> - -<p>No doubt some of his friends passed a different judgment. "Your book," -said Jacob Burckhardt, "enlarges the independence of the mind." "Only -one book," wrote Paul Rée, "has suggested as many thoughts to me as -has yours—the conversations of Goethe and Eckermann." Peter Gast -remained faithful, Overbeck and his wife were sure friends. Nietzsche -did not feel his defeat the less for it "<i>Human, All Too Human</i>" had no -success. Richard Wagner, it was said, was amused by the smallness of -the sales. He chaffed the publisher: "Ah, ah! now you see Nietzsche is -read only when he defends our cause; otherwise, no."</p> - -<p>In August, 1878, <i>Human, All Too Human</i> was judged and condemned in the -<i>Journal</i> of Bayreuth. "Every German professor," wrote the anonymous -author, in whom Nietzsche recognised, or believed that he recognised, -Richard Wagner, "has to write once in his life a book to consecrate -his fame. But as it is not given to all the world to find a truth, -one contents oneself, to obtain the desired effect, with proving the -radical nonsense of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> the views of a predecessor, and the effect is so -much the greater when the predecessor who is put to shame was the more -considerable man."</p> - -<p>This low style of judgment grieved Friedrich Nietzsche. He now proposed -to explain, in a tone of serenity and respect, his attitude in respect -to his old masters, Schopenhauer and Wagner. Only it seemed to him -that the time for courtesies had gone by, and, after reconsidering -his Sorrento notes, he undertook to write a sequel to the thoughts of -<i>Human, All Too Human.</i></p> - -<p>His sister had left him; in September he was leading a painful and -miserable life, a few features of which we can apprehend. He was -avoided, for his agitated condition gave alarm. Often, on coming out -of the University, he would meet Jacob Burckhardt. The wise historian -would slip off by a clever manœuvre; he esteemed his colleague, but -dreaded him. In vain Nietzsche sought to gather new disciples around -him. "I am hunting for men," he wrote, "like a veritable corsair, not -to sell them into slavery, but to carry them off with me to liberty." -This unsociable liberty which he proposed failed to seduce the young -men. A student, Herr Schaffler, has recorded his recollections: "I -attended Nietzsche's lectures," says he; "I knew him very slightly. -Once, at the end of a lecture, he chanced to be near me, and we walked -out side by side. There were light clouds passing over the sky. 'The -beautiful clouds,' he said to me, 'how rapid they are!' 'They resemble -the clouds of Paul Veronese,' I answered. Suddenly his hand seized my -arm. 'Listen,' said he; 'the holidays are coming; I am leaving soon, -come with me, and we shall go together to see the clouds at Venice.' -... I was surprised, I stammered out some hesitating words; then I saw -Nietzsche turn from me, his face icy and rigid as death. He moved away -without saying a word, leaving me alone."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p>The break with Wagner was his great and lasting sorrow. "Such a -farewell," he wrote, "when one parts because agreement is impossible -between one's manner of feeling and one's manner of judging, puts us -back in contact with that other person, and we throw ourselves with -all our strength against that wall which nature has set up between -us and him." In February, 1879, Lisbeth Nietzsche wrote to Cosima -Wagner: had her brother advised her to make the overture? Did he know -of it? Did he approve of it? We cannot say. Cosima answered with an -imperial and sweet firmness. "Do not speak to me of <i>Human, All Too -Human,"</i> she wrote. "The only thing that I care to remember in writing -to you is this, that your brother once wrote for me some of the most -beautiful pages that I know.... I bear no malice against him: he has -been broken by suffering. He has lost the mastery of himself, and this -explains his felony." She added, with more spirit than sense, "To say -that his present writings are not definitive, that they represent the -stages of a mind that seeks itself, is, I think, curious. It is almost -as if Beethoven had said: 'See me in my third manner!' Moreover, one -recognises as one reads that the author is not convinced by his work; -it is merely sophism without impulse, and one is moved to pity."</p> - -<p><i>Miscellaneous Opinions and Apophthegms,</i> which formed the sequel to -<i>Human, All Too Human,</i> appeared in 1879. But the offence which this -second volume might have given was attenuated and, as it were, warded -off, by reason of the pity which Nietzsche now inspired in those who -had formerly known him. His state of health grew worse. His head, his -stomach, his eyes, tormented him without intermission. The doctors -began to be disquieted by symptoms which they could not ascertain, -by an invalid whom they could not cure. It appeared to them that his -eyesight, and perhaps his reason, were threatened. He divined their -alarms. Peter Gast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> waited at Venice, called to him from there; but -Nietzsche was forced to abandon the project of a voyage; he had to -shut himself up in his room at Basle behind closed shutters and drawn -curtains.</p> - -<p>What was to become of him? Rohde, Gersdorff, touched by the wreck of -this man of whom they had hoped so much, wrote to Overbeck: "They -say that Nietzsche is lost, advise us." "Alas," replied Overbeck, -"his condition is desperate." Even Richard Wagner remembered and was -touched. "Can I forget him," he wrote to Overbeck, "my friend who -separated from me with such violence? I clearly see that it would not -have been right to demand conventional considerations from a soul -torn by such passions. One must be silent and have pity. But I am in -absolute ignorance of his life, and of his sufferings; this afflicts -me. Would it be indiscreet if I asked you to write me news of my -friend?"</p> - -<p>Apparently Nietzsche did not know of this letter. He had written, a few -months earlier, among other notes: "Gratitude is a bourgeois virtue; -it cannot be applied to a man like Wagner." His happiness would have -been great, had he been able to read the identical thought, written -by his master, "It would not have been right to demand conventional -considerations from a Nietzsche."</p> - -<p>Overbeck and his wife attended the invalid. They wrote to his sister -that she ought to be at his side. She came at once and scarcely -recognised the stooping, devastated man, aged in one year by ten years, -who thanked her for coming with a gesture of his hand.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche gave up his professorship; he sent in his -resignation, which was accepted. In recompense for his services he was -to receive a pension of three thousand francs.</p> - -<p>Lisbeth took him away. He thought himself a lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> man, and expressed -his last wishes. "Make me a promise, Lisbeth; let my friends only -accompany my corpse; let none who are merely indifferent or curious be -present. I shall no longer be able to defend myself, and you must do -it. Let no priest, let no one come and speak insincere words over my -coffin. See that I am buried like a loyal pagan, with no lies told."</p> - -<p>He longed for the most desert and silent places, for the most complete -solitude; she brought him to the valleys of the Upper Engadine. At that -time very few people went up there. Nietzsche discovered this remote -Switzerland and derived an unexpected comfort from the light and pure -quality of the air, and the kindly light of the meadows, which soothed -his worn-out eyes. He liked the scattered lakes, which recalled a -Finland, the villages with their singing names, the fine peasant race, -which proclaimed the presence of Italy beyond the glaciers. "This -nature is familiar to me," he wrote to Rée; "it does not astonish me, -there is an understanding between us." With a convalescent's surprise -he began to live again. He wrote scarcely any letters; he wrote for -himself, and it is in his work that we must seek the information which -his correspondence formerly gave us. This is how he narrates his ascent -towards the Engadine.</p> - -<p><i>"Et in Arcadia ego.</i>—Above the hills which take the shape of waves, -across the austere pines and the old fir-trees, I have turned my gaze -upon a little lake whose water is green and milky. Around me were rocks -of every contour, a soil painted in discordant colours with grasses -and flowers. Before me a flock moved, now scattering, now closing up -its ranks; some cows, grouped afar-off, below a forest of pines, stood -out in relief under the evening light; others, nearer, more sombre; -and everything calm in the peace of the approaching twilight. My watch -registered half-past five. The monarch of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> herd was walking in the -foam-white brook; he stepped out slowly, now stemming the fierce tide, -now giving way to it: no doubt he found a kind of ferocious delight -in so doing. Two human beings, brown skinned, of Bergamesque origin, -were the shepherds of this flock: the young girl dressed almost like -a boy. To the right, above a large belt of forest, edges of rocks, -fields of snow; to the left, two enormous prongs of ice, far over me, -in a veil of clear mist. Everything grand, calm, luminous. This beauty, -thus suddenly perceived, thrilled, so as to bring into the soul a mute -adoration of this moment of revelation. Into this world of pure light -and sharp outline (exempt from disquiet and desire, expectation and -regret), one was tempted to introduce Grecian heroes—involuntarily, as -though it were the most natural thing. One had to feel in the manner of -Poussin and his pupils; in a thoroughly heroic and idyllic manner. And -it is thus that certain men have lived, thus that they have felt life, -lastingly, within and without themselves; and I recognise among them -one of the greatest of all men, one who discovered a style of heroic -and idyllic philosopher: Epicurus."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche stayed in the Engadine, poorly lodged, sparingly -fed, till September came; but he was satisfied, though deprived of -friends, with his music and books. His sufferings were not intolerable: -he could work and had soon filled six copybooks with pencil notes of -his calmer thoughts, which, though always sceptical, were not bitter, -but seemed, as it were, tempered by the unexpected indulgence. He had -no illusions concerning this respite which he had received. It was a -respite and no more, and he did not hope. Nevertheless he rejoiced -that, before his breakdown, he had the opportunity of saying what -happiness had been procured him by the simple contemplation of things, -of human nature, of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> mountains and the sky; he hastened to harvest -this last felicity. At the beginning of September, 1879, he sent his -completed work to Peter Gast.</p> - -<p>"My dear, dear friend," he wrote, "when you receive these lines my -manuscript will be in your hands. Perhaps you will feel a little of -the pleasure which I have myself when I think of my work that is now -completed. I am at the end of my thirty-fifth year, 'the middle of -life,' they used to say some thousand years ago: it is the age at which -Dante had his vision, as he tells us in the first verses of his poem. -I am now in this middle of life, and on all sides so hard pressed by -death, that at any hour it may take me; my life is such that I must -foresee a <i>rapid</i> death, in spasms.... So I feel like a very old man, -and the more because I <i>have done</i> the work of my life. I have poured -out a good drop of oil, I know it, it will be accounted to me. I -have experienced my manner of life to the full; many will experience -it after me. My continual, my bitter sufferings have not altered my -humour up to the present. On the contrary, it seems to me that I feel -gayer, more kindly, than ever I was: whence comes this influence which -fortifies me and ameliorates my condition? Not from men, for all -but a few are provoked against me,<a name="FNanchor_2_6" id="FNanchor_2_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_6" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and do not grudge the trouble -of letting me know it. Dear friend, read this last manuscript from -end to end, and see if any trace of suffering or of depression is -there disclosed. I <i>think not,</i> and this very conviction assures me -that there must be some hidden strength in my thoughts, and not that -lassitude, that powerlessness, which those who do not approve of me -would like to find in them."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> - -<p>At this instant of his life Nietzsche made ready to die. How? It is not -too hazardous to guess. He was waiting for that "rapid end in spasms," -which had swept off his father in madness, and a pious sentiment -brought him back to the domestic hearth. Released from the obligations -which kept him at Basle, free to choose his retreat, he resisted the -call of Peter Gast from Venice. It was no time for learning to know and -to love a new beauty. "No," said he, "in spite of Overbeck, in spite -of my sister, who press me to rejoin you, I shall not go. In certain -circumstances, as I think, it is fitting that one should be closer to -one's mother, one's hearth, one's souvenirs of childhood...."</p> - -<p>It was to Naumburg, therefore, that he proceeded. He wished to lead -there a life of entire peace, and to distract himself from thought by -manual labour. In a tower of the old ramparts he hired a great room. -Below the old wall there extended an unused piece of land, and this he -took on lease and cultivated. "I have ten fruit trees," he wrote, "and -roses, lilacs, carnations, strawberries, goose-berry bushes, and green -gooseberries. At the beginning of next year I shall have ten rows of -vegetables growing."</p> - -<p>But the invalid was soon obliged to abandon these plans. The winter was -rigorous. Friedrich Nietzsche could not withstand either the glare of -the snow which dazzled his eyes, or the humid air which depressed and -shattered his nerves. In a few weeks he had lost the benefit derived -from his visit to the Engadine.</p> - -<p><i>The Traveller and his Shadow,</i> the proofs of which Peter Gast had -corrected, was published. Apparently it was better understood than the -preceding collections had been. Rohde wrote Nietzsche a letter which -pleased him. Certainly he did not express unqualified admiration. "This -clear but never emotional view of humanity," said he, "pains him who -loves you and who hears the friend in every word." But, on the whole, -he admired.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What you give to your readers," he wrote, "you can scarcely surmise, -for you live in your own mind. But a voice like yours is one which -we never hear, either in life or in books. And, as I read you, I -continue to experience what I experienced at your side in the time of -our comradeship: I feel myself raised into a higher order of things, -and spiritually ennobled. The conclusion of your book penetrates the -soul. You can and you should, after these discordant harmonies, give us -yet softer, yet diviner strains.... Farewell, my dear friend, you are -always he who gives, I am always he who receives...."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche was happy. "Thanks, dear friend," he wrote on the 28th -of December, 1879; "your old affection sealed anew—it is the most -precious gift which these Christmas days have brought me." But his -answer was brief, and the last two lines of his letter give the reason: -"My condition has again become terrible, my tortures are atrocious; -<i>sustineo, abstineo;</i> and I am astonished at it myself."</p> - -<p>This very strong language contains no exaggeration. His mother and -sister, who saw him suffer, bear witness to the awful days through -which he passed. He accepted suffering as a test, as a spiritual -exercise. He compared his destiny to that of men who were great in -sorrow—Leopardi, for instance. But Leopardi was not brave, for, in -his sickness, he defamed life, and—Nietzsche discovered this hard -truth—an invalid has not the right to be a pessimist. Or the Christ. -But even Christ weakened upon the cross. "Father, Father!" He cried -out, "why hast Thou forsaken Me?" Friedrich Nietzsche had no God, no -father, no faith, no friends. Every prop he had taken from himself, -and yet he did not bend. To complain, even in a passing manner, would -be to avow defeat. He refused to make the avowal. Suffering did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> -overwhelm him; on the contrary, it instructed him, and animated his -thought.</p> - -<p>"The enormous tension of the intellect, bent on the mastery of pain," -he writes, "shows everything in a new light: and the unspeakable -charm of every new light is often powerful enough to overcome all the -allurements of suicide, and to make the continuance of life appear as -most desirable to the sufferer. Scornfully he reviews the warm and -comfortable dream-world, wherein the healthy man moves unthinkingly; -scornfully he reviews the noblest and dearest of the illusions in which -he formerly indulged; this contempt is his joy, it is the counterpoise -which enables him to hold his own against physical pain, a counterpoise -the necessity of which he now feels.... Our pride revolts as it never -did before: joyfully does it defend life against such a tyrant as pain, -that tyrant that would force us to testify against life. To stand for -life in the face of this tyrant is a task of infinite fascination."<a name="FNanchor_3_7" id="FNanchor_3_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_7" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche supposed that his end was close at hand. On the -14th of January, wishing to give a last indication of his thought -to some friend, he wrote Fräulein von Meysenbug a letter which is a -farewell and a spiritual testament. What an effort it must have cost -him!</p> - -<p>"Although to write is one of the fruits which is most strongly -forbidden me, still I want you to have one more letter from me, you -whom I love and venerate like a beloved sister—it will be the last! -For the awful and almost incessant martyrdom of my life gives me a -thirst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> for death, and, according to certain signs, I am now near -enough to that access of fever, which shall save me, to be permitted -to hope. I have suffered so much, I have renounced so many things that -there is no ascetic, of any time, to whose life I have not the right to -compare my life in this last year. Nevertheless I have acquired a great -deal. My soul has gained in purity, in sweetness, and I no longer need -religion or art for that. (You will remark that I have some pride; that -is because in my state of entire abandonment I have been able finally -to discover my intimate sources of consolation.) I think that I have -done the work of my life as a man may to whom no time is left. But I -know that for many men I have poured out a drop of good oil, that many -men will be guided by me towards a higher, a more serene, and lucid -life. I give you this supplementary information: when my <i>humanity</i> -shall have ceased to be, men will say so. No sorrow has been or will be -able to induce me to give false evidence on life, as I know it.</p> - -<p>"To whom should I say all this if not to you? I think—but it is -immodest to say so—that our characters resemble each other. For -instance: both of us are brave, and neither distress nor contempt -has been able to turn us from the path which we recognised as the -right path. And both of us have known, in us, around us, many a -truth, the dazzling splendour of which few of our contemporaries have -perceived—we hope for humanity and, silently, offer ourselves in -sacrifice for it, do we not?</p> - -<p>"Have you good news of the Wagners? For three years I have heard -nothing of them. They, too, have forsaken me. I knew for long that -Wagner would separate from me as soon as he should have recognised the -difference of our efforts. I have been told that he writes against me. -Let him: all means must be used to bring the truth to light! I think -of him with a lasting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> gratitude, for I owe him some of the strongest -incitements towards spiritual liberty. Madame Wagner, as you know, -is the most sympathetic woman whom I have met. But our relations are -ended, and assuredly I am not the man to resume them. It is too late.</p> - -<p>"Receive, dear friend, who are a sister to me, the salutation of a -young old man to whom life has not been cruel, although it has come -about that he desires to die."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>He lived, nevertheless. Paul Rée came to see him, read to him, and -succeeded in distracting his thoughts. The weather, which had tried -him so severely, grew warmer, and the snow, which had dimmed his -eyesight, melted. Peter Gast, living as in the previous year at Venice, -steadily wrote and called to him. In the middle of February he felt, -with surprise, a reawakening of strength; his desires, his curiosities -returned to him, and he set out at once.</p> - -<p>He stayed for a month on the shores of Lake Garda, at Riva, and the -improvement in his letters gave his relatives some hope. On the 13th of -March he was at Venice: from that day the end of this crisis and his -convalescence must be dated.</p> - -<p>He had not yet loved Italy. What parts of it did he know? The Lakes: -but their somewhat oppressive tepidity was ill-suited to him, and -he did not relish their over-soft harmonies. Naples and its Gulf: -but he was repelled by the Neapolitan crowd; the splendour of the -spectacle had no doubt conquered, but it had scarcely charmed him. No -intimate union had been established between this dazzling scenery and -his spiritual passions. But from the first moment he yielded to the -fascination of Venice. In Venice he found, at a glance, without effort, -what his Greek masters—Homer, Theognis, Thucydides—had formerly given -him: the sensation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> a lucid intellect, which lived without dreams or -scruples. Against dreams, against scruples, against the prestige of a -romantic art, he had been fighting for four years. The beauty of Venice -was his deliverance. He remembered his agonies and smiled at himself. -Had he not flattered himself in supposing that he was the most wretched -of men? What man who suffered has not had this thought, this childish -conceit?</p> - -<p>"When a first dawn of assuagement, of recovery, supervenes," he wrote, -"then we ungratefully humiliate the pride which formerly made us -bear our sorrow, we deal with ourselves like naïve simpletons—as if -something unique had happened to us! Again we look around at men and at -nature, with desire; <i>the tempered lights</i> of life recomfort us; again -health plays its magical tricks with us. We contemplate the spectacle -as if we were transformed, benevolent and still fatigued. In this -condition one cannot hear music without weeping."</p> - -<p>Peter Gast attended him with touching kindness. He accompanied him in -his walks, read to him, played him his favourite music. At this period -Friedrich Nietzsche liked Chopin above all musicians; he discovered a -daring, a freedom of passion in his rhapsodies, which is seldom the -gift of German art. Doubtless we must think of Chopin in reading those -last words, "In this condition one cannot hear music without weeping."</p> - -<p>Peter Gast also played the part of secretary, for Nietzsche had -recovered his ardour for work. Day by day he dictated his thoughts. He -chose, immediately, the title for a new collection (he gave up the idea -quickly), <i>L'Ombra di Venezia.</i> Indeed, did he not owe to the presence -of Venice this richness, this force, this subtlety of his mind? He -essayed new researches. Was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> it true, as he had written, that a cold -calculation of interest determines the actions of men? that a mean -desire for safety, for ease, for happiness, had created that excessive -beauty to which Venice stands witness? Venice is unique; nevertheless, -she exists and must be explained. A spiritual portent must explain the -physical marvel. What, then, are the hidden springs which determine -our acts? Life, Schopenhauer used to say, is a pure <i>Will to Live;</i> -every being desires to persevere in being. We may go further, thinks -Friedrich Nietzsche, and say that life aspires ever to extend and -surpass itself. Its desire is, not conservation, but growth; a -principle of conquest and of exaltation must be linked to its essence. -How is this principle to be formulated? Nietzsche did not yet know; but -the idea was with him, and importunate. He felt that he was on the eve -of a discovery, on the threshold of an unknown world; and he wrote, or -dictated, to his friend:</p> - -<p>"Actions are never what they appear to be. We have had such difficulty -in learning that external things are not what they appear to us. Well, -it is the same with the internal world! Deeds are in reality 'something -other'—more we cannot say of them, and all deeds are essentially -unknown."</p> - -<p>In July he tried the waters of Marienbad. He lived in a little inn, -situated opposite the wood, where he walked all the length of the day.</p> - -<p>"I am absorbed, and excavate zealously in my moral mines," he wrote -to Peter Gast, "and it seems to me that I have become an altogether -subterranean being—it seems to me, at this moment, that I have found a -passage, an opening; a hundred times I shall be thus persuaded and then -deceived."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> - -<p>In September he was at Naumburg; he seemed to be in a joyful and -talkative humour; his sister Lisbeth recognised on his face that -expression of cheerful sweetness which denotes good mental work, a -plenitude and an afflux of thoughts. On the 8th of October, fearing the -fogs, he descended towards Italy. He stopped at Stresa, on the shore of -the Lake Maggiore. But the climate did not agree with his nerves, and -unsettled his meditations. It was with terror that he recognised once -more that the tyranny of external influences held him at its mercy. -He took fright; could he, if he lived always in a state of suffering, -express those innumerable ideas, philosophical and lyrical, which -pressed on him? To acquire health was, he thought, his first duty. He -left Stresa and travelled towards Sorrento.</p> - -<p>Genoa was on his road, and there he stopped. The place charmed him -at first sight. Its people were vigorous, frugal, and gay; the -temperature, in November, almost that of summer. In Genoa was combined -the double energy of mountain and of sea. Nietzsche liked those robust -palaces that stood athwart the little streets. Such monuments had been -raised by Corsair merchants to their own glory, by men whose instincts -were fettered by no scruples. And his visionary spirit evoked them, -for he stood in need of those Italians of a former time who were so -lucid, so grasping, and who had in them so little of the Christian; who -lied to others, but were frank towards themselves, without sophistry. -He needed them in order to repress that romantic reverie which was -not to be extinguished in him. He desired, like Rousseau, a return to -nature. But Rousseau's Europe was one thing, and Nietzsche's another. -Rousseau's offended against the sentiments of piety, against human -sympathy, against goodness; Nietzsche's was a sluggish Europe under the -domination of the herd, and it offended against other sentiments; very -different, too, was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> oppressed nature which he exalted and in which -he sought the cure and the refreshment of his soul.</p> - -<p>He wished to make a stay at Genoa. After some trouble he found a -perfect home: a garret, with a very good bed, at the top of a staircase -of a hundred and four steps, in a house which looked out on a path -so steep and stiff that no one passed that way, and that grass grew -between the paving stones—Salita delle Battistine, 8.</p> - -<p>He arranged his life in a manner as simple as his domicile, and thus -realised one of his many dreams. Often he used to say to his mother: -"How do the common people live? I would like to live like them." His -mother would laugh. "They eat potatoes and greasy meat; they drink -bad coffee and alcohol...." Nietzsche sighed: "Oh, those Germans!" In -his Genoese house, with its poor inmates, customs were different. His -neighbours lived soberly. He imitated them and ate sparely; his thought -was quicker and livelier. He bought a spirit lamp, and, under his -land-lady's teaching, learnt how to prepare his own risotto, and fry -his own artichokes. He was popular in the big house. When he suffered -from headaches, he had many visitors, full of concern for him. "I need -nothing," he would say, simply: "<i>Sono contento.</i>"</p> - -<p>In the evening, in order to rest his eyes, he would lie stretched out -on his bed, without light in the room. "It is poverty," opined the -neighbours; "the German professor is too poor to burn candles." He was -offered some: he was grateful, smiled, and explained the circumstances. -They called him <i>Il Santo, il piccolo Santo.</i> He knew it, and it amused -him. "I think," he wrote, "that many among us, with their abstemious, -regular habits, their kindliness and their clear sense, would, were -they transported into the semi-barbarism of the sixth to the tenth -centuries, be revered like Saints." He conceived and drew up a rule of -life:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<p>"An independence which offends no one; a mollified, veiled pride, a -pride which does not discharge itself upon others because it does not -envy their honours or their pleasures, and is able to stand the test -of mockery. A light sleep, a free and peaceful bearing, no alcohol, no -illustrious or princely friendships, neither women nor newspapers, no -honours, no society—except with superior minds; in default of them, -the simple people (one cannot dispense with them; to see them is to -contemplate a sane and powerful vegetation); the dishes which are most -easily prepared, and, if possible, prepared by oneself, and which do -not bring us into contact with the greedy and lip-smacking rabble."</p> - -<p>For Friedrich Nietzsche health was a fragile possession, and the -more precious in that it must be incessantly conquered, lost, and -reconquered. Every favourable day made him feel that surprise which -constitutes the happiness of convalescents.</p> - -<p>On jumping from his bed, he equipped himself, stuffed into his pouch a -bundle of notes, a book, some fruit and bread; and then started out on -the road. "As soon as the sun is risen," he wrote, "I go to a solitary -rock near the waves and lie out on it beneath my umbrella, motionless -as a lizard, with nothing before me but the sea and the pure sky." -There he would remain for a long time, till the very last hours of -the twilight. For these hours were kindly to those weak eyes of his, -that were so often deprived of light and so often blinded by it—those -menaced eyes, the least of whose joys was a delight.</p> - -<p>"Here is the sea," he wrote, "here we may forget the town. Though -its bells are still ringing the Angelus—that sad and foolish, yet -sweet sound at the parting of day and night—only another minute! Now -all is hushed! There lies the broad ocean, pale and glittering, but -it cannot speak. The sky is glistening in its eternal mute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> evening -glory, in red, yellow, green hues; it cannot speak either. The small -cliffs and crags, projecting into the sea—as though trying to find -the most lonely spot—not any of them can speak. This eternal muteness -which suddenly overcomes us is beautiful and awful; it makes the heart -swell...."<a name="FNanchor_4_8" id="FNanchor_4_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_8" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>How often has he celebrated this hour, when, as he says, the humblest -fisherman "rows with golden oars." Then he collected the fruits of -the day; he wrote the thoughts which had come to him, clothed in the -form and the music of their words. He continued the researches which -he had begun at Venice. What is human energy? What is the drift of its -desires? How are the disorders of its history, the quagmire of its -manners, to be explained? He now knows the answer, and it is this, that -the same cruel and ambitious force thrusts man against man, and the -ascetic against himself. Nietzsche had to analyse and to define this -force in order to direct it; this was the problem which he set himself, -and he was confident that he would one day resolve it. Willingly he -compared himself to the great navigators, to that Captain Cook who for -three months navigated the coral-reefs, fathom-line in hand. In this -year 1881, his hero was the Genoese, Christopher Columbus, who, when -no land had yet appeared, recognised on the waves meadow grasses which -had been carried into the open sea by some unknown river, the waters of -which were milky and still free from salt.</p> - -<p>"Whither do we wish to go?" he wrote. "Do we long to cross the sea? -Whither does this powerful desire urge us which we value above all our -other passions? Why this mad flight towards that place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> where every sun -has hitherto <i>sunk</i> and <i>perished?</i> Will they, perhaps, one day, relate -of us that we also steered westward, hoping to reach an unknown India, -but that it was our fate to suffer shipwreck on the Infinite? Or else, -my brothers, or else?"</p> - -<p>Nietzsche liked this lyrical page; he placed it at the end of his book -as a final hymn. "What other book," he wrote, "concludes with an Or -Else?"</p> - -<p>By the end of January he had finished his work. But he was not able -to re-copy his manuscript; his hand was too nervous, his eyesight too -weak. He sent it on to Peter Gast. On the 13th of March the copy was -ready, and Nietzsche announced it to the publisher.</p> - -<p>"Here is the manuscript, from which I find it hard to part.... Now, -hurry, hurry, hurry! I shall leave Genoa as soon as the book is out, -and till then I shall live on cinders. Be quick, hurry up the printer! -Can't he give you a written promise that by the end of April, at the -latest, I shall have my book in hand, ready, complete?... My dear Herr -Schmeitzner, let us all, for this once, do our best. The contents of my -book are so important! It is a matter involving our honour that it be -faulty in nothing, that it come into the world worthy and stainless. -I conjure you, do that for me; no advertising. I could tell you a -great deal more about it, but you will be able to understand it all by -yourself when you have read my book."</p> - -<p>The publisher read the manuscript, but understood it ill; he displayed -no enthusiasm. In April, Nietzsche, still at Genoa, was still waiting -for his proofs. He had hoped to surprise his friends by despatching an -unexpected piece of work, and had said nothing to anyone, Peter Gast -excepted. At last he renounced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> the pleasure of having a secret. "Good -news!" he wrote to his sister. "A new book, a big book, a decisive -book! I cannot think of it without a lively emotion...." In May, he -rejoined Peter Gast in a village of Venetia, Recoaro, at the foot of -the Alps. His impatience grew every day. The delays of his publisher -prevented him from clearing up the new thoughts which already pressed -hard on him.</p> - -<p><i>The Dawn of Day</i>—this was the title which he finally -selected—appeared at the most unfavourable time of the year, in July.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_5" id="Footnote_1_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_5"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Lit. torchlike.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_6" id="Footnote_2_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_6"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This is an evangelical reminiscence, thinks Peter Gast. -Scriptural suggestions are frequent in the language and thought of -Nietzsche.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_7" id="Footnote_3_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_7"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>The Dawn of Day,</i> cxiv. This book, published in June, -1881, gives very reliable autobiographical indications on the period -here studied.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_8" id="Footnote_4_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_8"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>The Dawn of Day,</i> p. 301. This passage is taken from Miss -Johanna Volz's translation. London: T. Fisher Unwin.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h5> - - -<h4>THE LABOUR OF ZARATHUSTRA</h4> - - -<h4>I</h4> - -<h5>The Conception of the Eternal Return</h5> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche regarded <i>The Dawn of Day</i> as the exercise of a -convalescent who amuses himself with desires and ideas, and finds in -each a malicious or a delightful pleasure. It had been a game which -must have an end. I must now choose from among these half-perceived -ideas, he thought, I must lay hold of one, express it in its full -force, and close my years of retreat and hesitation. "In times of -peace," he had written, "the man of warlike instinct turns against -himself." Hardly done with his combats, he sought a new occasion for -battle.</p> - -<p>He had remained, up to mid-July, in Venetia, on the lower slopes of -the Italian Alps. He had to seek a cooler refuge. He had not forgotten -those high Alpine valleys which had given him, two years earlier, in -his ill-health a respite and a rapid joy. He went up towards them and -installed himself in a rustic fashion in the Engadine, at Sils-Maria. -He had, for one franc a day, a room in a peasant house; a neighbouring -inn furnished him with his meals. Passers by were rare, and Nietzsche, -when he found himself in talkative humour, used to visit the curé -or the schoolmaster. These good people always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> remembered this very -singular German professor who was so learned, so modest, and so good.</p> - -<p>He was then reflecting on the problems of naturalistic philosophy. -Spencer's system had just come into vogue. Friedrich Nietzsche despised -this cosmogony which affected to supplant Christianity and yet remained -in submission to it. Spencer ignored Providence, yet believed in -progress. He preached the reality of a concert between the movements -of things and the aspirations of humanity. He preserved the Christian -harmonies in a God-less universe. Friedrich Nietzsche had been a pupil -at more virile schools; he heard Empedocles, Heraclitus, Spinoza, -Goethe, thinkers who with a calm regard could study Nature without -seeking in her some assent to their longings. He remained obedient to -these masters, and he felt growing and ripening in him a great and a -new idea.</p> - -<p>We can divine from his letters the emotion with which he was seized. He -needed to be alone, and energetically defended his solitude. Paul Rée, -who admired <i>The Dawn,</i> wished to go to him and tell him so. Friedrich -Nietzsche learnt this and was in despair.</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY GOOD LISBETH</span>," he wrote to his sister, "I cannot make up my mind -to telegraph to Rée not to come. Nevertheless, I must consider him an -enemy who comes to interrupt my summer's work, my work in the Engadine, -that is to say my duty itself, my 'one thing necessary.' A man here, in -the middle of all these thoughts which gush out from all sides within -me—it would be a terrible thing; and if I cannot defend my solitude -better, I leave Europe for many years, I swear it! I have no more time -to lose."</p> - -<p>Fräulein Nietzsche forewarned Paul Rée, who abandoned his project.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<p>At length he found it, the idea, the presentiment of which had agitated -him with such violence. One day, when he was going across the wood -of Sils-Maria as far as Silvaplana, he sat down not far from Surlei -at the foot of a pyramidal rock; at this moment and in this place -he conceived the Eternal Return. He thought: Time, whose duration -is infinite, must bring back, from period to period, an identical -disposition of things. This is necessary; therefore it is necessary -that all things return. In a number of days that is unforeseeable, -immense, yet limited, a man like to me in everything, myself in fact, -seated in the shade of this rock, will again find in this very place -this very idea. And this very idea will be rediscovered by this man not -once only, but an infinite number of times, for this movement which -brings things back is infinite. Therefore we must throw all hope aside -and think resolutely: no celestial world will receive men, no better -future will console them. We are the shadows of a blind and monotonous -nature, the prisoners of every moment. But beware! this redoubtable -idea which forbids hope ennobles and exalts every minute of our lives; -the moment is no longer a passing thing, if it come back eternally; -the least thing is an eternal monument endowed with infinite value, -and, if the word "divine" has any sense, divine. "Let everything return -ceaselessly," he wrote, "it is the extreme <i>rapprochement</i> of a world -of becoming with a world of being: summit of meditation."<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>The emotion of the discovery was so strong that he wept, and remained -for a long time bathed in tears. So his effort had not been in vain. -Without weakening before reality, without withdrawing from pessimism, -but, on the contrary, leading the pessimistic idea to its final -consequences, Nietzsche had discovered this doctrine of the Return, -which, by conferring eternity on the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> fugitive things, restores -in each of them the lyrical power, the religious value necessary to -the soul. In a few lines he formulated the idea, and dated it: "the -beginning of August, 1881, at Sils-Maria, 6,500 feet above the sea and -far more than that above all human things!"</p> - -<p>He lived for some weeks in a condition of rapture and of anguish: no -doubt the mystics knew similar emotions, and their vocabulary suits his -case. He experienced a divine pride; but simultaneously recoiled in -fear and trembling, like those prophets of Israel before God receiving -from Him the function of their mission. The unhappy man, who had been -so wounded by life, faced with an indescribable horror the perpetuity -of the Return. It was an insupportable expectation, a torment; but he -loved this torment, and he forced this idea of the Eternal Return on -himself as an ascetic does martyrdom. "Lux mea crux," he wrote in his -notes, "crux mea lux! Light my cross, cross my light!" His agitation, -which time did not appease, became extreme. He grew alarmed, for he was -not unaware of the danger which lay over his life.</p> - -<p>"On my horizon thoughts rise, and what thoughts!" he wrote to Peter -Gast on the 14th of August. "I did not suspect anything of this kind. -I say no more of it, I wish to maintain a resolute calm. Alas, my -friend, presentiments sometimes cross my mind. It seems to me that I -am leading a very dangerous life, for my machine is one of those which -may GO SMASH! The intensity of my sentiments makes me shudder and laugh -—twice already I have had to stay in my room, and for a ridiculous -reason; my eyes were inflamed, why? Because while I walked I had cried -too much; not sentimental tears, but tears of joy; and I sang and -said idiotic things, being full of a new idea which I must proffer to -men...."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he conceived a new task. All that he had hitherto done was but -an awkward experiment or research; the time was come when he should -erect the structure of his work. Of what work? He hesitated: his gifts -as an artist, as a critic, as a philosopher, seduced him in various -directions. Should he put his doctrine in the form of a system? No, it -was a symbol and must be surrounded with poetry and rhythm. Could he -not renew that forgotten form which was created by the thinkers of the -most ancient Greece? Lucretius had handed down the model. Friedrich -Nietzsche welcomed this idea; it would please him to translate his -conception of nature into poetic language, into musical and measured -prose. He sought, and his desire for a rhythmical language, for a -living and, as it were, palpable form, suggested a new thought to him: -could he not introduce at the centre of his work a human and prophetic -figure, a hero? A name occurred to him; Zarathustra, the Persian -apostle, the mystagogue of fire. A title, a subtitle, four lines -rapidly written, announced the poem:</p> - - -<p style="text-align: center;">MIDDAY AND ETERNITY</p> - -<p style="text-align: center;"><i>Sign of a New Life</i></p> - -<p>"Zarathustra, born on the borders of Lake Urumiyah, left his country -when thirty years old, went towards the province of Aria, and in ten -years of solitude composed the Zend-Avesta."</p> - -<p>Henceforward his walks and meditations were no longer solitary. -Friedrich Nietzsche never ceased to hear and gather the words of -Zarathustra. In three distiches of a soft and almost tender seduction -he tells how this companion entered into his life:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Sils-Maria</i></p> - -<p>I sat there waiting—waiting for nothing, Enjoying, beyond good and -evil, now The light, now the shade; there was only The day, the lake, -the noon, time without end. Then, my friend, suddenly one became -two—And Zarathustra passed by me.</p> - -<p>In September the weather suddenly became cold and snowy. Friedrich -Nietzsche had to leave the Engadine.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>The intemperate weather had tried him; he lost his exaltation, and a -long period of depression set in. He constantly thought of the Eternal -Return, but now, having lost courage, he only felt a horror of it. "I -have lived again through the days at Basle," he wrote to Peter Gast. -"Over my shoulder death looks at me." His complaints are brief; a word -is enough to let us divine the abysses. Thrice, during these weeks of -September and October, he was tempted to suicide. "Whence came this -temptation? It was not that he wished to avoid suffering; he was brave. -Did he then wish to prevent the ruin of his intellect? This second -hypothesis is perhaps the true one.</p> - -<p>He stopped at Genoa. The damp winds and the lowering skies of the -capricious autumn continued to try him. He bore impatiently with the -absence of light. A melancholy of another kind complicated his trouble: -<i>The Dawn of Day</i> had had no success. The critics had ignored the work, -his friends had read it with difficulty; Jacob Burckhardt had expressed -a polite but prudent judgment. "Certain parts of your book," he wrote, -"I read like an old man, with a feeling of vertigo." Erwin Rohde, the -dearest, the most esteemed, had not acknowledged the receipt of the -book. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote to him from Genoa on October 21st:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR OLD FRIEND</span>,—No doubt some embarrassment delays you. I pray you, -in all sincerity, not to write! There will be no change in our mutual -sentiments; I cannot bear to think that in sending a book to a friend I -exercise upon him a sort of pressure. What matters a book! What I have -still to do matters more—or why should I live? The moment is bitter, I -suffer much. Cordially your "<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">F. N.</span>"</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Erwin Rohde did not answer even this letter. How explain the want of -success of <i>The Dawn?</i> Doubtless it is a very old story, the constant, -the universal, the irremediable misadventure of the unrecognised -genius because he is a genius, a novelty, a surprise, and a scandal. -Nevertheless we may, perhaps, grasp some definite reasons. Nietzsche, -since he had withdrawn from the Wagnerian circle, had no more friends; -and a group of friends is the most indispensable intermediary between -a great mind which is trying its skill and the mass of the public. He -is alone before unknown readers, who are disconcerted by his incessant -variations. He hopes that the lively form of his work will capture -and conquer them. But even the form is unfavourable. No book has so -difficult an address as a collection of aphorisms and brief thoughts. -The reader must give all his attention to every page and decipher an -enigma; lassitude comes quickly. Besides, it is probable that a German -public, with little feeling for the art of prose, unskilful in grasping -its features, accustomed to slow and sustained effort, was ill-prepared -to understand this unforeseen work.</p> - -<p>November was fine; Friedrich Nietzsche recovered his spirits. "I lift -myself above my disasters," he wrote He wandered over the mountains of -the Genoese coast, he returned to the rocks on which had come to him -the prose of <i>The Dawn. </i> Such was the mildness of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> weather that he -could bathe in the sea. "I feel so rich, so proud," he wrote to Peter -Gast, "altogether <i>'principe Doria.</i> I miss only you, dear friend, you -and your music!"</p> - -<p>Since the representations of the <i>Nibelungen</i> at Bayreuth—that is, -for five years—Friedrich Nietzsche had deprived himself of music. -<i>Cave musicam!</i> he wrote. He feared that if he abandoned himself to -the delight in sound he would be recaptured by the magic of Wagnerian -art. But he was finally delivered from these fears. His friend Peter -Gast had played him, in June, at Recoaro, songs and choruses which he -had amused himself in composing on the epigrams of Goethe. Paul Rée -had said one day, "No modern musician would be capable of putting to -music such slight verses." Peter Gast had taken up the challenge and -won, thought Nietzsche, who was ravished by the vivacity of the rhythm. -"Persevere," he advised his friend; "work against Wagner the musician, -as I work against Wagner the philosopher. Let us try, Rée, you and -I, to free Germany. If you succeed in finding a music suited to the -universe of Goethe (it does not exist), you will have done a great -thing." This thought reappears in each of his letters. His friend is -at Venice, he is at Genoa, and he hopes that this winter Italy will -inspire in them both, the two uprooted Germans, a new metaphysic and a -new music.</p> - -<p>He took advantage of his improved health to go to the theatre. -He listened to the <i>Semiramis</i> of Rossini, and four times to the -<i>Juliette</i> of Bellini. One evening he was curious to hear a French -work, the author being unknown to him:</p> - -<p>"Hurrah! dear friend," he wrote to Peter Gast, "another happy -discovery, an opera of Georges Bizet (who is he, then?), <i>Carmen.</i> It -is like a story of Mérimée's, clever, powerful, sometimes touching. A -true<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> French talent which Wagner has not misguided, a frank disciple -of Berlioz.... I almost think that <i>Carmen</i> is the best opera which -exists. As long as we live it will remain in all the repertoires of -Europe."</p> - -<p>The discovery of <i>Carmen</i> was the event of his winter. Many times he -spoke of it, many times he returned to it; when he heard this frank and -impassioned music, he felt better armed against the romantic seductions -which were always powerful in his soul. "<i>Carmen</i> delivers me," he was -to write.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche again found the happiness which he had enjoyed -in the preceding year; a like happiness, but sustained by a graver -kind of emotion: the full midday of his thought rose after the dawn. -Towards the end of December he passed a crisis and surmounted it. A -sort of poem in prose commemorated this crisis. We will translate it -here. It is the consequence of his meditations, of those examinations -of conscience which he used to write down, as a young man, each Saint -Sylvester's Day:</p> - -<p>"<i>For the New Year.</i>—I still live, I still think: I must still live, -for I must still think. <i>Sum, ergo cogito: cogito, ergo sum.</i> This is -the day upon which every one is permitted to express his desire and -his dearest thought: I, too, shall then express the inner wish which I -form to-day, and say what thought I take to heart, this year, before -all other—what thought I have chosen as the reason, guarantee, and -sweetness of my life to come! I wish to try each day to see in all -things necessity as a beauty—thus shall I be one of those who make -things beautiful. <i>Amor fati,</i> let that be henceforward my love! I -do not wish to go to battle against the hideous. I do not wish to -accuse, I do not even wish to accuse the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> accusers. <i>To avert my -gaze,</i> let that be my sole negation. In a word, I wish to be, in every -circumstance, a Yea-Sayer!"</p> - -<p>The thirty days of January passed without a cloud appearing in the -sky. He was to dedicate to this fine month, as a sign of gratitude, -the fourth book of the <i>Gay Science,</i> which he entitled <i>Sanctus -Januarius;</i> an admirable book rich in critical thought, in intimate -refinements, and from the first to the last line dominated by a sacred -emotion—<i>Amor fati.</i></p> - -<p>In February Paul Rée, passing through Genoa, stayed some days with his -friend, who showed him his favourite walks and brought him to those -rocky creeks "where in some six hundred years, some thousand years," he -wrote gaily to Peter Gast, "they will raise a statue to the author of -<i>The Dawn"</i> Then Paul Rée went on to Rome, where Fräulein von Meysenbug -was waiting for him. He had a curiosity to penetrate into the Wagnerian -world there, which was greatly excited in expectation of <i>Parsifal;</i> -it was in July, at Bayreuth, that the Christian mystery was to be -presented. Friedrich Nietzsche did not wish to accompany Paul Rée, and -the approaching performance of the <i>Parsifal</i> only made his ardour -for work the more active. Had he not—he, too—a great work which he -must ripen? Had he not to write his anti-Christian mystery, his poem -of the Eternal Return? It was his constant thought. It procured him a -happiness, thanks to which he could recall with less torturing regret -the master of by-gone days. Richard Wagner seemed very far and very -near; very far as regards his ideas, but what are ideas worth to a -poet? Very near in sentiments, desires, lyrical emotion; and were -not these the essential things? All disaccord between poets is only -a question of shades, for they inhabit the same universe, they work -with a like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> heart to give a significance and a supreme value to the -movements of the human soul. Reading this page which Nietzsche then -wrote, it is easier to understand the condition of his mind:</p> - -<p>"<i>Stellar Friendship.</i>—We were friends, and we have become strangers -to each other. Ah, yes; but it is well so, and we wish to hide nothing, -to disguise nothing from one another; we have nothing to be ashamed -of. We are two ships, each with a bourne and a way. By chance we have -crossed paths; we have made holiday together—and then our two good -ships have so tranquilly reposed in the one port and under the same -sun, that it seemed as though they had both attained their bourne. But -the all-powerful force of our mission has driven us afresh towards -divers seas and suns—and perhaps we shall not meet, or recognise one -another again: the divers seas and suns will have transformed us! We -had to become strangers; a reason the more why we should mutually -respect ourselves! No doubt there exists a far off, invisible and -prodigious cycle which gives a common law to our little divagations: -let us uplift ourselves to this thought! But our life is too short, -our vision too feeble; we must content ourselves with this sublime -possibility. And if we must be enemies upon earth, in spite of all we -believe in our stellar friendship."</p> - -<p>What form did the poetical exposition of the Eternal Return then take -in his soul? We do not know. Nietzsche did not care to talk about his -work; he liked to complete it before making announcements. However, -he wished that his friends should know the new movement in which his -thought was engaged. He addressed to Fräulein von Meysenbug a letter in -which Wagner was treated without deference, then he added a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> mysterious -enough promise: "If I am not illusioned as to my future, it is by my -work that what is best in the work of Wagner will be continued—and -here, perhaps, is the comical side to the adventure."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>At the beginning of spring Friedrich Nietzsche, following out a -caprice, made a bargain with the captain of an Italian sailing -vessel bound for Messina and crossed the Mediterranean. The passage -was a terrible one, and he was sick to death. But his stay was at -first happy: he wrote verses, a pleasure which he had not known for -several years. They are impromptus and epigrams, perhaps inspired by -those Goethean sallies which Peter Gast had put to music. Nietzsche -then sought for a corner of nature and of humanity favourable to -the production of his great work: Sicily, "Curb of the world where -Happiness has her habitation," as old Homer teaches, struck him as -an ideal refuge, and, suddenly forgetting that he could not bear the -heat, he decided to stay in Messina for the whole summer. Some days of -sirocco, towards the end of April, prostrated him, and he prepared for -departure. It was in these circumstances that he received a message -from Fräulein von Meysenbug, who urged him very keenly to stop at -Rome. Rome was a natural stage on his journey, and he accepted. Why -was Fräulein von Meysenbug thus insistent? We know. This excellent -woman had never been resigned to the unhappiness of the friend whose -destiny she had vainly sought to sweeten. She knew the delicacy, the -tenderness of his heart, and often wished to find him a companion; had -he not written to her, "I tell you in confidence, what I need is a -good woman"? In the spring of this year she thought that she had found -her.<a name="FNanchor_2_10" id="FNanchor_2_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_10" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>This accounted for her letter. It was Fräulein von Meysenbug's habit to -do good, and her taste; but perhaps she sometimes forgot that goodness -is a difficult art in which the results of defeat are cruel.</p> - -<p>The girl whom Fräulein von Meysenbug had met was called Lou Salomé. -She was scarcely twenty years old; she was a Russian and admirable as -regards her intelligence and intellectual ardour; her beauty was not -perfect, but the more exquisite for its imperfections, and she was -fascinating in the extreme. Sometimes it happens that there arises, -in Paris, in Florence, in Rome, some excited young lady, a native of -Philadelphia, of Bucharest, or of Kief, who comes with a barbarous -impatience to be initiated into culture and to conquer a hearth in our -old capital. The lady in question was of rare quality assuredly; her -mother followed her across Europe, carrying the cloaks and the shawls.</p> - -<p>Fräulein von Meysenbug conceived an affection for her. She gave her -Nietzsche's works; Lou Salomé read them and seemed to understand. -She talked to her at great length of this extraordinary man who had -sacrificed friendship with Wagner for the maintenance of his liberty: -He is a very rugged philosopher, she said, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> he is the most -sensitive, the most affectionate friend, and, for those who know him, -the thought of his solitary life is a source of sadness. Miss Salomé -displayed a great deal of enthusiasm and longing; she declared that she -felt vowed to a spiritual share in such a life, and that she wished to -make Nietzsche's acquaintance. In concert with Paul Rée, who, it seems, -had known her for a longer time, and also appreciated her, Fräulein von -Meysenbug wrote to Friedrich Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>He arrived, he heard the praises of Miss Lou sung; she was a woman -of elevated feeling, shrewd and brave; intransigent in research and -in affirmation; a heroine in the manner of her childhood; it was the -promise of a great life. He agreed to see her. One morning, at St. -Peter's, she was presented to him and conquered him at once. He had -forgotten, during his long months of meditation, the pleasure of being -listened to and of talking. "The young Russian" (it is thus that he -calls her in his letters) listened deliciously. She spoke little, but -her calm look, her assured and gentle movements, her least words, left -no doubt as to the quickness of her mind and to the presence of a soul. -Very quickly, perhaps at first sight, Nietzsche liked her. "There's a -soul," he said to Fräulein von Meysenbug, "which has made a little body -for itself with a breath."<a name="FNanchor_3_11" id="FNanchor_3_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_11" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Miss Salomé did not let herself be thus -enticed. Nevertheless, she felt the singular quality of the man who -talked to her; she had long conversations with him, and the violence of -his thought troubled her even in her sleep. The adventure—it was in -fact a drama—commenced at once.</p> - -<p>A few days after this first interview, Miss Salomé and her mother left -Rome. The two philosophers, Nietzsche and Rée, went with her, both of -them enthusiasts for the young girl. Nietzsche said to Rée:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There's an admirable woman, marry her." "No," answered Rée; "I am a -pessimist, and the idea of propagating human life is odious to me. -Marry her yourself; she is the companion that you want...." Nietzsche -dismissed this idea. Perhaps he said to his friend, as he had said -to his sister: "I marry! Never, I would have to be a bar somewhere -or other." Miss Salomé's mother examined these two men who were -so attentive to her child; Friedrich Nietzsche perplexed her; she -preferred Paul Rée.</p> - -<p>The two friends and the two philosophers stopped at Lucerne. Friedrich -Nietzsche wished to show his new friend that house at Triebschen where -he had known Richard Wagner. Who was not then thinking of the master? -He brought her as far as the poplars whose high foliage enclosed the -gardens. He recounted to her the unforgettable days, the gaieties, -the magnificent angers of the great man. Seated by the border of the -lake, he talked in a low, contained voice, and turned his face a -little away, for it was troubled by the memory of those joys of which -he had deprived himself. Suddenly he grew silent, and the young girl, -observing him, saw that he wept.</p> - -<p>He confessed all his life to her; his childhood, the pastor's house, -the mysterious grandeur of the father who had been so quickly taken -away; the pious years, the first doubts, and the horror of this world -without a God in which one must resolve to live; the discovery of -Schopenhauer and of Wagner, the religious feeling which they had -inspired in him and which had consoled him for the loss of his faith.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said he (Miss Salomé reports these words), "my adventures began -in this manner. They are not ended. Where will they lead me? Whither -shall I adventure again? Should I not come back to the faith? to some -new belief?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<p>He added gravely: "In any case a return to the past is more likely than -immobility."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche had not yet avowed his love; but he felt its force -and no longer resisted. Only he feared to declare himself. He begged -Paul Rée to speak in his name, and withdrew.</p> - -<p>On the 8th of May, settled for some days in Basle, he saw the -Overbecks and confided in them with a strange exaltation. A woman has -come into his life; it is a happiness for him; it will benefit his -thought, which will henceforward be livelier, richer in its shades and -emotion. Assuredly he would prefer not to marry Miss Lou, he disdains -all fleshly ties; but perhaps he ought to give her his name for her -protection against scandalmongers, and from this spiritual union would -be born a spiritual son: the prophet Zarathustra. He is poor; this is a -vexation, an obstacle. But could he not sell all his future work in a -lump to some publisher for a considerable sum? He thought of doing so. -These out-bursts did not fail to trouble the Overbecks, who augured ill -of a liaison so bizarre and of an enthusiasm so ready.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche at last received Lou Salomé's reply: she did not -wish to marry. An unhappy love affair, which had just crossed her life, -left her, she said, without strength to conceive and nourish a new -affection. She therefore refused Nietzsche's offer. But she was able to -sweeten the terms of this refusal: the only thing of which she could -dispose, her friendship, her spiritual affection, she offered.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche returned at once to Lucerne. He saw Lou Salomé -and pressed her to give a more favourable reply; but the young girl -repeated her refusal and her offer. She was to be present in July at -the Bayreuth festivals, from which Nietzsche wished to abstain. She -promised to rejoin him when they were over and to stay for some weeks -at his side. She would then listen to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> teaching, she would confront -the last thought of the master with that of the liberated disciple. -Nietzsche had finally to accept these conditions, these limits which -the young girl placed on their friendship. He advised her to read -one of his books, <i>Schopenhauer as Educator.</i> He was always glad to -acknowledge this work of his youth, this hymn to the bravery of a -thinker and to voluntary solitude. "Read it," he said to her, "and you -will be ready to hear me."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche left Basle and re-entered Germany, desirous of -becoming reconciled to his country. He was, as we know, accustomed to -such absorbing and unexpected desires. A Swiss, whom he had met at -Messina, had praised the beauty of Grunewald, near Berlin; he wished to -settle there, and wrote to Peter Gast, to whom, six weeks earlier, he -had suggested as a summer residence Messina.</p> - -<p>He went to visit this Grunewald, which pleased him well enough; but he -saw, on the same occasion, Berlin and a few Berliners, who displeased -him extremely. He perceived that his last books had not been read, and -that his thought was ignored. He was only known as the friend of Paul -Rée, and no doubt his disciple. This he did not like. He went without -delay to spend some weeks in Naumburg, where he dictated the manuscript -of his coming book, <i>La Gaya Scienza</i><a name="FNanchor_4_12" id="FNanchor_4_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_12" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>. To his own people, it seems, -to his mother and to his sister, he spoke discreetly of the new friend. -His gaiety amazed them: they did not discern its cause. They did not -know that their strange Friedrich had in his heart a sentiment, a hope -of happiness, which Lou Salomé had been far from discouraging.</p> - -<p>The representation of <i>Parsifal</i> was fixed for the 27th July. Friedrich -Nietzsche went to stay in a village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> of the Thuringian forests, -Tautenburg, not far from Bayreuth, where all his friends were to -foregather: the Overbecks, the Seydlitzs, Gersdorff, Fräulein von -Meysenbug, Lou Salomé, Lisbeth Nietzsche. He alone was absent from -the rendezvous. At this moment a word from the master would perhaps -have sufficed to bring him back; perhaps he waited for and hoped -for this word. Fräulein von Meysenbug wished to make an attempt at -reconciliation: she dared to name Nietzsche in Wagner's presence. -Wagner told her to be silent and went out of the room banging the door.</p> - -<p>So Friedrich Nietzsche, who no doubt never knew of this overture, -remained in those forests in which he had spent such hard days in -1876. How miserable he had then been and now how rich he was! He had -repressed his doubts; a great thought animated his mind, a great -affection his heart. Lou Salomé had just dedicated to him, as a sign of -spiritual sympathy, a beautiful poem.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">TO SORROW.</span><br /> -<br /> -<i>Wer kann dich fliehn, den du ergriffen hast,</i><br /> -<i>Wenn du die ernsten Bliche auf ihn richtest?</i><br /> -<i>Ich will nicht flüchten, wenn du mich erfasst,</i><br /> -<i>Ich glaube nimmer, dass du nur vernichtest!</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>Ich weiss, durch jedes Erden—Dasein muss du gehn,</i><br /> -<i>Und nichts bleibt unberührt von dir auf Erden:</i><br /> -<i>Das Leben ohne dich—es wäre schön,</i><br /> -<i>Und doch—auch, du bist werth, gelebt zu werden.</i><a name="FNanchor_5_13" id="FNanchor_5_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_13" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /> -</p> - -<p>Peter Gast, having read these verses, thought they were Nietzsche's, -who rejoiced over his error.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No," he wrote to him, "this poetry is not by my hand. It is one of the -things which exercise upon me a tyrannical power, I have never been -able to read it without tears; it has the accent of a voice which I -might have waited for, expected since my childhood. My friend Lou, of -whom you have not yet heard, has written it. Lou is the daughter of a -Russian general, she is twenty years old; her mind is as piercing as an -eagle's vision, she has the courage of a lion, and yet she is a very -feminine child, who, perhaps, will hardly live...."</p> - -<p>He re-read his manuscript for the last time and sent it to the printer. -He hesitated a little at the moment of publishing this new collection -of aphorisms. His friends, as he knew, would find fault with these -too numerous volumes, these too brief essays, these scarcely formed -sketches. He listened to them, heard what they had to say, answered -them with an apparent good will. No doubt his modesty was feigned; he -could not bring himself to believe that his essays, short though they -were, his sketches, which were so weak in form, were not worth being -read.</p> - -<p>He thought much of the Bayreuth festivals, but he dissembled or only -half avowed his regrets. "I am well content that I cannot go," he wrote -to Lou Salomé. "And, nevertheless, if I could be at your side, in good -humour to talk; if I could say in your ear this, that, well, I could -endure the music of the <i>Parsifal</i> (otherwise I could not)."</p> - -<p><i>Parsifal</i> triumphed. Nietzsche mockingly welcomed the news. "Long live -Cagliostro!" he wrote to Peter Gast. "The old enchanter has again had a -prodigious success; the old gentlemen sobbed."</p> - -<p>The "young Russian" came to rejoin him as soon as the festivals were -over; Lisbeth Nietzsche accompanied her. The two ladies installed -themselves in the hotel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> where Friedrich Nietzsche awaited them; then -he undertook to initiate his friend.</p> - -<p>She had heard the Christian mystery at Bayreuth, the history of human -sorrow traversed like an ordeal and consoled at last by beatitude. -Friedrich Nietzsche taught her a more tragic mystery: sorrow is our -life and our destiny itself; let us not hope to traverse it; let us -accept it more entirely than the Christians ever did! Let us espouse -it; let us love it with an active love; let us be, like it, ardent and -pitiless; hard to others as to ourselves; cruel, let us accept it; -brutal, let us accept it. To lessen it is to be cowardly; and let us -meditate on the symbol of the Eternal Return to practise our courage. -"Unforgettable for me are those hours in which he revealed to me his -thoughts," wrote Miss Salomé. "He confided them to me, as though they -were a mystery unspeakably hard to tell; he only spoke of them in a low -voice, with every appearance of the most profound horror. And truly -life had been for him such bitter suffering that he suffered from -the Eternal Return as from an atrocious certainty." That Miss Salomé -listened to these confessions with great intelligence and real emotion, -the pages which she afterwards wrote assure us.</p> - -<p>She conceived a brief hymn which she dedicated to Friedrich Nietzsche:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"As friend loves friend,<br /> -So love I thee, life surprising!<br /> -Do I weep or joy in thee,<br /> -Givest thou me joy or suffering,<br /> -I love thee with thy joy and pain.<br /> -And if thou must destroy me,<br /> -I shall suffer, leaving thee.<br /> -As the friend who teareth himself from the arms of the friend,<br /> -I caress thee with my whole strength:<br /> -Hast thou no other joy for me?<br /> -So be it, I have still—thy suffering."<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche, delighted with the gift, wished to reply to it -by another gift. For eight years he had forbidden himself musical -composition, which enervated and exhausted him. He undertook to compose -a sorrowful dithyramb on the verses of Miss Salomé. This work was -too moving and caused him great pain: neuralgia, crises of doubt, -barrenness and satiety. He had to take to his bed. Even from his room -he addressed short notes to Lou Salomé. "In bed, terrible attack. <i>I -scorn life</i>."</p> - -<p>But these weeks at Tautenburg had their secret history of which we know -little. Lou Salomé, writes Fräulein Nietzsche, was never the sincere -friend of her brother; he roused her curiosity, but her passion, -her enthusiasm, were only feigned, and she was often wearied by his -terrible agitation. She wrote to Paul Rée, from whom Fräulein Nietzsche -was surprised to receive a very singular message: "Your brother," he -said, "tires our friend; shorten, if it be possible, the meeting."</p> - -<p>We are inclined to think that Fräulein Nietzsche was jealous of this -initiation which she had not received, jealous, too, of this young -Slav, whose charm was tinged with mystery, and that we must take what -she has to say with caution.</p> - -<p>No doubt, Nietzsche alarmed Lou Salomé by the violence of his passions -and by the loftiness of his demands. She had not foreseen, in offering -to be his friend, the crises of a friendship ruder than a stormy love. -He demanded an absolute assent to each of his thoughts. The young girl -refused such assent: may the intellect, like the heart, be given? -Nietzsche could not brook her proud reserve, and reproached her, as -though it were a fault, for the independence which she wished to -preserve. A letter to Peter Gast gives us a glimpse into these disputes.</p> - -<p>"Lou remains another week with me," he wrote, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> the 20th of August, -from Tautenburg. "She is <i>the most intelligent of all women.</i> Every -five days a little tragical scene arises between us. All that I have -written to you about her is absurd, and not less absurd, no doubt, than -what I now write to you."</p> - -<p>This somewhat cautious and reticent phrasing does not suggest that the -heart had escaped its captivity. Lou Salomé left Tautenburg; Friedrich -Nietzsche continued to write letters to her, many of which are known -to us. He confided his work and projects to Lou Salomé: he wished to -go to Paris or Vienna to study the physical sciences and deepen his -theory of the Eternal Return; for it was not enough that it should be -fascinating and beautiful, Nietzsche wished that it should be true. -Thus we saw him, and always will see him, hampered by his critical -spirit when he pursues a lyrical inspiration; hampered by his lyrical -genius when he pursues a critical analysis. He related to her the happy -success of the <i>Hymn to Life</i> which her verses had inspired, and which -he was submitting to the judgment of his musical friends. An orchestral -conductor gave him hope of a hearing: ready for hope as he was, he -communicated the news. "By this little path," he writes, "we can reach -posterity <i>together</i>—all other paths remaining open." On September -16th he wrote from Leipsic to Peter Gast. "Latest news: on the 2nd of -October Lou comes here; two months later we leave for Paris; and we -shall stay there, perhaps for years. Such are my projects."</p> - -<p>His mother and sister blamed him; he knew it, and their hostility did -not displease him: "All the virtues of Naumburg are against me," he -wrote, "it is well that it is so ..."</p> - -<p>Two months later, the friendship was broken. Perhaps we may perceive -what had happened. Lou Salomé came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> to find Nietzsche at Leipsic, as -she had promised; but Paul Rée accompanied her. No doubt she wished -Nietzsche to understand once and for all the nature of a friendship -which was always open to him: free, not slavish; sympathy, not -intellectual devotion. Had she well weighed the difficulties of such an -enterprise, the dangers of such an attempt? These two men were in love -with her. What was her attitude between them? May she not have yielded, -when she tried to keep them both by her, to some instinct, perhaps an -unconscious one, of intellectual curiosity, of conquest and feminine -domination? Who can say, who will ever know?</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche became melancholy and suspicious. One day he -imagined that his companions, talking together under their breath, were -laughing at him. A piece of gossip reached him, and upset his mind. -The story, puerile though it be, must be told. Rée, Nietzsche, and Lou -Salomé had been photographed together. Lou Salomé and Rée had said to -Nietzsche: "Get into this child's cart: we will hold the shafts; it -will be a symbol of our union." Nietzsche had answered: "I refuse; Miss -Lou will be in the cart; we will hold the shafts, Paul Rée and I." This -Miss Lou did. And she (according to the story repeated to him) sent the -photograph to numerous friends, as a symbol of her supremacy.</p> - -<p>A more cruel thought soon began to torture Friedrich Nietzsche: Lou -and Rée are in agreement against me, he thought; their agreement -condemns them, they love one another and are deceiving me. Then all -became poor and vile around him. A miserable strife terminated the -spiritual adventure of which he had dreamed. He lost his strange and -seductive disciple; he lost the best and most intelligent friend of his -last eight years. Finally, affected and impaired by these humiliating -conditions, he himself did a wrong to friendship and denounced Rée to -Lou.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> - -<p>"He has a marvellous mind," he said, "but it is feeble and aimless. -His education is the cause of the trouble: every man should have been -brought up in some sort for a soldier. And every woman, in some sort, -for a soldier's wife."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche had neither the experience nor the necessary resolution to -decide an infinitely painful situation. His sister, who detested Miss -Salomé, encouraged his suspicions and his rancours. She intervened in -a brutal manner, and, it seems, without authorisation, wrote the young -girl a letter which determined the rupture. Miss Salomé was angry. -We have the rough draft of the last letter which Friedrich Nietzsche -addressed to her; it throws little light on the detail of these -difficulties.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"But, Lou, what letters yours are! A little angry schoolgirl writes in -this way. What have I got to do with these bickerings? Understand me: I -wish you to rise in my opinion; not to sink again.</p> - -<p>"I only reproach you for this: you ought to have sooner given an -account of what I expected from you. At Lucerne I gave you my essay on -Schopenhauer—I told you that my views were essentially there, and that -I believed that they would also be yours. Then you should have read -and said: No (in such matters I hate all <i>superficiality</i>). You would -have spared me much! Your poem, 'Sorrow,' written by you, is a profound -counter-truth.</p> - -<p>"I believe that no one thinks more good things of you than I do, or -more bad. Do not defend yourself: I have already defended you, to -myself and to others, better than you could do it. Creatures like you -are only bearable to others when they have a <i>lofty object</i>.</p> - -<p>"How poor you are in veneration, in gratitude, in piety, in courtesy, -in admiration, in delicacy—I do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> speak of higher things. How would -you answer if I asked you: Are you brave? Are you incapable of treason?</p> - -<p>"Do you not then feel that when a man like myself approaches you, he -needs to constrain himself very greatly? You have had to do with one of -the most for-bearing and benevolent of men possible: but against petty -egoism and little weaknesses, my argument, know it well, is <i>disgust.</i> -No one is so easily conquered by disgust as I. I have not deceived -myself again on any point whatsoever; I saw in you that holy egoism -which forces us to serve what is highest in us. I do not know by what -sorcery's aid you have exchanged it for its contrary, the egoism of the -cat, which only desires life.</p> - -<p>"Farewell, dear Lou, I shall not see you again. Protect your soul from -like deeds, and succeed better with others in regard to things that, so -far as I am concerned, are irreparable.</p> - -<p>"I have not read your letter to the end, but I have read too much of -it. Your,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 70%; font-size: 0.8em;">"F. N."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche left Leipsic.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This formula is given in the <i>Wille zur Macht,</i> paragraph -286.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_10" id="Footnote_2_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_10"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This intimate history has never been known except to a -few people, who are now, for the most part, out of our ken. Two women -survive: one, Frau Förster-Nietzsche, has published some accounts -which one would wish were more lucid and tranquil; the other, Miss -Salomé, has written a book on Friedrich Nietzsche in which some facts -are indicated and some letters cited; she has refused to enter into -polemics on a subject which, as she considers, concerns herself alone. -Oral traditions are numerous and contradictory. Some, rife in Roman -society, where the adventure took place, are less favourable to Miss -Salomé; she appears as a sort of Marie Bashkirtseff, an intellectual -adventuress who was somewhat too enterprising. Others, rife in Germany -among Miss Salomé's friends, are very different. We have heard all -these traditions. The first have influenced the account which we have -given in the <i>Cahiers de la quinzaine,</i> the second volume of the tenth -series, pp. 24 <i>et seq.</i>; the second, which we learned later, we now -prefer. But all hope of certainty must be adjourned.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_11" id="Footnote_3_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_11"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> "Da ist eine Seele welche sich mit einen Hauch eine -Körperchen geschaffen hat."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_12" id="Footnote_4_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_12"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The <i>y</i> in the word <i>Gaya</i> does not seem to be Italian. We -follow Nietzsche's orthography.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_13" id="Footnote_5_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_13"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> "Who that hath once been seized by thee can fly, if he -hath felt thy grave look turned on him? I shall not save myself, if -thou takest me, I shall never believe thou dost naught but destroy. -Yea, thou must visit all that liveth upon earth, nothing upon earth can -evade thy grip: life without thee—it were beautiful, yet—thou too art -worthy to be lived."</p></div> - - -<hr /> -<h4>II</h4> - - -<h5>Thus Spake Zarathustra</h5> - - -<p>His departure was prompt, like a flight. He passed through Basle and -stopped with his friends the Overbecks, who listened to his plaint. -He had awakened from his last dream; everyone had betrayed him: Lou, -Rée, feeble and perfidious; Lisbeth, his sister, who had acted grossly. -Of what betrayal did he complain, and of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> act? He did not say, -and continued his bitter complaints. The Overbecks wished him to stay -with them for some days. He escaped them; he wished to work, and -surmount alone the sadness of having been deceived, the humiliation of -having deceived himself. Perhaps he also wished to put to profit that -condition of paroxysm and the lyrical <i>sursum</i> whither his despair had -carried him. He left. "To-day," said he to his friends, "I enter into a -complete solitude."</p> - -<p>He left, and stopped in the first instance at Genoa. "Cold, sick. I -suffer," he wrote briefly to Peter Gast. He left this town, where -he was importuned perhaps by memories of a happier time, and moved -away along the coast. At the time of which we speak, Nervi, Santa -Margherita, Rapallo, Zoagli, were places unknown to the tourist, market -towns inhabited by fishermen who, each evening, drew in their barques -to the recesses of the coves and sang as they mended their nets. -Friedrich Nietzsche discovered these magnificent spots, and chose, to -humiliate his misery there, the most magnificent of them, Rapallo. He -relates, in simple language, the circumstances of his sojourn:</p> - -<p>"I spent my winter, 1882 to 1883, in the charming and quiet bay of -Rapallo that is hollowed out by the Mediterranean not far from Genoa, -between the promontory of Portofino and Chiavari. My health was not of -the best; the winter was cold, rainy; a little inn,<a name="FNanchor_6_14" id="FNanchor_6_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_14" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> situated at the -very edge of the sea, so near it that the noise of the waves prevented -me sleeping at night, offered me a shelter very unsatisfactory from -all points of view. Nevertheless—and it is an instance of my maxim -that all that is decisive comes 'nevertheless '—it was during this -winter and in this discomfort that my noble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> Zarathustra was born. In -the morning I would climb towards the south by the magnificent mountain -road, towards Zoagli, among the pines and dominating the immense sea; -in the evening (according as my health permitted it) I would go round -the bay of Santa Margherita as far as Portofino.... On these two -roads came to me all the first part of Zarathustra (<i>fiel mir ein</i>); -and more, Zarathustra himself, as type; more exactly he fell upon me -(<i>überfiel mich</i>)...."</p> - -<p>In ten weeks he conceived and completed his poem. It is a new work and, -if one affects to follow the genesis of his thought, a surprising one. -No doubt, he meditated a lyrical work, a sacred book. But the essential -doctrine of this work was to be given by the idea of the Eternal -Return. Now, in the first part of Zarathustra, the idea of the Eternal -Return does not appear. Nietzsche follows a different and opposing -idea, the idea of the Superman, the symbol of a real progress which -modifies things, the promise of a possible escape beyond chance and -fatality.</p> - -<p>Zarathustra announces the Superman, he is the prophet of good tidings. -He has discovered in his solitude a promise of happiness, he bears this -promise; his strength is sweet and benevolent, he predicts a great -future as the reward of a great work. Friedrich Nietzsche, in other -times, will put a more bitter speech into his mouth. If one reads -this first part, and takes care not to confound it with those which -immediately follow, one will feel the sanctity, the frequent suavity of -the accent.</p> - -<p>Why this abandonment of the Eternal Return? Nietzsche does not write -a word which throws light upon this mystery. Miss Lou Salomé tells -us that at Leipsic, during his short studies, he had realised the -impossibility of founding his hypothesis in reason. But this did not -diminish the lyrical value of which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> knew how to take advantage -a year later; and this cannot explain, in any case, the appearance -of a contrary idea. What are we to think? Perhaps his stoicism was -vanquished by the betrayal of his two friends. "<i>In spite of all,</i>" he -wrote on December 3rd to Peter Gast, "I would not like to live these -latter months over again." We know that he never ceased to experience -in himself the efficacy of his thoughts. Incapable of enduring the -cruel symbol, he did not think that he could sincerely offer it to men, -and he invented a new symbol, Uebermensch, the Superman. "I do not -desire a recommencement," he writes in his notes (<i>ich will das leben -nicht wieder).</i> "How was I able to endure the idea? In creating, in -fixing my view on the Superman, who says <i>yea</i> to life, I have myself -tried to say <i>Yea</i>—alas!"</p> - -<p>To the cry of his youth: <i>Ist Veredlung möglich?</i> (Is the ennobling -of man possible?) Friedrich Nietzsche desires to reply, and to reply -<i>Yes.</i> He wishes to believe in the Superman, and succeeds in doing -so. He can grasp this hope; it suits the design of his work. What -does he propose to himself? Among all the inclinations which urge -him, this one is strong: to answer the <i>Parsifal,</i> to oppose work to -work. Richard Wagner desired to depict humanity drawn from its languor -by the Eucharistie mystery, the troubled blood of men renovated by -the ever poured out blood of Christ. Friedrich Nietzsche wishes to -depict humanity saved from languor by the glorification of its own -essence, by the virtues of a chosen and willing few which purify and -renew its blood. Is this all his desire? Surely not. <i>Thus Spake -Zarathustra</i> is more than an answer to the <i>Parsifal.</i> The origins of -Nietzsche's thoughts are always grave and distant. What is his last -wish? He desires to guide and direct the activity of men; he wishes to -create their morals, assign to the humble their tasks, to the strong -their duties and their commandments, and to raise them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> all towards a -sublime destiny. As a child, as a youth, as a young man, he had this -aspiration; at thirty-eight years of age, at this instant of crisis and -of decision, he finds it again and desires to act. The Eternal Return -no longer satisfies him: he cannot consent to live imprisoned in a -blind nature. The idea of the Superman on the contrary captivates him: -it is a principle of action, a hope of salvation.</p> - -<p>What is the import of this idea? Is it a reality or a symbol? It is -impossible to say. Nietzsche's mind is rapid and always oscillating. -The vehemence of the inspiration which carries him along leaves -him neither leisure nor strength to define. He hardly succeeds in -understanding the ideas which agitate him, and interprets them himself -in divers ways. At times, the Superman appears to him as a very serious -reality. But more often, it seems, he neglects or disdains all literal -belief, and his idea is no more than a lyrical phantasy with which he -trifles for the sake of animating base humanity. It is an illusion, -a useful and beneficent illusion, he would say, were he still a -Wagnerian, dared he to re-adopt the vocabulary of his thirtieth year. -Then he had liked to repeat the maxim from Schiller: <i>Dare to dream -and to lie.</i> We may believe that the Superman is chiefly the dream and -falsehood of a lyrical poet. Every species has its limits which it -cannot transgress. Nietzsche knows this and writes it.</p> - -<p>It was a painful labour. Friedrich Nietzsche, ill-disposed to conceive -a hope, had frequent revolts against the task which he imposed on -himself. Every morning on awakening from a sleep which chloral had -rendered sweet, he rediscovered life with frightful bitterness. -Conquered by melancholy and rancour, he wrote pages which he had at -once to re-read attentively, to correct or erase. He dreaded these bad -hours in which anger, seizing him like a vertigo, obscured his best -thoughts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> Then he would evoke his hero, Zarathustra, always noble, -always serene, and seek from him some encouragement. Many a passage of -his poem is the expression of this agony. Zarathustra speaks to him:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Yea: I know thy danger. But by my love and hope,<br /> -I conjure thee: reject not thy love and thy hope.<br /> -<br /> -"The noble one is always in danger of becoming an<br /> -insolent, a sneering one and a destroyer. Alas, I have<br /> -known noble ones who lost their highest hope. Then<br /> -they slandered all high hopes.<br /> -<br /> -"By my love and my hope I conjure thee; do not cast<br /> -away the hero in thy soul! believe in the holiness of thy<br /> -highest hope."<br /> -</p> - -<p>The struggle was always perceptible; nevertheless Friedrich Nietzsche -advanced his work. Every day he had to learn wisdom anew, and to -moderate, crush, or deceive his desires. He succeeded in this rude -exercise and managed to bring back his soul into a calm and fecund -condition. He completed a poem which was but the opening of a vaster -poem. Zarathustra, returning towards the mountains, abandons the world -of men. Twice again, before he dictates the tables of his law, he is -to descend to it. But what he says suffices to give us a glimpse of -the essential forms of a humanity obedient to its élite. It consists -of three castes: at the bottom, the popular caste, allowed to retain -its humble beliefs; above, the caste of the chiefs, the organisers and -warriors; above the chiefs themselves, the sacred caste, the poets who -create the illusions and dictate the values. One recalls that essay by -Richard Wagner on art, religion, and politics, formerly so much admired -by Nietzsche: in it a similar hierarchy was proposed.</p> - -<p>In its ensemble the work is serene. It is Friedrich Nietzsche's finest -victory. He has repressed his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> melancholy; he exalts force, not -brutality; expansion, not aggression. In the last days of February, -1882, he wrote these final pages, which are perhaps the most beautiful -and the most religious ever inspired by naturalistic thought.</p> - -<p>"My brethren, remain faithful to the earth, with all the force of your -love! Let your great love and your knowledge be in accord with the -meaning of the earth. I pray you and conjure you.</p> - -<p>"Let not your virtue fly far from terrestrial things, and beat its -wings against the eternal walls! Alas! there is always so much virtue -gone astray!</p> - -<p>"Like myself, bring back towards the earth the virtue which goes -astray—yea, towards the flesh and towards life; that it may give a -meaning to the earth, a human meaning...."</p> - -<p>Whilst he completed the composition of this hymn on the Genoese -coast, Richard Wagner died in Venice. Nietzsche learnt the news -with a grave emotion, and recognised a sort of providential accord -in the coincidence of events. The poet of <i>Siegfried</i> was dead; so -be it! humanity would not be for a moment deprived of poetry, since -Zarathustra had already spoken.</p> - -<p>For more than six years he had given no sign of life to Cosima Wagner; -now he had to tell her that he had forgotten nothing of past days and -that he shared her sorrows. "You will approve of me in this, I am sure" -he wrote to Fräulein von Meysenbug.<a name="FNanchor_7_15" id="FNanchor_7_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_15" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<hr /> - -<p>On the 14th of February he wrote to Schmeitzner, the publisher:</p> - -<p>"To-day I have some news for you: I have just taken a decisive step—I -mean, one profitable to you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> It concerns a little work, scarcely -100 pages long, entitled: <i>Thus Spake Zarathustra,</i> a book for all -and none. It is a poem or it is a Fifth Gospel, or something which -has no name; by far the most serious, and also the most happy, of my -productions and one that is open to all."</p> - -<p>He wrote to Peter Gast and to Fräulein von Meysenbug: "This year," said -he, "no society. I shall go straight from Genoa to Sils!" Thus did -Zarathustra, who left the great city and returned to the mountains. But -Friedrich Nietzsche is not Zarathustra; he is feeble, solitude exalts -and frightens him. Some weeks passed. Schmeitzner, the publisher, -was slow: Nietzsche grew impatient and modified his projects for the -summer; he wished to hear the sound of human speech. His sister, at -Rome with Fräulein von Meysenbug, guessed that he was accessible and -weary, and seized this opportunity of a reconciliation. He did not -defend himself and promised to come.</p> - -<p>Here he was at Rome. His old friend immediately introduced him into a -brilliant society. Lenbach was there, and also that Countess Dönhoff, -to-day Princess von Buelow, an amiable woman and a great musician. -Friedrich Nietzsche felt with vexation how different he was from these -happy talkers, how he belonged to another world, how they misunderstood -him. A curious, a singular man, they think; a very eccentric man. A -great mind? No one ventured to pass this rash judgment. And Friedrich -Nietzsche, so proud when he was alone, was astonished, disturbed, and -humiliated. It seemed that he had not the strength to despise these -people who did not hearken to him; he was disquieted and began to fear -for his well-beloved son, Zarathustra.</p> - -<p>"They will run through my book," he wrote to Gast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> "and it will be a -subject of conversation. That inspires me with disgust. Who is serious -enough to hear me? If I had the authority of old Wagner, my affairs -would be in a better way. But at present <i>no one</i> can save me from -being delivered over to 'literary people.' To the devil!"</p> - -<p>Other vexations affected him: he had taken to chloral, during the -winter, in order to combat his insomnia. He deprived himself of it and -recovered, not without difficulty, his normal sleep. Schmeitzner, the -publisher, did not hurry to print <i>Thus Spake Zarathustra;</i> what was -the cause of the delay? Nietzsche enquired and was told: Five hundred -thousand copies of a collection of hymns had first to be printed for -the Sunday-schools. Nietzsche waited some weeks, received nothing, -asked again; another story: the collection of hymns was published, but -a big lot of anti-Semitic pamphlets had to be printed and thrown upon -the world. June came: <i>Zarathustra</i> had not yet appeared. Friedrich -Nietzsche lost his temper and suffered for his hero, who was thwarted -by the two platitudes, Pietism and anti-Semitism.</p> - -<p>He was discouraged and ceased to write; he left his luggage at the -station with the books and manuscripts which he had brought: one -hundred and four kilos of paper. Everything in Rome harassed him: the -nasty people, a mob of illegitimates; the priests, whom he could not -tolerate; the churches, "caverns with unsavoury odours." His hatred -of Catholicism is instinctive and has far-off origins; always when he -approaches it, he shudders. It is not the philosopher who judges and -reproves; it is the son of the pastor, who has remained a Lutheran: who -cannot endure the other Church, full of incense and idols.</p> - -<p>The desire came to him to leave this town. He heard the beauty of -Aquila praised. Friedrich von<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> Hohenstaufen, the Emperor of the -Arabs and the Jews, the enemy of the popes, resided there; Friedrich -Nietzsche wished to reside there, too. Still, the room which he -occupied was a fine and well-situated one, Piazza Barberini, at the -very top of a house. There one could forget the town: the murmur of -water falling from a triton's horn stilled the noise of humanity and -sheltered his melancholy. There it was that, one evening, he was to -improvise the most poignant expression of his despair and solitude:</p> - -<p>"I am light; alas if I were night! But this is my solitude, to be -always surrounded by light.</p> - -<p>"Alas that I am not shadow and gloom! How I would drink from the -breasts of light!</p> - -<p>"... But I live in my own light, I drink the flames which escape from -me!"</p> - -<p><i>Thus Spake Zarathustra, a Book for All and None,</i> at last appeared -during the first days of June.</p> - -<p>"I am very much on the move," wrote Nietzsche. "I am in agreeable -society, but as soon as I am alone I feel moved as I have never been." -He soon knew the fate of his book. His friends spoke to him very little -of it; the newspapers, the reviews, did not mention it; no one was -interested in this Zarathustra, the strange prophet who in a biblical -tone taught unbelief. "How bitter it is!" said Lisbeth Nietzsche and -Fräulein von Meysenbug; these two women, Christians at heart that they -were, took offence. "And I," wrote Nietzsche to Peter Gast, "I who find -my book so gentle!"</p> - -<p>The heat dispersed this Roman society. Friedrich Nietzsche knew -not where to go. He had hoped for such different days! He had been -persuaded that he would move lettered Europe, that he would at last -attract readers to himself, or (more precisely perhaps)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> that he would -attract, not towards his feeble self, but towards Zarathustra, who was -so strong, disciples or even servitors. "For this summer," he wrote in -May to Peter Gast, "I have a project: to choose, in some forest, some -castle formerly fitted up by the Benedictines for their meditations, -and to fill it with companions, chosen men ... I must go on a quest for -new friends." About the 20th June, thunderstruck by the loss of his -hopes, he went up towards his favourite retreat, the Engadine.</p> - -<p>Lisbeth Nietzsche, who was returning to Germany, accompanied him. Never -had she seen him more brilliant or more gay, she said, than during -these few hours of travel. He improvised epigrams, <i>bouts-rimes,</i> the -words of which his sister suggested; he laughed like a child, and, in -fear of troublesome people who would have disturbed his delight, he -called and tipped the guard at every station.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche had not seen the Engadine since that summer of -1881 in which he had conceived the Eternal Return and the words -of Zarathustra. In the clutch of these memories and of the sudden -solitude, carried away by a prodigious movement of inspiration, he -wrote in ten days the second part of his work.</p> - -<p>It was bitter. Friedrich Nietzsche could no longer repress the -rancours, the menace of which he had felt last winter; he could -no longer unite force to sweetness; "I am not a hunter of flies," -Zarathustra used to say, and he disdained his adversaries. He had -spoken as a benefactor, and he had not been heard. Nietzsche put -into his mouth another speech: "Zarathustra the judge," he wrote in -his short notes; "the manifestation of justice in its most grandiose -form; of justice which fashions, which constructs, and which, as a -consequence, must annihilate."</p> - -<p>Zarathustra the judge has only insults and lamentations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> upon his lips. -He sings this nocturnal chant which Nietzsche, at Rome, had one evening -improvised for himself alone:</p> - -<p>"I am light; alas if I were night! But this is my solitude, to be -always surrounded by light."</p> - -<p>This is no longer the hero whom Friedrich Nietzsche had created so -superior to all humanity; it is a man in despair, it is Nietzsche, in -short, too weak to express anything beyond his anger and his plaints.</p> - -<p>"Verily, my friends, I walk among men as among the fragments and -members of man.</p> - -<p>"To see men broken and scattered as though they lay over a butcher's -shambles, this is to my eye the most frightful thing.</p> - -<p>"And when my eye fleeth from the present to the past, it ever findeth -the same: fragments, members, and frightful catastrophes—but no men!</p> - -<p>"The present and the past upon the earth—alas, my friends, these are -to <i>me</i> the most unbearable things; and I could not live were I not a -visionary of what must come.</p> - -<p>"A visionary, a creator, the future itself and a bridge unto the -future—alas! in some sort also, a cripple upon this bridge: -Zarathustra is all this.... I walk among men, the fragments of the -future: of the future which I contemplate in my visions."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche derided the moral commandments which had upheld -ancient humanity: he wished to abolish them and to establish his own. -Shall we know it at length, this new law? He delays in telling it to -us. "The qualities of the Superman become more and more visible," -he writes in his notes. He would wish that it were so; but can he, -absorbed as he is in discontent and bitterness, enunciate, define a -form of virtue,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> a new good, a new evil, as he had promised? He tries. -He is the prey of a bitter and violent mood, and the virtue which he -exalts is naked force undisguised, that savage ardour which moral -prescriptions have always wished to attenuate, vary, or overcome. He -yields to the attraction which it exercises upon him.</p> - -<p>"With delight I regard the miracles which the ardent sun brings to -birth, says Zarathustra. They are tigers, palm-trees, rattlesnakes.... -Verily, there is a future even for evil, and the hottest noon has not -yet been discovered for man.... One day there will come to the world -the greatest dragons.... Thy soul is so far from what is great that -thou wouldst find the Superman awful in his goodness."</p> - -<p>There is emphasis upon this page. The words are noisy rather than -strong. Perhaps Nietzsche disguises in this way an embarrassment of -thought: he does not insist upon this gospel of evil, and prefers -to adjourn the difficult moment in which his prophet will announce -his law. Zarathustra must first complete his duties as judge, the -annihilator of the weak. He must strike: with what weapon? Here -Nietzsche again takes up the idea of the Eternal Return which he -had withdrawn from his first section. He modifies the sense and the -application of it. It is no longer an exercise of spiritual life, -a process of internal edification; it is a hammer, as he says, an -instrument of moral terrorism, a symbol which disperses dreams.</p> - -<p>Zarathustra assembles his disciples and wishes to communicate to them -the doctrine, but his voice falters; he is silent. Suddenly he is moved -by pity, and the prophet himself suffers as he evokes the terrible -idea. He hesitates at the moment that he is about to destroy these -illusions of a better future, these expectations of another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> life and -of a spiritual beatitude which veil from men the misery of their state. -He grows anxious. A hunchback, who divines this, interpolates with a -sneer: "Why doth Zarathustra speak unto his disciples otherwise than -he speaketh unto himself?" Zarathustra feels his fault and seeks a new -solitude. The second part is thus completed.</p> - -<p>On the 24th June of this year, 1882, Nietzsche was installed at Sils; -before the 10th of July he wrote to his sister:</p> - -<p>"I beg you instantly to see Schmeitzner and engage him orally or by -writing, as you think best, to give the second part of <i>Zarathustra</i> to -the printer as soon as the manuscript is delivered. This second part -exists to-day: try to imagine it, the vehemence of such a creation; -you will scarcely be able to exaggerate it. There is the danger. In -Heaven's name, arrange things with Schmeitzner; I am too irritable -myself."</p> - -<p>Schmeitzner promised and kept his word; in August the proofs arrived. -Nietzsche had not strength enough to correct them and left the work to -Peter Gast and his sister. The terrible things which he had said, the -more terrible things which he had yet to say, bruised him.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Other vexations were added to the melancholy of his thought. An awkward -step on his sister's part awoke again the dissensions of the previous -summer. In the spring, during their reconcilement, he had said to her, -aware of her quarrelsome nature: "Promise me never to go back on the -stories of Lou Salomé and of Paul Rée." For three months she had kept -her peace, then she broke her word and spoke. What did she say? We -do not know; we are again in the obscurity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> of this obscure history. -"Lisbeth," he wrote to Madame Overbeck, "absolutely wants to avenge -herself on the young Russian." No doubt she reported to him some fact, -some observation of which he was ignorant. A sickening irritation laid -hold of him. He wrote to Paul Rée, and this is the letter, a sketch of -which has been found. (Was it sent as we read it? It is not certain.)</p> - -<p>"Too late, almost a year too late, I learn of the part which you took -in the events of last summer, and my soul has never been so overwhelmed -with disgust as it is at present, to think that an insidious individual -of your kind, a liar and a knave, had been able to call himself my -friend for years. It is a crime, in my opinion, and not only a crime -against me, but above all against friendship, against this very empty -word, friendship.</p> - -<p>"Fie, sir! So you are the calumniator of my character, and Miss Salomé -has only been the mouthpiece, the very unsatisfactory mouthpiece, of -the judgment which you passed on me; so it is you who, in my absence, -naturally, spoke of me as though I were a vulgar and low egoist, always -ready to plunder others; so it is you who have accused me of having, -so far as concerned Miss Salomé, pursued the most filthy designs under -a mask of idealism; so it is you who dare to say of me that I was mad -and did not know what I wanted? Now, of a surety, I understand better -the whole of this business which has made men whom I venerated and many -whom I esteemed, as my nearest and dearest, strangers to me.... And I -thought you my friend; and nothing, perhaps, for seven years has done -more harm to my prospects than the trouble that I took to defend you.</p> - -<p>"It seems then that I am not very well advanced in the art of knowing -men. That furnishes you no doubt with matter for mockery. What a fool -you have made of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> me! Bravo! As regards men of your stamp, rather than -understand them, I had rather they mocked me.</p> - -<p>"I would have great pleasure in giving you a lesson in practical -morals with a pair of pistols; I would succeed perhaps, under the most -favourable circumstances, in interrupting once and for all your works -on morals: one needs clean hands for that, Dr. Paul Rée, not dirty -ones!"</p> - -<p>This letter cannot be considered sufficient to condemn Paul Rée. -Friedrich Nietzsche wrote it in a moment of anger upon information -given by his sister, who was often more impassioned than accurate. It -is a precious witness to his impression; to the ill-known data of the -cause, it is a mediocre witness. What was the conduct of Paul Rée? -What were the rights and wrongs? In April, 1883, six months after the -difficulties of Leipsic, he had offered Nietzsche the dedication of a -work on the origins of the moral conscience, a work altogether inspired -by Nietzschean ideas. Nietzsche had refused this public compliment: "I -no longer want," he wrote to Peter Gast, "to be confounded with any -one." A letter written by George Brandes in 1888 shows us Paul Rée -living in Berlin with Miss Salomé, as "brother and sister," according -to both their accounts. There is no doubt that Rée helped Miss Salomé, -towards 1883, to write her book on Friedrich Nietzsche: a very -intelligent and a very noble book. We incline to believe that between -these two men there was only the misfortune of a common love which the -same woman inspired in them.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche wrote long and febrile letters. He complained of -being alone at forty years, betrayed by his friends. Franz Overbeck -grew anxious and went up to Sils-Maria to distract him from the -solitude which wounded and consumed him. His sister, a prudent lady, -and bourgeois in her tastes, advised him in answer to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> complaints: -"You are alone, it is true," said she to him; "have you not sought -solitude? Get an appointment in some University: when you have a title -and pupils, you will be recognised and people will cease to ignore -your books." Nietzsche listened indulgently, but did listen, and wrote -to the Rector of Leipsic, who, without hesitation, dissuaded him from -making any overtures, no German University being in a position to allow -an atheist, a declared anti-Christian, among its teachers. "This reply -has given me courage!" wrote Nietzsche to Peter Gast; to his sister he -sent a strong letter whose thrusts she felt.</p> - -<p>"It is necessary that I be misunderstood, better still, I go to meet -calumny and contempt. My 'near ones' will be the first against me: last -summer I understood that, and I was magnificently conscious that I was -at last on my road. When it comes to me to think, 'I can no longer -endure solitude,' then I experience an unspeakable <i>humiliation before -myself</i>—I feel myself in revolt against what there is of highest in -me...."</p> - -<p>In September he directed his steps towards Naumburg, where it was his -intention to stay some weeks. His mother and sister inspired in him a -mixed feeling, which baffles analysis. He liked his own people because -they were his own, and because he was tender, faithful, infinitely -sensible to memories. But every one of his ideas, every one of his -desires, drew him from them, and his mind despised them. Nevertheless -the old house of Naumburg was the only place in the world where there -was, so long as he stayed there for a short time only, some sweetness -of life for him.</p> - -<p>Mother and daughter were quarrelling. Lisbeth loved a certain Förster, -an agitator, an idealogue of Germanist and anti-Semitic views, who was -organising a colonial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> enterprise in Paraguay. She wished to marry him -and to follow him; her despairing mother wished to retain her. Madame -Nietzsche welcomed her son as a saviour and related to him the mad -projects which Lisbeth was forming. He was overwhelmed; he knew the -person and his ideas, he despised the low and dull passions which the -propaganda excited, and suspected him of having spoken maliciously of -his work. That Lisbeth, the companion of his childhood, should follow -this man was more than he could allow. He called her, spoke violently -to her. She answered him bravely. There was little that was delicate -or subtle in this woman's composition, but she had energy. Friedrich -Nietzsche, so weak in the depth of his soul, valued in her the quality -which he lacked. He might sermonise, scold, but he could not get his -way.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>The late autumn came, and Naumburg was covered with fogs. Nietzsche -left and went to Genoa. These quarrels had lessened his self-respect.</p> - -<p>"Things go badly with me, very badly," he wrote in October to Fräulein -von Meysenbug; "my visit in Germany is the cause. I can live only at -the seaside. Every other climate depresses me, destroys my nerves and -eyes, makes me melancholy, puts me into a black humour—that awful -tare; I have had to combat it in my life more than the hydras and other -celebrated monsters. In trivial ennui is hidden the most dangerous -enemy; great calamity adds to one's stature...."</p> - -<p>Towards mid-November he left Genoa, and, circling the western coast, -began the quest for a winter residence. He passed by San Remo, Mentone, -Monaco, and stopped at Nice, which enchanted him. There he found that -keen air and that plenitude of light, that multitude of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> bright days -which he needed: "Light, light, light," he wrote'; "I have regained my -equilibrium."</p> - -<p>The cosmopolitan city displeased him, and at first he rented a room -in a house of the old Italian city, not Nice, but Nizza, as he always -wrote. For neighbours he had quite simple people, workmen, masons, -employés, who all spoke Italian. It was in similar conditions that in -1881 he had enjoyed at Genoa a certain happiness.</p> - -<p>He chased away his vain thoughts and made an energetic effort to -complete <i>Zarathustra.</i> But then arose the greatest of his misfortunes: -the difficulty of his work was extreme, perhaps insurmountable. To -complete <i>Zarathustra</i>—what did that imply? The work was immense: -it had to be a poem which would make the poems of Wagner forgotten; -a gospel which should make the Gospel forgotten. From 1875 to 1881, -during six years, Friedrich Nietzsche had examined all the moral -systems and shown the illusion which is at their foundation; he had -defined his idea of the Universe: it was a blind mechanism, a wheel -which turned eternally and without object. Yet he wished to be a -prophet, an enunciator of virtues and of purposes: "I am he who -dictates the values for a thousand years," he said in those notes in -which his pride bursts forth. "To imprint his hand on the centuries, as -on soft wax, write on the will of millennia as upon brass, harder than -brass, more noble than brass, there," Zarathustra was to say, "is the -beatitude of the Creator."</p> - -<p>What laws, what tables, did Nietzsche wish to dictate? What values -would he choose to honour or depreciate? and what right had he to -choose, to build up an order of beauty, an order of virtue, in nature, -where a mechanical order reigns? He had the right of the poet, no -doubt, whose genius, the creator of illusions, imposes upon the -imagination of man this love or that hatred, this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> good or that evil. -Thus Nietzsche would answer us, but he did not fail to recognise the -difficulty. On the last pages of the second part of his poem he avowed -it.</p> - -<p>"This, this is my danger," says Zarathustra, "that my glance throweth -itself to the summit, whereas my hand would fain grasp and rest -upon—the void."</p> - -<p>He wished to bring his task to a head. He had felt, this very summer, -as something very close and urgent, the tragic menace that hung over -his life. He was in haste to complete a work which he could at last -present as the expression of his final desires, as his final thought. -He had intended to complete his poem in three parts; three were written -and almost nothing was said. The drama was not sketched. Zarathustra -had to be shown at close quarters with men, announcing the Eternal -Return, humiliating the feeble, strengthening the strong, destroying -the ancient ways of humanity; Zarathustra as lawgiver dictating his -Tables, dying at last of pity and of joy as he contemplates his work. -Let us follow his notes:—</p> - -<p>"Zarathustra reaches at the same moment the most extreme distress and -his greatest happiness. At the most terrible moment of the contrast, he -is broken.</p> - -<p>"The most tragical history with a divine dénouement.</p> - -<p>"Zarathustra becomes gradually more grand. His doctrine develops with -his grandeur.</p> - -<p>"The Eternal Return shines like a sun setting on the last catastrophe."</p> - -<p>"In the last section great synthesis of him who creates, who loves, who -destroys."</p> - -<p>In the month of August, Nietzsche had indicated a dénouement. His -condition of mind was then very bad,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> and his work suffered in -consequence. He now took up the draft again, and tried to make the best -of it.</p> - -<p>It was a drama which he had the ambition to write. He places his -action in an antique frame, in a city devastated by the pest. The -inhabitants wish to commence a new era. They seek a lawgiver; they call -Zarathustra, who descends among them, followed by his disciples.</p> - -<p>"Go," said he to them, "announce the Eternal Return."</p> - -<p>The disciples are afraid and avow it.</p> - -<p>"We can endure thy doctrine," they say, "but can this multitude?"</p> - -<p>"We must make an experiment with truth!" answers Zarathustra. "And if -the truth should destroy humanity, so be it!"</p> - -<p>The disciples hesitate again. He commands: "I have put in your hands -the hammer which must strike men; strike!"</p> - -<p>But they fear the people and abandon their master. Then Zarathustra -speaks alone. The crowd as it hears him is terrified, loses its temper -and its wits.</p> - -<p>"A man kills himself: another goes mad. A divine pride of the poet -animates him: everything <i>must</i> be brought to light. And at the moment -that he announces the Eternal Return and the Superman together, he -yields to pity.</p> - -<p>"Everyone disowns him. 'We must,' they say, 'stifle this doctrine and -kill Zarathustra.'</p> - -<p>"'There is now no soul on the earth who loves me,' he murmurs; 'how -shall I be able to love life?'</p> - -<p>"He dies of sadness on discovering the suffering which is his work.</p> - -<p><i>"'Through love I have caused the greatest sorrow;</i> now I yield to the -sorrow which I have caused.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<p>"All go, and Zarathustra, left alone, touches his serpent with his -hand: 'Who counsels wisdom to me?'—The serpent bites him. The eagle -tears the serpent to bits, the lion throws itself upon the eagle. As -soon as Zarathustra sees the combat of the animals, he dies.</p> - -<p>"Fifth Act: The Lauds.</p> - -<p>"The league of the faithful who sacrifice themselves upon the tomb -of Zarathustra. They had fled: now, seeing him dead, they become the -inheritors of his soul and rise to his height.</p> - -<p>"Funeral ceremony: 'It is we who have killed him.'—The Lauds.</p> - -<p>"The great Noon. Midday and eternity."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche abandoned this plan, which yet gives glimpses of -great beauty. Did he dislike displaying the humiliation of his hero? -Probably, and we shall note his search for a triumphant dénouement. -But it is chiefly to be noted that he has dashed against a fundamental -difficulty, the nature of which he perhaps does not plainly conceive: -the two symbols on which he bases his poem, the Eternal Return and the -Superman, in conjunction create a misunderstanding which renders the -completion of the work impossible. The Eternal Return is a bitter truth -which suppresses all hope. The Superman is a hope, an illusion. From -one to the other there is no passage, the contradiction is complete. -If Zarathustra teaches the Eternal Return, he will fail to excite in -men's souls an impassioned belief in superhumanity. And if he teaches -the Superman, how can he propagate the moral terrorism of the Eternal -Return? Nevertheless, Friedrich Nietzsche assigns him these two tasks; -the breathless disorder of his thoughts drives him to this absurdity.</p> - -<p>Does he clearly perceive the problem? We do not know. These real -difficulties against which he breaks are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> never avowed. But if he -perceives them ill, at least he feels the inconvenience and seeks by -instinct some way of escape.</p> - -<p>He writes a second sketch which is certainly skilful: the same scene, -the same fever-stricken city, the same supplication to Zarathustra, -who comes among a decimated people. But he comes as a benefactor and -is careful about announcing the terrible doctrine. First, he gives -his laws and has them accepted. Then, and only then, will he announce -the Eternal Return. What are these laws which he has given? Friedrich -Nietzsche indicates them. Here is one of the very rare pages, in which -we discern the order which he has dreamed.</p> - -<p>"<i>(a)</i> The day divided afresh: physical exercises for all the ages of -life. Competition as a principle.</p> - -<p class="center">. . . . . . - . . . . . .</p> - -<p>"<i>(b)</i> The new nobility and its education. Unity. Obtained by -selection. For the foundation of each family, a festival.</p> - -<p>"<i>(c)</i> The <i>experiments.</i> (With the <i>wicked, punishments.</i>) Charity -in a new form, based on a concern for the generations to come. The -wicked respectable so far as they are destroyers, for destruction is -necessary. And also as a source of strength.</p> - -<p>"To let oneself be taught by the wicked, not to deny them competition. -To utilise the degenerate.—Punishment justifiable when the criminal is -utilised for experimental purposes (for a new aliment). Punishment is -thus made holy.</p> - -<p>"<i>(d)</i> To save woman by keeping her woman.</p> - -<p>"<i>(e)</i> The <i>slaves</i> (a hive). The humble and their virtues. To teach -the enduring of repose. Multiplication of machines. Transformation of -the machines into beauty.</p> - -<p>"'For you faith and servitude!'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The times of <i>solitude.</i> Division of the times and days. Food. -Simplicity. A feature of union between the poor and the rich.</p> - -<p>"Solitude necessary from time to time, that the being may examine -himself and concentrate.</p> - -<p class="center">. . . . . . - . . . . . .</p> - - -<p>"The <i>ordinance of festivals,</i> founded on a system of the Universe: -festival of cosmic relations, festival of the earth, festival of -friendship, of the great Noon."</p> - -<p>Zarathustra explains his laws, he makes them loved by all; he repeats -his sermons nine times, and finally announces the Eternal Return. He -speaks to the people; his words have the accent of a prayer.</p> - -<p><i>The great question:</i></p> - -<p>"The laws have already been given. Everything is ready for the -production of the Superman—grand and awful moment! Zarathustra reveals -his doctrine of the Eternal Return—which may now be endured; he -himself, for the first time, endures it.</p> - -<p>"<i>Decisive moment:</i> Zarathustra interrogates all this multitude -assembled for the festival.</p> - -<p>"'Do you wish,' he says, 'the return of it all?' All reply: Yes!</p> - -<p>"He dies of joy.</p> - -<p>"Zarathustra dying holds the earth locked in his arms. And although no -one said a word, they all knew that Zarathustra was dead."</p> - -<p>It is a fine issue: Nietzsche was soon to find it too easy, too fine a -one. This Platonic aristocracy, rather quickly established, left him -in doubt. It corresponded exactly to his desires; did it correspond to -his thoughts? Nietzsche, ready in the destruction of all the ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -moralities, did not find that he had the right of proposing another -so soon? <i>All answered: Yes!</i> Was that conceivable? Human societies -would always draw after them an imperfect mass which would have to be -constrained by force or by laws. Friedrich Nietzsche knew it: "I am a -seer," he wrote in his notes; "but my conscience casts an inexorable -light upon my vision, and I am myself the doubter." He gave up this -last plan. Never was he to recount the active life and the death of -Zarathustra.</p> - -<p>No document admits us to the secret of his sadness. No letter, no -word presents us with the expression of it, We may, surely, take this -very silence as the avowal of his distress and humiliation. Friedrich -Nietzsche had always wished to write a classical work, a history, -system, or poem, worthy of the old Greeks whom he had chosen for -masters. And never had he been able to give a form to this ambition.</p> - -<p>At the end of this year 1883 he had made an all but despairing attempt; -the abundance, the importance of his notes let us measure the vastness -of a work which was entirely vain. He could neither found his moral -ideal nor compose his tragic poem; at the same moment he fails in his -two works and sees his dream vanish. What is he? An unhappy soul, -capable of short efforts, of lyrical songs and cries.</p> - -<p>The year 1884 opened sadly. Some chance fine weather in January -reanimated him. Suddenly he improvised: no city, no people, no laws; a -disorder of complaints, appeals, and moral fragments which seem to be -the debris left over from the ruin of his great work. It is the third -part of Zarathustra. The prophet, like Friedrich Nietzsche, lives alone -and retired upon his mountain. He speaks to himself, deceives himself, -forgets that he is alone; he threatens, he exhorts a humanity which -neither fears nor hearkens to him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> He preaches to it the contempt -of customary virtues, the cult of courage, love of strength and of -the nascent generations. But he does not go down to it, and no one -hears his predication. He is sad, he desires to die. Then, Life, who -surprises his desire, comes to him and raises his courage.</p> - -<p>"O Zarathustra!" says the goddess, "do not crack thy whip so terribly. -Thou knowest, noise murdereth thought. And even now I have very tender -thoughts. Hear me, thou art not faithful enough unto me, thou lovest me -not nearly as much as thou sayst, I know, for thou thinkest of leaving -me...."</p> - -<p>Zarathustra listens to the reproach, smiles and hesitates. "True," he -says at last, "but thou also knowest. ..." They gaze at each other, -and he tells her something in her ear, among all her confused, stupid -yellow tresses. "What though I die?" he says; "nothing can separate, -nothing can reconcile, for every moment has its return, every moment is -eternal."</p> - -<p>"What," answers the goddess, "that thou knowest, Zarathustra? That no -one knoweth."</p> - -<p>Their eyes meet. They look at the green meadow over which the cool of -evening was spreading; they weep, then, in silence, they listen, they -understand the eleven sayings of the old bell which strikes midnight in -the mountain.</p> - -<p><i>One!</i> Oh man! Lose not sight!</p> - -<p><i>Two!</i> What saith the deep midnight?</p> - -<p><i>Three!</i> I lay in sleep, in sleep;</p> - -<p><i>Four!</i> From deep dream, I woke to light.</p> - -<p><i>Five!</i> The world is deep,</p> - -<p><i>Six!</i> And deeper than ever day thought it might.</p> - -<p><i>Seven!</i> Deep is its woe—</p> - -<p><i>Eight!</i> And deeper than woe—delight.</p> - -<p><i>Nine!</i> Saith woe: Pass, go!</p> - -<p><i>Ten!</i> Eternity's sought by all delight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>—<i>Eleven!</i> Eternity deep by -all delight.<a name="FNanchor_8_16" id="FNanchor_8_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_16" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> - -<p><i>Twelve!</i></p> - -<p class="center">. . . . . . - . . . . . .</p> - -<p>Then Zarathustra rises: he has recovered his security, his sweetness, -and his strength. He takes up his staff and sings as he goes down -towards men. A similar versicle completes the seven strophes of his -hymn:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Never yet have I found the woman by whom I would like to -have children, if it be not the woman whom I love: for I -love thee, oh Eternity!</p> - -<p>"For I love thee, oh Eternity!"</p></blockquote> - -<p>At the opening of the poem Zarathustra entered the great town—the -Multi-coloured Cow he names it—and began his apostolate. At the end of -the third part Zarathustra descends to the great town to recommence his -apostolate there. Friedrich Nietzsche, a vanquished warrior, after two -years of labour, has quailed. In 1872 he sent to Fräulein von Meysenbug -the interrupted series of his lectures on the future of Universities: -"It gives one a terrible thirst," he said to her, "and, in the long -run, nothing to drink." The same words apply to his poem.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_14" id="Footnote_6_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_14"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Albergo la Poata (information given by M Lanzky).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_15" id="Footnote_7_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_15"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> An unpublished letter, communicated by M. Romain Rolland.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_16" id="Footnote_8_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_16"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Translation published by T. Fisher Unwin.</p></div> - - -<hr /> -<h4>III</h4> - - -<h5>Heinrich von Stein</h5> - -<p>In April, 1884, the third and fourth sections (of <i>Zarathustra)</i> were -published simultaneously. For the moment Nietzsche seems to have been -happy.</p> - -<p>"Everything comes in its own good time," he wrote to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> Peter Gast on -March 5th. "I am forty and I find myself at the very point I proposed, -when twenty, to reach at this age. It has been a fine, a long, and a -formidable passage."</p> - -<p>"To you," he wrote to Rohde, "who are <i>homo litteratus,</i> I need not -hesitate to avow that in my opinion I have with this <i>Zarathustra</i> -brought the German language to its pitch of perfection. After Luther -and Goethe a third step remained to be taken—and consider, my old and -dear comrade, were ever strength, subtlety, and beauty of sound so -linked in our language? My style is a dance; I trifle with symmetries -of all sorts, and I play on these symmetries even in my selection of -vowels."</p> - -<p>This joy lasted only for a little while. Without fresh work to hand -Nietzsche's ardour had no purpose and turned to ennui. Should he -arrange his system methodically, draw up a "philosophy of the future"? -He considers this, but finds that he is weary of thought and of -writing. What he needs is rest and the refreshment of music; but the -music which he could love does not exist. Italian music is flabby, -German music preachy, and his taste is for the live and the lyrical; -for something grave and delicate; something rhythmical, scornful, and -passionate. <i>Carmen</i> pleases him well enough, and yet to <i>Carmen</i> he -prefers the compositions of his disciple, Peter Gast. "I need your -music," he wrote to Gast.</p> - -<p>Peter Gast was at this time in Venice, where Nietzsche wished to join -him. But Venice was damp, and he dared not leave Nice before mid-April. -Clearly an invalid's exigencies are becoming each year more and more -urgent. A gloomy day lowers his spirits, a week without the sun -prostrates him.</p> - -<p>On the 26th of April he arrived in Venice. Peter Gast found rooms for -him not far from the Rialto, with windows that opened on the Grand -Canal. He had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> been in Venice for four years, and it was with a -child's pleasure that he remade the acquaintance of the loved city. He -stayed in the labyrinth of Venice; Venice—whose spirit is compounded -of the magic of sun and water, the gracefulness of a gay and tactful -people, and glimpses of unexpected gardens with flowers and mosses -springing among the stones. "One hundred profound solitudes," he notes, -"compose Venice—hence her magic. A symbol for the men of the future." -For four or five hours every day he walked the little streets as he had -walked the hills, sometimes isolating himself, sometimes moving with -the Italian crowd.</p> - -<p>He was endlessly reflecting upon the difficulties of his task. What -should he write next? He had thought of annotating some verses of -his poem by means of a series of pamphlets, but then no one had read -the words of Zarathustra. Those friends to whom they had been sent -preserved a melancholy silence which constantly astonished him. A young -author, Heinrich von Stein, was almost alone in sending him a word of -warm congratulation. Nietzsche therefore gave up the idea, feeling that -it would be ridiculous to comment upon a Bible which the public ignored.</p> - -<p>Very seriously he considered a "philosophy of the future." His -intention was to give up, or at least to defer, further work on his -poem; he would confine himself to long study—"five, six years of -meditation and of silence, maybe"—and formulate his system in a -precise and definite manner. Various projects were in his mind when, -towards the middle of June, he left Venice for Switzerland. He wished -first to read certain books on historical and natural science in the -libraries of Basle, but his stay in that town was brief, for he found -the heavy heat oppressive and his friends there failed to please him. -Either they had not read <i>Thus Spake Zarathustra</i> or they had read it -very badly. "I might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> have been among cows," he wrote to Peter Gast, -and returned to the Engadine.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>On the 20th of August Heinrich von Stein wrote that he was coming.</p> - -<p>Stein was at this time a very young man, scarcely twenty-six years -of age. But there was no German writer of whom greater things were -expected than of him. In 1878 he had published a little volume called -<i>The Ideals of Materialism, Lyrical Philosophy.</i> Friedrich Nietzsche -made the acquaintance of the author, in whose essay he recognised a -research analogous to his own. He thought that he had found a kindred -spirit, a comrade in his task; but this hope deceived him. Fräulein -von Meysenbug had prided herself on bringing Heinrich von Stein under -Wagner's influence. It was her defect to be always more benevolent than -far-sighted. Thanks to her good offices, Wagner's house was opened to -Stein as it had been opened ten years earlier to Nietzsche, and there -Stein lived in spite of Nietzsche's warning, "You admire Wagner, and it -is right that you should do so—provided your admiration does not last -long." Wagner talked, and Stein, who could neither free himself from -the master's influence nor oppose it, listened. His intellectual quest, -which had hitherto been unquiet but fruitful, now came to an end. He -closed his notebooks; he was conquered by a man too great for him, -sucked in and sucked dry.</p> - -<p>The works which he published—he died at thirty—are temperate and -acute, but they lack one quality, precisely that which gives a high -value to his first essays—audacity, daring, the charm of a nascent -thought, ill-expressed but intense.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche continued to interest himself in Stein, and superintended the -young man's work and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> friendships. "Heinrich von Stein," he wrote -in July to Madame Overbeck, "is at present the adorer of Miss Salomé. -My successor in that employment as in much else." The danger that Stein -ran caused him a great deal of uneasiness. Stein, however, read and -appreciated his books, as Nietzsche rejoiced to know.</p> - -<p>He was strangely moved on receiving the letter, for Stein had seemed -to understand <i>Thus Spake Zarathustra,</i> and it might be that a longing -for liberty was the explanation of his visit. Stein would make up to -him for all the friends that he had lost; and what a revenge, moreover, -if he should conquer this disciple of Wagner's, this philosopher -from Bayreuth! He hastily sent a welcome, signed "The Solitary of -Sils-Maria."</p> - -<p>There is a possible interpretation of Stein's movements which never -occurred to Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered that Stein was the intimate and faithful friend -of Cosima Wagner; and certainly he did not now come to Nietzsche -without first consulting this shrewd woman and receiving her -approbation. Moreover, Nietzsche himself had not yet attacked, but had -merely withdrawn from Wagner. In July, 1882, he had seemed favourable -to a reconciliation. Fräulein von Meysenbug's endeavours, whether he -had authorised them or no, caused him to consider the possibility; and -in February, 1883, after Wagner's death, he wrote to Cosima Wagner. He -had so far been able to avoid saying anything irreparable, and all his -later work, even the very end of <i>Zarathustra,</i> with its very vague -lyricism, did not close the door on the hope of an understanding. This -was Stein's own impression, and he wrote to Nietzsche:</p> - -<p>"How I long for you to come this summer to Bayreuth and hear -<i>Parsifal.</i> When I think of that work I imagine a poem of pure beauty, -a spiritual adventure that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> is purely human, the development of a youth -who becomes a man. I can find in <i>Parsifal</i> no pseudo-Christianity of -any sort and fewer tendencies than in any other of Wagner's works. If -I write to you—in a spirit at once audacious and timid—it is not -because I am a Wagnerian, but because I wish for <i>Parsifal</i> such a -hearer as you, and for such a hearer as you I wish <i>Parsifal.</i>"</p> - -<p>Cosima Wagner's judgments were sound, and she knew Nietzsche's worth. -She now carried the heavy burden of Wagner's fame; she had a tradition -to prolong, a heritage to maintain. By recalling Nietzsche to her side -she would aid an extraordinary man, a rare soul that was wasting itself -in solitary effort, and she would aid herself at the same time—or so -she may have thought. One does not like to say in so many words that -she chose Heinrich von Stein as emissary and conciliator. But one may -be certain that she knew of, and did not disapprove, the young man's -attempt.</p> - -<p>If there was such a thing as a Wagnerian equal to the enterprise, it -was Heinrich von Stein. He was the most open-minded of the disciples. -For him that mysticism of doubtful quality which <i>Parsifal</i> propagated -was not the last word in religion. He included Schiller, Goethe, and -Wagner in one tradition as the creators of myths and the educators -of their age and race. For him the theatre of Bayreuth was not an -apotheosis, but a promise, an instrument for the future, the symbol of -a lyrical tradition.</p> - -<p>Stein was anxious to acquit himself well of his mission, but he spoke -little. It was Nietzsche himself, the man, to whom he appealed, who -spoke, and who saw that he was heard. We may perhaps picture the -interview and Nietzsche's words:</p> - -<p>"You admire Wagner? Who does not? As well as you and better than -you have I known, revered, and hearkened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> to him. I learnt from him -not the style of his art, but the style of his life—his valour and -enterprise. I am aware that I have been accused of ingratitude, which -is a word I ill understand. I have continued my work. In the best sense -of the word, I am his disciple. You frequent Bayreuth, which is very -agreeable for you, too agreeable. Wagner offers you for your delight -all the legends, all the beliefs of the past—German, Celtic, pagan, -and Christian. You should leave him for the same reason that I left -him, because this delight is destructive to the spirit which seeks -truth. Mark you, I say no word against art or religion. I believe that -their day will be again. Not one of the old values will be abandoned. -They will re-appear, transfigured no doubt, and more powerful and more -intense, in a world thoroughly illuminated to its depths by science. -We shall rediscover all the things that we loved in our childhood and -in our adolescence, all that has upheld and exalted our fathers—a -poetry, a goodness, the most sublime virtues, the humblest, too, each -in its glory and its dignity. But we must accept the darkness, we must -renounce and search. ... The possibilities are unheard of, but alone I -am weak. Help me, therefore; stay or come back here, six thousand feet -above Bayreuth!"<a name="FNanchor_9_17" id="FNanchor_9_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_17" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>Stein listened. His diary reveals the growing vividness of his -impressions:</p> - -<p>"24 viii. '84. Sils-Maria. Evening with Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>"27. His freedom of intellect, the imagery of his speech, a great -impression. Snow and winter winds. Headaches. At night I watch him -suffer.</p> - -<p>"29. He has not slept, but has all the ardour of a young man. A sunny -and magnificent day!"</p> - -<p>After three days, the too-youthful emissary left, greatly moved by what -had passed, and promising to rejoin Nietzsche at Nice, as the latter, -at least, understood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> Nietzsche felt that he had greatly carried the -day. "Such an encounter as ours must have an early and far-reaching -importance," he wrote to Stein a few days after his departure. "Believe -me, you now belong to that little band whose fate, for good or ill, is -linked to mine." Stein answered that the days at Sils-Maria were to him -a great memory, a grave and solemn moment of his life; and then, rather -prudently, went on to speak of the binding conditions imposed on him -by his works and his profession. What he did <i>not</i> say was, "Yes, I am -yours."</p> - -<p>Was Nietzsche's mind open enough to perceive the reservation? One -cannot tell. He was making marvellous plans, and dreamt anew of an -"ideal cloister." To Fräulein von Meysenbug he made the naïve proposal -that she should come to Nice and spend the winter near him.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Chance permits us to discover the depths of his soul. He had gone down -to Basle in September, and there Overbeck visited him at his hotel, and -found him in bed, suffering from a sick headache, very low in himself, -and at the same time exceedingly talkative. His excited speech troubled -Overbeck, who was initiated into the mystery of the "Eternal Return." -"One day we shall be here together again in this very place; I again, -as I now am, sick; you again, as now you are, amazed at my words." He -spoke in a low and trembling voice, and his face was troubled—this is -the Nietzsche that Lou Salomé has described. Overbeck listened gently, -but avoided argument of any sort, and left with evil forebodings. Not -until the tragic meeting in Turin in January, 1889, was he again to see -his friend.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche merely passed through Basle. His sister, whom he had not -seen since the quarrel of the previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> autumn, gave him a rendezvous -at Zürich. It was to announce her marriage, which had taken place in -secret some months before. She was now no longer Fräulein Nietzsche -but Madame Förster, ready to leave for Paraguay with the colonists who -were under the charge of her husband. Recrimination would therefore -have been a waste of time. The step had been taken; Nietzsche did not -discuss it, and did his best to be pleasant once again to the sister -who was lost to him. "My brother," wrote Madame Förster, "seems to be -in a very satisfactory condition. He is bright and charming; we have -been together for six weeks, talking, laughing over everything."</p> - -<p>She has left us a record of these days which she supposes—or -pretends to suppose—were happy. Nietzsche came upon the works of one -Freiligrath, a mediocre and popular poet. On the cover of the volume -was inscribed <i>Thirty—eighth Edition.</i> With comical solemnity he -exclaimed, "Here, then, we have at last a true German poet. The Germans -buy his verse!" He decided to be a good German for the day, and bought -a copy. He read and was hugely diverted—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Wüstenkönig ist der Löwe;<br /> -Will er sein Gebiet durchfliegen."<br /> -<br /> -(King of deserts is the Hon:<br /> -Will he traverse his dominion.)<br /> -</p> - -<p>He declaimed the pompous hemistiches. The Zürich hotel resounded with -his childish laughter as he amused himself improvising verses on every -subject in the manner of a Freiligrath.</p> - -<p>"Hullo!" said an old general to the brother and sister. "What is -amusing you two? It makes one jealous to hear you. One wants to laugh -like you."</p> - -<p>It is unlikely that Nietzsche had much cause for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> laughter. One wonders -whether he could contemplate those thirty-eight editions of Freiligrath -without bitterness. During his stay in Zürich he went to the library to -look through the files of the newspapers and reviews for his name. It -would have meant a good deal to him to have read a capable criticism of -his work, to have seen his thought reflected in another's; but no voice -ever answered his labours.</p> - -<p>"The sky is beautiful, worthy of Nice, and this has lasted for days," -he wrote to Peter Gast on September 30th. "My sister is with me, and it -is very agreeable for us to be doing each other good when for so long -we had been doing harm only. My head is full of the most extravagant -lyrics that ever haunted a poet's skull. I have had a letter from -Stein. This year has brought me many good things, and one of the most -precious of its gifts has been Stein, a new and a sincere friend.</p> - -<p>"In short, let us be full of hope; or we may better express it by -saying with old Keller—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"'Trinkt, O Augen, was die Wimper hält<br /> -Von dem goldnen Ueberfluss der Welt! '"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Brother and sister left Zürich, the one bound for Naumburg, the other -for Nice. On the way Nietzsche stopped at Mentone. Hardly had he -settled down there than he wrote: "This is a magnificent place. I have -already discovered eight walks. I hope that no one will join me. I need -absolute quiet."</p> - -<p>It is possible that the project which he had formed at the beginning of -the summer, when he spoke of six years of meditation and of silence, -was again in his mind. But he lacked the force of will which long and -silent meditation demands. He was, however, deeply moved by the hope of -a friend and by the loss of a sister, and his lyric<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> impatience broke -the bonds. Yielding to instinct he composed poems off-hand—songs, -short stanzas, epigrams. Practically all the poems which are to -be found in his later works—the light verse, the biting distich, -inserted in the second edition of the <i>Gaya Scienza,</i> the grandiose -Dionysian chants—were finished or conceived during these few weeks. -And once more he began to think of the still incomplete <i>Thus Spake -Zarathustra.</i> "A fourth, a fifth, a sixth part are inevitable," he -writes. "Whatever happens I must bring my son Zarathustra to his noble -end. Alive, he leaves me no peace."</p> - -<p>At the end of October Nietzsche left Mentone. The sight of so many -invalids disturbed him, and he set out for Nice.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>There an unexpected companion, Paul Lanzky by name, soon joined -him. Lanzky was an "intellectual," by birth a German and by taste a -Florentine, who lived a wandering life. Chance had put the works of -Nietzsche into his hands; and he had understood them. Applying to -Schmeitzner, the publisher, for the author's address, he was told—" -Herr Friedrich Nietzsche lives a very lonely life in Italy. Write -to Poste Restante, Genoa." The philosopher replied promptly and -graciously, "Come to Nice this winter and we will talk!" So Nietzsche -was not so unsociable and solitary after all! This correspondence took -place during the autumn of 1883, but Lanzky was not free at the moment, -and begged to be excused. In October, 1884, he reached the rendezvous. -Meanwhile he had had the opportunity of acquainting himself with the -two last sections of <i>Zarathustra,</i> and had published very intelligent -summaries of them in a Leipsic magazine and in the <i>Rivista Europea</i> of -Florence.</p> - -<p>On the very morning of his arrival in Nice there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> a knock at his -door. A gentle-looking man entered the room and came towards him -smiling. "Also Sie sind gekommen!" said Nietzsche. "So here you are!" -He took him by the arm, and examined curiously this student of his -works. "Let's see what you are made of!"</p> - -<p>Nietzsche's eyes were fixed upon him; those eyes which had once been -beautiful, and were, at moments, still beautiful, clouded though they -now were by reason of prolonged suffering. Lanzky was astonished. He -had come to do honour to a redoubtable prophet, and here was the most -affable, the simplest, and, as it seemed to him, the most modest of -German professors.</p> - -<p>As the two men went out together, Lanzky avowed his surprise—" -Master," he began....</p> - -<p>"You are the first to call me by that name," said Nietzsche with a -smile. But he let the word pass, for he knew that he was a master.</p> - -<p>"Master," continued Lanzky, "what a mistaken idea of you one gathers -from your books; tell me ..."</p> - -<p>"No, no, not to-day. You do not know Nice. I will do the honours, and -show you this sea, these mountains, these walks.... Another day we -shall talk, if you will."</p> - -<p>By the time they returned it was six o'clock in the evening, and Lanzky -had discovered how tireless a walker was his prophet.</p> - -<p>They organised their life in common. At six o'clock in the morning it -was Nietzsche's custom to make himself a cup of tea, which he took -alone; towards eight Lanzky would knock at his door and ask how he had -passed the night—Nietzsche often slept badly—and how he intended to -employ his morning. Usually Nietzsche began the day by skimming the -newspapers in a public reading hall; he then went to the shore, where -Lanzky either joined him or respected his desire for a solitary walk. -Both of them lunched in their pension. In the afternoon they walked -out together. At night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> Nietzsche wrote or Lanzky read to him aloud, -often from some French book, such as the <i>Letters</i> of the Abbé Galiani, -Stendhal's <i>Le Rouge et le Noir, La Chartreuse, L'Armance.</i></p> - -<p>To live courteously, yet withhold from ordinary gaze the secret of -one's life, is a whole art in itself; and this art Nietzsche had -mastered. Indeed, as regards the scheme of manners that he had composed -for himself, this solitary of the table d'hôte was, deliberately, -hypocritical and almost cunning. More than once Lanzky was nonplussed. -One Sunday a young lady asked Nietzsche had he been to church.</p> - -<p>"To-day, no," he replied courteously.</p> - -<p>To Lanzky, who admired his prudence, he explained that every truth was -not good for everyone. "If I had troubled that girl's mind," he added, -"I should be horrified."</p> - -<p>Occasionally it amused him to announce his future greatness. He would -tell his neighbours during meals that in forty years' time he would be -illustrious throughout Europe.</p> - -<p>They would say: "Well, then lend us your books."</p> - -<p>He refused their requests most positively, and again explained to -Lanzky that his writings were not for the man in the street.</p> - -<p>"Master," asked Lanzky, "why do you print them?"</p> - -<p>It appears that no answer was given to this reasonable question.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche, however, dissembled even with Lanzky. The formation of a -society of friends, of an idealistic phalanstery similar to that in -which Emerson lived—this old dream of his he loved to repeat and -elaborate for him.</p> - -<p>He often led Lanzky to the peninsula of Saint-Jean. "Here," he would -say in Biblical phrase—"Here we shall pitch our tents." He went so far -as to select a group<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> of little villas which seemed to be suitable for -his purpose. But the members were not yet decided upon, and the name of -Heinrich von Stein, the only friend, the only disciple whom he really -wanted, was never mentioned in Lanzky's presence.</p> - -<p>There was no news of Stein's coming, nor of his plans. To Nietzsche -he gave no sign. We may assume that he had gone to Sils-Maria to -conciliate, if possible, the two masters. But one of them had said that -he must choose between the two: perhaps he had been disturbed for a -moment. He returned, however, to his Germany, and there he saw Cosima -Wagner again. Nietzsche had required that he should choose, and he -remained faithful to Wagner.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche anticipated a new desertion. He was afraid, and, yielding to -a humble and mournful impulse, wrote, in the form of a poem, an appeal -which he addressed to the young man:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -O midday of life! O solemn time!<br /> -O garden of summer!<br /> -Unquiet happiness I am there: listening, waiting!<br /> -Night and day, living in hope of the friend;<br /> -"Where are ye, friends? Come! It is time, it is time!"<a name="FNanchor_10_18" id="FNanchor_10_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_18" class="fnanchor">[10]</a><br /> -</p> - -<p>Heinrich von Stein felt it incumbent upon him to reply. He wrote: "To -an appeal such as yours there is but one suitable reply. It is that I -should come and give myself entirely to you, vowing, as to the noblest -of tasks, all my time to the understanding of the new Gospel which you -have to preach. But this is forbidden me. An idea, however, strikes me. -Every month I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> entertain two friends and read with them some article -from the Wagner-Lexicon. It is taken as text, and, on it, I speak to -them. These conversations are becoming more and more lofty and free. -Latterly we have found this definition of æsthetic emotion—a passage -to the impersonal through very fulness of personality. I think that our -meetings would please you. And how if Nietzsche should now and again -send us the text? Would you communicate with us in this way? Would you -not see in such a correspondence an introduction, a step towards your -idea of a cloister?"</p> - -<p>This letter was obviously the letter of an excellent pupil, and it -exasperated Nietzsche. Wagner was named, doubtless intentionally, and -the Wagnerian Encyclopedia, the sum of an absurd and puerile theology, -was indicated as the text of Stein's meditations. Here was the old -adversary again standing in the way, Wagner, the quack of thought, the -seducer of young men. Förster, who was taking his sister from him, was -a Wagnerian; and Heinrich von Stein, on Wagner's account, refused him -his devotion. It was a cruel liberty that he had won, alone and at the -cost of a struggle whose wounds he still bore. He wrote to his sister:</p> - -<p>"What a foolish letter Stein has written me in answer to such poetry! -I am painfully affected. Here I am ill again. I have recourse to the -old means [chloral], and I utterly hate all men, myself included, whom -I have known. I sleep well, but on waking I experience misanthropy and -rancour. And yet there can be few men living who are better disposed, -more benevolent than I!"</p> - -<p>Lanzky remarked Nietzsche's trouble of mind without suspecting the -cause. The crisis was very severe, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> Nietzsche did not allow himself -to be crushed by it and laboured energetically. More often now than -heretofore he walked alone, and Lanzky would watch him trip as lightly -as a dancer across the Promenade des Anglais or over the mountain -paths. He would leap and gambol at times, and then suddenly interrupt -his capers to write down a few words with a pencil. What was the new -work on which he was busy? Lanzky had no idea.</p> - -<p>One morning in March he entered, as was his custom, the little room -which the philosopher occupied, to find him in bed notwithstanding the -advanced hour. He made anxious enquiries.</p> - -<p>"I am ill," said Nietzsche; "I have just had my confinement."</p> - -<p>"What's that you say?" asked Lanzky, much perturbed.</p> - -<p>"The fourth part of <i>Zarathustra</i> is written."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>This fourth section does not enable us to discover at length an advance -in the work, an attained precision of thought. It is merely a singular -fragment, an "interlude," as Nietzsche called it. It illustrates a -strange episode in the life of the hero, one which has disconcerted -many a reader. We may perhaps best understand it if we consider the -deception to which Nietzsche has just been subjected.</p> - -<p>The superior men go up to Zarathustra and surprise him in his -mountainous solitude: an old pope, an old historian, an old king, -unhappy beings who are suffering from their abasement and wish to ask -succour of a sage whose strength they feel. Was it not thus that Stein, -that distinguished young man, etiolated by Bayreuth, went to Nietzsche?</p> - -<p>Zarathustra admits these superior men to his presence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> and keeping -in check his savage humour, makes them sit down in his cave, is sorry -for their disquietude, listens and talks to them. Was it not thus that -Nietzsche had received Stein?</p> - -<p>Zarathustra's soul is in its depths less hard than it should be, and -he allows himself to be seduced by the morbid charm and delicacy of -the superior men; he takes pity on them and, forgetting that their -misery is irremediable, yields to the pleasures of hope. He had looked -for friends, and, perhaps, with these "superior men" they have come at -last. Had not Nietzsche hoped for some help from Stein?</p> - -<p>Zarathustra leaves his friends for a moment, and ascends alone to the -mountain. He returns to his cave to find the "superior men," all of -them prostrate before a donkey. The aged pope is saying Mass before the -new idol. In this posture Stein, interpreting a Wagnerian bible with -two friends, had been surprised by Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>Zarathustra hunts his guests away, and calls for new workmen for a new -world. But will he ever find them?</p> - -<p>"My children, my pure-blooded race, my beautiful new race; what is it -that keeps my children upon their isles?</p> - -<p>"Is it not time, full time—I murmur it in thine ear, good spirit of -the tempests,—that they should return to their father? do they not -know that my hair grows gray and whitens in waiting?</p> - -<p>"Go, go, spirit of the tempests, indomitable and beneficent! Leave thy -gorges and thy mountains, precipitate thyself upon the seas and bless -my children before the night has come.</p> - -<p>"Bear them the benediction of my happiness, the benediction of that -crown of happy roses! Let these roses fall upon their isles, let -them remain fallen there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> as a sign, which asks: 'Whence can such a -happiness come? '</p> - -<p>. . . . . .</p> - -<p>"Then they shall ask: 'Still lives he, our father Zarathustra? What, -can our father Zarathustra be still alive? Does our old father, -Zarathustra, still love his children?'</p> - -<p>"The wind breathes, the wind breathes, the moon shines bright—Oh my -far-off, far-off children, why are ye not here, with your father? The -wind breathes no cloud passes over the sky, the world sleeps. Oh, joy! -Oh, joy!"</p> - -<p>Nietzsche omitted this page from his work. Perhaps he felt ashamed of -so plain and so melancholy an avowal.</p> - -<p>The fourth part of <i>Zarathustra</i> found no publisher. A few months -earlier Schmeitzner had informed Nietzsche that "the public would not -read his aphorisms." He now contented himself with stating that the -public had chosen to ignore <i>Zarathustra;</i> and there the matter rested, -so far as he was concerned.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche then made certain overtures which only hurt his pride and had -no result; then he took a more dignified course and had the manuscript -printed at his own expense in an edition limited to forty copies. -To tell the truth, his friends were not so numerous. He found seven -consignees—none of whom were truly worthy. If we may guess, these were -the seven: his sister—whose loss he never ceased to deplore; Overbeck --a strict friend, an intelligent reader, but cautious and reserved; -Burckhardt, the Basle historian—who always replied to Nietzsche's -messages, but was too polite to be easily fathomed; Peter Gast—the -faithful disciple whom, no doubt, Nietzsche found too faithful and -obedient; Lanzky—his good companion of the wintertide; Rohde<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>—who -scarcely disguised the ennui that these forced readings gave him. -These were the seven, we may presume, who received copies of the work, -and not all of them troubled to read this fourth and last section, -the interlude which ends, and yet does not complete, <i>Thus Spake -Zarathustra.</i></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_17" id="Footnote_9_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_17"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Phrase in a passage from <i>Ecce Homo.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_18" id="Footnote_10_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_18"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> -</p> -<p> -"Oh Lebens Mittag! Feierliche Zeit!<br /> -Oh Sommergarten!<br /> -Unruhig Glück im Stehn und Spahn und Warten!<br /> -Der Freunde harr' Ich, Tag und Nacht bereit;<br /> -Wo bleibt ihr, Freunde? Kommt! s'ist Zeit! s'ist Zeit!"<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h5> - - -<h4>THE FINAL SOLITUDE</h4> - - -<h4>I</h4> - -<h5>Beyond Good and Evil</h5> - -<p>The lyrical work was abandoned. At moments Friedrich Nietzsche was -to regret and wish to resume it; but these were brief velleities. -"Henceforth," he wrote (this time the assurance is exact), "I shall -speak, and not Zarathustra."</p> - -<p>The work remained in an incomplete condition. Nietzsche knew it, and -the mass of thoughts which he had not expressed saddened him like a -remorse. He was about to attempt another test. It was without joy that -he returned to philosophy and strove to express in abstract terms what, -as poet, he had failed to utter. He opened new notebooks, he essayed -titles: <i>The Will to Power, a new interpretation of Nature ... The Will -to Power, an essay towards a new interpretation of the universe ...</i>. -These formulas, the first that he had found, were to stand. Nietzsche -resumed and developed here the Schopenhauerian datum. The foundation of -things, he thinks, is not a blind <i>will to live;</i> to live is to expand, -it is to grow, to conquer: the foundation of things may be better -defined as a blind <i>will to power,</i> and all the phenomena that arise in -the human soul may be interpreted as a function of this will.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was an immense work of prudent reflection which Nietzsche envisaged -with fear. How should one discern in the soul of men what is power and -what is, without doubt, weakness? Perhaps the anger of Alexander is -weakness, and the mystic's exaltation power. Nietzsche had hoped that -disciples, philosophers or physiologists, would have made the necessary -analyses for him. Heinrich von Stein's help would have been precious. -But, being alone, he had to assume every task. He grew sad. Denuded -of lyricism, thought had no attraction for him. What does he love? -Instinctive strength, finesse, grace, ordered and rhythmical sounds—he -loves Venice and dreams of the fine weather which will allow him to fly -from this Nice pension where the food and the company are so bad. On -the 30th of March he writes to Peter Gast:</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR FRIEND</span>,—It seldom happens that I consider a removal with -pleasure. Bat on this occasion:—when I think that I shall soon be at -Venice, and near you, I grow animated, am ravished; it is like the hope -of cure after a long and terrible sickness. I have made this discovery: -Venice remains till to-day the only place which is always sweet and -good to me.... Sils-Maria as a place of passage suits me very well; but -not as a residence. Ah! if I could contrive to live there worthily as a -hermit or solitary! But—Sils-Maria becomes fashionable!</p> - -<p>"My dear friend and maestro, you and Venice are linked for me. Nothing -gives me more pleasure than your persistent taste for this town. How -much I have thought of you in these times! I was reading the memoirs -of old De Brossé (1739-40) on Venice and on the maestro who was then -admired there, Hasse (il detto Sassonne). Do not get angry, I haven't -the least intention of making disrespectful comparisons between you.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I have just written to Malvida: thanks to Peter Gast, our friends the -low comedians, the self-styled geniuses of music, gone hence very soon, -will cease to corrupt taste. 'Gone hence very soon'—is, perhaps, a -gross exaggeration. In a <i>democratic</i> period few men discern beauty: -<i>pulchrum paucorum est hominum,</i> I rejoice that for you I am one of -these 'few.' The profound and joyous men who please me, <i>avec des -ames mélancoliques et folles</i><a name="FNanchor_1_19" id="FNanchor_1_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_19" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> like my defunct friends Stendhal and -the Abbé Galiani, could not have stayed on the earth if they had not -loved some musician of joy (Galiani without Puccini, Stendhal without -Cimarosa and Mozart).</p> - -<p>"Ah, if you knew how alone I am in the world at present! and how I must -play a comedy to prevent myself from spitting, now and again, in some -one's face, out of satiety. Happily some of the courteous manners of my -son Zarathustra exist also in his rather crazed father.</p> - -<p>"But when I shall be with you, and in Venice, then, for a time, there -will be an end of 'courtesy' and 'comedy' and 'satiety' and of all the -malediction of Nice, won't there, my good friend?</p> - -<p>"Not to be forgotten: we shall eat <i>baïcoli</i>!</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 80%;">"Cordially,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 90%; font-size: 0.8em;">"F. N."</p> - -<p>In April and May Nietzsche sojourned at Venice, and found the joy -for which he had hoped. He wandered through the little sheltered and -murmurous streets, he contemplated the beautiful town. He listened to -the music of his friend. The galleries of St. Mark's Square shaded -his walks and he compared them to those porticoes of Ephesus whither -Heraclitus went to forget the agitation of the Greeks and the sombre -menace of the Persian Empire. "How easily," he thinks, "one here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> -forgets the sombre Empire—our own; let us not defame our Europe; -she still offers us beautiful refuges! It is my finest workroom, -this Piazza San Marco...." This shortlived happiness awoke the -poetic impulse in him. He wished to chant the triumph and death of -Zarathustra, now for some hours drawn from oblivion. He wrote out a -sketch, but soon abandoned it; it was his last.</p> - -<p>June brought him back to the Engadine. The chances of hotel life -procured him a secretary; a certain Madame Röder, otherwise unknown, -offered to help him. He dictated and tried to grasp his problem more -closely. What was his end? To criticise that multitude of moral -judgments, prejudices and routines which fetter modern Europeans; to -appraise their vital value, that is to say, the quantity of energy -which they express, and thus to fix a hierarchy of virtues. He wished -finally to realise the <i>Umwerthung aller Werthe</i> (he found this -formula), "the transvaluation of all values." "All," he writes; his -pride was not content with less. He then recognised, and succeeded in -defining, certain modes of virtue which the professional moralists -knew not how to observe: mastery over oneself, dissimulation of one's -intimate sentiments, politeness, gaiety, exactitude in obedience and -command, deference, exigence of respect, taste for responsibilities and -for dangers. Such were the usages, the tendencies, to-day depreciated, -of the old aristocratic life, the sources of a morality more virile -than our own.</p> - -<p>It is probable that he then undertook some serious enough readings. He -studied the <i>Biological Problems</i> of Rolph, where he could find the -analysis of that vital growth which was the basis of his metaphysic. -Perhaps he then read again some book by Gobineau (he admired the man -and his works); one may hazard this conjecture. But what mattered his -readings? Nietzsche was forty-two years old. He had passed the age of -learning, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> had gathered in all his ideas. Reading helped, nourished -his meditations, but never directed them.</p> - -<p>The difficulty of his work was great and insomnia overcame him. -Nevertheless he persevered, and denied himself the sad joy of a final -embrace of his sister Lisbeth, who was about to follow her husband to -South America. "You will live down there then," he wrote to her, "and I -here, in a solitude more unattainable than all the Paraguays. My mother -will have to live alone and we must all be courageous. I love you and I -weep.—<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRIEDRICH."</span></p> - -<p>A week passed, and he had formed other projects. He was negotiating -with his publisher in regard to the repurchase of his books and their -republication. It was a pretext that he grasped for going to Germany. -"A business matter, which makes my presence of use, comes to the aid of -my desire," he wrote, and set out for Naumburg without delay.</p> - -<p>The meeting was a grave one: brother and sister conversed tenderly on -the eve of a separation which they knew to be definitive. Nietzsche -made no secret of the difficulties of his life. "Alone I confront a -tremendous problem," he said; "it is a forest in which I lose myself, a -virgin forest—<i>Wald und Urwald.</i> I need help. I need disciples, I need -a master. To obey would be sweet! If I had lost myself on a mountain, -I would obey the man who knew that mountain; sick, I would obey a -doctor; and if I should meet a man capable of enlightening me on moral -ideas, I would listen to him, I would follow him; but I find no one, -no disciples and fewer masters. "... I am alone." His sister repeated -the advice which she had constantly given: that Friedrich should return -to some University; young men had always listened to him, they would -listen to him, they would understand him. "Young men are so stupid!" -answered Nietzsche, "and professors still more stupid! Besides, all the -German Universities repel me; where could I teach?" "In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> Zürich," his -sister suggested. "There is only one town that I can tolerate, and it -is Venice."</p> - -<p>He went to Leipsic to negotiate with his publisher, who received -him without much attention; his books did not sell. He returned to -Naumburg, said a final farewell, and left.</p> - -<p>Where was he to find a refuge for the winter? On the last occasion -he had been irritated by the noisy swarms of Nice. He thinks of -Vallombrosa. Lanzky had recommended this beautiful forest in the -Tuscan Apennines, and was waiting for him at Florence. Before leaving -Germany, Nietzsche, passing through Munich, visited a former friend, -the Baron von Seydlitz, who introduced him to his wife and showed him -his Japanese collection. The wife was young and charming, the Japanese -things pleased Nietzsche; he discovered this art, he liked these -stamps, these little gay objects which conformed so little to the sad -modern taste, so very little to the sad taste of the Germans. Seydlitz -understood beautiful things, and knew how to live; Nietzsche envied him -a little. "Perhaps it is time, dear Lisbeth," he wrote to his sister, -"for you to find me a wife. Let us say, still young, pretty, gay; in -short, a courageous little being <i>à la Irène von Seydlitz</i> (we almost -'thee and thou' each other)."</p> - -<p>He reached Tuscany. Lanzky received him, accompanied him, and brought -him to the observatory of Arcetri, on the heights of San Miniato, -where lived a man of a rare kind—a reader of his books. Leberecht -Tempel kept on his table, near his bizarre instruments, the works of -Herr Friedrich Nietzsche, many passages of which he knew by heart and -willingly recited. Leberecht Tempel was a singularly noble, sincere, -and disinterested nature. The two men talked for half an hour and, it -seems, understood each other. When Nietzsche left he was deeply moved.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I wish that this man had never known my books," said he to Lanzky. "He -is too sensible, too good. I shall harm him."</p> - -<p>For he knew the terrible consequences of his thoughts and feared for -those who read them suffering similar to his own.</p> - -<p>He did not stay in Tuscany: the harsh, cold air which descended from -the mountains upon Florence incommoded him. He was recaptured by -memories of Nice, the town with two hundred and twenty days of full -sunshine—it was from Nice that he wrote to his sister, on the 15th of -November, 1885:</p> - -<p>"Do not be astonished, dear sister, if your brother, who has some of -the blood of the mole and of Hamlet in his veins, writes to you not -from Vallombrosa, but from Nice. It has been very precious to me to -experiment almost simultaneously with the air of Leipsic, of Munich, -of Florence, of Genoa, and of Nice. You would never believe how much -Nice has triumphed in this group. I have put up, as last year, at the -Pension de Genève, Petite Rue Saint-Etienne. I find it recarpeted, -refurnished, repainted, become very comely. My neighbour at table is a -bishop, a Monsignor who speaks German. I think of you a great deal. Your</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">"PRINCE EICHORN."</p> - -<p>"Here I am returned to Nice," he wrote in another letter, "that is -to say to reason." His pleasure is such that he observes with some -indulgence the cosmopolitan city, and is amused by it. "My window looks -out on the square of the Phœnicians," he wrote to Peter Gast. "What -a prodigious cosmopolitanism in this alliance of words! Don't you -laugh? And it's true, Phœnicians lived here. I hear sounding in the -air something of the conqueror and the Super-European, a voice which -gives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> me confidence and says to me: <i>Here thou art in thy place ...</i>. -How far one is from Germany here—'<i>Ausserdeutsch!</i>' I cannot say it -with force enough."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>He returned to his habit of walking in the sun over the white roads -which overlook the waves. The memories of seven years linked his -thought with this sea, these strands, these mountains; his fantasy -awoke, he listened to it and followed it. Not an hour passed vainly; -each one was happy, and left, as the souvenir and witness of the -gladness which it brought, an epigram, a poem in prose, a maxim, some -<i>lied</i> or song.</p> - -<p>He defamed the moderns; it was his pleasure, and, as he thought, his -duty as a philosopher, who, speaking for coming times, must contradict -his own period. In the sixteenth century a philosopher did well to -praise obedience and kindliness. In the nineteenth century, in our -Europe impaired by Parisian decadents and Wagnerian Germans, in this -feeble Europe which is ever seeking the co-operation of the masses, the -line of least effort and the least pain, a philosopher had to praise -other virtues. He had to affirm: "That man is great who knows how to -be the most solitary, the most hidden, the most distant; who knows how -to live beyond good and evil, the master of his virtues, powerful in -his will. Greatness is there. And he must urgently ask: Is greatness -possible to-day?"—<i>Ist Veredlung möglich?</i> We never cease to hear this -question which he first put at twenty-six.</p> - -<p>He defamed the Germans; this was his other pleasure, a more intimate -and lively one. Germanised Europe had unlearned freedom. She -dissimulated her spites, her immodesties, her cunning. She needed to -recover the spirit of the old world, of those Frenchmen of former times -who lived in so fine a liberty, with so fine a clear-sightedness and -force. "We must <i>mediterraneanise</i> music," wrote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> he, "and our taste, -our manners also." Across these pages of Nietzsche, it is easy to hear -the counsels of his "defunct friends," Stendhal and the Abbé Galiani.</p> - -<p>"Men of profound melancholy," he wrote, "betray themselves when they -are happy: they seize upon their happiness as though they would -strangle it and stifle it out of jealousy.... Alas, they know too well -that happiness flies before them!" December neared its end, and those -festivals, the memories of which moved his faithful heart, approached; -Nietzsche had seen his happiness in flight before him. The pleasure -of lively thoughts, of beautiful images, did not entirely satisfy -him. He was no longer amused by the crowd at Nice, the square of the -Phœnicians diverted him no more. What mattered to him the <i>Gai -Saber</i> and its precepts—sunlight, wind and Provençal song? He was a -German, the son of a pastor, and it was with an oppressed heart that he -watched Christmas and Saint Sylvester's day approach—that venerated -time.</p> - -<p>He took a disgust for the poor pension in which he lodged: its -furniture was touched by too many hands, its sitting-room degraded -by being common property. Then the cold weather came. Being poor, he -could not get the warmth he needed; he froze, bitterly regretting the -stoves of Germany. Wretched places where he cannot ever be alone! To -the right, a child is clattering its scales; above, two amateurs are -practising on the trumpet and violin. Friedrich Nietzsche, yielding to -bitterness, wrote to his sister, who was spending a last Christmas at -Naumburg:</p> - -<p>"How stupid it is that I have no one here who might laugh with me! If I -were stronger, and if I were richer, I should set up in Japan, to know -a little gaiety. At Venice I am happy because there one can live in the -Japanese manner without too great difficulty. All the rest of Europe -is pessimist and mournful; Wagner's horrible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> perversion of music is a -particular case of the perversion, of the universal trouble.</p> - -<p>"Here is Christmas again, and it is sad to think that I must continue -to live, as I have done for seven years, like a man proscribed, like a -cynical contemner of men. No one bothers about my existence any more; -the Lama has 'better to do,' and in any case enough to <i>do....</i> Isn't -it fine, my Christmas letter? Long live the Lama!</p> - -<p>"Your F.</p> - -<p>"Why do you not go to Japan? It is the most sensible life, and so gay."</p> - -<p>Eight days later he wrote a better letter; perhaps he had reproached -himself for his confession.</p> - -<p>"<i>Chérie,</i> the weather is magnificent to-day, and your Fritz must -afresh put on a good face for you, though in these latter times he has -had nights and days that were most melancholy. By chance my Christmas -was a real festival day. At noon, I receive your kind presents; very -quickly I pass round my neck your watch-chain, and slide your pretty -little calendar into my waistcoat pocket. As to the 'money,' if there -was money in the letter (our mother wrote me that there was), it -escaped my fingers. Excuse your blind animal who undid his packet in -the road; something no doubt fell from it, as I opened your letters -very impatiently. Let us hope that a poor old woman, passing there, -found her 'little child Jesus' on the pavement. Then I go on foot to -my peninsula of Saint Jean, I walk a great round along the coast, and -finally install myself not far from the young soldiers who are playing -at skittles. Fresh-blown roses, geraniums in the hedges, everything -green, everything warm: nothing of the north! There, your Fritz drinks -three glasses of a sweet wine of the country, and perhaps gets a trifle -tipsy; at least he begins to talk to the waves, and, when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> foam as -they break too strongly against the shore, he says to them, as one does -to fowl: 'Butsch! Butsch! Butsch!' Finally, I re-enter Nice and, in the -evening, dine at my pension in princely style in the glitter of a great -Christmas-tree. Would you believe it, I have found a baker <i>de luxe</i> -who knows what 'Quackkuchen' is; he told me that the King of Würtemburg -had ordered some of it, similar to the kind I like, for his birthday. I -remembered this while I was writing <i>'in princely style.'</i> ... In alter -liebe,</p> - -<p>"Your F.</p> - -<p>"N.B.—I have begun to sleep again (without narcotics)."</p> - -<p>In January, February, and March, 1886, his melancholy appeared to -be less acute. He gave a form to his work, to those notes which his -fantasy had dictated to him. For four years he had ceased to publish -his aphorisms, his short essays. The matter with which his notebooks -supplied him was immense. He proposed to extract a volume from it; his -whole task was to arrange and select.</p> - -<p>Had he forgotten the systematic work of which he had thought the -previous winter? No, for he always felt the heavy necessity and the -reproach of it. He wished to make peace with his own conscience in -regard to the delay: he needed a little pleasure, the amusement of a -lively book, before commencing the immense work. He found a title, -<i>Beyond Good and Evil;</i> a sub-title, <i>Prelude to a Philosophy of the -Future.</i> Thus he announced the more important and always deferred work. -He deceived himself in connecting by an artificial tie his pleasure and -his duty.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Remember how joyously he used to announce the completion of the book; -how communicative he was and how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> confident! Confidence and joy are -gone. He knows that he will not be read. But his ill-fortune always -exceeds his expectation, and Nietzsche, once again, has not foreseen -the ordeal which he must endure: <i>Beyond Good and Evil</i> finds no -publisher. He negotiates with a house in Leipsic which declines his -proposals. He writes to Berlin without better success. Everywhere his -book is refused. What is he to do with it? He thinks of cutting it up -into pamphlets which will perhaps reach the public more easily. He -writes an experimental preface.</p> - -<p>"These pamphlets," he is to say, "form a sequel to the 'Thoughts out of -Season' which I published some ten years ago in the hope of drawing to -me 'my fellows.' I was then young enough to go fishing for associates -with an impatient hope. To-day—after a hundred years: I measure the -time by my measure—I am not yet old enough to have lost all hope and -confidence."</p> - -<p>But he soon abandoned this idea too. "There is nothing else for me to -do," he wrote to his sister, "but to tie up my manuscript with a string -and put it in a drawer."</p> - -<p>In the spring he stayed at Venice, as his custom was, but did not -meet his friend, who was visiting the German towns in the vain hope -of "placing" his music. Peter Gast had composed an opera, <i>The Lion -of Venice,</i> which was being rejected by one theatre after another. -Nietzsche wrote to comfort and encourage him. Like Nietzsche, Gast was -a German by birth, a Mediterranean in taste. The one lived at Nice, the -other at Venice; they had the same ambition, the same unhappy destiny.</p> - -<p>"Come back," he wrote to him, "come back to the solitude in which -we both know how to live, in which we alone know how to live! It is -Wagnerism which bars your road, and it's also that German grossness and -thickness which, since the 'Empire,' goes growing, growing. We must be -circumspect and march under arms, you and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> I, to prevent ourselves from -being forced to die of silence...."</p> - - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche felt his solitude alleviated by this comradeship in -a difficult lot. Peter Gast's distress was similar to his own; he spoke -to him as to a brother. Peter Gast was poor: "Let us share my purse," -said Nietzsche; "let us share the little that I have." Peter Gast grew -discouraged and lost confidence in himself: Nietzsche knew this agony; -he knew the great necessity of confidence to the man who worked, and -how quickly the contempt of the public must overwhelm him. "Courage," -he wrote; "do not let yourself be cast down; be sure that I, at least, -believe in you; I need your music; without it I could not live." We -need not doubt that Nietzsche was sincere when he thus expressed -himself. All his power of love and admiration, which was immense, he -brought to bear upon this last companion who remained to him, and his -friendship transfigured the music of Peter Gast.</p> - -<p>He was unhappy, even at Venice; the light hurt the delicate nerves of -his eyes. As at Basle in former times, he was obliged to shut himself -up behind closed shutters, and deny himself the pleasure of the fine -Italian days. What refuge could he find? He recalled the vast German -forests, so shady and beneficent to his eyes, and he took to regretting -his country. Though she angered him, though he revolted against her, -he loved Germany; how could he help loving her? Without her divine -music, which had governed the impulses of his first desires, his soul -would have been other; without her tongue, that splendid and difficult -instrument, his thought would have been other. Schopenhauer and Wagner, -two Germans, were his real masters, and remained so (he secretly avowed -it); his true disciples, if ever they were to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> exist, would be born in -Germany, that cruel Fatherland which he could not abjure.</p> - -<p>Thence he received a piece of news which moved him: Rohde was appointed -professor in the University of Leipsic. Nietzsche was happy for his -friend, and congratulated him in exquisite terms. Nevertheless, he -could not prevent himself from sadly drawing a personal moral. "At -present," he wrote to Peter Gast, "the Faculty of Philosophy is half -composed of my 'good friends' (Zarncke, Heinze, Leskien, Windisch, -Rohde, &c.)." Suddenly he wished to depart; he wanted to see his -mother, whom her two children had left; he wished to attend his old -comrade's course; lastly, he wished to confront those famous publishers -who printed twenty thousand volumes a year, and refused his own. He -left Venice and went straight to Leipsic.</p> - -<p>He stepped up to Rohde's rooms; the time was badly chosen. He found -a busy and preoccupied man, who received this unexpected visitor, -this too singular personage who had failed in life, with vexation and -constraint. "I saw Nietzsche," Rohde wrote later in a few lines in -which he explained his cold welcome. "All his person was marked with an -indescribable strangeness, and it disquieted me. There was about him -something that I had never known, and of the Nietzsche whom I had known -many features were effaced. He seemed to have come from an uninhabited -land." Nietzsche said: "I would like to hear you speak." Rohde brought -him, and put him to sit among young men who were ignorant of his work -and of his very name. Nietzsche listened, then went away. "I have heard -Rohde at the University," he wrote to his sister briefly. "I can no -longer communicate with any one. Leipsic is, it is clear, no place of -refuge or of repose for me."</p> - -<p>He would have fled from Leipsic, as he had fled from Venice and Nice; -but the difficulty of his negotiations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> obliged him to remain there. -He applied to various publishers, and applied in vain. Finally, his -dignity revolted. He wished his book to appear, and, however heavy the -cost, he resolved to pay out of his own pocket the cost of the printing.</p> - -<p>His mother was waiting for him at Naumburg, where since Lisbeth's -departure she lived alone. Nietzsche felt a very lively pity for her; -he knew her to be desolated by the loss of her family, and in despair -over the impieties which he published in his books. "Don't read them, -ignore them," he told her ceaselessly: "it is not for you that I -write." Nevertheless, she could not repress her curiosity, and her -discontent was never appeased. Nietzsche did not wish to leave without -giving her a little happiness. He went to spend a week at home; but he -had not the strength to keep the secret of his vexations to himself; -he bewailed himself, he grew exalted; he saddened the poor woman, whom -finally he left in a more unhappy condition than ever.</p> - -<p>Passing through Munich, he called on the Baron and Baroness von -Seydlitz. He wished to snatch a brief repose under the roof of his -amiable host; but Seydlitz was away from home, and his house was shut -up.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche, having left this Germany which he was never again to see, -continued on his road towards the Upper Engadine, from which he -always expected some benefit. Here in July he found himself among icy -fogs, and felt the first symptoms of a long crisis of neuralgia and -melancholy.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<h5>The Will to Power</h5> - -<p>Shall we say that he met friends? Is the word suitable to those vague -figures, to those Russian, English, Jewish, and Swiss women who, -seeing this charming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> man return each season, did not refuse him their -quick sympathy? We set down their names: Mesdames Röder and Marasoff; -Miss Zimmern and Fräulein von Salis Marschlins (this last a friend of -Fräulein von Meysenbug); others, whose names remain unknown, may be -guessed.</p> - -<p>How did they judge him? Carefully he avoided any speech that might have -pained or surprised them. He kept his dangerous thoughts to himself. -So far as they were concerned, he wished to be, and knew how to be, an -amiable companion ... learned, refined, and reserved. Still, whatever -secret he made of his work, his friends did not fail to get an inkling -into the mystery of his reserve. One of them, an Englishwoman in -delicate health, whom he often went to visit and distract, broached the -subject.</p> - -<p>"I know, Herr Nietzsche, why you won't let us see your books. If one -were to believe what you say in them, a poor, suffering creature like -myself would have no right to live."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche was apologetic, and warded off the accusation as best he -could.</p> - -<p>Another, having said to him one day: "I have been told about your -books. You've written in one of them, '<i>If thou goest among women, do -not forget thy whip.</i>'"</p> - -<p>"Dear lady, dear friend," answered Nietzsche, in a pained voice, taking -the hands of her who reproached him in his own; "do not misunderstand -me; it is not thus that I am to be understood."</p> - -<p>Did they admire him? To dare to admire an unrecognised author a very -sure judgment is needed; and no doubt they lacked in necessary daring. -They esteemed, they liked their hotel companion, and recognised his -singular genius in conversation; at the <i>table d'hôte</i> they looked -to have the place near his: little enough it seems<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> if one consider -his present fame; then it was a great deal to him. He recovered in -the Engadine, thanks to them, a little of the confidence which was -necessary to his soul and which he had been losing in Germany. During -the summer of 1886, some good musicians passed through Sils. In -Nietzsche they discovered a very rare listener, and they liked to be -heard by him. This courtesy touched him: "I notice," he wrote to Peter -Gast, "that our artists only sing and play for me. I should be greatly -spoilt if this continued."</p> - -<p>A certain Oriental story narrates the adventures of a masked sovereign -who travels in his provinces; he is not recognised but divined; an -instinct of respect awakes at his approach. In this mountain hotel, -does not Nietzsche appear as a masked, a half-divined sovereign?</p> - -<p>Nevertheless it was but a poor comfort. Could these women lighten a -distress which they could not measure? Nietzsche was traversing that -grave moment of life in which a man, however unwilling to be taught, -must learn at last what his fate with inexorable constancy gives and -refuses him; he had to tear his last hopes from his heart. "I have been -unspeakably sad in these latter days," he wrote to Peter Gast, "and -cares have deprived me of sleep." The information is brief. To his -sister he avows more; he addresses to her pages upon pages that are -terrible in their power and monotony.</p> - -<p>"Where are they, those old friends, with whom I formerly felt so -closely bound? We inhabit different worlds, we no longer speak the -same tongue! As a stranger, a proscribed man, I wander among them; -never a word, never a look now reaches me. I hold my peace—for none -understands my speech—ah, I can say it, they have never understood -me!... It is terrible to be condemned to silence, when one has so -many things to say. Am I created for solitude, never to find any -one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> with whom I may make myself understood? Incommunicability is in -truth the most awful of solitudes, to be <i>different,</i> to wear a mask -of brass harder than any mask of brass—perfect friendship is only -possible <i>inter pares. Inter pares!</i> a phrase which intoxicates me: -what confidence, what hope, what perfume, what beatitude it promises -the man who necessarily and constantly lives alone; to a man who is -<i>different</i>—who has never met any one of his race. And nevertheless -he is a good seeker; he has sought much. Ah, the swift folly of those -hours in which the solitary thinks he has found a friend, embraces him -and holds him in his arms; it is a present from heaven, an inestimable -gift. An hour later he rejects him with disgust, he rejects himself -with disgust, as though soiled, diminished, sick from his own society. -A <i>profound</i> man needs friends, unless indeed he has a God. And I have -neither God nor friend! Ah, my sister, those whom you call by this -name, once they were friends—but now?</p> - -<p>"Excuse this burst of passion; my last journey is the cause....</p> - -<p>"My health is neither good nor bad; it is only the poor soul which is -wounded and thirsting. Give me a little circle of men who will listen -to me and understand—and I am in good health.</p> - -<p>"Here everything takes its course; the two English-women and the old -Russian lady, the musician, have come back; the latter very ill...."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche now went on with his labours on the <i>Wille zur Macht.</i> His -unfortunate passage through Germany had modified his arrangements. He -thought: "What use is it my writing warlike books? Without allies, -without readers, I cannot prevent the abasement of Europe; let it -be brought about then. One day it will find its goal—a day which I -shall not see. Then my books will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> discovered, then I shall have -my readers. For them I should write, for them I should determine my -fundamental ideas. To-day, I cannot fight, for I have not enemies -even...." At the beginning of July, when leaving the Germany which had -tried him so hardly, he drew up a detailed plan. In September he wrote:</p> - -<p>"I announce, for the next four years, the completion of my work in four -volumes. The title alone is alarming: <i>The Will to Power, an essay -towards a Transvaluation of all Values.</i> For this all is necessary to -me—health, solitude, good humour—perhaps a wife <i>(eine Frau)</i> also."</p> - -<p>In what retirement should he compose this new work? Genoa had inspired -the two books which he wrote as a convalescent, <i>The Dawn of Day</i> and -<i>The Gay Science;</i> Rapallo, Nice, had inspired <i>Zarathustra.</i> He now -thought of Corsica. For long he had been curious about this savage -island, and, in the island itself, of a town, Corte—</p> - -<p>"There Napoleon was not born but—what is perhaps more -important—conceived, and is it not the clearly indicated spot in which -I should undertake the transvaluation of all values?... For me, too, -it is a <i>conception</i> that is in question."</p> - -<p>Alas! this Napoleonic work, the title of which alone should strike -terror, thus struck its author. Nietzsche was not unaware whither that -<i>"via mala des consequences"</i> which he had been long following led him. -Since a covetous, conquering force is at the heart of nature, every -act which does not correspond precisely with this force is inexact and -feeble. He said this, he wrote it, and such indeed was his thought: -man is never so great as when he combines an alertness and refinement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> -of mind with a certain native brutality and cruelty of instinct. Thus -the Greeks understood <i>virtu,</i> and the Italians <i>virtù.</i> The French -politicians, and, after them, Frederick II., Napoleon and Bismarck, -acted in accordance with these maxims. Troubled by his doubts, lost -in his problem, Nietzsche firmly grasped this fragmentary but certain -truth: <i>one must have the courage of psychological nudity,</i> he was -to write. He trained himself to it, but remained dissatisfied. His -mind was too clear, his soul too pensive, and this definition of the -strongest men was too curt and icy for his dreams. Formerly he had -chosen Schiller and Mazzini for masters. Did he admire them no longer? -No soul was ever as constant as his. Only he feared that, in following -them, he would gratify a certain feebleness, and the masters whom he -now wished to prefer were called Napoleon and Cæsar Borgia.</p> - -<p>On this occasion, too, he turned away from his task, shunning harsh -affirmations. The publisher Fritsch consented, on the condition that he -received pecuniary aid, to publish a second edition of the <i>Origin of -Tragedy, The Dawn of Day,</i> and <i>The Gay Science.</i> This had long been -one of Nietzsche's desires: he wished to add prefaces to these old -works, to touch them up, and perhaps to add to them. He undertook this -new work and became absorbed in it.</p> - -<p>Instead of going to Corsica he returned to the Genoese coast, to Ruta, -not far from Rapallo, above Portofino, which thrusts its wooded crest -out into the sea. Again he found the walks and familiar places in -which Zarathustra had spoken to him. How sad he had then been! He had -just lost his two last friends, Lou Salomé and Paul Rée. Nevertheless -he had continued his task and, indeed, created, at the moment of his -profoundest sorrow, his bravest book. Friedrich Nietzsche let himself -be stirred by these memories of the past.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> - -<p>He now received a letter which was the first sign of his coming fame. -In August, 1886, in despair of being listened to by his compatriots, -he had sent his book, <i>Beyond Good and Evil,</i> to two foreign readers, -to the Dane Georges Brandes, and to the Frenchman Hippolyte Taine. -Georges Brandes did not reply. Hippolyte Taine wrote (October 17, 1886) -a letter which gave Nietzsche some joy.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"On my return from a voyage, I found the book which you were good -enough to send me; as you say, it is full of 'thoughts from behind' -(<i>'pensées de derrière</i>'); the form, which is so lively, so literary, -the impassioned style, the often paradoxical turn, will open the eyes -of the reader who wants to understand; I will in particular recommend -to philosophers your first piece on philosophers and philosophy (pp. -14, 17, 20, 25); but the historians and critics will also have their -share in the booty of new ideas (for example 41, 75, 76, 149, 150, &c). -What you say of national genius and character in your eighth essay -is infinitely suggestive, and I shall re-read this piece, although I -find there a far too flattering word relative to myself. You do me a -great honour in your letter by putting me by the side of M. Burckhardt -of Basle, whom I greatly admire; I think that I was the first man in -France to announce in the press his great work upon the <i>Culture of the -Renaissance in Italy....</i> With best thanks, I am,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 55%;">"Yours sincerely,</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">"H. TAINE."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Paul Lanzky rejoined Friedrich Nietzsche at Ruta. Not having seen him -for eighteen months, he was struck by the change which he observed -in him. The body was weighed down, the features altered. But the man -remained the same; however bitter his life had become,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> he was still -affectionate and naïve, quick to laughter like a child. He brought -Lanzky up the mountain which gives at every instant such magnificent -views over the snowy Alps and the sea. The two rested in the most -beautiful spots; then they gathered up bits of old timber and twigs -from the autumn vines and lit fires, Nietzsche saluting the flames and -the rising smoke with cries of joy.</p> - -<p>It was then, it was in this inn at Ruta, that Nietzsche drew up -the prefaces to <i>The Dawn of Day</i> and <i>The Gay Science,</i> in which -he recounted with so strange a vivacity his spiritual <i>Odyssey:</i> -Triebschen and Wagner's friendship; Metz and the discovery of war; -Bayreuth, hope and mishap; the rupture with Richard Wagner; the -bruising of his love; the cruel years which he spent deprived of poetry -and of art; finally Italy, which gave him back both; Venice and Genoa, -the two towns which saved him, and the Ligurian coast, Zarathustra's -cradle.</p> - -<p>While Nietzsche wrote thus and struggled against depression, may it not -be that he was taking drugs to excite himself to work? There is some -evidence to suggest it. But we shall never have exact information on -this point. We know that he was absorbing chloral and an extract of -Indian hemp which, in small doses, produced an inward calm; in large -doses, excitement. Perhaps he handled a more complicated pharmacopoeia -in secret; it is the habit of nervous persons.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche liked this coast. "Imagine," he wrote to Peter -Gast, "a little island in the Greek archipelago, pushed down here by -the winds. It is a coast of pirates, swift, deceitful, dangerous...." -He proposed to pass the winter there. But soon he modified his plans, -and wished to return to Nice. Lanzky sought in vain to keep him back.</p> - -<p>"You complain of being abandoned," he said to him. "Whose fault is it? -You have disciples and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> discourage them. You call me here, you call -Peter Gast; and you leave."</p> - -<p>"I need the light, the air of Nice," answered Nietzsche; "I need the -Bay of the Angels."</p> - -<p>He went alone. During this winter, he completed his prefaces, he -re-read and touched-up his books. He lived, it seems, in a singular -condition of relaxation, indecision and melancholy. He sent his -manuscripts to Peter Gast, as he always did, but his requests for -advice have an unusual accent of unrest and humility. "Bead me," he -wrote in February, 1887, "with more distrust than you generally do; say -simply: this will do, this won't do I like this, why not alter that, -&c., &c."</p> - -<p>He read, and his readings seemed guided by a queer curiosity and less -under the rigorous sway of his prejudices.</p> - -<p>He familiarised himself with the works of the French decadents. He -appreciated Baudelaire's writings on Richard Wagner, Paul Bourget's -<i>Essais de Psychologie Contemporaine.</i> He read the <i>Contes</i> of -Maupassant and admired this "great Latin." He ran through some volumes -by Zola and did not allow himself to be seduced by a merely popular -style of thought, by a merely decorative art. He bought, and commented -in pencil on the margin, the <i>Esquisse d'une Morale sans obligation -ni sanction.</i> Guyau, like Nietzsche and at the same moment, had had -the idea of founding a system of morals on the expansive modalities -of life. But he understood them in another sense and interpreted as -a force of love what Nietzsche understood as a conquering force. -Nevertheless the initial agreement was certain. Nietzsche valued -highly the purity and intelligence of idea which he found in the work -of the French philosopher. The vogue of the Russian novelists was -then beginning. Nietzsche took an interest in these poets of a young, -violent, and sensitive race, whose charm he always felt. "Do you know -Dostoievsky?" he wrote to Peter Gast. "No one, with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> exception of -Stendhal, has so satisfied and ravished me. There is a psychologist -with whom I am in agreement!" He indicated the new author to all -his correspondents. The religious fervour of the Slavs interested -him and found him indulgent. It was not a symptom of weakness, he -thought; it was the return of an energy which could not accept the -cold constraints of modern society and whose insubordination took -the form of a revolutionary Christianity. These barbarians, thwarted -in their instincts, were disconcerted and self-accusatory; they had -precipitated a crisis which was still undecided, and Nietzsche wrote: -"This bad conscience is a malady, but a malady of the nature of -pregnancy." For, hoping always, he obstinately defended his thoughts -against his disgusts. He wished his thoughts to remain free, kindly and -confident, and when there rose within him and towards them a hatred of -Europe and of its debased peoples; when he feared that he might yield -to his bitter humour, he corrected himself at once: "No," he kept on -saying, "Europe is at present richer than ever in men, in ideas, in -aspirations, better prepared for great tasks, and we must, contrary to -all semblance, hope everything from these multitudes, though their ugly -disposition seems to forbid hope."</p> - -<p>During these early months of 1887, Friedrich Nietzsche became intimate -with a certain Madame V. P. They went together to San Remo and Monte -Carlo. We do not know this woman's name; we have no letter, either -written by her or addressed to her. We may infer some mystery, perhaps -a mystery of love.</p> - -<p>Madame V. P. was no doubt Nietzsche's companion<a name="FNanchor_2_20" id="FNanchor_2_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_20" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> when he heard the -prelude to <i>Parsifal</i> at the concerts in the Casino at Monte Carlo. -He listened without any bitterness, with the sudden indulgence of a -worn-out adversary. "I loved Wagner," he wrote in September to Peter -Gast; "I still love him." Assuredly he still loved him, when he could -speak as he did of this symphony which he had just heard.</p> - -<p>"I do not seek to know whether this art can or should serve some end," -he wrote to Peter Gast, "I ask myself: Has Wagner ever done better? -And I find this: the most exact conscience and psychological precision -in the manner of relating, expressing, and communicating emotion; the -shortest and most direct form; every nuance of sentiment defined with -an almost epigrammatical brevity: such descriptive clearness that -in listening to this music one thinks of some buckler of marvellous -workmanship; lastly, a sentiment, a musical experience of a soul which -is extraordinary and sublime; a "haughtiness," in the formidable -meaning of the word;... a sympathy, a penetration, which enters like a -knife into the soul—and a pity for what he has discovered and judged -at the bottom of that soul. Such beauties one finds in Dante and -nowhere else. What painter has ever painted so melancholy a look of -love as Wagner in the last accents of his prelude?"</p> - -<p>How easy it would have been for him to be a great critic, equal in his -delicacy, superior in the largeness of his views, to that Sainte-Beuve -whom he esteemed so highly! He knew it, and found it hard to resist -the seductions of that "dilettantism of analysis"—the expression is -his own. His best readers of ten remarked this. "What a historian -you are!" Burckhardt used to say, and Hippolyte Taine repeated it. -It did not satisfy Nietzsche. He despised the calling of historian -or of critic. He was informed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> a young German whom he met at Nice -that the professors of Tübingen took him as a merely dissolvent mind, -radical and nihilistic; it saddened him. He had not torn himself -from the romanticism of pity and love to sink at last in the inverse -romanticism of violence and energy. He admired Stendhal, but did not -intend to be a Stendhalian. The Christian belief had nourished his -infancy, the disciplines of Pforta had ripened it, Pythagoras, Plato, -Wagner had increased, elevated his desires. He wished to be a poet and -a moralist, an inventor of virtues, venerations, and serenities: none -of his readers, none of his friends, had understood this intention. In -correcting the proofs of <i>The Dawn of Day,</i> he re-read this old page, -the truth of which still held good.</p> - -<p>"We are still on our knees before power—according to the old custom -of slaves—and yet, when the degree of <i>venerability</i> shall have to be -fixed, only the degree of <i>rationality in power</i> will be decisive; we -have to investigate to what extent power has indeed been overcome by -something higher of which it is now the tool and instrument. But as yet -there is an absolute lack of eyes for such investigations; nay, in most -cases the appraisement of genius is even considered a crime. And thus -perhaps the most beautiful of all spectacles still takes place in the -dark and, after bursting into bloom, soon fades into perpetual night—I -mean the spectacle of that power which a man of genius employs, not -in his works, but in the development of himself, regarded as a work, -that is, in the task of self-mastery, in the purification of his -imagination, in his deliberate choice and ordering of the course of his -tasks and inspirations. And yet the great man is still invisible in the -greatest thing which claims worship, invisible like a distant star; his -triumph over power continues to be without eyes, hence also without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> -song and poets. As yet the order of greatness has not been settled for -the sum total of human history...."</p> - -<p>Alas, for victory over force, one must possess some exterior force, -reason or faith. Nietzsche, denying to the one or to the other all -their rights, has disarmed himself for the combat.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>At the beginning of March a violent earthquake terrified the -cosmopolitan <i>flaneurs</i> of Nice. Friedrich Nietzsche admired these -movements of nature which reminded man of his nothingness. Two years -earlier the catastrophe of Krakatoa, which destroyed two thousand -human beings in Java, had filled him with enthusiasm. "It's grand," -he said to Lanzky, whom he had asked to read the telegrams to him; -"two thousand human beings annihilated at a stroke! It's magnificent. -This is how humanity should come to its end—how one day it will end." -And he hoped that a tidal wave would at least do away with Nice and -its peoples. "But," observed Lanzky, "we should be done away with -ourselves." "What matter!" answered Nietzsche. His almost realised -desire amused him. He did not advance his departure by a single day.</p> - -<p>"Hitherto," he wrote on March 7th, "among these thousands of people in -a condition of folly, I have lived with a sentiment of irony and cold -curiosity. But one cannot answer for oneself; perhaps to-morrow I shall -be as unreasonable as any one. Here there is an <i>imprévu</i> which has its -charm."</p> - -<p>By the middle of March he would have ended his work on the prefaces; -and, as he says in one of them: "What do Herr Nietzsche, his illnesses -and recoveries, matter to us? Let us speak frankly, let us go straight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> -to the problem." Yes, surely, let us go straight to the problem; -determine, among the many ends which men propose to themselves, those -which truly elevate and ennoble them; succeed at last in gaining our -<i>triumph over power. </i> On March 17th he sketched out a plan:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -First Book: <i>European Nihilism.</i><br /> -Second Book: <i>Criticism of Superior Values.</i><br /> -Third Book: <i>Principle of a New Evaluation.</i><br /> -Fourth Book: <i>Discipline and Selection.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>He had sketched a very similar programme in July, 1886: two books of -analysis and criticism; two books of doctrine and affirmation; in all -four books—four volumes.</p> - -<p>Every springtime brought him back to a condition of uncertainty and -uneasiness; between Nice and the Engadine; he did not know where to -find an air which should be bright enough and not too warm; a fine -light that would not hurt his eyes. In this year, 1887, he let himself -be tempted by the Italian lakes, and, leaving Nice, set out for Lake -Maggiore. This midget Mediterranean, enclosed in the mountains, pleased -him infinitely at first. "This place strikes me as more beautiful than -any part of the Mediterranean," he wrote, "and more moving—how is -it that I took so many years to discover it? The sea, like all huge -things, has something stupid and indecent which will not be found -here." He corrected the proofs of the <i>Gaya Scienza;</i> he re-read -<i>Human, Too Human,</i> and again paused to contemplate with pity his -unrecognised work.</p> - -<p>But he recovered possession of himself. The coming work alone mattered. -He forced himself to recommence his meditations, and at once became -enervated and exhausted. He had planned a visit to Venice; suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> he -gave it up. "My health is against it," he wrote to Peter Gast. "I am -unworthy of seeing such beautiful things."</p> - -<p>From aggravation of ennui, an epistolary quarrel arose between Erwin -Rohde and himself. He had occasion to write a word to the most -intimate friend of past days, and could not resist the pleasure of -adding a malicious touch. "I suit old people only," he wrote; "Taine, -Burckhardt, and even you are not old enough for me...." Erwin Rohde -did not like this touch. A professor, whereas Nietzsche was nothing; a -scholar with a reputation among European scholars, whereas Nietzsche -was still unknown despite his eccentric books, he would not permit -irreverence, and defended his dignity. His letter must have been -strongly worded, for he had it restored to him later, and destroyed it.</p> - -<p>This misadventure tried Nietzsche. His health was in every respect -impaired; he resolved to follow a régime of waters, massage and baths, -in a special establishment in Switzerland, at Coire. He went there, and -surrendered himself to the doctors.</p> - -<p>He kept on working, however, and made an energetic effort to discover -and define the moral values which he wished to propound. But in vain; -do what he would, the problem of his third book—<i>Principle of a New -Evaluation</i>—remained unsolved. "We may here transcribe the more -precise definition with which we are furnished by another draft.</p> - -<p>"<i>Third Book:</i> the problem of the legislator. To bind anew the -unregulated energies in such a manner that they are not mutually -annihilated by running foul of one another; to mark the <i>real -augmentation</i> of force."</p> - -<p>What does this mean? What real augmentation, what real direction of -things is indicated us by these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> words? Is it an augmentation of -intensity? Then every shade of energy, provided it be intense, will -be good. But we must not take it in this sense. Nietzsche selected, -preferred, excluded. This augmentation is then the sign of an order, of -a natural hierarchy. But in every hierarchy there must be a criterion -by which the ranks are distributed; what should this criterion be? -Nietzsche would formerly have said: It will be my logical affirmation, -the beliefs which I shall have given. Does he still think it? -Doubtless; his thoughts hardly vary. But his audacity was lessened -by his sorrows, his critical mind had been rendered more exacting by -long indecisions. He desired, he sought, he seemed to ask science, the -"doctor-philosopher," for a real basis which all his habits of thought -refused him.</p> - -<p>Mournful news completed the ruin of his courage. Heinrich von Stein -died, before his thirtieth year, of a heart failure.</p> - -<p>"This has put me out of my senses," wrote Nietzsche to Peter Gast; "I -truly loved him. I always thought that he was reserved for me some day. -He belonged to that little number of men whose <i>existence</i> rejoiced -me; and he too had great confidence in me.... In this very place how -we laughed!... He paid a two days' visit to Sils, he had not a glance -for Nature or Switzerland—he came straight from Bayreuth; he went back -straight to Halle, to his father;—one of the rarest and most delicate -homages I have ever received. It made an impression. He had said at the -hotel: 'If I come, it is not for the Engadine.'"</p> - -<p>Three weeks passed. He complained of bitter inclinations, of -susceptibility which lowered his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> soul. Nevertheless, he announced a -new work. What was it?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>It is not <i>The Will to Power.</i> His impatience, which is added to by -fatigue, does not easily bend to the delays of meditation. Of his old -gifts, his genius for improvising, his polemical genius alone survive. -Herr Widmann, a Swiss critic, had just written a study on <i>Beyond Good -and Evil</i> and saw in this work but a manual of anarchism: "This is -dynamite," he said. Friedrich Nietzsche wished to reply, and at once -drew up at a spurt in fifteen days one, two, three short essays which -he entitled as a whole, <i>A Genealogy of Morals.</i> "This work," he wrote -on the title-page, "is destined to complete and elucidate my last book, -<i>Beyond Good and Evil.</i>"</p> - -<p>"I have said," he wrote in substance, "that I place myself beyond Good -and Evil—<i>Gut und Böse.</i> Does this mean that I wish to liberate myself -from every moral category? No. I challenge the exaltation of meekness -which is called good; the defamation of energy which is called bad; but -the history of the human conscience—do the moralists know that such -a history exists?—displays to us a multitude of other moral values, -other ways of being good, other ways of being bad, numerous shades of -honour and of dishonour. Even here the reality is moving, initiative is -free; one must seek, one must create."</p> - -<p>But Nietzsche developed his thought further: "I have wished," he wrote -some months later à propos of this little book, "I have wished to fire -a cannon-shot with more sonorous powder." He exposed the distinction -between the two moralities, the one dictated by the masters, the other -by the slaves; and he thought to recognise in the verbal roots of the -words "good" and "evil," their old meaning. <i>Bonus, buonus,</i> said he, -comes from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> <i>duonus,</i> which signifies warrior; <i>malus</i> comes from -μέλας, black: the blonde Aryans, the ancestors of the Greek, -indicated by this word the type of conduct habitual to their slaves -and subjects, the Mediterraneans crossed with Negro and Semitic blood. -These primitive notions of what is noble and what is vile, Friedrich -Nietzsche does not challenge.</p> - -<p>On the 18th of July, writing from Sils-Maria, he announced the new work -to Peter Gast.</p> - -<p>"I have energetically employed these last days, which were better," he -wrote. "I have drawn up a little piece of work which, as I think, puts -the problem of my last book in a clear light. Every one has complained -of not having understood me; and the hundred copies sold do not permit -me to doubt that in effect I am not understood. You know that for three -years I have spent about 500 thalers to defray the cost of my books; -no honorarium, it goes without saying, and I am 43 years old, and I -have written fifteen books! Further: experience, and many applications, -more painful to me than I care to say, force me to certify, as a fact, -that no German editor wants to have anything to do with me (even if -I abandon my author's rights). Perhaps this little book which I am -completing to-day will help to sell some copies of my last book (it -always pains me to think of the poor Fritzsch on whom all the weight of -my work rests). Perhaps my publishers will some day benefit from me. As -for myself, I know only too well that when people begin to understand -me, <i>I shall not benefit from it.</i>"</p> - -<p>On the 20th of July, he despatched the manuscript to the publisher. -On the 24th July, he called it back by telegram in order to add a -few features, a few pages. All his summer was spent in discomfort, -melancholy, and the correction of his book, which he never ceased to -touch up,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> to draw out, to render more violent and more alive. Towards -the end of August, perceiving an empty space on the last page of the -first section, Nietzsche added this curious note, in which he indicated -the unstudied problems which he was to have neither strength nor time -to attack.</p> - -<p>"<i>Remark.</i>—I take the opportunity presented by this essay to express -publicly and formally a wish which, so far, I have only mentioned -occasionally to certain scholars, in chance conversations. Some Faculty -of Philosophy ought, by a series of academical prize-dissertations, to -further studies in the <i>history of morality;</i> perhaps this book will -serve to give a vigorous impetus in this direction. I would propose the -following question:</p> - -<p>"<i>What hints are furnished by philology, more especially by -etymological research, with reference to the history of the development -of moral concepts?</i></p> - -<p>"On the other hand it will be as necessary to interest physiologists -and doctors in these problems. In fact and above all, all tables of -values, every 'thou shalt' known to history and ethnological research, -need to be explained and elucidated in the first place from their -<i>physiological</i> side, before any attempt is made to interpret them -through psychology.... The question: What is this or that table of -values and morality <i>worth?</i> must be considered from the most varied -perspectives. Especially 'the worth for what?' must be considered with -extraordinary discernment and delicacy. A thing, for instance, which -has evident value with reference to the greatest durability of a race -might possess quite another value, if it were a question of creating -a higher type. The good of the greatest number and the good of the -smallest number are antithetical points of view in valuation; we shall -let the simplicity of English biologists suppose that the former is -<i>by itself</i> of higher value. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> sciences must prepare the way for -the philosopher of the future, whose task will consist in solving the -<i>problem of values</i> and determining <i>their hierarchy</i>."</p> - -<p>September came. The proofs were corrected, the Engadine became cold. -The wandering philosopher had to find new quarters and new work.</p> - -<p>"To tell the truth," he wrote to Peter Gast, "I hesitate between Venice -and Leipsic; I should go there to work, I still have a lot to learn, -many questions to ask and much to read for the great thought of my -life of which I must now acquit myself. It would not be a matter of -an autumn, but of a <i>whole winter</i> spent in Germany. And, weighing -everything together, my health dissuades me very strongly from essaying -a like experience this year. It will be then Venice or Nice; and from -a quite personal point of view, that is better perhaps. Moreover, I -need solitude and contemplation rather than study and inquiry into five -thousand problems."</p> - -<p>Peter Gast was at Venice, and Venice, as one might have foreseen, -carried the day. Nietzsche lived for some weeks, a <i>flaneur</i> and all -but happy, in the town with a "hundred profound solitudes." He scarcely -wrote: his days, according to Peter Gast, were idle or seemed to be -so. It was not to shut himself up in a room in Venice that he gave up -the libraries of Leipsic. He walked, frequented the poor "trattoria," -where at midday the humblest, the most courteous of lower classes sit -down to eat; when the light was too strong he went to rest his eyes in -the shade of the basilica; when day began to decline he recommenced -his perpetual walks. Then he could look at St. Mark, with its flocks -of familiar pigeons, without suffering, at the lagoon with its islands -and temples. He kept on thinking of his work. He imagined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> it logical -and free, simple in its plan, numerous in its details, luminous with -a little mystery, a little shade on every line; he wished in short -that it should resemble that city which he loved, that Venice whose -sovereign will allied itself to the play of all fantasy and grace.</p> - -<p>Let us read this page of notes, written in November, 1887; L'<i>Ombra di -Venezia,</i> is it not obvious there?</p> - -<p>"<i>A perfect</i> book to consider:</p> - -<p>"(1) Form. Style. <i>An ideal monologue,</i> all that has a learned -appearance, absorbed in the depths. All the accents of profound -passion, of unrest and also of weakness. Alleviations, sun tasks—short -happiness, sublime serenity. To go beyond demonstration; to be -absolutely personal, without employing the first person. Memoirs as -it were; to say the most abstract things in the most concrete, in the -most cutting manner. The whole history as if it had been <i>lived</i> and -<i>personally suffered.</i> Visible things, precise things, examples, as -many as possible. No description; all the problems transposed into -sentiment as far as passion.</p> - -<p>"(2) Expressive terms. Advantage of military terms. To find expressions -to replace philosophical terms."</p> - -<p>On the 22nd of October he was at Nice.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>Two events (the word is assuredly not too strong) occupied the first -two weeks of his stay. He lost his oldest friend; he acquired a reader.</p> - -<p>The lost friend was Erwin Rohde. The quarrel begun in the previous -spring was then consummated. Nietzsche wrote to Rohde, and his first -intention was not to wound. "Do not withdraw from me too lightly," he -wrote in announcing the despatch of his last book, <i>The Genealogy of -Morals;</i> "at my age and in my solitude I can hardly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> bear to lose the -few men in whom I formerly confided." But he could not limit himself to -these words. He had received a second note, a very amiable one, from -Hippolyte Taine,<a name="FNanchor_3_21" id="FNanchor_3_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_21" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> whom Erwin Rohde had criticised disrespectfully in -his letter of May. Nietzsche wished to defend his French correspondent, -and continued:</p> - -<p>"N.B.—I beg that you judge M. Taine more sensibly. The scurrilities -that you express and think about him irritate me. I pardon them to the -prince Napoleon, not to friend Rohde. It is difficult to me to think -that any one who misunderstands this great-hearted and severe-minded -race can understand anything of my task. Besides, you have never -written me a word which shows that you have the least suspicion of the -destiny which weighs me down. I have forty-three years behind me and am -as alone as if I were a child."</p> - -<p>All relations were broken off.</p> - -<p>The new reader acquired was Georges Brandes, who acknowledged the -despatch of the <i>Genealogy</i> in an extraordinarily intelligent and vivid -letter.</p> - -<p>"I get the breath of a new mind from your books," he wrote: "I do not -always entirely understand what I read, I do not always see whither -you are bound, but many features are in accord with my thoughts -and sympathies; like you I hold the ascetic ideal in poor esteem; -democratic mediocrity inspires in me, as in you, a profound repugnance; -I appreciate your aristocratic radicalism. I am not quite clear with -regard to your contempt for the ethic of pity ...</p> - -<p>"Of you I know nothing. I see with astonishment that you are a -professor. In any case I offer you my best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> compliments on being, -intellectually, so little of a professor.... You are of the small -number of men with whom I would like to talk."</p> - -<p>It would seem as if Nietzsche ought to have felt very strongly the -comfort of having found two witnesses to his work, and of so rare a -quality: Brandes and Taine. Did he not learn, about this time, that -Brahms was reading <i>Beyond, Good and Evil</i> with much relish? But the -iron had entered into his soul, and the faculty of receiving happy -impressions was, as it were, extinguished in him. He had lost that -interior joy, that resistant serenity of which he was formerly so -proud, and his letters displayed only melancholy.</p> - -<p>With this disaster there survived the activity of his mind alone, -which worked with singular energy. We can with difficulty enumerate -the objects which occupied his attention. Peter Gast transcribed his -<i>Hymn to Life</i> for the orchestra; Nietzsche superintended, sometimes -corrected, always naïvely admired, this new form of his work.</p> - -<p>The journal of the Goncourts appeared; he read this "very interesting -novelty," and sat down to table at Magny's with Flaubert, Sainte-Beuve, -Gautier, Taine, Gavarri and Renan. All these distractions did not -prevent him from embarking resolutely on his new work, the decisive -work in which his wisdom and not his rage would speak; the calm work -in which polemics would be without rights. He defined in six lines the -design which he had formed.</p> - -<p>"To have run through every chamber of the modern soul, to have eaten -in each of its corners: my pride, my torture, and my joy. To transcend -pessimism effectively, and, in short, a Goethean regard full of love -and good-will."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche in this note designated the inspirer of his last -work; it was to be Goethe. No nature differed so much from his own, and -this very difference determined his choice. Goethe had humiliated no -mode of human activity, he had excluded no idea from his intellectual -world; he had received and administered as a benevolent lord the -immense heritage of human culture. Such was Friedrich Nietzsche's last -ideal, his last dream. He wished, in this extremity of life (he knew -his destiny), to spread, like the sinking sun, his softest lights; to -penetrate everywhere, to justify and illumine everything, so that not -one shadow should exist upon the surface of things, not one sorrow in -the privacy of souls.</p> - -<p>He easily determined the directing ideas of his first two volumes: -<i>European Nihilism, The Criticism of Higher Values.</i> For four years -he had not written a line which was not a part of this analysis or -criticism. He wrote rapidly, angrily. "A little fresh air," he cried; -"this absurd state of Europe cannot last much longer." It was only a -cry, and very quickly suppressed. Nietzsche put patience behind him, -like a weakness; with a song of love that he would answer the attacks -of life. He wished to return, and did, in fact, return, to calmer -thoughts. He put this question: "Is it true that the condition of -Europe is absurd? Perhaps a reason for the facts exists, and escapes -us. Perhaps in this debility of the will, in this democratic abasement, -one should rightly recognise a certain utility, a certain value of -conservation. They seem irrepressible; perhaps they are necessary, -perhaps in the long run salutary, though to-day, and, so far as we are -concerned, they must be deplored.</p> - -<p>"<i>Reflexion:</i> It is madness to suppose that all this victory of values -can be anti-biological; one must seek to explain it by a <i>vital</i> -interest for the maintenance of the type <i>man,</i> even though it must -be attained by the preponderance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> of the feeble and the disinherited. -Perhaps if things went differently, man would cease to exist?—Problem.</p> - -<p>"The elevation of the type is dangerous to the conservation of the -species. Why?</p> - -<p>"The strong races are the prodigal races.... Here we are confronted by -a problem of economy...."</p> - -<p>He repressed all disgust, refused to allow himself the use of abusive -speech, tried to consider, and did consider, serenely, those tendencies -which he condemned. He asked: Must we deny to the masses the right to -seek their truths, their vital beliefs? The masses are the basis of -all humanity, the foundation of all cultures. Without them, what would -become of the masters? They require that the masses be happy. We must -be patient; we must suffer our insurgent slaves (for the moment our -masters) to invent the illusions which are favourable to them. Let them -believe in the dignity of work! If they thus become more docile in -work, their belief is salutary.</p> - -<p>"The problem," he writes, "is to render man as utilisable as possible, -and make him approximate, as far as may be done, as closely as possible -to the machine which never makes a mistake; for this, he must be armed -with the virtues of the machine, he must be taught to endure ennui, to -lend to ennui a superior charm ...; the <i>agreeable</i> sentiments must -be put back to a lower rank.... The mechanical form of existence, -considered as the noblest, the highest, should adore itself.</p> - -<p>"A high culture can only be raised on a vast site, over a firm and -well-consolidated mediocrity....</p> - -<p>"The sole end must, for a long while yet, be the <i>lessening</i> of man: -for there must first be created a large foundation on which the race of -strong men may be raised....</p> - -<p>"The <i>lessening</i> of the European man is the great process which may -not be impeded; it should be accelerated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> again. It is the active -force which allows one to hope for the arrival of a stronger race, of -a race which should possess to excess those very qualities which the -impoverished species lack (will, responsibility, certitude, the faculty -of fixing an end for oneself)."</p> - -<p>Thus at the end of 1887, Nietzsche had succeeded in drawing up a first -sketch of the work of synthesis which he had proposed to himself. He -concedes a certain right, a certain dignity, to those motives which he -formerly reviled. The final rough drafts of <i>Zarathustra</i> had already -given us similar indications. "The disciples of Zarathustra," wrote -Nietzsche, "give to the humblest, not to themselves, the expectation -of happiness. ... They distribute religions and systems, according to -a hierarchy." Nietzsche now writes, and the intention is similar: "The -humanitarian tendencies are not anti-vital, they suit the masses who -live slowly, and thus suit humanity which needs the satisfaction of the -masses. The Christian tendencies are also benevolent, and nothing is so -desirable," writes Nietzsche, "as their permanence; for they suit all -those who suffer, all the feeble, and it is necessary for the health -of human societies that suffering, that inevitable weaknesses, be -accepted without revolt, with submission, and, if possible, with love." -"Whatever I may happen to say of Christianity," wrote Nietzsche in 1881 -to Peter Gast, "I cannot forget that I owe to it the best experiences -of my spiritual life; and I hope never to be ungrateful to it at the -bottom of my heart." This thought, this hope, has never left him; and -he rejoices to have found a word of justice for the religion of his -childhood, the only one which still offers itself to souls.</p> - -<p>On December 14, 1887, he addressed a letter to an old correspondent of -the Basle days, Carl Fuchs. The accent is a proud one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Almost all that I have written should be erased. During these latter -years the vehemence of my internal agitations has been terrible. -To-day, at the moment when I should be rising higher, my first task is -to modify myself, to <i>depersonalise</i> myself towards higher forms.</p> - -<p>"Am I old? I do not know, and moreover I do not know what kind of youth -is necessary to me.</p> - -<p>"In Germany, people complain strongly of my 'eccentricities.' But as -they do not know where my centre is, they can hardly discern when or -how I happen to be eccentric."</p> - -<p>From the dates of his notes, it seems that Nietzsche approached -a different problem in the month of January, 1888. Those humble -multitudes whose rights he admits and measures would not deserve to -live, if their activity were not, in the last instance, governed by an -élite, utilised for glorious ends. What would be the virtues of this -élite, what ends would it serve? Nietzsche was thus brought back to the -problem which was his torment. Would he define at length this unknown, -and perhaps unattainable grandeur, towards which his soul had for so -long aspired? He was again a prey to sadness. He complained of his -sensibility, of his irritability, which had become such that each day, -on the arrival of the post, he hesitated and shivered before opening -his letters.</p> - -<p>"Never has life appeared so difficult to me," he wrote to Peter Gast on -January 15th. "I can no longer keep on terms with any sort of reality: -when I do not succeed in forgetting them, they break me.... There are -nights when I am overwhelmed with distress. And so much remains to be -done—all, so to say!—Therefore I must hold out. To this wisdom I -apply myself, at least in the mornings. Music, these days,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> gives me -sensations which I had never known. It frees me, it lets me recover -from the intoxication of myself; I seem to consider myself from a -great height, to <i>feel</i> myself from a great height; thus it renders -me stronger, and regularly, after an evening's music (I have heard -<i>Carmen</i> four times), I have a morning full of energetic perceptions -and lucky discoveries. It is quite admirable. It is as though I had -bathed myself in a <i>more natural</i> element. Without music life is merely -a mistake, a weariness, an exile."</p> - -<p>Let us try to follow the course of his work. He subjected himself to -an historical research and attempted to discover the social class, the -nation, the race or the party which authorised the hope of a more noble -humanity. Here was the modern European:</p> - -<p>"How could a race of strong men disengage itself from it? a race -with the classical taste? The classical taste, that is, the will to -simplification, to accentuation ... the courage of psychological -nudity.... To raise oneself from this chaos to this organisation, one -must be constrained by a <i>necessity.</i> One must be without choice; -disappear or impose oneself. A dominant race can only have terrible and -violent origins. Problem: where are the <i>barbarians</i> of the twentieth -century? Evidently they will only be able to appear and impose -themselves after huge socialistic crises—these will be the elements -most capable of the most persistent hardness in respect of themselves, -and who will be able to become the guarantees of <i>the most persistent -will.</i>"</p> - -<p>Is it possible to discern in modern Europe these elements predestined -to victory? Nietzsche busied himself with this problem, and wrote down -the results of his researches in his notebook.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The most favourable impediments and remedies against modernity.</p> - -<p>"And first:</p> - -<p>"1. <i>Obligatory military service,</i> with genuine wars which put an end -to all lightness of mind.</p> - -<p>"2. <i>National narrowness</i> which simplifies and concentrates."</p> - -<p>Other indications corroborate the above.</p> - -<p>"The maintenance of the <i>military state,</i> which is the only means left -to us, whether for the maintenance of the great traditions, or for the -institution of the superior type of man. And all circumstances which -perpetuate unfriendliness, distance between states, find themselves -thus justified."</p> - -<p>What an unforeseen conclusion to Nietzschean polemics! He had -dishonoured nationalism; and for the support which he sought in this -grave hour he fell back on nationalism. A yet more unexpected discovery -was to come. Nietzsche, proceeding with his researches, foresaw, -defined, and approved of a party which can be but a form or a reform of -Positivist democracy. He discerned the lineaments of the two vigorous -and sane groupings which suffice to discipline man.</p> - -<p>"<i>A party of peace,</i> not sentimental, which denies war to itself and -its members, which also denies them recourse to the courts of law; -which provokes against itself, struggle, contradiction, persecution: -a party of the oppressed, at least for a time; soon the great party -opposed to sentiments of rancour and vengeance.</p> - -<p>"A <i>party of war,</i> which with the same logic and severity against -itself, proceeds in an opposite sense."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> - -<p>Should we recognise in these two parties the organised forces -which will produce that <i>tragical era of Europe</i> which Nietzsche -announces? Perhaps; but let us be careful not to exaggerate the -value of these notes. They are rapidly written; as they surged and -passed in Nietzsche's mind, they should surge and pass before us. His -view pierces in every direction: it never settles upon one object. -No working-class Puritanism can satisfy him, for he knows that the -brilliancy of human culture stands or falls with the freedom of the -aristocracies. No nationalism can satisfy him, for he loves Europe and -her innumerable traditions.</p> - -<p>What resource is left to him? He has bound himself to seek in his -own time the points of support for a higher culture. For a moment he -thinks he has found them; he has deceived himself, and turns away, -for these supports impose a narrowness of direction which his mind -cannot tolerate. "There is this that is extraordinary in the life of a -thinker," he wrote in 1875—the age of the text proves the permanence -of the conflict—" that two contrary inclinations oblige him to follow, -at the same moment, two different directions and hold him under their -yokes; on the one hand he wishes to know and, abandoning without -weariness the firm ground which sustains the life of men, he adventures -into unknown regions; on the other hand he wishes to live, and, without -ever wearying, he seeks a place in which to five...." Nietzsche had -abandoned Wagner, wandered in uncertain regions. He seeks a final -security; what does he find? The narrow refuge of nationalism. He -withdraws from it: it may be a vulgar recourse, a useful artifice for -maintaining some solidity in the crowds, a certain principle of taste -and of severity; it may not be, it must not be, the doctrine of the -European élite, a scattered and, no doubt, non-existent élite to whom -his thoughts are addressed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> - -<p>Nietzsche put the idea of nationalism out of his mind; it was the -expedient of a weak century. He ceased to devote himself to his -search. What mattered to him the beliefs which should be beneficent to -the humble? He thought of Napoleon and of Goethe, both of whom rose -superior to their times, and to the prejudices of their countries. -Napoleon was contemptuous of the Revolution, but artfully turned its -energy to advantage; he despised France, but ruled her. Goethe held -Germany in poor esteem and took little interest in her struggles: he -wished to possess and reanimate all the ideas, all the dreams of men, -to conserve and enrich the vast heritage of moral riches which Europe -had created. Napoleon knew the grandeur of Goethe, and Goethe joyfully -observed the life of the conqueror, <i>ens realissimum.</i> The soldier, -the poet, the one who kept men in submission and silence, held them -to effort, the other who watched, meditated, and glorified, such is -the ideal couple that reappear at every decisive instant in Friedrich -Nietzsche's life. He had admired the Greece of Theognis and Pindar, -the Germany of Bismarck and Wagner; a long winding course led him -back towards his dream, towards that unrealised Europe of strength -and beauty of which Goethe and Napoleon were, upon the morrow of the -Revolution, the solitary representatives.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>We can tell, from a letter addressed to Peter Gast (February 13, 1887), -that Nietzsche was at this date by no means satisfied with his work. "I -am still in the tentative, the introductory, the expectant stage ..." -he wrote, and he added: "The first rough draft of my <i>Essay towards a -Transvaluation</i> is ready; it has been, on the whole, a torture, and -I have no longer the courage to think of it. In ten years I shall do -better." What was the cause of this dissatisfaction? Was he weary of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> -that tolerance, that condescension to the needs of the feeble and of -the crowd which he had imposed on himself for three months? Was he -impatient to express his anger?</p> - -<p>The letters which he then addressed to his mother and sister let -us approach him in a more intimate manner. (They have not all been -published.) He wrote to these two women from whom he was separated with -a tenderness which rendered difficult dissimulation and even courage -itself. He let himself go, as though it pleased him to find himself at -their knees a child again. He was gentle, obedient with his mother; -he signed himself humbly: <i>ta vieille créature.</i> With his sister he -talked like a comrade; he seemed to have forgotten all the grievances -he had had against her in other times; he knew that she would never -return from far-off Paraguay: he regretted her, he loved her because -she was lost. She is energetic, is Lisbeth, and valiantly risks her -life. Nietzsche admired in her the virtues which he esteemed above -all virtues, and which are, he thinks, the virtues of his race, the -noble race of the Counts Nietzki. "How strongly I feel," he wrote her, -"in all you do and say, that the same blood runs in our veins." He -hearkened to her, but she did not cease to offer him overwise advice. -As he complains of being alone, why does he not get made a professor, -why does he not marry? Nietzsche answered too easily: "Where would I -find a wife? and if by chance I did find one, would I have the right to -ask her to share my life?" He knew nevertheless, and said so, that a -wife would be sweet to him.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"NICE, <i>January</i> 25, 1888. "I must relate a little adventure to you: -yesterday, as I was taking my usual walk, I heard, not far off, a warm -and frank laugh (I thought that I heard your laugh); and when this -laughing person came near me—I saw a very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> charming girl, with brown -eyes, delicate as a deer. The sight warmed my heart, my old solitary -philosopher's heart—I thought of your matrimonial advice, and for the -rest of my walk, I could not rid myself of the image of this young and -gracious girl. Assuredly it would do me good to have so gracious a -thing by me—but would it do her good? Would not I, with my ideas, make -this girl unhappy? And would not my heart break (we assume that I love -her) if I saw so amiable a creature suffering? No, no marriage!"</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Was it not now that a singular and unwholesome idea fixed itself in his -thought? At every moment he was picturing to himself the joys of which -he was deprived: fame, love, and friendship; he thought rancourously -of those who possessed them, and above all of Richard Wagner, whose -genius had been always so sumptuously rewarded. How beautiful she had -been, when he knew her at Triebschen, this incomparable woman Cosima -Lizst, come, while yet married, to the scandal of the world, to live -with Wagner and help in his work! Attentive and clear-minded, active -and helpful, she assured him the security which he had hitherto lacked. -Without her, what would have become of him? Could he have mastered his -impatient, restless, excitable temperament? would he have been capable -of realising those great works which he was for ever announcing? Cosima -appeased him, directed him; thanks to her, he achieved the Tetralogy, -he reared Bayreuth, he wrote <i>Parsifal....</i> Nietzsche recalled those -fine days at Triebschen. Cosima welcomed him, listened to his ideas and -projects, read his manuscripts, was benevolent, talked brightly to him. -Suffering and irritation deformed his memories; he became infatuated -with the thought that he had loved Cosima Wagner and that she, perhaps, -had loved him. Nietzsche wished to believe this, and came to believe -it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> Yes, there had been love between them, and Cosima would have saved -him, as she saved Wagner, if, by lucky chance, she had only known him -a few years earlier. But every circumstance had been unfavourable to -Nietzsche. Here again Wagner had robbed him. He had taken all, fame, -love, friendship.</p> - -<p>We can divine this strange romance in the last works of Friedrich -Nietzsche. A Greek myth helps him to express and veil his thoughts; it -is the myth of Ariadne, Theseus, and Bacchus. Theseus was lost; Ariadne -has met him and led him to the exit from the labyrinth; but Theseus is -treacherous: he abandons upon the rock the woman who has saved him; -Ariadne would die alone and in despair if Bacchus did not intervene, -Bacchus-Dionysios who loves her. The enigma of these three names may -be solved: Ariadne is Cosima; Theseus, Wagner; Bacchus-Dionysios, -Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>On the 31st of March he wrote again, and his language was that of a -lost soul.</p> - -<p>"Night and day, I am in a state of unbearable tension and oppression, -by reason of the duty imposed upon me and also on account of my -conditions of life, which are absolutely opposed to the accomplishment -of this duty; here no doubt the cause of my distress must be sought.</p> - -<p>.... My health, thanks to an extraordinarily fine winter, to good -nourishment, to long walks, has remained sufficiently good. Nothing is -sick, but the poor soul. Besides, I will not conceal the fact that my -winter has been very rich in spiritual acquisitions for my great work: -so the mind is not sick; nothing is sick, but the poor soul."</p> - -<p>Nietzsche left Nice next day. He wished, before going up to the -Engadine, to make the experiment of a stay in Turin. Its dry air and -spacious streets had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> praised in his hearing. He travelled with -difficulty; he lost his luggage and his temper, quarrelled with the -porters, and remained for two days ill at Sampiedarena, near Genoa; -in Genoa itself, he spent three days of rest, fully occupied with the -happy memories which he found again. "I thank my luck," he wrote to -Peter Gast, "that it led me back to this town, where the will rises, -where one cannot be cowardly. I have never felt more gratitude than -during this pilgrimage to Genoa...." On Saturday, April 6th, he arrived -at Turin, broken with fatigue. "I am no longer capable of travelling -alone," he said to Peter Gast in the same letter. "It agitates me too -much, everything affects me stupidly."</p> - -<hr /> - -<h4>III</h4> - - -<h5>Towards the Darkness</h5> - - -<p>Here we should discontinue our story to forewarn the reader. Hitherto, -we have been following the history of Nietzsche's thought. Nietzsche's -thought has now no longer a history, for an influence, come not from -the mind, but from the body, has affected it. People sometimes say that -Nietzsche was mad long before this. It may be that they are right; it -is impossible to reach an assured diagnosis. At least he had retained -his power of reflection, his will. He could still hold himself and his -judgments in check. In the spring of 1888 he lost this faculty. His -intelligence is not yet darkened; there is not a word he writes but is -penetrating and trenchant. His lucidity is extreme, but disastrous, -since it exercises itself only to destroy. As one studies the last -months of this life, one feels as though one were watching the work of -some engine of war which is no longer governed by the hand of man.</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche abandoned those moral researches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> which had -strengthened his work till now, enriched and elevated it. Let us recall -a letter addressed to Peter Gast in February, 1888: "I am in a state -of chronic irritability which allows me, in my better moments, a sort -of revenge, not the finest sort—it takes the form of an excess of -hardness." These words shed light on the three coming books: <i>The Case -of Wagner, The Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist.</i></p> - -<p>We shall hurry on with the story of those months in which Nietzsche is -no longer quite himself.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>About the 7th of April he received an unexpected letter at Turin. -Georges Brandes wrote informing him of a projected series of -conferences which were to be devoted to his philosophy. "It annoys -me," wrote Brandes, "to think that no one knows you here, and I wish -to make you known all of a sudden." Nietzsche replied: "Truly, dear -sir, this is a surprise. Where did you get such courage that you can -speak in public of a <i>vir obscurissimus?..</i>. Perhaps you imagine that -I am known in my own country. They treat me as something singular and -absurd, which it is not at all necessary <i>to take seriously"</i> He ended -by remarking, "The long resistance has exasperated my pride a little. -Am I a philosopher? What does it matter?"</p> - -<p>The letter should have been an occasion of great joy; and, perhaps, had -it been possible to save him, the occasion of his salvation. Assuredly -he felt some happiness, but we scarcely discern it. The hour was late, -and Nietzsche now followed the tracks whither his destiny had drawn him.</p> - -<p>During these days of weariness and tension, he procured a translation -of the <i>Laws of Manu,</i> for he wished to become familiar with the -model of those hierarchic societies for whose renovation he hoped. He -read, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> his expectations were not deceived; this, the last study -of his life, turned out to be one of the most important he had ever -undertaken. It delighted him to ecstasy—here was a code on which were -established the customs and the order of four castes, a language that -was beautiful, simple, human in its very severity, a constant nobleness -of thought. And the impression of security, of sweetness which detached -itself from the book as a whole! Here are some commandments from its -earlier pages:</p> - -<p>"Before the cutting of the navel string, a ceremony is prescribed -at the birth of a male; he must be made, while sacred texts are -pronounced, to taste a little honey and clarified butter from a golden -dish.</p> - -<p>"Let the father fulfil the ceremony of the giving of a name, on the -tenth or twelfth day after birth, on a propitious lunary day, at a -favourable moment, under a star of happy influence.</p> - -<p>"Let the first name in the compound name of a Brahman express the -propitious favour; that of a Kshatriya, power; that of a Vaisya, -riches: that of a Sudra, abjection.</p> - -<p>"Let the name of a girl be soft, clear, agreeable, propitious and -easily spoken, terminating in long vowels, and resembling words of -benediction."</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche read and admired. He copied out many a passage, -recognising in the old Hindu text that <i>Goethean gaze, full of love and -of good will,</i> hearing in its pages that <i>canto d' amore,</i> which he had -himself wished to sing.</p> - -<p>But if he admired, he also judged. That Hindu order had as basis a -mythology of which the priests who interpreted it were not the dupes. -"These sages," wrote Nietzsche, "do not believe in all this—or -they would not have found it...." The laws of Manu were clever and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> -beautiful lies. Necessarily so, since Nature is a chaos, a derision of -all thought and of all order, and whoever aspires to the foundation of -an order, must turn away from her and conceive an illusory world. Those -master builders, the Hindoo lawgivers, are masters also in the art of -lying. If Nietzsche were not careful, their genius would drag him into -the path of falsehoods.</p> - -<p>Here was the instant of a crisis of which we know nothing but the -origin and the term. Nietzsche was alone at Turin, no one was by him -as he worked, he had no confidant. What was he thinking? Doubtless he -was studying, meditating continually over the old Aryan book which gave -him the model of his dreams, that book which was the finest monument of -æsthetic and social perfection, and, at the same time, of intellectual -knavery. How he must have loved and yet hated it! He mused, was amazed, -and suspended his work. Four years earlier a similar difficulty had -prevented him from completing his <i>Zarathustra.</i> It was no longer -a question of the <i>Superman,</i> of an <i>Eternal Return.</i> These naïve -formulæ were abandoned, but the tendencies which they cloaked—the one, -lyrical, avid of construction and of order, even though illusory; the -other, avid of destruction and of lucidity—these unvarying tendencies -again exercised their influence at this point. Nietzsche hesitated: -should he finally listen to these Brahmins, these priests, these crafty -leaders of men. No; loyalty is the virtue upon which he can never -compound. Later perhaps, much later, when a few centuries are gone by, -humanity, more learned in the meaning of its life, in the origins and -values of its instincts, in the mechanism of heredities, may essay -new lawgivings. To-day it cannot: it would only add falsehoods and -hypocrisies to the old lies, the old hypocrisies, which already fetter -it. Nietzsche turned away from the thoughts which he had followed with -such energy for six months, and suddenly found himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> exactly as he -had been in his thirtieth year, indifferent to all that was not in the -service of truth.</p> - -<p>"All that is suspect and false must be brought into the light!" he had -then written. "We do not wish to build prematurely, we do not know that -we can build, and that it may not be better to build nothing. There are -pessimists who are cowardly and resigned—of those we do not wish to -be."</p> - -<p>When he had thus expressed himself, Nietzsche still possessed strength -enough to consider calmly a labour made the easier by hope. But in ten -years he has lost his old force, his old calm, and all hope has left -him. His sick soul can no longer offer any resistance—irritability -overcomes it. He gives up the composition of his great work, -relinquishes it to write a pamphlet. By this circumstance our -conjectures are solved and, indeed, terminated.</p> - -<p>The days of serenity have gone by. Wounded to the death, Nietzsche -wishes to return blow for blow. Richard Wagner is his mark, the false -apostle of <i>Parsifal,</i> the illusionist who has seduced his period. If -he formerly served Wagner, now he will disserve him, out of passion -as out of a sense of duty. He thinks: "It is I who made Wagnerism; -it is I who must unmake it." He wishes to liberate, by means of a -violent attack, those of his contemporaries who, weaker than himself, -still submit to the prestige of this art. He wants to humiliate this -man whom he has loved, whom he still loves; he wishes to defame this -master who was the benefactor of his youth; in short, if we do not -mistake, he wishes to take vengeance on a lost happiness. So he insults -Wagner; calls him a decadent, a low comedian, a modern Cagliostro. This -indelicacy—an unheard-of thing in Nietzsche's life—suffices to prove -the presence of the evil.</p> - -<p>No scruple haunted him. A happy excitement favoured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> and hastened on -his work. Alienists are familiar with those singular conditions which -precede the last crises of general paralysis, and Friedrich Nietzsche -seemed to abandon himself to an afflux of joy. He attributed the -benefit to the climate of Turin, which he was now trying.</p> - -<p>"Turin, dear friend," wrote he to Peter Gast, "is a capital discovery. -I tell you with the idea at the back of my mind that you may perhaps -also profit from it. My humour is good, I work from morning to night—a -little pamphlet on music occupies my fingers—I digest like a demi-god, -I sleep in spite of the nocturnal noises of carriages: so many symptoms -of the eminent suitability of Turin to Nietzsche."</p> - -<p>In July, in the Engadine, some damp and cold weeks did him a great -deal of harm. He lost his sleep. His happy excitement disappeared, or -transformed itself into bitter and febrile humours. It was then that -Fräulein von Salis-Marschlins, who has recounted her recollections in -an interesting brochure, saw him, after a separation of ten months. -She remarked the change in his condition; how he walked alone, his -hurried carriage, his sharp salute—he would stop scarcely or not at -all, in such a hurry was he to get back to his inn and put down the -thoughts which his walk had inspired in him. On the visits he paid her -he did not conceal his preoccupations. He was in dread of pecuniary -embarrassments: the capital which had constituted his little fortune -was almost gone; and could he, with the three thousand francs which -the University of Basle allowed him as a pension, provide for his -everyday needs and for the publication, always onerous, of his books? -It was in vain that he regulated his journeys and restricted himself -to the simplest lodgings and food. He was reaching the limits of his -resources.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>The Case of Wagner</i> was completed; to the text, a preliminary -discourse, a postscript, a second postscript, and an epilogue were -added. He could not cease extending his work, and making it more -bitter. Nevertheless he was not satisfied, and felt, after having -written it, some remorse.</p> - -<p>"I hope that this very <i>risqué</i> pamphlet has pleased you," he wrote to -Peter Gast on the 11th of August, 1888. "That would be for me a comfort -by no means negligible. There are certain hours, above all, certain -evenings, when I do not feel enough courage in myself for so many -follies, for so much hardheartedness; I am in doubt over some passages. -Perhaps I went too far (not in the matter, but in my manner of -expressing the matter). Perhaps the note in which I speak of Wagner's -family origins could be suppressed."</p> - -<p>A letter addressed about this time to Fräulein von Meysenbug gives food -for thought.</p> - -<p>"I have given to men the most profound book," he writes; "one pays -dearly for that. The price of being immortal is sometimes life!... And -always on my road that cretinism of Bayreuth! The old seducer Wagner, -dead though he be, continues to draw away from me just those few men -whom my influence might touch. But in Denmark—how absurd to think!—I -have been celebrated this winter. Dr. Georges Brandes, whose mind is -so full of vitality, has dared to talk about me before the University -of Copenhagen. And with brilliant success! Always more than three -hundred listeners! And a final ovation!—And something similar is being -arranged in New York. I am the most <i>independent</i> mind in Europe and -the <i>only</i> German writer—which is something!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> - -<p>He added in a postscript: "Only a great soul can endure my writings. -Thus I have had the good luck to provoke against myself all that is -feeble and virtuous." No doubt the indulgent Fräulein von Meysenbug -saw in these lines a point directed against herself. She answered, -as usual, in her kindly manner: "You say that everything feeble and -virtuous is against you? Do not be so paradoxical. Virtue is not -weakness but strength, words say it plainly enough. And are you -not yourself the living contradiction of what you say? For you are -virtuous, and the example of your life, if men could only know it, -would, as I am assured, be more persuasive than your books." Nietzsche -replied: "I have read your charming letter, dear lady and dear friend, -with real emotion; no doubt you are right—so am I."</p> - -<p>How headlong a thing is his life! Days spent in walking, in getting the -rhythm of phrases, in sharpening thoughts. Often he works through the -dawn and is writing still when the innkeeper rises and goes noiselessly -out to follow the traces of the chamois among the mountains. "Am I not -myself a hunter of chamois?" thinks Nietzsche, and goes on with his -work.</p> - -<p>The <i>Case of Wagner</i> being completed, Nietzsche began a new pamphlet, -directed not against a man, but against ideas—against all ideas that -men have found whereby to guide their acts. There is no metaphysical -world, and the rationalists are dreamers; there is no moral world, -and the moralists are dreamers. What then remains? "The world of -appearances, perhaps? But no; for with the world of truth we have -abolished the world of appearances!" Nothing exists but energy, renewed -at every instant. "Incipiet Zarathustra." Friedrich Nietzsche looked -for a title for his new pamphlet: <i>Leisure Hours of a Psychologist</i> was -his first idea; then, <i>The Twilight of the Idols, or The Philosophy -of the Hammer. </i> On September 7th he sent his manuscript to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> the -publisher. This little book—he wrote—must strike, scandalise, and -strain people's minds, and prepare them for the reception of his great -work.</p> - -<p>Of it he is always thinking, and his second pamphlet is scarcely -finished when he starts on this labour. But we no longer recognise the -calm and Goethean work which it had been his desire to write. He tries -new titles: <i>We other Immoralists, We other Hyperboreans:</i> then returns -to his old title and keeps to it—<i>The Will to Power: An Essay towards -the Transvaluation of all Values.</i> Between September 3rd and September -30th he draws up a first section: <i>The Antichrist;</i> and it is a third -pamphlet. This time he speaks outright, he indicates his Yea and his -Nay, his straight line and his goal: he exalts the most brutal energy. -All moral imperatives, whether dictated by Moses or by Manu, by the -people or by the aristocracy, are lies. "Europe was near to greatness," -he writes, "when, during the first years of the sixteenth century, it -was possible to hope that Cæsar Borgia would seize the Papacy." Are we -bound to accept these thoughts as definitive, because they are the last -that Nietzsche expressed?</p> - -<p>While he was drawing up <i>The Antichrist,</i> he returned again to his -<i>Dionysian Songs,</i> outlined in 1884, and completed them. Here we find -the sure expression of the presentiments that then agitated him.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"The sun sets,<br /> -Soon thy thirst shall be quenched,<br /> -Burning heart!<br /> -A freshness is in the air,<br /> -I breathe the breath of unknown mouths,<br /> -The great cold comes....<br /> -<br /> -The sun is in its place, and burns upon my head at noon.<br /> -I salute ye, ye who come,<br /> -O swift winds,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>O fresh spirits of the afternoon<br /> -<br /> -The air stirs, peaceable and pure.<br /> -Has it not darted towards me a sidelong glance,<br /> -A seductive glance,<br /> -To-night?<br /> -<br /> -Be strong, brave heart!<br /> -Ask not: why?<br /> -<br /> -Eve of my life!<br /> -The sun sets."<br /> -</p> - -<p>On the 21st September we find him at Turin. On the 22nd <i>The Case of -Wagner</i> was published. Here at last was a book of which the newspapers -spoke a little. But Nietzsche was exasperated by their comments. With -the exception of a Swiss author, Carl Spiteler, no one had understood -him. Every word gave him the measure of the public ignorance as regards -his work. For ten years he had been seeking and following ideas found -by him alone: of this the German critics knew nothing; they knew only -that a certain Herr Nietzsche, a disciple of Wagner's, had been an -author; they read <i>The Case of Wagner</i> and surmised that Herr Nietzsche -was just fallen out with his master. Besides, he felt that he had -incurred the blame of some of his later friends. Jacob Burckhardt, -always so precise, did not acknowledge the receipt of the pamphlet; the -good Meysenbug wrote an indignant and severe letter.</p> - -<p>"These are subjects," Nietzsche answered him, "with regard to which I -cannot permit any contradiction. Upon the question of <i>decadence</i> I am -the highest authority (instance) in the world: the men of to-day, with -their querulous and degenerate instinct, should consider themselves -fortunate that they have by them some one who offers them a generous -wine in their most sombre moments. That Wagner succeeded in making -himself believed in, assuredly proves genius; but the genius of -falsehood. I have the honour to be his opposite—a genius of truth."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> - -<p>In spite of the agitation thus displayed, his letters expressed an -unheard-of happiness. There is nothing which he does not admire. The -autumn is splendid; the roads, the galleries, the palaces, the cafés -of Turin, are magnificent; repasts are succulent and prices modest. He -digests well, sleeps marvellously. He hears French operettas: there is -nothing as perfect as their buoyant manner, "the paradise of all the -refinements." He listens to a concert: each piece, whether Beethoven, -Schubert, Bossaro, Goldmarck, Vibac, or Bizet be its author, seems to -him equally sublime. "I was in tears," he wrote to Peter Gast. "I think -that Turin, from the point of view of the musical sense, as from every -other point of view, is the <i>most solid</i> town that I know."</p> - -<p>One might hope that this intoxication of spirit kept Nietzsche from -knowledge of his destiny. But a rare word sufficiently indicates his -clairvoyance. He has a sense of the approaching disaster. His reason -escapes from him and he measures its flight. On the 13th of November, -1888, he expressed to Peter Gast a desire to have him near, his -regret that he could not come; this was his constant plaint, the very -constancy of which indeed diminished its significance. Nietzsche, who -knew this, warned his friend: "What I tell you, take tragically," he -wrote. On the 18th of November he sent a letter which seemed quite -happy. He spoke of operettas which he had just heard, of Judic, and of -Milly Meyer. "For our bodies and for our souls, dear friend," he wrote, -"a light Parisian intoxication, 'tis salvation." He concluded: "This -letter also, I pray you to take tragically."</p> - -<p>Thus the condition of physical jubilation to which imminent madness -brought him let him escape neither presentiment nor anguish. He wished -to reassemble for the last time the memories and impressions which -life had left to him, and to compose a work which should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> be bizarre, -triumphant, and desperate. Look at the titles of the chapters: "Why -I am so prudent.—Why I am so wise.—Why I have written such good -books.—Why I am a fatality.—Glory and eternity...." He calls his -last work: <i>Ecce Homo.</i> What does he mean? Is he Antichrist or another -Christ? He is both together. Like Christ, he has sacrificed himself. -Christ is man and God: He has conquered the temptations to which He -made Himself accessible. Nietzsche is man and Superman: he has known -every feeble desire, every cowardly thought, and has cast them from -him. None before him was so tender or so hard; no reality has alarmed -him. He has taken upon himself not the sins of men, but all their -passions in their greatest force. "Jesus on the Cross," he writes, -"is an anathema upon life; Dionysos broken in bits is a <i>promise</i> of -life, of life indestructible and ever-renewed." The solitary Christian -had his God: Nietzsche lives alone and without God. The sage of old -had his friends: Nietzsche lives alone and without friends. He lives -nevertheless, and can sing, in his cruel extremity, the Dionysian -hymn. "I am not a saint," he writes, "but a satyr." And again, "I have -written so many books, and such beautiful ones: how should I not be -grateful to life?"</p> - -<p>No; Nietzsche was a saint, not a satyr, and a wounded saint who aspired -to die. He said that he felt grateful to life; it was false, for his -soul was quite embittered. He lied, but sometimes man has no other way -to victory. When Arria, dying from the blow she had given herself, said -to her husband as she passed him her weapon: <i>"Pœte, non dolet.</i>.." -she lied, and it was to her glory that she lied. And here, may we not -pass on Nietzsche himself the judgment that he had passed upon her? "Her -holy falsehood," he wrote in 1879, "obscures all the truths that have -ever been said by the dying." Nietzsche had not triumphed. <i>Ecce Homo:</i> -he was broken but would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> not avow it. A poet, he wished that his cry of -agony should be a song; a last lyrical transport uplifted his soul and -gave him the force to lie.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Day of my life!<br /> -Thou sinkst to eve!<br /> -Thine eye already<br /> -Gleams half-bruised;<br /> -Drops from thy dew,<br /> -Like tears outstrewn,<br /> -Stream; the purple of thy love<br /> -Goes silent over the milky sea,<br /> -Thy ultimate, tardy blessedness....<br /> -<br /> -All around, only the waves and their mirth.<br /> -What once was hard<br /> -Has foundered in a blue oblivion—<br /> -My boat lies idle now.<br /> -Tempest and travel—how unlearnt<br /> -Hope and desire are drowned,<br /> -The soul and the sea he sleek.<br /> -<br /> -<i>Seventh</i> solitude<br /> -Never felt I<br /> -Closer to me the sweet serenity,<br /> -Warmer the rays of the sun.<br /> -—Shines not even the ice of my summit?<br /> -<br /> -A rapid, silvery fish,<br /> -My bark glides away, afar."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Nevertheless he was conscious that the fame, so long desired, -approached. Georges Brandes, who was going to repeat and publish his -lectures, found him a new reader, the Swede Auguste Strindberg. Very -pleased, Nietzsche announced it to Peter Gast. "Strindberg has written -to me," he said, "and for the first time I receive a letter in which -I find a world-historic <i>(Welthistorik)</i> accent." In St. Petersburg -they were getting ready to translate his <i>Case of Wagner.</i> In Paris, -Hippolyte Taine sought and found him a correspondent: Jean Bordeau, -contributor to the <i>Débats</i> and the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes.</i> "At last," -wrote Nietzsche, "the grand Panama Canal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> towards France has been -opened." His old comrade Deussen handed him two thousand francs, the -offering of an unknown who wished to subscribe to an edition of his -works. Madame de Salis Marschlins offered him a thousand. Friedrich -Nietzsche should have been happy, but it was too late.</p> - -<p>How were his last days spent? We do not know. He lived in a furnished -apartment, the guest of a humble family, which lodged him and, if he -wished, fed him. He corrected the proofs of <i>Ecce Homo,</i> adding a -postscript to the early text, then a dithyrambic poem; meanwhile he -prepared a new pamphlet for publication, <i>Nietzsche contra Wagner.</i> -"Before launching the first edition of my great work," he wrote to -his publisher, "we must prepare the public, we must create a genuine -tension—or it will be <i>Zarathustra</i> over again." On the 8th of -December he wrote to Peter Gast: "I have re-read <i>Ecce Homo,</i> I have -weighed every word in scales of gold: literally it cuts the history of -humanity into two sections—the highest superlative of dynamite." On -the 29th of December he wrote to his publisher: "I am of your opinion, -as to <i>Ecce Homo;</i> let us not exceed 1,000 copies; a thousand copies -for Germany of a book, written in the grand style, is indeed rather -more than reasonable. But in France, I say it quite seriously, I count -on an issue of 80,000—or 40,000 copies." On the 2nd of January another -letter (in a rough and deformed hand): "Return me the poem—on with -<i>Ecce!</i>"</p> - -<p>There exists a tradition, difficult to verify, that, during these -latter days, Nietzsche often played fragments of Wagner to his hosts. -He would say to them: "I knew him," and talk of Triebschen. The -thing does not seem improbable, for now his memories of his greatest -happiness may well have visited him, and he may have found delight in -recounting them to simple people ignorant of his life. Had he not just -written in <i>Ecce Homo:</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Since I am here recalling the consolations of my life, I ought to -express in a word my gratitude for what was by far my most profound and -best-loved joy—my intimacy with Richard Wagner. I wish to be just with -regard to the rest of my human relationships; but I absolutely cannot -efface from my life the days at Triebschen, days of confidence, of -gaiety; of sublime flashes—days of <i>profound</i> happiness. I do not know -what Wagner was for others: our sky was never darkened by a cloud."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p>On the 9th of January, 1889, Franz Overbeck was sitting, with his -wife, at the window of his quiet house in Basle, when he saw old -Burckhardt stop and ring at his door. He was surprised: Burckhardt was -not an intimate, and some intuition warned him that Nietzsche, their -common friend, was the cause of this visit. For some weeks he had had -disquieting notes from Turin. Burckhardt brought him a long letter -which all too clearly confirmed his presentiments. Nietzsche was mad. -"I am Ferdinand de Lesseps," he wrote, "I am Prado, I am Chambige [the -two assassins with whom the Paris newspapers were then occupied]; I -have been buried twice this autumn."</p> - -<p>A few moments later Overbeck received a similar letter, and all -Nietzsche's friends were likewise advised. He had written to each of -them.</p> - -<p>"Friend Georges," he wrote to Brandes, "since you have discovered me, -it is not wonderful to find me: what is now difficult is to lose me.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 65%;">"THE CRUCIFIED."</p> - -<p>Peter Gast received a message the tragic significance of which he did -not understand:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><i>"A mon maestro Pietro.</i></p> - -<p>"Sing me a new song. The world is clear and all the skies rejoice."</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Ariadne, I love you," he wrote to Cosima Wagner.</p> - -<p>Overbeck started immediately. He found Nietzsche, watched over by his -hosts, ploughing the piano with his elbow, singing and crying his -Dionysian glory. He was able to bring him back to Basle, and introduce -him, without too painful a scene, into a hospital, where his mother -came to seek him.</p> - -<p>He lived another ten years. The first of them were cruel, the later -more kindly; sometimes even there seemed to be hope. He would recall -his work.</p> - -<p>"Have I not written fine books?" he would say.</p> - -<p>He was shown portraits of Wagner.</p> - -<p>"Him," he would say, "I loved much."</p> - -<p>These returns of consciousness might have been frightful; it seems that -they were not. One day his sister, as she sat by his side, could not -restrain her tears.</p> - -<p>"Lisbeth," he said, "why do you cry? Are we not happy?"</p> - -<p>The ruined intellect could not be saved, but the uncorrupted soul kept -sweet and charming, open to pure impressions.</p> - -<p>One day a young man who was occupied with the publication of his work -was out with him on his short walk. Nietzsche perceived a little girl -at the side of the road, and was charmed. He went up to her, stopped, -and with a hand drew back the hair which lay low on her forehead; then, -contemplating the frank face with a smile, he said:</p> - -<p>"Is it not the picture of innocence?"</p> - -<p>Friedrich Nietzsche died at Weimar on the 25th of August, 1900.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_19" id="Footnote_1_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_19"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In French in the text.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_20" id="Footnote_2_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_20"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Morals are free in the pensions on the Mediterranean, and -no doubt we are unaware of all the episodes of Friedrich Nietzsche's -life. But this reservation must be made. According to evidence which we -have been able to gather, his manner of life, in the Engadine, never -gave occasion for the least gossip. On the contrary he seems, we are -told, to have avoided young women.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_21" id="Footnote_3_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_21"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> "I am very happy," wrote Taine, "that my articles on -Napoleon have struck you as true, and nothing can more exactly sum up -my impression than the two German words which you use: <i>Unmensch</i> und -<i>Uebermensch.</i>"—Letter of July 12, 1887.</p></div> - - -<hr class="full" /> - - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -<a id="INDEX"></a>INDEX<br /> -<br /> -A<br /> -<br /> -About, <a href="#Page_147">147</a><br /> -Æschylus, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>; Greece of, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> -Alexander, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> -Alsace, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -Anaxagoras, <a href="#Page_143">143</a><br /> -<i>Anti-Christ, The,</i> <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a><br /> -Apollo, "Leader of States," <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> -Apollonian Spirit, The, Nietzsche's definition of, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a><br /> -Aquila, <a href="#Page_262">262</a><br /> -Arabs, The, <a href="#Page_262">262</a><br /> -Ariadne, <a href="#Page_345">345</a><br /> -Aristotle, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> -Athens, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> -Attica, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a><br /> -<br /> -B<br /> -<br /> -Bacchus-Dionysus, <a href="#Page_345">345</a><br /> -Bach, Nietzsche's love of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br /> -Bahnsen, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> -Bashkirtseff, Marie, <a href="#Page_241">241</a><br /> -Basle, Nietzsche's appointment at University of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>-<a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's life at, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>; <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"> <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"> <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a></span><br /> -Baudelaire, C., <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> -Baumbrach, Professor, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> -Baumgarten, Marie, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> -Bavaria, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> -Bayreuth, theatre of, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wagner at, <a href="#Page_127">127</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">destiny of, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">foundation stone of theatre laid, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">financial difficulties at, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>-<a href="#Page_147">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's appeal on its behalf, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>-<a href="#Page_153">4</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">rehearsals at, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>-<a href="#Page_190">90</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its "beautiful souls," <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its journal condemns <i>Human, All Too Human,</i> <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Parsifal</i> played at, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"6,000 feet above Bayreuth," <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></span><br /> -Beethoven, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;<br /> -Nietzsche studies life of, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">centenary of, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>; <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a></span><br /> -Bellini, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -Bergamo, <a href="#Page_113">113</a><br /> -Berlin, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>; Nietzsche in, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">parliamentary intrigues of, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></span><br /> -Berlioz, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -<i>Bestimmung der Oper, Die,</i> <a href="#Page_118">118</a><br /> -<i>Beyond Good and Evil,</i> <a href="#Page_309">309</a>-<a href="#Page_325">25</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -<i>Birth of Tragedy,</i> <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its Wagnerian tendency, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></span><br /> -Bismarck, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a><br /> -Bizet, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -Blanc, Louis, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> -Bohemia, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> -Bonn, University of, <a href="#Page_40">40</a> <i>et seq.</i>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></span><br /> -Bordeau, Jean, <a href="#Page_358">358</a><br /> -Borgia, Cæsar, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a><br /> -Bourget, Paul, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> -Brahms, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -Brandes, Georges, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">appreciates <i>Genealogy of Morals,</i> <a href="#Page_333">333</a>-<a href="#Page_334">4</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">lectures on Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></span><br /> -Brenner, A., <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> -Brockhaus, Madame, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> -Bucharest, <a href="#Page_241">241</a><br /> -Büchner, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br /> -Bülow, Hans von, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> -Burckhardt, Jacob Nietzsche's confidant at Basle, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">shares Nietzsche's grief, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>-<a href="#Page_115">15</a>; <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"> <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></span><br /> -Byron, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>; Nietzsche's love of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /> -<br /> -C<br /> -<br /> -Carlsruhe, <a href="#Page_92">92</a><br /> -<i>Carmen,</i> <a href="#Page_236">236</a>-<a href="#Page_237">7</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a><br /> -<i>Case of Wagner, The,</i> <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a> <i>et seq.</i>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">publication of, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_358">358</a></span><br /> -Catholicism, Nietzsche's detestation of, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a><br /> -Cavour, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> -Chamfort, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> -Chiavari, <a href="#Page_254">254</a><br /> -Chillon, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_182">182</a><br /> -<i>Choephores</i> of Æschylus, The, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> -Chopin, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> -Christianity, Wagner and, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>; and Nietzsche's spiritual life, <a href="#Page_337">337</a><br /> -Cimarosa, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> -Cloisters, Nietzsche's project of, <a href="#Page_99">99</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -Coire, <a href="#Page_326">326</a><br /> -Cologne, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a><br /> -Columbus, Christopher, <a href="#Page_226">226</a><br /> -Cook, Captain, <a href="#Page_226">226</a><br /> -Copenhagen, University of, <a href="#Page_352">352</a><br /> -Corsica, <a href="#Page_316">316</a><br /> -Culture of <i>The Renaissance in Italy,</i> The, <a href="#Page_318">318</a><br /> -<br /> -D<br /> -<br /> -d'Agoult, Madame, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> -Dante, <a href="#Page_322">322</a><br /> -Darwinism, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> -<i>Dawn of Day, The,</i> <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">failure of, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">preface to, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a></span><br /> -De Brossé, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> -Democritus, <a href="#Page_143">143</a><br /> -Descartes, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> -Deussen, Paul, Nietzsche's college comrade, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's letter to on becoming Professor at Basle, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>-<a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></span><br /> -Diogenes Laertius, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> -Dionysian Songs, <a href="#Page_354">354</a><br /> -Dionysos, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>; Nietzsche as, <a href="#Page_357">357</a><br /> -Dönhoff, Countess, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> -Don Quixote, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /> -Dresden, <a href="#Page_62">62</a><br /> -Dühring, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>; <i>The Value of Life,</i> <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> -Dürer, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> -<br /> -E<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<i>Ecce Homo,</i> <a href="#Page_357">357</a>-<a href="#Page_359">9</a><br /> -Eckermann, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> -<i>Educational Institutions, The Future of,</i> <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a><br /> -Emerson, R. W., <a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /> -Empedocles, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> -Engadine, The, Nietzsche in, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> -Eternal Return, The, Nietzsche's conception of, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his horror of, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">abandons the idea, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>-<a href="#Page_255">5</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">re-adopts it, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>-<a href="#Page_266">6</a>; <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a> <i>et seq.</i>; <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a></span><br /> -Euripides, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> -Europe, condition of, <a href="#Page_330">330</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>-<a href="#Page_335">5</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">tragical era of, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</span><br /> -Europe, Goethe, and Napoleon, <a href="#Page_342">342</a><br /> -<br /> -F<br /> -<br /> -Faust, <i>quoted,</i> <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> -Feuerbach, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br /> -Fichte, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br /> -Finland, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> -Flaubert, Gustave, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -Flimms, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> -Florence, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a><br /> -Förster, marriage with Nietzsche's sister, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a><br /> -France, Nietzsche in, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>-<a href="#Page_92">2</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a><br /> -Franco-German War, <a href="#Page_90">90</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> -Frankfurt, Peace of, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>-<a href="#Page_114">14</a><br /> -Frederick the Great, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> -Frederick II, <a href="#Page_317">317</a><br /> -Frederick William of Prussia, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> -Freiligrath, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> -Friburg, <a href="#Page_88">88</a><br /> -Friedrich von Hohenstaufen, <a href="#Page_262">262</a><br /> -Friendship, Nietzsche's view of, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> -Fritzsch, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a><br /> -Froeschwüler, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> -Fuchs, Carl, <a href="#Page_337">337</a><br /> -<br /> -G<br /> -<br /> -Galiani, Abbé, The, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> -Garda, Lake of, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> -Garibaldi, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> -Gast, Peter, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Venice, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">aids Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's correspondence with, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>-<a href="#Page_250">50</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_280">80</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>-<a href="#Page_310">10</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></span><br /> -Gautier, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> -Gavarri, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -<i>Gay Science, The,</i> <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">preface to, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></span><br /> -<i>Genealogy of Morals,</i><a href="#Page_328">328</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> -Geneva, <a href="#Page_184">184</a><br /> -Genoa, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_223">223</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_316">316,</a> <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a></span><br /> -Germany, Nietzsche's hopes of, <a href="#Page_94">94</a> <i>et seq.</i>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its "delirium of conceit after Metz," <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">fails to celebrate Beethoven, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche abandons, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the mission of the German Empire, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the "two Germanys," <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's projected mission to, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche "spits out lava on," <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's summons to, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>-<a href="#Page_154">4</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the "sombre Empire," <a href="#Page_301">301</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">defaming the Germans, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a></span><br /> -Gersdorff, Baron von, Nietzsche's correspondence with, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>-<a href="#Page_70">70</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">character of, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>; <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></span><br /> -Gobineau, Count, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> -Goethe, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>-<a href="#Page_57">7</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">89, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quoted by Mazzini, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to inspire Nietzsche's great work, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a></span><br /> -Goldmarck, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -Goncourts, Journal of the, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -Greek poets, Nietzsche's love of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br /> -Greeks, The, genius of, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>-<a href="#Page_57">7</a>;<br /> -Germanic Hellenism, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the Homeric problem, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Goethe, Wagner, and, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and tragedy, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>-<a href="#Page_83">3</a>;</span><br /> -Nietzsche's lectures on æsthetic of Greek tragedy, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>-<a href="#Page_85">5</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the Greek genius and war, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of the sixth and seventh centuries, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the two Greeces, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>; <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">tragic philosophers of, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a></span><br /> -Grunewald, <a href="#Page_245">245</a><br /> -Guyau, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> -<br /> -H<br /> -<br /> -Hamburg, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> -Hartmann, E. von, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> -Hasse, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> -Hegel, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a><br /> -Heidelberg, Union of, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> -Heinze, <a href="#Page_311">311</a><br /> -Helen, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> -<i>Hellenism and Pessimism,</i> <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> -Heraclitus, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> -Herodotus, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> -Herzen, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> -Hildebrant, Karl, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> -Hölderlin, read by Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">life and work of, <a href="#Page_32">32</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">similarity to Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>; <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></span><br /> -Homer, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -<i>Human, All Too Human,</i> <a href="#Page_205">205</a>-<a href="#Page_206">6</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_325">325</a><br /> -Humboldt, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> -Hymn to Friendship, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> -Hymn to Life, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -Hymn to Solitude, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> -<br /> -I<br /> -<br /> -<i>Iliad, The,</i> <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> -Italy, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a><br /> -<br /> -J<br /> -<br /> -Java, Earthquake of, <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /> -Jena, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> -Judic, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -<br /> -K<br /> -<br /> -Kant, <a href="#Page_73">73</a><br /> -Kief, <a href="#Page_241">241</a><br /> -Kiel, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -Klingenbrunn, <a href="#Page_191">191</a><br /> -Köselitz, <i>see</i> Peter Gast<br /> -<br /> -L<br /> -<br /> -Lange, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> -Lanzky, Paul, <a href="#Page_254">254</a> <i>n</i>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Nice, <a href="#Page_289">289</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_303">303</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Ruta, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>-<a href="#Page_319">19</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a></span><br /> -<i>Laws of Manu, The,</i> <a href="#Page_347">347</a>-<a href="#Page_349">9</a><br /> -Leipsic, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>;<br /> -Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a><br /> -Lenbach, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> -Leopardi, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> -Leskien, <a href="#Page_311">311</a><br /> -Lessing, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a><br /> -<i>Letters of an Heretical esthete, The,</i> <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> -Liszt, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a><br /> -<i>Litterarisches Centralblatt, The,</i> <a href="#Page_122">122</a><br /> -<i>Lohengrin,</i> <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> -<i>L'Ombra di Venezia,</i> <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a><br /> -London, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> -Louis of Bavaria, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>; Wagner writes<br /> -treatise for, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>-<a href="#Page_78">78</a>; saves Bayreuth, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> -Louvre, The, burning of, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>-<a href="#Page_115">15</a><br /> -Lucerne, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a><br /> -Lucretius, <a href="#Page_233">233</a><br /> -Lugano, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>; Nietzsche among the Germans at, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> -Lunéville, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -Luther, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>; Nietzsche's Lutheranism, <a href="#Page_261">261</a><br /> -<br /> -M<br /> -<br /> -Maggiori, Lake, <a href="#Page_325">325</a><br /> -Manfred, <a href="#Page_29">29</a><br /> -Mannheim, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /> -Marasoff, Madame, <a href="#Page_313">313</a><br /> -Marguerite of Savoy, <a href="#Page_133">133</a><br /> -Marienbad, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> -Maupassant, Guy de, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> -Mazzini, meeting with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_111">11</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;<br /> -Nietzsche's veneration for, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> -Meiningen, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> -<i>Meistersingers,</i> <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> -Mendelssohn, <a href="#Page_129">129</a><br /> -Mentone, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> -Mérimée, Prosper, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -Messina, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -Metz, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a><br /> -Meyer, Milly, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -Meysenbug, Fräulein von, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">her <i>Memoirs of an Idealist,</i> <a href="#Page_182">182</a>-<a href="#Page_182">185</a>; <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>-<a href="#Page_241">1</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">correspondence with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>-<a href="#Page_134">4</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>-<a href="#Page_161">1</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>-<a href="#Page_186">6</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>-<a href="#Page_220">20</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>-<a href="#Page_348">8</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>-<a href="#Page_353">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at Naples with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>-<a href="#Page_203">203</a></span><br /> -Michelet, <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> -Mill, S., <a href="#Page_195">195</a><br /> -<i>Miscellaneous Opinions and Apothegms,</i> <a href="#Page_211">211</a><br /> -Moltke, von, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> -Monaco, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>-<a href="#Page_322">2</a><br /> -Mond, G., <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> -Montaigne, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> -Mozart, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> -Mucius Scævola, <a href="#Page_26">26</a><br /> -Munich, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>-<a href="#Page_65">5</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> -<i>Music of the Future, The,</i> <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> -<br /> -N<br /> -<br /> -Nancy, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -Naples, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_196">196</a> <i>et seq.;</i> <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> -Napoleon the Great, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a> <i>n,</i> <a href="#Page_342">342</a><br /> -Napoleon III, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> -Naumburg-sur-Saale, Nietzsche's home at, <a href="#Page_21">21</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">provinciality of, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</span><br /> -Nietzsche spends Christmas of 1873 at, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></span><br /> -Newton, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /> -New York, <a href="#Page_352">352</a><br /> -<i>Nibelungen, The,</i> <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -Nice, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_270">270</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> -Nietzki, Counts, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_343">343</a><br /> -Nietzsche, Frau, goes to Naumburg with her family, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>-<a href="#Page_270">70</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's tender letters to, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></span><br /> -Nietzsche, Friedrich, birth of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death of his father and brother, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><a href="#Page_21">1</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his journal, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">residence at Naumburg, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">desires to become a clergyman, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">first composition, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">enters college at Naumburg, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">writes history of childhood, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">scholarship at Pforta, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>; life at Pforta, <a href="#Page_26">26</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">weakening of religious faith, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>-<a href="#Page_32">2</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">question of his future, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">address to his masters and comrades, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">leaves Pforta, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>; enters University of Bonn, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his new life, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>; fights a duel, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">dislike of Bonn, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>; studies philology, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">love of the Greek poets, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letter to his sister on Christianity, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">flies from Bonn, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>; completes his studies at Leipsic, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">reads <i>The World as Will end Representation,</i> <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">researches on Theognis of Megara, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">as Prussian patriot, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>; second year at Leipsic, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">enthusiasm for art and the classics, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>; style, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friendship with Rohde, <a href="#Page_56">56</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">as conscript, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>; falls from horse, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">opinion of German politics, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">discovery of Wagner, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">meeting with Wagner, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>-<a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">appointed Professor at Basle, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visits Wagner at Triebschen, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">lectures on the "Homeric Problem," <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his admiration for Wagner, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The Birth of Tragedy,</i> <a href="#Page_75">75</a>; Hellenism, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">aids Wagner, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>; on Socrates, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>-<a href="#Page_86">6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">serves as ambulancer in Franco-Prussian War, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>-<a href="#Page_93">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">illness of, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>; distrust of Prussian power, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">returns to Basle and sees Wagner again, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">project of a cloister, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>; on War, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>-<a href="#Page_108">8</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at Lugano, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>; his horror at the burning of the Louvre, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wagner's guest, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>; publishes <i>The Birth of Tragedy,</i> <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">ill-success of the book, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>; farewell to Triebschen, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>-<a href="#Page_126">6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at Bayreuth, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>; wishes to fight for Wagner, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and Fräulein von Meysenbug, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">in North Italy, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>; at Splügen, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">return to Basle, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>; how to found a culture, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>-<a href="#Page_139">9</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">holidays at Naumburg, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">philosophical formulas, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">goes to Bayreuth, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>; attack on Strauss, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his friendship with Gersdorff, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thoughts Out of Season,</i> <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">proposed series of twenty pamphlets, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">begins to distrust Wagnerian art, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Schopenhauer as Educator,</i> <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visits the Wagners with his sister, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>-<a href="#Page_167">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">depression, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>; serious illness, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with his sister at Basle, <a href="#Page_178">178</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at Chülon, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letter to Fräulein von Meysenbug on her</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Memoirs of an Idealist,</i> <a href="#Page_184">184</a>-<a href="#Page_185">5</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his book on Wagner, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">absence from Bayreuth rehearsals, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>-<a href="#Page_190">90</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at Bayreuth festivals, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>-<a href="#Page_194">4</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his distress, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>; failure of eyesight, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visit to Fräulein von Meysenbug at Naples, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>-<a href="#Page_197">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">sees Wagner at Sorrento, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>; isolates himself, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">life at Naples, <a href="#Page_198">198</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his veneration for Mazzini, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>; leaves Naples, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">takes cure at Rosenlaui, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friendship with Rée, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Human, All Too Human,</i> <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">impression of <i>Parsifal,</i> <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his grief over Wagner, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">resigns professorship, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">awaits death in Engadine, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">returns to Naumburg, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">terrible sufferings, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">first visit to Venice and convalescence, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>; at Genoa, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">publication of <i>The Dawn of Day,</i> <a href="#Page_228">228</a>; at Sils-Maria, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">conceives the Eternal Return at Sils-Maria, <a href="#Page_231">231</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the discovery of <i>Carmen,</i> <a href="#Page_236">236</a>-<a href="#Page_237">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche and Lou Salomé, <a href="#Page_240">240</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his quarrel with Rée and Lou, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>-<a href="#Page_253">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the poem of Zarathustra, <a href="#Page_255">255</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the principle of the Superman, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>-<a href="#Page_257">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">attempts to complete his poem, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>-<a href="#Page_279">9</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">friendship with Heinrich von Stein, <a href="#Page_282">282</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">joined by Lanzky at Nice, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">failure to win Stein from Wagnerism, <a href="#Page_292">292</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">abandons his lyrical work, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">says farewell to his sister at Naumburg, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>-<a href="#Page_303">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">at Nice, <a href="#Page_304">304</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Beyond Good and Evil,</i> <a href="#Page_308">308</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his kindness to Peter Gast, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visits Rohde at Leipsic, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visits his mother at Naumburg, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">returns to the Engadine, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the <i>Will to Power,</i> <a href="#Page_315">315</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Taine's letter of praise, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">prefaces to the <i>Dawn of Day</i> and <i>The Gay Science,</i> <a href="#Page_319">319</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">returns to Nice, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>; as a critic, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The Genealogy of Morals,</i> <a href="#Page_328">328</a> <i>et seq.;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">returns to Venice, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">relations with Rohde, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>-<a href="#Page_333">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Georges Brandes's letter, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">design for new work, <a href="#Page_334">334</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">arrival at Turin, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">reads <i>The Laws of Manu,</i> <a href="#Page_347">347</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">attack on Wagner, <a href="#Page_350">350</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the <i>Antichrist,</i> <a href="#Page_354">354</a>:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ecce Homo,</i> <a href="#Page_357">357</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his opinion of Strindberg, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>-<a href="#Page_359">9</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">loss of reason, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>-<a href="#Page_361">1</a>; death of, <a href="#Page_361">361</a></span><br /> -Nietzsche, Lisbeth (Förster-Nietzsche), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Naumburg, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Lugano, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Flimms, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>-<a href="#Page_176">6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">with Nietzsche at Basle, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>-<a href="#Page_213">13</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a> <i>n,</i> <a href="#Page_245">245</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>-<a href="#Page_253">3</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">accompanies Nietzsche to Engadine, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>; <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>-<a href="#Page_315">15</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">marriage of, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>-<a href="#Page_270">70</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">reconciliation with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_286">286</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_296">296</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">correspondence with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_306">306</a>-<a href="#Page_307">7</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>-<a href="#Page_308">8</a>, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></span><br /> -<i>Nietzsche contra Wagner,</i> <a href="#Page_359">359</a><br /> -Novalis, <a href="#Page_26">26</a><br /> -<br /> -O<br /> -<br /> -O., Madame, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /> -<i>Odyssey,</i> <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> -Œdipus, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>-<a href="#Page_144">4</a><br /> -<i>Of the State and Religion,</i> Wagner's <i>Old Faith and the New, The,</i> <a href="#Page_147">147</a>-<a href="#Page_149">9</a><br /> -Overbeck, Professor, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">134, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a></span><br /> -<br /> -P<br /> -<br /> -Paraguay, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> -Paris, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a><br /> -Parmenides, <a href="#Page_143">143</a><br /> -<i>Parsifal,</i> <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"> <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a></span><br /> -Pascal <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> -Pforta, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> -Philadelphia, <a href="#Page_241">241</a><br /> -<i>Philology of the Future, The,</i> <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> -<i>Philosophers of Tragic Greece, The,</i> <a href="#Page_146">146</a><br /> -Pindar, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> -Plato, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> -Plutarch, <a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /> -Pobles, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> -Poland, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> -Portofino, <a href="#Page_254">254</a><br /> -Port Royal des Champs, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> -Prague, <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> -Prussia, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a><br /> -Puccini, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> -Pythagoras, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> -Pythagoreans, The, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> -<br /> -R<br /> -<br /> -Rapallo, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a><br /> -Recoaro, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a><br /> -<i>Reden Eines Hoffenden,</i> <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> -Rée, Paul, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_204">204</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">rupture with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>; <a href="#Page_266">266</a>-<a href="#Page_268">8</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></span><br /> -Renan, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -<i>Rhinegold, The,</i> <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /> -Ritschl, Nietzsche's master at Bonn, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></span><br /> -<i>Rivista Europa, La,</i> <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a><br /> -Röcken, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> -Röder, Madame, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a><br /> -Rohde, Erwin, friendship with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">spends holiday with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>-<a href="#Page_57">7</a>; <a href="#Page_60">60</a>-<a href="#Page_63">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">project of travel with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>; <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">defends <i>Birth of Tragedy,</i> <a href="#Page_122">122</a>; <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">appointed Professor at Leipsic, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quarrel with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>-<a href="#Page_333">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">correspondence with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>-<a href="#Page_235">5</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></span><br /> -Rolland, Romain, <a href="#Page_259">259</a> <i>n</i><br /> -Rolph, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> -Rome, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>; Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>; <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> -Romundt, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">enters orders, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>-<a href="#Page_175">5</a></span><br /> -Rosenlaui, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> -Rossaro, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -Rossini, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -Rousseau, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> -Russians, The, Nietzsche's view of, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>-<a href="#Page_321">1</a><br /> -Ruten, <a href="#Page_317">317</a><br /> -<br /> -S<br /> -<br /> -Sadowa, Battle of, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> -Sainte-Beuve, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /> -Salis-Marschlins, Fräulein von, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a><br /> -Salomé, Lou, <a href="#Page_341">341</a> <i>et seq.;</i><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">poems to Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">her description of Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>; <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quarrel with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_251">251</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>-<a href="#Page_268">8</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></span><br /> -San Remo, <a href="#Page_270">270</a><br /> -Santa Margherita, <a href="#Page_254">254</a><br /> -Schaffler, Herr, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> -Schelling, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a><br /> -Schiller, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a><br /> -Schlegels, The, <a href="#Page_26">26</a><br /> -Schmeitzner, Herr, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a><br /> -Schopenhauer, Arthur,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The World as Will and Representation,</i> <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's admiration of, <a href="#Page_49">49</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">truest philosopher, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>; <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>-<a href="#Page_163">3</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Schopenhauer as Educator,</i> <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></span><br /> -Schubert, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -Schumann, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> -Schüre, E., his description of Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /> -Scott, Walter, <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> -Sedan, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> -Semiramis, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -Seydlitz, Baron von, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> -Seydlitz, Irene von, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> -Sicily, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -<i>Siegfried,</i> "Idyll" performed at Triebschen, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>; <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>-<a href="#Page_194">4</a><br /> -Sienna, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> -Sils-Maria, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_229">229</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a><br /> -Simonides, <a href="#Page_59">59</a><br /> -Singer, Herr, <a href="#Page_184">184</a><br /> -Slavery, Nietzsche's view of its necessity, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>-<a href="#Page_106">6</a><br /> -Socialism, <a href="#Page_124">124</a><br /> -Socrates, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;<br /> -Nietzsche's condemnation of, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>-<a href="#Page_86">6</a>;<br /> -Socratic Greece, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>; <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;<br /> -ranked above Æschylus, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> -Sophocles, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> -Sparta, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> -Spencer, Herbert, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> -Spinoza, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> -Spiteler, Carl, <a href="#Page_355">355</a><br /> -Splügen, <a href="#Page_134">134</a><br /> -State, The, <a href="#Page_123">123</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> -Stendhal, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> -Stein, H. von, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">mission to Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>-<a href="#Page_283">3</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visit to Sils, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>-<a href="#Page_285">5</a>; <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>-<a href="#Page_295">5</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death of, <a href="#Page_327">327</a></span><br /> -Steinabad, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>-<a href="#Page_173">3</a><br /> -"Stellar Friendship," <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br /> -Stewart, B., <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> -Strassbourg, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>; University of, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a><br /> -Strauss, D., <a href="#Page_147">147</a>-<a href="#Page_149">9</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> -Stresa, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> -Strindberg, A., <a href="#Page_358">358</a>-<a href="#Page_359">9</a><br /> -Sulzer, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> -Superman, The, <a href="#Page_256">256</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_264">264</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a><br /> -Surlei, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /> -<i>Sutta Nipata, The,</i> <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> -"Swiss, The Loyal," <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> -Switzerland, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a><br /> -<br /> -T<br /> -<br /> -Tacitus, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> -Taine, H, letter to Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a> and <i>n,</i> <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_358">358</a><br /> -Tautenberg, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a><br /> -Tempel Leborecht, meeting with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>-<a href="#Page_304">304</a><br /> -Thales, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a><br /> -Theognis of Megara, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a><br /> -Theseus <a href="#Page_345">345</a><br /> -<i>Thoughts out of Season,</i> <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a><br /> -Thucydides, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> -<i>Thus Spake Zarathustra,</i> <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a> <i>et seq.,</i> <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">publication of, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>; second part of, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's attempt to complete poem, <a href="#Page_271">271</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its perfection of language, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>; failure with public, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the fourth section, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>-<a href="#Page_297">7</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a></span><br /> -<i>Traveller and his Shadow, The,</i> <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> -Treischke, Herr, German historian, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>-<a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> -Triebschen, Wagner at, <a href="#Page_71">71</a> <i>et seq.;</i><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Christmas festivals at, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>-<a href="#Page_84">4</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">changed life of, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wagner's departure from, <a href="#Page_124">124</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></span><br /> -<i>Tristan,</i> <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a><br /> -Tübingen, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> -Turgenieff, Ivan, <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> -Turin, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>; Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_346">346</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> -Tuscany, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>-<a href="#Page_304">4</a><br /> -<i>Twilight of the Gods,</i> <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a><br /> -<i>Twilight of the Idols,</i> <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a><br /> -<br /> -U<br /> -<br /> -Universities, prestige of in Germany, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> -<i>Use and Abuse of History, The,</i> <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> -<br /> -V<br /> -<br /> -V. P., Madame, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>-<a href="#Page_232">2</a><br /> -<i>Valkyrie, The,</i> Nietzsche's criticism of, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /> -Vallambrosa, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> -Vauvenargues, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> -Venice, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's visit to, <a href="#Page_220">220</a> <i>et seq.</i>; <a href="#Page_280">280</a>-<a href="#Page_281">1</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche with Gast at, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>-<a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></span><br /> -Vibac, <a href="#Page_356">356</a><br /> -Voltaire, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> -<br /> -W<br /> -<br /> -Wagner, Cosima, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">121, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">164-<a href="#Page_165">5</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche and, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>-<a href="#Page_335">5</a>; <a href="#Page_356">356</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a></span><br /> -Wagner, Richard, Nietzsche's discovery<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of and acquaintance with, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>-<a href="#Page_67">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and Schopenhauer, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>; at Triebschen, <a href="#Page_71">71</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his treatise <i>On the State and Religion,</i> <a href="#Page_75">75</a>-<a href="#Page_78">8</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">interest in Nietzsche and correspondence, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>-<a href="#Page_87">7</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the "poet of Germany," <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and the Beethoven centenary, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and the German victories, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">buffoonery of, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">advises Nietzsche on his work, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his intimates, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>-<a href="#Page_116">16</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visits Mannheim with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche spends Christmas with, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">praises <i>The Birth of Tragedy,</i> <a href="#Page_120">120</a>-<a href="#Page_121">1</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">leaves Triebschen, <a href="#Page_124">124</a> <i>et seq.</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">lays foundation-stone of Bayreuth Theatre, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his distrust, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>; the Wagnerian cult, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">renewed intimacy with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">mention of, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">difficulties at Bayreuth, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">as an "art," <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his liking for Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>-<a href="#Page_166">6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">relations with Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>-<a href="#Page_167">7</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letters to Nietzsche, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>-<a href="#Page_171">1</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nietzsche's book on, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_188">8</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his neo-Christianity, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">triumphs of <a href="#Page_194">194</a>; at Sorrento, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and <i>Human, All Too Human,</i> <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">references to, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death of, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">further references to, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>-<a href="#Page_285">5</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>-<a href="#Page_345">5</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Case of Wagner,</i>347, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>-<a href="#Page_356">6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Nietzsche contra Wagner,</i>359, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></span><br /> -Wahnfried, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> -War, Nietzsche's views on, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>-<a href="#Page_107">7</a><br /> -Weimar, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>; Nietzsche's death at, <a href="#Page_361">361</a><br /> -<i>Will to Power, The,</i> <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>-<a href="#Page_341">41</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a><br /> -Willamowitz, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> -William, Emperor, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> -Windisch, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a><br /> -Wissenberg, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -Wolf, F. A., <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> -<i>World as Will and Representation, The,</i> <a href="#Page_49">49</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> -Wörth, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -<br /> -Z<br /> -<br /> -Zarathustra, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>; "the lawgiver," <a href="#Page_272">272</a> <i>et seq.</i></span><br /> -Zarncke, <a href="#Page_311">311</a><br /> -Zimmern, Miss, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a><br /> -Zoagli, <a href="#Page_254">254</a><br /> -Zola, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> -Zürich, Nietzsche at, <a href="#Page_287">287</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> -</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The life of Friedrich Nietzsche, by Daniel Halévy - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE *** - -***** This file should be named 53620-h.htm or 53620-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/2/53620/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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