NIETZSCHE
HIS LIFE AND WORKS
[Philosophies Ancient and Modern]
BY
ANTHONY M. LUDOVICI
AUTHOR OF
'Who is to be Master of the World?'
AND 'Notes to Zarathustra'
PREFACE BY DR. OSCAR LEVY
CONSTABLE & COMPANY LTD
London
1910
Introduction
The commission for a book on Nietzsche, to form the latest addition
to a series of famous philosophers, is most certainly a sign that
the age of adversity, through which the earlier Nietzscheans had to
struggle, has at last come to an end. For ten consecutive years they
had had no reply whatever to their propaganda, and their publications,
loud as some of them were, proved as ineffective as cannon shots fired
into the eternity of interplanetary space. Finally, however, when the
echo was at last heard, it gave back nothing like the original sound:
it was an echo of groans and moans, an echo of roaring disapproval
and hissing mockery. Yet the years rolled on and on--and so did the
printing-presses--hissing and roaring as much as ever--but at last,
their thunders grew tamer and more subdued--the tempest of their fury
seemed to die away in the distance--occasionally a slight mutter
was still to be heard, but no more flashes and hisses--and suddenly
a streak of blue was observed over the horizon, followed by a ray
and smile of sunlight--and a soft zephyr of subdued and tentative
compliments--and when our Nietzsche edition had begun to appear in its
stately volumes we were enabled to receive from our former enemies on
both sides of the Atlantic "respectful congratulations."
And now all my brave friends are radiant with joy and optimism. Like
the wanderer in the fairy tale, while the storm of disgust and loud
reproach was raging, they wrapped themselves all the more closely in
their cloaks, and no impudent wind could tear a shred of garments from
them, but now that the sun of approval has set in, they would fain get
out of their armour and enjoy the fine weather as a reward for past
perils. Has not the spring come at last? Are not the gay flowers at our
feet meant to welcome the victorious warriors?... Are not the ladies
--ladies that from time immemorial have loved the warrior (especially
when he is successful)--smiling at us more gloriously even than the
sun?... Sun, ladies, flowers, smiles--was there ever a nicer
combination?...
But, alas! there is an unimaginative creature among the guests, an
earnest face among the cheerful, a disbeliever among the faithful, a
dark countenance amid the bright assembly;--a being who, in glaring
contrast to the sun, the smiles, and the gaily-coloured dresses and
sunshades, is keeping a tight hold upon a dark umbrella--for he has an
uncontrollable mistrust of English weather!
And I may claim that I not only know the meteorological conditions of
England, but also those of the whole of modern Europe. I know them so
well that I have the greatest doubts whether Nietzsche's influence
will be strong enough to withstand the terrible hurricane of democracy
which in our age is sweeping everything before it, and leaving a
level plain in its rear. Nietzsche may have been ever so right, but
Truth and Righteousness do not always prevail in this world of ours,
indeed, they don't: the bible itself, that otherwise optimistic book,
lets this grand secret out once and only once--in the story of Job.
The "happy ending" in that book will deceive no realistic observer:
it was added to the story, as it is added to modern plays and novels,
for the edification and comfort of the audience: the true story of Job
was without it, as was the true story of many a brave man, as was the
true story of that great pope, who on his deathbed came out with the
confession: "Dilexi justitiam et odi iniquitatem, _propterea_ morior
in exsilio,"[1] a confession which went in the very teeth of his own
virtue-rewarding creed with its happy-go-lucky trust in the moral order
of the universe.
Nietzsche may have been right, _therefore_ he may be unsuccessful. I
myself regard Nietzsche's views on art, religion, psychology, morality,
as extremely sound; I think they are proved both by history and by
common experience; I even suspect that they could be confirmed by
science, if only science would give up looking at the world through
the coloured spectacles of democratic prejudice ... but then, it is
so difficult to give up this democratic prejudice; for it is by no
means simply a political opinion. Democracy, as a political creed, need
terrify no one; for political creeds succeed each other like waves
of the sea, whose thunder is loud and whose end is froth; but the
driving power behind democracy is not a political one, it is religious
--it is Christianity. A mighty religion still, a religion which has
governed the world for two thousand years, which has influenced all
philosophies, all literatures, all laws, all customs up to our own day,
till it has finally filtered into our hearts, our blood, our system,
and become part and parcel of ourselves without our being aware of
it. At the present moment we are all instinctive Christians. Even
if this Christian religion has been severely wounded by Nietzsche's
criticism--and I believe this to be the case--I beg to suggest
that a wounded lion may still have more strength than all the fussy,
political, rationalistic, agnostic, nonconformist, Nietzschean and
super-Nietzschean mice put together.
It was all the braver, therefore, on Nietzsche's part to assail
such a mighty enemy, and to attack him exactly on the spot where
attack was most needed, if victory were to be won. Nietzsche clearly
recognised that the canons of criticism had until now only been
directed against the outer works of that stalwart fortress--at
dogmatic, at supernatural, at ecclesiastical Christianity, and that
no one had yet dared to aim right at the very heart of the creed--
its morality, which, while the shamfighters were at work outside,
was being enormously strengthened and consolidated from within. This
morality, however, Nietzsche recognised as intimately connected with
modern democracy--and behind the rosebush of democracy with its
flowery speeches and its fraternity- and liberty-blossoms, Nietzsche
clearly saw the dragon of anarchy and dissolution lurking. It was the
mortal fear of annihilation and ruin which gave Nietzsche the daring
to fulminate against our religion with such imperishable Dithyrambics.
He was the first to mean the phrase, "_écrasez l'infâme!_" which in
Voltaire's mouth was only an epigrammatic exclamation. For Nietzsche's
great forerunner on the Continent, Wolfgang Goethe, who was also just
as well aware how it would all end, was much too prudent a man to lay
his innermost heart bare to his enemies, he--the grand old hypocrite
of Weimar--gauged the power of the contrary current correctly, and
wisely left the open combat against Christianity and democracy to
his great colleague--to that man of tragic wit, to Heinrich Heine.
And there were others on the Continent--very few to be sure, and no
politician or man of science or woman among them--others who saw the
drift of modern ideas: all of them poets. For poets are prophets: their
sensitive organisation feels the fall of the glass first, while their
pluck and their pride, their duty and their desire to face the storm
drive them into the very thick of it. The German poet Hebbel, the
French novelist Stendhal, were amongst them. A new Matthew Arnold
--the object of my wish for this country--would perhaps like to include
another poet, the Frenchman Alfred de Vigny, in whose journal are to
be found those awe-inspiring words against democracy: "Alas! it is
thou, Democracy, that art the desert! it is thou who hast shrouded
and bleached everything beneath thy monticles of sand! Thy tedious
flatness has covered everything and levelled all! For ever and ever
the valley and the hill supplant each other; and only from time to
time a man of courage is seen: he rises like a sand-whirl, makes his
ten paces towards the sun, and then falls like powder to the ground.
And then nothing more is seen save the eternal plain of endless sand."
Goethe and Hebbel, Stendhal and Heinrich Heine, Alfred de Vigny and
Friedrich Nietzsche, all made their ten steps towards the sun and are
now sleeping peacefully beneath the dry sands of Christian democracy.
Their works are read, to be sure; but alas! how few understand their
meaning! I see this and I shudder. And I remember another moment in
my life--a moment of perturbation too--a moment in which an idea
overcame me, which has been haunting me ever since. I was on a visit
to Mrs. Förster-Nietzsche, in her villa high up amongst the hills of
Weimar, waiting in the drawing-room for my hostess to enter. It was
the first time that I had stood upon the holy ground where Friedrich
Nietzsche gave up his heroic soul, and I was naturally impressed; my
eyes wandered reverently around the scene, and I suddenly noticed
some handwriting on the wall. The handwriting consisted of a powerful
letter N which the ingenious builder had engraved profusely upon the
oak panels of the room. The N, of course, reminded me of another big
N, connected with another big name,--the N which used to be engraved
together with the imperial crown and eagle upon the plate and regalia
of Napoleon Bonaparte. There was another victim of democracy: the man
who, elevated by its revolutionary wave, tried to stifle and subdue
the anarchical flood, was swallowed up as ignominiously as its other
implacable opponent, the plucky parson's son of the vicarage of Röcken.
The mighty sword in the beginning and the mighty pen at the end of
the last century were alike impotent against--Fate. No doubt, I saw
in that moment, as though lit up by a flashlight, the fate of Europe
clearly before my eyes. A fate--an iron fate. A fate unavoidable
for a continent that will have no more guides, no more great men.
A fate unavoidable for an age that spills its best blood with the
carelessness of ignorance. A fate unavoidable for a people that is
driven by its very religion to disobedience and anarchy. And I thought
of my own race, which has seen so many fates, so many ages, so many
empires decline--and there was I, the eternal Jew, witnessing another
catastrophe. And I shuddered, and when my hostess entered I had not
yet recovered my breath.
Gruesome, isn't it? But what if it should not come true? "There are
no more prophets to-day," says the Talmud scornfully. Well, unlike
my ancestor Jonah, who became melancholic when his announcement of
the downfall of Nineveh was not fulfilled, I beg to say that I on the
contrary shall be extremely delighted to have proved a false prophet.
But I shall keep my umbrella all the same.
OSCAR LEVY.
54 Russell Square,
London, W.C.
[1] 'I have loved justice and I have hated iniquity, _therefore_ I die
in exile.'
Contents
Introduction
Chapter I
Life and Works
Chapter II
Nietzsche the Amoralist
Chapter III
Nietzsche the Moralist
Chapter IV
Nietzsche the Evolutionist
Chapter V
Nietzsche the Sociologist
Summary and Conclusion
Books Useful to the Student of Nietzsche
Abbreviations Used in Referring to Nietzsche's Works
D. D. = Dawn of Day.
Z. = Thus Spake Zarathustra.
G. E. = Beyond Good and Evil.
G. M. = The Genealogy of Morals.
Aph. = Aphorism.
Chapter I
Life and Works
"Holy be thy name to all coming generations! In the name of all thy
friends, I, thy pupil, cry out our warmest thanks to thee for thy great
life.
"Thou wast one of the noblest and purest men that ever trod this earth.
"And although this is known to both friend and foe, I do not deem it
superfluous to utter this testimony aloud at thy tomb. For we know the
world; we know the fate of Spinoza! Around Nietzsche's memory, too,
posterity may cast shadows! And therefore I close with the words: Peace
to thy ashes!"[1]
This view, expressed by Peter Gast, Nietzsche's staunchest friend and
disciple, at his master's graveside, in August 1900, may be regarded
as typical of the Nietzsche enthusiast's attitude towards his master.
On the other hand we have the assurance of Nietzsche's opponents and
enemies that nothing could have been more utterly disastrous to modern
society, more pernicious, dangerous, and ridiculous than Nietzsche's
life-work.
At the present day Nietzsche is so potent a force and his influence is
increasing with such rapidity that, whatever our calling in life may
be, it behoves us to know precisely what he stands for, and to which of
the opinions above given we should subscribe. As a matter of fact, the
inquirer into the life and works of this interesting man will find that
he has well-nigh as many by-names as he has readers, and not the least
of our difficulties in speaking about him will be to give him a fitting
title, descriptive of his mission and the way in which he understood it.
Some deny his right to the title "philosopher"; others declare him to
be a mere anarchist; and a large number regard all his later works as
no more than a shallow though brilliant reversal of every accepted
doctrine on earth.
In order to be able to provoke so much diversity of opinion, a man
must be not only versatile but forcible. Nietzsche was both. There is
scarcely a subject in the whole range of philosophical thought which
he does not attack and blow up; and he hurls forth his hard, polished
missiles in a manner so destructive, and at the same time with such
accuracy of aim, that it is no wonder a chorus of ill-used strongholds
of traditional thought now cry out against him as a disturber and
annihilator of their peace. Yet, through all the dust, smoke, and noise
of his implacable warfare, there are both a method and a mission to be
discerned--a method and a mission in the pursuit of which Nietzsche is
really as unswerving as he seems capricious.
Throughout his life and all his many recantations and revulsions of
feeling, he remained faithful to one purpose and to one aim--the
elevation of the type man. However bewildered we may become beneath the
hail of his epigrams, treating of every momentous question that has
ever agitated the human mind, we still can trace this broad principle
running through all his works: his desire to elevate man and to make
him more worthy of humanity's great past.
Even in his attack on English psychologists, naturalists, and
philosophers, in _The Genealogy of Morals_, what are his charges against
them? He says they debase man, voluntarily or involuntarily, by seeking
the really operative, really imperative and decisive factor in history
precisely where the intellectual pride of man would least wish to find
it, i.e. in _vis inertiæ_, in some blind and accidental mechanism of
ideas, in automatic and purely passive adaptation and modification, in
the compulsory action of adjustment to environment.
Again, in his attack on the evolutionists' so-called "struggle for
existence," of which I shall speak more exhaustively later, it is the
suggestion that life--mere existence in itself--is worthy of being
an aim at all, that he deprecates so profoundly. And, once more, it is
with the view of elevating man and his aspirations that he levels the
attack.
Whatever we may think of his methods, therefore, at least his aim was
sufficiently lofty and honourable, and we must bear in mind that he
never shirked the duties which, rightly or wrongly, he imagined would
help him to achieve it.
What was Nietzsche? If we accept his own definition of the
philosopher's task on earth, we must place him in the front rank of
philosophers. For, according to him, the creation of new values, new
principles, new standards, is the philosopher's sole _raison d'être_; and
this he certainly accomplished. If, on the other hand, with all the
"school" philosophers, we ask him to show us his system, we shall most
surely be disappointed. In this respect, therefore, we may perhaps need
to modify our opinion of him.
Be that as it may, it is safe to maintain that he was a poet of no
mean order; not a mere versifier or rhapsodist, but a poet in the
old Greek sense of the word, _i.e._ a maker, in our time such men are
so rare that we are apt to question whether they exist at all, for
poetasters have destroyed our faith in them. Goethe was perhaps the
last example of the type in modern Europe, and although we may recall
the scientific achievements of men like Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci
and Galileo, we are not sufficiently ready to associate their divining
and intuitive power in the department of science with their purely
artistic and poetic achievements, despite the fact that the two are
really inseparable.
Knowing the high authority with which poets of this order are wont
to sneak, it might be supposed that we should approach Nietzsche's
innovations in the realm of science with some respect, not in spite of,
but precisely owing to, his great poetic genius. Unfortunately to-day
this no longer follows. Too thoroughly have we divorced science from
emotion and feeling (very wrongly, as even Herbert Spencer and Buckle
both declared), and now, wherever we see emotion or a suggestion of
passion, we are too apt to purse our lips and stand on our guard.
When we consider that Nietzsche was ultimately to prove the bitterest
enemy of Christianity, and the severest critic of the ecclesiastic, his
antecedents seem, to say the least, remarkable. His father, Karl Ludwig
Nietzsche, born in 1813, was a clergyman of the German Protestant
Church; his grandfather had also taken orders; whilst his grandmother
on his father's side was descended from a long line of parsons. Nor do
things change very much when we turn to his mother's family; for his
maternal grandfather, Oehler, was also a clergyman, and, according to
Nietzsche's sister, he appears to have been a very sound, though broad,
theologian.
Yet, perhaps, it is we who are wrong in seeing anything strange
in the fact that a man with such orthodox antecedents should have
developed into a prophet and reformer of Nietzsche's stamp; for we
should remember that only a long tradition of discipline and strict
conventionality, lasting over a number of generations, is able to rear
that will-power and determination which, as the lives of most great
men have shown, are the first conditions of all epoch-making movements
started by single individuals.
Friedrich Nietzsche was born at Röcken near Lützen, in the Prussian
province of Saxony, on the 15th of October 1844. From his earliest
childhood onwards the boy seems to have been robust and active and
does not appear to have suffered from any of the ordinary ailments of
infancy. In the biography written by his sister much stress is laid
upon this fact, while the sometimes exceptional health enjoyed by his
parents and ancestors is duly emphasised by the anxious biographer.
Elisabeth Nietzsche (born in July 1846), the biographer in question, is
perfectly justified in establishing these facts with care; for we know
that our poet philosopher died insane, and many have sought to show
that his insanity was hereditary and could be traced throughout his
works.
Nietzsche's father died in 1849, and in the following year the family
removed to Naumburg. There the boy received his early schooling,
first at a preparatory school and subsequently at the Gymnasium--the
Grammar School--of the town. As a lad, it is said that he was fond
of military games, and of sitting alone, and it appears that he would
recline for hours at his grandmother Nietzsche's feet, listening to
her reminiscences of the great Napoleon. Towards the end of 1858 Mrs.
Nietzsche was offered a scholarship for her son, for a term of six
years, in the Landes-Schule, Pforta, so famous for the scholars it
produced. At Pforta, where the discipline was very severe, the boy
followed the regular school course and worked with great industry.
His sister tells us that during this period he distinguished himself
most in his private studies and artistic efforts, though even in the
ordinary work of the school he was decidedly above the average. It was
here, too, that he first became acquainted with Wagner's compositions,
and a word ought now perhaps to be said in regard to his musical
studies.
Music, we know, played anything but a minor rôle in his later life,
as his three important essays, _Richard Wagner in Bayreuth_, _The Case
of Wagner_, and _Nietzsche contra Wagner_, are with us to prove. I fear,
however, that it will be impossible to go very deeply into this
question here, save at the cost of other still more important matters
which have a prior claim to our attention. Let it then suffice to say
that, as a boy, Nietzsche's talent had already become so noticeable
that for some time the question which agitated the elders in his circle
of relatives and friends, among whom were some competent judges, was
whether he should not give up all else in order to develop his great
gift. In the end, however, it was decided that he should become a
scholar, and although he never entirely gave up composing and playing
the piano, music never attained to anything beyond the dignity of a
serious hobby in his life. In saying this I naturally exclude his
critical writings on the subject, which are at once valuable and
important.
Nietzsche's six years at Pforta were responsible for a large number of
his subsequent ideas. When we hear him laying particular stress upon
the value of rigorous training free from all sentimentality; when we
read his views concerning austerity and the importance of law, order
and discipline, we must bear in mind that he is speaking with an actual
knowledge of these things, and with profound experience of their worth.
The excellence of his philological work may also be ascribed to the
very sound training he received at Pforta, and the Latin essay which
he wrote on an original subject (Theognis, the great aristocratic poet
of Megara) for the leaving examination, laid the foundation of all his
subsequent opinions on morality.
Nietzsche left Pforta in September 1864 and entered the University of
Bonn, where he studied philology and theology. The latter he abandoned
six months later, however, and in the autumn of 1865 he left Bonn for
Leipzig, whither his famous teacher Ritschl had preceded him. Between
1865 and 1867 his work at Leipzig proved of the utmost importance to
his career. Hellenism, Schopenhauer and Wagner now entered into his
life and became paramount influences with him, and each in its way
determined what his ultimate mission was to be. Hellenism drew him ever
more strongly to philology and to the problem of culture in general;
Schopenhauer directed him to philosophy, and Wagner taught him his
first steps in a subject which was to be the actual _Leit-motif_ of his
teaching--I refer to the question of Art.
His work during these two years, arduous though it was, in no way
affected his health, and, despite his short-sight, he tells us that
he was then able to endure the greatest strain without the smallest
trouble. Being of a robust and energetic nature, however, he was
anxious to discover some means of employing his bodily strength, and it
was for this reason that, regardless of the interruption in his work,
he was enthusiastic at the thought of becoming a soldier.
In the autumn of 1867 he entered the fourth regiment of Field
Artillery, and it is said that he performed his duties to the complete
satisfaction of his superiors. But, alas, this lasted but a short time;
for, as the result of an unfortunate fall from a restive horse, he was
compelled to leave the colours before he had completed his term of
service.
In October 1868, after a serious illness, the student returned to his
work at Leipzig, and now that event took place which was perhaps the
most triumphant and most decisive in his career. It was Nietzsche's
ambition to get His doctor's degree as soon as possible and then
to travel. Meanwhile, however, others were busy determining what
he should do. Some philological essays which he had written in his
student days, and which, owing to their excellence, had been published
by the "Rheinisches Museum," had attracted the attention of the
educational Board of Bâle. One of the Board communicated with Ritschl
concerning Nietzsche, and the reply the learned scholar sent was so
favourable that the University of Bâle immediately offered Ritschl's
favourite pupil their Professorship of Classical Philology. This was an
exceptional honour, and, to crown it, the University of Leipzig quickly
granted Nietzsche his doctor's degree without further examination
--truly a remarkable occurrence in straitlaced and formal Germany!
His first years at Bâle are chiefly associated in our minds with his
inaugural address: "Homer and Classical Philology," with his action in
regard to the Franco-German war, and with his lectures on the "Future
of our Educational Institutions." I can do no more than refer to these
here, but as regards the war it is necessary to go into further detail.
In July 1870, hostilities opened between France and Prussia. Now,
although Nietzsche had been forced to become a naturalised Swiss
subject in order to accept his appointment at Bâle, he was loth
to remain inactive while his own countrymen fought for the honour
of Germany. He could not, however, fight for the Germans without
compromising Switzerland's neutrality. He therefore went as a hospital
attendant, and in this capacity, after obtaining the necessary leave,
he followed his former compatriots to the war. According to Elisabeth
Nietzsche, it was this act of devotion which was the cause of all her
brother's subsequent ill-health. In Ars-sur-Moselle, while tending
the sick and wounded, Nietzsche contracted dysentery from those in
his charge. With his constitution undermined by the exertions of the
campaign, he fell very seriously ill, and had to be relieved of his
duties. Long before he was strong enough to do so, however, he resumed
his work at Bâle; and now began that second phase of his life during
which he never once recovered the health he had enjoyed before the war.
In January 1872 Nietzsche published his first book, _The Birth of
Tragedy_. It is really but a portion of a much larger work on Hellenism
which he had always had in view from his earliest student days, and it
may be said to have been prepared in two preliminary lectures delivered
at Bâle, under the title of the "Greek Musical Drama," and "Socrates
and Tragedy." The work was received with enthusiasm by Wagnerians; but
among Nietzsche's philological friends it succeeded in rousing little
more than doubt and suspicion. It was a sign that the young professor
was beginning to ascribe too much importance to Art in its influence
upon the world, and this the dry men of science could not tolerate.
Between 1873 and 1876, Nietzsche, while still at Bâle, published four
more essays which, for matter and form, proved to be among the most
startling productions that Germany had read since Schopenhauer's prime.
Their author called these essays _Thoughts out of Season_, and his aim
in writing them was undoubtedly the regeneration of German culture.
The first was an attack on German Philistinism, in the person of David
Strauss, the famous theologian of Tübingen, whom Nietzsche dubbed
the "Philistine of Culture," and was calculated to check the extreme
smugness which had suddenly invaded all departments of thought and
activity in Germany as the result of the recent military triumph.
The second, _The Use and Abuse of History_, was a protest against
excessive indulgence in the "historical sense," or the love of looking
backwards, which threatened to paralyse the intelligence of Germany in
those days. In it Nietzsche tries to show how history is for the few
and not for the many, and points out how rare are those who have the
strength to endure the lesson of experience.
In the third, _Schopenhauer as Educator_, Nietzsche pits his great
teacher against all other dry-as-dust philosophers who make for
stagnation in philosophy. The fourth, Richard Wagner in Bayreuth,
contains Nietzsche's last word of praise as a friend of the great
German musician. In it we already see signs of his revulsion of
feeling; but on the whole it is a panegyric written with love and
conviction.
The fourth, Richard Wagner in Bayreuth, contains Nietzsche's last word
of praise as a friend of the great German musician. In it we already
see signs of his revulsion of feeling; but on the whole it is a
panegyric written with love and conviction.
The only one of the four _Thoughts out of Season_ which created much
comment was the first, concerning David Strauss, and this gave rise to
a loud outcry against the daring young philologist.
Nietzsche had been very unwell throughout this period. Dyspepsia and
headaches, brought on partly by overwork, racked him incessantly,
and, in addition, he was getting ever nearer and nearer to a final
and irrevocable breach with the greatest friend of his life--Richard
Wagner. After obtaining leave from the authorities he went to Sorrento,
where, in the autumn of 1876, he began work on his next important book,
_Human, All-too-human_, the book which was to part him for ever from
Wagner. In February 1878 the first volume was ready for the printer,
and was published almost simultaneously with Wagner's Parsifal, which
work, as is well known, was the death-blow to Nietzsche's faith in his
former idol.
In _Human, All-too-human_, Nietzsche as a philosopher is not yet
standing on his own legs, as it were. He is only just beginning to
feel his way, and is still deeply immersed in the thought of other
men--more particularly that of the English positivists. As a work of
transition, however, _Human, All-too-Human_ is exceedingly interesting,
as are also its sequels _Miscellaneous Opinions and Apophthegms_ (1879)
and _The Wanderer and his Shadow_ (1880). But in none of these, as the
author himself admits, is there to be found that certainty of aim and
treatment which characterised his later writings.
In 1879, owing to ill-health, Nietzsche was compelled to resign his
professorship at the University of Bâle, and the spring of that year
saw him an independent man with an annual pension of 3000 francs,
generously granted to him by the Board of Management on the acceptance
of his resignation. With this pension and a small private income
derived from a capital of about £1400, he was not destitute, though by
no means affluent, and when we remember that he was obliged to defray
the expenses of publication in the case of almost every one of his
books, we may form some idea of his actual resources.
From this time forward Nietzsche's life was spent in travelling and
writing. Venice, Marienbad, Zürich, St. Moritz in the Ober-Engadine,
Sils Maria, Tautenberg in Thuringia, Genoa, etc., etc. were among the
places at which he stayed, according to the season; and during the year
1880 his health materially improved. In January 1881 he had completed
the manuscript of the _Dawn of Day_, and is said to have been well
satisfied with his condition.
In the _Dawn of Day_ Nietzsche for the first time begins to reveal his
real personality. This book is literally the dawn of his great life
work, and in it we find him grappling with all the problems which he
was subsequently to tackle with such a masterly and courageous hand. It
appeared in July 1881 and met with but a poor reception. Indeed, after
the publication of the last of the _Thoughts out of Season_ Nietzsche
appears to have created very little stir among his countrymen--a fact
which, though it greatly depressed him, only made him redouble his
energies.
In September 1882 _The Joyful Wisdom_ was published--a book written
during one of the happiest periods of his life. It is a veritable
fanfare of trumpets announcing the triumphal entry of its distinguished
follower _Zarathustra_. With it Nietzsche's final philosophical views are
already making headway, and it is full of the love of life and energy
which permeates the grand philosophical poem which was to come after it.
Disappointed by the meagre success of his works, and hurt by the
attitude of various friends, Nietzsche now retired into loneliness,
and, settling down on the beautiful bay of Rapallo, began work on that
wonderful moral, psychological, and critical rhapsody, _Thus Spake
Zarathustra_, which was to prove the greatest of his creations. During
the years 1883-84, the three first parts of this work were published,
and, though each part was issued separately and met with the same cold
reception which had been given to his other works of recent years,
Nietzsche never once lost heart or wavered in his resolve. It required,
however, all the sublime inspirations which we find expressed in that
wonderful _Book for all and None_, to enable a man to stand firmly and
absolutely alone amid all the hardships and reverses that beset our
anchorite poet throughout this period.
It was about this time that Nietzsche began to take chloral in the
hope of overcoming his insomnia; it was now, too, that his sister
--the only relative for whom, despite some misunderstandings, he had a
real affection--became engaged to a man with whom he was utterly out
of sympathy; and all the while negotiations, into which Nietzsche had
entered with the Leipzig University for the purpose of securing another
professorial chair, were becoming ever more hopeless.
In the course of this exposition I shall have to treat of the doctrines
enunciated in _Thus Spake Zarathustra_--indeed, seeing that this work
contains all Nietzsche's thought in a poetical form, it would be quite
impossible to discuss any single tenet of his philosophy without in
some way referring to the book in question. I cannot therefore say
much about it at present, save that it is generally admitted to be
Nietzsche's _opus magnum_. Besides the philosophical views expounded in
the four parts of which it consists, the value of its autobiographical
passages is enormous. In it we find the history of his most intimate
experiences, friendships, feuds, disappointments, triumphs, and the
like; and the whole is written in a style so magnetic and poetical,
that, as a specimen of _belles-lettres_ alone, entirely apart from the
questions it treats, the work cannot and ought not to be overlooked.
Although there is now scarcely a European language into which
_Zarathustra_ has not been translated, although the fame of the work,
at present, is almost universal, the reception it met with at the
time of its publication was so unsatisfactory, and misunderstanding
relative to its teaching became so general, that within a year of
the issue of its first part, Nietzsche was already beginning to see
the necessity of bringing his doctrines before the public in a more
definite and unmistakable form. During the years that followed--that is
to say, between 1883 and 1886--this plan was matured, and between 1886
and 1889--the year of our author's final breakdown, three important
books were published which may be regarded as prose-sequels to the
poem _Zarathustra_. These books are: _Beyond Good and Evil_ (1886),
_The Genealogy of Morals_ (1887), and _The Twilight of the Idols_
(1889); while the posthumous works _The Will to Power_ (1901) and
the little volume Antichrist, published in 1895, when its author was
lying hopelessly ill at Naumburg, also belong to the period in which
Nietzsche wished to make his _Zarathustra_ clear and comprehensible to
his fellows. In the ensuing chapters it will be my endeavour to state
briefly all that is vital in the works just referred to.
What remains to be related of Nietzsche's life is sad enough, and is
almost common knowledge. When his sister Elizabeth married Dr. Förster
and went to Paraguay with her spouse, Nietzsche was practically without
a friend, and, had it not been for Peter Gast's devotion and help,
he would probably have succumbed to his constitutional and mental
troubles much sooner than he actually did. Before his last breakdown
in Turin, in January 1889, the only real encouragement he is ever
known to have received in regard to his philosophical works came to
him from Copenhagen and Paris. In the latter city it was Taine who
committed himself by praising Nietzsche, and in the former it was Dr.
George Brandes, a clever and learned professor, who delivered a series
of lectures on the new message of the German philosopher. The news of
Brandes' success in Copenhagen in 1888 greatly brightened Nietzsche's
last year of authorship, and he corresponded with the Danish professor
until the end. It has been rightly observed that these lectures were
the dawn of Nietzscheism in Europe.
As the result of over-work, excessive indulgence in drugs, and a host
of disappointments and anxieties, Nietzsche's great mind at last
collapsed on the 2nd or 3rd of January 1889, never again to recover.
The last words he wrote, which were subsequently found on a slip of
paper in his study, throw more light upon the tragedy of his breakdown
than all the learned medical treatises that have been written about
his case. "I am taking narcotic after narcotic," he said, "in order to
drown my anguish; but still I cannot sleep. To-day I will certainly
take such a quantity as will drive me out of my mind."
From that time to the day of his death (25th August 1900) he lingered a
helpless and unconscious invalid, first in the care of his aged mother,
and ultimately, when Elizabeth returned a widow from Paraguay, as his
sister's beloved charge.
For an opinion of Nietzsche during his last phase I cannot do better
than quote Professor Henri Lichtenberger of Nancy, who saw the invalid
in 1898; and with this sympathetic Frenchman's valuable observations, I
shall draw this chapter to a close:--
"In the gradual wane of this enthusiastic lover of life, of this
apologist of energy, of this prophet of Superman there is something
inexpressibly sad--inexpressibly beautiful and peaceful. His brow is
still magnificent--his eyes, the light of which seems to be directed
inwards, have an expression which is indefinably and profoundly moving.
What is going on within his soul? Nobody can say. It is just possible
that he may have preserved a dim recollection of his life as a thinker
and a poet."
[1] Das Leben Friedrich Nietzsche's by Frau Förster-Nietzsche.
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