..persuasive ...

[Pietsch] has illuminated

Copyright © 1991 by Carl PIetsch

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

/
PIetsch, Carl.
Young Nietzsche: becoming a genius Carl PIetsch.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0--02-925042-0
1. Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm, 1844 -1900-Contributions in
notion of genius. 2. Genius. I. Title.
B3318.G46P57 1991
193-dc20
[B] 91-11612
CIP
For Laura
 Contents

Preface and Ackrwwledgments IX

ONE A Genealogy of Genius 1

TWO The Birth of a Genius? 17

THREE Without a Father 31

FOUR Learning to Learn 46

FIVE A Student of Genius 63

SIX Emulating Geniuses 103

SEVEN First Works 126

EIGHT Struggle for Autonomy 159

NINE Redefining Genius 205

Notes 219

SU(!gt!Stinns for Further ReLu1ing 249

Index 253
 Preface and
Acknowledgments,
! was first attracted to Friedrich N ietzsche as an u ndergraduate at
Brigham Young University. He represented a radical indepen­
dence of thought to me, and I wrote my senior honors paper on
what then seemed the most provocative of his ideas. As a graduate
student in intellectual history at the University of Chicago, I de­
cided to write my dissertation about Nietzche as well. By that time,
the fog of adolescent enthusiasm had cleared somewhat, and the /

categories of psychoanalysis came naturally to hand as a means of

explaining his unusual manner of thinking. Fortunately, Profes­
sor William McNeill, my adviser, countenanced and even en­
couraged my interest in psychobiography. The psychoanalytic
focus of the dissertation also led me to a rewarding association
with D r. George Moraitis of the Institute for Psychoanalysis in
Chicago, who helped me to appreciate my own psychological in­
volvement with Nietzsche as well asto avoid some of the pitfalls of
historical diagnosis.
I became dissatisfied with my psychoanalytic treatment of
Nietzsche's life as I realized that it did not suffice to illuminate the
conjuncture of his ideas. Nietzsche had carefully constructed both
his life and his works as monuments of creativity and had cast him­
self in the role of the genius. I began to explore the theory of ge­
nius, which had become, in the nineteenth century, a veritable
ideology, a vehicle for conveying the grand aspirations of unusual
individuals to the culture at large. Many writers and artists em­
ployed it, both to marshal their own energies and to construct
themselves and their oeuvres to fit this new archetype of creative
life, thus making themselves recognizable to the public.
The question of how Nietzsche became a genius, or how he con­
structed himself as a genius, linked what I knew about his unique
personality to the cultural category of genius, a socially con­
structed role. Nietzsche learned about it from widely revered exam-
x Preface and A cknowledgments

pIes like Goethe and Schiller. With his need for fatherly mentors,
he fastened his attention upon these men and emulated them. And
after an extended apprenticeship to Schopenhauer and Wagner,
he assumed the mantle of genius for himself. With this understand.
i � g of Nietzsche's development, I was in a position to write a quite
�
dI ferent book. In fact, I found that the complementary relation­
ShIp of personal psychology and the culture of genius provides a
strategy for investigating many other great and unique creative fig­
ures. I had a research agenda that went far beyond Nietzsche.
I have a great many friends and colleagues to thank for their
confidence in me and my gradually developing project, and for
their friendship. Thanks first to my far-flung friends who believed
that I could bring this to fruition; to former colleagues in the De­
partment of History at the University of North Carolina; in the De­
partment of German at the University of Pittsburgh; and in the
Departments of History at Appalachian State University and the
University of North Carolina at Wilmington; and finally to my cur­
r� nt colleagues at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. In the years
SInce I began to write this book, I have incurred many oth er debts
too personal to mention here, but no less gratefully remembered.
For her sustaining confidence I am particularly grateful to
Joyce Seltzer at The Free Press. Without her encouragement during
the last several years, this book might not have been published.
Without her intellectual advice and editorial criticism, it would be
much less satisfactory than it is.
To my daughter Laura, who can hardly know how much she has
helped with the book, I dedicate it.
 ONE

A Genealogy of Genius
•

son of a Prot­
riedrich Wilh elm Nietz sche was born in 1 844, the
F estan t pasto r, whos e conservative fami ly
� ome a pastor too. But Fried rich was also born
expe cted
into a
the boy to be­
Euro pe where
roma ntic hero es
By� on, G oethe, Mozart, Rous seau, and ot her
Weim ar from all
loom ed as large as kings . Peop le h(i d flock ed to
s, and by the time
over Europe to pay hom age to Goethe as a geniu
nal hero of G er­
Nietz sche was a boy Goet he h ad beco me the natio
� in 1 850, but
many. The idea of genius was hard ly a centu ry"ol,
like Goet he and
among many educ ated peop le creative hero es
clerg ymen and kings as figures
Schil ler had already repla ced both
youn g Nietz sche' s first
of veneration. Goethe would be one of the
he with an al­
heroe s, and the cult of geniu s woul d prov ide N ietzsc
ternative vocat ion to that of the pastorate.
the pro­
The" idea of genius emerged from the Enlightenm ent,
teent h centu ry. Even as
gressive intell ectua l move ment of the eigh
ution , they
radical writers prepared the way for democ ratic revol
roma ntic
were also settin g the stage for the nineteen th century's
in A meric a
heroe s, and its cult of geniu s. All across Euro pe and
eged order s. Bour ­
comm oners were taking the place of the privil
as they de­
geois intellectuals creat ed new roles for them selves
patro ns,
clared their indep enden ce from cleric al caree rs and noble
own
and claim ed the right to reform societ y accor ding to their
2 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

lights. They presented themselves as representatives of the middle

classes generally, and even called themselves the "party of human·
ity." But soon the idea emerged that they constituted an aristocracy
of i? tellect. That would become one of the bases of the theory of
genIus.
.
�
Voltaire's career il ustr� tes ho� the intellectual assumed a sig­
nIficant new role and Identi ty dUri ng the course of the eighteenth
ce ntury. Born a bourgeois as Franc; ois Arouet in 1 694, by 1 725 V ol­
.
taIre had conquered Paris with his plays and added the aristocratic
"de Voltaire" to his name. The nobility took umbrage at his inso­
lence, had Voltaire beaten, arrested, and sent to the Bastille, and
eventually had him exiled from France. But V oltaire remained an
iconoclast, and another half-century of strictly literary combat
made him rich and famous. The public bought his writings, and
such royal patrons as Frederick the Great of Prussia and Catherine
of Russia entreated him to attend them at their courts. When V ol­
taire died in 1 778, he was vindicated precisely by his writing. I He
had broken the rule of deference to aristocracy and to institutional
religion, a rule that men of letters had obeyed for centuries. And he
had established the intellectual as an independent force in West­
ern society.
Voltaire became a model for others. A century later he would
also be one of Nietzsche' s heroes. But, even in V oltaire' s own time,
a whole generation of emancipated thinkers and writers-the philo­
sophes-venerated him in France. These rationalist critics of the
a ristocratic social order placed great faith in knowledge and educ a­
.
tIon. Under the leadership of Denis Did erot they produced The
Grand Encyclopedia ( 1 75 1 - 1 772). The first such compendium of
knowledge, the Encyclopedia was not merely a reference work open­
ing hitherto obscure and often secret knowledge to the public; it
was also the repository of every subversive opinion of the eigh­
teenth century. It met with repression from both the Catholic
Church and the French monarchy. Diderot and some of his collab­
o rators were arrested for the opinions expressed in it; later vol­
u� es were banned and had to be printed in Holland; and
shI� ments of th � book were impounded. Nevertheless, the Encyclo­
pedza was finanCia lly successful, and the views expressed in it be­
came the ideological foundation of the Revolution of 1 789.2 For
the first time, perhaps, the pen wa s proving mightier than the
sword.
 3
A Genealogy of Genius

ues were pub lish ing the Encyclope­

Wh ile Diderot and his coll eag single­
radical man in a mor e li.bera l cou ntry
dia in France , a far less guage. Sam uel
the first Dictionary of the Englzsh Lan
h dedly wrote
::
J nso n was an imp
ove rish ed poe t and essayist, but he
cert ain Lor d Che ster field wou ld und
had bee�
erW
.
rite hIS
led to b elie ve that a d by
. After he had bee n repeatedly rebuffe
efforts on a dict ion ary ano ther
d' s doo r, however, J ohn son fou nd
several boo ksel lers who were WI'11'Ing
servants at Che sterfiel to ad-
mon ey, with a view to pro filu' ng from even
sou rce of supp ort- -
vance him the nec essa ry gre at zctzo
D·· na ry
.?
I
son com ple ted the
tu al sale s. But whe n J ohn
that Che ster field had t.ake.n cred It
1 754, he was surprised to learn tly
creation of his work. J ohn son IndI gnan
for having supp orted the
sterfield, poi ntin? out that he . h� d not
pen ned a letter to Lord Che
iary while workIng on the Dzctzonary,
bee n the grea t man's ben efic
mm end atio n to sell it now that the
and he did. not need his reco
on, my Lor d, one who look s with
work was fi nish ed. "Is not a patr
for life in the wat er, and , whe n he
unc oncer n on a man struggli ng ,,
rs him with help ? Thi s became th e
3
h as reached grou nd, encu mbe
ce from literary patronage.
defi ni tive declaration of inde pen den
ency clop edis ts, and oth­
The succ ess of V olta ire, J ohn son, the
for boo ks and idea� that wou ld
ers proved that there was a market
of patrons and cleri cal care ers.
m ake inte llect uals inde pen den t
ided the basi s for a new inte l­
And this fina ncia l inde pen den ce prov
genr es of thought- an d r ep­
lectu al inde pen den ce, and even for new
created (or recreated)
resentation. Eighteenth- century writers
y, genres that perm itted
autobiography, the nove l, and biograph
als in ent!!� ly new ways.
the pub lic to thin k abou t grea t individu
resu lts.
Thinking in terms ofgeni us was one of the
The read ing pub lic of the time subs crib ed not only to great ed-
ies as well , espe ciall y in
ucational works but to nove ls and biograph
the details ?f � iddl e
Engl and. Biography and the novel dignified
re the pubh c In ways
class life, and put bour geoi s indi vidu als befo
been represen ted pre­
in which only the privileged orders had
man, the imp ressi on
vious ly. When the indi vidu al was a creative
could be dramatic. J ame s Bosw ell' s Life ofSa
rttuelJohnson (179 1 ), for
exam ple, beca me tremendously pop ular . It
is one of the first in­
us for the publ ic min d.
stances in whic h a biography defined a geni
a wit and conv ersa tion al­
It gave such a livel y portrait ofJohn son as
of his interlocutors­
ist-with an intel ligen ce far surp assin g th at
this biograph y than
that John son is better remembered today for
 4 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

for his own writings. For Johnson did not portray himself as a ge­
nius, and the term in its modern sense did not appear in his dictio­
nary.
Among all the novels and biographies of the late eighteenth
century, the works ofJean :J acques Rousseau andJohann Wolfgang
Goethe were perhaps the most important in forming the ideal of
the life of genius. They focused more p articularly upon the interior
life of the young artist and intellectual. Rousseau's Julie, Dr the new
Heloise (176 1 ), and Goethe' s SDrrDws 'Of the YDung Werther (1 774) were
highly romantic stories of artistic young men, prototypes of the ro­
mantic hero and misunderstood genius, great in imagination and
sensitivity but frustrated in love. Werther was translated into every
European language and had such a profound impact that it actu­
ally provoked a wave of suicides in imitation of its hero. Immensely
popular with middle- class readers, these novels were the first mod­
ern best-sellers. In some vague but profound way they also contrib­
uted to the reeducation of European sensibility, turning attention
from the aristocrat to the artist and his noble soul.
Both Goethe and Rousseau addressed the subject of education
in virtually all of their works, returning again and again to the ques­
tion of how to nurture and d evelop one's own self. Theirs was no
longer the critical education of the philDsDphes, who wanted to liber­
ate the middle classes from the shackles of tradition and supersti­
tion by conveying maximum knowledge. It was rather an education
of sensibility, and a liberation of the innate talents and abilities in
individuals. In his Emile, Rousseau eschewed discipline and rote
learning and advocated drawing out what was already present in
the child. And Goethe, with his Wilhelm Meister novels, gave the
term Bildung (education) the new sense of developing unique po­
tential rather than learning what other people had to teach.
Curiously enough this romantic view of education returned at­
tention to birth and innate qualities. The aristocrats of the old re­
gime had placed their confidence in noble blood; romantic writers
invested theirs in innate talent. As if to illustrate how their own
innate talent emerged, Goethe and Rousseau wrote autobiogra­
phies as well. Rousseau's CDnfessiDns, and Goethe's Out 'Of My Life
(Aus meinem Leben, or Dichtung und Wahrheit, as it is often called),
pointed to the uniqueness and organic development of the creative
personality.4 Rousseau announced in the opening passage of his
CDnfessiDns that, once God had made him, He br oke the mold.5 For
his part, Goethe was fond of biological metaphors for the life of the
 A Genealogy of Genius 5

d gradu ally into its foreordain ed

arti st that, like a flowe r, opene
glory. The se autobiographi.es pr
� �
?voked a mirati� n of th roman­
and hIS creatIve gen.lus. apart
tic literary hero while settIng hl � . .
m even the most talent ed of ordIna ry men. By dIStIn guIshI ng ge­
fro
rather than education, the
niu s as inherent, the produ ct of birth
extraordinary new model of
au tobio graphies set in motion an
ent.
hu man exce llenc e and achi evem
By the beginn in g of the ninetee nth century a new unders tand-
?
ing of human greatness ha develo pe
� in Europ e and � meric a.
. the edu cablh . ty of all
Based initial l y upon educa tIon and a faIth In
ed upon a very few
men, a theory of genius had emerg ed that focuss
s was a new aristo c­
individu als born to lead creative lives. Geniu
racy in a much more literal sens � than the philDsD p�es in their quest
The Enhgh tenme nt had
for legitim ate social status had Intende d.
s and had
created the social space for the ninete enth- century geniu
offered one of its first definitions in The Grand EncyclD
pedia. The
au, Goethe , and Byron actually
great romantic heroes like Rousse
provid ed, and lived
stepped onto the stage that that social space
They were, or
out the role of the creative individual as genius .
seemed to have been, born to create.
The differen ce between genius and talent was categorical. O nly
a genius could create, and his creations were so remarkable that
contemporaries could not recognize them immed iately. As one of
Nietz sche' s later mentors put it,

Talent is able to achieve what is beyond other people's capacity to

achieve, yet not to achieve what is beyond their capacity of apprehe n­
sion; therefore it at once finds its apprecia tors. The'ach ievemen t of
genius, on the other hand, transcends not only others' capacity of
achievement, but also their capacity of apprehen sion; therefore they
do not become immedia tely aware of it. Talent is like the marksma n
�ho hits a target which others cannot reach; genius is like the marks­
man who hits a target . . . which others cannot even see.6

The works of those who were deemed geniuses seemed so different

f rom the work of their contemporaries that it was easy to believe
they had been born for their tasks. The genius became the demi­
god of the nineteen th century, and the belief arose that "a genius is
born, not made."
Genius was thus defined by qualities not formerly ascribed to
humans at all, but reserved for God. The romantic generation rev-
 6 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

olutionized aesthetic theory by making the artist a creator. It rede­

fined the artist as the maker of completely new objects, not just the
imitator of God's creations that he had been for centuries. Works
of art ceased to be mirrors of nature and became independent
sources of insight and illumination.7 The genius-artist was credited
with imagination, origin�lity, and creativity-terms and qualities
that at the turn of the nineteenth century were as new as the con­
cept of the genius itself.8 Ascribing such qualities to the genius cul­
minated in the belief that the genius could create ex nihilo, out of
nothing, as God had supposedly done, or at the very least out of his
own soul.
The capacity to create was, however, accompanied by psycho­
logical stress and social isolation, at least in the popular imagina­
tion. The genius seemed obsessed, and burdened by a
responsibility to create. Insanity was associated with genius as well,
and there were enough unbalanced and suicidal creators to con­
firm this prejudice. Even Goethe suffered from morbid tendencies,
evident in The Sorrows of the Young Werther. Goethe, however, over­
came his depression. But another hero of Nietzsche's youth, the
poet Friedrich Holderlin, lost his mind in 1 806 at the age of 36, and
lived on in an asylum until 1 843. Holderlin was considered an "un­
healthy" influence on young people, and when as a schoolboy
Nietzsche wrote an essay praising Holderlin's poetry, he was repri­
manded.9 Society was uncomfortable with such unpredictable
members. The association of genius with insanity was largely de­
fensive: the imputation of insanity served to protect society against
the unexpected and often unwanted eruptions of genius. It was a
time when many harmless creative people were incarcerated in asy­
lums by their relatives and physicians, simply for fear of the un­
10
usual.
Even when geniuses were not suspected of insanity, they were
often perceived to be maladapted and never very conforming to
s?cial conventions. By 1 850 it was apparent that the bourgeois pub­
he could not keep up either in taste or progressive conviction with
the innovations of the avant-garde in art or philosophy. The natu­
ral partnership struck in the late eighteenth century between such
public men as lawyers and the gentry on the one hand, and artists
and intellectuals on the other, did not survive the triumph of the
bourgeoisie; it degenerated into mutual hostility. The middle
classes had become complacent, and in their view, the artists and
intellectuals were becoming progressively more shrill and anti-
 A Genealogy of Genius 7

social. The ideology of genius encouraged creative heroes to follow

their own natural paths of develop ment, paths that most often ran
ainst the grain of convention al bourgeois society. Geniuses as
f
� sparate as the flamboyant French composer Hector Berlioz, the
you ng Richard Wagner, and the revolutio nary Ka�l Marx were clas­
sified as "bohemi an" in the 1 840s, both for theIr works and for
their life-style.
As the genius was becoming alienated from a self-satisfie d mid-
dle class, he became a law unto himself. A romantic artist like Ber­
lioz thou ght he was better qualified to know the virtues of his own
music than the middle-class audience who only wanted to hear
something familiar. He was contemptu ous of the public and would
n ot be deterred from following either his musi(all agenda or his
II
outrageously egotistical life-style. Marx, too, was schooled in the
romantic mythology, and found his mission in a similarly defiant
stru ggle against the theory of the new ruling class. His project was
to critique the whole bourgeois system, but an integral part of the
project was to explain the resistance of the bourgeoisie to innova­
tion of any sort. He showed that the bourgeoisie had been a pro­
gressive force only as long as they were in revolutionary opposition
to the old aristocratic regime. Now that they in turn had become
the dominant class, the bourgeoisie could be relied upon to oppose
every artistic or intellectual provocation of the avant-garde, just as
they opposed the economic interests of the working classes.
Genius was a provocation to middle-class complacency. But the
provocation was not limited to challenges to the social position of
the middle classes, as Marx's logic might suggest._The figure of the
genius was well calculated to incite many kinds of anxiety and am­
bivalence. Different in dress and habits, perhaps even psycho­
pathic, driven to create regardless of the consequences, the genius
seemed strangely motivated and highly unpredictable. What is
more, the genius seemed to create by magic. Mozart, for instance,
wrote down whole symphonies out of his head without revising a
single note. Goethe too awoke mornings with complete poems in
mind. And geniuses did not perform such feats just once, but regu­
larly throughout long careers. It seemed as if they did not have time
in a single life-time to create all that they were capable of. To ordi­
nary people, such men were either demi-gods or devils; perhaps
like Faust, they had contracted with the powers of evil to get their
god-like gifts. In either case they were disturbing.
The genius had become a formidable figure, towering over his
8 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

contemporaries and inspiring both admiration and resentment.

With his power to create ex nihilo, the genius had become a kind of
"unmoved mover," in Aristotle's terminology, forcing his contem­
poraries to orient themselves to his creations. This was a function
that had formerly been assigned to God, who had presumably cre­
ated heaven and earth and given direction to all life. But now there
emerged a pantheon of artists and thinkers who had evidently cre­
ated the world of thought and perception from within which nine­
teenth-century people apprehended life. For many educated
people, God was retreating to the wings, and the genius was taking
his place at the center of the stage. Thus the genius emerged as the
focus of something approaching a secular religion-ironically,
since the invention of the genius in the late eighteenth century was
a function of an emancipation from traditional religion. Most edu­
cated people still needed powerful yet recognizable heroes to pro­
vide authoritative direction.
In a democratic century, this need could only inspire ambiva­
lence. The awed respect that the public paid to the genius was diffi­
cult to reconcile with the rights of popular sovereignty everywhere
asserted by the middle classes. The contradiction was more often
implicit than recognized by contemporaries, but it was quite evi­
dent in Napoleon's case. The great admiration that people across
Europe felt for the military genius who tamed the French Revolu­
tion and humiliated the crowned heads of Europe was matched
only by their resentment of the dictatorial nature that Napoleon
revealed as he crowned himself Emperor of France and subjugated
other European nations. Once the hero of creative people through­
out the continent, once the very embodiment of individual initia­
tive, he earned the ire of men as far apart as Beethoven and
Francisco Goya for becoming a tyrant. 1 2
The public seems to have envied not only the creative powers
of the genius, but also his corresponding freedom from social con­
vention and even his willful behavior. At the same time, the public
disapproved of precisely the thing it admired, and often perceived
depravity and immorality in the genius. Thus, what the genius in­
spired most of all was ambivalence. Great admiration could quickly
be transformed into bitter disappointment and rejection, as when
Beethoven angrily struck Napoleon's name from the title page of
his Third Symphony and renamed it "the Heroic Symphony."13
Perhaps this profound ambivalence lies at the root of the idea that
the genius is always "ahead of his time," for in spite of the most
 A Genealogy of Genius 9

edly found it difficu lt

profound admiration, contemporaries repeat
accept geniuses on their own often dictato rial terms. Psycholog­
�� allY at least, the geniu s had becom e more diffic
ult to approach
some of us find it as
than the kings of the old regime. Even now,
the genius as Moses
difficult to look directly upon the creativity of
burn ing bush .
did to look upo n God in the
This ambivalence was naturally reflected in biography, which
as as a ��ans
became a primary mean s of propagating geniu s, well .
or cnt�C1sm.
of policing the pantheon of genius through eulogy
ed In the
The genre of multi-volumed "lives and works" was invent
lize geniu s. But as Lytton
nineteenth centu ry to monu menta
Strachey noted, the welter of biog:ap� ic det�il tended to trivial ize
.
Ing
the creative achievements of genIUS . And In a speech accept
the
the Goethe Prize in 1 930, Freud worried that "even the best and
fulle st" biographies could "not throw any light upon the riddle of
the miraculous gift that makes an artist." Such detaile d investi ga­
tions inevitably uncover disapp ointing moments in the life of a
great man, and even the most lau �atory biographies entail oe� ipal
rivalry and tend to bring the genIUS down to human proportIons.
Nevertheless Freud conclu ded that educated people must "put up"
with biography, because ambivalence about the great is inescapa-
bly human:

Our attitude to fathers and teachers is, after all, an amb ivalent one
since our reverence for them regularly conceals a compone nt of hos­
tile rebellion . This is a psycholo gical fatality; it cannot be altered with­
out forcible suppressi on of the truth and is boun<t, to extend to our
relations with the great men whose life histories we'wish to investi-
gate.15

Freud emphasized the undercurrent of emotional hostility to­

wards genius, rather than the admiration of genius. Disappoi nt­
ment had diverted many people's attention from the greatness of a
Goethe or a Napoleon . The very difficulty of the musical composi­
tions of Berlioz and Wagner disappointed nineteenth -century con­
certgoers and occasionally brought bedlam to concert halls. But
the tendency to denigrate geniuses was (and is) only a compensa­
tion for the often excessive worship of creative heroes. Such extrav­
agant admiration seemed incongruou s and even embarrassi ng to
some people, who found it easy, for example, to ridicule the syco­
phantic admirers who gathered in Bayreuth to worship at the altar
 10 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

of Wagner's genius. However, awe and admiration have been the

dominant attitudes toward genius and underlie every disappoi nt­
ment.
Genius worship thus entailed the desire to experien ce som e
measure of the genius's creativity. Listening to the music of Mozart,
Beethoven, Berlioz, or Wagner, reading the works of Rousseau or
Goethe, afforded (and still affords) the vicarious exhilaratio n of
creativity. And it helped the citizens of the nineteenth century be­
come more aware of their own creative resources . (In fact much of
the art and philosoph y of that century was about creativity.) People
found it inspiring even to read biographies of geniuses, and biog­
raphy became a genre in which potent "ego ideals"- perso nal
models suitable for emulation-were realized and circulated . In
the middle classes particularly, the subjects of biograph ies ofte n
became the heroes of young men and women deciding upon their
own ambitions . Thus biography became a genre not only for bring­
ing demi-gods down to human proportio n, but for enlarging the
experience of educated people. And genius became a self-propa­
gating ideology. Genius begat genius, and even ordinary people
could identify with the creative lives of their heroes. In this sense at
least, genius was democratic.
When Nietzsche was a boy in the 1 850s, every young man with
talent and access to a good education could wonder if he was a ge­
nius. Nietzsche was inevitably exposed to Goethe, Beethoven, and
other cult-figures at an early age. But his family of Protestant pas­
tors had its own tradition. Not only were the boy's father and two
grandfathers parsons, but most of his other known ancestors as
well. It probably never occurred to the Nietzsches that Friedrich
might discover in himself an ambition to genius that would carry
him away from the study of theology or the vocation of pastor, even
though the Lutheran pastorate was the intellectual elite of Protes­
tant Germany. Being born the first son in such a family practically
guaranteed that Friedrich would receive a university education . As
he grew older and his educational horizons expanded, his expo­
sure to genius in the intellectual and popular culture became ever
broader.
When Friedrich was barely five years old, family tragedy struck
when his father, Pastor Ludwig Nietzsche, died. His mother
Franziska would never remarry, so Friedrich grew up in a house­
hold that consisted of his mother and sister, two paternal aunts, his
grandmother, and several maids, but no men. Throughout his early
 A Genealogy of Genius 11

rfi
I e, Nie tzsche would be unusually attracted to father figures, older
m�ro f m whom he seemed to crave guidance if not precisely affec- .
.uon. The fathers of Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug, two of hIS
. I d I ·Iterary Interest
b oyho od friends, first inspired ? is mUSlCa an
. a� d
caII ed his atten tion to such genIuses of the day as Goethe and Fehx
. an I
Mendelssoh n. Nietzsch e would remain susceptI·bl e to mUSIC d ·It-
eratu re as well as to fatherly mentors. His early attachment s to the
'I c ·
. n WIt .
elder Pinder and Krug prefigure Nietzsche s ater lasClnatio h
Schopenhauer and Wagner in the most remark�ble way.
Nietzsche went mainly to private school until 1 858, when at the
age of fourteen he was awarded a free place at the famous boarding
scho ol of Schulpforta. There it was remarked that he was an ear­
nest, sickly boy, a hard worker, and ul �imate!y an excellent scholar.
No one noticed whether he was a genIus. PrIvately he wrote poetry
and compo sed music, and he wrote a short autobio�aphy that he
entitl ed Out ofMy Life, in imitation of Goethe. Yet he dId not record
any intentio n of becoming either a poet or a musician. By the time
he graduate d from Schulpforta, however, he had. thor�)l� ghly �as­
tered Greek and Latin and was already engaged In OrIgInal phIlo-
/ logical research. As he passed his final examinations, one of his
teachers remarked that he was the best student of philology that
Schulpforta had seen in a generation. He seemed a budding
scholar, but nothing more. His record at school suggests that he
possessed considerable native intelligence, good discipline, and
ambition.
Predictably, Nietzsche enrolled at the university as a student of
theology. Within a year, however, he told his mot��r that he did
not believe in God, and declared he would not become a pastor. He
found a fatherly mentor in Professor Friedrich Ritschl, a philolo­
gist. A skillful and productive student, Nietzsche became Ritschl's
favorite pupil. In fact the fatherless Nietzsche and the childless
Ritschl became mutually involved in the roles of surrogate father
and son. Ritschl thought well enough of Nietzsche's seminar papers
to publish several of them in the journal that he edited-an ex­
tremely unusual distinction. Nietzsche was highly motivated by this
nurturance and for a time he felt certain that he was destined for a
career in philology.
Just as Nietzsche was gaining recognition in philology, how­
ever, he discovered the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer, who
became another paternal mentor, and Nietzsche's interest in phi­
losophy began to rival his interest in the classics. Nietzsche was
 12 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

struck by the ethical dimension of Schopenhauer's philosophy,

and his life took on new meaning and direction as a result. H e was
unable, however, to resolve his conflicting feelings toward his two
teachers, or to decide between the two fields of study before he was
invited to apply for the job of professor of classical philology at the
University of Basel. Ritschl recommended him extravagantly, and
he was given the job, even without writing a thesis. At twenty-four
Nietzsche seemed destined for a brilliant career in philology.
Nietzsche was still trying to clarify his ambitions as he took up
his duties at Basel and came into the orbit of Richard Wagner, who
was also living in Switzerland. Wagner was an extravagant person­
ality, an acclaimed genius with truly grandiose pretensions who fas­
cinated Nietzsche more than any of his earlier heroes. Since
Wagner professed to be a disciple of Schopenhaue r as well,
Nietzsche was able to merge his idealization of the one with his per·
sonal fascination for the other. Wagner, furthermore, was eager to
have Nietzsche as his disciple. He was not at all reluctant to direct
Nietzsche's career, and encouraged Nietzsche to orient his philo­
logical writing to problems of contemporary culture. The fruit of
this intense relationship was Nietzsche's first book, The Birth of
Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music. From 1 870 to 1 876 Wagner was the
primary influence in Nietzsche's life, and Nietzsche's emotional de­
pendence upon Wagner became profound. He subordinated him­
self to the composer in the most abject fashion. Nevertheless, this
servitude was apparently an essential step in Nietzsche's creative
development.
Nietzsche had been exposed to the culture of genius since early
childhood, admiring Goethe, Holderlin, and others as heroes.
Then, in Schopenhauer, Nietzsche found an explicit theory of ge­
nius as well as a philosophical hero whose accomplishm ents of­
fered him a starting point for his own creative life's work. But these
men were distant idols who lived in books. Wagner was a tangible
presence who would activate Nietzsche's affinity with genius and
give him a personal connection to it. Wagner's personal magnetism
led Nietzsche into the magic circle of genius, a field of forces in
which he saw Wagner's creativity drawing to itself great talents
working to realize the master's works, the love of an adoring and
self-effacing wife, sycophantic hangers-on , great expense, publicity
and scandal, and true popular adulation. Thus in his relationship
with Wagner, the whole phenomeno n of genius was crystallized in
the most personal way. Nietzsche had finally found an approach-
 A Genealogy of Genius 13

able m odel of genius !ro�

whom he could learn the role and then
visu alize himself playIng It.
N·Ie tzsche' s intelle ctual persona changed
from the moment he
dry, WrItten In th e
. .
'
came under Wagner s influence. The Birth of Trage
fi1r s t flush of his Wagnerian
enthusia sm, reveals that he had already
begu n to think ambitious ly. The book' s speculativ
and write more e
. S
nature b etrays the
th an precocIou
. . . f;
work of a philosoph er rather a
.
ph'l 1 0lo gy professor.
It was so speculatIve, so InnovatIve, In act,
Iy
that Nietzsche was suddenly isolated as a ph 1' l 0IOgiSt ' and VICIOUS"
ttacked for his lack of professio nalism. The Birth of Tragedy pro­
a k es the question about Nietzsche as an emerging genius: How

��d he manage to go so far and so audaciously beyond the limits of

his professional training, even in his first book? .
By his mid-twenties Nietzsche had already become a creatIve
force who knew how to think and express things that no one could
have taught him-no t Friedrich Ritschl, not Schopenhauer, and
certainly not Wagner. Trying to please Wagner, however, Nietzsche
had synthesized his knowledge of the ancient Greeks with an ethi­
cal impulse derived from Schopenhauer. In the process he had cre­
ated an original interpretation of ancient Greek culture. He had
apparently devised-or taught himself-his own way of learning, a
method that would permit him to continue to extend his ideas and
the range of his thinking throughout his life. This is characteristic
of genius. Nietzsche ' s deep admiratjon for his "fathers" and es� e-
.
dally his desire to please Wagner were the catalysts of thIS creative
leap.
�, Wagner kept Nietzsche in thrall for another fou! years after the
publication of The Birth of Tragedy. Nietzsche remained in the role
of disciple and even permitted Wagner to dictate what he should
write and publish. His own susceptibility to fatherly mentors and
Wagner's tyrannical nature conspired together. And the culture of
genius, which exalted such men as Wagner out of all proportion,
foresaw just such feudal relationships. Thus Nietzsche did not be­
come a fully independent creator until after his definitive break
with Wagner at the first Festival of Wagner's Ring of the Nibelungen
in Bayreuth in 1 876. But in that period he learned a great deal
more about the role of the genius from Wagner's example: in par­
ticular, the absolute egotism of the genius, which did not come at
all naturally to Nietzsche. It was this role, that Nietzsche learned
from Wagner, that fitted him to his creative mission. It permitted
him to complete his transformation from a provincial son of a Lu-
14 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

theran pastor and sometime professor of philology into a worl d­

renowned nihilist philosopher.
When Nietzsche did finally clarify his own creative mission, it
turned out to be "the transvaluation of all values-die Umwertung
aller Werte," overturning culture itself. He undermined the episte­
mology, metaphysics, morality, science, and the very logic of West­
ern thought. He attempted to discredit nearly every ideal and
heroic figure, starting with Socrates, whose influence he had al­
ready decried in The Birth of Tragedy, but extending even to his own
genius-mentors: Schopenhauer, and especially Wagner.
Nietzsche's attack was unusually radical, insofar as he eschewed
any systematic alternatives to the idols he toppled. He aspired to
abolish truth itself. Yet his strategy was not mere iconoclasm. It was
an oddly affirmative sort of nihilism, entailing cheerful truthful­
ness about the absence of objective truth. Nietzsche proposed to
affirm life after the death of God, when life could have no intrinsic
meaning. He attempted to impose values where none were to be
found, and preached a gospel of loving one's fate (amorfati). It was
a form of moral life without the reassurance of truth or morality.
This was perhaps the most drastic assault upon Western thinking
that had ever been mounted. It carried to an extreme a certain crit­
ical tendency that is inherent in Western thought, but its effect was
to undermine the entire tradition for the first time. The radical
and unanticipated nature of Nietzsche's attack highlights the ques­
tion of how he, in particular, came to make it.
Nietzsche exerted himself at every stage of his life in order to
become what he was. His youth was a struggle against his family's
determination that he become a pastor. But Nietzsche's rebellion
against family and religion did not free him for a life of hedonism.
Quite the contrary, his life turned out to be one of almost monastic
austerity and perseverance, primarily because he retained a deep
and very spiritual need for a calling in life. With a strong sense of
the "protestant ethic" he worked hard in school and throughout
his early years to fulfill his potential. Tothe end of his life, he con­
tinued to describe his work as "a mission" -Nietzsche did not be­
come the radical thinker easily.
More was required, however, than intelligence and dedication.
These qualities made Nietzsche a professor at an early age. And if
he had been more certain that his calling was philology, he might
have had a rewarding life as a scholar and professor in Basel, like
his colleague, the great historian Jacob Burckhardt, writing great
 A Genealogy of Genius 15

revolution in his life. But Nietzsche w �s

books withou t any further lacked Burckhardt s
a· mu ch you
nger man than Burckhardt, and
world. Further,. Nletzsche was Stl'11'In fatu-
. .
.
I ronIc dI'stanCe from the ied by Schop �nhauer and
ated with the power of genius as exemphf
Wagner. Their examples provided t� e impetu s for hIm to trans­
n.
form and transcend himself once agaI
Nietzsche does not confor m well to the popular definition of
nth century unders tood it. Rather, his ca­
the genius as the ninetee
reer suggests that genius is a role that has to be learned and nur-
tured. Nietzsche learned about
genius not only from h'IS read'lng,
but from his extended discipleship to tw� 0f th e genIuse . s 0f h ·IS
time. Havi ng lost his own father so early, hIS youth and early man­
hood were consumed by a search for a surrogate father, and when
he found Schop enhauer and Wagner
, he apprenticed himself to
them and reformed himself as much as possible in their image.
Nie t;sche's early career thus reveals something about the role of
ge nius that is not so apparent in the lives of other creative individ­
uals, namely, that it must be learned.
Geniu s as a culturally defined role did not even exist before the
mid-eighteenth century. It is specific to the modern era that an ex­
tniordinarily gifted individual can hope to be an economically self­
sufficient specialist. The modern genius is quite distinct from the
so-called Renaissance Man, who was not far removed from a crafts­
man and had to perform a variety of services for his patron. A ge­
nius must by definition have a mission unique to himself, defined
by and for himself. Instead of serving others, he must become com­
pletely dedicated to himself as well as to his calling-or�mbition. The
role is psychologically rigorous, in open conflict with the social
mores of modern society that require cooperation and reciprocity
from, most people. Absolute egotism does not come naturally. It
must be learned. Nietzsche learned it in a painful and well-docu­
mented way. Others have undoubtedly learned the role of the ge­
nius too, but without the humiliating apprenticeship that
Nietzsche underwent with Wagner, and privately enough for it not
to become apparent to their contemporaries.
Nietzsche's life demonstrates that genius is not born, but made,
and by a process far less magical than the romantic ideology of ge­
nius may make it seem. Like every other creative individual, he had
to make his life in the world as he found it. Karl Marx wrote, "Men
make their own history, but notjust as they wish; not under circum­
stances of their own choosing, but under the given and inherited
16 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

circumstances that directly confront them." 1 6 It could be a descrip­

tion of genius. Nietzsche created himself in rebellion against the
circumstances of his birth. But he was also the beneficiary of those
circumstances.
Nietzsche had to overcome the narrow expectations of his fam­
ily and reject the religious and ethical values that he had inherited
before he could even imagine himself as a philosopher. But he also
inherited a sense of duty and calling. He absorbed the nineteenth­
century assumption that mastery of the classical languages and ini­
tiation into historical methods of thinking were prerequisites of
intellectual excellence and accomplishment. Perhaps most impor­
tantly, he learned the theory of genius, and oriented himself per­
sonally to genius in the figures of Schopenhauer and Wagner. And
finally, rebelling against his mentors too, he created himself as a
genius. Making himself a genius, he made his own history.
 TW O

The Birth of a Genius?

•

he philosopher Nietzsche was born in the village parsonage of

TRocken (near Liitzen) in the Prussian part of Saxony on the
fifteenth of October, 1 844. The child's father, the pastor Karl Lud­
wig Nietzsche, had been in the village little more than a year. He
had formerly been a tutor at the ducal court at Altenberg, where he
had come to the attention of the 'new Prussian king, Friedrich
Wilhelm IV (r. 1840-1861). The king personally had Ludwig ap­
pointed to the pastorate at Rocken, an appointlgent that greatly
improved Ludwig Ni�tzsche's finances and social status. It enabled
him to gather his widowed mother and his two sisters into a house­
hold of their own; and it not only put him in a position to marry­
it virtually obliged him to marry.
As the new pastor visited the other parsonages in his district,
making the acquaintance of his fellow-ministers and their families,
he was also looking for a wife. Ludwig soon found himself attracted
to Franziska Oehler, one of the daughters of Pastor David Oehler
in the neighboring village of Pobles. A few months later the couple
were married on Ludwig's birthday, in October 1 843, and
Franziska joined the Nietzsche household. Franziska Oehler was
only eighteen years old; Ludwig was thirty.l Our Nietzsche was
their first child, born just a year after their marriage, and, as fate
would have it, on the birthday of the king, Friedrich Wilhelm IV. It
18 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

was for this reason, as well as because of the monarch's patronage

of Ludwig Nietzsche, that the child was named Friedrich Wilhelm.2
Nietzsche's parents were dissimilar in many respects and came
from quite different families, but his genealogy is remarkably ho­
mogeneous in at least one respect. Max Oehler, a cousin of
Nietzsche who collected the genealogy, indicates that more than
twenty percent of the ninety-six male ancestors known to him were
pastors, most of the rest being merchants or officials, thus Burger,
rather than farmers. Furthermore, Oehler notes a tendency of
Nietzsche's ancestors to move from the upper middle class, or
Burgertum, into the Lutheran ministry on both the paternal and ma­
ternal sides. Thus, in the several generations immediately prior
to Friedrich's birth, virtually all of his relatives occupied parsonages.3
This made Nietzsche an example of why the Lutheran pastorate
was considered the genealogical source of Germany's intelli­
gentsia. In fact, the ministry, or Pfarrerstand, was almost a caste. The
best minds in Germany were selected from all classes by rigorous
examination. Trained for the pastorate at the university, they be­
came the educated elite of the country. And they tended to inter­
marry, forming a sub-society within German society at large.4
Genealogical explanations of intellectual brilliance and cre­
ativity are always after-the-fact, and never very satisfying. However,
we cannot reject the hereditary explanation of Nietzsche's bril­
liance, because it is, after all, a version of the theory of the genius
according to which genius consists of inborn ability-a notion that
has prevailed in all Western countries since the eighteenth century.
Unfortunately, we cannot know precisely what part biological he­
redity played in Friedrich Nietzsche's abilities. But even if we admit
that Nietzsche was the beneficiary of an unusual degree of native
intelligence, this did not make him a genius. His intelligence might
have developed in many different ways other than the path it ulti­
mately took.
Hereditary intelligence is not the only explanatory hypothesis
that can be drawn from the genealogy. It is important, for example,
that Nietzsche was born into an educated elite sufficiently distinct
and self-conscious to be called a Stand or estate. The Lutheran pas­
tors were the German mandarins of the nineteenth century.5 To be
born into such an exclusively ministerial family as Nietzsche's was
to inherit social status, educational privilege, and a responsibility
to carry on the tradition. Whatever genetic advantages and liabili­
ties his ancestors may have bequeathed to him, they also willed him
 The Birth of a Genius? 19

great expectations. A t the minimum h e should go to the university,

study theology, and become a pastor. It might also be hoped that he
would rise to a high position in the clergy, perhaps even fulfilling
the promise of his father by becoming the official preacher at the
prussian court. Certainly these aspirations were set before him.
Karl Ludwig Nietzsche's own father-Friedrich Nietzsche's
grandfather-had been dead for years by the time Friedrich was
born in 1 844. He was Friedrich August Ludwig Nietzsche, born in
1 782, himself the son of an important Lutheran bureaucrat. By the
age of twenty-eight, he had earned his masters degree in theology
and had already been appointed independent pastor in the town
ofWollmirstadt, where he remained for twenty years. He proved to
be a prolific writer on both pastoral and theological subjects. His
publications and faithful service to his congregation eventually led
to promotion to the office of chief pastor in the city of Eilburg and
superintendent of the pastors in the surrounding area. Shortly
after this move his wife died, leaving him with seven children. But
he soon married the widow of another important clergyman,
twenty-two years his junior. This marriage yielded three more chil­
dren.
Late in his life Friedrich August Nietzsche's theological writ­
ings were again recognized and he was awarded a doctorate by the
university at Konigsberg.6 His writings have naturally been men­
tioned by many Nietzsche biographers as genealogical omens of his
grandson's career. 7 But he had another, indirect influence upon
his grandson's life. At his death at the age of seventy in 1826 he
left his forty-eight-year-old wife a widow for the se<::o nd time, with
three dependent children (including the twelve-year-old future
pastor Ludwig, father of Friedrich).8 She lived on until 1 856, play­
ing a prominent role in Friedrich's early childhood.
Karl Ludwig Nietzsche lived only half as long as his father, but
his life bore the stamp of his father's biography in several respects.
Ludwig grew up in a family securely embedded in the elite of the
provincial bureaucracy: his father was a clerical superintendent,
one grandfather an archdeacon, and so on� They were loyal ser­
vants of the conservative aristocratic order and highly conscious of
their responsibility in maintaining religion and order in Lutheran
society. When his father died, the twelve-year-old Ludwig, now the
only male in the family, took his new role and responsibility very
seriously, working hard to please his mother and to prepare him­
self for his profession. At an early age he was placed in a position
 20 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

to imagine himself the head of the household and to assume the re­
sponsibilities of his social class. At the same time, however, he was
deprived of an important source of experience that could have tem­
pered his concern with his future roles-the constant comparison
that an adolescent boy makes between himself and his father. Perhaps
partly as a result of this pressure to follow in his departed father's
footsteps, Ludwig was for the rest of his life a rigidly earnest man.
The report summarizing Ludwig Nietzsche's performance in
the Gymnasium and a letter of recommendation written by one of
his professors as he completed his university studies are verita­
ble catalogues of the virtues of the educated middle class, or
Bildungsbiirgertum. At school, he had earned the love and respect
of his teachers by being punctual, obedient, industrious, and
persistent; and his love of order and untiring zeal for duty were
exenlp lary. I n the u n iversity he was reportedly a perfect
student-industrious, pious, earnest, and modest; he had also won
the annual preaching contest. His practice sermons were meticu­
lously prepared and elaborately presented. This record apparently
earned him the position of tutor at the ducal court. And when he
came to the attention of the Prussian King a few years later, moral
earnestness, correct manners, and fastidious personal presentation
were his most salient characteristics. Friedrich Wilhelm IV was im­
pressed.9
In his position as pastor at Rocken, Karl Ludwig carried on his
meticulous personal presentation. Especially noted were his fine
dress and stilted preaching. When Ludwig visited the Oehlers in
Pobles before the wedding, Franziska was impressed that his
clothes were of "a fineness which one only wore at court." Of
course Ludwig had lived at the provincial court as a tutor, and his
daughter recorded that some people thought he might reach the
position of Hofprediger or court preacher in Berlin, probably be­
cause of his acquaintance with Friedrich Wilhelm IV. lO But what­
ever his aspirations for the future, his fancy attire was out of place
in Rocken and must have put a distance between himself and his
rural congregation. His supervisor approved of his work as a pas­
tor, calling it praiseworthy in every respect, emphasizing that he
was energetic and hard-working; but he noted that Ludwig's
preaching was excessively ornamented . Besides being the very
model of a loyal, conservative pastor, Ludwig was apparently dan­
dified and histrionic. Perhaps even by nineteenth-c entury stan­
dards he took himself and his responsibili ties too seriously.
 The Birth ofa Genius? 21

Lu dwig's wife Franziska, o n the other hand, grew up i n a free

and vigorous family environment, the sixth of eleven children. The
O ehlers seem to have been Christian in belief, but profane in char­
acter. l l Franziska's father David Oehler had a hard youth as the or­
ph aned son of a weaver. But his quick intelligence was noticed and
he managed to get an education and become pastor of the little
village of Pobles. He courted and married Johanna Hahn, appar­
ently the wealthiest girl in his home town. Her ancestors comprised
a richly endowed family which had resided in the region as long as
anyone could remember; her father had extensive possessions of
his own as well as lands in fief from the king. When Johanna mar­
ried David Oehler, her father gave her a coach, a coachman, a cook,
and other servants-a rather unusual dowry for a simple pastor's
bride, to say nothing of an orphaned weaver's son.
To his granddaughter Elisabeth, writing long after Pastor
Oehler's professional and marital successes had become matters of
fact, David Oehler seemed a cheery and intelligent man. He was
one of an old style of easygoing pastors who didn't find anything at
all wrong with riding in the hunt (with a mounted servant behind
him to carry his guns), or playing an occasional game of cards. Al­
though Pastor Oehler was neither musician nor poet, his house was
filled with music, his children recited poetry, and the family consti­
tuted its own theater troupe with more than enough actors for
most purposes. He loved to have people about him and seems to
have succeeded in maintaining a house full of guests. He had time
left over to be enterprising, however, and his parsonage was a real
farm in competition with his neighbors and parishinl1ers. In short,
he was a man of great'energy who not only knew how to work, but
how to enjoy the fruits of his labor. 1 2
His wife Johanna, coming from a comparatively wealthy back­
ground, was nonetheless a "genuinely healthy German Hausfrau."
She did not worry overmuch about her children; in fact, her grand­
daughter Elisabeth Nietzsche had the impression that she had
raised them rather callously. Yet she had nursed all of her eleven
children herself and was extremely indulgent with her grandchil­
dren. The difference probably was the size of the families:Johanna
had so many children and such a large household that she must
have been something of a manager, letting the children raise each
other as much as possible; the contrast with the way in which
Franziska was to raise her children, Friedrich and Elisabeth, could
not have been greater. At any rate, none ofJohanna's children had
22 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

the difficulty cutting their apron strings that Ludwig Nietzsche did.
It seems that the Oehlers had a life-style almost opposite that of the
Nietzsches: they had health, energy, a zest for life in all of its as­
pects, and a tendency not to take things too seriously.13
Franziska Oehler's problem was how to fit into the Nietzsche
family. Before the wedding both families had doubts about the out­
come. Pastor Oehler forecast the solution on an awkward occasion
when Ludwig's mother made an unannounced visit. She was nearly
knocked off her feet by Franziska's hearty embrace and obviously
unsettled by the lack of formality in the Oehler home. The pastor
commented that Frau Nietzsche would have to make herself the
gardener of this wild young plant when Franziska moved into her
household; only then would Franziska become the dignified wife
that Ludwig required. 1 4 And after the marriage, Frau Nietzsche was
in a position to play just the role that Franziska's father had sug­
gested, for Ludwig modeled the family on his adolescent home,
with his mother in charge and all major departments of domestic
responsibility delegated to his sisters, Rosalie and Augusta.
Franziska was the only youth in the family where even her husband
was twelve years her senior. She had little to do and no authority in
a family whose roles had long been defined; only as her own chil­
dren arrived did she acquire a domain of her own. As her daughter
Elisabeth later described the division of labor in the family, tend­
ing the children appears to be the only responsibility granted to
Franziska. 1 5
It seemed to Franziska's own brothers and sisters that she had
quickly adapted to her new family, becoming "horribly courteous
and cultivated almost overnight." But she herself preserved a mem­
ory of the traumatic adjustment. Especially difficult were her rela­
tionships with the other women, particularly with her temperamental
sister-in-law Rosalie, who was constantly giving her orders. Ludwig's
response on the occasions when Franziska defended herself from
the other women was to withdraw to his study, where he stayed, de­
nying himself food, drink, and conversation until harmony was
fully restored. 1 6 Although Franziska may have been brought into
line by such behavior, she seems also to have preserved her own
inner balance. She was usually able to observe her earnest new fam­
ily with a sense of humor quite foreign to them, as in the record she
made in her diary of her husband's sudden enthusiasm for patent
medicine. He wanted to cure the family even when they were not
sick, she thought; she would not submit to his cure, for she was sure
 The Birth of a Genius? 23

that she could cure herself quicker with water in the event that she
really fell ill. Perhaps her own family background gave her strength
to maintain her sense of self in spite of a rigorous outward adapta-
Co '1
tion to her new laml y. 17
There is no evidence that the difference in family background
or eve n Franziska's awkward position in the household led to open
conflict between the two spouses. In fact, what one can learn from
h er letters indicates that Franziska grew into a dutiful wife and
m other in the Nietzsche household, much as her father had pre­
dicted she might. Yet we know that the burden of adaptation was
up on her rather than upon the Nietzsches. And since she bore her
first child, Friedrich, in the first year of her marriage, and her sec­
ond, Elisabeth, only a year and a half later, she could hardly have
avoided communicating this stress to her children. Her nephew
Adalbert Oehler, who obviously saw the marriage from the Oehler
perspective, was aware of her awkward position but admired her
IS
personal resources . Like countless other women, Franziska ac­
cepted the whole responsibility for making the best of an awkward
marriage, at considerable cost to herself. She dedicated her whole
energy to adapting to the expectations of her husband and his fam­
ily.
Trying to become an obedient wife and daughter-in-law was a
multiple challenge for this once carefree girl. She had not only to
adapt to a new and austere family in which her freedom, responsi­
bility, and authority were curtailed, but she had to do without the
easy companionship of her brothers and sisters. She had no friends
in Rocken. And she assumed the role of mothec�lmost immedi­
ately. It is not hard to imagine how she would devote-herself to her
children. They were the only work and responsibility left to her
after family authority had been parceled out among her mother­
and sisters-in-law. Her children were also her only diversion. Thus
the organization of the household and differences in family back­
ground set the stage for an otherwise strong and secure young
mother to depend inordinately upon her babies for her sense of
well-being. This must have been especially so with her first-born
son Friedrich.
One can imagine two possible psychological effects: Franziska's
intense concern with Friedrich might have stimulated in the child
an overweening preoccupation with himself, or it might have made
his rivalry with his father for his mother's attentions all the more
poignant. And while nothing more definite can be said about these
24 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

hypotheses than about the boy's hereditary intelligence, both

consistent with his behavior in later life.
Given her mother's record of having nursed all of her el
children, and her own attitudes about personal health, we may
sume that Franziska nursed her own children; yet we do not
how long or how enthusiastically she did so. Her children's pers
alities did not notably demonstrate that sense of trust which
Erikson suggested should be the result of successful breast feed
and weaning. 1 9 Perhaps the children had traumatic experiences
subsequent stages of development. If toilet training was difficult,
would probably have been on account of their Aunt Augusta,
was in charge of house-cleaning and preoccu pied with cleanli
But Friedrich was not notably acquisitive or possessive; quite
contrary, he accumulated almost nothing but his own writings.20
Ludwig was rapturous at the birth of his son. But his passion
order and hints in family memoirs lead one to suspect that
avoided his children, just as he avoided the conflicts between
women of the household. His primary desire in respect to his c
dren was probably that they be kept quiet. It is difficult to n · na:�lIlle
him playing with them or occupying himself with the day"
problems of their development. That Ludwig may have avoided
children is plausible in view of Franziska's exclusive devotion
them. But nothing definite can be said about how Friedrich
treated in early childhood beyond the family structure and a_
sphere reconstructed here.21
An autobiography of about thirty pages, that Friedrich
when he was fourteen, reveals what seemed salient to him then,
reflects his feelings about those events when he was still
young.22 One of the first problems of Friedrich's childhood im
tant enough to stick in the family's memory (and signifi
enough for him to record) was that he had been slow in learning
speak. As an adolescent, Friedrich wrote that this was a tradi ·
that he was loath to hear, still less believe.23 Yet, apparently, he h
only learned to talk at age two and a half. His parents worri
about this and consulted a doctor. The doctor explained that it w
a simple matter of the child having been spoiled, for since th
were given to him virtually before he required them, he had no
had to express his wishes. According to Elisabeth's account, this
agnosis led to teasing, trying to make Friedrich say the word
desirable things heldjust out of his reach.24 A suspicious part of
story has it that his favorite object was a drawing of his
 The Birth of a Genius? 25

Nietzsche, resulting in his first word being "Oma"

a), in stead of "Mama;" it is an anecdote that speaks more
'��:{jGr:anC1IJ]l
of the dominant role of grandmother Nietzsche in that
" "llOtlIS�J:I UIU than it does of the child.
r.The c oun try doctor's observation that Friedrich had been
s'' �iled (in
the sense of being over-attended) seems plausible
1
· , 0ugh. But over -attention seems unlikely to delay the develop­
� ent of a child's ability to speak
C:>ther. T he re are some who say
or to distinguish between self and
that linguistically gifted children
often learn to speak late; if this were more than folklore, it would
buttress the idea that Friedrich was hereditarily gifted.25 But the
.two-y ear- old child could hardly have understood the deliberate
wit hh oldin g and teasing, applied as a remedy for his inability to
talk. This could only have led to feelings of helplessness and rage.
In the same passage of youthful autobiography where he ad-
tnits his lateness at learning to speak, Friedrich relates the family
tradition that as a small child he was "a little bull-headed"
(starrkiipfig). From the scantiness of the evidence it is impossible to
e ascertain whether this willfulness was an innate character trait, a
phase (the terrible twos), or a reaction to difficulties in mastering a
specific developmental challenge (such as toilet training). It might
also have had to do with the arrival of siblings: his sister Elisabeth
was born in 1 846 (when he was one and a half) and his brother Jo­
seph early in 1 848 (when he was three and a half). These changes in
the shape of the family would naturally have been disturbing to a
child whose mother had been so exclusively devoted to him. His
, stubbornness might also have resulted from the deliJ?erate teasing
to which he was subjected. For whatever reason, stubb"ornness is a
prominent characteristic of the mature Nietzsche, evident even be­
fore th� first great caesura of his childhood.
Friedrich was not quite five years old when his father died. This
was/assuredly the most portentous psychological experience of his
, early life and the first event of his childhood about which there is
extensive evidence. When he was fourteen, he described his
'father's death.26 According to his account, the life of the family had
been as a bright summer day until suddenly clouds mounted in the
sky and a storm descended upon the family in the form of his
father's sickness. The tempest began in September of 1 848 when
his father fell ill. Ludwig Nietzsche apparently fell on the steps of
the house and hit his head. He probably suffered a concussio n at
this time, although he may already have been ill from another
26 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

cause.27 During the early months of his illness, he seemed to re­

cover for brief periods and periodically preached and gave confir­
mation lessons. But he was soon unable to function at all and died
inJuly 1 849. Only rather late in its course was the illness diagnosed
by a specialist from Leipzig to be "softening of the brain"
(Gehirnerweichung). Then, according to the fourteen-year-old
Friedrich,

My father had to endure enormous pain, but the disease would not
diminish; rather, it grew from day to day. Finally his sight was even
extinguished and he had to endure the rest of his suffering in dark­
ness. His condition lasted until July 1 849; then approached his re­
lease. On the 26th he sank into a deep slumber and only occasionally
awoke. H is last words were "Franzchen-Franzchen-come­
mother-hear-hear-Oh, God!" Then he went to sleep soft and
blessed. . . . When I woke up in the morning I heard loud crying and
sobbing all around me. My beloved mother came in with tears in her
eyes and cried pitifully: "Oh, God, my good Ludwig is dead."
The coming days were spent in tears and preparations for the
burial. Oh God! I was a fatherless orphan, my mother a widow! . . . At
1 :00 P.M. the [funeral] celebration began with full ringing of the
church bells. Oh, never will I get the sad sound of the bells out of my
ears. . . . Through the church resounded the organ tones.28

The vague description of Ludwig Nietzsche's illness and the use

of the term gemiithskrank in this and other accounts have given rise
to the thought that Friedrich might have inherited a tendency to
mental illness from his father. Even epilepsy has been suggested,
the disease that the Italian physician Cesare Lombroso (1 835-
1 909) associated with genius.29 Such thoughts are curiously related
to the genealogical explanations of his intelligence. The two ideas
have even lent credence to each other, for it is commonly believed
that genius is next to madness. Nonetheless, it seems unlikely that
Nietzsche was hereditarily predisposed to madness. His father
most probably died of more mundane causes-if not from the con­
cussion, then from a stroke or tumor.30 Also, it is commonly be­
lieved that Nietzsche's own ultimate madness was the result of
tertiary syphilis. Although the cultural tendency to see madness in
genius (and genius in madness) is present in Nietzsche's biography,
it will be more rewarding to seek the psychological connection be­
tween Ludwig's death and his son's later life and behavior.31
Indeed all of Nietzsche's autobiographic writings explicitly
 The Birth of a Genius? 27

and perman ent im-

state that his father's early death made a deep
him. But the impre ssion was not a simple one. A
Pressio n upon and the
arallel might be drawn between Friedrich's experience
�eath of Friedrich's grandfa ther when Ludwig Nietzsche was still a
father, Ludwig, was
boy, but there is a great difference as well: the
nce, having inte� nalize� the
already on the thresho ld of adolesce
al authon ty of hIS fa­
social values of his class through the person
old. His
ther; Friedrich, on the other hand, was not quite five years
of the
l oss was greater, for he was deprived of his father at the onset
him, the period of childhoo d
time when he might have emulated
the fifth year of life
ofte n termed latency by psychologists, between
and puberty. On the other hand, he was still in that phase of his
development where he was competing more or less consciou sly
with his father for the affection s of his mother. In other words, he
was still in a position to "win" the oedipal conflict. The timing of
his father' s death was psychologically crucial for Friedri ch.
Shortly after Ludwig Nietzsche's death, however, the shape of
the Nietzsche family changed again, and in such a way as to permit
later generati ons a deeper glimpse into Friedrich's feelings about
his father just after the latter's death. Within several months of his
father' s funeral, Friedrich seems to have dreamed a dream that
echoed his memories of that event:

Around that time I dreamed one night that I heard organ tones as at a
funeral. As I saw what the cause seemed to be, a grave opened up sud­
denly and my father climbed out of it in his burial clothes. He hurried
into the church and comes shortly out again with>a-ctJ. ild under h is
arm. The grave opens, he climbs in and the cover sinks back onto the
opening. At th� same time the organ tones fell silent and I awoke.32

On waking Friedrich must have told his terrifyin g dream to his

mother. Ordinarily such a dream would have been represse d and
forgotten as thoroughly as all other fantasies about the death of the
father. But this dream was immediately "fulfilled ." For the very day
after the dream, his little brother Joseph suddenly became ill with
cramps and died in a matter of hours. According to Friedrich's ac­
count, "my dream was completely fulfilled. The little corpse was
even laid in the arms of his father." Thus the dream became a fam­
ily curiosity instead of a frighteni ng childhoo d fantasy, and was re-
membered.
The meaning of this dream is not so obvious as it may seem,
 28 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

however. It is tempting to interpret it as an expressi on of the child's

desire to see his little brother removed from the family scene too,
as the only remaini ng male competitor. But the record of the
dream is unspeci fic about the identity of the child fetched from the
church into the grave by his father. The unexpected death of
Friedrich's little brother Joseph is what determi ned that identity
for later telling.
The dream itself, furthermore, almost certainly had some less
obvious meaning. It is evident that the funeral organ governs this
dream, setting its oppressive tone with sacred music. The music
may well represent the power of God and that unknow n world to
which his father had gone, but it seems to be a threaten ing rather
than a benefice nt power. Friedrich's father returns from the grave
grotesquely attired, and in his hurry virtually snatches the child
from the church. The church itself is less a sanctuary than a vortex,
or a portal of the other world, surrounded by tombs. The father,
returnin g from the church with the child, does not cradle the child
in his two arms but carries him under one arm like stolen goods.
This terrible and furtive act accompl ished, the grave closes, the
power of the music recedes, and the dream ends.33
This reading of the dream suggests that, whereas Friedrich may
have wished to have his father return, and may have wished to be
reunited with his father and held in his arms, he was afraid that
their reunion would be one in which his father would drag him off
to the grave with him. He was afraid to go there even with his fa­
ther. Thus the dream seems to be about Friedrich's desire to be re­
united with his father, coupled with a fear of death and fear of his
father's revenge. This fear of revenge may have been premise d
upon the childish suspicio n that his wishes had caused his father's
death.
Friedrich must have been overwhelmed by the grief that his
father's death caused among the women of his family. Their reac­
tion would have made him feel the insecurity and impoten ce that
the women themselves were feeling. They were aware that they
would have to leave the parsonage; their income and social stand­
ing had been at least partially taken from them. This would also
have intensifi ed whatever sense of guilt he may have felt about the
death of his father. Of course, guilt and a dream of father's revenge
is only conceivable at this age when Friedrich's fantasie s of omnip­
otence were already balanced by an awareness that his father was
(or had been) more powerfu l than he and capable of frustrating
 The Birth ofa Genius? 29

su ch fantasies. If this interpretation is correct, it indicates that

Friedrich began to pay very early for his "victorious" rivalry with
hi s father. And it demonstrates that in such rivalry, winning may be
lo sing. .
D espoiled of two of its members and no longer entitled to the
parso nage in Rocken, the Nietzs�he family had to move. They
chose the city ofN aumburg for theIr new resIdence because Grand­
mother Nietzsche had friends there. Friedrich's mother Franziska
decided to go with the Nietzsches, which practically entailed an­
other decision-not to remarry. Young, healthy, and attractive, she
certainly could have remarried; and a look at her own and her
husband's genealogies is enough to convince us that it would not
have seemed socially improper. Nor was there a compelling finan­
cial reason for her to stay with the Nietzsches, unless of course her
own family refused to receive her back.
Franziska may have thought that she could dedicate herself
more exclusively to her children if she remained in the Nietzsche
household. Or perhaps she could not bring herself to deprive the
Nietzsche ladies of a share of her husband's pension. What does
seem odd is that she did not perceive the advantages to the chil­
dren of having another father, even a stepfather. Had she found
the physical intimacy of married life distasteful? Or had she come
to love Ludwig so deeply that she could not imagine intimacy with
another man? Or was it simply that she had adapted to the
Nietzsches so thoroughly that she followed their will in this too? It
is impossible to know. Whatever her motive, she chose to move to
N aumburg and raise her two remaining chil4!� n with the
Nietzsches. Thus the first chapter of Friedrich Nietzsche's life came
to a close in April 1 850, when he was five and a half.
What can be concluded from this scant account of the first five
years of Friedrich's life? Only in retrospect is this the childhood of
a genius. It is noteworthy that none of the many eyes that have
scanned the documents relevant to Nietzsche's early life have
found any contemporary suggestions that he showed signs of ge­
nius. By heredity he may have been endoweQ with more than usual
intelligence, perhaps even literary intelligence. But this was not yet
manifest. By some combination of heredity, social background,
and family circumstance, he seems also to have had a serious dispo­
sition and a large capacity for self-discipline. His formidable ances­
tors and the traditions of the Lutheran pastorate had prepared a
family environment in which much would be expected of him. But
30 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

how he would employ his intelligence and sobriety, and how he

would react to those expectations, was still wholly undetermined.
Even at this early moment, however, a rudimentary psychologi­
cal matrix for Nietzsche's mature style of thought may already have
been prepared. He was the first child, and now once again the only
male child. As a consequence of this and of the fact that his mother
was excluded from much of the other business of the household, he
enjoyed an unusual degree of his mother's attention. He undoubt­
edly felt that he was a special child. He had also passed perilously
near that vortex into which his father and baby brother had been
sucked, and he had survived. So in addition to a sense of guilt and
a fear of reprisal, he may also have gleaned a tenuous sense of in­
vulnerability and even immortality from the experience of death in
his immediate family.
He had learned that fatherly authority is vincible, a conviction
coupled with the awareness that overturning authorities leads not
to bliss but to loneliness. We should not conclude that Friedrich's
experience of the death of his father-no matter how devastating it
must have been for him as a five-year-old-determined the charac­
ter of his later thought and writing. Later events might have dimin­
ished its significance. Ifhis mother had remarried, for example, his
attitudes toward authority might have turned out quite differently.
But she did not. And later episodes in his biography seem actually
to have enhanced the importance of his father's untimely death,
and even permitted him to recreate the feelings associated with it.
The most extravagant and consequential repetition of this child­
hood drama would arise in his extended encounter with Richard
Wagner. The inopportune death of Ludwig Nietzsche did not dic­
tate the course of his son's later life, but it remained a crucial for­
mative experience.
 TH REE

Without a Father
•

rom her later vantage in the 1 890s, Friedrich's sister. Elisabeth

F Forster-Nietzsche called the Naumburg of her chIldhoo d a
sleepy town. But in 1 850 it made a great impressi on upon the two
children arriving from Rocken. While Friedrich 's impressio ns are
colored somewhat by the anti-urbafl sentimen t that pervades Ger­
man writing of the time, his recollections show that he was amazed
at the size of the buildings, the labyrinth of streets, the numbers of
people, and most of all by the fact that the people-w_��e often � nac­
quainted.1 Naumburg was a very different social world for hIm, a
place where he 'Yas not the son of the most prominen t citizen, or
even important at all.
Naumburg had been chosen as the family's new home because
several of Grandmother Nietzsche's friends lived there, and she
would feel at home among them. N aumburg society was dominated
by the Oberlandesgericht, the provincia l high court of justice. The
most prominent families were those of the judges and counselors
at the court. This dominanc e of civil servants and their families was
largely responsib le for the social conservatism of the town, a con­
servatism that the N ietzsches shared, since this was also the circle of
Grandmother Nietzsche 's acquaintances. From the point of view of
the Nietzsches, N aumburg was a strictly religious, conservative, and
monarchist town, a support to both throne and altar.2
32 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Grandmother Nietzsche and her daughters were also returning

from the rural isolation of Rocken to the style of society in which
they (and Friedrich's father) had been raised. For Friedrich's
mother Franziska, however, the move to N aumburg with its formal­
ity and pretensions to national importance was another step away
from her youth and family. Franziska and the two children occu­
pied the rooms in the rear of the house, excluded except at meal­
times from the front rooms and social intercourse. Franziska's
position was even more awkward than it had been in Rocken. Hav­
ing chosen to follow the Nietzsches to Naumburg, she was a guest,
in the most uncomfortable sense, dependent upon Grandmother
Nietzsche and her daughters and obliged to adapt to their wishes.
She was excluded from household responsibility as she had been in
Rocken. She had only her children, whom she had to keep from
disturbing the others. Even a part of the garden was denied her.
Intimidated by the social scene in Naumburg, Franziska was depen­
dent upon her in-laws for cues about how to behave socially. Being
a woman of slight education and limited intellectual interests,
there was little left to her but the role of a servant.3
Franziska was only twenty-three years old when her husband
died, and very attractive. She could certainly have remarried; her
mother-in-law had remarried at thirty-one herself, which might
have made it seem less improper. But Franziska's position in the
h �usehold inhibited her from making the sort of friendships that
mIght have led to a second marriage. Instead, she devoted herself
wholly to her children, trying to make up for the loss of their fa­
ther. She could call God to witness that she had taken her motherly
duties as the highest purpose of her being. Her nephew concluded
that she suffered in this oppressive household situation, but that
she made a virtue of adversity, dedicating herself that much more
to her children. He recalled her jesting at this time about how she
would still be carrying Friedrich to bed when he was an adult if he
didn't learn to go by himself soon.4
.
�n spite of the attention Friedrich enjoyed from his mother, his
lIfe In N aumburg was governed by his grandmother. One of her
best friends was Geheimriithin Pinder, whose son and son- i n-law
b oth held important positions in the Oberlandesgericht, the provin­
.
cI�1 court �f appeals; and she had two grandsons Friedrich's age,
WIlhelm PInder and Gustav Krug. Wilhelm and Gustav were to be
Friedrich's only real friends in the N aumburg years, and even after
he went to Schulpforta. They were selected, however, by his grand-
 Without a Father 33

began in the parlors where the older

m other. The ir acquaintance
stomed to meet, and develop ed in the
family members were accu ers.
eld
schools selected by their con
. ed that chIl. dren of all so-
vInc
Grand mo ther Nie tzsc he was
together, at least until the y wer e ten
ci classes sho uld go to sch ool
al
hav e to be separated so that
yearS old · Then they wou ld naturally . preparat.Ion for theI. � more re-
. begIn
the upper-class chIldren cou ld
assu med that the N Ietz sche s,
sp o nsib le calli ngs. She naturally not on the basi s of wealth, but
. lass,
P Inders , and Krugs wer e upper-c .
eaucratic profeSS Ions ; th at IS, ·
be cau se of thei r edu cati on and bur
biirgertum. The idea was that the
their membership in the Bildungs
ld beco me fam iliar with the
hildren of the upper classes shou tly the Pinders and Kruf?s
� ower-class view of the world. Apparen first went to the pub lIc
h
were of the same conv ictio n, for Friedric
school with Wil helm and Gus tav. 5
not meet the expec-
The boys' experien ce in public scho ol did
ry, however. Not that the
tations of Grandmother Nietzsche's theo
al hab its of the lower-cla ss
instructio n was defi cient, but the soci
Gra ndm othe r Nietzsc�e
boy s wer e inim ical to the disc ipline that
aps also because of theIr
and her frien ds wanted to cultivate. Perh
s were unh app y, . and
different backgrou nd, all three of the boy moved to a pnv ate
e
spent only one year there before they wer
school .
back on the year
When the fourteen-year-old Friedrich look ed
plai ned his .ow � diffi­
he had spent in pub lic scho ol, however, he e�
recent arnval ln the
culties without reference to social class or hIS
begu n to show itse.lf
city. He thought that his character had already
ful as_ the other chIl ­
in the first grade: he was not as wild and play
because he was so
dren , and they teas ed him and made fun of him
time of writing, on
serious. This had continued right up until the rved that he had
the eve of his departure for Schulpforta. He obse
could give him self
always sought solitude and felt best when he
the "free tem ple of
over to his thoughts und istur bed, espe ciall y in
nature." ds, even with
He acknowledged his difficulty in mak ing frien
n they were no
Gustav and Wilh elm. Onl y in their seco nd year, whe
frien dshi p with
longer in the pub lic scho ol, he wrote, coul d his
thou �ht he � ad
them begin to blos som .6 Loo king back, Friedr� ch
whIl e ther e IS noth Ing
been unu sually shy in the first grade. And
ess, his serio us­
unu sual abou t that, Friedrich reports that his shyn year s of pri-
the
ness , and his incli nati on to solitude pers isted into
 34 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

vate school when his frien dshi p with Wilhelm and

Gustav had be­
com e clos e. He makes it clear that he cons idered
thes
ter of character and not of circumstance. He rega e traits a mat­
rded his reserve
not simply as an app ropriate way to act after his
father's death, but
as a permanent effect of that event. He believed
he had been trau­
matized. Perhaps indeed fam ily history and soci
al circ umstance
had a com plem entary imp act upon Friedrich's
character.
He �e�pon ded not only with shyn ess (of whic
h he was aware),
b� t by ngIdly adhering to rules. His sister reco
rds that one day in
hIS first year of school it was rain ing hard whe
n it was time for
Friedrich to come home. His mother was wait
ing for him on the
porch when all the other boys came racing past
, but Friedrich was
not amo ng th� m. When at last he came walk ing
calm ly but purp ose­
fully alon g, hIS mot her shouted for him to
. run, but he just kep t
walk Ing untI. l he reached the hou se soak ed to the skin .
was outraged at the cond ition of his clothes His mother
and pred icted he
woul � catch � terrible cold , but he was ready to
cite the app ropriate
rule : In leavIng school the boys were not to run
wa�k, calm and well-mannered. Ano ther story or jum p, bu t to
conc erns sweets,
WhICh were forbidden him: he adamantly refu
sed them even from
adults who wer e will ing to cons pire to keep his
indu lgen ce secret
from his family.7
Nietzs�he's rigid adherence to social conventi
ness, remaIned characteristic of him. Friends rem ons, like his shy­
arked at the adu lt
Nietzsche's alm ost ostentatious formality and
correctn ess. And
peo ple who met him in the sum mer resorts of
Switzerland wer e sur­
� rised at :he � ontrast between his radical phil osop hy and his phil is­
tIne beanng In sOciety. But his rigid obe dien ce
t�e pub lic school, and his fanatical adherence
was not the norm in
to rule s, alon g with
hIS shyness, really did give the other boys
occasion to tease and
m ?ck him . Tha t cou ld only hav e accentuated
his feel ing of alie n­
atIon.
Ano t�er characteristic that set Friedrich apar
t was his abil ity to
reCl. �e sC�Iptu�al passages and religious song
s with great path os.
Unl Ike hIS sen ousn ess and obe dien ce, his relig
a:pparently respected by the othe r boys. It ious inte nsity was
earn
nIckname "little pastor." This nickname sugg ed Friedrich the
ests that Friedrich
was not merely depressed abo ut the loss
of his father, but at­
tempted to imitate him even in his absence.
Imi tating an abse nt
father, however, can be mor e difficul t than
dealing with even the
mos t imp erfect one in the flesh.
 Without a Father- 35

After his father's death, Friedrich's elders gave him an idealized

picture of his father as pastor, a phantasm that he could only try to
i. m itate in the abstract. The energy which he devoted to memori�­
Ing and reciting scriptures and hymns must have .
been part of thIS
C
ffort. Of course the abstract ideal was an Ina dequate gul' d e lor
� onduct, so he grasped at the rules provided �y his teach�rs. This
. pulse to be a good boy, and a good son of hIS father, reInforced
: serious character. It marks the beginning of Friedrich's long
search for the appropriate father figure, a quest that still engaged
him when he encountered Richard Wagner twenty years later.
Friedrich's backwardness at public school could be explained
as easily by the social situation as b � his personality a�d his fath�r's
.
untimely death. And indeed, the pnvate school to whIch Fnednch,
Wilhelm, and Gustav were sent for the next three years was a much
more congenial environment. Dr. Weber, the proprietor of the
school, gave exceptionally good lessons in religion. And Friedrich
made his first enthusiastic contact with Greek and Latin under
Weber's tutelage. The school was preparatory to the Naumburg
Domgymnasium, the humanistic secondary school that the three
boys would enter in 1 854. Here the young scholars were of a mor�
uniform social background, and school was no longer a realm dI­
vorced from family life. Furthermore, Friedrich's school and fam­
ily life began to spill over into the homes of the Pinders and Krugs.
As the boys became better friends in Weber's institute, they fre­
quently did their homework together under the guidance of one or
the other boy's father.8
Association with his friends' fathers could onlyb� beneficial to
the fatherless Friedrich. Counsellor Pinder, he noted, was gener­
ally a model husb�nd and father, who carried out his of�icial ?uties
in serious fashion and was concerned about the beautIficatIon of
N aumburg-cliche virtues of the middle-class bureaucrat.
Friedrich recorded that Pinder was in the habit of reading Goethe
and other authors aloud to his family, and that he was privileged to
attend some of these family gatherings. Instead of being impatient
to play with his friend Wilhelm, as many boys would have been, he
sat still and nourished himself on the literature, and the image of a
father who cultivated it. Something similar happened at Gustav
Krug's house. Gustav's father was a lover of music, a personal ac­
quaintance of Felix Mendelssohn, and apparently N aumburg's ar­
biter of musical taste. The family had an excellent grand piano and
all the virtuosi who visited N aumburg were received in their home.
36 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

�ere agai� Fried�ic� was often in attendance.9 It marked the begin­

nIng of NIetzsche s lIfelong preoccupation with music.
Friedrich chose to remember and record the fathers of his
.
fne � ds, and � ot their mothers, in his youthful autobiography. His
.
faSCInatIon wIth the elder Pinder and Krug suggests a yearning for
father surrogates . His own father was remembered for his ability to
. .
fa ntaslze on the plano and write ornate sermons. The fathers of his
.
fnends were not pastors, of course, and in that respect his fascina­
tion ,:"ith their avocations also began to lead him away from the
vocatIon set before him by his own family.
A lifelong interest in literature and music was conceived in
these encounters. Friedrich began to write poems and stories as
well as to compose music while still in Weber's private school. His
early themes were religious and sentimental. But quite apart from
th � �ubstance, the process of creative self-expression in music and
WrItIng gradually became very important to this child who was oth­
�
erwise s � inhibited � out expressing himself in aggressive play.
.
C ompOSItIOn and wntIng were a space in which he could express
.
hImself and test his capacities. There he could exert himself as he
could not otherwise.
In the soirees of the Pinder and Krug families, Friedrich was
exposed to prominent literary and musical personalities such as
Mendelssohn. His first awareness of the creative or bohemian life
must have come from the visiting luminaries received in the homes
of his friends. This was also the first occasion for him to think that
he might grow up to be a musician or a writer. It was an awareness
that permitted him to think affirmatively about the difference be­
twee � hims�lf and other boys. He devoted himself to poetry and
the plano wIthout parental discipline or encouragement. By most
.
accounts he remaIned a rather ordinary pianist, and his writing
�ould on.ly be apprec.i� ted years later. But from this early age, play­
� ng the plano and wntlng poetry were Friedrich's means of defin­
Ing and expressing himself.
Friedrich chose the piano in part because his father was re­
puted to have played and improvised wonderfully on that instru­
ment. On the othe � hand, h � dedicated all of his preadolescent
.
poe � s and cOmpOSItIons to hIS mother, presenting them to her at
?hnstmas and on her birthdays. This is how he played out his fam­
Ily romance. As a result of imitating this fantasy of his father as a
great pianist, he gained access to the much larger world of the arts
and philosophy, where he would eventually become a true innova-
 Without a Father 37

elm and Gustav- in fact, thou sand s of boys

tor h im self. Whi le Wilh
i n Germ any's Bildu
ngsbiirgertum-had muc h the same expo sure to
rich apar t from his frien ds was a quality of
the arts, what set Fried
ic and literature were not mere ly the avoc a­
ambiti on. For him mus
nts, or the conv entio nal things a child mus t
ti ons of one of his pare
to his unkn own father and to pater nal
learn. They were links
strength an d mastery.
more impo rtant than
This aspir ation was perh aps even
ce in settin g him apart from his frien ds
Frie dri ch's native intel ligen
toward intel lectu al creativity. Ther e is
and starting him on the path
lled Gustav or Wilh elm in Web er's
no evid ence that Fried rich exce
intel ligen t and acco mpli shed
sch ool. Both youn g men came from
e careers, albei t in conventio nal
fam ilie s and went on to impr essiv
ed law and beca me an emin ent
profes sions . Gustav Krug later studi
followed his father as a pa­
prus sian civil servant like his father. He
ber of the Wagner Society of
tro n of the arts, bein g a foun ding mem
tion for him too. Only
Col ogne. But musi c rema ined an avoca
father he had lost can ex­
Frie drich's search withi n hims elf for the
s could teach him, to
plain why he quickly went beyond what other
osing his own musi c, and
begi n improvisi ng on the piano , comp
before he was four­
writing coun tless poem s and an autobiography
exerc ises or expe ri­
teen. In Fried rich's case these were not mere
elf in the absen ce of
m�nt s; they were part of his quest to forge hims
a mal e exemplar.
father to
One man who migh t have beco me a surrogate
father Oehl er.
Fried rich in a more conv entio nal way was his grand
d , ? e pamp ered
One migh t supp ose that the grand children woul
g for child ren to grow u p
and indu lged in Poble s, an idylli c settin
spend summ er va­
in. And i n fact, both children were delig hted to
se he foun d
catio ns there. But in Friedrich's case it was not becau
descr ibed the at­
the farm a great outdoor playgroun d. Instead he
tractions of the farm in the most domestic terms.

ruled in that house

Just the genu ine German Gemuthlichkeit which
and made us fall deepl y in love with the
drew us back again and again
hole-u p in grand fathe r's study and prowl
place . Most of all I liked to
greatest pleasu re. 10
around in the old books and paper s; that was my

Prowling in his grandfather's study may seem an unusual pleasure

for a boy visiting his grandfather's farm, but it is characteristic of
Friedrich. He enjoyed the gemiithlich family atmosphere of the
38 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Oehler farm, which must have been a welcome change from the
rigors of life with Grandmother Nietzsche.
For Friedrich's mother, the visits to the farm offered another
sort of opportunity. The farm was her parental home. When she
was there she freely confided her worries to her father. She was
concerned with the difficulty Friedrich had in making friends and
how different he was from other children. She admitted that he was
a .good and ob �dient child, beyond what one might expect of a boy
hIS age, but thIS very behavior had an aura of obstinacy about it.
Pastor Oehler seems to have reacted variously to Franziska's wor­
ries. For the most part, he played the jovial grandfather who en­
jo�ed his grandchildren too much to think about improving them.
ElIsabeth gives him credit for being the first to recognize her
brother's differentness as genius; and she reports that his reac­
tion to Franziska's worries was the simple counsel to let
Friedrich's unique personality follow its own course to matu­
rity.Il According to Elisabeth's account, Friedrich's relationship
to his grandfather during these summer vacations in Pobles con­
si �ted of long walks on which they conversed on adult topics.12
HIS grandfather tolerated and even encouraged Friedrich's seri­
ousness and precocity.
Yet Grandfather Oehler also suggested on one occasion that
Friedrich be placed in a home for orphaned boys, the renowned
Franck'sche Stiftung in Halle Y This may have been due to the fame
of the school or to Pastor Oehler's memories of his own youth as an
orphan. But he may also ' bave worried about the effects of
Friedrich growing up in the Nietzsche household, as stiff as it was,
and in the exclusive company of women. It is interesting that the
Franck'sche Stiftung should have been considered as a father­
surrogate for Friedrich. For while he did not go there, it repre­
sented a definite alternative to Schulpforta, where he did
eventually go. Unlike Schulpforta, which was oriented to the classi­
cal languages and produced university students and teachers, the
Franck'sche Stiftung was a Pietist institution that prided itself on
i �s pra� ticality, turning orphans into either rather enlightened mis­
SIOnarIeS for the extra-Europ�a:Q. world, or the best pharmacists in
Germany. Had he gone to Halle at this early age, he might have had
a far different career.
Friedrich found no single adult male whom he could emulate
wholeheartedly, but he acted in many respects like a miniature
adult. This, and his nickname "little pastor," were signs of his re-
 39
Without a Father

and tumble of childho od. His pun ctil iou s obe-

tr.eat from the roughdev .
otion to the mu sIcal and 1 Iter · ary.
.
Inte res
. t s of
dlen ce to rules ' hisfrie nds and his serious conversatI ons WIt ntly h h·IS
the fathers of his all sym, pto ms of this retreat. He app are
grandfather were self in some other way than in the usual give
needed to define othe him . ng l·k
e amo ng r chil dre n. Per hap s actI I e a 1·Itt1 e ad u1 t
and tak .
to h 1m.
seeme d les s dangerousiou sly not a littl e adu lt, however; he was
Friedrich was obv
m.erely preoccu pied w�thpre adults: a� d unw illin g to deal very. freely
WIth other children. HIS tualcoC Ity IS therefore not nec essarIly . eVI- 0f
capacity and certaIn1 y not
. a SIgn
dence of greater intellec y. Rat her it can be understood as a p­ sym
reater emotional maturit
� om of his more profound and urg ent search for his father, for con ­
-a sear ch tha t late r became the
trol, and for the meaning of his life cal achievement.
very sub stance of his phi loso phiity app ears to hav e . . mately
bee n IntI
Frie dr ich' s earl y inte llec tual
related to his inh ibition s. He didoth not sup pre ss his aggressive ener­
gies altogether, nor did he avoid er children entirely. He merely
expressed him self intellectually. Wh at he apparently wan ted to
avoid were the open battlefields of anonym ous childhood. Lacking
spontaneity, he was at a severegam disadvantage in . free play. He
showed little interest in physical play es or gymnastICS, and he was
not one to con coct schemes for such . But he did inve nt games
suited to his own capacities. , he develop ed an
While he was shy about making new frie nds Glls.tav, ce�ente d by
unusually fast frie nds hip with Wilhelm and paln s,whiCh are the
family ties as well as tho se com mon joyse and were bou nd together as
condition of true friendship . The thredric h treated Wilh.elm and
though they were brothers; indeed Frieabeth- very assertIvely, at­
Gustav much as he did his sister Elis ss �f the ili� s and the
tempting to control them . The closene WIth FrIe . fa�
drIch s keen ob­
common experiences in school, together the frie nds hip the qual­
servation of his friends' personalities, gave ship that allowed
ity of a controlled experiment. It was a relantion usio n.
him to assert him self with out fear of rejectioone toexcl or
ch vyil�elm
The first game Friedrich invented was ss, althwhi h hIS SIster
and Gustav were allowed only limited acce in genoug der and years)
Elisabeth (whom he regarded as his inferior f-life game in whi ch
was nearly always involved. It was a model-oety. Friedrich's game
children dev ise and con trol a miniature socig, a 14por celain squirrel
was the domain of King Eichhorn. The Kin
 40 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

two inches high and fitted out with a crown and his own red fur for
a robe, was accompanied by all sorts of attendants and an army of
tin soldiers. The court was the scene of cultural events taking place
among monuments of Greek architecture constructed by Friedrich:
concerts of music composed by him, plays written and directed by
him, and even an art exhibit painted by him shortly after the
visit to Naumburg of a traveling exhibition. There were military
parades, with the tin soldiers perched on pieces of wood
which Elisabeth was responsible for pushing past the King. (If
any soldiers tipped over, the parade was considered a failure
and she was sharply reprimanded.) Tin soldiers were of course
played with by countless children of the German Bildungsbiirgertum,
but Friedrich emphasized concerts and plays where others might
have had wars, balls, or receptions. It is symptomatic that only one
child could play King Eichhorn: Friedrich himself. Wilhelm and
Gustav could see the set-up, but not particiRate in the manipula­
tion of the figures; and although Elisabeth could move the fig­
ures at Friedrich's direction, her role was really that of one more
tin soldier-she helped him play, and he trained her for the
role.I5
Elisabeth was Friedrich's first playmate. Their relationship was
complicated by four years' difference in age. But the way in which
he treated her is a model for many of his relationships to contem­
poraries in adolescence and early manhood. The word she later
used to describe the role which he adopted toward her was that of
an Erzieher. No preci�e equivalent exists in English, but the verb
form, erziehen: to educate, train, raise, or bring up, indicates an
amalgam of the roles of parent and teacher. Although he avoided
Elisabeth at times because of the difference in age and gender,I 6
Friedrich seems to have become her Erzieher as a matter of course.
He was interested in her not only as a helper and subordinate at
play; he also had a deep-seated urge to mold and educate her.
Elisabeth's own impression of his efforts to shape her behavior is
remarkably positive. In her biography of him she wrote,

My brother so frequently made it clear that he considered himself my

Erzieher that I must make note of it. He gave me the books which I
might read, oversaw my schoolwork, and was very concerned about
the development (Bildung) of my mind (Geist) and character. And he
showed so much natural tact that I still smile at the thought of how
rightly he sensed what was appropriate for a little girl . I 7
 Without a Father 41

If her later character is any indication, however, his influence

was not salutary. Her adult relationship to him was a mixture of
inc estuous attachment, complete with hystericaljealousy of the fe�
women who entered his life, and ill-concealed resentment of hIS
i ntellectual superiority. . to
Apparently Friedrich was often sharp and condescendIng
Elisabeth. She herself gives an example which seems hardly tactful,
although she makes it seem harmless. Elisabeth had ch? se� a he­
roic passage of a poem to recite, but when she told Fnednch he
simply laughed and told her she would look ridiculous by �ontrast
to what she was reciting. That Elisabeth was cheerfully convlnced­
or represented herself to have been so-might speak for .her doci�­
ity, a characteristic which she did not possess .In later hfe. But It
certainly indicates that Friedrich had authonty over her. Even
when he had lost his sanity and she had come into possession of all
his papers, she portrayed herself as his obedient little sister. As far
as Friedrich's personality is concerned, the fact that he needed to
mani pulate her is more important than the success he had or the
positive impression she gave of it later. I.t is dif? cult �o avoid the
thought that, in adopting the role of Ehsabeth s Erzzeher, he was
playing at being his own father. . . . ,s
Elisabeth's emphasis upon the dehberate nature of Fnednch
attempts to guide her is emphatically corroborated by Friedrich's
relationship to Wilhelm and Gustav. Friedrich was apparently their
friend more for the sake of his idea of friendship than because of
any spontaneous feeling for either of the two boys; and he always
maintained an internal distance from them.I8 Frie.<frich's actions
were constantly self�censored, his motives concealed in a fashion
few children can maintain except momentarily, when they wish to
obtain something from another child or an adult by strategy. What
Friedrich obtained was the satisfaction that came from control (or
the illusion of control) over the activities of his playmates. Perhaps
he tried so hard to obtain this satisfaction in the small circle of his
friends because it was denied him in wider circles.
Friedrich's self-control and censorship of his social impulses
should not be understood, however, merely as inhibitions, keeping
him from more spontaneous play. Like his interest in music and
literature, particularly his creative efforts at writing and musical
composition, his attempts to organize his sister and his friends
were also a form of self-expression. He naturally tried to turn his
reserved personality to his own advantage: by censoring his actions
 42 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

more carefully than other children, he was able to capture a leader­

ship which boys more often assume by virtue of their spontaneity
or physical prowess. It seems that the profound pedagogic dimen­
sion of Friedrich's later life and writing issued, at least partially,
from this impulse to direct his childhood companions.
Wilhelm Pinder's description of the role which Friedrich
played in his early life provides a good picture of the pedagogic
success Friedrich achieved with his friends. Wilhelm wrote an auto­
biographical sketch at the same time Friedrich wrote his; it was
written at Friedrich's instigation, it seems, and naturally reflects
Friedrich's thoughts. According to Wilhelm, Friedrich had experi­
enced much sorrow in his life, so that his character was essentially
melancholic. He loved solitude� and was therefore more reflective
than other boys, and his spirit (Geist) developed earlier. This was
particularly evident in the games that the boys played, games that
Friedrich either invented or provided with new rules and methods;
Friedrich was the leader in play.
Wilhelm described Friedrich as his model (Muster) in all things,
even ascribing his own interest in music and literature to the influ­
ence of Friedrich (interests that Friedrich himself had acquired in
the Pinder and Krug homes). Even when there was a disagreement
between the two, for example over something which they were writ­
ing together, Wilhelm could always be persuaded that Friedrich
was right. In exercising this influence Friedrich consciously consid­
ered every move he made; and when there was a disagreement, he
was able to explain why he was right in doing what he did.19
Wilhelm's autobiography is remarkably deferential-a measure of
the respect Friedrich could command. As with his sister, Friedrich
appears to have been Wilhelm's leader and instructor.
Friedrich's childhood authority was based upon self-control
and intellectual leadership. Obviously such authority is easier to
enforce in activities of an intellectual nature, such as writing and
criticizing poems and musical compositions. In these activities one
finds Friedrich prodding his friends even in letters he wrote while
in Pobles on vacation. He wanted to know if Gustav had completed
the arrangement of a piece of music he was working on and
whether Wilhelm had been working on an essay he was supposed
to write in Friedrich's absence.2o
After his interest wandered from King Eichhorn and he be­
came more intimate with Wilhelm and Gustav, the game that
Friedrich played most passionately was war. Like the King E ich-
 Without a Father 43

horn game, the basic content of the play with soldiers and . model
.

&
lO rtresses was taken from the interests of the adult Prusslan
. c1 Imax SOCIety
.
.I whi ch the boys were growing up. The game foun d ItS
�
· In
t . e Crimean War when Friedrich was twelve years old. Taking the
SIde of the more conservative Russian society, the . three built
&
lortresses , first of building blocks and then outd oors. WIth d·1ft, an d
even a water-filled model of Sebastopol harb or In w ey
. h·tIChhe Ethast.
co ul d simu late and analyze the battles taking p 1 ace In
They read a good deal, and not only news rep ?rts of th� war, but
books about warfare. They became great strategIsts, convInc� d that
they could have saved the Russian armies and won the war If they
had been in command. . about theIr .
Perhaps there is something fundamentally PrUSSIan
reading and reenacting these battles-thousan� s o� other ?erman
boys must have been playing out these battl � s WIth un s?ldlers. But
the way these three intellectualized the war IS so mu�h In harm? �y
:
ith Friedrich's personality that it is hard not to beheve that thIS IS
ne of those innovations in play that Wilhelm ascribed to
Friedrich. According to Friedrich, each of them wrote little books
which they called Kriegslisten. Everything they could find about tac­
tics and strategy was grist for their mills and they acquired a large
knowledge of things military. They collected military books, too,
until they decided to edit together a military dictionary or encyclo-
pedia.21 ,

• •

Here again one may assume that Fnednch was more successful
at asserting his leadership (controlling the play) than in the com­
petitive war games where Gustav was determiiied �not �l ",:ays to
lose. It is not at all hard to imagine him organizing the dICtIOnary
and apportioning definitions to be written by the others. It is diffi­
cult to imagine a better example of sublimating aggression .in p� ay
than this writing about warfare. It demonstrates how Fnednch
channeled his energies into the intellectual side of play. It is an in­
dication of the inclination of his personality: he found it expedient
to develop certain skills at the expense of others. �t .presa�es not
only an intellectual career (not necessarily as an ongInal thInker),
but his meager social life, few adult friendships, and tortured at-
tempts at intimacy.
Of course the military dictionary/encyclopedia was never com·
pleted, but another of Friedrich's authorial projects was. This was a
solo effort, his autobiography. He wrote it in 1 858, just before he
left N aumburg when he was fourteen years old. He entitled it
44 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

rather grandly, Aus meinem Leben or From My Life, after Goethe's au­
tobiography. This title is another indication of his intellectual in­
clination, as well as a clear sign that he was modelling himself after
Goethe and consciously aspiring to the creative role of the genius.
His seriousness, his withdrawal from aggressive play, and his intel­
lectual activities were his way of channeling his energies toward an
intellectually creative life. The fact that he linked himself to Goethe
reveals not only that he thought of himself as a potentially great
man, but that he thought of his creative potential as a traditional
and acceptable thing. He had not yet internalized the feeling of
alienation, as he would at Schulpforta. Nor had he learned to con­
ceal his creative tendencies.
Friedrich's youthful autobiography was provoked by the award
of a scholarship. After four years in N aumburg's Domgymnasium
he was granted a free place at nearby Schulpforta, perhaps the
most famous of all German boarding schools. The scholarship
seems to have been offered to him as much for his status as an "or­
phan" whose clergyman-father had died, as for his accomplish­
ments as a scholar. For while he had had no great difficulty either
in candidate Weber's private preparatory school or in the
Domgymnasium, he had not really excelled in his schoolwork ei­
ther. But whatever the reason for the scholarship, Friedrich and his
family could no longer refuse it as they had refused the invitation
of the Franck'sche Stiftung. Schulpforta was the most famous hu­
manistic Gymnasium in Germany.
Knowing that he would be separated from his family and
friends and would have to submit to a strict discipline, he wrote his
autobiography with some anxiety. He notes at the beginning that it
is difficult to remember childhood, and that much already eluded
him. He devotes many pages to recollections of his father, his
father's death, and the family's move to Naumburg. This earlier
separation seems to be the subtext, the event that he used subcon­
sciously to come to terms with the coming separation-his depar­
ture for Schulpforta. He wrote many letters to his relatives
soliciting their anecdotes of his father; his autobiography was also
to be a repository of their memories. Apparently filling out his
knowledge of his childhood reassured him. He made a record of all
his creative endeavors, including lists of his poems and composi­
tions according to the year he wrote them. He divided them into
groups for criticism, and while he deprecated the earlier ones, he
compared some of the later ones to Goethe's poems and Faust I.
 Without a Father 45

Perhaps the most interesting feature of the autobiography is

his tated desire "to write a little book and then to read it myself."22
s
The autob iography itself was just that-a little book in which he
could read about himself. If he was still distressed over the loss of
his father, his autobiography would assuage his anxiety and calm
him. It would remind him of his intimate friendship with Gustav
and Wilhelm. And his record of creative accomplishments would
serve as a benchmark against which to measure his future endeav­
ors. It is, in its youthful way, an exemplification of the largest proj­
ect of the genius: an attempt to create the world in which he would
live.
 F OU R

Learning to Learn
•

F
riedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche entered the gates of Schulpforta in
the autumn of 1 858, when he was fourteen years old. He would
spend six years there at the expense of the state, having been
awarded a "free place" or scholarship at the discretion of the city of
Naumburg. This was a financial boon to his mother, who was thus
relieved of paying tuition at Naumburg's Domgymnasium. For
Friedrich himself, however, it was another major dislocation. Al­
though the school was only three miles from Naumburg, he would
have to room and board there. He was moving from the househoJd
comprised of his grandmother, aunts, mother, and sister to the all­
male environment of a "school-state," as Pforta was called. There
he would live in the countryside among 1 80 boys and 1 2 male
teachers, in a self-contained and economically self-sufficient insti­
tution where the values of antiquity and scholarship reigned su­
preme. The transition would be difficult. In the long run the rigorous
instruction and intellectual elan ofSchulpforta would have a decisive
intellectual and even psychological effect upon him.
Schulpforta was the most venerable school in Germany. In the
year prior to Nietzsche's birth the school had celebrated its four­
hundredth anniversary. It had been founded during the Reforma­
tion in a disbanded monastery-Monasterium Sanctae Mariae de
Porta (hence the modern name)-that had already been an ad-
 Learning to Learn 47

mired institution in the sixteenth century. It was a Cistercian clois­

ter established on the bank of the Saale River near N aumburg in
1 137A.D. With a Romanesque church, Gothic cloister and Renais­
sance accretions, the monastery had been an important cultural
center for four centuries when, during the Reformation, the Prot­
estant Duke, Herzog Heinrich of Saxony, in 1 540 disbanded all of
the monasteries in his domains. His son, Herzog Moritz, founded
schools in three of these institutions, including Sancta Maria de
porta, in 1 543. He endowed the schools with the lands and incomes
of the former monasteries, making them financially self-sufficient.
These were the so-called Furstenschulen (ducal schools), spon­
sored by the secular rulers of Saxony to provide teachers, Protes­
tant clergymen, and civil administrators for their principality. The
curricula emphasized Greek and Latin as well as biblical and theo­
logical studies. They developed in the wake of a larger humanistic
movement in German education that led gradually to the gymnas­
ial system of the nineteenth century. Schulpforta was the most fa­
vored of the three Saxon schools in reforms and investments made
in the late eighteenth century, during the great enthusiasm for clas­
sical art and culture, and by the end of that century Pforta's excel­
lence was based upon unsurpassed training in the ancient
languages.
Then, when a substantial portion of Saxony was annexed to
Prussia in 1 81 5 after the Napoleonic Wars, Schulpforta came
under Prussianjurisdiction. The Prussian government viewed the
acquisition of Schulpforta as an opportunity to train an elite corps
of educators. And they were prepared to inve,st, money. So
Schulpforta was reformed on the model of the Prussian cadet
schools, except , that instead of training military officers,
Schulpforta was to produce scholars and teachers. The Prussians
added several teachers to the school's staff, enlarged the library to
about 1 5,000 volumes, provided for instruction in science and
mathematics, and purchased scientific apparatus, musical instru­
ments, and even an art collection for the school. Thus outfitted and
staffed, Schulpforta became the most outstanding of the already
elite humanistic Gymnasia. For while Pforta remained a shrine to
the emulation of classical Greek culture and even enhanced her al­
ready leading role in the teaching of Greek and Latin, under Prus­
sian administration mathematics and science were seriously taught
there too.
It was a great privilege to attend Schulpforta, and, when
48 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Friedrich was offered a free place, the family could not refuse. It
would be a strenuous experience: long hours of study, strict disci­
pline, obligatory gymnastics and other sports for which Friedrich
had neither love nor talent; and he would be thrown together with
so many boys, with no separation of school from private life. All
this would be difficult for him. But Grandfather Oehler, who had
once been partial to the idea of sending Friedrich to the orphanage
of the Franck'sche Stiftung in Halle, must have been pleased at the
thought that the discipline and all-male environment of Schul­
pforta might correct the unfortunate effects of Friedrich's having
been raised in a household of women.
This disciplined environment bore with it certain cultural val­
ues. Like every other Gymnasium, Schulpforta represented classical
ideals, particularly those of ancient Greece. There was also a vagu e
allegiance to the idea of German unity, and to already classical Ger,
man authors like Goethe and Schiller. But on balance the tone of
the school was apolitical, anti-urban, and generally abstracted from
the present. Modern history, for example, was conspicuously ab­
sent from the curriculum. The ambition of the humanistic Gymna­
sium was to mold noble character through the discipline of the
ancient languages and exposure to great authors. And as an eco­
nomically and socially self-sufficient "school-state," sheltered be­
hind cloister walls on the banks of the Saale several miles from
town, Schulpforta could hope to inculcate these values more thor­
oughly than other schools.
It was the school's expressed intention to mold the personali­
ties as well as the minds of the students-to act in loco parentis. The
school's reputation was one of astonishing success at preparing
boys for a profession of scholarship. But upon the four-hundredth
anniversary of the school in 1 843, the director asserted that this
success in scholarship was secondary to assuring that the boys be­
come "whole men," the goal of humanistic education throughout
Germany. According to the director, Schulpforta really could mold
whole men because it had total influence over its boys.

The unique thing about Schulpforta is that it is a self-contained school­

state in which the life of the individual is wholly absorbed. Their parents
entrust [the young scholars] to their alma mater not only for instruction
but for their moral development as well. The parents transfer all paren­
tal rights to the school, so that the scholars find in the totality of their
education even more than a second father-house . . . 1 .
 Learning to Learn 49

Schulpforta's faculty and staff aimed to impress "the stamp of a cere

tai n solid industriousness" upon the boys' character. They were jus­
tifiably proud ofPforta's success at infusing in each of its graduates
the values of the German Bildungsbiirgertum distilled to their es­
sence. Classical scholarship was but the means to that end. In this
way the school really sought to supersede the influence of the fam­
ily home, and to impress its own pedagogical personality upon the
boys as parents naturally do.2 And indeed most of the graduates
became teachers. Yet Pforta was not successful with every boy who
entered, and Franziska Nietzsche had more than one occasion to
fear for her son Friedrich.
Schulpforta's academic standards were so high that Friedrich
had to repeat a grade when he entered. The problem was not only
academic. He suffered from disorientation in the new environ­
ment, his shyness, and the attendant difficulty of making friends­
the same problems he had had when the family moved to
Naumburg. Separated from family and friends at Schulpforta, he
felt he had been incarcerated, as indeed he had. Now he was cling­
ing to all that he had left behind in town. At first he wrote to his
mother every day, stealing minutes from his exhausting schedule.
In his first letter, written on the very day he arrived and before he
had really got settled, Friedrich wrote, "Up to now I'm alright, but
then, what is alright about a strange place?"3 All of the letters
Friedrich wrote from Pforta, especially during his first year, have
an insistent tone. Urgent requests to have things sent to him and
frantic requests for visits and mail are the substance of the early
letters.
Friedrich must have received more visits from llis family than
most of the other boys, however, since the Nietzsches lived so close
that they could walk half-way to meet him in the village of Almrich
nearly every Sunday. And his mother must have been constantly
preparing and sending him packages, too, since nearly every letter
presents a new list of demands. She also did his laundry each week.
Since his wishes were thus fulfilled as generously as any of the boys
could expect, his insistent tone is the more remarkable. His letters
give a very strained impression, bordering on hysteria or tan­
trums.4
Friedrich's attempts to elicit communications from his friends
Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug are similarly insistent. But his
friends did not respond as frequently as his mother did. At first his
tactic was to get his mother to remind the boys that he was not hav-
50 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

ing much success making new friends at Pforta, and to solicit their
ideas on the subject. Or he asked his mother to tell Wilhelm that he
was about to receive a long letter and to brace himself for a fre­
quent correspondence. And then, having finally got a reply from
Wilhelm at the beginning of November, he wrote back rather anx­
iously: "From now on, we want to write each other back and forth
regularly and without interruptions. Tell Gustav this too." He
added a Latin motto for their future correspondence: semper nostra
manet amicitia, or "our friendship ever endures."5 But by the end of
the month he discovered that he had forgotten Gustav's birthday,
probably more to his own than to Gustav's dismay. As his own
birthday and Christmas approached, however, he made big dis­
plays of his anticipation, frequently stating and revising his list of
wishes in his letters to the two friends as well as to his family.
Friedrich wrote very little about Schulpforta in his first year
there. This in itself is remarkable in a boy who had so recently dem­
onstrated his inclination to memorialize his life in the autobiogra­
phy that he wrote before leaving for Pforta. And what he did write
about school was not about particular fellow-students, but about
his daily schedule, demonstrating a formidable degree of self­
absorption.
Friedrich's letters display his rather pathetic need for attention
from his mother and his friends. Could this needy adolescent boy
be the same person as the Nietzsche who philosophized so heroi­
cally all alone in the Alps for years on end? Or was his exile to
Pforta, like his separation from his father, another course of train­
ing in the psychological rigors of individual existence, a foretaste
of his later alienation from his contemporaries and his century?
Perhaps the value of these desperate letters is to show how dearly
he bought his solitude, and how precarious was his independence
of his contemporaries.
By Christmas of his first year at Pforta Friedrich seems to have
reconciled himself to losing contact with Gustav, but he resumed
his didactic-intellectual exchange with Wilhelm, sending him
poems and assigning him topics for themes. They were to criticize
each other's work without reserve.6 By summer he was writing less
frequently, although his uncle still made fun of him for writing so
many letters. He seemed finally to be settling into life at
Schulpforta. Before summer vacation, he wrote to Wilhelm that he
actually enjoyed being at Pforta at times; at least it was easier to
bear when the weather was good. 7
 Learning to Learn 51

After summer vacation, however, homesickness again began in

ear st. Already in August (the beginning of his second academic
ne
year) he wondered in a letter to his mother how he was going to
make it to Christmas. And in the same month he must have had a
session with his tutor, the theology teacher Robert Buddensieg,
whi ch led to his jotting down the following lines in his diary:
Against homesickness (according to Professor Buddensieg):
( 1 ) If we want to learn anything worthwhile, we cannot always stay
home.
(2 ) The beloved parents do not want that; therefore we bow to the
will of our parents.
(3) Our beloved are in God's hand, we are always accompanied by
their thoughts.
(4) If we work industriously, sad thoughts disappear.
(5) If all of that does not help, then pray to God.s

For Friedrich, these remedies were but small comfort and could
hardly replace the family and friends he left behind in N aumburg.
He missed his mother and comfortable home. And as his sister
noted, he needed someone to whom he could entrust his serious
thoughts, or perhaps someone over whom he could exercise his in­
tellectual authority. The boys at Pforta were for the most part hard­
working, intelligent, and seldom willing to be manipulated.
Friedrich did not remain permanently in crisis at Schulpforta,
however. Toward the end of his second year there, or perhaps at
the beginning of his third year, he made several friends, including
Paul Deussen and Cad von Gersdorff. And in the summer vacation
after his second year at Schulpforta, Friedrich finally succeeded in
formalizing his relationship with his two Naumburg friends in a
literary and musical fraternity that they called the Germania. Both
of these developments suggest that he ultimately came to terms
with this situation.
OnJuly 25, 1 860, Friedrich, Wilhelm, and Gustav took a hike to
the top of a nearby mountain and swore allegiance to each other
and to the goals of their fraternity. Friedrich recorded these goals a
few years later in his Basel lectures on "The Future of our Educa­
tional Institutions": the Germania was to be an organization which
would obligate each of the friends to produce some creative piece
each month-either poetry, scholarship, or music. These they
would circulate, and then criticize each other's products with "un-
52 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

bounded openness."10 This is one of the contexts in which com­

mentators on Nietzsche's adolescence frequently use the words
altklug (old for his years) and schulmeisterisch (schoolmasterly) to de­
scribe his conduct toward his fellows.
The idea for the Germania was formed when Friedrich and
Wilhelm were on a vacation trip in the summer of 1 860, visiting
Friedrich's uncle and hiking in the Harz mountains. At first the two
envisioned a literary society, but back in Naumburg they invited
Gustav to join them and added music to their agenda. It was Gustav
who got the Germania to subscribe to the Zeitschriftfur Musik, a pe­
riodical that was already espousing the works of Richard Wagner in
1 860. It was also Gustav who acquired the piano score of Tristan und
Isolde, thus procuring Friedrich's first and rather difficult enCOun­
ter with Wagner's music.
From the outset the Germania was dedicated to the art and cre­
ativity of its members, rather than to Wissenschaft, ahd open to con­
temporary art at that. For two years the boys actually did exchange
their creative efforts and discuss them regularly. Friedrich's output
was voluminous. Thus it seems that for him the Germania was
much more than an opportunity to exercise intellectual leader­
ship. At first, at least, it was a refuge from the classical and philolog­
ical preoccupations ofSchulpforta, an opportunity for Friedrich to
indulge his creative impulses. But strangely enough, it was also
Friedrich who led his friends back onto the terrain of scholarship
and eventually drove them out of active participation in the frater­
nity.
In the course of the meetings and correspondence of the Ger­
mania, Friedrich conceived the plan of treating all the classical ma­
terials dealing with the Prometheus legend in a Pforta-scholarly
way. He meant for the three to jointly collect, criticize, and comment
upon all the sources of the Prometheus legend. This is the first ap­
pearance in Nietzsche's writings of his interest in Prometheus, the
lonely benefactor of mankind. There is much evidence in his mature
writings that he identified with Prometheus. But having been at­
tracted to Prometheus at Pforta, he rather ironically made a project
for the Germania out of it. Since Friedrich's classical education had
now carried him far beyond the others, he had another occasion to
commandeer his friends much in the fashion he had in planning the
military encyclopedia.ll And when the Germania died in its third year
for lack of participation from Gustav and Wilhelm, Friedrich's .over­
bearing attitude toward them was largely responsible.
 Learning to Learn 53

Friedri ch's approach to his contemporaries remained much

th e same in Pforta as it had been in Naumburg. His intellectual
1eadershi p may
have been more difficult to exercise at Pforta, .
where other authorities-the real schoolmasters-were so much In
according
evidence. Other boys found little to object to in him, andremarking
to hi s sister, treated him with respect, only generally
th at he seemed to them "a little too serious and introverted." 12 But
here again he did eventually develop two friendships in which,
once more, he was the senior partner by virtue of intellectual au-
th ority.
Friedrich's correspondence with Paul Deussen and Carl von
Gersdorff would not suggest-neither then nor later-that his
friendships with them at Pforta had any of the vaunted boys' school
affection about it. Like Friedrich, Paul Deussen was a pastor's son
and a diligent and perhaps over-serious young man. In 1 861 the
twO were confirmed together in the Lutheran church at Pforta. But
they also shared growing doubts about Christianity and a gradually
dawning awareness that they would not be pastors like their fa­
thers. Deussen must have been a gifted student of philology too, for
he later became a prominent professor of Sanskrit-indeed, he was
one of the founders of Indic studies in Germany. Yet, though they
had a· great deal in common, they never became very intimate
friends; rather, Deussen remained Friedrich's admirer and under­
study. This is most apparent in the way that Friedrich later intro­
duced Deussen to Schopenhauer, but the relationship had this
character from the start.
Carl von Gersdorff, on the other hand, was the. ��on of an East
Prussian noble, a member of the gentry. His description of how he
was drawn to Friedrich and became his friend may stand for the
way nearly anyone who wanted to remain Nietzsche's friend would
have to approach him. The two were in the same German class
under the literary historian Koberstein. According to Gersdorff,

As an Untersekunder [in his fourth-to-Iast year at the Gymnasium]

Nietzsche had written an independent literary historical essay about
the Ermanarich saga and handed it in to Koberstein. He [Koberstein]
was immensely pleased with it and full of praise for the learning, in­
sight, logic, and stylistic maturity of his pupil. S ince Koberstein, who
was usually rather silent at the dinner table, had expressed himself so
enthusiastically to me, I found occasion to make Nietzsche's acquaint­
ance. At the beginning of the year I had already noticed that
54 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Nietzsche was intellectually far beyond his fellow students, and got
the impression that he would do something great. He was attractive
too for his natural sense of decorum . . . . But since I could not spend
as much time with N ietzsche as I would have liked, about a year-and-a­
half elapsed before we actually became friends . . . . Music was not the
least of what finally brought us together. Every evening between seven
and eight we got together in the music room. I doubt that even Bee­
thoven could improvize more affectingly on the piano, for example,
when there was a storm in the sky.I 3

Gersdorffs attitude was one of simple admiration. He was fasci­

nated with Friedrich's talents and he educated himself in part by
emulating his friend. He never criticized him.
The remarks of one of Friedrich's teachers are also interesting.
Otto Benndorf taught two years at Pforta and constructed a mu,
seum of plaster casts of classical statues which the students were
invited to visit on Sunday after church. Friedrich apparently went
regularly. According to Benndorf, Friedrich stood out from the
others for his knowledge and understanding of these figures.
Benndorf wrote too that Friedrich was "a quiet, reflective, intro­
verted man of not too strong a constitution."14
Friedrich's health, which Benndorf mentioned as weak, was an­
other problem that seemed to threaten his success at S chulpforta.
His record shows that he went to the infirmary with alarming regu­
larity, all the more alarming since one had to be convincingly sick
in order to get to the infirmary at Pforta; otherwise, one got no
other remedy than more school work. His most frequently men­
tioned complaints were vague: "rheumatism" and Katarrh, which
might have been colds. Friedrich's most prominent symptom, how­
ever, was severe headaches, a problem that would plague him all
his life. On at least two occasions in 1 861 and 1 862 he was sent
home for extended convalescence, as noted in the infirmary jour.
nal by both his tutor, Dr. Buddensieg, and the school physician, Dr.
Zimmerman. According to the doctor, Friedrich was a small but
powerfully built boy who stared conspicuously, with an apparently
wild or threatening gaze. He suffered from wandering headaches
and shortsightedness. The doctor also recorded that Friedrich's fa­
ther had died of "softening of the brain" and that "the son is of the
age at which his father was already ill," an odd but ominous refer­
ence to his father's supposed mental illness and untimely death."15
These medical reports are interesting, since head and eye pain
 Learning to Learn 55

are the problems from which the adult Nietzsche was also to suffer.
A few' years before he had been taken to Jena to the university
clinic to have his eyes examined, and it was found that his head­
aches stemmed from overstrain on his 6 one strong eye, but no reme­
dial measures were undertaken.I And while he was already
wearing eyeglasses at S chulpforta, they did not seem to help
against the headaches.
It is, however, particularly interesting that Friedrich should
h told doctor Zimmerman about his father's death and espe­
ave
cially that he was of an age at which his father was already sick
{which of course he was not}. He apparently associated his suffer­
ing with his father's, and feared that he was fated to die in the same
fashion. These associations remind us of Friedrich's dream of his fa­
ther returning from the grave to take revenge. They raise the question
of whether his headaches might not have been psychosomatic.
In fact, however, neither ill health, shyness, nor introversion
ever seriously threatened Friedrich's academic success at the
school. He was an excellent pupil and spent much of his time at
Pforta as "Primus, " the first boy in his class. He was best at the major
subjects of Greek, Latin, and German literature and composition.
He seems to have worked hard at these, but to have neglected
minor subjects like geography and history, saving his time and en­
ergy for his other interests; for he was not wholly absorbed by his
schoolwork P As far as extra-curric1J.lar activities are concerned,
Friedrich was accepted as a member of the choir in August 1 859, at
the beginning of his second year. In the same month he passed his
obligatory swimming test. He was a reasonably good_s�immer and
enjoyed the sport. He was fond of nature and enjoyed hiking dur­
ing the summer v�cation. What he liked about nature and hiking,
however, was the opportunity for solitude. He hated school gym­
nastics.
The omnipresence of masculine authority and academic disci­
pline at Schulpforta may, oddly enough, have contributed both to
Friedrich's success at school and to his private cultivation of the
arts. He felt the discipline immediately and appreciated it even in
the days when he was so terribly homesick. In a letter to Wilhelm at
the beginning of November 1 858, he wrote that life had been easier
in the Domgymnasium, but really too free. In that respect he was
IS
glad to be away from there. That he evaluated the school's disci­
pline so highly as to bring it into balance against his loneliness was
not an isolated insight.
 56 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

A few years later, when Nietzsche reflected on the course of e d­

ucation which had led him to the professors hip in Basel, he re­
marked upon how Schulpforta had served as a substitute for hi s
father. This of course was one of the explicit aims of the scho ol' s
administration, but Nietzsche was aware of how much he real ly
needed such a substitute, and yet what an incomplete father the
school had been to him.

The mai n points of my education (Erziehung) have been left to me. My

.
father died all too early, and I was deprived of the rigorous and supe.
rior leadership of a masculine intellect. When I went to Schul pforta as
an �dolescent, I became acquainted with a mere surrogate of fatherly
Erzzehung. . . . But that almost military compulsion which, since it aims
at affecting the mass, treats individualit y coldly and superficiall y­
turned me in on myself again. I saved my private incl inations an d
strivings from the uniform law, I lived a concealed cult of certain arts
I occupied myself with a hypersensit ive addition to universal knowl :
edge and the pleasure of breaking a legalistic time schedule . . . . 19

He escaped the school's order by privately engaging in literary and

musical compositi on and by indulging his unorthodo x literary
tastes. He felt himself driven on to greater satisfactio ns in a private
and well-focus ed rebellion against that discipline . Precociou s and
introverted as he was, he thrived academica lly on the discipline at
Pforta. Nonethel ess, he understood that he needed to develop be­
yond what his teachers could offer him.
Friedrich kept his "private" studies quite separate, as though he
were protecting them from the watchful eye of the school. At Pforta
he began reading Shakespea re, Byron, and Emerson, and they
must have made a deep impressio n, since they remained important
to him well into his career as an author. But he apparent ly felt no ·
need to discuss these writers with his schoolma tes. Most of his mu­
sical � ompositio ns were prepared for the Germania or as presents
for hIS mother, as on her birthday., One project concerne d the tale
of the legendary Ostrogothic hero Ermanarich and occupied him
from 1 860 to 1 864-his last four years at Pforta. He did research in
the sources of late antiquity , wrote poems, pieces of an opera, a
play, and finally a critical-hi storical treatise on Ermanari ch. Aside
from impressiv e persisten ce with a single subject, this enduring in­
terest displays how the young Nietzsche could alternately apply his
dual talents-the academic -philolog ical and the artistic-creative-
 Learning to Learn 57

d­ to the same problems. But perhaps the best view of Friedrich' s sep­
­ aratin g,s chool studies from his deeper interests may be had on the
s o ne o ccasion when he revealed to his German teacher his enthusi­
s asm for a then unrecognized and completely unappreciated Ger­
y man writer, Friedrich Holderlin.
e It is of course noteworthy that, as a seventeen-year-old (it was
octob er 1 861 ), Friedrich had discovered and understood
Holderlin and his "Hyperion" at all. But he chose to write a Ger­
y
man theme on Holderlin in the form of a letter to a friend, recom­
. '
mending this author to the recipient-a rhetorical strategy that
s indi cate d his confidence in his judgment, and brought the reader
y (h is teacher) to the level of an ill-informed contemporary. Further­
s more , he praised and defended precisely those characteristics of
­ H olderlin's writing that offended the German literary establish­
d ment; for example, psychological alienation, and disdain for the
crabbed philistinism of the educated German middle class. O f
. course Friedrich's enthusiasm was due in part t o his having found
'
in Holderlin a kindred spirit. By defending Holderlin he was de­
fending the sort of writer he himself would soon become. His enco­
: mium was not mere enthusiasm, but a careful and logical
evaluation. It was so well done, in fact, that the disapproving
teacher could not give him less than an A - , although he appended
·· a note that Friedrich should find himself a "healthier, clearer,
more German writer" for a model.20
Friedrich's reaction to this is as interesting as the incident it­
self. He recognized the teacher's limitations without apparent
; anger. The episode reinforced his decision to sepc:t�ate his private
studies from his school work, without alienating him from his
'

': teachers or the school. He continued to respect them, their knowl­

...•
edge, their philological skills, and their authority. But he recog­
· nized that in certain important respects. he was already beyond them.
Friedrich was able to continue to work patiently in philology and the
other required disciplines at Schulpforta, with one brief lapse, while
developing his other interests privately, almost secretly.
During 1 862-63, Friedrich went through a crise de conscience
which seems on the surface to have been a reaction against school
discipline. He became involved in making a mockery of teachers
and even tried to intimidate his friend Paul Deussen, threatening
to report him to the other boys for studying too hard. He turned his
back on boys who really shared his interests, and took up with reb­
els like Guido Meyer, whom Deussen described as "handsome, con-
58 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

genial, and witty, a great drawer of caricatures . . . , but at etern al

war with teachers and school discipline."21 For six weeks Friedri ch
and his new friend refused to speak to Deussen for being a Spieser,
a " nerd" in today's terminology, and in any case for being too dil i­
gent and obedient. During this time Friedrich indulged in conspic­
uous delinquency, which culminated in his getting caught drunk in
the railroad station. Several of his accomplices in these escapades,
including Guido Meyer, were expelled from school.
Friedrich was trying to prove that he was "one of the boys," as
if, by joining in their rowdiness, he could show the others that he
was not really a Spieser. But he was soon his old self again, worki ng
hard in preparation for the all important Abitur examinations. In a
long and humble letter to his mother after the incident of drunke n­
ness, he made all the appropriate bows in recognition of the trust
which he had betrayed, and concluded with these lines: "I scarcely
need to assure you further how I am going to pull myself together,
as all will now depend upon that" (the preparation for the Abitur­
ium).22 Paul Deussen, who had suffered rejection during Friedrich,s
crisis, had another simpler explanation for Friedrich's return to his
former self: he was a very private boy who got no real satisfaction
from the pranks of the others.23 This spell of delinquency has been
termed Friedrich's puberty crisis. An ineffectual rebellion against
authority, it seems also to have been a short-lived protest against
the serious person he himself was.
Logically enough, in his last years at Pforta Friedrich did begin
to question the values of his family and social class. The young
,
Nietzsche seems neither to have been interested in girls nor in-
volved in an affectionate relationship with any of his classmates,'
"as was common in boarding schools of the time." Friedrich's "pu;'
berty crisis" was worked out wholly on the spiritual level.24 The pOe;,
etry which he wrote in this period bears witness to this spiritual
crisis, for example this stanza from 1 862:

I know not what I love,

I have neither peace nor rest,
I know not what to believe,
what life am I living, why?25

By themselves such lines might not mean much. Adolescent poetri

is notorious for pendular shifts of emotion. But Friedrich was gen­
uinely confused. He was divided against himself in his separation'
 Learning to Learn 59

of his academic studies from his private artistic ones. He had no

idea what profession he would follow. And he had grown increas­
ingly critical of Christianity. He had not spent much energy being
obsessed about his lack of belief, as adolescents sometimes do, but
he must have known that it might alienate him from his family. In
fact, his critical attitude led to several disagreements with his
rn oth er.26 He might well have wondered about his identity.
Friedrich's fantasy life must have been rich at this time, so it is
u nfortu nate that most of his fictional writing was destroyed by him
or his sister. It is all the more disappointing since the autobio­
graphi cal material that Friedrich left in this period of his life is
' sp ar se and offers nothing like that record of fan tasy and sel f­
observation that he compiled shortly before going to Pforta. One
fragment was preserved by a schoolmate, however, and found its
way into Stefan Zweig's autograph collection. It is part of an initial
chapter of a projected novel called "Euphorion." The narrator is a
Faustian figure who in gaining knowledge has grown tired of him­
i
self. His only remaining desire is to find his Doppelganger (double)
in order to be able to dissect his own brain! He feels better suited to
the subterranean life of the worm ("a wandering question mark,"
he calls it), than to vegetate longer under the blue sky. As a preface
to his memoirs, which were apparently to make up the body of the
novel, he gives this account of his present situation:

Across from me lives a nun whom I visit from time to time to enj oy
, her modesty. I am intimately familiar with her, from head to toe,
, more intimately than with my own self. She u sed to b�, a nun, lean and
hungry-I was a doctor and saw to it that she quickl " grew fat. Her
y
brother lives with her in common law marriage; he was too fat for me
,'; and I made him' thin-as a corpse. He will die soon, which pleases me,
si �ce I will dissect him. Beforehand, however, I plan to write down my
memoirs . . . . But who will read them? My Doppelganger . . 27
. .

Euphorion is fascinated by his other self, not surprising in view of

Friedrich's concern with his identity at this time, as well as with sen­
suality, death and sex, incest and sacrilege-as many u nmention­
able subjects as one might mention in such a short passage.
Unfortunately, there is no way of telling if these were the themes of
i his other fictional works or if this is not a representative fantasy. It
is tempting to infer from their destruction, however, that the other
writings were also somehow obscene.
60 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

This fantasy does bear a certain resemblance to Friedrich's ear­

lier idea of writing a little book-a book which also turned out to
be an autobiography-and reading it himself. But the fantasy of a
Doppelganger is significantly different from that of reflecting di­
rectly upon oneself. Quite aside from the obviously provocative
content which is calculated to shock the reader, this is an exhibi­
tionist fantasy: to see and dissect his Doppelganger, and to have his
Doppelganger read his memoirs. This is a narcissistic fantasy, but it
does not suggest so much a fear of fragmentation as a simple desire
for the stimulating attention of kindred spirits. Or perhaps the de­
sire to know that his fantasies were not abnormal and that other
boys shared them. It may also reflect Friedrich's need for approval
from his fellow students at Pforta.
The more practical consideration was preparation for the
Abiturium, the final examination of the Gymnasium years that
would determine his eligibility for the university; and of course the
question of a profession, which also occupied him in the 1 863-64
school year. He did indeed pull himself together after the drunken
incident. In his last year he wrote what amounted to an honors the­
sis on the Megarian tyrant Theognis, an essay that later served as
the basis of one of his first publications. Moreover, he prepared
himself so well in the classics that, when he finally took the exam in
August of 1 864, he received an "extraordinary" commendation in
Greek.
Friedrich seems to have neglected �athematics in his final
year. Not that he was unmathematical. He had scored excellent
marks in mathematics before, but his borderline grade in that sub­
j ect on the Abiturium endangered his entrance into the university.
The mathematics professor was initially unwilling to pass
Friedrich, but apparently yielded when one of the philologists
asked whether he wanted to fail the most gifted student that
Schulpforta had had in his memory. The fact that Friedrich gradu­
ated that year thus reflects the much higher value accorded to suc�
cess in the classical languages at the humanistic Gymnasium.
Friedrich graduated from Schulpforta when he was almost
twenty, a year behind his N aumburg friends Wilhelm and Gustav,
who were already at the university. He had not made up the year
that he had lost when he entered the elite school. He was recog­
nized by his teachers as a most adept student of classical languages,
the greatest in recent memory; yet they had seen little or nothing of
his creative work. This did not distress Friedrich. He knew his own
 Learning to Learn 61

cap abi lities, and life seemed to b e carrying him along fast enough.
Un aware that he had narrowly escaped failure in the Abiturium, he
worri ed more about his own uncertainty concerning what he
sh ould study at the university and what career he should prepare
hi m self for.
The obvious choice was a scholarly theological career. And the
most radical alternative was the possibil ity of becoming a musician
or a c omposer. His mother would not have understood his
th ou gh ts of a musical or literary career at all. She had very little
appreci ation for his creative proclivities, and no notion of the fact
th at he was already in some respects beyond his teachers. Her only
de sires were for him to be well-mannered and obedient to his
teachers and to get good grades so that he would be assured of a
pl ace in the university to study theology. To her it seemed obvious
th at he should become a pastor like his father. To his teachers, on
the other hand, it must have seemed obvious that he would make
an excellent teacher or even professor of philology. But Friedrich
was not ready to commit himself to either of these alternatives.
Having desires that conflicted with his mother's or his teachers' ex­
pectations was less of a problem than the simple diversity of his
own interests.
Just thinking about a career seemed to make his decision more
difficult.28 In a letter to his mother he allowed that the decision
would not make itself. The most important consideration was to
choose an area in which he could hope to produce something
"whole." This was of course an allusion to the ide,!1 of humanistic
education-not to spe(2ialize. And such hopes mighi"be deceptive.
How easy it would be to allow himself to be influenced by momen­
tary interests, family tradition, or the desires of his loved ones. O n
the other hand, h e was i n the uncomfortable position o f having
quite a number of interests of his own. If he studied them all he
might become a learned man, but hardly end up with a profession;
some of them would have to go, "but which should be the unlucky
ones to be thrown overboard? Perhaps precisely my Lieblingskinder,"29
the creative talents with which he might do something great. He re­
sisted committing himself to a part of himself; he wanted to preserve
all of his interests and disdained the life of a learned or professional
man (a Gelehrter) as opposed to a cultured (Gebildeter) man.
Friedrich stuck nonetheless to theology until he had already
matriculated in the university of Bonn in the autumn of 1 864. His
claim, written several years later, that he had definitively chosen
62 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

philology in this last year at Pforta seems only to mean that he ha

d
he
decided against a creative career. But even that was a claim that
made largely to defend or reinforce his decisio n to be a philolo g
is t
at Basel rather than a philoso pher. Sticking to theology was o
nly
the most provisional solution , marking time during the last year
at
Schulpforta while continu ing to placate his mother. This preserv
ed
for a while longer his conform ity to family traditio n, to his fathe
r's
image, his mother 's wishes, and his own sense of duty. He was n
ot
yet ready to make radical departures that all could see.
d
e F I VE
t
y
t
d
s A Student of Genius
t

fter passing his Abitur examination at Pforta in August 1 864,

A Friedrich spent a few weeks with his classmate Paul Deussen.
First Paul came to stay with the Nietzsches in Naumburg, and then
the two boys traveled West to stay with Deussen's family on the
Rhine. The trip permitted each of them to see another part of Ger­
many before entering the university; it was customary. From
Deussen's home they proceeded to Bonn where both would attend
--
the university.
When the two high school graduates arrived i n B o n n together
in October 1 864, ,they entered once again upon a new life. Now it
was to be the famous academic freedom of the German university,
a drastic change from the fierce discipline of Schulpforta. In the
nineteenth century academic freedom did not mean the right to
speak and write as one chose; it meant the right of a professor to
teach whatever he chose (regardless of his specialty), and the right
of a student to register for whatever courses he wished, attend them
pr not, and to live where and how he chose.1 Students were sud­
denly presumed to be responsible adults. The release from supervi­
sion was thought to be necessary to the further development of
young men who had absorbed classical values sufficiently to earn
the Abitur from a humanistic Gymnasium. Student years were as­
sumed to be a romantic idyll of freedom from restraint when youth
64 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

would blossom into manhood. But freedom posed its own prob­
lems for Nietzsche, who had profited so much from the discipline
of Pforta.
Wilhelm Pinder and Gustav Krug had already matriculated at
the University in Heidelberg. They had written to him about their
experiences while Friedrich was still at Pforta. Both remarked on
the wonderful change from the "penal" existence of the
Domgymnasium. They told him not to let the pressure of prep ar­
ing for the Abitur discourage him. Living in Heidelberg, the two
cousins had been introduced to a varied circle of friends and
hoped that Friedrich would join them.2 He wrote back, however,
that he would not be coming to Heidelberg and that they should
not press him for reasons; from Bonn he could visit them.3 In going
to Bonn, he was following the example of many other graduates of
Schulpforta, attending a university where two of Germany's great­
est professors of philology were teaching: Otto Jahn (also an alum­
nus of Pforta) and Friedrich Ritschl. And in Bonn he would be with
his devoted friend Deussen, an important consideration since
Friedrich was anxious about living so far away from home. Perhaps
he was also reluctant to assume the role of novice vis-a-vis his
friends from Naumburg, who now had the advantage of a whole
year's experience at the university.
Gustav advised Friedrich not to join a fraternity. He said it
would waste his time and energy and limit his choice of friends.
Nonetheless, one of Friedrich's first acts as a new student was to
join the Burschenschaft "Franconia." This fraternity, like many oth­
ers, was composed of boys from a particular region of Germany.'
But Nietzsche's decision entailed obligatory beer drinking and or�
'
ganized rowdiness too, and brings to mind his brief spasm of delin-
quency at Schulpforta. On both occasions he sought out a banal
fOrD;! of conviviality that seems foreign to his serious character. It
'
betr�ys some momentary confusion about his goals. But it was not
\
illog i cal: belonging to a fraternity, then as now, meant having
ready-made friends and connections, and belonging. It did not pre­
clude his intellectual agenda. To a shy boy in a new place far from
home, such a social niche must have seemed attractive. Interest­
ingly enough, Nietzsche had the approval of his mother and his
guardian: they agreed that a fraternity would be good for Friedrich,
as a home away from home. And he might learn to be more socia­
ble.
By the time he graduated from Schulpforta, Friedrich had a
 A Student of Genius 65

conscious sense of having missed the experience of "society." He

had never been gregarious, but only now began to recognize his
social inadequacy. While he was still a student he described how he
had felt when he arrived in Bonn as a graduate of Schulpforta-as­
tonished at how well taught he was, but how poorly prepared for
the world. He had thought a great deal, he wrote, but lacked the
finesse to utter his thoughts appropriately. He had still not experi­
enced anything of the "civilizing influence of women." And al­
though he had thought he understood life from his studies,
everything about society in Bonn seemed foreign to him.4
Apparently he had been thinking about this even before he ar­
rived in Bonn and joined the fraternity. While visiting the Deussen
family, his letters to his mother and sister were full of the girls and
women he had met and what he imagined were his social obliga­
tions to them. He felt attracted to Paul's sister, Marie Deussen, who
he said reminded him of his own sister Elisabeth. He was awed by
Frau Deussen and embarrassed at not finding her the appropriate
birthday gift and having to attend her party empty-handed; he
thought it would be nice if his own mother would send Frau
Deussen a Christmas gift. To Elisabeth he wrote that he expected
her to send him letters about all the "dances and other affairs" to
which she was invited, things of which he knew nothing but had to
learn.
After his arrival in Bonn, Nietzsche filled his letters with the
names of professors to whose homes he had been invited to tea
(with obligatory theological conversation), and the names of frater­
nity brothers with whom he had done picturesqlie things, such as
taking a walk along the fire-lit Rhine at night during the wine har­
vest, and attendi:o.g concerts and theater assiduously, not only in
Bonn but in Cologne as well.5 The walk on the Rhine does sound
romantic, and he undoubtedly enjoyed the music and theater. But
'
his taste was neither progressive nor very discriminating, and these
; letters reporting his attempts at social life give an impression of
adolescent awkwardness and forced interest. He was not naturally
gregarious and struggled to fulfill a role he did not really like.
According to Paul Deussen, who j oined the Franconia
Burschenschaft along with Nietzsche, neither of them felt very com­
fortable in the Franconia, despite the fact that it was a relatively
tame fraternity, that it did not entail mandatory duelling, and
that many of its members were graduates of Schulpforta. Although
Nietzsche's duties in the Franconia were congenial to him-editing
66 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

the fraternity newsletter, writing songs, and serving as a general ex­

pert on things cultural6-he aspired to more than that. He wanted
to be gay, lively, and dashing, a flotter Student. Apparently to gain
the admiration of his fraternity brothers, Nietzsche sought out an
acquaintance in a rival fraternity for a "friendly duel." He got a
scar on his nose for his trouble, which Deussen thought looked
handsome.7 He also participated regularly in the more common­
place drinking.
Nietzsche did write poems and compose a considerable num­
ber of songs during his year in Bonn, so he did not entirely aban­
don his creative hobbies in his quest for social acceptance. But he
did not present his poems to anyone, or report on them in his let­
ters to friends.
Nietzsche's efforts to be a dashing member of the Franconi a
were not very successful. One of his fraternity brothers later re­
corded that Nietzsche had not given a very j ovial impression; he
seemed unable to loosen Up.8 And in fact, Nietzsche never did have
a sense of humor in social situations; his wit was reserved for his
writing, or was so ironical as to seem unpleasant. He knew that his
fellows were only partially convinced by his efforts to be one of
them. He wrote his mother that, while he was not disliked, he was
best known for being satirical and mocking. He was often unhappy,
too moody, and frequently bothersome to himself and to others.9
He wanted very much to be liked but recognized that he was nei­
ther successful nor happy doing what it took to be well liked by
other members.
Nietzsche was disappointed in himself, but he found reasons to
be disappointed in the Franconia too. Politically he was in the
"aristocratic" opposition to the fraternity's decision to change its
colors from white, red, and gold to the "democratic" black, red,
and gold, which represented national unification. (Black, red, and
gold have been the German national colors since 1 870, except
under the Nazis.) While he was for German unification, he was
against the phrase in the Eisenacher Burschenbund's constitution that
.

demanded unification "on a popular basis." He also objected to

the clause that no longer required strict sexual abstinence of frater­
nity members. It was apparently no secret to Nietzsche that frater­
nity brothers "who wanted to sin went secretly to Cologne," and
that disturbed him. His fastidiousness about it was obvious to his
brothers and they remembered it years later. 1 o
Paul Deussen related an occasion on which Nietzsche was taken
 A Student of Genius 67

a brothel in Cologne _ He was so taken

by h is frate rnity brothers to
himself from the hypnoti zing gaze of
ab ack that he could only free
piano, "the only living thing in the
the wo m en by going to the
play until he felt free to leave.
ro om ," as he apparently put it, to
Nietzsche was a man
co m menti ng upon this, Deussen wrote that
that did not imply that he
wh o had never touched a woman. But
young men. As Nietzsch e's closest compan ion
was affec tionate with
good position to know that
at Pforta an d in Bonn, Deussen was in a
hidden. In the same vein, an­
his frie nd's sexual drives were deeply
later noted that
oth er of Nietzsche's fellow students at Bonn
to him to be a complet e man and woman,
N ietzsche had seemed
oddly coupled together inside a single body. l l
Many scholars have nonethel ess taken precisely the incident re­
did visit prosti­
p orted by Deussen as an indicatio n that Nietzsche
tutes and contract syphilis from them, leading to his ultimate
1 2 Althoug h it seems un­
illn ess and mental collapse in 1 888-89.
likely, we will never know whether Nietzsche actually engaged in
sex with one of the prostitutes he met in Cologne , or whether the
experience quickened his desire so that he went voluntar ily to a
brothel later. But Deussen' s account suggests that Nietzsch e's al­
ready prudish feelings were reinforced by this experien ce. His at­
tem pt to have the principle of chastity reinstated in the Francon ia
natu rally failed, and this, along with his political defeat over the
colors, contributed to his disillusio nment. His rejection of frater­
nity life after one year would be phrased in very conservative
terms.l:�
Throughout the first semester Nietzsche 's moth�r had written
him letters of encouragement, urging him to study, an.d remindin g
him of his father. He, however, had been spending so much money
on fraternity acti�ities that he had too little to pay for his courses.
His fraternity, distasteful as it was, did serve to distract him from
the pretense of preparing for a profession he knew he could not
practice. By the end of the first semester, when he went to N aum­
burg for Easter vacation, he had decided that he could not con·
tinue in theology. He had resolved his doubt� and decided that he
was no longer a Christian. He even refused to attend Easter services
with his mother and sister, which hurt Franziska Nietzsche very
deeply. It robbed her of the ideal she had been trying to realize in
all the years of dedication to this child, son of her husband. And
from this time forward, she often seemed unable to appreciate her
son's remarkable achieveme nts, not understand ing why they were
68 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

worth striving for. For Friedrich, this decision to abandon theology

after one semester was an important step toward self-definition. He
changed his major to philology, began to orient himself to a more
serious interest in his studies, and prepared to abandon the frater­
nity and transfer to another university.
Classical philology was the almost inescapably logical alterna­
tive for Nietzsche. It was a secular subject and a secure route to a
respectable position as teacher in the Gymnasium or perhaps even
the university. Although it was a disappointment to his mother,
changing his major to philology was hardly a radical thing to do: he
was not electing to become a bohemian poet or composer. Further­
more, the basis of classical philology was knowing the classical lan­
guages. Schulpforta had given Nietzsche the best training in Latin
and Greek that was available anywhere, and he had been Pforta's
best pupil in those subjects. He had worked hard at the ancient lan­
guag� s, and he was extremely apt. When he transferred to Leipzig
for hIS second year at the university, the year he had wasted in
Bonn had not put him at a disadvantage vis-a-vis other students.
During the last months of Nietzsche's stay in Bonn, something
interesting was transpiring in the world of classical philology. Two
of Germany' s most famous philology professors, Otto Jahn and
Friedrich Ritschl, became enlbroiled in a bitter personal feud that
polarized the philological community there. Nietzsche wrote his
mother that only the theologians could take any satisfaction from
this dispute, since they alone could rejoice at dissension in the
ranks of the "humanists." 14 Clearly changing his maj or to philology
me�nt more to Nietzsche than simply exchanging one quite conser­
vatIve career for another. It was the formal admission that he had
rejected one world-view and adopted another. He was now a hu­
manist rather than a believer.
Nietzsche had a high regard for both Ritschl and Jahn.
Friedrich Ritschl was the editor of one of Germany's most pre�ti­
gious philological journals, Das Rheinische Museum fur Philologie. He
�as re ?�wned for the strictness of his method and for the painstak­
Ing edItIons he had made of Roman authors. Ritschl, who believed
in single-minded dedication, had already advised Nietzsche to de­
vote himself to philology rather than divide his attention between
theology and philology. On the other hand, Nietzsche admired
Otto Jahn, who was not merely a philologist but already the author
of a great biography of Mozart that is still read today.Jahn's combi­
nation of interests matched Nietzsche' s rather well. N onethe-
 A Student of Genius 69

less, Nietzsche chose to study with Ritschl at Leipzig. Perhaps it was

au ste rity that led him to follow Ritschl rather thanJahn, for Ritschl
re pre sented exclusive dedication to philology.
By the time he was back in Naumburg for summer vacation, he
h ad made a definite decision to quit the Burschenschaft too. He
h oped there would come a time when his year in Bonn would seem
a necessary phase in his development, but for the moment he could
not help feeling he had wasted it entirely. Not only had he failed to
do anything significant academically, he had neglected his poetry
and musical composition, and even violated his (new) rule not to
waste himself on people foreign to his spirit after he had recog­
nized them as such. When he arrived in Leipzig for the fall semes:
ter, he would write a curt letter of resignation to the Franconia in
Bonn, observing condescendingly that he hoped the fraternity
would soon outgrow the stage it was passing through. I S
But it remained difficult for him to communicate with his
mother about why he could no longer study theology, would never
become a clergyman, and did not even believe in God. It was so
difficult that they stopped mentioning it. It was Elisabeth who
wrote Friedrich after his vacation, reproaching him for having spo­
ken against Christianity at home. He answered her, contrasting his
humanistic position to the religious one:

Is it the most important thing to arrive at that particular view of God,

the world, and reconciliat ion that makes us feel most comfortable? I s
n o t the true inquirer totally indifferent t o what the result o f h i s i n ­
quir ies may be? For when w e inquire, are w e seekiirg,f<;>r rest, peace,
happiness? No, onlyfor truth, even though it be in the highest degree
ugly and repell�nt. . . . Here the ways divide: if you wish to strive for
peace of soul and happiness, then believe; if you wish to be a disciple
of truth, then inquire.16

This defense of impartial inquiry against the claims of religious be­

lief is hardly original. It had, however, implications far beyond
Nietzsche's rejection of theology and a career in the ministry.
From the time Nietzsche put theology and the fantasies that he
had associated with fraternity life behind him, his inquiry would be
into himself. Instead of trying to become aflotter Student, which he
now felt he could never be, he set about finding out who he really
was. Thereafter he was never to turn from the pursuit of his true
self, no matter how unpleasant the search might become. It is from
70 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

this point in his life that the intellectual quest that he was later to
use as the subtitle of his autobiographical Ecce Homo dates: "How
one becomes what one is." He accepted the fact that he could not
fulfill the expectations of others, but would have to come to terms
with himself and what fate had decreed for him. From this time on
he was tacitly living by the motto, amorjati, loving his fate.17
..

Nietzsche arrived in Leipzig in October 1 865 anxious to begin

studying philology in earnest. To his own surprise he registered on
the same day that Goethe had entered the university there one hun­
dred years earlier. His letter of resignation from the fraternity in
Bonn was the first he posted from his new lodgings. And when the
university opened for classes, he was well received: as Professor
Ritschl entered the hall to give his inaugural lecture, he recognize d
Nietzsche and several other students from Bonn and called them
together for a chat before he began his address. This was the first of
many recognitions during his years in Leipzig-probably the hap­
piest time of his life. While he experienced some tension in these
years, it is fair to say that in no other period was his social environ­
ment so hospitable, nor was he so comfortably integrated. I II
After being welcomed by Ritschl, Nietzsche's first and most de­
cisive encounter in Leipzig was with Arthur Schopenhauer ( 1 788-
1 860), the idealist philosopher, rival of Hegel. N ietzsche had taken
a room in the house of a book dealer, and there in his landlord's
bookstore he ran across a used copy of The World as Will and Repre­
sentation, Schopenhauer's great work.19 He was fascinated with the
first few pages that he read. H'e bought the book immediately, took
it straight to his room, and began to study it as if it were sacred
scripture. He later wrote of this experience: "I belong among the
readers of Schopenhauer who, after reading one page of him, know
that they will read every page, and listen to every word that he ever
said. 1 trusted him immediately."20
He wrote at the time that reading Schopenhauer was like look­
ing into a mirror where the world, life, and his own temperament
were horribly magnified. It was, he wrote, "like being stared at by
the great and impartial eye of art." He felt he had been stripped
psychologically naked. Schopenhauer's was a bleak philosophy,
but the feeling it provoked in Nietzsche was not depression. It was
a strangely calm feeling of disillusionment coupled with a renewed
desire to become his best self. Reading Schopenhauer provoked a
searching self-examination; Nietzsche suddenly felt a tremendous
 A Student of Genius 71

hunger for self-knowledge. H e reproached himself anew for his fri­

volity in Bonn, and he recorded many other self-accusations in a
diary that he kept exclusively for this purpose. He subjected him­
self to a personal inquisition complete with an ascetic sleep and
work schedule calculated to reform his spirit. He hoped that a heal­
i ng tran sformation would result from his dedication to the new
master. He acquired a kind of moral ambition to be an excellent
person, which fit well with his predisposition and Lutheran up­
bringing. Nonetheless, this was a personal crisis that he had not an­
ticipated. Although he had come to Leipzig already determined to
reform and work hard at his studies, his experience reading
schopenhauer had many of the marks of a religious conversion.
Soon after renouncing Christianity, he became a disciple of
Sch openhauer .2 1
Schopenhauer's pessimistic philosophy appealed to Nietzsche
as an antidote to his unfortunate year in Bonn. He was impressed
by what he called the philosopher's "philosophical seriousness." i
Later, in Schopenhauer as Educator ( 1 874), Nietzsche recorded that he
had been attracted to Schopenhauer's "honesty, his cheerfulness[!], ir
t
-- \
and his steadfastness,"22 all attributes, of character andnot of \
thought. Nietzsche scarcely reported on Schopenhauer's ideas in
his letters, and in Schopenhauer as Educator not at all. His matur� phi­
losophy would be diametrically opposed to Schopenhauer's nega­
tive conclusions about the will. Whatever N ietzsche learned by
wrestling with Schopenhauer's philosophy, he was enthralled by
Schopenhauer's personality, or the personality that he attributed
to him.
Discipleship soon' became apostleship, however, as N ietzsche's
interest in Schopenhauer became the focus of his friendships. He
quickly converted Carl von Gersdorff, his friend from S chulpforta
who had now transferred to Leipzig from the University of Berlin,
and Hermann Mushacke, another dissatisfied member of the Fran­
conia who had moved from Bonn to Leipzig with Nietzsche. These
two were the only students he knew when he arrived in Leipzig, and
they shared his distaste for fraternity life. (Paul Deussen remained
in Bonn, still studying theology. Nietzsche did not initiate him into
Schopenhauer's philosophy until several years later; but when
Deussen did read Schopenhauer he became one of the phi­
losopher's most faithful and energetic followers, eventually found­
ing the German Schopenhauer Society.)23 Several other converts
were made in Leipzig, and the group might have become a
72 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Schopenhauer circle, comparable to the Germania, and Nietzsche

might have played his wonted role of intellectual leader there. He
soon became involved, however, in another, larger group of stu­
dents among whom he would have an even greater opportunity for
leadership.
In the same first few weeks in Leipzig, the time when he was
discovering Schopenhauer, Nietzsche was a party to the founding
of the Leipzig Philologischer Verein. Professor Ritschl proposed the
idea to four students who he had invited for an evening at his
home. The professor laid out his suggestion that the students form
a club for the independent presentation and criticism of their own
philological studies. His idea was to foster individual initiative in
the study of the classics and to bring his students closer to the ac­
tual practice of professional philology. It was not long before the
chosen four called other promising students together in a small res­
taurant and founded their Verein, the Leipzig Philological Society.24
This was a powerful incentive to Nietzsche. Schulpforta had
prepared him well in philology, and his disillusion in the fraternity
had already determined him to turn all his energy to his studies.
But the Philological Society tapped another motive: he loved to
lead a small but structured group of young men in intellectual pur­
suits. The Philological Society resembled the Germania, and
Nietzsche's role in it was comparable.25 At first there was no formal
organization, so the only way a student could distinguish himself
was to present a paper. Nietzsche took up the challenge immedi­
ately and was the second to contribute: he presented his investiga­
tion of "The Latest Edition of the Theognidea," a revised and
expanded version of his essay on Theognis written at Schulpforta.
Nietzsche's first presentation was a great success and had a
powerfu l effect upon him:

After overcoming my initial shyness I was able to express myself force­

fully and with emphasis and had such success that my friends ex­
pressed greatest respect for what. they had heard. Astonishingly
elated, I came home deep in the night and sat right down at my desk
to write bitter words in the book of observations [the Schopenhauer­
ian notebook] and suppress the enj oyed pride from the tablet of my
consciousness.26

He was resolved to maintain the sober self-critical stance , that

would permit him to continue to learn from his discipleship to
 A Student of Genius 73

S ch ope nhauer, but at the same time he was highly stimulated by his
su ccess. From this moment in January 1 866, philology was no longer
merely a discipline or an alternative to theology; now he could really
invest himself in philology, and excel in it. He had become a sort of
flotter Stw1ent in spite of himself, enjoying in the Philological Society
not only the comradeship and respect of his fellows that he had sought
in the Burschenschajt, but an opportunity to exercise intellectual leader­
ship. The Philological Society was a safe harbor from his dissatisfaction
with himself. For a time at least, his enthusiasm for Schopenhauer rein­
forced his enthusiasm for philology.
The commanding impression that Nietzsche made with his
Theognis paper at the Philological Society gave him the courage to
submit a finely copied version of it to Professor Ritschl. Several
days later, Ritschl told Nietzsche that he had never seen such a fin­
ished piece of work produced by a student in his third semester at
the university-so strict was the method and so sure the composi­
tion. He went on to suggest that Nietzsche work the essay up into a
small book; he promised his own help in acquiring the necessary
materials for collation. This was more encouragement than
Nietzsche could have imagined. "For some time I went about under
a spell," he wrote; "it was the time I was born as a philologist."27
In each of his first four semesters at Leipzig, Nietzsche contrib­
uted a lecture in the Philological Society with a success similar to
that he had attained with the Theognis paper. Several-including
the first one on Theognis-were published in Ritschl's j ournal, Das
Rheinische Museum fur Philologie. (The book that Ritschl proposed
Nietzsche write was never realized, inasmuch as Rit�<=hl discovered
that another scholarwas already at work on the project.) These lec­
tures, along wit:p. the authoritative criticism that he undoubtedly
delivered on the lectures of others, made him the leader of the So­
ciety in the second year-he was elected president in his third se­
mester at Leipzig_ His presidential address opening the spring
semester of 1 867 has a somewhat moralistic tone, gently reproach­
ing his fellows for being inadequately prepared to criticize the pa­
pers presented to them, and pressing them to exercise an ethical
influence upon their fellow students in philology who were not
members of the Society and not dedicated to hard work in scien­
tific philology.2H His schoolmasterly attitude was moderate, how­
ever, and apparently did not offend. He was a success not only as a
philological scholar but as president of the Philological Society as
well.
74 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

The social and academic success that Nietzsche enjoyed in the

Philological Society was balanced by the sobering influence of
Schopenhauer and the ethic of self-control. He showed no signs of
arrogance. He did, however, begin to enjoy the society of his pro­
fessor. He saw Ritschl in his office twice a week at noon; the profes­
sor spoke freely on everything from university politics to his own
idiosyncrasies as a scholar. 29 Nietzsche also became a frequent
guest in the Ritschl home, and became friendly with Frau Ritschl as
well, discussing music and theater with her as much as he did phi­
lology with her husband.
In spite of his intimacy with Ritschl and his dedication to phi­
lology, Nietzsche in his first two years at Leipzig did not fill a single
course-notebook, nor hear a single course of lectures through to
the end. He explained this anomalous situation with the observa­
tion that he had been more interested in how his professors taught
than in what they taught. He tried always to put himself in the place
of the professor, to understand what the professor was trying to
accomplish and how he did it. He hoped to learn quickly whatever
there was to be learned from any professor, and later, when he had
to give his own courses, he could gather materials together accord­
ing to his own system.30 Not even Ritschl was sufficiently interesting
to keep Nietzsche in attendance to the end of the semester.
Nietzsche already felt himself beyond the status of a student.
Having completed his student apprenticeship, he was now looking
about for a professorial model. This was not an arrogant or unreal­
istic attitude; very few students can publish what they write in their
third semester at the university. His observations on several profes­
sors suggest that he was studying their personalities as much as
their methods. His sketches of Wilhelm Dindorf and Konstantin
Tischendorf, Leipzig's legendary paleographer, are both rather
psychological. He noted that Dindorf was an "unethical pessimis,t"
(in pointed contrast to Schopenhauer), a cynical entrepreneur wh o
would exploit colleague and student alike in his effort to sell text­
books. Tischendorf was a far more attractive old man, a charming
and romantic figure, but naively and inexhaustibly vain. His wealth
of philological anecdotes made it difficult to decide whether to en­
title his courses "paleography" or "Tischendorfs memories and
anecdotes." According to Nietzsche, there was absolutely no
method to be learned from Tischendorf-only a contradictory per­
sonality to observe. Yet Tischendorfs was the course he attended
most regularly, which suggests that Nietzsche's interest in how his
 A Student of Genius 75

profes sors taught did not refer to philological method so much as

to p ers onal style.3) He was considering his professors as models or
men tors . Dindorf and Tischendorf failed the test; he would not
m odel himself upon them.
Nietzsche's attitude toward his professors and the discipline of
phil ology was, as he put it, a "philosophical" one. When he became
a professor himself, he wrote, he hoped not merely to teach philol­
o gy and convey the classical ideals to his students, but to awaken
sufficie nt self-awareness in them to permit each of them to recreate
the discipline for himself. With the help of Schopenhauer-and
not of his own professors-Nietzsche had developed a philosophy
of life: life may be inherently chaotic and meaningless, but one can
impose meaning upon it. (This view, a revision of Schopenhauer' s
theory of the meaninglessness of individual life, is a characteristic
ten et of Nietzsche's mature philosophy.) His practical task, as he
understood it then, was to choose some field commensurate with
his abilities and create order and meaning there. This would in­
volve not merely his philological training and talents, but his whole
personality.32 This view of life is what justified Nietzsche in think­
ing that he was beyond his professors in certain respects.
Even his judg'ment of Professor Ritschl was critical. He thought
that Ritschl was complacent in regard to the larger questions of life.
The professor not only held himself aloof from philosophy but ac­
tively discouraged his students from ,b ecoming interested in it. And
Ritschl was limited by the fact that he overestimated the discipline
of philology as it was actually practiced; he saw no need for a fun­
damental reform of specialized scholarship.33·' As critical as
Nietzsche was of Ritschl, however, his complaints about his profes­
sor reflect an impatience that sons often feel toward their older
and less vigorous fathers. Ritschl and Schopenhauer both assumed
aspects of father for Nietzsche in these years; only it was
Schopenhauer who would have the more enduring paternal influ­
ence upon him.
Perhaps Ritschl knew that his attempts to discourage Nietzsche
from becoming absorbed in philosophy were failing. To enti<;e
Nietzsche into more philological work, Ritschl deliberately pro­
posed a prize essay competition on the ancient historian of philos­
ophy, Diogenes Laertius. Ritschl knew that it was a topic Nietzsche
had already explored in a paper read before the Philological Soci­
ety .34 The result was another philological triumph for Nietzsche/15
but no deeper commitment to philology. Philosophy, as he under-
76 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

stood it, remained more important to him than philological schol­

arship. He had already complained to Gersdorff that he f� lt forced
to wear a mask of scholarship that separated hIm from
Schopenhauer and philosophy.36 This attitude did not change with
subsequent philological successes.
So Nietzsche's intellectual life was soon as divided in Leipzig as
it had been at Schul pforta. At Pforta he had divided his energy be­
tween schoolwork and his "secret" cultivation of music and poetry.
In Leipzig he pursued parallel studies in philology and philosophy.
Professor Ritschl frowned on his commitment to Schopenhauer
and thought that reading philosophy would only distract him from
his chosen profession. It did indeed stimulate his emerging ten­
dency to regard philology as a lifeless and rather mechanical pur­
suit. Curiously, it was precisely as Nietzsche emerged as a creative
philologist in practice that he began to define philology as a disci­
pline devoid of creativity.37
Nietzsche's growing disdain for philology went against the
grain of mid-nineteenth-century German culture, where t� e c� lti­
vation of Greek and Latin literature was still seen as the anImatIng
force of middle-class education. But the study of the classics had
changed. Under the impact of Winckelmann' s art historical stud­
ies in the eighteenth century, broad exposure to Greek culture was
understood to ennoble the individual and make him more fully
human. By the mid-nineteenth century, study of the ancient litera­
tures had already become highly specialized. The idea that schol­
arly-classical education was arid and divorced from life began to
take shape as a result of the professionalization of philology and its
perceived irrelevance to the concerns of modern life. Nietzsche
would help articulate this idea with such early writings as The Birth
of Tragedy ( 1 872), and "On the Uses and D isadvantages of History
for Life" ( 1 874). In these books he is recognizably the first in nearly
half a century to return to the older way of approaching the
Greeks. But as a student in Leipzig, Nietzsche felt that he had to
conceal his devotion to Schopenhauer and philosophy, much as he
had hidden his fondness for Holderlin at Pforta. This was the par­
tially repressed side of Nietzsche's intellectual life. It was here that
his creative energy was pent up against the time when he would
burst the conventions of philology and philosophy alike to become
an original thinker in his own right.
It is characteristic of Nietzsche that this division of his interests
was echoed by a division of his personal loyalty to Schopenhauer
 A Student of Genius 77

an d Ritschl. Nietzsche was constantly comparing the two men and

hi s choice of a career seems to have depended as much upon the
ou tcome of this compariso n as it did upon his own suitability for
ph ilo sophy or philology. The comparis on was skewed by the fact
that he had Ritschl before him day after day, while Schopenh auer
was an abstractio n who inhabited only his books. But the very fact
th at Schopenhauer was an abstraction may have made Nietzsche 's
re markable idealizati on of the philosoph er possible. He was free to
fan tasize Schopenhauer into a hero of extraordinary proportio ns.
By contrast, Ritschl was immediat ely exposed to Nietzsche 's critical
ob servation and was conseque ntly never so thoroughly idealized
by him. Ritschl was right to think that Nietzsche 's intense devotion
to Schopenhauer might distract him from a promisin g career in
classical philology.
Nietzsche 's deeper attachment to Schopenh auer seems in turn
to indicate that he needed a more comprehe nsive (but also mallea.
ble) personal model than simply a Doktorvater. Nietzsche 's devotion
to Schopenh auer satisfied importan t psycholog ical as well as intel­
lectual needs. Indeed, his idealizati on of Schopenhauer seems to
have given him, for several years at least, a psycholog ical equilib-
.
rium that he had not possessed in Bonn, and permitted him to de­
velop his professio nal mastery of classical philology even as he
looked beyond it.38
While Ritschl offered a professio n, Schopenhauer held out the
discipline of philosophy, by which Nietzsche understo od not aca­
demic philosophy or its history, which he might learn as a profes­
sion, but the method of seeking wisdom- philo,s ?phy in the
classical sense. Philosop hy in this sense is a whole life's endeavor ,
not merely a pr�fessio n. The adult Nietzsche would practice his
philosop hic vocation as exclusive ly as anyone possibly could, to the
complete exclusion of intimacy or any diversion whatsoever.
Furthermore, while the professio n of philology that Ritschl
represented was more concrete , Nietzsche justifiab ly felt that he
had already mastered it. He did not scorn it; he was prepared to
prac tice it in his own "philoso phical" way, in the spirit of
Scho penhauer. But his own mastery made it difficult for him to
con tinue to idealize Ritschl, even as a model of this professio n. He
had already begun to think of Ritschl as a colleague rather than a
master. Philosop hy, on the other hand, was an enormou s territory
where he still felt naive and in need of guidance . And
S chop enhauer seerned to be a most trustworthy guide.
78 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Nietzsche was as happy, productive, and gregarious as ever in

his life at this time. The only thing missing from this picture was
romance; and there is not a single mention of an interest in women
in these years in Leipzig-neither of sex, nor women in general,
nor of a particular woman. Was this due to unconscious repression,
a traumatic reaction to the death of his father at that stage of his
psychosexual development when he was competing with his father
for the affection of his mother? Was it latent homosexuality? Or
was it simply an unusual degree of narcissistic preoccupation with
himself that prevented him from expressing erotic feelings? In the
end he was happy enough without romance. He did have a close
friend, however, and this may be the best evidence of his happines s
and fulfillment in these years.
It was in his second year in Leipzig, 1 866-67, that he discovered
a unique friendship with Erwin Rohde, a student who he had
known for a while but with whom he became friendly only grad­
ually. Rohde was also a member of the Philological Society. He was
Nietzsche's equal in philology and his superior in modern lan­
guages. But these academic commonalities were not the basis of
their friendship. Nietzsche later wrote that in his experience most
friendships are based upon superficial common interests and are
often a source of deep disappointment when the more fundamen­
tal differences finally wrench young people apart; by contrast, he
and Rohde disagreed on all the superficial things and yet found
harmony in the revelation of their deeper feelings.39
This was an accurate description of Nietzsche's experience to
date, since most of his friendships had depended upon his friends
being pliant and acquiescent in his plans. Nietzsche's friendship
with Paul Deussen is a good example. When, after the year they had
spent in Bonn, Deussen did not drop theology or take up philology
as Nietzsche had done, Nietzsche badgered him with insulting let­
ters. Both of them were disappointed. With Rohde, N ietzscli'e
seems not to have felt the need to play the schoolmaster. The two of
them could argue incessantly and yet spend every day together dur­
ing the spring of 1 867. When school was out they went hiking to­
gether in the Bavarian Forest.4o
Both Nietzsche and Rohde reported in separate letters to other
friends that they had been drawn together by Schopenhauer and
not by classical philology, although that was their common major.41
Possibly the sense of integration that Nietzsche gained from his
idealization of Schopenhauer, and his success at the university in
 A Student of Genius 79

Lei pzig, permitted him for the first time to take leave of his Erzieher
role and engage in friendship on equal terms. Nietzsche' s friend­
ship with Rohde represents the greatest intimacy he had enjoyed
si nce leaving home to attend Schulpforta. Unfortunately, the two
were separated soon after their friendship deepened.
•

In 1 865-66, as he wrote the philological essays that would soon

be pu blished in Das Rheinische Museumfur Philologie, Nietzsche actu­
ally had little left to learn about philology, except details about par­
ticular authors and texts. He already knew how to do philology.
While Ritschl could encourage Nietzsche and promote his career,
he could not teach him very much. Yet Nietzsche was still eager to
learn: philosophy was what he studied; and Arthur Schopenhauer
and Friedrich Albert Lange became his teachers.
Nietzsche admired Schopenhauer for being a passionate phi­
losopher who nevertheless scorned professional philosophy.42 He
was a creative thinker, not merely a scholar, and he had never been
a university professor. He took the meaning of life itself, and not
just a few arcane texts, as his field of inquiry. Nietzsche recognized
Schopenhauer as a genius from the start. Lange, whom he discov­
ered somewhat later, he never idealized in this way. But through
repeated readings of Lange's book Nietzsche learned more about
the history of philosophy than he did from any other source.
While Nietzsche never met either Schopenhauer or Lange, he
studied them intensively. He may have learned philosophy more
profoundly by reading Schopenhauer and Lange because he en­
tered so thoroughly into their ways of thinking. Fr0I)). The World as
Will and Representation he learned Schopenhauer' s system, and
about the consequential thinking required by systematic philoso­
phy. He got an orientation in the history of philosophy, and a
glimpse of Indian thought. And since Schopenhauer's philosophy
was largely a rethinking of certain Kantian positions, he learned
, something about Kant along with Schopenhauer's penetrating cri­
tique of him. It was a kind of philosophical apprenticeship with
Schopenhauer. From Lange's two large volumes on The History of
Materialism, he gleaned an education in the history of philosophy.
Nietzsche had read Schopenhauer's World as Will and Represen­
tation in October 1 865 and was immediately converted. He de­
clared himself an "ethical pessimist" at that time. At first he
subscribed to the whole system; it suited his psychological frame of
mind as he mourned the year he had wasted in Bonn. But within
80 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

the year he privately began to doubt important parts of the system,

such as Schopenhauer's negative evaluation of the will. Nonethe­
less, he maintained a personal allegiance to the philosopher long
after he had begun to question his system. Schopenhauer's impact
upon Nietzsche's thinking remained decisive. Several of the most
basic ideas in Nietzsche's life-affirming philosophy are versions of
ideas that preoccupied Schopenhauer: the view that what we can
know of the world is only appearance, and the conviction that the
will is the most fundamental reality.
Schopenhauer himself started from Kant, enthusiastically ap­
proving the negative side of Kant's critique of pure reason. He be­
lieved that Kant's demonstration of the limited capacity of human
reason to know the world was the decisive break in modern philos­
ophy, the most fundamental development in philosophy since
Plato. Kant had finally "undeceived" the human mind of its naive
realism and literal-mindedness. Schopenhauer's philosophical
project begins with an exploration of how we represent the world
to ourselves; showing that our perceptions are no more than repre­
sentations ( Vorstellungen) of the world, not the world itself. This is
the subject of the first book of his major work, The World as Will and
Representation.43 It is the first of a knotted series of propositions that
comprise Schopenhauer's idealist and world-denying philosophy.
Paradoxically, Schopenhauer's idealist skepticism about our
ability to apprehend reality became one of the cornerstones of
Nietzsche's philosophical affirmation of appearances and the will.
One of Nietzsche's most frequently restated propositions is pre­
cisely that there are only appearances. He would deny the opposi­
tion of appearance and reality by collapsing them. In The Twilight of
the Idols he asserted that reality is appearance, ascribing the idea to
Heraclitus: "The 'apparent' world is the only one; the 'real world'
has simply been lied to US."44 In Nietzsche's hands this doctrine led
to different conclusions than it did in Schopenhauer's. For
Nietzsche it served as the basis of the view that all knowledge is in­
terpretation-his "perspectivism."�5 For Schopenhauer, the fact
that our knowledge is restricted to our own representations of the
world led to the conclusion that we would be wiser not to hope for
satisfaction in the illusory world we represent to ourselves.
Nietzsche, in contrast, affirmed the will and human striving in the
most radical way. But the different philosophic uses to which they
put the idea of appearance should not obscure the fact that this
position, so very basic to Nietzsche's thinking, fits squarely in the
 A Student of Genius 81

trad ition o f German idealism, i n a very particular genealogy­

Kant: S chopenhauer: Nietzsche.
Even Nietzsche's understanding of the will derives from
sch o penhauer. In the second book of The World as Will and Repre­
sen tation Schopenhauer departed so drastically from Kant as to
ope n a whole new domain of philosophy.46 He declared that man is
not merely a perceiving (representing) being, but even more funda­
mentally a willing being, that all perceiving is ultimately in the ser­
vice of willing. This too is found in Nietzsche's mature thought,
again in a very prominent position. "The will to power" is a direct
descendant of Schopenhauer's thinking about the will, and one
that owes little or nothing to Kant or the rest of the occidental tra­
dition of philosophy. Completely rejecting Kant's discussion of
"things-in-themselves," Schopenhauer identified the will as the one
"thing-in-itself," the only metaphysical reality whatsoever.
Schopenhauer elaborated the notion of the will largely in response
to his reading of Eastern (Indian) philosophy, and, as an after­
thought, showed that the same problem was present in Christianity
, and other world religions.47 Nietzsche's originality lay in his posi­
tive evaluation of the will, and the extreme license that he allowed
for it in the doctrine of the will to power. But it was definitely fol­
lowing Schopenhauer that he too understood the will as the funda­
mental reality of the universe.
The rest of Schopenhauer's philosophy, what is presented in
books three and four of The World as Will and Representation, and
what Nietzsche soon rejected, initially impressed him too. It is only
in the second half of his major work that Schop'enllauer enters
upon the ethical implications of his view of the human subject as a
willing and repr�senting being. He explains why the representa­
tions of different individuals can never coincide on the most im­
portant matters, and how the divergent practical interests of
individual wills lead them into conflict. This is the problem for
. ' which his theory of willing not to will is the solution. Here, and in
all his writings, Schopenhauer recognized a distinction between
the egotistic "interested" knowledge of individuated, practical rea­
son, fated to frustration, and a much rarer, disinterested knowl­
edge that sees beyond the war of individual wills. The latter
objective knowledge is the exclusive terrain of the genius. It is wis­
dom , and leads to renunciation of the "interested" will, to quies­
cen ce in life.
This did not convince Nietzsche for long, perhaps because he
82 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

was soon to experience the force of Richard Wagner's very per.

sonal will in his own life. But he recognized Schopenhauer's view as
a serious attempt to solve a basic problem of life. It spoke directly to
the concerns of Nietzsche's extended adolescence, for he was still
struggling with his own ambition, distrustful of socially accepted ca.
reer goals, and wary of devoting himself completely to philology.
Schopenhauer suggested to Nietzsche that it was possible to face the
paradoxes and compromises of existence squarely, come to terms
with them, and even respond creatively to them. This earnest engage.
ment of actual problems of life was precisely what Nietzsche found
missing in everything else that he read. Schopenhauer may not have
solved the problem to Nietzsche's satisfaction, but as Nietzsche saw it,
by spending his life as an unrecognized prophet, Schopenhauer had
sacrificed his life to his philosophy. More than anything else, this drew
Nietzsche to Schopenhauer.
Nietzsche encountered Lange's book, Die Geschichte des Materialismus
und Kritik seiner Bedeutung in der Gegenwart ("The History of Materi.
alism and Critique of Its Present Significance") in the summer of
1 866, about a year after he had become a disciple of Scho­
penhauer.48 He found Lange's work to be a goldmine of informa­
tion that would permit him to enlarge the basic philosophic view
that he had developed reading Schopenhauer. In effect Lange gave
Nietzsche the history of philosophy in a single, provocative pack­
age. Like Schopenhauer, Lange was a neo-Kantian, but his empha,
sis was different: although he wrote his history of materialism as a
history of a delusion, he was much more at ease with modern soci­
ety and scientific thought, and he accepted scientific methods of
investigation. Ultimately this made Lange's ideas more useful to
Nietzsche than Schopenhauer's proved to be. Lange was an origi­
nal thinker too, but an unpretentious one. Making no effort to per. '
form the role of the genius, he was actually surprised that his
magnum opus was received as something more than a tract for the
times. When Nietzsche first read The History of Materialism in 1 866,
he immediately appreciated that Lange was an indispensable com.
plement to Kant and Schopenhauer, a congenial source of infor.
mation and novel insights on every imaginable subject, organized
as a critical review of all the maj or Western philosophical posi­
tion,s, including Kant's.
In all, N ietzsche' s reading of Lange supported his S cho� ,
penhauerian epistemology. In a letter he wrote to Gersdorff,
Nietzsche quoted Lange's conclusions:
 A Student of Genius 83

( l ) The sensory world is the product of our [biological] organiza­

tion.
(2) Our visible (bodily) organs are like all other parts of the world of
appearances, images of unknown objects.
(3) Our real organization remains as unknown to us as the truly ex­
ternal objects.49

auer's
Nietzsche understood Lange to support Kant's and Schopenh
as carried
skepti cism. The idealist critique of what we can know,
out by Kant and Schopenha uer, diverges radically from the biolog­
Darwin. But Lange gave
icall y materialist anthropology of
Nietzs che a crucial hint as to how the two doctrines could actually
be co mbine d and could reinforce each other. Accepting the biolog­
will.
ical b asis of human perceptio n and will, Lange legitimate d the
He did not favor the renunciati on of the will as Schopenh auer did,
but app roved the human struggle for mastery of the environme nt.
Here was a seed of Nietzsche 's will to power.
Kant was the critical turning point in Lange's history of philos­
oph y,just as he was in Schopenhauer's work. Lange's large chapter
on Kant informed Nietzsche better on that philosoph er than
Scho penhauer had. (It is not clear whether Nietzsche ever read
Kant systematically himself.) Later movements are also covered in
The History of Materialism, such as English political economy and
Darwinian thought, subjects that Nietzsche was never able to read
in the original because of his deteriorating eyesight. As Nietzsche' s
only source for these essential subjects, Lange was a s important as
Schopenhauer in Nietzsche' s philosoph ic educ�tion. Nietzsche
made some unqualified statements about Lange aCthe time. In a
letter to a fellow student he called The History of Materialism "the
most important philosoph ical work of recent decades." He could
praise it for pages. All he needed was "Kant, Schopenha uer, and
this book of Lange's."5o
Two years later, in a letter to Gersdorff, Nietzsche made an
even more extensive claim for Lange, indicating precisely how
Nietzsche would use his book.

If you want to inform yourself thoroughly about the materialist move­

ment of our time, about the natural sciences with their Darwinist the­
ories, their cosmic systems, their . camera obscura, and so on, and
. .

again about ethical materialism, Manchester theory [i.e., political

economy], etc., then I cannot recommend anything more excellent
84 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

than The History ofMaterialism, by Friedr. Alb. Lange (Iserlohn 1 866), a

book that gives infinitely more than the title promises, a real treasu re
!) l
of a book that you can read over and over again:
•

In fact, Nietzsche continued to rely upon Lange's History, and cited

a myriad examples from it in his later works, long after he had
ceased to read Schopenhauer at all. 52 After writing this letter to
Gersdorff, however, Nietzsche never again mentioned Lange's
name in his correspondence. Perhaps Nietzsche did not realize
how his reliance upon Lange grew as his interest in Schopenhauer
faded. Or he may have been embarrassed that he relied upo n
Lange for his knowledge of philosophical positions that he could
not read in the original. But it is also true that Lange's big and care·
fully studied book was strictly a source of information and provoc·
ative ideas for Nietzsche; Lange himself was never the person al
inspiration that Schopenhauer was.
Schopenhauer was more than an intellectual mentor. Nietzsche
learned the role of the heroic·philosophical personality from him,
the role of the genius. As he wrote a few years later in a little book
entitled Schopenhauer als Erzieher ( l 874)-"Schopenhauer as Educa·
tor," one of the Untimely Meditations-Schopenhauer became his
adoptive parent and life model.53 Nietzsche had by then spent sev�
eral years in admiring devotion to Schopenhauer (since 1 865), and
Wagner (since 1 869). He thought he could explain from his own
experience how culture serves a potentially creative individual by
providing models like Schopenhauer and Wagner. Following their
examples had helped him to become himself, his best self. Culture.
had not held out for acquisition talents that he did not already pOSe
sess, like "artificial limbs, wax noses, or spectacles." It offered great
examples,

educators and formative teachers [who] reveal . . . to you what the true
basic material of your being is, something in itself ineducable and in
any case hard to realize, bound and paralyzed: your educators can
only be your liberators.54

According to Nietzsche, culture provides what in loosely Freud·

ian terms are called "ego ideals." As he put it, "only he who has
given his heart to some great man receives the first consecration of
culture;"55 only after submitting to some teacher can a young per·
son become creative in his own right. To Nietzsche, giving himself
 A Student of Genius 85

to a great man meant identifying with that man in fantasy and em·
ulating him like a son emulates a father .

It is true that I only found a book [not Schopenhauer himself], and

that was a great lack. But I made all the more effort to see beyond the
book and to picture the man whose great testament I had to read, the
man who promised to make only those his heirs who wished to be and
were capable of being more thanjust his readers: namely, his sons and
pUpl'1 S.56

The effort " to picture the man" is a work of fantasy, a young man's
attempt to reach beyond himself, to bring himself to the point
where he could move creatively and independently among other
great men. Having lost his real father at such an early age,
Nietzsche, now faced with the necessity of defining himself as a
man and choosing a profession, was desperate for a fatherly pre·
ceptor. Schopenhauer was the first model worthy of his complete
dedi cation.
Schopenhauer was a precocious philosopher himself. He pub·
lished his first book in 1 8 1 3 at the age of twenty· five, On the Fourfold
Root ofSufficient Reason. This earned Schopenhauer the doctorate in
philosophy; and it presaged the entire system of philosophy that he
presented to the world in 1 8 1 9 in his maj or work, The World as Will
and Representation, when he was a mere thirty·one years old. Then,
In 1836, he published a small book On the Will in Nature, buttressing
his philosophy with corroborations drawn from the natural scien­
tific research of his day. And in 1 84 1 The Two FU'lidamftntal Problems
of Ethics appeared. Although all of these books were ignored, he
continued to writ�, publishing a second volume of The World as Will
and Representation in 1 844; it consisted of essays that filled in gaps
and enlarged upon aspects of the original edition. In 1 85 1 he pub­
lished another two-volume work entitled Parerga and Paralipomena,
a Greek title roughly translated as "after-thoughts and asides;"
these were essays elaborating his system still further. An astonish­
ing characteristic ofSchopenhauer's oeuvre is that he never found it
nece ssary to revise the system of thought that he had devised in his
twenties. With absolute self-confidence, he simply enlarged and
elab orated upon his own basic ideas.
Throughout his career as an author, Schopenhauer remained
unc on nected with universities or the philosophical establishment,
and largely unrecognized in German literary magazines.
 86 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Schopenhauer took a perverse pleasure in this lack of recognition.

In caustic prefaces, he mocked his rivals, "the university philoso­
phers," and the shallow public that admired them. He anticipated
that the time would come, however, when select and worthy read­
ers would discover him. This attitude derived from the nineteenth­
century myth of the unrecognized genius, and the systematic
consistency of Schopenhauer's works is almost a caricature of the
inherent unity that was supposed to characterize the works of a ge­
nius.57 Schopenhauer understood himself as an unrecognized ge­
nius. He self-consciously lived this belief and propagated it in his
n prefaces. Like many other artists and thinkers of the century, he
!.if modeled his life upon the assumption of his unrecognized geniu s,
\
I both to marshall his own energies for the enormous creative task

\
that he set himself, and to make himself ultimately recognizable as
� a genius. He too lived an autobiographical life.
Schopenhauer did not remain permanently unrecognized,
however. When an English author discovered the Parerga and
Paralipomena, Schopenhauer finally received a favorable review .
This was the work of John Oxenford, the translator of Goethe' s
writings, who published several essays on Schopenhauer in the
Westminster Review. 58 Oxenford's essays were soon translated into
German and republished in the Vossische Zeitung. This led to a sud·
den surge of interest in Schopenhauer's works in Germany, which
he could still enjoy before his death in 1 860.
So when Nietzsche discovered The World as Will and Representa­
tion in 1 865, the philosopher was no longer unknown. In fact, he was · ·
well known as a kind of martyr to his philosophy, as an unrecognized
genius who had persevered with remarkable consequence in elaborat­
ing an uncongenial but truthful system of philosophy without any in· .
tercourse with his contemporaries. His philosophy came complete
not only with those prefaces in which Schopenhauer advertised h�m·
self as an unrecognized genius, but with a carefully elaborated theory
of the genius as part of its contents. And since he had long been un,
'
recognized, every reader could now imagine himself to be one of the
select readers that Schopenhauer had foreseen, one of those who had
discovered and could appreciate the hero. This is an interesting con�
ceit that has functioned in the reception of many other thinkers, in�
eluding Nietzsche himself. It may have enhanced Nietzsche's feeling
for Schopenhauer. For while Schopenhauer was now quite popular ,
Nietzsche could still conceive of his interest in the philosopher as
kind of conspiracy.
 A Student of Genius 87

Schopenhauer's theory of the genius is one of the most impor­

tan t sources of Friedrich Nietzsche's thinking about himself as a
creative person and about the genius in general. Friedrich had
know n about genius when he wrote his autobiography at age four·
teen, casting himself in the role of Goethe, and he assimilated more
in the ensuing years. But Schopenhauer was the first person whom
he i den tified as his educator in genius. Nietzsche naturally paid
particu lar attention not only to Schopenhauer' s example, but to
the se ctions of Schopenhauer's works in which he treats the subject
of genius. For a time Schopenhauer's theory of genius became
Nietzsche's. When he met Richard Wagner in November 1 868,
Nietzsche would write to one of his friends that Wagner was the
very incarnation of what Schopenhauer had written on the ge-
nius.59
Schopenhauer understood the genius to possess a detached
and contemplative view of the world. In contrast to the vast major­
ity of mankind, the genius has objective knowledge, which for
Schopenhauer meant direct apprehension of the nature of things,
the (Platonic) Ideas. This type of understanding is possible only as
the result of an inborn surplus of intellect, beyond what would be
necessary to complement the will in practical life. This is a great
anomaly because, in the ordinary mortal, the will preoccupies the
intellect.
Ordinary people, according to Schopenhauer, necessarily per­
ceive the world from egotistic points of view, each governed by his
· particular will and its practical, purposive interests. This is what
Schopenhauer (and after him Nietzsche) referred to in ,Latin as the
principium individuationzs-the principle of individuation: human
beings are alienated from each other in their very perception of
the world by their conflicting wills. They seldom if ever transcend
the purposive striving of daily existence, and can therefore never
see the world disinterestedly, but only in terms of utility. The ge­
nius, however, has intellect to spare. As Schopenhauer wrote in
one place, if an ordinary person is composed of one-third intellect
and two-thirds will, the genius is two·thirds intellect. As a result the
genius may be less practical and perhaps more unhappy. But his
surfeit of intellect permits him to apprehend the world unencum­
bered by his will, i.e., by his practical purposes and interests.
What distinguishes the genius, therefore, is a quality of percep­
tio n quite lacking in others, even in the most talented. It may give
rise to works of art or philosophy, but such works do not make the
 88 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

editio n o
geniu s. As Schop enhauer wrote of the artist in the first
The World as Will and Representation,

The Artist lets us peer into the world through his

eyes. That h e ha
these eyes, that he knows the essential in things which
lies outsi de a
relatio ns, is the gift of genius and is inborn ; but that
he is able to le nd
us this gift, to let us see with his eyes, is acquired, and
is the tech nica
side of art. 60

The techn ical side of art, what Schop enhauer elsewher�

calls m im
icry, is not restricted to the geniu s. Unlik e the innate
perce p tive
capacity of the geniu s, it can be learn ed; and it can be
put to other
purpo ses than communica ting such perce ption s, name
ly, in mak
ing palatable copie s of what is already comm onpla
ce. For
S chope nha� er, it is not the work of art produ ced by
a geniu s that
distin guish es him most funda ment ally, but his capac
ity to see the
world in its essen ce. Thus Schop enhauer characterizes
the differ­
ence between the genius and the merel y talented with
a sim·
" [The man of] talent is like the marksman who hits
a target that
who hits a
others canno t reach; [the] geniu s is like the mark sman
target . . . [the] others canno t even see." The mark
that the genius
sees (and hits) is of no imme diate practical utility . It
is objec ti
know ledge . And as he surveys it, the geniu s is not a willin
g individ­
ual, but the pure, will-le ss, knowing subj ect. But he may
in his works.
show it to the rest of mank ind, and thus alter everything
.
Schop enhauer's thoughts on the geniu s includ e many
other
tions comm on to ninet eenth -century writin g on geniu
s. For exam"
pIe, he subsc ribed to the cliche that "geni us is next to
madn ess."�l
And he assum ed that the geniu s would not only be
initia lly un:
�ecogn izable: but would find himse lf oppo sed by his conte mporar�
I �S. If these Ideas were the comm on intell ectual prope
rty of .' ..
his own. It
nIneteenth century, Schop enhau er's expla natio n was
lay preci sely in the excess of intell ect. The geniu s is less
comp etent
than the ordinary perso n in the practical affairs of life
becau se his
will is defici ent or overwhelmed by his intell ect. Schop
enhau er un�
derstood this imbal ance to be physi ologi cal, and simila
r to the im­
balan ce that produces madn ess. Furthermore,
the objec tive
know ledge that the genius has of the (Plato nic) Ideas
is not directly
the nature of
releva nt to day-to-day life. His direc t appre hensi on of
thing s gives his know ledge a timel ess quali ty incom patib
le with the
 A Student of Genius 89

of trivin gs of his contemporaries, who are so full of momentary pur­

s o se. His very insight estranges him from his fellows.62
P Wh ile Nietzsche undoubtedly heard these characteristics as-
crib ed to the genius by other sources, S chopenhauer gave them a
as
hil os ophically coherent and psychologically cogent explanation.
aU
d
� l th ou gh he was not so bold as to begin thinking of himself as a
al fully formed genius, he did take Schopenhauer' s understanding of
genius to explain certain of his own worries about himself. In par­
ticu lar, the concern about sanity that he had expressed to Dr.
Zimmerman at Schulpforta, a concern that apparently stemmed
m­ from his father's alleged insanity; the sense of alienation that he
e felt among his fellow students and fraternity brothers in the Fran­
r conia; and his preoccupation and indecision about which of his in­
k­ terests and talents he should abandon as he tried to make a
r decision about a career. And if he ever wondered about his lack of
t interest in women, Schopenhauer explained that too. While
e Schopenhauer did not solve any of these problems for N ietzsche,
­ he seemed to suggest that they were understandable in a young
man in whom the intellect predominated over the will. This must
'
t have been reassuring.
a .
.

s At the end of September 1 867, Nietzsche was surprised to learn

•. that he had been found physically fit to serve in the army, in spite
­ of his extreme nearsightedness. He quickly tried to arrange to serve
his year in a university city, and made a trip to Berlin for the pur­
pose. His effort failed, however, and he was condemned to the
mounted artillery in N aumburg.
, Nietzsche spent a year in Naumburg as a reservist in the
mounted artillery. He worried about being away from the univer­
.... sity. Living at home was no longer the consolation it would have
.
been just a year or two earlier. In letters to his friends he com­
. plained of loneliness and boredom. In a particularly poignant let­
ter to Erwin Rohde he imagined that Rohde could see him cleaning
the stalls, brushing down his horse, riding, and so on; and when he
turned around in the saddle he thought he could see Rohde riding
right behind him.63 Rohde had been more than a fellow student
with similar interests; he was someone "whose seriousness about
. life was the same as my own, who evaluated things and people with
approximately the same standard as I, and whose whole being fi­
nally has a strengthening effect upon me." The separation was
painful. Nietzsche wrote that he had not fully appreciated
90 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Schopenhauer until then. He sought consolation reading a few

pages of the Parerga.64
The military deprived Nietzsche not only of Rohde' s compan­
ionship but of the considerable gratification he had got from his
philological activity in Leipzig. To compensate, perhaps, one of the
projects he set himself for this year away from the university was to
organize and edit a Festschrift for Ritschl, a collection of scholarly
essays by the already scattered members of the Philological Socie ty .
Nietzsche was pleased when Rohde finished and submitted his
paper, but by the beginning of May 1 868 it was clear that the other
contributors were too busy, taking their state examinations, accept­
ing jobs as schoolteachers, getting married-all too preoccupied
with their personal lives.65 This provoked Nietzsche to bitter criti­
cism of philology and philologists. The very philological project in
which he invested himself while away from Leipzig was contribut­
ing to his disillusion.
Nietzsche complained that there was far too little true enthusi­
asm (Begeisterung) among young philologists, students and instruc-
tors alike. Most were morally stunted as a result of senseles s
memorizing while neglecting their spiritual development, and the
few who were more than mnemonic drudges were vain and arro­
gant. Even Jakob Bernays, the most brilliant young philologist in
'
Nietzsche's estimation, indulged his vanity intemperately.66
Nietzsche could see no one who was capable of both a philosophi�
cal view of his discipline and an ethical attitude toward life, taking :
both of these adjectives in their Schopenhauerian sense. He fanta�i,
sized that he and Rohde would dedicate their careers to combating
this situation. Not that they would change the climate-.- ,
Schopenhauer had taught them better than to expect success. They,
would merely do their part so that a few young philologists might,'
be "born with the necessary skepticism, free from pedantry and the i
overestimation of their discipline, and as true promoters of hu�
manistic studies." "Soyons de notre siecle," he wrote. "Let' s be citizens;,!
of our own century" would be their motto, flatly contradicting the'·,
ethos of professional philology.67 The two friends would thus
leaven the philological profession with philosophy�, ;
Schopenhauer's. Nietzsche did not relish this task; rather, he reo
garded it as an ethical obligation, a duty.
As a philologist he was anxious to give his own writing a more,
explicit philosophical orientation. After he finished a few of the
philological tasks he already had pending, he hoped to turn to writ-,\
 A Student of Genius 91

ing a book about Greek literary history from a Schopenhauerian

p oint of view. He even managed to make a considerable number of
notes on the subject, notes that indicate he had already decided
th at the historicist ambition of Ranke and others to understand
" h oW it really was," or "wie es eigentlich gewesen," was misconceived.
Literary history, he recognized, had always been written in the ser­
vice of contemporary philosophical needs; his ambition was to re­
veal the malaise of a positivistic generation that thought it had no
such n eeds (nor any such philosophy).68 As it happened, Nietzsche
only made notes for this project; but it was in this spirit that he
wrote The Birth of Tragedy a few years later.
Another fantasy that Nietzsche shared with Rohde was the idea
of working and studying in Paris, "the capital of civilization."69 This
idea contained the desire to do something relevant, in particular
studying modern science; but it also showed an inclination to
bohemianism, and frustration with the expected and acceptable ca­
reer choices. It was an excellent plan, and it would be interesting to
, speculate on how Nietzsche' s career would have turned out, had he
gone to Paris. He was still planning the move when he returned to
Leipzig in the fall of 1 868; only the call to the professorship i n
Basel finally killed the plan. B y that time, however, the trip had
come to represent an abandonment of philology for further study
'
, in the natural sciences-a complete change of career.
Nietzsche' s fantasies were punctured in March of 1 868, when
'
: after five months of military service he accidentally fell off his
; horse.7o Suddenly he found himself in bed with broken ribs and
' torn muscles in his chest. His wound became infec�ed and festered
for months until he was finally remanded to a mili tary-sanatorium
for the month ofJuly; his year of military service expired before he
' could get back into the saddle. As unpleasant as this ordeal was, it
did give Nietzsche time to sift through his papers. Whereas most of
what he had done while in training had been speculative and fanci­
ful, he was now faced with the necessity of doing something con­
crete. As a result, his ambivalence about philology became more
pronounced.
Much of the philological work that he did after his accident was
drudgery. He spent a good deal of time making an index for the
first twenty years of Ritschl's Das Rheinische Museumfiir Philologie. It
was a mindless task, and he despised it; doing it only out of loyalty
to "father Ritschl," as he called him in a letter to Rohde. Then he
revised several of his own Leipzig papers for publication in the
 92 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

samejournal. Sometimes he could convince himself that these pap ers

were permeated by a Schopenhauerian pessimism and that they led
toward a truly philosophical philology. At other times, however, he
was depressed that he had not the time to improve them by making
his philosophical position more explicit and prominent; and yet he
was only too glad to get rid of them by sending them off for Rits chl
to publish. At the end of the year he complained that his publi ca­
tions distressed him: wasn't it a mistake to publish such stu ff,
largely false, insignificant, immaturely expressed? This regret,
partIy the result of Nietzsche's deepened capacity for self-criticis m,
also reflects his growing impatience with the genre of scholarly
writing, and deep displeasure at his own involvement in it.71
His most persistent concern after his accident was the prosp ect
of writing a thesis. He would have to write one if he was to avoid
taking the Staatsexamen and becoming a school teacher, and that
was out of the question. He was contemptuou s of philology stu ­
dents whose professional ambition was no higher than to get a se­
cure job and marry. But by now he had nearly as much disdain for
the idea of writing a thesis as he did for the Staatsexamen. He advised
Rohde not to use the paper he, Rohde, had prepared for the Ritsch l
Festschrift, as a thesis: it was far too good for that purpose. Rather,
he should choose a subject at random, insignificant, boring, com:
mensurate with the requirement; with that the convention of a dis­
sertation would be admirably fulfilled.72
To Paul Deussen, who had by now seen the error of his ways
and changed from theology to philology, Nietzsche wrote several
schoolmasterly letters on Deussen's pretentious dissertation plans;
he instructed Paul to think of himself as a factory worker and his
professor as the employer: he should do any job assigned to him,
no matter how trivial, and above all not expect to express himself
creatively. He himself, he wrote, was beyond that. He was thor­
oughly disillusione d with the whole genre of philological writi ng.
He was planning instead to write a philosophical dissertation on
"the concept of the organic since Kant."73 Nietzsche declared his
interest in a philosophical dissertation to Rohde as well, but admit­
ted that it was a rather impractical idea; instead he would write a .

dissertation on the mythic competition between Homer and

Hesiod, incorporating his Schopenhau erian view of literary his­
tory.74 He proposed this to Ritschl too and it eventually became the
subject of his inaugural lecture at Basel. But he never did write a
thesis.
 A Student of Genius 93

Instead of writing a dissertation, Nietzsche busied himself with

sch openhauer. He propagandized for Schopenhauer, even making
a co nvert of a Naumburg pastor. He thought of putting himself in
con tact with prominent S chopenhauerians like Friedrich
Sp ie lhagen, Eugen Diihring, and Julius Frauenstadt. To Gersdorff
he su ggested that they get their "philosophical friends together," as
if to organize a Schopenhauer Verein.75 At the same time, Nietzsche
felt a growing ambivalence. Schopenhauer had made philology
seem trivial, and Nietzsche was anxious to give his philological
publicatio�s the saving grace of a philosophical point of view
drawn from Schopenhauer. He might even have written about
Schopenhauer himself. But when Nietzsche sat down to write about
Sch openhauer, he found himself quite critical.
Nietzsche believed the value ofSchopenhauer's contribution to
philosophy depended upon the viability of the concept of "will"
that he employed to solve Kant's problem of metaphysics. "The
wil i ," Nietzsche now noted, was open to a number of "decisive ob­
jections;" unfortunately he did not spell them out. But Nietzsche
apparently saw that he would have to affirm the will rather than
renounce and suppress it, as Schopenhauer advocated. Perhaps
this was also the first inkling that he would have to oppose meta­
physics itself. But there can be no doubt that Nietzsche concluded
at this point that Schopenhauer's solution to the problem of meta­
physics had failed.76
Nietzsche nevertheless reconciled himself to continued loyalty
and devotion to Schopenhauer. For while Schopenhauer was phil­
osophically wrong, he was a genius, and an invalu-al:>l � ethical pre-
ceptor.
Nietzsche's alP-bivalence about Schopenhauer explains why he
did not abandon philology for a dissertation on "the concept of the
organic since Kant." Such a project would have involved him in a
public critique of his ideal. What is odd is that his notes suggesting
a comprehensive negation of Schopenhauer's system of thought
have no precedent in his correspondence, not even with Rohde.
Schopenhauer was his master, his "first love," the ideal after whom
he refashioned his intellect, and yet suddenly he was in a position
to mount a frontal, intellectual attack upon him. It is as if he had
innocently applied his intellectual skills to his master, and before
he realized what he had done, had laid the master' s system in ruins.
Paul Deussen sensed that Nietzsche was no longer in agreement
with Schopenhauer, at just the time he was catching up and becom-
 94 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

ing a disciple of Schopenhauer himself. Deussen suggested that

Nietzsche write a critique of the philosopher, only to be brusquely
r�buffed. ��th the r�mark tha� one does not refute a Weltanschauung
WIth lOgIC. And NIetzsche dId not actually make this attack up
Schopenhauer in print until many years later. He was still holdinong
back his criticism when he wrote "Schopenhauer as Educator" in
1 874.
This peculiar situation is understandable as a functi on
Nietzsche's p�ychological attach ment to Schop enhauer. Havinofg
chosen the phIlosopher for a father figure, he naturally discover
conflicting feelings for him. The natural ground upon which etod
criticize him was intellectual, and Nietzsche's intelle ctual obj ec.
tions to Schop enhauer's concep t of the will may have been wel
founded. But Nietzsche was not so impetu ous as to throw off hisl·
discip leship to Schop enhauer altogether, simply becau se he dis·
agreed with him intellectually. His refusal to reject Schop enhau
at this point demonstrates again that with Schopenhauer he waers
worki ng through unresolved feelings about his father. He was also
redefi ning himself-becoming a philosopher in the steadfastly
honest sense in which he understood Schop enhauer to have been
philos opher. He was becoming someone who could philos ophizea
as Schopenhauer did, rather than simply someone who accep ted
Schopenhauer's conclusions.
This is what a prospective genius must do-reach the level of
the genius who has been his model, and then overcome or go be­
y� nd � im. He must transcend his model in order to becom e a ge­
nIUS hImself. In 1 868 Nietzsche was just beginn ing to realize that he
would have to do this; and his reluctance to take this step shows in
his letter to Deussen, rejecting the idea of a critique of Schoo
penhauer's ideas.
••

On his way to the sanatorium in July 1 868, Nietzs che passed

t�rough Leipzig and visited a number of friend s, includ ing the
RItschls . The high point of his trip, he wrote, was conversatio n and
playing the piano with Frau Ritschl. He notified his family and
Rohde that she was now his intimate Freundin, a term that almost
connotes "girl friend" here. 78 What they played together was
Wagner, about whose music Nietzsche still had serious reserv
tions. But now he began to speak of Schopenhauer and Wagner ina­
the same breath. Frau Ritschl also inspired him with a desire to
 A Student of Genius 95

t
� nter more actively into the social life of Leipzig; his entree would
e Frau Brockhaus, sister of Richard Wagner, and Sophie
Rits chl's best friend. There is an oedipal dimension to this
seu do- romantic enthusiasm for the wife of his Doktorvater. And
h is aspiration to an exciting social life again seems rather unrealis­
tic given his formal demeanor. But these unexpressed hopes and
feeli n gs seem to have temporarily reconciled his ambivalences,
bringing him back to Leipzig and philology with enthusiasm and a
fresh disposition.
Nietzsche returned to Leipzig in the autumn of 1 868 to a new
style of life, definitely not the life of a student. He referred to him­
self in his letters as "Leipzig's future Privatdozent" and even signed
hi s name with "Dr." although he had not begun to write the doc­
toral dissertation. He took a room with the prominent Leipzig fam­
ily of Karl Biedermann, who was a natio �al �olitician, hi.storian,
and editor, as well as a professor at the unIversIty. There NIetzsche
could expect to meet many of Leipzig's important people. He met
the editor of the Literarisches Centralblatt and began to contribute
articles to it. And he got himself appointed theater critic for the
Deu tsche allgemeine Zeitung (Biedermann, his landlord, was the
editor of that periodical). He attended the theater and concerts reg­
ularly, often in the company of Frau Ritschl (but apparently never
with a woman his own age), and took a close interest in theatrical
personalities such as the actress Hedwig Raabe, and Heinrich
Laube, the new director of Leipzig's Gewandhaus theater. He went
to teas, suppers, and parties, avidly meeting important people. He
was eager to enter creative circles, and apparently �ager to enter
upon a creative life of his own, even ifhe was unsure precisely what
he would create.
Nietzsche's le tters to friends, describing these activities, also
changed. In listing all the things he was doing, and mentioning all
the people he met (and even those he could have met had he cho­
sen to make the effort), he seems to have lost all modesty. 79 He
shows no empathic awareness of how his friends might feel reading
such letters, nor does he seem to consider th(:lt his style of life and
sense of importance conflicted with his discipleship to
Schopenhauer. This aggressive self-affirmation in his correspon­
dence paralleled his aggressive new social life. Unaccompanied by
any new creative achievement, however, Nietzsche's changed atti­
tude about himself seems more of a prelude than the realization of
a new creative self.
 96 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

It is hard to know how long Nietzsche could have maintain ed

this pace in Leipzig, since other things happened even faster. B e
fore a single semester of his renewed student life could pass, he had
met RI.�hard Wagner and been appointed professor of classical phi­
lology In Basel. These fateful events marked his life as much as any
others.
Nietzsche was won over to Wagner and his mus ic in the mon
before he actually met the com poser. While he ths
had been
with Wagner's mus ic since Gustav Krug had introduce d him iarfami l
the Germania, until October 1 866 he had opp osed it as mod to it in
and cac�phonous. Then, playing piano excerpts from The ern
he realIzed that he had "very mixed feeli ngs," and wrot Valkyrie,
Gersdorff that "the great beau ties and virtues [of this mus e to
balanced by equally great uglin ess and weakness es."8o He was ic] are
ambivale nt about Wagner when he played the pian o score still
Meistersinger with Frau Ritschl in the summer of 1 868. But histo The
est mus t have been active, since it was he who introduced her inter�
m� sic. Between that event and his return to Leipzig in Octo to the
NIetzsche read Otto Jahn 's Essays on Music, inclu ding the oneber,
Wagner,8l and reported to Rohde: "One has to have a certa on
�
thusiasm to do such a man [as Wagner] justice; Jahn has an in en�
tive resistance to him , however, and seems to listen with half-instinc­
ears .': Ni �tzsche nonetheless admits that he agrees withJahn closed
acterIZatIon of Wagner as the foremos t represen tative of a 's char­
�endency i� music to drag all modes of artistic expression toge modern
Into confusIon. And yet Nietzsche is amazed at the range of Wag ther
talent, which may even permit the composer to transcend ner's
tism i? his quest for the Gesamtkunstwerk. Furthermore he fault dilettan"
for blIndness to Wagner's "ethical" personality: the energy, sJahn
and truthfulness that Wagner shared with Schopenhauer.82 vital ity,
In this muc h more positive frame of min Nietzsche attended
conce�t of Wagnerian mus ic in Leipzig on dOcto ber 27.
a
gram Included the overtures to Tristan and Isolde and The Meis The pro­
ger. Under the immediate impression of this mus tersin- .
day-he wrote again to Rohde: ic- on the same

I cann ot brin g it over my heart to reac

t to this musi c with a cool criti­
cal mind. My every fiber, every nerv
e vibra tes to this mus ic. And I
have hardly ever had such a lastin g feeli
. ng of release as upon liste ning
to thIS overture [to The Meistersinger]. 83
 A Student of Genius 97

d So it was perhaps The Meistersinger that finall.y. won N.ietz� che over
e­
to Wag'nerian music, adding to the very pOSItiVe ethIcal Image he
'T'he Mezstersznger
aI eady 1 1
' .
d .

:
had of Wagner's personality. And It was
­ at brought him face to face with Wagner, for it had been The
y � eistersinger that he had played with Frau Ritschl.
November 1 868, Wagner came secretly to Leipzig to
.sitInhisearly
�
sister Otilie Brockhaus, wife of the orientalist Professor
s ermann Brockhaus and Sophie Ritschl's best friend. Frau Ritschl
:
as invited to meet him at her friend's home. In the course of the
vening Wagner played piano excerpts fro� The .z:teistersinge�. Frau
Ritschl told him that she was already famIlIar WIth the musIC and
had played it with a young student, whom Wagn�r immediatel� d� ..
manded to meet. So Nietzsche was invited to dInner and an IntI­
mate evening with the composer on November 8. As the day
progressed he was in a state of ne:vous �nticipation. and got into a
fight with a tailor who had promIsed hIm a ne� SUIt for the oc�a­
sion. First the suit was not ready. Then, when It was finally delIv­
ered to him half an hour before he was expected by the
Brockhauses, the messenger demanded immediate payment, which
the student was unable to make. With Nietzsche trying to put the
� suit on and the tailor's helper trying to take it back, it was ripped
and Nietzsche had to go in his old suit. But the evening went won-
derfully anyway.
Wagner was in an expansive mood. He not only played hIS.
music on the piano before and after dinner, he read humorous pas­
sages from his autobiography, spoke about his youth in Leipzig
(using the Leipzig dialect to great effect), and made gr� at fun of the
music directors who were (incompetently) attempting to perform
his music. Wagn�r overwhelmed Nietzsche with the great vigor of
his personality. But he also conversed intimately with Nietzsch�
about Schopenhauer and how deeply indebted he was to the phI­
losopher, giving him the feeling that they had a good deal in com­
mon. Before the evening was over Wagner had invited Nietzsche to
visit him in Tribschen (near Lucerne, Switzerland) where he was
then living, so that they could "make music and philosophy to­
gether." And in the meantime he charged Nietzsche with the re­
sponsibility of instructing the Brockhaus family in Wagnerian
music.84
This was one of the most exhilarating experiences of
Nietzsche's life, comparable only to his discovery ofSchopenhauer
in the used-book store, and his success with his first paper before
98 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

the Philological Society. In fact, in terms reminiscent of his descrip_

tion of reading S chopenhauer, he wrote to Rohde that meetin g
Wagner had been a kind of self.discovery. He wrote that Wagner
was "the most perfect illustration of what Schopenhauer call ed
genius: yes, the similarity in all details is so great that it leaps to thea
. ' enthusiasm for the gen iu
eye. "85 A n d he qUIC kl y merged hIS
Wagner with h i s idealization of S chope nhauer. L i ke S c ho �
penhauer, Wagner was an older man, potentially a comprehensive
model for Nietzsche's life endeavors. (Wagner, incidentally, was ex­
a� tly the age Nietzsche' � real fath er would have been.)86 The o nly
.
dIfference was that by vIrtue of hIS personal accessibility, Wagner
was a � ore co ? crete and scrutable ideal than Schopenhauer had
.
b �en, gIvIng NIetzsche a realistic opportunity to compare himself
wIth the ideal. He immediately began to read Wagner's books, in­
cludIng the ponderous Opera and Drama, and in January 1 869 he
.
t�aveled to Dresden to hear his first full performance
. of a Wagne-
nan opera, Die Meistersinger.

�
Nietzsch � mig t never have had a convenient opportunity to visit
��
Wagner I � SWItz�rlan , ut, as it happened, there was an opening
for a classIcal phIlologIst In the Swiss city-state of Basel. At the time
that Nietzsche was meeting Wagner in Leipzig, Kiessling, a young
professor of classical philology, resigned from Basel's university
. '
an d Gymnaszum (called the Paedagogium in Basel). Professor
.
WIlhelm Vi scher-Bilfi nger, president of the Erziehungsrath and a
. . . .
classIcal phIlologIst hImself, wrote to six of his trusted friends at
German universities, soliciting recommendations of worthy young
scholars. Many young men were recommended, and F. Nietzsche
was mentioned by more than one of Vischer-B ilfinger' s corre­
spondents, but it was Ritschl's letters that secured the j ob for
Nietzsche.
Ritschl had already written about Nietzsche in a letter to Profes­
sor Kies �ling, who was also a former Ritschl student. (Kiessling had
.
asked RItschl for advIce about who would be a suitable replace­
ment, and specifically about Nietzsche, whose articles he had read
i� Das Rheinische Museumfur Philologie.) Now, in answering Vischer�
BIlfi ? ger on D �cember 9, 1 868, Ritschl sent him a copy of his letter
.
to KIesslIng, wIth an explanation. Ritschl had written that if the
�
B �sel au horities could see beyond the formal difficulty of
.
NIetzsche s not havIng been granted a doctorate which no author.
�
ities had ever done, they would have a perfect r placement. Warn-
 A Student of Genius 99

' ng that neither Kiessling nor any of Ritschl's other students (who
� nc lu dedJakob Bernays) should take offense, he proceeded to give
th is categorical judgmen t of Nietzsche:

A s many young scholars as I have seen developing under my supervi­

sion in the last 39 years, I have never known a young man, never tried
to advance the career of anyone in my discipline, who so early and so
young was as mature as this Nietzsche.

.
Ritschl goes on in the letter to note that Nietzsche had written his es­
says, by now published in Das Rheinische Museum, in his second and
third years at the university, and that he was the first student from
who m he had ever accepted articles for publication. He continues,

it-I prop hecy that he will stand

I f he l ives long- and may God grant
s. He is now twen ty-four years
in the front rank of German philo logist
in body and spirit , well built,
old, strong, vigorous, healthy, valia nt
addit ion he has an enviable
and made to impr ess similar natures. In
publi c. He is the objec t of
abilit y to speak clearly and persu asive ly in
to be) of the whol e philo ­
admi ratio n and the leader (with out want ing
the time when they will
logical world of Leipz ig, who can hardly await
I am descr ibing a kind of
hear him as their doce nt. You will say that
st and appro achab le be­
"phe nome non;" well, he is that, and mode
repu tation [on my opin ion
sides. . . . I woul d stake my entire acade mic
that appo intin g Nietz sche to the post in Base l] woul d turn out hap-
.
pily.s7

le for the fact that it

This remarkable letter is even more remarkab '
thejo b for Nietzsche .
Was not written in the hope of actually getting
s woul d be able to
Governed by a tone of regret that no authoritie
ul letter to a former
see beyond the lack of a doctorate, it is a wistf
Vischer-Bi lfing er
student, belat edly used as his answer to Professor
succe ssful appl icatio n.
in Base l. It was, however, the begin ning of a
Professor Her­
Visch er-Bi lfinger also received a letter from
s artic les and
mann U sener in Bonn . U sener had read Nietzsche'
author, even
had been suffic iently impressed to recommend their
So Visch er-Bi lfinger
though he hims elf had never met Nietz sche.
further abou t
wrote to Ritschl on January 5, 1 869, inqu iring
lfinger for his
Nietzsch e. In answer, Ritsc hl first prais ed Visch er-Bi
rtatio n, not­
willingne ss even to consi der his pupi l witho ut a disse
d as to overl ook bure au­
ing that no one else woul d be so enlightene
l cand idate .
cratic custo m in the inter est of a truly excep tiona
 1 00 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Ritschl answered questions that the Basel professor had appare ntly
asked: ( l ) that Nietzsche would be willing to teach six hours at the
Paedagogium; (2) that he would be satisfied with the compensation
and working conditions offered at Basel; and (3) that he was n ot
such a Prussian that he could not adapt to Swiss political and s ocial
life and custom. Ritschl obviously intended to show that Nietzsche
would accept the job if offered it. He wrote that Nietzsche was an
unpolitical person, not a Prussian nationalist; he characterized his
pupil as an unselfconscious liberal. He noted that Nietzsche's con.
centration had been in Greek literary history, with special empha.
sis upon philosophical texts, but that if teaching in any other area
should be required of him, Nietzsche would master the material
quickly and profitably. He concluded his recommendation with
the thought that Nietzsche would "be able to do everything that he
wants to do."88
With this letter, Nietzsche's appointment had practically been
secured. Nietzsche himself still had to write a letter (February 1,
1 869), explaining his willingness to accept the job if it were offered
to him, to propose what he might teach, and give a brief (and not
very personal) autobiography.89 Then Vischer·Bilfinger had to con.
vince his fellows in the Erziehungsrath, as well as the mayor and gov.
erning council of the city of Basel, that Friedrich Nietzsche was the
right man for the job. On January 29 Vischer-Bilfinger formally
recommended to the mayor that Nietzsche be hired to replace
Kiessling.90 This was routinely approved on February 1 0, 1 869. The
official letter of appointment was written to Nietzsche on the
twelfth.91
The rest followed quickly. Nietzsche at first thought that he
would revise his work on Diogenes Laertius as a doctoral thesis. But
that proved unnecessary. On March 23 the University of Leipzig
conferred a doctorate upon him in recognition of his publications
in Das Rheinische Museum. Then, after some deliberation, Nietzsche
decided to give up his Prussian citizenship so that he would be in­
dependent of Prussian military service in the event of a war. His
application to be relieved of his citizenship was approved on April
1 7, 1 869. (By not maintaining constant residence in Switzerland or
anywhere else, he never secured Swiss or any other citizenship, but
remained stateless for the rest of his life.) After a leisurely trip from
N aumburg by way of Cologne, Bonn, Heidelberg (where he wrote
his inaugural lecture on Homer and Hesiod in his hotel room), and
·
Baden-Baden (where he attended another performance of
 A Student of Genius 101

·
Wagner's Meistersinger), he arrived i n Basel o n April 1 9. H e would
b egin �eaching in May.
It was an unparalleled appointme nt. Quite aside from the eco-
nom ic security and enhanced social status that he would get as a
university professor, it was an honor to have been hired in this ex­
traordinary manner. Franziska and Elisabeth Nietzsche reacted
with great-and from Friedrich's point of view, excessive- enthusi­
asm . A job was one thing his mother could appreciate. (While
Nietzsche had confided the possibility of the appointme nt to Erwin
Rohde in advance, he kept the negotiations a secret from his family
until the very end.) Rohde wrote him an extremely sensitive letter
of encouragemen t and indeed of condolence , for he knew that
Nietzsche was not as enthusiastic about his appointme nt as virtu­
ally any other philology student would have been. He knew how
mu ch it would hurt Nietzsche to give up his plan to study in Paris.
And all his more diffuse ambitions in music, literature, and even
philosophy would have to be subordinated to the demands of his
I
j ob. Nietzsche's deep sense of responsibil ity would not have per­
mitted him to accept thejob and consciously neglect the profession
of philology.
The time for recriminatio n against philology seemed to have
passed. Nietzsche was no longer a philology student thinking of be­
com ing a philosopher or a natural scientist. He was a professor of
philology, a philologist by profession. So in March of 1 869 he
wrote a painfully honest reflection on how he had become one.
Nietzsche begins with the thought that it is generally interesting
to know how one becomes a philologist these days; after all, in
the late nineteenth century there are many mor<e vital and wor­
thy disciplines that one might study. There are those who are at­
tracted to philology by the prospect of a secure job; those who
are sent into philology unresistingly, like lambs to the slaughter,
, by their own philology teachers; there are those who are born to
teach, but not necessarily philology; and finally, "there is a small
\
community who glory in the aesthetic pleasures of the world of
Greek [artistic] forms, and an even smaller one for whom the
ideas of the ancient thinkers have not yet been thought through
to the end."
Surprisingly, Nietzsche does not count himself among the lat­
ter. He knows that he is not any one of these exclusively. Having let
himself be led into philology by his teachers, from Schulpforta to
Leipzig, and done so in order to escape from theology and the pas-
1 02 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

torat�' he s� sp�cts t�at he is not a "spec ificall y philo logical

�ure, , but a phIlologIst by resIgn
. na.
. ation ." He can only conclude th at
In becom ing a p h·l1 0 I OgiSt
.
he has given up art and philosophy. He
feels that he has abandoned his creative self and resigned him
. schaft or schol
to Wzssen self
arship without a true "caIH ng."92
It was a depre ssing note on which to begin a profe ssion a
l
reer. No wonder that later, in The Birth of Tragedy and in his ca.
other
books , he had so much energy for revenge upon schol arship .
 .
t SIX
e
f

.
r Emulating Geniuses
•

ietzsche arrived in Basel by train on April 1 9, 1 869, several

N weeks before he would begin teaching. Twenty-four years old,
he already wore a moustache, although it was still a modest one. No
dandy, he dressed in a black suit without any pretence, and wore
small, oval-shaped spectacles. He was unremarkable in appearance,
except that he gave the impression of staring.
Nietzsche moved into a small apartment in the new street, "Am
Schiitzengraben." It was at the edge of the city where the old forti­
fications had recently been leveled to make room for urban expan-
. sion. It was a splendid location, a mere ten-minute walk from the
university and remarkably similar to that of his mother's home on
the edge of Naumburg. It also gave Nietzsche immediate access to
the gardens and fields outside the city. Nietzsche now made walk­
ing his principal form of exercise and relaxation, a custom he kept
for the rest of his life. Looking northward into Germany and
France, furthermore, he had a view of both the Black Forest and the
Vosges Mountains. Nonetheless, he would orient himself toward
Switzerland, particularly toward Lucerne, where Richard Wagner
was living.
••

Nietzsche had grown so critical of classical philology that he

was ready to abandon it even before he left Leipzig, so it is surpris-
1 04 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

ing to find that he was such an energetic and even optimistic philol­
ogist when he arrived in Basel. He proved to be an excellent
teacher who won praise for his work both at the University of Basel
and in the Paedagogium (a Gymnasium or high school). He lived
modestly and continued to research, write, and publish in philol­
ogy for several years. He certainly did not scorn his profession or
act the part of an arrogant genius in Basel. Only the furor caused
by the publication of The Birth of Tragedy in 1 872 made him real ize
how far beyond the bounds of professional philology his thinking
had carried him, and he was not entirely pleased by that.
Nietzsche's inaugural lecture, "Homer and Classical Philol­
ogy," delivered in Basel on May 28, 1 869, is actually an apology for
the discipline of professional philology.l Nietzsche attacked the
view-exemplified by quotations drawn from Goethe and Schil­
ler-that philology had drained the life from the aesthetic ideals of
the past by treating them scientifically rather than imaginatively.2
Nietzsche on the contrary argued that phil o logy deserved credit for
recovering and revivifying Hellenic aesthetic and cultural ideals.
And he referred not to that great amateurJ.]. Winckelmann, whose
studies of ancient art had stimulated Goethe and Schiller, but to
the founder of professional philology, Friedrich August Wolf, and
the tradition of scholarly German philology inspired by him in the ·
nineteenth century.3 It may seem curious that he should have ar�
gued this way when he had been writing in precisely the opposite
vein only weeks before, but in now putting a good face on philol­
ogy he was apparently trying to convince himself as much as his
auditors that the profession was still a worthy endeavor.
In "Homer and Classical Philology" Nietzsche reviews the ques�
tion of Homer's authorship of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Homer's,"
authorship had first been disputed in a serious philological way by
Wolf, and the question had served as a focus of philological study
ever since. So Nietzsche could treat it as an example of how profes­
sional philology had gradually "bridged the gap between the ideal
of Antiquity-which is perhaps only the most beautiful bloom of
German love-longing for the south-and the real antiquity."4 The ' !
view of the poetic genius Homer that had prevailed before Wolf
was so unrealistic, according to Nietzsche, that "Homer" was noth7
ing but an empty name. Professional philology, by showing how
,
various hands must have been involved in the creation of different
episodes, had made the great poems and even their anonymous au­
thors more accessible. But philologists had gone too far in the
 Emulating Geniuses 1 05

other direction, he thought, ascribing nearly everything to tradi­

tion and nothing to genius; they had made the poems seem nothing
more than the result of stories passed from one untutored gene�a­
tion to another. Nietzsche argued, however, that one cannot dIS-
ense with the genius of the individual poets who wrote the
� pisodes, and he concluded somewhat dramatically that there was a
geniU S who put the pieces all together to make the great poems-
only his name was not Homer.5 • •

The discipline of classical philology had gone dIrectly agaInst

the main stream of nineteenth-century thinking on the question of
H omer' S originality. It had denied the role of the genius, the con­
cep t that otherwise dominated European thinking about creativity
in the arts and sciences. Nietzsche's inaugural lecture focuses
clearly upon the genius and the necessary role of a creative individ­
ual. It demonstrates how preoccupied Nietzsche was with the ge­
niu s theme, even before he became so familiar with Richard
I Wagner. But Nietzsche's lecture displays his. ambivalen �e in u �ex­
p ected ways. Since his conclusion goes agaInst the. graIn of nIne­
teenth-century philological research on Homer, It threatens to
undermine his declared purpose of defending philology. The lec­
ture is not actually a philological essay at all, since the inferences
about the authorship of the Iliad and Odyssey are drawn without any
reference to the texts themselves, nor is it a critical history of philo­
logical contributions to the Homeric question. Rather, it is a the ?­
retical essay on creativity, a disquisition on how the HomerIC
poems must have been written. Even in defending philology,
Nietzsche avoided practicing it. _,

The most paradoxical aspect of Nietzsche's inaugural lecture,

however, is his concluding plea for gratitude, a plea that he makes
"not in our name-for we are but atoms-but in the name of phi-
1010gy."6 Here, in an apparently conventional gesture of modesty,
Nietzsche ascribes the creative work of philology to the group and
to the tradition of the discipline, rather than to himself (or anyone
else) as an individual. What he argues for the creators of the Home­
ric poems apparently does not pertain to philologists. It is as if he
could not admit that philologists could be creative, or as ifhe could
not admit himself to be the individual author of a novel interpreta­
tion of the Homeric question. This casual remark turns out to be
the most critical passage in the inaugural lecture, for it reveals
Nietzsche's own predicament: while he believed in the theory of the
genius, he could not yet apply it to himself.
 1 06
YOUNG NIETZSCHE

For several years Nie tzsc he had bee n

penhauer as an exemplary gen ius; emulati pre occupi ed by S choo
ng Sch ope nhauer, h e ob.
viou sly aspired to be or bec om e a gen ius
�e a good philol?gist, especial� y now that he had accepted
him self. He also wanted t
o
In Bas el. But whIle he was actIng as a the job
profess ion al phi lolo gist h
evidently cou ld not beli eve in his own e
creativity. As mu ch as he
wanted to affirm the profess ion al pos
itio n he had accepted, hi
deeper beli ef that phi lology was an unc s
reative endeavor shOWed
through. It was with this ambivalence abo
ut him self and his profes.
sion that Nietzsche ann oun ced him self
to the intellectual worl d of
Basel.
Luckily, Basel was a qui et and unp
Nie tzsche to work out his ambivalence. rete ntio us pla ce for
The Swi ss federation was
loosely knit, and the goals of the liberal
Revolu tion of 1 848 had
bee n largely realized there while they wer
e repressed in the rest of
Eur ope . It has bee n suggested that livin
g in Switzerland per mitted
Nie tzsche to escape German nation alis
m to bec om e "on e of the
first Europeans of modern stam p."
The Franco ·Pru ssia n War
would drag him briefly back into the
Pru
sor of phi lology in Basel, Nie tzsche did ssia n orb it. But as profes.
not have to rep rese nt Ger.
man Wissenschajt to the world, as he wou
ld have bee n exp ecte d to,
do if he had bee n teaching in Berlin.
As a result of a reorganization of Swiss
ever, the city of Basel had bee n shorn of canton s in 1 833 , how­
its pro vin ce and thus much
of its tax base. For several decades it see
med doubtfu l whether the
city cou ld continue to sup port its venera
ble university, whi ch had
been in continu ous operation since 146
0. As the city tried to econ.
om ize, many profess ors had to teach at
the Paedagogium in addi. .
tion to lecturing at the university; Nie
tzsche was b y n o mea ns the
onl y one with such a con tract. You ng
pro
pro mo ted at Bas el, either, even when they fess ors cou ld seld om be
had proven their worth,
Those from outside Switzerland tended
to move back to better po.
sitio ns in Germany after a few years. Nie
tzsc
respect, staying in Basel until 1 879 , whe he was unu sual in this
n ill health forced him to
retire. It might have been difficul t for
Nie tzsche to get ano ther job
after the pub lication of The Birth oj Trag
to find one . He stayed there so long, it
edy, but he made no atte mp t
see ms, primarily bec aus e his
am biti on was not fixe d upo n a career
of pro motion s in the univer.
sity world. He was preoccupi ed with the
con stru ctio n of him self as
an intellectual, perhaps as a gen ius,
and with the pur suit of his
ideas in wri ting . But this was a pri vat
e preoccupation , con sist ent
 Emulating Geniuses 1 07

o
for the. time being at least with his conscientious
.
dedication to his
. w ork at the university and the Paed agoglum.
o In addition to the six hours of Greek and Latin that he taught at
the. P aedagogium, Nietzsche regularly taught seven hours at the
u nive rsl' ty. In his first semester, he gave two lecture courses and a
. ar at the university. The range of subjects he treate d .In th ese
semIn
cou rse s is extremely broad, from Hesiod an� the pre-SocratIc p h. 1-'
.
losophers among early Greek writers to LatIn epIgraphy a.nd C �c-
ero . S 0 me of his lectures were naturally devoted to subjects In
h ' h he had particular interest; for example, Aeschyi us and ear1y
� ��
r k philosophy. But for the most part the subjec�s were se1ecte?
to fit the needs of Basel's students, and ac� ordlng to ho� hIS
cou rses would fit into the curriculum alongsIde those of hIS col·
7
leagues. .
Several testimonials exist to the excellence ofN Ietzsch e' s teac h .
.
/
Ing. During the first several years-until The Birth. oj Tragedy .
ap-
pe are d-he was a popular teacher both at the unIverSIty an d th. e
. .
Paedagogium. His authority as a teacher derIved p �rtIa y :om IS 11 f h '
knowledge; the students too were aware that for hIS age NIetzsche
had an awesome command of the ancient languages and texts. But
his youth also brought him close to them, and they could feel that
he understood their difficulties. He was not aloof. Students worked
hard for him, and his colleagues appreciated the fact. As one col·
. They
league later wrote, "His students loved and respected hIm.
saw that he could empathize with their you th, a? d they under�tood
. . .
that no shroud of dusty scholarship had dlmlnls�: d hIS own Intel·
lectual youth or vigor." 8
. '< - •

In contrast to his immediate success WIth students, NIetzsche

had to contend with the initial disfavor of his two immediate col­
leagues when he arrived in Basel. For different reasons both of
them had opposed his appointment. Professo� F. D. Gerlach was
seventy-six years old when Nietzsche was appoInted. He had been
professor of Latin at Basel since 1 820, and had � een off� nded once
before by the appointment of a young man (NIetzsche s predece �­
sor Kiessling) trained by Ritschl in more modern methods of phI­
lology. Gerlach raged against Vischer·Bilfinger and seems never to
have spoken a civil word to Nietzsche. The younger of the two col­
leagues, ]. A. Mahly, was disappointed because he h �d hoped to be
.
promoted himself from his duties in the Paedagoglum to the Job
that Nietzsche got at the university. Unl �ke G:erlach, however, he
was courteous to Nietzsche when he arrIved In Basel, and fou nd
1 08 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

found Nietzsche to be an agreeable colleague. Mahly left an inter­

esting memoir of Nietzsche during these first years in Basel. H e
contrasted Nietzsche's warmth and politeness with the resentful at­
titude of Gerlach, and he praised the tolerance and attention that
Nietzsche showed to everyone he met_ However, one of Mahly' s
most interesting remarks concerns the difference between the per­
sonable Nietzsche that he knew from conversation and the
Nietzsche who wrote books.

If one had got used to N ietzsche's manner and tone of conversation,

his friendly interest in the views and opinions of others, even those
far inferior to him, . . . one could only be astonished, if not horrified,
at the metamorphosis that this gentle and harmless person underwent
as an author . . . . [Except in his writings], N ietzsche was a thoroughly
inoffensive person and enjoyed the sympathy of all the colleagues
who knew him.9

Nietzsche's agreeable disposition, his serious application to

scholarshi p, and his devotion to teaching were recognized by the
authorities as well. They wanted to keep him in Basel badly enough
to promote him and raise his salary. He had been appointed in
1 869 with a salary of 3000 Swiss Francs. In April 1 870 he was pro­
moted to "ordentlicher Professor," or professor with tenure, on the
basis of having received his doctorate, and having been a good
diligent teacher. A year and a half later, in October 1 87 1 , he was ·
granted a raise of 500 Francs for excellence in teaching, and with:
grateful acknowledgement of the fact that Nietzsche had declined,
"an advantageous offer."
Through an accident of family connections, Nietzsche had
been offered a position as princely tutor. Princess Alexandra von
Altenburg was one of the three princesses who had been tutored by
Nietzsche's father, Ludwig Nietzsche, before he assumed the pas­
torate in Rocken. She was to visit Basel in August 1 869. Nietzsche's
mother wrote to tell him of the impending visit. She instructed him
to meet the princess at the railway station with flowers. He did that, ·
.
conducted her to her hotel with her retainers, spent the eve
with her, and even accompanied her to Triebschen to visit Wagner;
He must have been a charming host, for he was eventu�lly
a job as tutor to the princess's children. He reported this offer to
the Basel authorities, who, not wanting to lose him, raised his salary
to Swiss Fr. 3500 per annum. (Nietzsche's salary was raised to Swi
 Emulating Geniuses 109

Fr. 4000 in January 1 872, again, apparently, in recognition of his

having declined an offer of employment, this time at the University
of Greifswald.) Nietzsche reported all of these events to his mother
and to Professor Ritschl without noticeable enthusiasm. Again, it
seem s he was not particularly impressed with himself as a profes-
sor.
In spite of his success as a professor, Nietzsche did not make a
rea friendship in Basel until he had been there a whole year. In his
l
isolation, his correspondence with Deussen once more became
warm, and he wrote frequently to Gersdorff. But he missed the
companionship of equals that he enjoyed with Rohde most of all.
Rohde visited him in June 1 870 for two weeks. They hiked in the
mountains, visited Jacob Burckhardt at his home outside of Basel,
and spent a couple of days with the Wagners in Triebschen. Rohde
was similarly impressed by Wagner, and the friends parted with re­
newed fervor in their intellectual-ideological partisanship. (They
would remain friends for several years more-Rohde would de­
fend Nietzsche in the controversy over The Birth of Tragedy. But
when Nietzsche's published works became progressively more ex­
treme in the 1 880s, Rohde could no longer support his friend.)
Nonetheless, after a year in Basel, Nietzsche was still without a real
friend in Basel. And this he would only ren ledy by chance.
Just before Rohde's visit in the summer of 1 870, Nietzsche was
introduced to Franz Overbeck. Overbeck came to Basel to assume
· the post of professor of theology, specializing in historical criticism
of the New Testament. It seems that the same Professor Vi scher-
, Bilfinger who had arranged for Nietzsche's appp}ntment was re­
sponsible for Overbeck's; and he arranged lodgings" for Overbeck
in the building where Nietzsche lived.
Overbeck was'seven years older than Nietzsche and came from
amuch more cosmopolitan family background. He was born in S t.
'Petersburg, Russia, the son of a German-English merchant and his
French wife. He grew up speaking French and English at home and
Russian in public. He was eleven years old and studying in Paris
when the February Revolution broke out in 1 848; he could remem­
ber singing laMarseillaise in the school choir during that time. Later
he was sent to Dresden where he completed his secondary educa­
tion at the famous Kreuzschule. He studied theology at Leipzig and
Gottingen; and like Nietzsche, Deussen, and many others, he grad­
ually lost his faith. But his dawning disbelief in Christianity did not
become the existential crisis that it was for Nietzsche, nor did it
1 10 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

compel him to abandon the study of theology; he became, for aB

practical purposes, a philologist who studied the New Testament,
but he got his degree in theology nonetheless. In Basel he publicly
disavowed Christianity but continued as professor of New Tes ta­
ment theology. So Overbeck shared a good deal with Nietzsche b e­
sides living in the same dwelling-notably, similar philological
training and a consequential atheism. But they did not become the
ideological soul mates that Nietzsche and Rohde were, nor was
their friendship empowered by the psychological forces that drew ·
Nietzsche to Wagner.
Franz Overbeck was probably not someone that Nietzsche
would have sought out. But once they were thrown together in
common lodgings, Nietzsche learned the value of his friendsh ip .
The two men lived in the same house until Overbeck married in
1873. By that time they had been addressing each other with the famil­
iar pronoun du for two years, signifying considerable intimacy. Their
daily association in these years formed the basis of lifelong trust be­
tween them. Even after Overbeck ceased to sympathize with
Nietzsche's philosophy in the mid-1 880s, he remained Nietzsche's
faithful correspondent and friend. He mediated with the Basel au-.
thorities in regard to Nietzsche's pension, and after Nietzsche left
Basel in 1879 and broke with his family in the 1880s, the Overbecks
were the only home or family he had. When Nietzsche collapsed in·
Turin in January 1889, it was Franz Overbeck who went to get him
and bring him back to Basel. Overbeck's loyalty to Nietzsche says a •

great deal about Overbeck. Nietzsche was a very critical and even in- .
tolerant person. He knew the formalities that permit one to deal po­
litely with acquaintances and professional associates, but he lacked
the consideration and social skills that make friendships last. He was
lucky to have found a lifelong friend in Franz Overbeck. Although
their friendship did not contribute in any material way to
Nietzsche's thinking or writing, it was a rare human sympathy th�t
would accompany Nietzsche to the end of his life.
•

Nietzsche had been in Basel little more than a year when

France and Prussia went to war in July 1 870. Nietzsche was noLa
particularly close observer of either German or international poli­
tics. Only eighteen months earlier Professor Ritschl had written
that "Nietzsche is certainly not a political person. He has, by and
large, a sympathy for the growing power of Germany, but has
little love for Prussiandom as I do."10
 Emulating Geniuses III

Friedrich had even renounced his Prussian citizenship upon tak­

ing up his post as professor, precisely in order to avoid being called
away from his teaching responsibilities to serve in the Prussian mil­
itary. But now, when war was actually declared, he felt that he must
serve-either as a soldier or a medical orderly. His sense of duty
must have derived from a romantic patriotism learned in child­
hood from his family and at school. Not even the Wagners, who
were critical of militarism, could dissuade him from volunteering.
Nietzsche's relationship to the state had not yet been subjected to
the same critical examination that had led him to repudiate Chris­
tianity.
Nietzsche applied for a leave of absence. It was granted by the
Basel authorities on the condition that he not enlist as a combat
soldier. In the interest of Swiss neutrality, they could only permit
him to serve as a medic. So on August 1 2, 1 870, Nietzsche left Basel
for Erlangen where he took a course in first aid and the care of
battle casualties. In ten days he was on his way to the front. On Au­
gust 29 he reached Strasbourg, where the German army had laid
siege to the city. Then he was sent on to Nancy and the environs of
Metz where heavy fighting was taking place. As he traveled through
. France he was horrified by the ravaged countryside and human car­
nage. His patriotic enthusiasm was extinguished by the empathy he
felt for French and German soldiers alike. Schopenhauer was again
his consolation. In Metz he was assigned to accompany a trainload
of wounded soldiers back to Karlsruhe. He arrived there very sick
himself, with dysentery and diphtheria. After a brief period of hos-
. pitalization in Karlsruhe, he was released to recupe:rate at home in
Naumburg on September 14.
Brief as Nietzsche' s experience of the Franco-Prussian War was,
it tested him severely, both physically and emotionally. For the first
time as an adult he saw death and asked himself about the meaning
of his own life. What he had read in Schopenhauer had to be
thought through again. His own creative work became more urgent
than ever. During the month he spent in Naumburg his ideas devel­
oped rapidly. In Basel he had already written several essays about
tragedy, but it was at this time in Naumburg that he formulated the
plan to write a long essay or a book on the history of Attic tragedy.u
After a month of recuperation in Naumburg, Nietzsche went
back to Basel in October to teach. His health was shaken, his patri­
otism chastened, and his devotion to Schopenhauer strengthened.
He was ready to make changes. Sitting in on the lectures ofJakob
1 12 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Burckhardt, he was exposed for the first time to a careful critique

of the modern state. A letter to Gersdorff on November 7, 1 8 70,
reveals that he heard Burckhardt's lecture on "Historical Great­
ness," and other lectures that were later published in
Weltgeschichtliche Betrachtungen.12 Burckhardt was also a devotee of
Schopenhauer, and Nietzsche's experience of the war had pre­
pared him to agree with these lectures. From that point on,
throughout his life, Nietzsche remained a severe critic of Prussian
militarism, and of statism generally.
Having been exposed to the real world in its most violent and
wrenching manifestation, Nietzsche was more impatient than ever
with his philological profession. During the winter semester after
his military experience, he thought he saw an opportunity for a
change. When Basel's professor of philosophy resigned to take an·
other position, Nietzsche decided to apply for thejob. It was winter
(January 1871) and he was ill again with headaches and general de·
bility. In a truly remarkable letter to Professor Vischer-Bilfinger,
Nietzsche conceded that his health had forced him to consider giv­
IS
ing up his position. It had seemed that teaching did not agree with
his nature, for by the middle of every semester he was exhausted
and in ill health. What really plagued him, however, was that as a
professor of philology he was forced to neglect his true calling, phi:
losophy. He would like to take over the professorship of philoso- ·
phy. He was competent for the job, he argued. Only the accident
that he had not been exposed to a "truly exciting philosophy pro· '
fessor," he said, had prevented him from studying philosophy in
the first place. He had been teaching seminars on philosophical
topics already, and he could point to articles like his work on Diog­
enes Laertius that showed him to be a historian of philosophy as
well as a philologist.
Nietzsche was not content to ask the authorities to accommo�
date his personal desire to change disciplines. He also suggest�d
that, once they had awarded him the professorship of philosophy�
they should make his friend Erwin Rohde the new professor of phi­
lology. He affirmed Rohde's excellent qualifications for the job,
but added that he could hardly say how much the presence of his
best friend would enrich his own existence in Basel. All in all, it was '
an audacious and indeed presumptuous request, even in the
city of Basel. But it expressed a need that Nietzsche felt very ur;
gently. Nietzsche had begun to realize-at least in his worst mo�
ments-that his health was going to be an enduring obstacle. He
 Emulating Geniuses 1 13

s en sed his own mortality, and this enhanced the urgency of his cre­
ative �mpulse. Perhaps he thought that Vischer-Bilfinger would
p erform another miracle, as he had in appointing him professor in
the first place.
Of course the professor did not honor Nietzsche's request. In
fact, he seems not even to have entertained it seriously, treating it
rather with discreet silence-no record of an answer is to be found
in the Basel archives. Nietzsche remained a professor of philology.
H e would find no easy escape from this discipline that had once
served him as an escape from theology and saved him from a career
as a pastor. He would have to settle his account with philology
more creatively, in his book, The Birth of Tragedy.
After his experience in the Franco·Prussian War, his failure to
get the position in philosophy and bring Rohde to Basel depressed
Nietzsche. Aside from Overbeck, he had made no other real friends
in Basel. He did, however, make the acquaintance of several older
professors. Wilhelm Vischer-Bilfinger, who had been responsible
for his appointment, became a fatherly protector once he arrived
in Basel. But neither the older man ' s favorable disposition nor the
fact that Vischer·Bilfinger was also a philologist seems to have over­
come the deference that Nietzsche was wont to show him. Perhaps
it was because the professor did not have the intellectual magne­
tism of a creative thinker that Nietzsche was drawn to other older
men.].]. Bachofen and]acob Burckhardt were older men with un­
usual ideas that interested Nietzsche very much. He socialized in
, the homes of the Vischer-Bilfingers and the Bachofens and ex­
changed ideas with Burckhardt. He did not really make friends
.
, with any of them, although he reached the threshold�bf friendship
with Burckhardt.
].]. Bachofen was fifty-four years old when Nietzsche arrived in
Basel in 1 869. He was a private scholar of Roman Law who had al­
ready published his major works, including Das Mutterrecht ( 1 861),
which argued for a primitive matriarchy as the predecessor of all
other human societies. The opposition of the Apollonian and
Dionysian that figures so prominently in The Birth of Tragedy is
something that Bachofen had used prominendy in his works, and
Nietzsche was undoubtedly exposed to this. But Nietzsche's use of
these terms is so original that it cannot be said that he took them
from Bachofen or anyone else. Nietzsche seems to have learned
more from Bachofen' s concentration upon the myths of the an·
cients, and from his absolutely innovative treatment of Roman cuI·
1 14 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

ture as a coherent system. 1 4 One of the reasons that The Birth of

Tragedy seems so contemporary is that it treats Attic tragedy as a
cultural artifact in which the whole culture is refracted. S o
Nietzsche's first book benefited considerably from his exposure to
these aspects of Bachofen's writings. Nonetheless, a mutual ex­
change of ideas between the two men never arose, and whatever
attraction Nietzsche felt toward Bachofen was frustrated by the
older man's reclusive nature.
Jacob Burckhardt, however, was still open to the influence of
the younger man's ideas. He was already famous for his Cicerone
(1 855) and Culture of the Renaissance in Italy (1 860), as well as other
books. But Burckhardt was a modest and ironic man, who re­
mained capable of learning from unlikely teachers. He was im­
pressed by Nietzsche' s inaugural lecture, and when Nietzsc he
gave several other public lectures on Greek topics during his
first years in Basel, Burckhardt was always in the audience. O nly
in late 1 870 do the two mention each other in their correspo n­
dence, Nietzsche enthusiastically,I5 Burckhardt with characteris­
tic modesty and understatement. 1 6 Both of them indicated to
friends that Schopenhauer was the principal topic of their conver�
sations. But the two men stimulated each other creatively as well.
Burckhardt began to think seriously for the first time about
lecturing on Greek cultural history. This led ultimately to
Burckhardt's enormous Greek Cultural History, a book that describe�
the Greeks very much as Nietzsche did in The Birth of Tragedy, as a
troubled, striving, willful people, not as the classical German writ­
ers had described them, as tranquil and idealistic.1 7 In turn,
Nietzsche attended Burckhardt's lectures, and absorbed not only
his critique of modern politics, but his ironical view of history gen�.
erally. 1 8 Commenting on these lectures, Nietzsche said: "For the
first time I am enjoying a lecture course; they are the sort of lec­
tures that I myself could give if I were older." 1 9 This intellectual ex�
change between Nietzsche and Burckhardt was very successful for .
several years, finding its apogee in 1 872 when Burckhardt gave hiS,
first lectures on Greek . cultural history and Nietzsche published
The Birth of Tragedy. And although the two drifted apart after that,
Burckhardt never lost his curiosity about Nietzsche's writings, and
Nietzsche never ceased to be curious about Burckhardt's opinion
of them.
Burckhardt's irony with respect to himself frustrated .
Nietzsche's apparent desire to idealize him. Their relationship was
 Emulating Geniuses 1 15

in sharp contrast to Nietzsche's hyperbolic relationship with Rich­

ard Wagner. Nietzsche's immediate inclination was to idealize each
of these older men. But whereas Wagner responded by encourag­
ing and even exploiting this impulse in Nietzsche, �urck? ardt
sought to frustrate it.20 Wagner was undoubtedly a chansmatIc fig­
ure, outspoken, and apparently self-confident in the extreme, yet
always in need of praise and devoted disciples. Burckhardt, on the
other hand, was a profoundly withdrawn and ironic man, no less
critical of his contemporaries than was Wagner; for his own work,
however, he was more in need of distance from his contemporaries
than of their slightest acknowledgment. While both were immedi­
ately taken with Nietzsche, they were attracted to very different as�
p ects of the younger man; Wagner found a glorious reflection of
himself in Nietzsche's devotion to him, whereas Burckhardt, from
the day of Nietzsche's inaugural lecture on the Homeric question,
saw in Nietzsche an original and independently thinking colleague
with whom he might profitably exchange ideas, without necessarily
becoming personally involved.21
Nietzsche's approach to both Bachofen and Burckhardt dem­
onstrates that he was pursuing intellectual discipleship in his rela­
tionships with older men. He was certainly not arrogating to
himself the role of the genius in dealing with them. Nor was he psy­
cholo gically inclined to sycophancy, as some observers of his rela­
tionship with Wagner have concluded. He was interested in ideas
..
and in developing his own capacity to express them. His approach
was through father figures-mature men, already accomplished in
the world of ideas. He attempted to attach himsel:( to them, in the
perhaps unconscious belief that their abilities would become his
own. Richard Wagner was the only one who welcomed his desire,
and what ensued' was one of the most florid instances of master­
disciple relationship. That dramatic encounter should nonetheless
be understood as part of a broader pattern of interest in older men,
a pattern that shows Nietzsche to be more balanced than he came
. to seem with Wagner. Nietzsche was attracted to a series of older
men, all readers of Schopenhauer, all deeply disillusioned in the
rationalism, faith in progress, and general complacency of the
nineteenth century, all enormously creative, . . . and all geniuses.
••

Nietzsche's appointment to the University of Basel brought

him unexpectedly close to Richard Wagner, whom he had met in
Leipzig in November 1 868. The composer had been living at
1 16 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Triebschen, on Lake Lucerne, Switzerland, since 1 866. When the

two men first met, Wagner had invited Nietzsche to visit him. N ow
he paid his first hesitant visit to Wagner on the morning of May 1 5,
1 869, less than a month after arriving in Basel. The gardener, who
found Nietzsche wandering around the house, apparently thou ght
he was another tourist; he informed Nietzsche that "the master"
could not be disturbed. Nietzsche asked to leave his calling card.
Wagner reportedly asked whether this professor was the Nietzsche ,
the one he had met in Leipzig. As it was, he requested Nietzsche to
return for lunch the following Monday.22 This was to be the first of
many visits and the beginning of a fascinating relationship that
would be the most important emotional encounter of Nietzsche's
life.
On that Monday Wagner again impressed Nietzsche as a
"wastefully rich and great spirit, an energetic character and a be­
witchingly lovely man," as he wrote to Erwin Rohde.23 From this
time until the Wagners moved to Bayreuth three years later,
Nietzsche was invited to Triebschen far more often than he could
come. Nonetheless, he visited the Wagners there more than twenty­
·
five times in all.24 Throughout that time of close associatio n,
Wagner's expansive personality held Nietzsche's undiminished fas­
cination_ It was Nietzsche's only experience with an artistic genius"
and Wagner would show him every facet of the romantic tempera­
ment. The geographic distance between Lucerne and Basel-a
train ride of several hours25-did allow Nietzsche a certain perspec�
tive when he was not actually in Wagner's presence, but a vision of
the imperious Wagner summoning a timid but admiring young
Nietzsche to the center of the composer's world might be the leit­
motif of their relationship in these years. It was unequal from the,
first.
The letters that Nietzsche exchanged with Wagner and Cosima
display the emotional tenor of their relationship better than aQY
other source.26 All of Nietzsche's letters are carefully composed and
literary, always deferential and rarely spontaneous. Wagner's, on
the other hand, are vigorous and familiar; they all seem to be prod­
ucts of the moment. Wagner was as quick to express his displeasure
with Nietzsche as his satisfaction. He addressed Nietzsche as his
friend, advised him freely about his work, and was obviously irri·
tated when Nietzsche could not come to Triebschen or seemed to
act too independently. As Wagner's secretary, Cosima also wrote to
Nietzsche communicating Wagner's wishes and airing her own
 Emulating Geniuses 1 17

th ou ghts . Both Wagner's and Cosima's letters to Nietzsche are

sp rink}e d with the most mundane requests-to buy Christmas pres­
en ts, for example, or to convey messages to Wagner's printer and
pub lisher in Basel. Nietzsche restricted himself to praising Wagner
an d his works, often extravagantly. He made no requests and gave
no advice. And instead of reciprocating Wagner's familiar saluta­
tion, Nietzsche addressed him as his verehrter or verehrtester Meister
(most honored master), or in one case as Pater Seraphice (angelic fa­
ther), alluding to the last scene of Goethe's Faust. 27
In retrospect it seems that Nietzsche wanted and indeed
ne d to idealize such a great genius as Wagner. He needed to
ede
make himself a disciple. And yet, Wagner's coarse jokes and his il­
licit relationship with Cosima von Biilow were imperfections that
disturbed the still moralistic Nietzsche even at first. There was fur­
thermore a trace of resentment beneath the surface of Nietzsche's
humility and filial admiration even in their early correspondence.
Th is was not unjustified, inasmuch as Wagner frequently imposed
upon the younger man, distracting him from his own responsibili­
ties.
In one of the first letters, Nietzsche professed his reverence for
Wagner and for Schopenhauer-his tutelary deities-in terms
drawn from Schopenhauer's theory of genius. But he went on to
write that he made this profession proudly, for it is the lot of the
Igenius to be recognized at first by only a few. These few can con­
sider themselves especially fortunate to have seen the light of the
genius when the masses were still lost in the fog of ignorance. But
. these few enlightened ones reach their appreciatiop of the genius
only after a struggle with the prejudices of others aild even resis­
tance within themselves. So when they finally win their way
through to the genius they have earned a right of conquest over
him.28
There is an undercurrent of urgency and frustration in
Nietzsche's assertion of his right to Wagner's attention. Perhaps he
felt that he was not getting enough of it from the composer, or that
what he was getting was not the right kind. Unconsciously identify­
ing Wagner as a father figure, Nietzsche may have felt that Wagner
shou ld have been helping him with his career, instead of enlisting
his effort to support the Wagnerian cause.
The lives of these two great men necessarily appear as chapters
in each other's biographies-Nietzsche naturally occupying a
s maller chapter in Wagner's life than Wagner does in Nietzsche's.
 1 18 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

There is, however, a tendency for any biographer of a creative'

.; � ­
ure to diminish the stature of those who are ancillary. W�O"n-=-'
...

biographers have tended to write Nietzsche off as a distinctly

original thinker who happened to write one good book while
was intimate with Wagner. They go so far as to suggest that
ever is good about The Birth of Tragedy was due to Wagner's influ.
ence upon Nietzsche.29 And Nietzsche's own biographers have
inclined to depict Wagner as an unscrupulo us exploiter. In retro.
spect, however, we ought to acknowledge that both Nietzsche and
Wagner were great creative individuals, geniuses both.
As demanding as Wagner was, he was not the villain
Nietzsche's life, not even unintentionally. The two men were so dif
ferent that no one would have accused Nietzsche of having emu.
lated Wagner; at least he did not become very much like Wagner.
Nietzsche lived a private and relatively uneventful life. Wagner's
life is an enormous story, filled to overflowing with dramatic en
counters, personal crises, love affairs, outbursts of temper, finan.
cial disasters, peregrinations, narrow escapes, great plans
disappointments, artistic triumphs, adulation, insults, vicious cri .
cism, etc. In one crucial way alone could Wagner serve as a m
for Nietzsche: the incredible bounty of Wagner's imaginatio
"wastefully rich," as Nietzsche put it-was what attracted Nie
to Wagner.
Nietzsche had yet to stretch his own imagination , or to fo
late any large creative project. But Wagner's imagination se
constantly to outstrip his capacity to realize his projects. Indeed
seemed as if no single individual could realize all the projects
Wagner conceived. And yet he was driven to realize them, and
did so with the help of the many talented individuals whom he
listed in his cause. Wagner's unpleasant temperament, especial
his unscrupulo us eagerness to use other people for his own
poses, may have been his response to the urgency of the dem;:lp.cls
that his own imagination placed upon him. These were dema
that few people ever have to deal with.30 For Nietzsche, just to
Wagner grapple with them was inspiration enough to com pens
for the great differences between them. Nietzsche already felt
ative impulses, without knowing how to deal with them. No
could have told him, but Wagner seemed to show him.
Nietzsche and Wagner were radically different creators as
Aside from the fact that Wagner was a musician and Nietzsche ul
mately a philosopher, the personal exigencies of their creative li
 Emulating Geniuses 1 19

W re very different. Wagner required large and sumptuously deco·

­ � a ed quarters and servants; Nietzsche preferred to live by himself
�In a r�oming house or a . pension his whole adult. life. .
While
N'etzsche needed peace, qUIet, an d so l '
ItU d e, an d maIntaIne d con·
ta�t w ith only a handful of people, Wagner was exceptionally gre·
friends and admirers,
. garious. He needed a large circle of devoted
e a fa r- f1ung network of correspondents, and even hostile critics; he
. eeded a great deal of attention, and his life was in constant tur­
d � oi1 as a result. Amazingly, the turmoil did not seriously distract
him from his work; he thrived upon it.
As far as their respective oeuvres are concerned, Nietzsche's was
to be a work of criticism and, in a particular sense, of destruction.
Wagner built enormous edifices, both figuratively in The Ring of the
Nibelungen and literally in his Festival Theater in Bayreuth. Wagner
wrote the libretti as well as the music to all of his operas, and in
addition-almo st as an avocation-he published a greater volume
of prose than Nietzsche did in his lifetime, designed to revolution­
ize everything connected with his art, from composing to conduct-
ing.
Wagner was a genius whose creative ambitions were matched
only by the great sacrifices that he expected from his followers. The
women in his life were to provide motherly attention and sympa­
thy for his troubles, real and imagined. He treated his two wives,
Minna and Cosima, rather callously, but he required absolute devo­
tion (and nluch patience) from them; their attentions formed an
emotional matrix prerequisite to his creative life but not, in
' /Cosima's case at least, directly involved in it. From the younger
married women he loved-Jessie Laussot, Mathilde von
Wesendonck, andJudith Mendes-Gautier, for example-he appar­
ently desired solace and admiration more than sex, although he
was by no means averse to that. He sometimes needed the anguish
9f being in love-particularly, it seems, the impossible love for a
'married woman-to sustain his creativity.
Wagner expected the young men in his life to provide more
tangible signs of their devotion. They represen,ted the sons he had
not been given by Minna. They might be royal patrons like Ludwig
II of Bavaria, great conductors and singers like Hans von Bulow
and Ludwig Schnorr von Carolsfeld, or writers like Nietzsche; but
Wagner treated them all as his tools and sometimes worse. The pre­
miere of Tristan and Isolde in Munich in June 1 865 is exemplary.
Ludwig of Bavaria was paying for the production in spite of enor-
1 20 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

mous opposition from his middle-class subjects, even as W

and Cosima blatantly lied to him by denying that they were
an affair. Hans von Bulow was conducting the performance, hav
studied the score to the point where he knew it better than W agner
although von Bulow's wife hadjust borne Wagner a child in Ap ril�
The tenor Ludwig Schnorr, who was already ill, poured so mu ch
energy into the part of Tristan that he actually died a few days afte�
the production, from an illness exacerbated by exhau stion.
Wagner was bewitching to many creative young men, not ju st to
Nietzsche. But he was also an extremely egocentric and deman ding
man, who would exact the last bit of energy from his disciple s and
never hesitate to exploit their weaknesses.
Nietzsche strained eagerly to please Wagner for years, from
1 869 until the decline of their friendship in 1 876. Wagner nee
surrogate sons like Nietzsche to help him realize his grandiose aes­
thetic ambitions; but Nietzsche needed a father to help him orga­
nize his creative energies. Wagner became the model genius to
Nietzsche, as Schopenhauer had been before him, creating
music and writing his autobiography before Nietzsche's very eyes.
At a deep and probably unconscious level, Nietzsche was studying
Wagner as a model of creativity. It might have been a very frus
ing and even deadly situation for Nietzsche: attempting to learn
be creative by emulating an irascible father who wanted to preemp
his son's creative energies for his own purposes. But this seems to
have been just the psychological frustration that Nietzsche needed
to overcome in order to discover himself as a creative individual.
The oedipal aspect of Nietzsche's relationship to Wagner
made complete by Cosima. His prudish sensibilities were at first
offended by the Wagner-Cosima affair. The fact that Cosima w
Wagner's mistress was still being concealed in 1 869 in deference to
the sensibilities of King Ludwig II of Bavaria. For five years, out
idealism and admiration for Wagner's music and person, Lud
had managed to believe the couple's lies about their relationship;
but it was widely known that Cosima had already borne two
Wagner's children (Isolde in April 1 865, and Eva in February
1 867). It would have been impossible for Nietzsche to mistake the
situation. When he first visited Triebschen, Cosima was quite preg.
nant with the third of Wagner's children, the boy who would be
born on June 6, 1 869, and named Siegfried.3] If that was not
enough, there were Wagner's coarse jokes, which frequeQtly in­
volved Cosima.
 Emulating Geniuses 121

It i s difficult to imagine circum stances more likely to bring

surface: on the
Nietzsche's oedipa l feelings about Wagner to the
rapt idealiz ation of a man pre-
ne hand, Nietzsche's spontaneous,
and Lu ?�ig
� isely old enough to be h � s father (Richa
rd Wagne r
Wagner S In­
Nietzsche were both born In 1 8 1 3); and on the other,
illicit affair with the young
volvement at that very momen t in an
s. And Wagne r did his best to inten­
wife of anothe r of his disciple
� r Siegfri ed was born, �e
sify and exploit these feelings when, aft
go�father and see to hIS
suggested that Nietzsche become the boy �
2 he was not un­
education after Wagner would be gone:� NIetzsc
Cosima might become his as well.
aware of the implication that
Cosima has a rather interesting life story of her own. Born in
Liszt and
1 83 7, the second of three illegitimate children of Franz
parents .
Marie d'Agoult , Cosima was raised apart from both of her
Both her mother and her father's later mistres s, the Princes s von
Wittgenstei n, had literary ambitio ns that they seem to have passed
of
on to Cosima. All the photographs of Cosima make her seem one
A
the homelies t of women , but she was generally admire d by men.
tall, dignified , and somewh at reserve d woman , she seems to have
had a certain authority in social situatio ns. Cosima was undoub t­
edly a strong and capable person herself. But her ambitio n, per­
hap s because of a sense of inadequacy stemmi ng from her
illegitimacy and emotio nally deprived childho od, was to discover
• and foster the genius of a great man.
As it happen ed, Cosima looked for her men in her father's field
of music. She was in part still seeking the love of her neglectful par­
ent. First she chose Hans von Bulow, who was a ,devotee of the
mu sic of both Liszt and Wagner; but Biilow was a d epresse d and
self-doubting man, and although a great conductor, he proved to
be an inadequate composer-he was a perform er but not a creator.
When this became apparent, Cosima too became unhappy. How
could she promote the career of a man who did not believe in him­
!self? So she fixed upon her husban d's hero, Richard Wagner. She
seems to have considered Wagner as an alternative to her husban d
even at the time she first met him, when she visited Zurich with
Hans in 1 857 during their honeym oon. But the two only gradually
became acquainted, with Cosima the more reticen t of the two, ap­
e parently aware of the instabil ity of Wagner's emotio nal alle­
gia nces.
Cosima became Wagner's mistress in 1 863, after waiting nearly
six years for his interest to awaken and develop . She planned to
1 22 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

have not just an affair with Wagner, but to be his permanent

indispensable companion. Yet she did not insist upon marriage.
Since it would have revealed the truth about her affair with Wagn er
to Ludwig II, and thus have endangered the king's patronage C

Wagner, she did not find it convenient to divorce Bulow until 1870;
Even before she moved in to live permanently with Wagner in
Triebschen in 1868, Cosima had made herself the composer' s sec­
retary, agent, and general manager. And after they began to live
together she managed the household as well. Wagner did not stray
from her bed until 1 876, when he had a brief but very emotional
affair withJudith Mendes-Gautier at the first Bayreuth festival. And
although Judith proved to be an enduring erotic fantasy for
Wagner, and the prime stimulus of his work on Parsifal, Cosim a re;
mained the indispensable emotional stay in Wagner' s life. Cosi
was almost pathologically devoted to Wagner, serving him and liv
ing vicariously through him. She was as peculiar in her devotion
he was in his need for it. But both of them were happier, b
reconciled to the world, and more productive as a result of
marriage.33
Because of his own immense admiration of Wagner, N ietzs
immediately found himself in a partnership with Cosima to help
Wagner finish The Ring and to further the cause of Wagner's music
generally. When Nietzsche first met her in Triebschen in 1 869,
was already slavishly devoted to Wagner. In her letters to Wagner'
disciples, including Nietzsche, she referred to him as "the master,"
and never let it appear that there could be friendship with her ex­
cept it be based upon devotion to Wagner.34 Cosima did all
could to enhance Nietzsche's sacrifices. She was the one to
mundane demands upon his time (but perhaps only because
was in charge of the mundane side of the Wagnerian househol
and she participated energetically in Wagner's effort to
Nietzsche relate his scholarly essays to Wagner's work; she even un
dertook to tell him how to revise them.
Nietzsche gradually became very attached to Cosima. He 1
wrote that he found Cosima to be the most charming woman he:
had met in his life.35 His admiration was deep, genuine, and 1 0
lasting, although not apparently sexual, at least not consciously so
His family romance with Cosima was restricted to loyalty and
tured sympathy whenever Wagner mistreated her. Even later, when
the Wagners had moved to, Bayreuth and Nietzsche had to rely
solely upon Cosima's letters for communication from Wagner, his
 Emulating Geniuses 1 23

creative fig­
principal interest remained focused upon the magical,
the remarkabl e document of 1 888, the
ure of Wagner himself. Even
as "Ariadne" and
love note that Nietzsche addressed to Cosima with
his rivalry
signed "Dionysos ," may be more an artifact of
Wagner than of genuinely amorous desire for Cosima.
Each of the three individuals involved in this family romance
n.
derived something different from their association in Triebsche
Cosima had always wanted to be the supportive wife of a genius,
and he r desire was finally realized. Now she could finally devote
herself wholly to the man she worshipp ed. Wagner had finallywo n
Cosima to his side. She gave him his son Siegfried and served him
. as secre tary and amanuens is as well. When Nietzsche appeared,
Wagner gained a capable friend who would come to visit and ex­
change ideas whenever Wagner needed company or stimulation .
· For Wagner this was a time of intense creativity and relative seclu­
sion after the tempestuous time in Munich. He still needed atten­
tion, of course, but in Triebschen he found that the ministratio ns
of these two extraordinarily devoted people made up for the adula­
tion of his fans. For whatever else they did to serve him, Cosima
and Nietzsche mirrored Wagner's grandiose sense of himself and
his works.
For Nietzsche, however, the Triebschen period was hardly an
idyll . Rather, it was an extremely strenuous period of testing him­
self against Wagner's requirements of him. He would write his first
book amid frequent visits to Triebsche n and in constant anxiety
about whether his work would please Wagner. For Nietzsche this
was a time of aspiration, vulnerability, and testing. �� trying as this
was for him, it was non.etheles s constructive. Nietzscne-w as under­
going an apprentice ship to a genius, a rite of passage toward his
own creativity. It made his later work possible.
The psychological relationship among the three is revealed
with greater clarity in what they accomplished in the Triebschen
iyears. Cosima had begun her voluminou s Tagebiicher or Diaries on
January 1 , 1 869. This was a private text, not intended for publica­
tion in her lifetime. It was to be a documentation, for posterity, of
the life of Wagner. In it she recorded her observation s of the
master's activities, who his visitors were, what he said in conversa­
tion, what he read and what he had to say about it; she recorded the
weather, Wagner's moods, and even his diet. With her Tagebiicher
Cosima was performin g a peculiar labor of love, an intellectual ver­
sion of "a woman's work.,,36 Cosima was also writing down
 1 24 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Wagner's autobiography, Mein Leben-"My Life"-as he spoke

aloud to her.37 Cosima's role in both of these projects was limi ted
that of curator of Wagner's image.
For his part, Wagner was at last working on the final act of
opera Siegfried, after a hiatus of ten years during which he had
ten Tristan and Isolde and The Meistersinger. For this olympian
he needed nothing so much as isolation. However, in the first yea
that Nietzsche knew him in Triebschen, Wagner was also prepari
his centennial essay on Beethoven.38 And, for that proj
Wagner's conversations with the young professor who had rea
Schopenhauer so carefully were very useful. Nietzsche's contribu
tions were taken without acknowledgment too. Wagner exper
enced his disciples as extensions of himself and expected them t
serve him willingly, and without need of thanks or recognition .
Wagner's third project of that year was Mein Leben, the autob
ography he was dictating to Cosima. Wagner assumed that visi
to Triebschen would be entertained by hearing him read excerp
aloud from his autobiography-in-process. In Nietzsche's case
was no miscalculation, but Wagner could not resist the temp
to make Nietzsche part of the enterprise too. He began " ,Q T' rt . ..

him segments of the manuscript to proofread and see through

printer's office in Basel. Nietzsche did this willingly at first, p
haps even avidly, although it cost him valuable time away from
own work. After a while, however, perhaps in conversation or in
letter that has been lost, he let Wagner know that this was becom '
a burden.39 For, as Nietzsche wrote to his former pro�
Friedrich Ritschl, there was really only one thing that he lacked
Basel: time for his own writing.40
In addition to his courses, Nietzsche had prepared several 0
inal public lectures on ancient Greek topics that he hoped woul
be of broad interest to educated people. These lectures were in
spired by his preoccupation with Schopenhauer and Wagner; in·
deed they were his attempt to realize a kind of philosoph '
writing about the ancient Greeks, as an alternative to the profe
sional philological writing that he had already come to detest i
Leipzig. It was an ambition he had conceived before ever encoun
tering Wagner. But having submitted to Wagner's psychological au
thority, he was extremely dependent upon the composer
judgment.
Wagner at first objected to the form of the essays, arguing tha
they were too scholarly. He thought that Nietzsche was deferring t
 . . �mulating Geniuses 1 25

i academic public, and restraining himself from drawin g conclu­

to a�
SIOn s relevant to contem porary proble. ms, namely the difficulties
facing Wagner's own stimul art.41 In . the main, however, Wagner fo� nd
N ietzsche's ideas so ating that he was forced to rethin k
Schopenhauer under the influence of Nietzscthe he's mo �e tho�oug�
philoso pher. He used new Ideas. In hIS
understandin g of theBeethoven.42 In spite 0f being
•
' th e senIor part-
ar centennial essay on withou � an intelle ctual debt
ner in the ir dialogue, Wagner was not r he knew It or not, was already
to N ietzsche. And Nietzsche, whethe
ad' in a po sition to influence the creativ e impuls es of one of the most
u­ self-willed geniuses of the ninete In en.th century. . . of
ri­ It was not until two years later, 1 872, after the pubhcation
to The Birth of Tragedy, that Wagne r briefly
granted Nietzsche the rec­
o gnition he so deeply desired.43 Wag�;� praised the bo? k ���rav�­
bi gaudy and told Nietzsche that he . was nght next to CosIm a In hIS
the
heart. This is what Nietzsche had desIred from way than he and first.
pts No SQ oner had Wagner blessed him in this
Cosima moved far away from Basel to Bayreuth, wheretime Nietzs che
o l
" c u d visit them only very infrequ ently. From that their
.... � '
friendship began to decline. But the years 1 869-7 2 had been cru­
cial for Nietzsche. Living in closest association with geniusr,. Wagne
Nietzsche learned to measure himself against an authentic che
.Their a,gonistic relatio nship was the matrix in which Nietzsdis-
n . wrote his first book. In his struggle to please Wagner, Nietzsche
covered his own creativity and learned many of the psychological
characteristics of genius : audacity, narcis sism, and single- minde d­
ness. Eventually he would be able to practice these virtues of ge­
nius. His relationship with Wagner was therefore immen sely
. beneficial to him;' more so, ultimately, than it was to Wagne r.
ld It is striking, however, that neither Nietzsche nor Wagner had a
n� very/realistic appraisal of the other at this time. Each was a phan­
n· tasm for the other. Nietzsche's Wagner was a benevo lent father who
eventually disapp ointed him by being extremely egotistical.
es­ Wagner's Nietzsche was a loyal and obedie nt son who turned out to
in be a rebellious thinker who eventually went his own way. Each was
n� pursuing a psychological necessity that overrode the nicetie s of
u­ friendship and precluded true intimacy.
r'/s
at ,
to
 SE VEN

First Works
•

Y 1870. Nietzsche had already proven himself a scholar. But

B on.ly. wIth the rublication of The Birth f Tragedy Out f the Spirit .
o o
o f f\1uszc In 1 87 � dId he emerge as a brilli ant writer and
thInk�r. The Bzrth of Tragedy was a dramatic departureauda cious
from the
norm In Greek studi es. The author refused to study the past
own sake, as all philologists were supposed to do. Instead for he
its
at�
temp t� d to c orrect on his own age by comparing it to a cruci al mo­
ment In ancIe . nt Greek
cultural history. Nietzsche' s
there!ore a complete and comprehensive repudiatiofirst book was
n of the rever­
.
ent hlstor� cal culture of his time. The author was only twenty-six.
The Bzrth of
maIn . s a son: ewhaTrage dy had several preli minary versi ons and re�
t disjointed book. It began as a series of essays on
a constellatIon of cultural questions that Nietzsche conn
t:agedy, and it developed slowly, out of a painful struggleected with
tIce to � chopenhauer, Wagner, and his own original ideas. jus­ to do
For
s? me wnters, such confl icts among i ntellectual and personal loyal:
tIes �ardly anse . , and in later
years they woul d not afflic
But In 1 870 and 1871, �hen Nietzsche wrote this bookt, Nietz he
sche.
simp ly
.
could not dIsentangle Ideas from personalities. The exam ples of
Sch ��enhauer and Wagner ha? � nspired him and sharpened his
am? Itlon. These two men-theIr Ideas and writings, and above all
theIr personal courage in oppo sing the hackneyed optim ism of the
l Cl C
 First Works 1 27

nineteenth century-represented the very essence of intellectual

cre ath;ity to Nietzsche. Anything he might have written at this time
wo ul d have been permeated with them.
The Birth of Tragedy had its beginnings in two lectures that
N ietzsche gave in Basel during the first few weeks of 1 870, on
"Greek Music-Drama" and "Socrates and Tragedy}n Manuscripts
of those lectures show that, from the first, Nietzsche wanted to
write about "the Greek spirit," and certainly not about a narrowly
conceived or professionally defined philological topic. Tragedy
was already the focus of his interest. Socrates was already the vil­
lain. And Nietzsche was already drawing the connection between
ancient tragedy, Schopenhauer's philosophy, and Wagner's op­
eras. This was more than merely infusing "philosophical serious­
ness" into his otherwise unexceptionable philological work, as
he had wanted to do since Leipzig. In tragedy, he was taking on a
project that no classical philologist of his day would have dared
to treat as a whole. Finally, he was violating all the canons of his­
toricism by relating Attic tragedy to modern German culture, using
Schopenhauer and Wagner as his principal points of reference.
Nietzsche wrote to Rohde that his lecture on Socrates had "in­
cited terror and incomprehension" in his audience in Basel. No
one in Basel expected Socrates to be portrayed as the villain of
Western Civilization. But the lectures were probably not written
with the Basel public in mind. Nietzsche had at least one eye on an
audience in Triebschen, where Cosima was reading his lectures
aloud to Wagner. The master approved so enthusiastically that
Nietzsche wrote in the same letter to Rohde that the lectures had
strengthened his ties with his Triebschen friends, iheWagners.2
Wagner began to urge Nietzsche to pursue his ideas on tragedy
in a book.3 He encouraged Nietzsche both because Nietzsche's lec­
tures were very much in his own interest, and because he intuitively
appreciated that Nietzsche was now thinking creatively, and not
just as a professional philologist. He was sufficiently impressed
with Nietzsche's understanding of Schopenhauer and his thinking
about Greek tragedy to use Nietzsche's ideas in his own writings.4
Wagner advised Nietzsche "not to touch on such incredible views
in short essays, but to concentrate on a larger and more compre­
hensive work on this subject." And a few days later he urged
Nietzsche in another letter that he must "now . . . show what philol­
ogy is for, and help me bring about the grand 'renaissance."'5
Wagner encouraged Nietzsche to think ambitiously and to join
1 28 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

him as a partner in his crusade against modern culture as he under.

st.ood it. And, without imagining that this would be a partnership
of equals, Nietzsche was very flattered. It was, therefore, particu.
larly with Wagner's encouragement that Nietzsche decided to write
a book about tragedy and everything else that preoccupied him at
this time.
One thing that hampered Nietzsche in carrying out this design
was that he still regarded Wagner's music-dramas as a theoretical
enigma. He was not sure how to apply Schopenhauer's aesthetic in
which music was defined as the most metaphysical of the arts : to
Wagner's work.6 Wagner might have been an enigma to anyone in
1 870. He had definitely outgrown his theory, expressed in OPera
and Drama (1 85 1 ), that the poetry and drama of his operas were of
equal importance with the music. That verbose justification of the
Gesamtkunstwerk (total work of art) did not even apply to Tristan and
Isolde (1 859), in which he had ruthlessly subordinated lyrics to
music. And now Wagner was trying to come up with a new theory
that would explain his more recent compositions, and yet not ap­
pear to contradict his earlier theory. Rereading Schopenhauer and
discussing aesthetics with Nietzsche led to his anniversary essay on
Beethoven (1 870). This, while not nearly so prolix, was perhaps more
confused than Opera and Drama. So Nietzsche had to make his own
sense of Wagner's work ifhe was to treat Greek tragedy in a Wagne.'
rian manner. 7 It was a delicate task, since Nietzsche might easily
'
appear to be lecturing Wagner on his own creations.
One consequence is that Nietzsche guarded his thoughts on
music and modern culture from Wagner. He was much quicker to
show his friends in Triebschen his lectures dealing with ancient
Greece. In the summer of 1 870, Nietzsche wrote another essay con· !
soli dating his views and organizing them for the first time in the ,
rubric of forces that he began to call the "Apollonian" and
"Dionysian." This lecture, entitled "The Dionysian WeltanschalJ'
ung," was divided into four parts; only the fourth dealt directly
with music.8 Significantly, when Nietzsche sent the essay to Cosima
as a Christmas present at the end of the year, he sent only the first .
three parts, thus shielding his developing ideas on music from the
Wagners.9
Nietzsche's secrecy may seem cowardly. And it is surprising in
view of Nietzsche's lifelong passion for honesty about the most
painful insights. His behavior can nonetheless be understood
within the context of his discipleship to Schopenhauer and
 First Works 1 29

Wagner, which was the psychological matrix of his eme.rgi � g cre­

rsors to susta in his con­
tiv ity. He was still relying upon these precu
� d ence and lend their authority to his
accep
writ
t
ing. He had. no� quit�
. own creative
his Intelh ­
r ched the point wher e he could
: �ce as a self-sufficient authority. He did notnotyethave been able tolf
think of himse
� s a .geniu s. And, more practically, he migh
incur red Wagn
t
er's well-k nown wrath
write his book at all if he had
before he fin ish ed it. ve pow-
But while Nietzsche was not yet confident of his creati
ers he had all the seminal ideas for The
Birth of Tragedy by the time
he ieft Basel for his brief involvemen t in the Franc
o-Pru ssian War
-Dram a," "Socrates
1'n Augus t 1 870. His
essays on "The Greek Music
uung , " an d "Th e B lrt' h
and Tragedy," "The Dionysian Weltanscha er had
of the Tragic Idea" were all realiz
ed. And in February Wagn
r than more essays .
already encouraged him to write a book rathe
By the summer of 1 870, however, he still did not have an outlin e
shatte red healt h
for one. It was the exper ience of war and his own
abou� tra?edy.
that gave Nietzsche the final impetus to start on a book
This is noteworthy becau se the heroic status of the genIu s IS ap­
overcome in
parently enhan ced in propo rtion to the adversity
ology of the ge­
order to create. This, of cours e, is part of the myth thing
nius. But close observation of a geniu s often reveals some
pro­
more interesting still: adversity adds urgency to the creative
the acute sense of morta lity
cess . In Nietzsche's case in particular,
Franc o-Pru ssian War
that he gained from his participation in the
stimu lated his creative ambit ion and provoked him to get to work
immediately on what would be his first book .
Nietzsche started work on The Birth of Tragedy as s'oo n as he re­
ed
turned to Basel for his military convalescen ce. Initially he plann
the book to cover what eventually becam e the first fiftee n sectio ns
­
or chapters-the portio n that deals with Attic tragedy and Socra
.
tes, and only indirectly and by implication with the modern world
This plan had an obvio us advantage: it would have made it unne c­
essary for Niet�sche to engage in a direc t discu ssion of Wa�ner' s
music. But even these first fifteen sections went through a senes of
versions that betray indec ision and elaborate cautio n on
Nietzsche's part.lO
As a consequence of this curio us textual history, The Birth of
Tragedy falls readily into two parts. The partition is obviously due
to the guarded manner in which Nietzsche wrote it. And it had the
effect of perm itting Nietzsche to do justice to his own insigh t with-
 l �O YOU NG NIETZSCHE

out offe ndin g his mentor. But in the proc Nietzsch

an uneven and awkwardly structured book. ess Spe cific
e produ ce
ally, the last te
chapters have often been characterized as an unfortun ate and ev�
.
embarrasslng addendum to an otherwise remarkably orig
The first part of The Birth of Tragedy readily con form inal book.
wh
? ne expected of a book in 187 1 . These fifteen chapters cans to
Independently. They constitute an inge nious and fully be a�
re
gume � t about the h istory o� ancient Greek tragedy, its coh er e n t ar
. . .
the spln t of DIonysIan musIC, and its death at the hand birt h ou to
.
.
ratIona1 Ism.
·
of So
The first part even contains a perfectly understan tIe cr a
�
implicit critique of the nineteenth century. There is a com dabl
these fifteen chapters that seems to justify the wish of man plet en ess t
tators on this book: that Nietzsche had stopped there. y com men.
��e last ten chapters are less easily characterized. A vari
exp lIcItly con t�mporary con cerns predomi nate ety of
:
nancy of the nIneteenth century, and the poss ible rena the cult ural stag.
tragedy in German phil osophy and in Wagner's mus issan ce of
ten chapters are less coherent than the first fifteen, and ic. The se las t
gant. Nonetheless, they mark an imp ortant hard ly ele�
velopmen �. �hey constitute his first foraystepinto in Nie tzsche' s de.
con tem porary
cultural cntI. CIsm. And the fact that he had related his
ject to contemporary prob lem s was precisely what mosanc ient sub.
about his book. Nie tzsche's incl usio n of him self in the t elated him �
of the book constituted an innovation of an order diffsecond pa t
any of his original ideas about the Greeks. In these two eren t from
last ten c?apters are a better sign of Nietzsche's late respects the
the fi:st fIfteen. He had made a transition not only from r writing than
to phIl osophy, but from scholarship to a unique genr phil ology
graphically generated cultural criti cism . e of autobio� .
At �he beginni ng of �he Birth of Tragedy Nie tzsche reco
two pnn CIpl . es of perc gnizes
eption and representation: the Apo llinian
and the Dionysian. And he baldly states that "the con tinu
opm ent of art is bound up with [this] duality- ous devel.
just as pro �
d�pen ds upo n the duality of the sexes, involving perp creati n
WIth only periodically intervening reco ncil iatio ns." etual strife
th.e two prin cipl es, of course, after the Greek god 12 He named
Dl onysos, who he calls "the two art deities of the Gres Apo llo and
eks. " And it
� ay seem quit e corr ect for a classical phil ologist to interpre t an�
CIen t Gre ek tragedy in ancient Gre ek aesthetic term
Nie tzsche these categories-Apo llini an and Dionysian-s. But for
stricted to Greek art or even to art. Instead, he asserts are not re�
that they are
 First Works 131

ed n iversal aesthetic or perceptual principles evident in nature,

� ven without the mediation of the human artist."13 This is
;iettury,
en .
�. zsChe's first fundamental departure from the historicism of his
II which recognized no such universals.
cen
a�
The contents of Nietzsche's two categories, furthermore, far
tr scend the ancient Greeks' understanding of the two gods. In
a n
r. Nietzsche's hand, Apollo and Dionysos are symbols for two system·
tically opposed sets of characteristics devised by Nietzsche him·
:
of
e e l f. The Apollonian is the principle of clearly deli�eate � imag� s,
.
ermanence, optimism, individuation, and ratIonahty. It IS a stnv­
� i ng for clarity, especially the visual clar�ty of for� and outline, ?ut
clarity in every other sense as well. NIetzsche hkens Ap �l � onla�
.
�
erception to the visual distinctness of dreams, and he afflhates It
f ith the arts of sculpture, painting, and narrative poetry. The
. Dionysian, on the other hand, he associates with music, e �pecially
f melody. It is the principle of flux, impermanence, suffenng, and
t pessimism. Passage of time is basic to the Dionysian, w� ich. ca�
only be depicted in (shapeless) temporal metaphors. NegatIng IndI·
viduation, the Dionysian entails feelings of empathy and even
identity with the other. Most importantly, it is an irrational force,
impulsive, wild, and instinctive. So while Nietzsche affiliates
Schopenhauer's concept of the "idea" or "representation" with
Apollo, he associates Dionysos with the " �ill." : 4 .
According to Nietzsche, the ApollonIan VISIon of the world IS.
responsible for the constant formulation and reformulation �f the
forms of knowledge and rationality that order our everyday hfe. It
also serves to conceal the underlying Dionysian reality from us.
Knowledge and rationality may vary from epoch t6-egoch and cuI·
ture to culture. But cu l ture itself is predicated upon the Apollon·
ian mode of perception. Without its simplifying influence,
organized life would be impossible. Nonetheless, the knowledge
that results from the Apollonian perception is ultimately illusory­
a necessary illusion, but illusion nonetheless.
Dionysian perception, on the other hand, is momentary, excep­
tional, and counter·intuitive. It is dangerous to any structure of ra­
tionality. It contains the death wish and every other destruct.ive
instinct as well as the life instinct. It is the maelstrom of every Im­
pulse caught in the flux of time, the enemy of all that is fixed and
ordered. Dionysian perception yields a terrifying understanding of
existence that humankind does well to conceal from itself in every­
day life. Yet, since all is governed by time, coming into existence
 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

and pass ing away, the Dio nys �an is the mor
modes �f perceptI. on. A�cord lng to Nietzsche e,prof the
ound of the ' two
only .be Ignored at the pnce of cultural sterility and Dio nysi an can
ultimately, ex
.tInc tIon . For whe eas '
� t�e �pollon ian view of things is the bas is o
knowledge, the DIo nYSIan IS the font ofw isdo m.15
.SionPart I of The Birth oJ Tragedy repudiates the historic ist co
. Its. own term mpu
to study the past In s. Dev ising his own terms a dl
con cepts of �nalysis to reevaluate Socrates, tragedy, ratio
and so on, NIetzsche began a unique phil osop hica l proj
nalis '
ect.
:
however, was not merely a courageous move perm ittin g This
much that was new about anci ent Greek art and thought. him to sa;
. .
a �evere cntlque �f h'IS own education and professio n. Wri It wa s al so
Bzrth oj Tra�edy, N Ietz� che crossed a spir itual and intellect tin g The
con to set hImself agaInst all his teachers and muc h of the ual Ru b i.
of Western thought. trad i ti on
Just prio r to pub lication, Nietzsche acknowledged
Birth oj Tragedy would probably offe nd the that Th
. g, " he phil olog ists. "I avee
b� en very d ann wrote to Rohde, caut ioni ng even his hbes t
fnend a�out the last part. He must have known that
.
would rUIn hIS career in scholarship and mak his life in the bo ok
difficult. But it had long been his desire to distaence
��
Basel ve
1 o1 o� as It was b eln
. . professio him self from p I
' � prac
. atIng hIm �ICed
' by hIS nal colle ague s. And his
anXIety over alIen self from his profession was largely bal.
anced by the pleasure that he now anticipated from Wag
p �oval . On the eve of the pub licat ion of The ner's ap.
Birt
hIm self was more enthusiastic about Wagner and his mus edy, he h oj Trag
b�fore-more inclined than ever to see himself as Wagner' ic than ever
�Ietzsche was Insu . lated
from the disapproval of professional philolo.
s diSciple.
�IStS and the world at large by his almost exclusive interest in the reac�
tlon of his master. This insulation seems to have permitted
to ?epart much more radically from the conv Nietzsche
phIlology than he otherwise might have done. enti ons of professional
N.ietzsche's emerging original ity was of a novel type. He
. thIn . ker by becam
an ong tnal writing a critique of the tendencies in his owne
age, education, and experience that (he
eclipse his own creativity. These tendenciesbeli eved) threatened to
redu in Nietzsche's
mind to science, scholarship, and specialization-sced ome very general
tend�ncle . s Inde
. ed.
Taken together, Nietzsche thought that they
constItu �ed a c� ltural disease affli ctin g the
course, SInce NIetzsche had been trained as anine teenth century. Of
was natural for him to disp lace the cultural tendsica clas l phil ologist it
enci es that stuiti .
 First Works 1 33

.
o fied him in 1 87 1 into the ancient context of his academic studies,
n and to attack them there. But it is noteworthy that Nietzsche did
x· ' not simply veer away from philology to write Wagnerian music or
or Schopenhauerian philosophy. He created out of his insight into
what fettered him personally. The Birth oj Tragedy is a reflexive
l. work, largely a reflection upon Nietzsche's own experience.
d Consequently, The Birth of Tragedy is not a typical work of nine­
' teenth-century genius. It is a dissection and critique, not a discur­
sive revelation of a new world such as we usually find in the poetry,
; fiction, music, painting, and even the systematic philosophy of the
o century. Nietzsche was content to know that he had written a philo­
e sophical book. He did not think that he had written a work of ge­
nius. Indeed he would have acknowledged that his book was
in tended to assist another who was one of the classic geniuses of
the century: to anchor the plausibility of Wagner's project in a new
understanding of Greek tragedy. So, logically enough, even as the
author of The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche did not recognize himself
as a genius. However, it is precisely this book that first convinces us
that he was a genius.
The problem is that what Nietzsche was doing was original in a
yet unrecognizable way. Innovation is only "original" if it is recog­
nized by others and understood as a new departure that other sim­
ilar efforts can follow. Before that could happen, Nietzsche would
have to admit to himself that he had begun something new and
build upon it himself. Then, with other writings, he would have to
teach his readers to see that it was a new departure as well.
Unbeknownst even to himself, Nietzsche was becoming a differ­
ent type of genius. His achievement was to be one·of �riticism, un­
masking, deconstruction, demolition, and nihilism. As an attack
upon Socratism ancient and modern, The Birth of Tragedy's is
Nietzsche's first salvo in a lifelong assault upon complacent ratio­
nality and the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake. This is reo
, flected in the style and logic of the book. It is not spontaneous, as
one might expect of a naive genius, but closely argued and highly
self-conscious. Nor is it a work of novelty; rather it is critical and
paradoxical, making the modern cult of rationality and knowledge
seem undirected and pointless. Deflating the most prized achieve­
ments of its time, it is a work of provocation, setting a precedent for
a style of creativity that would become characteristic of modernism
after the turn of the century. But since Nietzsche himself had been
initiated into the academic culture of knowledge for its own sake, it
 YOUN G NIETZSCHE

is also a work of self-overco ming, a quality that he later toute

one 0fh'IS most sal lent. Analyzing and sloughing offh is own e du a
d
.
'
. Ca
tIon, NIetzsche wrote reflexively in The Birth of Tragedy,
and i t be
came one of the first works of senti mental geniu s.
Nietzsche referred to his study of ancie nt tragedy (in
fiftee n cha� ters of the boo�) as "an elaborate historical the first
. exampl e
valuable pnmanly because It permitted him to illum inate the pr ,"
'
ent. 16 The h Iston' �al l � sson t�at NIetzsche drew from that port es
.

the book was qUIte sImple: If we want to revitalize our cultu io n of

re w
k cult� r e
shou ld cons ider what sapped the vitality of ancie nt Gree
H is history of Attic tragedy indicated that ')ust as tragedy
wIth.
the evanescence of the spiri t of musi c, it is only from this sh �
peri
spirit
:
that I. � can be reborn."17 Resuscitating the spirit of musi
c, givin g a
new hfe to tragedy and thus revitalizing modern cultu
re-thi s is
what interested Nietzsche, much more than the history
of Attic
tragedy itself.
Nietzsche's prom otion of the rebirth of tragedy poin ts
o� sly to Wagner and his geniu s: it was from Wagner's obvi ­
musi c th at
NIetzsche hoped a new age of tragedy might develop. But
the sec­
ond part of the book also refers to Nietzsche's own creat
ive aCco m�
plishment. Nietzsche had assigned hims elf a role in the rena
o� tragedy-one quite different from Wagner's creat
issan ce
ive role.
NIetzsche is fundamentally a critic here. As the author
of The Birth
layers of
of. Tra�edy, he is situated in the present, cutting through
hlstoncal knowledge to reveal the tragic philo sophy. He
puts him­
self forward as an intellectual rather than as an artist.
But in
later portion of the book he is a novel sort of critic and intel the
lectual ;
who reveals hims elf in perso n, discu ssing hims elf as the
promoter
of a tragic interpretation of modern history:

It may be well to disclo se the origin of this insigh

t [into the declin e of
ancie nt tragedy] by consi derin g the analo
gous phen omen a of our
own time; we must enter into the midst of those
struggles, which .': .
are being waged in the highe st spheres of
our conte mporary world
between insati able optim istic know ledge and
the tragic need of art. l s

This passage serves not only to shift the reader's attention

from the
historical to the contemporary world, but to advance Nietz
sche's
contentio � that th � past is always studied for conte mpor
ary rea.
sons. And In refernng to the origins of his insight, Nietzsche
subtly
draws our attention to hims elf as author. He provokes
us to ask,
 First Works 1 35

as "Who is this man, and how did he discover this?" Implicitly he an­
a- sw ers that he had learned all of this from his own personal strug-
e- les at the nexus of art and science or scholarsh Ip.'
c . . .
g Nie tzsche's discoverie s in this book (and all of hIS later wntIngs)
st were indeed the results of introspection-exca vations of his own
experie nce. But the autobiographical dImensIon 0f. N. letzsc
. . ' he ' s
" . I ater
- · king is less obvious in The Birth of Tragedy than It. IS In .
th In
f rks . Nietzsche was not yet ready openly to declare hlmse If an In-

e
�� lectual hero, or to render himself as the primary subject of his
writing. Furthermore, the prominen ce of Wagner obscures the
� rn any autobiographical comments that he does make.. Nonetheles s,.
' an d It
t the autobiographical theme of Nietzsche' s discourse IS b aSIc,
a prefigures his mature style of thinking. . .
s In The Birth of Tragedy Nietzsche charactenzes hImself as the
heir of Schopenhauer and Wagner, but in � aying d� f�ren�e �o
them, he says nothing that would diminish hIS own onglnahty In
writing The Birth of Tragedy. In fact, Nietzsche makes a grand sum­
mary claim for himself:

Having recognized this extraordinary contrast [between the Apollon­

ian and D ionysian] I felt a strong need to appro �ch the essence � f
Greek tragedy and, with it, the profoundes t revelatIOn of the HellenIc
genius; for at last I thought that I possessed a charm to enable m �-:- far
beyond the phraseology of our usual aesthetics- to represent VIVIdly
to my mind the fundamenta l problem of tragedy; whereb� I was
granted such a surprising and unusual in � ight into t e HellenIc . cha�.
�
acter that it necessarily seemed to me as If our classIcal·He llenic SCI­
ence that bears itself so proudly had thus far contr�ved to subsist
mainly on shadow plays and externaI s. ,,19

These are the words of a creative person so delighted-and not a

little surprised at what he has accomplished-that he is impelle� to
remark upon it. He employs no false modesty, but no exaggeratIo n
either.
Presented with the rudiments of a solution to a fundamental
problem of aesthetics in the works of Schope.nha� er, Wagne:r' and
others Nietzsche had solved that p roblem wIth hIS elaboratIon of
the A � ollonian/Dionysian opposition . Armed with th�s under·
standing, he was drawn to tragedy, and thus to the aesthetIc core of
Greek culture and character. He solved the riddle of tragedy that
had remained obscure to all practitioners of the current aesthetics.
 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

And in solving that riddle, he gained such insight

character that the whole science of philology paledintoby
the Hellenic
comp arison.
Certainly Nietzsche was claiming a degree of origi nalit
hims elf. And while he was honoring Schopenhauer and Wag y for
acknowledging that they were his forerunners, he was also crea ner by
a genealogy of genius for hims elf. He did not men tion- as Wa ting
might have preferred-that he had attended Schu lpforta, thatgner
had studied with Friedrich Ritschl in Leipzig, or in any other he
place himself in the tradition of philo logical research. Rathe way
chose to rank himself in an order of creators: Scho penhar, he
Wagner, Nietzsche. Far from dimi nishi ng his creativity, this quieuer,
initiated a story of Nietzsche as a geniu s. tly
Nietzsche 's men tioni ng the discoveries that led him to write T
Birth of Tragedy was an unusual step for an author he
to take in 18 70
I
t
Friedrich Ritschl got the impressio n that Nietzsche was suffer .
from megalomania. (This was only the first of many such accuing
tions .) But for Nietzsche this autobiographical com men tary sa·
perfectly consequential. Having determined as a stud ent that was
ary history is necessarily written from contemp orary motives, liter·
was only appropriate for him to acknowledge the contemp ora it
situation that made this particular book necessary-the conflict ry
tween the imperial ambitions of science and scholarship and the be·
for tragic art. He had experienced this in the most excruciatinglyneed per· '
sonal way. So that including himself in his analysis as a representative
of art, a follower of Schopenhauer and Wagner, was logical.
In effect Nietzsche inscribed his claims to origi
book that he put forward as original.20 He did not,nalit how
y in the very
to have made novel interpretations of particular trageever dies,
, claim
have contributed to philo logical meth od, although he mightorwell to
have done so. Rather, he made a series of other claims that revea '
l
a
him to be the philo sopher of art, of the tragic sense of life, and of
Dionysian world view.
In the last ten chapters of The Birth of Tragedy zsche makes
the following claims: (1) That he had explained theNiet mean
chorus in Greek tragedy as it had never before been expling aine
of the
d. (2)
That he had for the first time inferred the origi ns of myth in musi
(3) That he had expl aine d the reac tion of the c.
audience to tragedy
for the first time. (4) That he had shown the work of tragedy to
be aesthetic play, not ethical purgation. (5) Thating
strated the sterility of philo logy and historicism ashethey had demon·
were cur·
rently practiced. And finally, (6) that he had shown that the world
 First Works 1 37

1
I.. tself was only to beJ' ustified aesthetically. These
. the claims to original·
. 0f
'
�: :a
nge from particular achievements In lnterpretatIon
ti tragedy to one of the most general philosophical statements
imaginable. . . ?f
Nietzsche not only gave the first explanation of the onglns
tragedy in the Dionysian chorus and the meaning . of the . chorus In
classical tragedy; he also explained the cathartic expenenc � th at
�� h audience has in a tragedy on the basis of his understandlng of
chorus.21 His understanding ?f the tragi� chorus led fu:ther.
m to his first major philosophlcal concluslon: ex�ressed In th�
ore
famous dictum that the world was only to be .JustIfied aesthetl'
�
lly 22 Here Nietzsche made a strictly philosophlcal advance upon
�h�penhauer. For Schopenhauer had understood .the will to be
the basic metaphysical reality-not some realm of ldeal or fixed
reality, but the chaotic surgings of will that reduced the phenome·
naI world to the status of mere appearance. Anyone who . .under·
tood this as Schopenhauer did necessarily became a pesslmlst-an
�ethical pessimist," as Schopenhauer termed hi� self. B:u t
Nietzsche did not acquiesce in Schopenhauer's preachlng of reslg·
nation and the denial of the will.
Philosophically, Nietzsche began with Sc�openhaue�, s conVlC' .
tion about the metaphysical reality of the wtll and the lm �erm�·
nence of all. But through his understanding of the audlence s
identification with the chorus and the Dionysian comfort p�o·
duced by it, he showed that the Greeks (�nd a�y other people wl.th
a tragic sense of life) could adm� t the Dl onys? an nature of reahty
and yet be cheerful and vital. Thls essentIa . �ly ln ted the sense of
��= .
Schopenhauer's philosophy. Instead ofreslgn.at� on, Nletzsche pro·
motes a heroic cheerfulness and exuberant wtlhng. Hence the glo·
rious achievements of the Greeks. This, for Nietzsche, was an even
more important result than the specifically philological results of
his study of tragedy. ' ofTragedy,
. The Bzrth
By contrast with his own accomplishment In
Nietzsche thought that recent generations of Germans had learned
little from the Greeks. After acknowledging the noble .efforts �f
Goethe, Schiller, and Winckelmann, he indic�tes that Slnce then
time the attempt has become "incomprehenslb�y f�ebler and fee·
bler., ,23 As a result, even serious people were lnchn�d to doubt
whether anyone could advance beyond what the classlcal German
writers had accomplished. And those who make their living from
classical studies-the professors of philology-"have learned best
 � JO YOUNG NIETZSCHE

to come to terms with the Greeks easily and in good time, often by
�keptically abando ning the Helleni c ideal and comple tely pervert_
Ing the true purpose of antiquarian studies ."24 Here Nietzs
vents his spleen upon his profession, effectively disavowi ng chhies
membership in it:
Whoever in these circles has not complet ely exhausted himself
in his
endeavor to be a dependa ble corrector of old texts or a linguist
ic m i.
croscop ist who apes natural history is probabl y trying to assim
ilate
Greek �ntiquity 'historic ally,' along with other antiquiti es, at any
rate
accordIn g to the method and with the supercil ious airs of our pre
sen t
cultured historiography.25

�ith the phrase, "assimilating Greek antiquity 'historically, ' ,)

NIetzsche alluded to the historic ist dictum that the past must be
understood in its own terms, withou t referen ce to the present. Ob
viously Nietzsche felt contem pt for contem porary philological at­­
tempts to appreciate ancient Greek culture.
But Goethe and Schiller had not fully understood the Greeks
either. In fact, Nietzsche argues that not even the Greeks them­
selves had understood tragedy concep tually. As if to make his claim
to originality as f�rcefully as possible, immed iately upon stating
that he had explaIned the chorus of tragedy for the first time, he'
declares: "We must admit that the meanin g of the tragic myth set
forth above never became clear in transparent concep ts to the
Greek poets, not to speak of the Greek philosophers."26 Socrates
and Plato had waged war against tragedy, while Aristotle had mis.
understood it. And the tragedians, while they understood their
metier implici tly, could not have explained its theory. So Nietzsche
had not only surpassed the contem ptible philologists of the nine.
teenth century, he had explained something that neither the great
German writers nor the ancient Greeks themselves had understood.
. Clearly
thInker
, Nietzsche thought of himself as a philoso pher an'd
as he wrote The Birth of Tragedy. He did not imagine himself
a tragedian or an artist. That was the role of Wagner, whom he com­
pared to Aeschylus. But another figure appears in the second part
of the book, as if to illuminate Nietzsche's self-con ception : the mu-
. I S ocrates. 27 N Ietzsche
sIca ' hoped that Wagner's music dramas
would usher in a new era of tragedy and tragic awaren ess, but an"
era that would be essentially differe nt from the period of Hellenic
history in which Attic tragedy flourished. The rebirth of tragedy
 First Works 1 39

would only come as a result of the realization that scien�e had failedge. in
. claim to solve all problems and master the world WIth knowled
� eri this realization dawned there would arise "a new form of culture
h we would have to use the symbol of the �usic-prac�icing Soc­
' for whic
,, 8
rates. 2 What would distinguish this modern tragIc culture IS a degree
of self-consciousness unknown to the ancient Greeks.
The new Socrates would be a very different philosoph er from
Trag­
the one indicated by Nietzsche in the first part of The Birth ofwhom
edy. The original, according to Nietzsche � , as the man in

I
" the faith in the explicabi lity of nature and In knowledge as a pan-
cea" had first come to light. But the music-practicing Socrates
: ou ld necessarily have recognized the error of this faith and have
turned to art-and not to just any art but to the Dionysian art of
mu sic. Presumably, he would not take up musical compositi on as
his metier-no more than Nietzsche had renounced writing about
the Greeks when he disavowed historicism and the credo of profes­
sional philology. Rather, the music-practicing Socrates would phi-
losophize as a Dionysian man infected with the spirit of music. \
Nietzsche does not explicitly claim this role of musical Socrates
for himself. But it is not difficult to see, and has often been noticed,
that Nietzsche 's allusions to the emergence of an "artistic Socrates"
and a "music·practicing Socrates" are references to himself.29 What �
has not been noticed, apparently, is that this is an important clue to
Nietzsche 's identity as a thinker and a writer�Dion��!�;:,p..!I1!.Q'§' ,\
opher is a Socrate � W�h£!s.s.een,Q�X:�.��,,§,2�E��,£!, !!!,.:.T1iIS. I S the role V
.

thar:l'rrerzS'"c1le�prays in The Birth of Tragedy. Only In thIS persona

could Nietzsche explain the meaning of the chorus and the tragic
myth. He raises what the Greeks understood intuitiv.ely to such a
level of self·consciousness that it becomes the basis of a philosophy.
Nietzsche was Socratic in his reasoned rejection of knowledge
as the panacea. He developed this stance until it beca�e � char�c.
teristic style of thought. His later works are more sophlstIcat� d In
style and more ingenious in argument. But they are not at varIance
with Nietzsche' s initial philosophical conclusion s. Thus the autho­
rial identity that Nietzsche would develop in his later books is that
of the music-practicing·Socrates. For Nietzsche would ever be a
Dionysian philosopher: not an artist, but a self·consci ous and re­
flexive philosopher who subordinated science to artistic insight.
,t

Nietzsche had sent the first copies of The Birth of Tragedy to

Triebschen with a humble letter inJanuary 1 872. He regretted the
1 40 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

degree to which he had occupied Wagner's attention during the

preparation of the book, and only hoped that he had correctly in­
terpreted what Wagner had said to him.30 This was no feigned def­
erence or false modesty. It seems rather that Nietzsche w as
suffering from the letdown that often follows the successful com­
pletion of a major creative project-metaphorically called post­
partum depression. And since Wagner's creative force was still
what oriented Nietzsche's, he still needed Wagner's approval. Bu t if
Nietzsche momentarily feared that Wagner would be less than en­
thusiastic about his book, he was quite wrong.
When Wagner first received his copy of The Birth of Tragedy, he
read it feverishly. He burst into praise. Wagner did not often praise
the creations of others; in fact, merely to have other people's cre­
ations brought to his attention usually irritated him. But this book
was something altogether different from the futile efforts of some
of his admirers and even the more disturbing works of obvious ri�
vals. Naturally, Wagner was immensely gnitified by the role h� had
been assigned in the book: the German Aeschylus. The narcissistic
satisfaction he took in this is characteristic, and quite evident in his
first hasty note to Nietzsche, penned on January 5 just after receiv�
ing the advanced-copy: "A more beautiful book I have never readl
Everything is wonderful!. . . . To Cosima I said, you come right after
her, and after that no one else until Lenbach, who has just painted
a fascinating picture of me!"3 1 In effect, all three-Cosima,
Nietzsche, and Franz Lenbach, the painter from Munich-had
been painting pictures of Wagner: Cosima in her transcription of
the autobiography, Mein Leben, Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy, and
Lenbach in his portrait. Wagner was almost childlike in the narcis­
sistic pleasure he took in such attentions; he loved to have talented
people literally depict him to himself.
Wagner's initial reaction raised Nietzsche's spirits somewhat.
In a letter to his friend Gersdorff, Nietzsche quoted happily from
Wagner's note and said that some of it was so moving that he could
not repeat it.32 What he could not repeat, apparently, was the
thought that he had been given the place next to Cosima in
Wagner' s heart. But that was not all the praise that Nietzsche would
get from Wagner, because narcissistic gratification was not all that
Wagner would get from reading Nietzsche's book.
After reading it once quickly, Wagner and Cosima read The
Birth of Tragedy again-separately in the morning, and aloud to
each other in the evening. The composer was no less pleased by
 First Works 141

As one o f Wagner's biographers

th is much more careful reading.
ed at Trieb schen , and Wagner
ha s written, "Great enth usiasm reign or's affec tion in a way that
OW retur ned the talen
ted young auth
� ent beyond mere self-i nterest. He was happy, he said, to have
, , So, less than a week after his first ec­
lived to read the book . 33 again on Janu ary 1 0,
tatic note, Wag ner wrote to Nietz sche
� ore thoughtful ly and at greater length. It is a
most symp athet ic
letter.34 tion to
Apparently Nietzsche was ill and had decli ned an invita t the
enth usias m abou
visi t Triebschen in the first flush of Wagner's
afflic ted him since his
book. It was a recurrence of whatever had he was worr ied
military duty in France. Wagner in his letter said
t his state of mind . He
abou t Nietzsche's healt h, but even more abou
dic bouts of depressio n
and Cosim a had noticed Nietzsche' s perio
saw that, now that The
over his profe ssion al pred icam ent. And they
Birth of Tragedy had appeared, Nietzsche seem
ed even more desp on­
"Frie nd! Wha t I
dent. He wanted Nietzsche to get himself together.
reass uran ce." And at the
say is not to be waved off with a laughing
end of the letter:

How I would like to dispel your ill humor. But how should I begin?
Would my boundless praise suffice? I doubt it, and that depresses me
too. Nonetheless, I can do no other than give you my boundless
praise. Please accept it as a friend, even if it does not suffice!35

of what
This was Wagner at his very best: firm abou t the seriousne ss
plete ly
he perceives to be Nietzsche' s perio dic depressio iis, bl:lt co�
be the most senSI tIve and
supportive of his frien d. In fact, this may
empathic mom ent in all of Wagner's corre spon denc e.
in The
Wagner focused directly upon the creativity that he saw
. Birth of Tragedy, as if to make sure that Nietzsche unde
rstoo d his
mere ly an ackn owled gmen t
praise of the book correctly: it was not
the book , but a rec­
of the important place he himself occu pied in
his con­
ognition of Nietzsche' s own geniu s. After first describing
cern abou t Nietzsche, he remarks with pretended surpr ise:
comp arison whatever.
And now you publi sh this work, which has no
upon you is reduc ed
Every influe nce that anyone migh t have had
your book from all
pract ically to nothi ng: what most distin gu ishes
profo und origin ality re-
other s is the perfect certa inty with which a
veals itself in it.36
 142 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Wagner was the first to assert Nietzsche's originality, sugges ti

n
that Nietzsche too was a genius . And he did so at precise ly the ti
m
when Nietzsc he's major professor, Friedrich Ritsch l, was sugg
ing, also for the first time, that Nietzsche was crazy. Nietzsche esm
hi
self was quite unable to think of himsel f as a genius , althoug
hh
had become aware of his creativity. It required Wagner, who w
as a
recognized genius , to name Nietzsche one.
Wagner attempted to legitimate the originality of The Bir Of
Tragedy to the author himself-to help him admit his own creathtiv
powers to himself. Surely this is empathy. To this end he went on e
his letter to show Nietzsche that he had learned from The Birth in Of
Tragedy too. This, from a man who understood and advertised hi m
self as a genius-which Wagner certainly did-was the ultim
ate
compl iment. Only another genius can influen ce a gen iu
s
Nietzsche's essays and conversation had indeed influen ced Wagn
er
in his writing of Beethoven (18 7 0) and The Destiny of Opera (187 );
1
and now Wagner acknowledged the influen ce of Nietzs che's boo
k
on his music . Reading The Birth of Traged,y, Wagner wrote, gave him
such a charge of enthusiasm for his own work that he had resum
ed
compo sition on the last act of Siegfried. He read in it after breakfast
in order to get into the right spirit for compo sition.
Cosima, curiou sly enoug h, was not so quick to praise N ietzsch� .
Perhaps she was a little jealou s of Wagner's first wave of enthus
i.
asm for Nietzsche, but her attitude too soon gave way to fervid
praise . When she finally wrote about the book in a letter to
Nietzsche on January 18, it was quite unlike her usual chatty reo
ports on doings at Triebschen.37 Echoi ng Wagner's own promo tion
of Nietzs che to the rank of genius , she first noted that Nietzsche
"had exorcised spirits in this book that I thought only obeyed our
master [WagnerJ."38 Comin g from Cosim a, this was almos t more reo
markable praise than Wagner's own. Cosim a had often treated
Nietzsche as a Wagnerian lackey; but now he was sudde nly compa.
rable to " the master."
The most interesting passage of Cosim a's letter contai ns an
idea that she had undoubtedly discussed with Wagner:
I have read your work as piece of literature, repres enting
the most
profou nd proble ms . And I cannot separate myself from
the book any
more than the master can, because it gives me answer to
all the uncon,
scious questio ns of my soul. You can imagin e how your
mentio n of
Tristan and Isolde affected me: I have experi enced the annihi
latio,n
 FiTst WOTks 1 43

ng through music and the salvation through drama-just as you describe

me it�more powerfully in this work than in any other, b ut I have never
.
st_ been able explain [my own reaction] . �o you have clarified for me the
,
m­ most powerful impression of my life:�J
'
e
a, Perhaps unwittingly, the Wagners were indicating that
Nietzsche was not only a genius : but a g� nius of a particul.ar type:
Of
the "poetic Socrates" intimated In The Bzrth of Tragedy by NIetzsche
· seIf. He understood and explicated the works 0 f artists l'k 1 e
.
e h IID
n Wagner (and Aeschylus), who c :eated ,:ithout fully understan. d'Ing
Of
the impli cations of their creatIons. NIetzsche had made clear to
m. Co sima, Wagner's consort (and perhaps to Wagner as .w�ll), �he
e steries of Wagner's art. This was not inaccurate. But It Imphed
s. :: even larger powers of insight and unmasking that, with mu.ch
r greater hindsight, we now know constituted Nietzsche's �reat gI�t.
; Thus Cosima's characterization of Nietzsche resembles Nlet�sche s
k own first approximation of the distinction betwe � n the naIve . ge­
m nius-here exemplified by Wagner-and the sentimental genIUS,
d Nietzsche. But in the early months of 1 8 7 1 , this may have seemed
t like faint praise to Nietzsche, who in his dour mood must now have
thought that to be a Socrates of any sort was to be damned. .
. Had Nietzsche been ready for their praise, and had he not sull
. n eeded Wagner as a fatherly protector and guaranto : of the valu.e
d of his own originality, he might hav� struck out o.n hIS own a� thIS
point. He might have left the university to make hIS wa� as an Ind � ­
pendent writer. And the painfully unfriendly receptI ? n that hIS
book received among philologists might have affect �? �l1 m less. But
he was still dependent upon Wagner. And he was neither sure of
his originality nor ready to contemplate leaving his posi �ion at the
university. So he' remained very vulnerable to the reaction of the
philological community.
Wlt� almost � nanlmous
. . .
The Birth of Tragedy was in fact receIved
hostility by academic philologists. The book was I�tend�d In part �s a
provocation of the historicist ideology of the phIlol?g�cal estabhs� .
mente Nevertheless, Nietzsche was hurt by the pubhc sIlence of phI'
lologists, by the adverse reaction of Friedrich �it� chl, .and by an
outrageously venomous attack leveled against hIm In pr� nt.
Ritschl had received a complimentary copy of The Bzrth 0fTra�­
edy directly from the publisher. Upon perusing it, he wrote In hIS
diary that it was "an inspired waste of energy."4() But he did not reo
.
spond to the book until Nietzsche wrote hIm a cunous letter on
1 44 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

January 30 requestin� his opinion. Begin� ing in a rather indig_

nant, formal tone, NIetzsche expressed hIS "astonishment" that
Ritschl had not written him at least a note. He declared that his
b.ook demanded anything but silence, that it was a "manifesto" de-
sIgne� to b�eathe new hope into the discipline of philology. Bu t
then In closIng he returned to the familiar tone that had been com­
m.on bet�een them, assuring his professor that he knew that Ritschl
w �shed hIm well. It seems an almost schizophrenic letter, in which
NIetzsche first arrogantly asserts his dignity as a creative au thor
and then returns to the humble role of student. Again Ritschl mad�
a note in his diary: "Amazing letter from Nietzsche-megalom a_
nia."
This is the first time that anyone made this suggestion ab ou t
Nietzsche. And it is significant that it came in conjunction with
N.iet�sche's first genuinely original work. In the popular mind ge­
nIUS IS next to madness; and between them Ritschl and Wagner ex­
p�essed b? th ter� s of this adage. Ritschrwas of course reacting to
NIetzsche s self-Importance, something that must have seemed
completely inappropriate in a classical philologist. The scholar was
supposed to efface himself in his effort to represent the past as it
had act� ally been. And here was Ritschl's own student audaciou sly
suggestIng that he could renew the whole profession with one very
speculative book.
Ritschl responded to Nietzscne nonetheless, and his letter was
admirably forthright. He wrote that he could not give a detailed
opinion of �ietzsche's book, inasmuch as he felt himself incompe­
tent for the Job. He was too old to change his basic orientation to
life and scholarship. He was fully committed to the historicist
� ode of tho.ught, and he could never find salvation in a philosoph­
�cal system lIke Schopenhauer's. As a historicist, he could not imag­
Ine what the "suicide" of tragedy might mean. Nor could he see
how the progressive individuation of Western man was an unfortu­
nate development. He clearly recognized himself in the "Alexan,
drian man" that Nietzsche satirized in The Birth of Tragedy, and
noted that Nietzsche could hardly expect such people to trade in
their rational knowledge for phantasies of salvation to be found in
contemporary art; that is, in Wagner's operas. In all these remarks
Ritschl openly stated his disagreements with Nietzsche, but added
that they were based upon a cursory review of the book. At his age
he had not the time nor the energy to delve into Schopenhauer's
philosophy, which seemed to be prerequisite to a fuller under-
 First Works 1 45

_ standing of The Birth of Tragedy.y, And he humbly confessed his in­

t abiIity to appreciate philo soph even in his youth.
s' Ritschl objected finally to Nietz sche' s hope, expressed in his let-
-, ter, to provide a new basis for the education of philo l �gists. Wou�d
ot the great mass of young people se find nothI ng more In
t
­ � ietzsche' s views than an excuse to despi more scien ce (Wissenschaft)?
than he advances
l Does he not really encou rage dilettantism an old pedagogue, he
h th e cause of art? These are the doub ts of
states , that do not relegate him to the status of a mere "master of
note cards ." It was Ritschl's turn to beamenangry. And while the aging
professor went on to close with a few ities, �t is c�ear that this
was his final judgm ent: Nietzsche had betra yed hIS calhng, not only
t as a philologist, but as an educator in the tradi tion of West ern ra-
tionalism. nt, had
Ritschl had to admi t that Nietzsche, his prize studeted judg­
turned out to be a subversive. This is a more soph istica
niac. But Ritsc hl's two
ment than simply labeling him a megaloma upon the tradition
views are really one: for him, Nietzsche' s attackntia. Nor is Ritsc hl's
of Western rationalism was a species of deme of Tragedy incom­
asse ssment of the Nietzsche who wrote The Birth geniu s. That
patible with Wagner's recognition of him as aNietzsche' s de-
Nietzsche was a subversive is recognized today by
tractors and disci ples alike.
Nietzsche may have hoped for a frien dlier reactionws from
Ritschl, but he never supposed that he would get good revie w, from how­
other philo logists. He did want at least one friendly revie
ever. So before the book even appeared he sugge�ted to Rohded his frien
Rohde that he write a review, an "elevated advertisem ent." jour­
was anxious to help, but his first attempt was rejected byt.the His sec­
nal for which it 'was inten ded, the Literarische Centr alblat
a
ond appeared in the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung only Gersdorff, few days
before he received word from Nietzsche' S other frien d, g philo lo­
of an extensive attack upon The Birth of Tragedy by a youn orffs
gist in Berli n. This was Ulric h von Wilamowitz-Moellend e).43
booklet entitled Zukunjtsphilologie (The Philology of the Futurorff,
Rohde now felt obliged to reply to Wilamowitz-Moellend To
which he did in the form of an open letter to Richard Wagner.44 he dis­
this Wagner added an open letter to Nietzsche in which
cussed the lamentable state of the German philologic al profes­d
sion.45 Finally, Wilamowitz-Moellendorff added a seconall
installment to his Philology of the Future. These publications
 1 "*0
YOUNG NIETZSCHE

brought Nietzsche a degree of inte llec tual

notoriety, but na
enough they did him more harm than goo
d in the world of ph
ogy. Non etheless they dem ons trate-
if any dem ons tratio n
n� cessary how radi ally inc om pat
:- � . ible the orig ina li ty
NIe tzsche s boo k was wIth hIS scholarly profess ion in 187 2.
Ulrich von Wilamowitz-M oell end orff
tocrat who had defied his fam ily to bec you n
p h'l1 0I OgI' St, an arIs. was an am biti ous
scholar. He too had studied at Schulpfort ome
. a. He had bee n there dUr
Ing N �' etzsc he ' s last years and so the two
were at leas t sup erfi ciaU
acquaInted. He was as wel � trai�ed as
on to a truly great career In phI lOlogy.
Nietzsche, and he would g �
In fact, by hist oric is t stan
d�rd � , he would bec om e the greatest phi
lolo
wIth Innumerable pub lica tion s to his cred gist of his generatio n
author began somewhat disreputably
it. But his career as a
with this inte mp erate and
�
very personal a ttack upo n Nie tzsche and
of hIS. twenty-eIg .
ht page essay is taken up with ma lici
f
The Birth o Tragedy_ Mo s
com me ntin g upo n the many errors of ous satire
fact and interpretation tha�
he professed to find in the boo k. But
, fun
cused Nietzsche of betraying the creed damentally, he too ac­
of historic ism , the belief
that the cultural creations of the past
should be stud ied in their
own terms, unc ontaminated by contem
porary interests. And he
called upo n Nietzsche to resign his pro
fess orsh ip in Bas el: it was
frau dul ent of him to masquerade as a pra
ctit ion er of the science of
phi lolo gy.
It was easy for Rohde to show that Wil
made many errors of his own in the cou amo witz -Mo elle ndorff
rse of his diatribe. An d any.
one cou ld see that the pam phl et was
in very bad taste. But
Wilamowitz-Moellendorffs bas ic the
sis, that Nie tzsc he had
betrayed the creed of historic ism , was exa
ctly what Ritschl had said
in his letter. Nie tzsche him self said as
much in his letter to Ritschl
when he ann oun ced that the book was
a "ma nifesto. " In fact, he
had renounced historic ism whi le he was
still a stud ent in Leipzig;
After readi �g Sch ope nhauer, but before
he ever met Wagner, he
had recognIzed that every hum an activity
�
ests of t e actors. And he began then
�bservatlon of hIm . to
is info rme d by the inter­
app ly this insight to his
self and his fell ow phi lologists. Now he
lIshed a book that flaunted his contem had pub­
porary con cerns and called
upon the authority of several nin etee nth
-cen tury gen iuses to settle
anc ien t Greek issu es.46
One profess or of phi lology declared
.
lIsh that anyone who pub­
ed such a boo k was profess ionally dea
d. And in fact, one of the
 First Works 1 47

consequences of the negative reception.

f
of The Birth o Tragedy was
suddenly found hImself bereft of students,. over-
�� a N ietzsche
01 g he had become so notorious that students of philology were
t
47 To say the I east, N letzsc
' .
warned to stay away from Basel.
. . . .
he was In
.
a delicate position profeSSIonally, In spIte of �IS .r�cent promo.tl0n
ng to. te nured professor. He might be seen as a lIablhty at the U nlver-
. . . c
a Slty 0f Basel . His application to exchange hIS POSItIon as. prolessor
r� f hilology for one in philosophy had already been rejected. And
U
� �& i out the backing ofRitschl, he would find it difficult to make his
way as a philologist anywhere else.
n­ Nietzsche was more depressed than encouraged by the pu hca­
. of his book and the reactions to it. Even Wagner's enthUSIasm
.
�
�
n Uon
wa S not sufficient to neutralize the negative reactIon 0 f the . ph 1' l 0. I -
.
d ogists. Nonetheless, Nietzsche offered to aban?on the unIVerSIty
d dedicate his whole energy to the WagnerIan cause. It was a
:;
st
e mptom of Nietzsche's desperation, and Wagner was suitably hor­
� rified. He rejected the idea out of hand. Wagner had ne;er been
­ averse to the sacrifices of his other disciples, but he reahzed that
f Nietzsche needed to pursue his own development. There was al �o
r self-interest in his reaction. He knew the prestige of a professor In
e Germany well enough, and he wanted to have one in his ca� p even

f
if he was notorious among his colleagues. He felt that N Ietzsc e
would be of more use to him right where he was, as professor In
�
Basel.48 So there was never any question of Nietzsche accompany­
ing the Wagners when they left Triebschen in the e arly S prin� of
. .
1872. He would stay behind in Basel and his professIonal IsolatIon
would be exacerbated by loneliness.
<

.
·
.
The Wagners moved to Bayreuth only a few weeks after he
f
, publication of The Birth o Tragedy. For Wa�ner: of course, mOVIng
�
.
.
to Bayreuth meant opening the final campaI?n In hIS war to refo� m
German culture. Triebschen had been a delIghtful and productIve
. interlude. Still supported by the Bavarian King, Ludwig II, he had
worked as well as he ever had, finishing Die Meistersinger and many
f
other projects and advancing The Ring o the Nibelungen decisively.
He had won Cosima and started his family there. Generally speak­
ing, in the Triebschen years ( 1 866-72) Wagner had recouped his
forces for the final struggle against the operatic world.
For Nietzsche, however, Triebschen had been a time and a
place where he often had Wagner' s exclusive attention. I � Bat
reuth Nietzsche would be one of many disciples, and many In thIS
crowd were no more than sycophants. For Bayreuth was not to be a
 1 48 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

refuge but the social center of the Wagnerian move ment, an

Festspielhaus and Wagner's home Wahnfried were to be
d
the
monu ments.
to which all Wagnerians woul d make regular pilgrimag
Nietzsche was boun d to be disap pointed and even disgu e; So
sted o n
those few occas ions when he actually visite d Bayreuth.
Wagner's move marked the begin ning of the end of Nietz
sche' s
Wagnerian perio d. At the time this was not apparent to
either of
them. When the cornerstone of the Festival Theater was cerem
ously laid in May of 1872, Nietzsche was invited to Bayre oni.
turned out to be a dismal, rainy day, but Nietzsche had the th. It
u
h
of ridin g in the first carriage, right besid e Wagner as they rolleonor
the hill to the solem n dedicatory cerem ony. This marked the d up
of their friend ship. ap ex
. .

Imm ediately after publ ishin g The Birth of Tragedy, Nietz

sche
launched a series of publi c lectures in Basel "On the Fu ture
of Ou r
Educational Institution s," in which he attacked the allege
dly sad
state of German education .49 He intended to reveal the prob
lems
the Gymnasium in particular by recou nting a fictio naliz ed narra of
t
of his own adole scent experienc e. But when he held the first i,ve
ture on January 16, the staid citize ns of Basel must have been lee.
ap.
palle d. The autobiographical elem ent was thinly veiled
embarrassingly melodramatic. Attendance drop ped off and.
after the
first lecture. And yet Nietzsche went on in February and
March to�
give four more of the six lectures he had plann ed, each
more teo
dious than the last. He never delivered the sixth.50
The lectures turned out to be an exposition of the naive or
roo
mantic ideology of the geniu s. The basic ideas are spok
en by an
aged geniu s·phi losopher to a younger comp anion , but overh
eard
by two ideal istic students, who learn that their own educ ation
at th�
Gymnasium had been debased. The philo soph er strongly
resembles
Scho penhauer in his world·view, but his critique of the Gymn
asium
is very much that of Richard Wagner. The students are Nietz
sche
and a comp anion . What the students overhear is a disco urse
on the
boundary between the genius and non·genius . They are a conse
rva.
tive and even defen sive reassertion of the naive theory of
the ge.
nius against the claim s of popu lar education .
The old philo sopher's fundamental comp laint is that "the
rights of the geniu s" have been demo cratized in the nin,et
eenth
century.51 He chastises his comp anion and former pupi l for
fancy.
ing hims elf an indep ende nt thinker. Teac hing at a Gymnasium
, the
 First Works 1 49

e you n ger man ought to have recognized his true mission in sifting
. .
., the mas ses of individuals in the school, se�rchI ng f�r genlus. I n·
. .
stead of that he had withdrawn from teachIng, ImagInIng that he
h·1m self might become creatIve lIke hIS master, th e p h'l
. . .
1 osopher.
. .
Th is, according to the philosopher, was a sIgn o f t h e tImes: every·
.
one was cultivating their imagination and hopIng to find that they
toO had been born to create. The consequences were an expanded .
edu cational system, a vulgar tolerance lor In d"IVI d ua l'Ity, an. d a tern·
C •

ble lack of intellectual discipline-altogether a superfi1Cla1 , "Jour· .

1 . ic"
naI'st culture. The humanistic Gymnasium had been expanded,
democratized, and debased by nineteenth-century matenal Ism, •' th e
u til ita rian values of productivity, commerce, and profit. ; he
Gymnasium's original goals had been betray� d and abandoned. 5
The Gymnasium remained the centerpIece of German educa­
tion, nevertheless, and suffered no loss of pr� s�ige. It w�s much
more important than the university in determInIng what It meant
to be an educated person in nineteenth-century Germany. The cul­
tural elite of that society was distinguished from the rest of the P? P­
ulation primarily by their Gymnasial education. If the Gymnaszum
had been corrupted, then the contention that true culture or
Bildung had fallen into neglect followed logically.53
.
Bismarck's Germany was not notably democratIc, and the Gym­
nasium was no more democratic than society at large. By more re­
cent standards the school was authoritarian in its organization and
antidemocratic in its educational content. It has even been alleged
that the humanistic Gymnasial education, based on the study of
. Greek, failed to prepare Germans for democracy;,-54 I t" �as th e very
archetype of an elite school. Conservativ�s saw the Gymna;,zum as � bas·
.
tion of the social order. Yet Nietzsche, In the VOIce of the phIloso·
pher," attacked the Gymnasium for being altoge�her too democratic.
This was a genuinely reactionary view, whIch suggested that an­
other grave danger lurked behind this "democratic" e?u � ational
system, a danger that threatened its middle·class bene� clanes most
particularly: the working classes might get the same I�ea: nam�ly
.
that "education is merely a means to matenal prospenty, , and In­
sist upon the same rights as the middle classes. They might demand
universal education and even access to the Gymnaszum.55 .
.

It would have been tactless to defame the Gymnasium in any city

in Germany, but it was especially so in Basel, where the quality of
.
education was being maintained at great sacrifice, now. that the CIty
.
had been shorn of its hinterland and much of Its tax base.56 A nd In '
1 50 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

fact the citizens of Basel could be as proud as any in Germany of

the quality of education that they were providing to the you th of
their city. Yet Professor Nietz�che seemed determined to discre d'1t
it with his lectures.57
If Nietzsche had to attack the Gymnasium, one might have ex­
pected him to focus upon the specialization and preprofess io nal.
ism t�at h�d crept into the ?ymnasium in the nineteenth cen tlJ ry, .
especIally In the field of phIlology. That was a topic that he had
already addressed in his correspondence and journals, and o ne
that would continue to concern him throughout his life. And it Was
a critique that contemporaries like Jacob Burckhardt could appre­
ciate. But what Nietzsche decried even more energetically was the
latitude supposedly being given to personal development, individ.
uality, and originality. This was an attack that hardly anyone bu t a
thoroughly tyrannical artist like Wagner could appreciate, some.
one who-as Nietzsche would soon recognize-could acknowle dge
no other individuality but his own. Among. the middle class of the
nineteenth century, individuality was very widely subscribed to in­
deed; it was perhaps the central myth (in the creative sense of the
word) of the century; and a twenty-eight year old professor was un­
likely to shake many people's faith in its reality or importance. Nev­
ertheless, Nietzsche insisted that individuality was the exclusive
prerogative of the genius and not to be propagated at school.
An educated bourgeois himself, even Nietzsche cherished the
ideal of individuality and personal development. He had imbibe d ·
it at every stage of his education: from his father, in the Pinder and
Krug homes, and especially during his years at the Gymnasium.
Nietzsche, like Winckelmann and a host of other German students
of the ancient Greeks, saw the goal of education in the develop­
ment of a "whole" or autonomously creative individual. He ad­
mired its realization in his mentors, Schopenhauer and Wagner.
And even as he suppressed his individuality in his devotion to his
masters, he cherished the ideal. He had aspired to become a cre.
ative individual since before he wrote his first autobiographic
sketch at the age of fourteen. The only thing that distinguished
Nietzsche's view of individuality in these lectures was that he now
emphasized that only an infinitesimal minority of any generation
is capable and worthy of such development. Most of his contempo- (
raries thought that individuality was something that ought to em­
bellish the careers of as many young middle-class males as possible.
It is of course easier to appreciate the attitude of Nietzsche' s ;)
 First Works 151

s somewhat compl acent, than the atti­

cO n temporaries, even i f i t i m may well
de of Nietzsche himse lf. The quality of indivi dualis
: ve b een diluted in the process of its popul arizati on, as
a power ful secula trend
Nietzsche
nonethe-
urges one to believe. But it was �
able,
less. The cultiva tion
of the self had becom e possIb le, afford
people . Nietzsche realiz_e d that
a d desirable for more and more
: e whole compl ex of values associated with indivi
duality was his­
a
�� rical product of the increa singly domin ant positio
of repud iatin
n of the mid­
� the wh� le
d e class in modern society. But instead
had grown up WIth the mId­
idea of self-co nsciou s individuality that simply reverted. to
dle class in the previous century and a half, he
y, that only the genIus
the most selective understanding of it, namel
enoug h of them.
is a true individual, and there are few
Nor was this a self-serving move. Every evidence suggests that
as he wrote
Nietzsche excluded himse lf from the category of genius g his
ssed and even thinki ng of quittin
these lectures. He was depre
profe ssorship in order to devote all his energ ies to the Wa ? �afi
ner
d hIS phIlo­
cause. This was the moment when Nietzsche had burne
of Music,
logical bridge s with The Birth of Tragedy Out of the Spirit
and when Wagn er moved to Bayre uth
when Ritschl disown ed him,
was now more than ever
leaving Nietzsche alone in B�sel. Nietzsche
dependent upon his image of Wagner as his mentor and master. So
Wagner, and not he himself, was the solitary genius Nietzsche had
in mind; Wagner's individuality (and Schop enhau er's) was what
Nietzsche sought to exalt. Both men had become disillu sioned with
democracy and conceived a hatr�d for "publi c opinio n."
Follow ing Wagner, Nietzsche regarded journ alism as a symp­
tom of the popular enthu siasm for the self and individuality. It was
a product of the middle class for the middle class, and the purport­
edly low quality ofjourn alistic writin g was a produ ct of t�e dem�c ­
ratized Gymnasium. The Gymnasium no longer prepa red ItS pupIls
for culture or even scholarship, but only forjourn alism.58 The word
journalism appears on nearly every page of the lectures "On the
Future of Our Educational Institu tions," always dripp ing with dis­
dain, as ifjourn alism were an affron t to public �oral s. Public opin­
ion, as integral a part of popul ar sovereignty as journ alism, is
similarly scorned. But disdai n for journ alism and public opinio n
was hardly an original attitude in the Secon d Reich. It was a shibbo ­
leth of reactionaries, employed to denigrate any "unqu alified"
opinion, especially liberal views on politic s and public life in the
new Germany.
1 52 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

. By journalism,
. fromNietzsche understands a variety of literarY
cnmes rangIng t h e use
. of unquahfied �f supposedly barbarous neologisms
to the expressIon opinions on cultural matte
Here is one of the greatest experimenters with the German I an:
guage, a writer who playfully created new words and expression s
throughout his life, carping fastidiously about neologisms. As [,
u.nquaIified �pinions, that is just what Nietzsche's fellow Philol � �
?IStS we�e .saYIng about The Birth of Tragedy. His own book was called
Jou �nahstIc more than once by traditional philologists. His great
achIevement was to have overcome his academic training and
"O�
learned to think originally about subjects that he had not bee
taught. And yet this is what he seems to scorn in the lectures
the Fu.tu �e of OU.r Educa,tional Institutions." They are implicitly a
repudIatIon of NIetzsche s own accomplishment.
Much of the explanation of this curious contradiction lies in
Nietzsche's slavish devotion to Wagner. The neologisms that he
condemns are ones to which Wagner took particular exception
and the unqualified opinions Nietzsche had in mind were un:
�oubtedly reviews of Wagner. In fact, the lectures are so Wagne­
nan that one can legitimately wonder if these are Nietzsche's ideas
at all. But Nietzsche's exalted view of Wagner, this direct adoption
of Wagner's attitudes in important matters, and his deprecation of
himself, were an integral part of his own intellectual development.
He was Wagner's disciple_
The conclusion of the last lecture that Nietzsche actually gave is
a _represen �ation of the genius imposing order upon such people as
hIm �elf. WIth a? ordinary conductor, an orchestra is nothing but a,
comIcal collectIon of fools playing a variety of instruments out of
tune and out of time_ But when a musical genius (like Wagner, who
had also �ormulated new standards of orchestral conducting)
stands up In front of them, they are transformed: "It is as if this
genius entered by an instantaneous transmigration of soul into all .
of these savages, and now only a single inspired eye looked out of
them."59 Suddenly the orchestra plays wonderfully, even without
further rehearsal. Nietzsche's simile promotes the naive and magi- ,
cal the�ry of genius that had been the common parlance of the
early nIneteenth century. The genius-conductor has an aesthetic .
Midas-touch.
No amount of training or practice could enable musicians to
play the music of the muses. They are like the masses in society who
'
can only participate in an ennobling national cause when they ate
 First Works 1 53

led and directed by a visiongeniuary political geniu s. As the masses are

born to be directed, the al distin s is born to direct them . Thus
Nie tzsche reasserted the radic ction that the theory of ge­
nius had always maintaine d, separating the geniu s from the merely
tale nted. But this hierarchic al distinction was less plaus ible than
ever, since in the nineteenthioncentu ry there was more resistance
the "grea t leade r" or
than ever to the subordinat of talen t to
genius. t of ge­
Nie tzsche explained this resistance and the resentmen s: the antip ­
ideology of geniu
niu s by reviving another cliche of theunrec ognized creative geniu s.
athY of contemporaries to the often who
While it had once been the patro ns and politi cal autho rities Wagn e­
now (in the view of the
fail ed to appre ciate true creat ors, publi c opini on who
rian Nietz sche) it was the journ alists and perse cutin g the ge­
pro mote d cultu ral steril ity by scorn ing and not made ," and
niu s. But the geniu s was still the demi god, "born
schoo l. Scho oling had
e in
certai nly not traine d or taught to creat ar as it produ
noth ing to do with creativity, excep t insof ced jour­
nali sts and critic s to oppo se it.
Nietzsche's lectures are as much a restatement of the naive ide­
asium. They are
ology of the genius as they are a critique of the Gymnsion in the ge­
not direc ted again st indiv idual ity or self-e xpres
nius, but only again st attem pts to intro duce the mass esfor to cul­
ture, critic al think ing and self-expres sion. Educationction inthea
mas ses shoul d apparently consi st of elem entary instruhing more
context of discip line and respe ct for autho rity. Anyt ragin g
violates "the natural hierarchy of . . . intell ect," by encou
O ­
the masse s to think for them selve s when they Sh ltld be recon
. ciled to follow and obey. "Let me repeat," Nietz sche states near
. the end of the fifth lecture:
everything that one
All educa tion begin s with the very oppos ite of
begin s with obedi ence,
currently prizes as "acad emic freedo m." It
word u sually applie d to
with subor dinati on, with breed ing (Zucht, a
it). And just
anima ls rather than huma ns), with servitude (Diens tbarke
need their leader s: there
as the great leaders need follow ers, so the led
,
positi on, even a sort of
reigns in the order of intelle ct a mutual predis
preestablished harmo ny.fio

The geniuses and the masses are born for their respective roles.
The common people are not without cultural value in this
 scheme. Nietzsche suggests that the peo ple pos sess
and untutored "rel igious instinct" that underlies the unc on sc i
the fou nda tion of pop ular myth, mo rality,j usti all culture. It
so on. The masses must be kept in their "he alth ce, lan guage ,
state" precisely in order to sustain culture. And all y unc o nscio
cate them beyond a t�ad � tend not onl y to violate natattempts to II
. .hzatIon ural hier
but to endanger cIvI , and even the genius as wel l. The aurnchy
tored and uncritical state of the peo ple is the necessa t'
the emergence of a gen ius: ry matrix U

We kno w what they are after, thes

e peo ple who wan t to interru
bles sed healthy slee p of the peo p t that
ple. They are con stan tly calli
them, "Aw ke! Bec ome c�n scio us! ng t
� Be sma rt!" We kno w what
[really] trymg to acco mpl Ish whe they ar�
n they pret end to be satis fyin
end ous dem g a tre­
� and for educatio n. With this extraordinar
. y mul ti p li ca_
tIOn of scho ols (Bzld ungsanstalten) and the con sequ ent
self- con sc ious cor s of teache rs, crea tio n of
. � these peo ple are figh ting again
natural hIerarchy m the emp Ire . st the
of the inte llect , dest royi ng the
of the high est and nob lest powers roo ts
.
of culture that break forth fro
u � c � nscIOus ness of the peo ple. m the
The se forces [the pow ers of cul
ans mg from the unconsc ious ness ture
of the peo ple] have as thei r
erly purpose the birth, care, and moth;
edu cati on of the gen ius.
Onl y in the sin:i le f the mot he
� can we com preh end the imp
tance and the oblI gatI On that gen � or�
ume pop ular culture or educati
has in regard to the gen ius. The on
actual orig in of the gen ius lies
pop ular cult ure; the gen ius has not in
only a met aph ysic al sour ce,
metaphysical hom e. But that a and
gen ius actually app ears , that he
right out of a peo ple, that he refl rises,
ects the com plet e pict ure of all
stre ? gths of h is particular nati on, the
that he reveals the high est purpose
.
of hIS people m the symboli c bein
g of an indi vidu al and in his eter
work-thus link ing his nati on to nal ",
the eternal, and rele asin g it from
eph eme r l sphere of the mom the
� entary-all of this the gen ius
but only If he has been nou rish can do,
ed and has matured in the mot
lap of his peo ple' s culture. Wit herly
hout this protective and war
h� me, on th other han d, the gen ming
� ius wou ld never unfo ld his win gs
hIS eternal flIgh t, but gradually for
slin k away sadly, as ifhe had been
out of an unfruitfu l land into a win sent
tery exil e. 6 1

For Nietzsche, a genius is a kin of national

masses exist for the genius, and the dgen property. The
ius is
civilization itself. Since according to this theory the jus tification of
of the masses wou ld preclude the enlergence of enl ightenment
the
that it should be avoided. The unc ons cious culturegenius, he urges
of the masses is>
 First Works 1 55

va1U able only insofar as it provides a matrix for the genius.

N'Ie tzs che flatly states: "Our goal cannot be th e education 0 f th e
.
.
masses(, but only the cultivation of selected individuals, those men
" h o are equipped for great and lastIng works. "62
II W This was an aristocratic (and distinctly male) theory of culture
y and education. Most of the writers of the nineteenth century cast
the theory of the genius as a liberal one, and �mplo'yed. I � to IegItI-
' .
', .
U
a te the authority of talented and accomphshed IndIvIduals re­
� rdle ss of their class origins. This "natural" aristocracy of talent
g d ability was contrasted to the aristocracy of birth that had ruled
t � ro pe for centuries. It made way for what Napoleon called "ca-
�:;
rs open to talent." It was a part of the more general movement
popular (that is, non-aristocratic) control of public affairs_ A� s-
heti c and intellectual radicalism seemed to parallel and even reIn­
�J.orce the revolutionary political ferment of the middle classes.
Cul tural and political revolutionaries felt soli danty ' WIt. h one an-
other. ..
Then, in the early nineteenth century, after the bourgeOISIe
had clearly become the century's dominant class a.n? th� appar�nt
rul ers of the future, artists and intellectuals grew dISIllUSIoned with
the new arbiters of power. They realized that while the members of
the middle class had the time and money to patronize culture, they
were materialistic and haphazardly educated. The bourgeoisie was
not often interested in progressive art. And its taste proved to be
quite conservative. Hence the invention ? f "Boh� mia" and eventu­
ally the term "avant-garde" for the truly InnovatIVe cultural forces
of the nineteenth century; and hence the scorn of the avant-garde
for the "philistine" middle class.63 " . t:d by
Like many other artists, Richard Wagner felt unappreCl � .
the public of his time, and he expressed his scorn for the phIhstIne
members of the middle class the clearest terms. In 1 848 Wagner
had been a revolutionary, but now he had become an anti­
democratic traditionalist. Many artists turned in the same direc­
tion as a direct result of the failure of the middle classes to
appreciate their creations. Now aesthetic radi�alism often resulted
in contempt for popular taste and, by extenSIon, for popular gov­
ernment, education, and so on. Wagner and others drew the con­
clusion that democracy had not been a very good idea after �ll. .
As Wagner's disciple, Nietzsche adopted the composer s a�tI­
tude without much hesitation. Although his contempt for the mId­
dle class was distinctly secondhand, he carried this attitude to a
1 56 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

logical conclusion. As long as the scorn of artists like Wagner was

· .
d Irecte d agaInst the conservatism and tastelessness of the bou r _
. . .
geolsle, It see �ed progressive. But Nietzsche was honest and p er-
haps maladroIt e � ough to reveal the deeply aristocratic prem is e of
the theory 0: genIus. He revealed that what had long appeared to
be a revolutIonary and democratic ideology was really an eli ti st
and perhaps even reactionary one. This was one reason why h'IS
public lectures proved so unpopular in Base1.64
The lectures "On the Future of Our Educational Institutio ns"
came to embarrass Nietzsche himself, even before he finished th
series. They constitute a work that Nietzsche never published, 0;
e:e ? completed, but they have nonetheless an important place in
hIS Intell �ctual develo � ment. In t�em Nietzsche worked throu gh�
to the pOInt of absurdIty-the naIve theory of the genius that had
dominated the past century. He demonstrated-especially to him�
self-that the naive idea of the genius was untenable. This is why
the lectures were never completed, even if Nietzsche was not fully
aware of the reason at the time. Having distilled the idea of the ge­
nius in his tale of the orchestra, he could not go on.
� ietzsche was developing in a paradoxical way: becoming pro­
ductIvely creative through a diScipleship that entailed at least tem­
porary self-effacement. His diScipleship to Wagner was drawn out
o:er a period of years, during which he learned the role of the ge­
nIUS �rom hI � �ento � and gradually focused his creative energies'
.
on hIS own lIfe s proJect. Submission to the master was the more
evident consequence of the diScipleship. Less obviously, Nietzsche
w�s learning the :ole of the genius from Wagner, preparing uncon­
SCIously for the tIme when he would assert his own genius.
But genius �s more than a role, and Nietzsche had been training '
hlmse�f as a wnter and a thinker well before he even met Wagner.
.
So whIle he wrote The Bzrth . of Tragedy as a Wagnerian disciple, he
expressed his own thinking with techniques he had acquired inde­
pendently of Wagner. Since the received theory of the genius had
no place for technique and how it is learned, the very fact that he
had become Wagner's disciple seemed to demonstrate that he was
not predestined to be a genius or a leader, but one of the led. The
theory discounted his accomplishments and relegated him to the.
role of 'Yagner's helper. And he accepted that role as long as he"
could, WIth only momentary lapses. But, once he had written The
Birth of Tragedy, some part of him knew that this was far more than
a Wagnerian tract. He had become creative, using his natural �n_ r'
 First Works 1 57

atio n, his auto-didactic train ing in

dowment, his historical educ
iples hip to Scho pe �hauer and Wagner.
ph il o sqphy, and his disc ry of a genI us born to create. In
This experience did not fit the theo
ory.
fact it con tradicted that the
Nie tzsche was an "aut obio graphical" thinker. It was by now
expe �ience in �rder to. unde �­
his practi ce to reflect upon his own
osophize by Intro spec tIon . ThIS habI t
stand the world, and to phil
that ideo lo ?y �f .the �eniu s. t�at
was spawned in him by precisely
n the self a� d Indlvldual �ty. ? Ivlng
pla ced so muc h emp hasi s upo y the tItle of Goe the s Dzchtung
his fourteen-year-ol d's auto biograph
und Wahrheit is an early
evid ence of that. Lon g before mee ting
upo n his life stor y, not
Wagner, Nietzsche had begun to refle ct
Mein Leben, but to lear n
merely to tell it for othe rs as Wagner did in
Future of Our Educatio nal
fro m it hims elf. The lectu res "On the
nerian character and their
Insti tutio ns," desp ite their slavish Wag a refle ction . What he
failure as lectures and as fiction, were such
tely, was that the naiv e the-
learned, but coul d not digest imm edia
ory of the genius did not make sens e. mos t ObVI ­
.
Nietzsche appears in the narrative of the lectures
heard a phil osopher
ously as a stud ent who , year s prev iously, over
. But in fact his per­
say som e reactionary thin gs abou t education ly represented by
rate
sona at the mom ent of writing is more accu
the phil osop her. Just as the com ­
the nameless young com pani on of off�red to re­
panion had withdrawn from teaching, Nietzsche now Just as the
ner. And
sign his post in Basel in orde r to wor k for Wag Wag ner or­
ing,
philo sopher reproved the young teacher for leav
e imp ortantly,
dered Nietzsche back into the academic fray. MQr
iled reco nciii hg him self (at
Nietzsch e's disc iples hip ·to Wagner enta a born ge­
crea tor.2.-
least temporarily) to the idea that he was not a the role
isely
nius-but a worker, a servant of geni us_ This is prec
penhauer and
that the phil osopher-who seems to represen t Scho
This can hard ly
Wagner- assigns to his com pani on in the lectu res.
the com pani on is the
be an accid ent. Nor can it be an accid ent that
zsch e's per­
only figu re in the lectu res who has no anal ogue in Niet
sonal life- exce pt Nietzsche himself.
lectures. An
Nietzsche has therefore at least two pers onas in the
in teresting feature of dreams is that all of the char acte rs in a dream
drea mer. If
may som etim es be understo od as facets of the
eniu s and
Nietzsche is the student who overheard the phil osopher-g asies of
the companion who is reproved by the geni us for his fant
d in
indepe ndence, perhaps the future Nietzsche is also to be foun
 1 58 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

f
the philosoph er himself. In The Birth o Tragedy Nietzsche had go n e
beyond Schopenhauer, and he had always been more of a phi lo so_
pher than Wagner. Even when Nietzsche is putting the thoughtS f
� chopenhauer and Wagner into the mouth of the philosopher, h IS
IS the au th ona · I VOIce . �
· rulIng the text. In effect, Nietzsche de i cts
.
�
h mself most superficially as the eavesdrop ping student; mor si ­ �
�
nlfi �ntly ?ut perhaps unawares, as the reproved compan ion re ­ �
� �
onClII�g hImself to ot b ing a genius; and quite unconsciou sl as
�
th phIlosopher-genIus hImself. It is a repressed desire finding �.
� ��
Ised exp e sion in the text. In an overdetermined autobiograp
Ical text, thIS IS not so much contradictory as it is complete
��.
.
The lectu res "On the Future of Our Educational Insti �utio n s"
are an autoblogr .
� .
phlcal text of a genius in the making. Although
they are among NIetzsche's least original works, they are reveal .
They show that N ietzsch e was not born a genius, bu t th
herculean effort was requIred .
for him to
��� ·
get beyond his disci ple�
�
S IP .
to Wagner, even after he had written at least one work of e­
nlUS. In 1872 NIetzsche
.
.
still had to win his independ ence fr m
Wagner In order to create freely. And Wagner himself was by no
;
means the only obstacle.
 EIGHT

Struggle for Autonomy

•

y 1 872, with Nietzsche still in Basel and Wagner in Bayreuth,

B the careers of the two men began to veer apart. While
Nietzsche wasju st setting out on his career, trying to decide what to
f
write as a seque l to The Birth o Tragedy, Wagner's career had
reached its final station in Bayreu th, where he would remai n for
the final decade of his life. Excep t for the late opera Parsifal,
Wagner's work of compo sition was compl ete; he hqd only to realize
the produ ction of the Ring cycle in the Festival Theater, to be built
presently with the help of Ludwig II. While Wagner consol idated
his achievement, Nietzsche sought the very direction of his career.
Nietzsche and Wagner seemed nevertheless to be on the best of
terms in May 1 872, when Nietzsche made the first of what were to
be only five visits to Bayreuth. On the twenty-secon d, when Wagner
celebrated his fifty-n inth birthday, the composer's closest friend s
and discip les assem bled in Bayreuth. Wagner conducted a select
group of music ians from all over Germ any in a festive perfor­
mance of Beethoven's Ninth Symph ony. l
Later the whole party rode up the hill for the groundbreaking
ceremony where the cornerstone of the Festival Theater was laid.
Among Wagner's guests, Nietzsche seems to have been the most fa­
vored, being chose n to ride with Wagner and his family to the
 I V U 1'l '-" 1'1 1.t. l Z�C HE

building site . This was a joyous eve

nt, for Nietzsche as well as fa
Wagner. r
The favor that Wagner showed Nie
tzsche see me d to confi
wh �t Wagner h d written in his lett
�
catIon of The Bzrth of Tragedy: Nietzsc
ers to Nie tzsc he after the pu
he
��
am ong Wagner ' s d"ISCIP I es, he should was not only the foremost
r2
also be Siegfried 's godfathe
Wagner explained that there was suc
. h a difference in age betwe .
h·Imse If an d hIS son that a fam ily "m en
ember" seemed to be misSI' .
an d SIn n
.
· ce N Ietz
' sch e was alre ady like a son to Wagner, he was thg'
ion after Wagner Wae
logIcal one to take over Siegfr ied 's educat
gon e. W·Ith th'IS ap arent com plim ent
p , however, Wagner may als s
have provoked NIetzsche to think
of him self taking Wagner�o
pla ce:� s
Nie tzsche was actually more com for
table in Basel now that th
o�
Wagners were in Bayreuth. In order
to plan his own career auton
mo usl�, he needed a certain dis tan
. ce fro m the com poser's over.
whelm Ing Infl uen ce. Perhaps withou t realizing the
fre e to work on a projec t without cau se, he felt
con sul tIn g Wagner. In Octob
187 2, Nietzsche wrote Wagner one of er
the most tranquil and spo nta
neo us letters of their entire corres ­
. pon den ce. Among' other thi ngs,
N'Ietzsch e cautIoned that Wagner mig
ht have to wait qui te a while
b�fore !te cou ld exp ect another wor
� Im. HIS own development demanded k like The Birth of Tragedy from
tI ? n, he rote. In an answer which anything but hasty publica.
,; was
NIetzsche s calm self-assertion, Wagne alm ost as remarkable
r gracefully accepted this. It
must have see me d to Nietzsche tha
mate WIt. h Wagner, even if their cre tinu e to be per­
. . t he could con
sonally IntI
diverge. Relations between the two ative paths shou ld
men seem never to have been
better.4
By t�e end of the year, ho ev r, the
peared In a letter from CosIm . ",: � first sign of difficu lty ap­
a.') It IS a warm and chatty letter unt
the end, where there is a curt warnin il
g to Nietzsche, adv isin g him to
�emain "true" to the Wagners and not to let him self be
In �o a posture of independence. It seduced
. seems as though Cosim a's letter�
wntIng had bee n interrupted by Wa
gner, and he had ins tructed
�er to give Nie tzsche that me ssage;
and she, obeying, was left witll
lIttle else to say.
As Nietzsche had no pla ns to be unt ,
perturbed. H ?wever, when he was rue to Wa gne r, he was not
inv I
mas and dec ded to spe nd the hol ited to Bayreuth for Christ-
� . iday in N aumburg with his
mo ther and sIster Ins
wrath. Un.
tead, he really incurred Wagner's
<
 Strugglefor Autonomy 161

r aware of this, he sent Cosima a present o f his "F�ve Prefaces to Five

Unwritten Books."6 It was February before CosIma acknowledg�d
tha t she had received the gift. She explained that she had no � wnt-
� n to thank him because Wagner had been angry about hIS not
t �� ming to Bayreuth, and about the manne� in whi�h he had an·
2 nounced it.7 But by now, Cosima reassured hIm h�ppIly, when they
s oke of Nietzsche they spoke warmly, and so NIetzsche need no
p . .
longer worry abou t Wagner s opInIon 0 f h' 1m. 8
/
,
. .
Cosima's reassurance must have dIsturbed NIetzsche even
more than her silence. Shortly after receiving her letter, Nietzsche
wrote his friend Gersdorff that he had honestly not known that
Wagner had been upset; indeed, he wondered why ?"ersdorff, who
had been in Bayreuth for Christmas, had not told hIm. Yet he real·
.
�ed that he unwittingly gave Wagner cause for displeasure often
enough. As often as he had tried to discover the reason for th'IS: h e
did not understand it. He was absolutely loyal to Wagner: " I Just
cannot think how anyone could be truer to Wagner in all the main
things, or more deeply devoted-if I could just imagine i �, I ,:ouI.d
be it even more." But then he protested that he had to maIntaIn hIS
independence in certain minor matters, precisely in order to be
.
able to maintain this devotion in every higher sense. He felt It a
hygienic necessity, as he put it, to avoid too-f�equent p�rsonal con­
tact with Wagner. His work on his own projects requIred that he
quarantine himself from the composer.9 • •

Gersdorff advised Nietzsche to visit the Wagners bnefly on hIS

way to and from N aumburg.lO Nietzsche accepted this suggestion,
and in 1 873 he visited Bayreuth in both April and October. The
first of these visits afforded an opportunity for areQ�ezvous with
his friend Erwin Rohde, who enjoyed his semester vacation at the
same time and also went to Bayreuth. The presence of his friend
and fellow philologist suggested that Nietzsche ' should take along
his new manuscript, which he had mentioned in several letters to
Rohde that winter. 1 1 The preparation of this opusculum, as he called
"Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks,"12 had been one of �he
chief preoccupations keeping him from visiting Bayreuth at � hnst.
mas. Nietzsche had written it without informiQg Wagner, takIng ad­
vantage of the distance between Basel and Bayre� th. Becaus� it was
completely his own, unlike The Birth of Tragedy, It was very Impor­
tant to Nietzsche.
"Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks" is much more
pedagogical than either The Birth of Tragedy or the other fragments
 1 62 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

t�at Nietzsche wr? te after the appearance of his first book. It grew
dIrectly out of NIetzsche's lectures in Basel , which were now' In .
. -
creasIngly devoted to philosophic textsY It is an essay in the h'�s _

tory of philosophy, dedicated to the project of Bildung in the most

traditional and didactic sense of the word.
Nietzsche focuses upon the personal inclinations and cen tral
.
Ideas of Thales, Anaximander, Heraclitus, Parmenides, and An�
.
axagoras, but the In
.
�roductory chapters make plain that he planned to
deal sequentIally WIth the whole " 'republic of creative minds ' fr
Thal� s to Socrates."l4 The book was to be. therefore. a didacti � in t
ductIon to early Greek philosophy, something that might interest
�:
laymen and be used by students. Perhaps Nietzsche wanted to dem­
onstrate his professional competence as a teacher of philoso ph .
since he still �oped to trade his professorship of philology at Bas ;
f�r one In.
p hIlosophy. Although it is rather prosaic by comparison
:
. of Tragedy, "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of
wIth The Bzrth
. the
Gree k s" IS a remarkably concise, lively, and thoroughly partisan
. .
dIScussIon of pre-Socratic philosophy. As Nietzsche wrote in his
preface,

My attempt to tell the story of the older Greek philosophers is distin­

guish: d rom similar attempts by its brevity. This has been attained by
�
mentIOnIng, for each of the philosophers, but a very small number
of doctrines. It is distingu ished, in other words, by its incomplete-'
ness. But I h�ve selecte th e doctri nes which sound most clearly
� ?�
the personalIty of the IndIvIdual philosopher, whereas the com·
plete enumeration of all the tran smitted doctrines, as it is the
custom of the ordinary handbooks to give, has bu t one sure result:
the complete silencing of personality. That is why those reports are !
so dull. The only th ing of interest in a refuted system is the per·
sonal element. This alone is forever irrefutable.15

Nietzsche's fasc�inat� on wi th the personal element in philoso­

.
phy �as apparent In hIS earlIer gravitation to Schopenhauer. At
that tIme he want� d a philosophy with a personality, a quest at
.
least partIally motIvated by his search for a paternal model. But
now he sublimated his own personal search for the cultural ben­
e � t of his prospective readers, assuming that they too needed ge­
nIus- � entors. He noted that we may judge people who mean ·
nothIng to us purely by their aims; but it is different with those ' I

we admire:
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 63

, but love them for the ways and

Ofte n we disapprove of their aims
hical systems are who lly true only for
m eans of their striv ing. Phil osop one
eque nt phil osophers they usua lly seem
their foun ders . For all subs erro rs,
ate ends , in any ca.se, they are
great mist ake . . . . Take n as ultim ve of ever y
d. Thu s, man y peop le dIsa ppro
an d henc e to be repu diate ther hand ,
s not the�rs . . . . On t e �
?
ph iloso pher , beca use his g� al .
�
In such sys­
vidu ais wIll also take JOY
wh oever takes joy in great mdi
plete ly erro neou s. They alwa ys have one
tems, even if they are com
al mO od, and colo r. The y can be used
in controvertible poin t, a,pe rson ,
her. 16
to gain an image of the phil osop

admirable phil o � op�er was ,

constructing a powerfu l image of an
e important than JudglI� g the
in Nietzsche'S experie nce, far mor em wou ld pro ve false In any
value of a phil osop hic system. The syst
to define truth, cou ld be emu-
case. But the phil osopher, struggli ng
lated nonetheless. eks," Nietzsche'S
In "Ph ilosophy in the Tragic Age of the Gre
novel view of the history � f
focus upo n the personal unfolds into a of each pre-Soc�atic
hilo soph y. He notes the personal disp osit ion each as func tIon
� hilo sopher, and he a� alyzes th� sali� nt ideas
of
them and the psy cho
s
­
of the per son al mot Ives that Insp Ired . � ietzsche converts
philosophical con sequ ence s entailed in them
of dIsp arate fragments
these dim figures from mysterious authors
es. In his han d� they be­
into starkly individual phil osophical hero
P � ato and hIS succes­
come geni uses of even greater stature than
tzsche, beca.u.se of
sors. Heraclitus in particular stands out for NIe
ce and mutabIhty of
the hon esty with whi ch he stud ied the transien
thingsP , . on .In thIS. httle '

Nietzsche centers his phil osop hical discusSI

nd the Eleatic phi­
book upon the alternatives posed by Heraclitus � app ars as the
us
losophers, Parm enid es and Anaxagoras. HeraclIt �
ultIm ate real­
chan ge, app eara nces , and the
defender of mutability,
"exi stence" . as o �­
ity of what phil osophers call "bec oming" and
e, Herachtus dId
posed to "being" and "essence." According to Ni�tzsch d, more real
Idea l worl
without the metaphysical comforts of another,
Nietzsche �ought
than this apparent one. For precisely this reason, ard NIetzsche
him to be the more profound thinker. From this time onw
stan� .himself as a
would always sustain this Heraclitan thesis and unde:
hCItly as an al­
disciple of Heraclitus. And Heraclitus would figure Imp eon. IS
ternative to Schopenhauer and Wagner in Nietzsche's panth
and Anaxagoras
Nietzsche fully appreciated that Parm enid es
 1 64 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

had refuted any phil osop hical influ ence

that Heracli tus might
h�ve ha� in the next two thousand years. 1
� ;
Wlt thelr Ystem, he c�u ld praise them as
. .
9 Even as he disagreed
mentors to the entire
tr� ItIO n ? Western phI loso phy. They created a phi
tnx that � Imp ly erased Heraclitus from the loso phi cal ma�
history of phi losoph
a� d dom �nated Western phil osop hy virtuall
N Ie �zsche s Own mom ent in the nineteenth
y unchallenged u nt
cent
�
ury. Denying the '
ObV IOUS eVI. � ence of the sens es, they argu
change and Impermanence. TheIrs . ed the imp ossi bil ity of
was a metaphysical phil osoph
of "b elng ' . It wou ld hardly be an exagger Y
' , " esse nce , �n d eternIty
t�. on to say that they Invented Western met a_
aphysics. Their con clu­
SIon s b�came the bas is of all later form
. s of idea
esse ntIa lIsm , from Plato onwards. Nietzsche underst lism and
ump h of the Eleatic phil osophers to be the ood the tri­
disaster of Western phi­
lo �oph y. But although he felt their acco mpl
ishm
crIme, he w�s more c�n erned with their phil ent was their great
� osop hical gen ius and
agon than WIth the valIdIty of the resulting
system.
Est blis hing his own phil sop hical pos itio
�erac��Itus and the Eleatlcs, . � n in relation ship to
NIetzsche was also beginning to resolve
hIS a�tItudes to�ard his modern men tors .
He had long kno wn that
he d �sagree? WIth Sch ope nhauer on the
mos t imp ortant philo­
sophIcal pOIn ts. And now he was beginn
�rom ��gner a?d his romantic ideology as well. Still, he persiste
ing to distance himself
In adm lnn g theIr personal herolsm . d
.Jus t as he admired Parmenides
and Anaxagoras, Nietzsche wanted to che
rish Sch ope nhauer and
Wag?er as fa�her1y mentors even as he reje
cted
and Ideals. NIetzsche believed that "the only their phi losophies
thing of interest in a
refuted system is the personal elem ent. " He
might have written the
same of an outgrown mentor. Beyond that
, of course, Nie tzsche
had fou nd a more enduring men tor in Her
acli tus.
Not surprisingly "Ph ilosoph y in the Tragic
Age of the Greeks" ,
fou nd IItt.
�e favo: WIth
:
Wagner. Nietzsche took his manuscript to
Bayreuth In Apnl 1873 with the inte ntio n
of sho win g it to Wagner
a�d Rohde.20 R?hde' reaction is unk now
n,21 but the com poser
faIle� t? appreCIate eIther the accessib ility
�
or the pole mical intent
of thIS lIttle book. He missed any reference
to
to be typical academic work, unrelated to him self and found it
con tem p�rary cultural
pro blem s.22 Wagner's ill-humo r mus t have
bee n form idable for as '
soo n as N ietzsc�e ret rned t Basel he wro
� ? te Wagner an abj�ct let­
�er of apo lo�, 2 an� ImmedIately dropped the proj ect. He began
Instead to wnte a dIfferent essay on the
liberal theologian D: F.
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 65

Strau ss, a subject that Wagner had directly proposed to him in

Bayreuth.
. .
In 'his letter, Nietzsche humbly acknowledged the JustIce of
Wagner's dissatisfaction with him. This must have been unbearable
to Wagner, he wrote. Every moment with Wagner was a revelation
of things he had never considered, and he wished to absorb them
all; unfortunately, he was a slow learner. Nietzsche further con­
fessed that he had indeed wished for some independence, but now
he saw that he had wished in vain. It made him sadder and sadder,
he wrote, that he seemed incapable of helping in the Wagnerian
cause. And he pleaded with Wagner to accept him as a pupil,
though not a very intelligent one.24 The whole episode ��em � to. i!:
lustrate Nietzsche's earlier judgement that he had a hygIenIC
need to avoid too-frequent contact with Wagner.
N ow that he was back in Basel his one hope, he continued in
this remarkable letter, was to entertain Wagner with his projected
attack upon D. F. Strauss.25 This was the little book that he was now
writing instead of finishing "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the
Greeks." He announced the project to Rohde as well, but in other
terms: only in a "holy rage" against Strauss had he been able to
dispel the ill-humor in which he had returned to B �se1.26 Obviously
Nietzsche was not writing about Strauss for purely Intellectual rea­
sons. He had no intrinsic interest in attacking this man. He was sim­
ply venting anger.
"Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks" therefore re­
mained a manuscript during Nietzsche's lifetime, so it cannot be
known whether Nietzsche would have published it as a small book,
or as part of a larger philosophical work that he seems to have en­
visioned at this time. ' The larger project is often referred to as
Nietzsche's Philosophenbuch or Philosopher's Book, a title mentioned in
his notebooks and correspondence.27 The significance of the work
is that it is the first that Nietzsche wrote independently of Wagner,
but that Wagner was able to discourage him from finishing it, and
manipulate him into writing a very uncharacteristic attack upon
Strauss.
,.

David Friedrich Strauss was a free-thinking theological writer,

famous as the author of the secular and historicist Life ofJesus, first
published in 1 835, when the author was a young man.28 In that
book Strauss gave a thoroughly unmiraculous account of the life of
Jesus, and explained the mythical Jesus as the product of the needs
1 66 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

of ancientJews and early Christians forjust such a mythical hero . It

was a brave and remarkable book in its time. For writing as a
thinker on such a central religious question so early in the
teenth century, Strauss was quickly dismissed from his university
post and never regained an official position. Discriminated agai nst
throughout his life, Strauss maintained a dignified critical attitud�
toward the philistinism of his contemporaries. He was someone
whom Nietzsche might have admired. Indeed reading The Life of
Jesus had been the catalyst of Nietzsche's decisive break with C hris.
tianity in 1 865, when he dropped theology as a major and began
studying for a career in philology under Strauss's influence.29
Strauss had offended Wagner by criticizing him for having per.
suaded Ludwig II to dismiss a rival composer.30 So when Strau ss's
book The Old Faith and the New appeared in 1 872,31 Wagner saw an
opportunity for revenge. The book was largely a restatement of'
views Strauss had held for forty years, the work of an old man who
no longer wrote as vigorously as he had iIi 1 835. When Nietzsche
visited Bayreuth in April 1 873, he found Wagner ranting about
Strauss and demanding that Nietzsche attack Strauss instead of
praising Heraclitus in his tedious academic essay. Nietzsche must
not have defended Strauss very vigorously, for he let himself be
persuaded to write a satiric essay on Strauss. The incident is un·
flattering to both men: to Wagner because he used Nietzsche as his
tool in settling a trivial score with Strauss, and to Nietzsche because ,
he complied.
Back in Basel it was a matter of days before Nietzsche com·
pleted a first draft of David Strauss, the Confessor and the Author.32 It
was a vicious and personal attack, deriding Strauss's style even
more recklessly than his ideas. It is as if Nietzsche had taken a les·
son from his own critic, Wilamowitz·Moellendorf. It is a weak de·
fense of Nietzsche to suggest that his essay brilliantly ridicules
Strauss as a representative of the superficiality and philistinism of
German culture in the 1 870s.33 Such ridicule was cheap even then.
What is more, the essay failed to advance Nietzsche's own thinking.
It pales into insignificance in Nietzsche's oeuvre, even by compari·
son with the didactic "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks."
When Strauss died a few months after the essay was published,
it was said that Nietzsche's satire had killed him. Nietzsche himself
was deeply troubled by this. He must have had a bad conscience
about letting Wagner's rage provoke him to this intemperate per­
sonal attack. In a letter to Gersdorff, Nietzsche expressed the hope . �
 1 67
Struglg efor A utonom,y

he
at Str auss h a d no t had the mi sfortu ne to see his work before
th M
died.
• •

t Str auss d z'd see N1' etz sch e's ess ay ' and his puzzled reactIon IS
Bu
also noteworthy:
Th e on ly thi ng I
uart o the n they hang you .
Firs t ?t ey dra
ere
�
StIn
a
g
nd q
ab ou t
��: � ll OW [Nietzsche] is the
psychological
find Int . a per son wh ose pat h
h ow on e can get Int o such a rage with .
'
pO In t-
In
' b ' ef the rea l mo tiv e of thi s paS SIO nat e h a­
d , ,
on e ha s never cro sse
n

tred .35

. is that thi s attack served to ven t

�
, l
;
S
::::
u
;:eef �i�� ��� � i; :C�pr:ov�1�e�t::�����r :oer�: ��:t� �
r
. t ;
on Greek ph ilo sophyab
sch e ha d be e � le to � x � ress it more straightforward ly,
Ni etz
t ha ve be en d1r ect e d ag a1n s Wa gner him self. And the ay ess
migh. or. .
rega1ned h'1m Wagner' s fav vid Str aus s wit h ren ew ed praise. NIetzsche
Wagner rea c t e d to Da
o rte d tha t Wa gn er sw ore to Go d that Nietzsche was the only6 onSoe
rep t h Wa ner] wanted.3
[of his disci ples] ,:"h ot:ene:U t��; an: l e1o;ed disciple. An d
Nietzsc�e ,:as . ag�ln e wa s so far restored that he ha d the he ad
Wagner s faIth In �letzsch. Nietzsche the task of writing a proda-
,;; ':
of �e Wa�� ���=� ��� uld distribu te throu ghou� Germany-;
t
:: ���;
i
projected F.estival Theater � aYi::� o �� tf
ns. Th�� t
tise me nt of the
intended to eli cit co ntrib� ti�tlO
Wagner-to bestow an 0bl 19a n up
��:�:�h��S" �ou;Jit were
an h�n �r.
,
aV1n? done Wagner's
/
wil l so ext rav aga ntl y in the essay on
Strau ss, NIetzsche fel t a renedweRo d desire for creative ependewrnce
ind
if he would no t lik e to ite
from the master. � o h� aske . B hdeohde was now unwil lin g to be ­
the prodam�tion In h1s . ste �a�� �himselfP Nietzsche ha d to do
come more 1nvolv�d w1th : eu th be fore his second visit of
� r��. ecte d by the
the job He sen t hIS dra ft to ayr
1 873 . I �on ically, his po mp ou sly ph � ase d te� t s
too stn en t.
leaders of the Wagner So ciety for. be Ing .

When Nietzsche we nt to Bayreh �sthessina��

! !
O �t� e� � ��ri;� ��:' ':
s
did no t discuss with the Wagners � c
�;
tage of History for Life. N or d id :�: ��: m ptin g to establish his in-
ide as taking shape in
his ph ilo sophIcal note b 00ks.
.
 depe nden ce once again, and protecting his creative work
Wagner's view. Apparently he coul d only main tain from
his creative in.
dep �nde � ce by work ing secretly, with out informing
the Wagners
of hIS proJe cts. But now -in this med itation on histo
rical cultu re__
Nietzsche had foun d a proj ect that mattered to him,
�ust might also int�rest Wagner. Thus a proj ect that
he stilI hope d to please (an d
I�StruCt) Wagner, If only he could get the essay writt
en and pu b.
IIshed before Wagner had an opportunity to criticize it.
Perhaps he
felt that pleas ing Wagner with an inde pend ent work
woul d co n.
firm his creative capacities. Real sons often cherish such
hope
Con tinuin g the series of Untimely Meditations may have s.
p � stponing work on the Philosophenbuch; but, more m eant
probably,
NIetzsche had already abandoned this as an integrated
project. He
loaded his philosophical notebooks with a variety of still
inchoate in.
tellectual projects and aspirations that would require
years of devel.
opment before he could work them out into a whol
e list of later
books. What Nietzsche lacked more than anything else
at this time
was a dear sense of himself as a philosopher. So even witho
ut the dis.
turb ing influence of Wagner's demands, the PhilosOPhe
probably never have been realized as a single work.
nbuch would

. In fact, ':Vagner's critique of Nietzsche's acad emic style of writ.

Ing was havIng a salutary effect: Nietzsche wrote his
Uses �nd Disadvan�a�e of History for Life for intellectualsessay On the
at large. As
the tItle suggests, It IS a critique of histo ricis m in the
In t�e lat� nine�eenth entury the bourgeoi sie indu
largest sen se.
� lged in recapit.
ulatl ng hIstory In archItecture, cloth ing, furniture, gard
ens, music,
novels, and even religiosity. Perhaps this wave of nosta
lgia compen.
sated for the rapid large·scale economic and social chan
ges they en.
dured. In Germany in particular-where such men
as Leop
Ranke ?a� developed history into a rigorous academic old von
discipline,
and Helnnch von Treitschke was making history into
a nationalistic
fetish-historical studies attained immense prestige.39 Unti
l Nietzsche
wrote his essay, it was universally assumed that every
advance in his.
torical science was an unmitigated boon to civilizatio
n.
Nietzsche's perfectly novel view was that "the historical and
torical are equally necessary for the health of an individual, a peop the unhis.
a culture."40 �en historical knowledge was so le and
�Ietzs
. high ly regarded,
che found It necessary to urge that the unhistorical, or
the capac. .
Ity to forget, was the more essential of the two: as an
antidote to the
surfe it of historicism. For only in the unselfconsciou
s present could
one act creatively:
I
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 69

All acting requires forgetting, as not o � ly lig t but a so d�rkness is

� �
required for l ife by all organisms . . . . It IS possIble to l Ive wIth �lmost
no memories, even to live happily, as the animal sho� s; but wI thout
.
forgetting it is quite impossible to liv� at � ll. Or, to s�y It more slm �ly
.
yet: there is a degree of insomnia, of rumzna�zon, �f hzstorzcal sense whzch. zn'
jures every living thing andfinally destroys zt, be zt a man, a people, or a cul·
ture. 41

In excess, historical knowledge-and even personal �emories­

are debilitating. This, accordin g to Nietzsche, was the dIsease. of the
nineteenth century. Looking backward instead of forward, hIS con·
temporaries had lost their capacity to ac � in .the. prese � t and form
the future to their will. They had lost theIr vltahty. ThIS was a pre·
lim inary definition of decadence. .
On the Uses and Disadvantage of Hzstory for Life IS largely �evoted
. .
to clarifyin g the psychological and cultural symptom s o.f thIS de �a.
dence , particularly the excess of knowledge, and especIally of hIS'
torical knowledge. Nietzsche thought that modern man had lost
touch with his instincts and no longer acted spontaneously; he had
become a self·cons cious spectator of his own actions. Modern man
behaved as a latecomer who could find nothing �o .do ?ut carry on
accumulating knowledge with ever greater specIahzatI.o � . He. was,
according to Nietzsche, an epigo �� and t? e�ef�re a cynIc, � n spIte of
his apparent optimism and uncntIcal faIth In progress. . .
Nietzsche looked beneath the s,"uface of obvious matenah sm
that was the target of most other critics b� bourgeoi s society. He
attacked the nineteenth century's quest for knowle<;ige: � e s �w that
history, scholarship, science, and the quest �or. k�Q�ledge In g.en.
eral-pursuits that are seldom termed m�tenahstIc :-were all � �th.
out a culturally qetermined purpose. As In econ�mIcs and pohtIcs,
there was only a vague aspiratio n for "more." NI � tzsche �as one of
the very first to appreciate that all of the dynam � sm of hIS century
was undirected. There was no higher goal. The dIfferenc e �e �wee.n
Nietzsche and other critics of nineteenth·century matenah sm IS
that he diagnosed the historical culture of his tim � �s . a s�mptom .of
the grave illness and decadence of West�tn CIVIhzatI on,. whIle
many of his contemporaries were awed by hIstory a�d expenen ce ?
the accumulation of historical knowledge as an antIdote to maten·
alism.
Nietzsche 's critique of the nineteenth century's un d'Irecte.d
quest for knowledge was particularly acute because he focused hIS
 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

attack specifically upon historical knowledge. He had of COu rse

been trained as a philologist, and was therefore in the broadest
sense a historian. Personal experience, however, had taught him
that his professional training threatened his creativity. Thu s the
obsession with historical knowledge that he had experienced in the
philological profession led him to question the sanctity of knowl­
edge more generally. He concluded, with surprising alacrity for a
highly educated young man, that knowledge is useful only insofar
as it serves life; it should not be esteemed for its own sake. Carried
to extremes, the pursuit of knowledge is deadly.
According to Nietzsche in On the Uses and Disadvantage ofHistory
for Life, nineteenth-century Europeans and Germans in particu lar
were so obsessed with knowledge that creativity had become nearly
impossible. And their efforts to cultivate an historical awareness of
ancient Greek culture, and to inculcate Greek values in schoolboys,
showed up the great difference between themselves and the
Greeks. For the ancient Greeks were heedless of the foreign
sources of their own culture. They cheerfully absorbed influences
from abroad without doubting their own superiority. They were
too preoccupied with the art and culture they were creating to care
about knowledge for its own sake. The modern Germans, in con­
trast, were slavishly devoted to the past, and particularly to the
Greeks. They revered such pieces of the past as they could gather,
and had no unifying artistic style or spirit of their own. They were
more concerned with collecting than with creating.
Nietzsche felt that he was living in a museum-century. People
were reading historical novels, living and working in historical re­
vival architecture, and educating their children in ancient lan­
guages, all without any sense of purpose other than to venerate the
past. He argued that the most fundamental threat to the spontane­
ity, vitality, and creativity of the nineteenth century was the wor­
ship of knowledge for its own sake. And he buttressed his argument
with quotations from commonly accepted geniuses like Goethe,
who had said that he hated everything that merely instructed him
without directly quickening his creative function.
Like his friend Jacob Burckhardt and many of their educated
contemporaries, Nietzsche believed that creative action is possible
only for individuals. The Hegelian idea that the state might be creative
was an anathema to Nietzsche. Only an individual genius like Goethe,
Schopenhauer, or Wagner could rescue even the general culture of the
nineteenth century from its decadence. For Nietzsche the most danger- �
 171
strugglefor Autonomy

n se quen ce of his tor ica l ed uca tio n an d culture wa� th�t it,
ous co ed to suffocat e Iu . d stifle creativity. To hIS mIman nd
ht rea. ten the "humanls� t�IC,� edsuacnation purveyed in the Ger
premncIse' Iyum thre tene t extI. � . h imagination and creatI. vIt. y b y
Gy asi � � �o In��:he mines of history to collect and
sendin H or � edyou
g en er etIc
at thIS,. ��letzsche argued that genius must at all
classify. presnfierved from the ef£ects of modern educatio . n. .Since
costs b e as wonderIng . , whether he might not be a gen hlmseIf IUS
Ni. e tz sch e � to the degree f In 0
. dependence he felt fro. m Wagner),
ro p o rtIon
(In p questlo. f particularly personal interest and Impor�. .
this was a Uses :n� Disadvantage of History is autobiogra�hlcal In
On the .
cter , In S pi. te of the relatively abstract issue that It treatsd.
c ha ra tra pp e d . � a historical education himself, an
I
Niet zsc he ha d be en 1
. ue . t publI· cly While he blames his
.
grasp ed th e op po � t� nit y to cn tIq
. g hIS. cre t . . . he notes that only his expe-
education for Ilo inhlb � tIn
. logIst perr�lltte . � ���hiS insight into the ill effects
rience. as .a .ph . On ly kn ow Ing h OW '
the an cient Greeks dealt witive . h
hi sto n Clsm
of oul h demonstrate the comparat
their h istorical antece ?ent� � . � h: S Nietz sche atte mpted to free
sterility of modernhishISretO�eClS� m the excess of historical educa­
him self a�d then gh hiS� tO:�c��knowledge. Th is slightly paradox­
tion pre. cIsely . thr. ou m PI e 0 f the reflexive style of
ical SIt ua tio n IS an ear ly exa
1 1. ,
ch more th an ·n 'The Bir th oif Trag-
Nietzsche's mature th·WI�k·eco Ing'. Mu
edy, N iet zsc he wa� no
mI.ng the critical gentoius creativitoriy,ginanal-d
. wh ose
ity would consIst ing of exposIng the thr . eat. s
ate ly in rev eal the nat ure o � ge : ::: :� a new version
ult im
etz sch e's pe rso na l p ese � ce In . ay was an un�sually
Ni �In vlew f ts precedent -in The Birth of
0 1 .
"subje. cti. ve" gestur .d ,thant mo
. e ' eve
st readers would tell him that hIS an-
Tragedy. He �re d·I.c �e unnatural, repulsive ,
tipathy for �lst�nClsmmi,:ssl as. " � uite erverted,bin
and. downnght lmper as a g'bestu e\eeli�g·" Ascri an g so vehement a
as ifh e were
re­
action to h·IS read �rs w lsun 0 re f se If- I·mport ce-
,

. ders �ood b �his conedit tempo ies, an un-

rar
laying claim to �eIng �l tzsche g ve. hi self cr linforgs""dabariountghis to
recognized genlus. NIe
come forward wit? a natudralf rde�c�InIpgfIO� of my fee
ed cator to his age.fasHh­e
u
historical educationen, ahIS� Ins . � �
0
lght Int �iS. own exp, ofericou ence and
claimed to have. tak h·IS co, nte nes. That rse ' is wh at
ioned a correctlVe for tzs he, . mphora .I fr ok written indepen-
a genius does. So Nie �Imp ;.�i:ly :O Imast kebohis
1
first claim to the
, dently of Wagner, seems
status of a gen ius.
 The autobiographical dimension of the essay points to
Niet�sche's own creati�e authority. and to his. need for autonomy
and Independence. WhIle Wagner IS not mentIoned, he is one ofits
foci. Of course Wagner had insisted that Nietzsche remain in the
role of professor of philology. His motive was that Nietzsche would
be of greater use to him in the university, for in late nineteenth­
century Germany a university professor of classical philology had .
more authority than a free-lance intellectual could ever have. In his
anxiety to keep his disciple at the university, Wagner was moti­
vated by precisely that excessive esteem for historical studies that
Nietzsche attacked. So in this critique of historicism Nietzsche was
struggling to demonstrate his independence, not only of his educa­
tion, but of Richard Wagner as well.
When On the Uses and Disadvantage of History was published in
February 1 874, it aroused Wagner's ire in much the same way his
work on "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks" had done.
The new work, however, was no academic treatise, although
Wagner denounced it as such; and it did address the contemporary
state of culture. It broached the agenda that Nietzsche had set 01lt
for the Philosophenbuch. It is a much more significant work than
Nietzsche's critique of Strauss, being a general critique of histori- '
cism, rather than a personal attack upon one historicist. And it has
proved to be the most enduring of the Untimely Meditations, read as
much today as The Birth of Tragedy. Had Wagner been thinking of
Nietzsche's creative development, he might have been cheered by
the publication of this second Untimely Meditation. But Wagner was
congenitally shortsighted when it came to the creations of his disci­
ples, and he failed utterly to appreciate the virtues of this one.
Wagner's negative reaction to The Uses and Disadvantage of His­
tory might be explained by the composer's preference for reflec­
tions upon his own greatness and attacks upon his enemies; he was
not very interested in Nietzsche's ideas. Cosima complained in a
letter that Nietzsche' s new essay was too abstract, and that he would
not find a single enemy for a work in which he flailed about so in­
discriminately-as if to say that finding enemies was the main
point. She also used the occasion to suggest that it would be better
for Nietzsche to refrain from such passionate polemics-:-as if the
attack upon Strauss had not been passionatel He should, she
thought, become a little more philistine himself, get married, relax,
and write more deliberately. If he would do these things, such in­
temperate writings as this might be turned into something really:
 1 73
Struglg efor Autonomy

good. Of course, ,in givitIm .ng Nietzsche this ironic advice, she was only
relaying Wagnetzsc r s sen ents.42 . . g letter, the pres-
Just as Nie he received thIS condescendIn
mount over his next visit to Bay reuth. Throughout
sure began to1 874 tzsche scarcely wrote a le�ter I.nIty
. w h·ICh he d·d 1
the spring of slyNie .
doubts about hIS abIl to goerthe-­ (usu
t simultaneou expresslth)hisand
:�y on3 Geraccosdoruntff,ofwhohisseheaattitude washisnowgreagovt deserneiredtoentIg?rely nev
by the
Ies S .4
ice that Nie tzsche get mar: ly a tfIP ied, an d. sug-
Wagners, repeated their adv for his health might be preCIseatened t�tot
gested that the best curethe ter. Gersdorf� even thre �
Bayreuth for a visit with e toMas self wou ld not VISI t
if N ietzsche did not com Bayreuth, he hIm
Base1.44 was comIng closer to ope n
•

In the summer of 1 874 Nietzscs toheBay reu�h, �h�ch now symbol­

conflict with Wagner overashistovisit Nietzsche-hIs wIll" Ingness tod·d drop
. d-to Wagner as well
lze to sustain Wagner.4 Wag offo :> ner 1 not
his own creative work in ordser' crea tive capacities, but instead. ofs­
fail to recognize his disciple cherished their talents �s r�flIn ect1ons
tering their productivity, hesure d their loyalty by theI r wtll .
�n �ss �o
his own glory. And he mea him �is was at �he roo t of hIS I� SIS­
neglect their work to attendhe. For. ThIS , NIe tzsche reco ed gnIz
tent invitations to Nie tzsc had professpart ral years that
Wagner as a genius and impor ant edhanfor?isseve own work. He had
Wagner's cause was far moreed to gIve � �
dIrectIOn to own efforts
hIS.
said repeatedly that he wish ipli�� , and ?e hoped that �tzsc agner
by submitting to Wagner's discduC tIVIty. As It turne� out, NIe he
wou ld lead him to genuine pro issio n t� Wagne�, ah? ,Wagn�r was
was incapable of complete subm entary Interest In NIetzsche s cre­
unable to sustain his own momisciple rela tionship was becoming
ative work. The whole genius-d
untenable. ..

In his next Untimely Meditati on, Schopenhauer as Educator,

Nietzsche memorialized his firsther great mentor while defining his­
independence of the philosop 's powerfu l influence: Sch?
penhauer was still imp ortantr muc to Nietzsche, but the relatIOn ShIp
with Wagner had taken ove prehcise of the emo tion al inte nsit y of
that earlier relationship. For mer of ly1 874 that reas on, even as he
worked on this essay in the sumence upon Wag , Nie tzsche was also ad­
dressing his unresolved depend the composer ner . Inas�uch as he
hoped to liberate him self from as well , hIS general
 1 74 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

preoccupation with the master-disciple relationship became a s

text of this essay on Schopenhauer. The psychological parallel ub­
tween Nietzsche's relationships with Schopenhauer and Wagnbere­
as
was such that Schopenhauer Educator necessarily became-even if
only unconsciously-a preliminary study for a declaratio n of re­
spectful independence from Wagner.
In May 1874 Nietzsche wrote Wagner a curious birthday gre
ing.46 It was Wagner's sixty-first birthday, and Nietzsche noted thetat­
the day also marked the fifth year since his own first visit
Triebschen. Nietzsche wrote that since their first meeting Wagnetor
had given his life new direction:
It is an incomparable good fortune for one who has been feeling and
.
stu�bhng along on dark and foreign paths to be led gradually into
the lIght, as you have done with me. I cannot therefore honor you in
any other way than as a father. So I celebrate your birthday also as a
celebration of my own birth.47

Nietzsche vowed to open a new calendar, measured in the five year

periods that the Romans called lustra, and to celebrate a "lustra­
tion" in honor of Wagner's influence upon him-a festival of hope
and rebirth.
This parallels Nietzsche's celebration of Schopenhauer, whom
he praises as a father and an educator. The essay suggests that
Schopenhauer had educated Nietzsche for independence, and not
for slavish devotion. Schopenhauer had helped Nietzsche discover
his own unique abilities. Nietzsche obviously hoped that he would
soon be able to thank Wagner for the same sort of fatherly assis­
tance. But he was still unsure of his ability to sustain his indepen­
dence of Wagner, and he had evidence that Wagner was )
� ninte�ested in fostering independence. The depth and complex­
Ity of.NIetzsche's attachment to Wagner is apparent in the birthday
greetIng, where he merges their birthdays and measures both him­
sel� and Wagner by their relationship of master and disciple. And
whIle he clearly meant this to praise Wagner, his letter remains a
strange and solemn greeting. A sense of oppression clings to it.48
In the same letter Nietzsche went on to the already treacherous
subject of a visit to Bayreuth, where he had been summoned to '
spend the summer.49 He had several projects in hand, he wrote;
"Creativity has its obligations." Nietzsche was now pointing out
that his own creativity iInposed obligations, preventing him from
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 75

Nevertheless, he wrote, he would prob­

following Wagner's advice. summ
ably come sometime that Wagneer.5r Just� Signifi ca�tly, Nietzsche �id
not specify in this letter to what hIS current creatIve
projects were. . he to
Wagner had enliste d Gersdorff to help persuadee NIetzsc
spend the summer in Bayreu th. To him N �et�sc�� �plai.n�d that
he had first to finish his third Untime ly Medztatwn. HIS wrItIng was
going well, he wrote, "but it woul� �eHe a sh�me if I should :uin it or
not wa�t t� In,�errupt
forget it," just to pay Wagner a VISIt.g nowdId
except finIshIng. When
his work: "I cannot think of anythinBasel unless Nietzsche went to
Gersdorff threatened not to visit
Bayreuth, Nietzsche responded testily:
me to visit
How ever did you get the idea, good friend, of forcing
to go on
Bayreuth with a threat? It almost looks as if I would not want
year be­
my own. And yet I was there twice last year and twice the
We both
fore-travell ing from Basel and in my p itiful vacatio ns.
think it
know that Wagner's nature is very mistrustful. But I did not
about the
would be good to provok e his mistrus t. And finally: think
lt to fulfill,
fact that I have duties to myself, duties that are very difficu �
c
me.
and with my poor health. Really, no one should try to l.orce

Nietzsche had admitted that Wagner might be to toblame for their

difficulties. Of course the letter was not addres sed Wagne r.
Later inJuly Nietzsche realized that he would be inishe d spend
able to
a portion of his vacation in Bayreuth.53 .A.nd he had� �In Augusat.firstHe
draft of his essay before he went to VISIt Wagne sending a final
would of course have to make some revisio ns before
version to his publisher in September, but writing a compl ete draft
was enough to ' convince him that he could todof ce justice to
Schopenhauer. Perhaps that gave him the courag e � Wagner
once again. Now he could also hope to come to terms wIth Wagner
in a similar, fourth Untimely Meditation. In any case, inationhetowent
when to
Bayreuth in August 1874, he went with a determ assert
his independence. In a more critical frame of mind dthahIS?- ever be­
fore, he was planning to test Wagne r's toleran ce-an own de-
termination.
Nietzsche had also become interested in the music ofJohannes
Brahms. InJuly 1874,just a few weeks before Nietzs che was to leave
for Bayreuth, Brahm s gave severa l concer ts of his own �usic in
Basel, including his Triumphlied. Nietzs che had been lookIng for-
1 76 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

ward to these concerts since April, studying the scores to prepare

himself. When the time arrived, his "aesthetic conscience," as he
termed it, was put to a difficult test.54 But he formed what he
thought was an independent, favorable judgment of Brahms'
music, and he took a copy of the Triumphlied with him when he
went to Bayreuth. Nietzsche could hardly have been ignorant of
Wagner's contempt for Brahms. Nevertheless, he forced a discus�
sion. According to one account, he placed the red-bound
Triumphlied on Wagner's piano and waited to see the master's reac­
tion. Wagner flew into a rage, as anyone might have predicted.
Nietzsche himself, according to this account, maintained a caIin
and dignified silence.55
This was the time when Nietzsche wrote of Wagner in his jour­
nal, "the tyrant admits no other individuality than his own." Obvi­
ously Wagner could not accept the existence of another musical
genius_56 No wonder he could also not accept Nietzsche's creative
impulses. In Bayreuth Nietzsche had deliberately tested Wagner's
tolerance of his independent judgment, and Wagner's response
had confirmed his fears. But while Nietzsche felt tyrannized by
Wagner, this awareness was still overshadowed by the awe and grat­
itude that he felt for the composer. So he kept his impressions to
himself. And by avoiding another visit to Bayreuth for almost two
years, Nietzsche postponed the final break.57 Instead, he went back
to Basel, and revised Schopenhauer as Educator.
This work provides neither introduction, explanation, nor cri­
tique of Schopenhauer's philosophy. The lack of information is
odd, but Nietzsche had a reason not to write a critique of
Schopenhauer's philosophy. As he had stated several years earlier"
one simply does not refute a moral exemplar. Nietzsche's concern
was the formation of the intellectual and moral personality.
model of education was the relationship of master and disciple,
and Schopenhauer as Educator commemorates Schopenhauer's influ­
ence upon Nietzsche. It presents this relationship didactically, as a
model of how one becomes a creative individual.
Beyond what Nietzsche could deduce from Schopenhauer's
books, he himself knew very little about Schopenhauer's life. So, as
he freely admitted, he felt compelled "to . . . imagine the living man
. . . who promised to make his heirs only those who would . . . be
more than merely his readers, namely his sons and pupils."58
Schopenhauer had been a very personal fantasy for Nietzsche, and,
he cast Schopenhauer in the role of surrogate father. Nietzsche's
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 77

'�Schopenhauer" became everything that Nietzsche desired in a fa­

therly. educator. But Nietzsche did not regard his need for a fa­
c therly mentor as a personal idiosyncr asy or a symptom of weakness
in his personality, nor was he reluctant to put his own discipleship
forward as an example.
. Nietzsche began his account of Schopenhauer's fatherly influ-
ence with the romantic cliche that everyone is unique, but that very
"like every
few realize their individuality.59 He himself, and heard the youthful
soul," had recognized his own unique talents inner
call to liberate himself from convention before he he discovered
Schopenhauer. Yet he had floundere d, even though was not lazy
or dissolute; nor was he tempted to conform. Rather, he was uncer�
and how he
tain about which of his talents he should cultivate, he sustained
could refrain from becoming a mere specialist. But
hope:
I believed that, when the time came, I would discover a philosopher to
educate me, a true philosopher whom one could follow without any
misgiving because one would have more faith in him than one had i n
oneself. . . . That educating philosopher of whom I dreamed would, I
came to think, not only uncover the central force [of an individual] ,
he would also know how to prevent its acting destructively on the
other forces: his educational task would, it seemed to me, be to mould
the whole man. ,,60

Nietzsche had found his philosopher and edll:�ator in Scho­

penhauer, and he was convinced that there was a gen:eral need for
such genius-educators.
Schopenhauer became Nietzsche's genius not merely because
he wrote great books, but because he was a variously gifted man
who had resisted the influence of his times and overcome the temp­
tation to indulge all his interests and dissipate his energies.
Schopenhauer had fashioned himself as the "whole" and creative
individual who could write such books. "Wholeness" was an obses­
sion with nineteenth-century German educators, a defensive re­
sponse to the explosion of knowledge and especially specialization.
It was usually thought to be the desirable result of an education at
a humanistic Gymnasium. But Schopenhauer had somehow made
himself "whole." Thus he could serve as a moral exemplar to others,
who would in turn fashion their own whole and unique selves. He
1 78 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

was a genius to inspire other geniuses such as Wagner, and even

perhaps Nietzsche himself.
Nietzsche knew that he, like Schopenhauer, was born with intel­
ligence, talents, and personality. But like Schopenhauer, he saw '
that he had to form himself, with all his native capacities, into a
creative
.
individual. In a phrase that Nietzsche would later use
promInent Iy, he had to "become who he was," and Schopenhau er's
example in this was crucial to him. This is the underlying message
as
of Schopenhauer Educator. Putting forward such a perverse philos­
opher as Schopenhauer, rather than a more obviously benevolent
figure and unproblematic character like Goethe, for example, im­
plied a new view of the creative personality.
Nietzsche had quie�ly red�fined t�e �enius in this essay:
Schopenhauer was a genIUS by vIrtue of hIS WIll, not his birth. He is
an absolutely unique and separate individual; he contains within
himself the possibility of revolutionizing the way we all see the
world; �e is precocious, coming to his original vision at an early
age; he �s not a scholar and d�es not achieve his insight through
academIc study; he prepares hImself In. part through the stimula­
tion of another genius (Goethe); he is largely unrecognized by his
contemporaries. But Nietzsche goes beyond these "naive" cliches
about the genius being "born, not made," to show that
Schopenhauer voluntarily created himself as a genius. Nietzsche's
S �hopenhauer is therefore a self-conscious and "sentimental" ge­
nIUS. And thus, almost incidentally, Nietzsche added another god­
like quality to the definition of the genius.
The idea that Schopenhauer willed his achievement constitutes
not only a significant departure from the traditional theory of the
genius; it is also a dramatic demonstration that Nietzsche did not
now subscribe to Schopenhauer's philosophy. For Schopenhauer's I
own thinking issued into an almost Buddhistic negation of desire
and the will. But Schopenhauer's life, in Nietzsche's view at least,
was a continuous struggle in which the philosopher prevailed only
by a monumental effort of will, first against his contemporaries,
then against his mentors, and finally against himself. And
Nietzsche, in order to strengthen his own will to overcome the chal�
lenges that faced him, emulated a man who-he imagined-had al�
ready found the strength to overcome them. .
. Citing asserts
NIetzsche
Wagner as well as Schopenhauer for his examples,
that "the genius must not fear to enter into the '
most hostile relationship with the existing forms and order if he
 1 79
Strugglefor Autonomy

wants, , to bring to ligh tisthenothigh er order and trut� that dwells with to
in
the
ely the appropnate . ? � va- resp o s
him . 61 This hostilitycontempmer orar ies fail to app.reclate hIS Inno
fa. ct that a genius'sly supposed. Rath er, the genI US. mus t go on the
tIons, as common .
, attacking the world In whIch hand ·
e fiIn ds h 1m-
ffensive from the first from with in, ?ecome
�elfex. Onl y in this way can he attain a unity, of
generatio n. This course, was an aImp era-
an ample to anote'sherown rience was gradually reve 1·InIsely g to
tive that Nietzschming convexpe d that creative genius lay preC con-
.
him . H e was beco ve hostince ility between oneself and one's
in creating a producti
temporaries. come the influence of the fewt,
Scho penhauer had also to over icularly that of Immanuel Kanef.
mentors he acknowledged, lypart Critique of Pure Reason-had
whose critiques-particular e The itional
fectively discredited eany hop of attaining truth in the trad who
sense. And Nietzsch depptin icts Schopenhauer as the only gone
took Kant seriously, acce haugerthewasimpdete ossibility of knowin "things
as they are." But Schopen performed a criti rmined to reach a deeper
truth, and to do that he ying the will as the que of Kant focu sing
upon the human will. Stud Schopenhau er foun one phenomenon
d that the will
we have of kno g t�e world i�­
that we can know and analress yze,
produces the illusory imp ionrtur win
self. That was the point of depa e for Scho penhauer s own phI­.
losophy, which was of course radi cally different from that of Kan �
phI­
This departure was crucial fortheNiet zsch e, who se own mat ure
losophy is also focu sed upo n will . But wha� mat�ered mo�e to
Nietzsche was the personal relanha tionship that he ImagIned obtameIned
between the two men: Schope com uer, a disciple ofKa-nt, beca anf
original philosopher ' by overof thisingrelahis master's system �
thought. Nietzsche's depictionhauer. It wasti�In NIet nsh is a t�op� of hIS
.ip zsch
own relationship to Scho pen genius must pass. e s vIew the
second test that every creative hauer had to overcome with in him-
The obstacle that Schopen d, and the third test facing every
self is another that Nietzsche face zsche that Sch openhauer's natu­
genius. It seemed apparent to Niet he seemed to · have an almosty
ral endowment was ambiguous- genius and sainthood. L �ke mannt
equal capacity for philosophical"mi ented." H.is �chle:eme
geniuses, Sch openhauer was hes-tal came thIS dlspanty and
seemed to Nietzsche to be that creaover
forged himself into an integratedhical gen tive person. He determine�
to realize himself as a philosop ius and incorporated hIS
1 80 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

inclination to saintliness in that ambition. He did not permit him­

self to be diverted by the disparity in his natural inclinations. This
was precisely what Nietzsche himself had worried about-that lYe
might be pulled apart by his talents and not realize himself as a
whole and integrated individual. And the solution was also his
own, to resolve his talents into a single project by an exercise of
will. This is another very specific sense in which Schopenhauer, as
a "sentimental genius," served Nietzsche as a moral exemplar.
Nietzsche compares Schopenhauer's striving to realize his in.
tellectual potential to the aspirations of a sinner for sainthood..
This, according to Nietzsche, is what every genius does:
Every human being is accustomed to discovering in himself some lim·
itation of his talent or of his moral will, which fills him with melan·
choly and longing; and just as his feeling of sinfulness makes him long
for the saint in him, so as an intellectual being he harbors a profound
desire for the genius in him. This is the root of all true culture; and if
I understand by this the longing of a man to be reborn as saint and
genius, I know that one does not have to be a Buddhist to understand
this myth.62

Once reborn, Schopenhauer is a Buddha of sorts, a Christ, and

kind of savior, as well as a fatherly educator to those who follow
him. This was no casual allusion on Nietzsche's part. In many other
places in Schopenhauer as Educator Nietzsche refers to Schopenhauer
and geniuses in general as "redemptive men." By their example in
shaping themselves as integrated, creative individuals, they show
the way to younger men.
The idea of the genius as a (demi)god was a constituent element
of the naive theory of genius that arose in the eighteenth century.
In fact the genius-concept was introduced to replace the more lit· )
eral savior for the more or less secular class of intellectuals that
emerged in that century-the philosophes. The naive and the roman·
tic genius was hence a savior of originality, creativity, and culture
in general, not of the individual soul.
And while Nietzsche subscribed to all of this, he had something
additional and more concrete in mind when he classified
Schopenhauer as a "redemptive man." He was attempting to clarify
the process by which a young man could be transformed from a
commonplace individual into a genius. He was tentatively experi·
menting with a theory of the genius as "made, not born." In l1is'
own experience, getting to the point where he could make a cre·
 Struglg eJOT Autonomy 181

a tive contribution involved not merely native intelligence, high as·

.

irations, and diligent study ; he had also needed a genIUS as a men ·

for airing
nd moral exemplar. Only through emul
rede emed from his
ating a geniu
own
s could an
limitation s and the
sp individual be . In this sense, as an objec
�ppopen
osition of the world
Nietzsche as a rede mer.
t of emulation ,
sch hauer had served from hims elf and
�
hIS contemporane. s by
. The geniu s, rede emed n.
the example of the the genius preceding him, justifies his generatio
The genius creates ment al worl d in whic h the next generat�on
will live, including that generatio n's geniu s. And this progreSSIon
of genius is what constitute s history. History is a genealogy of ge·
niuses. Thus Nietzsche accor ds creative cultural figures such asn.
Schopenhauer much greatBism er importance than he does prime miSIg· .
ister s like Prin ce Otto von arck, 63 and he gran ts far great er
nificance to works of philoindu sophy and art than he does to
developments in finance and stry.
.
.

Nietzsche wrote a fourth Untimely Meditationit, inRichard Wagner in

the summer of
Bayreuth, but he only finish ed and publ ished
1 876. There was therefore a hiatus of a year and
a half between
1 874, when he publ ished both On the Uses and Disad vantage ofHis tory
as
for Life and Schopenhauer Educator, and the fourt h and fin�l Un·
timely Meditation. In that time Nietzsche struggled to defin
e hImself
and his future as a writer-and worrthe ied about his relationship with
Wagner. Even as he contemplated ofessay on Wa.gner and �ade
notes for it, he returned to the subject pre·S ocraJIc Greek phIlo s·
ophy, which he had neglected since Trag 1 873 when- - Wagner con·
demned his essay on "Philosophy in thetwo front ic Age of the Greeks."
He began again to think and write onwhat he wrot s.
Nietzsche would never publ ish e on the Greeks
and philosophy at this time, but it provides at least one clue to his
intellectual development. "Science and Wisdom at Odds" (or "The
Struggle Between Science and Wisd and om") , which he wrote in 1 875,
is another return to questions of tragedy phica the creative energy of
moment as well.
the early Greeks.64 But it has an autobiograeditors lthou
In one of the final fragments, which early sche wroteght might be
a 4raft of an introduction to the work, Nietz as follows:
when he stand s b e·
Ther e undo ubted ly come s for every man an hour
and asks: "How does one mana ge to live at
fore himse lf with wond er
1 82 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

all? Nevertheless one does live!" It is the hour when he begins to corn.
prehend that he possesses an inventive facuIty similar to the kin d that
h e admIres '
.
m p I ants, an mventiveness which twists and climbs u n tI' l
. . .
.

fiIna II y It .lOrCI
C ' bl y gams a bIt of light for itself and a small earthly k ' '-
dom a well, thus it�el creating i s p.ortion of delight from barren
� : �
In one s own descnptIOns of one s hfe there is always a point like thOIS ..
s�N�
. .
a pomt w here one IS amazed that the plant can continue to live an d
the way it nevertheless sets to work with unflinching valor. Then the :
are careers, such as that of the thinker, in which the difficultie s have
become enormously great. And when something' is related conc ern·
' .
lng careers of thIS sort one must listen attentively, because from such
cases one learns something concerning the possibilities of l ife. And 'us
to hear about these possibilities leads to greater happiness n ��
strength.65

Thi� w�s Nietzsche's own situation: almost disabled by illness, yet

begInnIng �o acknowledge his own inventiveness, launching a ca.
r�er as a. thInker, he was twisting up to the'light through enormous
d�fficultles that h.e could hardly define. The careers that inspired
hIm and gave hIm strength were those of Schopenhauer and
Wagner of c?urse, but now also those of the early Greek philoso­
phers, especIally Heraclitus. In "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of
the Greeks," Heraclitus even began to appear as an alternative to
Wagner. Nietzsche was now beginning to realize that it was Wagner
who was blocking his light.
In the years 1 874 to 1 876 Nietzsche's health deteriorated "to
t�e �oi�� of determinin� his working capacity and the pattern of -
hIS l ��e. . �he symptoms Incl�?ed severe headaches, eye pain, nau- '
sea, colIc, and general debIlIty. Some of these complaints dated
from early adolescence, others from his service as a medical or­ )
derly in the Franco-Prussian War. But in 1 875 they must have been
aggra;ated by t?� mounting tension between his loyalty to Wagner
and hIS own stnvIng for independence.
Wor�y and ill health brought Nietzsche to the point of collapse
. the
In WInter of 1 875. He had to ask his sister to come to Basel to
care for him, which she did that summer. But even with Elisabeth to
run his household in Basel, Nietzsche found that he could not carry
on with his teaching. OnJanuary 2, 1 876, he requested a substitute
to take over his high school courses at the Paedagogium, and in
Februar.y he. discontinued his lectures at the University as well.
HaVIng Interrupted his teaching, Nietzsche decided to take a
"cure." It was common for educated middle-class people to t�ke a
 Struggle/or Autonomy 1 83

tesort cure when an undiagnosed malady becamine Europ intolerable .

There were still many undefined illnesses at large e, and
doctors were much less confident in pharm acolo gical cures than
they often recommended
they are today. Soa moun that their patie nts re­
treat to a spa or to take tain-lake resort for a change of scene ry, for
distraction, to rest, In themine ral baths, or long walks in the invig­
orating mountain air. Foressumm er of 1875 Nietzsche had gone to
Steinabad in the Blackspecialt,dietwhere he was attended by a physi­
cian who prescribed a d to go indep and monitored his cure.67 Now,
wante
in 1 876, Nietzsche seems endently to Lake Geneva
'
simply to hike. He to have been desperately seeking an es­
cape-from his illnes s, hisjob, and his frustrating relationship with
Wagner. friendly letter
Nietzsche was already planning this trip whenouta his woes to his
from Carl von Gersdorffprompletter ted him to pour
friend in an almo st incoherent in mid:J anua ry 1 876:

After ever more frequent attacks, it came to a literal collapse, I could

no longer doubt that I am suffering from a serious brain illness, and
that my eyes and stomach have only suffered as a result of this central
process. My father died at thirty-six from a brain infection, and it is
possible that it will go even faster with me.6H

He goes on to say that he has been reliev ed of his teaching at the

Paedagogium, that he is subsisting on milk alone, and that he is
planning a retreat to the mountains nearletterGeneva in March. He asks
Gersdorff to keep the contents of the ers. Appa to h,�mself, however,
and above all not to dJsturb the Wagnt like to come rently as an after­
thought, he wonders if Gersdorff migh with him.69
Gersdorffwas indeed able to take a vacation from his duties as
a military office r. So Nietz sche travel led to Lake
Geneva with him
in early March, leaving mother and sister reux, andBasel
behin d in . They sta­
tioned themselves in Veytaux, near Monttheir days hikingugh altho the
weather was cold and rainy, they spent this terribly distressed in the
nearby mountain valleys, and talking.70 In of his own
state of mind it is difficult to know precisely howd much orff.
preoccupations Nietzsche would have share whetherGersd with
he could
Nietzsche must have discu ssed his doubts about gs of inade quacy
attend the Bayreuth Festival as well as his feelin
about writing an essay on Wagner. But he may not have voice d his
disillusion with Wagner himself. For Nietzsche, critic al thoug hts
 1 84 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

about Wagner had always n accompanied by self-doubts

he wrote in his first letter tobeeGer sdo rff after his retu rn to Bas
_ He Was
namely, spiritually sick."71 For his part, Gersdorff seems to el, " sick
on the role of patient listener. He did not try to contradicthave
or press false optimism upon him as he had on earlier occ Nietzsche
After three weeks of strenuous walking, Gersdorff left asions.72
enna, where he planned to see a production of Wagner's for Vi
Wagner himself wou ld be there to conduct, but there Lohengrin.,
ently not even any discussion between Nietzsche and was appar­
about Nietzsche's going to Vienna. Nietzsche had enj oyeGersdorff
spite from his headaches and misery on this trip, but he d little re­
in Veytaux for another week. He hiked, visited Voltaire's stayed on
at Ferney, and steeled himself for a visit to the city residence
where he planned to visit the Kapellmeister Hugo von SenofgerGeneva,
The final portion of Nietzsche's month-long cure-his . i
Geneva-proved unexpectedly eventfu l.73 Senger was vis t to
Wagnerian whom Nietzsche first met in Bayreuth. He also another
The Birth oj Tragedy, and had called upo admired
n Nie tzsc he
the year. Senger arranged his concert program so that lier inin Bas el ear
could hear some Berlioz during his visit. But quite unintentioNietzsche
also introduced Nietzsche to the first woman to whom he nally, he
pose marriage: Mathilde Trampedach. (The only other waswould pro.
Salome, to whom Nietzsche proposed in 1 882. She too was Lou von
with another man who was a friend of Nietzsche-Pau involved
strikingly beautiful Mathilde was not quite twenty-three yeal Ree.) The
and her younger sister were piano students of Senger. Andrs old. She
the forty-year-old Senger was still married (to his seco although ,
mother of his two daughters), he and Mathilde were already nd wife, the
Mathilde would eventually become Senger's third wife. intimate.
Shortly after Nietzsc arrival, Senger brought him to visi
two sisters at their penhe's sion . It cau ght Nie tzsc he' s atte
1
t the
Mathilde was able and anxious to enter into their conver that ntio n
Shakespeare and certain English Romantic poe ts. After sation on

more brief encounters, all in less than a week's time, onl y two
abruptly penned a proposal of marriage. He hoped Nietzsche
would answer him, he wrote, by the following morning Mathilde
left for Basel. As Mathilde described him, the shy scholabefore he
ing under his dark green felt-lined parasol to protect his r-cower­
the light-cut a rather ridiculous figure. He had not ma eyes from
tic impression on the gregarious and free-spirited youde a roman.
So his proposal surprised her. And withou t realizing ng wom(in.�
it-because
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 85

as' ever noticed the affection that existed between Mathilde and
�:�er-Nietzsche also angered his woul.d.be friend. The whole ep'
�

k'
e isode displays the social ineptitude of thIS awkward .man.
With his career in Basel coming to an end, NIe�zsche would
hav had no income or social position to offer a WIfe. anyway-
e
i­ nothing but his intellect. For )ust that reason, however, It IS. under-
n., standable that Nietzsche mIght make a desperate proposal of
ff
­ marriage at precisely this time. Nietzsche has a reputat�. on as a mI-.
'st but he had in the abstract contemplated marnage several
n
­ :��'d�ring his years in Basel. The Wagners and Gersdorff h�d
recommended it to him on the gTounds that it would settle hIm
down emotionally, and even improve hIS. wnt1 . . � g! 0 verb eck ,
Rohde, Gersdorff, in fact all of Nietzsche's com� anlons were con­
templating marriage now, threatening to lea�e hI� the .only bache­
lor. He was, furthermore, aware that his relatlons� Ip with Wagner,
Cosima, and the entourage at Bayreuth was cO�Ing to an end. So
Nietzsche acknowledged the desirability of findIng a mate-prefer­
ably a wealthy one-who could organize his household, take c�re of
him in his ill health, and even liberate him from the necessIty of
continuing to teach. . were only too ratIonal,.
Nietzsche's considerations of marnage
however. He asked his sister and other friends if they could not
find some eligible heiress for him to marry. Yet he seemed to lack
any emotional, romantic, or sexual interest in.wo� en. Only on t�o
occasions, when the figure of a particularly VIvaCIOUS w?man WIth
intellectual aspirations penetrated his veil of sh�ness, .dld he actu­
ally become excited about a woman. And even thls_��C1tement may
not have been precisely romantic. ,
Nietzsche reached out to Mathilde Trampedach as If. for salva­
tion from his fate, or simply toward a new beginning. He may even
have seen a potential disciple in her, for she was i.ntel�ectually acute
as well as personally attractive.74 But when the Ine�Itable but gra­
cious rejection came from Mathilde, Nietzsche rephed that he w�s
embarrassed, and hoped she would not reme�be.r him only for thIS
awkward incident.75 But then in a letter to hIS fnend Gersdorff he
returned to treat the subject of marriage with what can only be
called foolish pride: "We don't want to sully our characte� [with a
conventional marriage]; ten thousand times rather remaIn alone
forever-that's my solution to the problem now."76 He could no
longer admit the genuine excitement he had felt a few days before.
He did not even acknowledge that he had proposed.
1 86 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Nietzsche, in fact, was better suited to the motherly attentions

of older women than he was to romance, and he did establish two
friendships with older women in the mid 1870s. Marie Baumgart.
ner,17 the mother of one of his students, and the vaguely Wagnerian
cosmopolite Malwida von Meysenbug,18 were both motherly confi­
dants to him. They did much to sustain Nietzsche in this time of
illness and of approaching separation from Wagner. They gave
him much of what he hoped to gain from a marriage.79
Nietzsche benefited enormously from the Geneva trip. Being
away from Basel, hiking, talking out with Gersdorff his difficulties
with the Wagner essay and his own self-doubt, seem to have done
his spirit good. The measure of this is the fact that he was in a very
positive frame of mind on his return to Basel. Apparently he re�
solved to overcome-by force of will-his depression, cynicism,
and self-doubt. He was in a decisive mood, ready to make a grand
gesture:
In the main I have realized this much: the only thing that all men rec­
ognize and respect is the high-minded deed. D on't for anything in the
world take one step toward accommodation! One can only have gn�at
success if one remains true to oneself. 80
,.

The first Bayreuth Festival was scheduled for August of 1876, a

bare four months from the time Nietzsche returned from his cure
in Switzerland.81 Wagner had finally completed composition on
The Ring of the Nibelungen. And thanks to the financial assistance of
King' Ludwig II of Bavaria, the Festival Theater in Bayreuth was·
nearly complete as well, so Wagner's great work would finally be
produced in its entirety, and in the circumstances envisioned by
the artist. The Festival would mark the climax of Wagner's artistic Y
career, and Richard Wagner in Bayreuth was to be Nietzsche's contri­
bution to the celebration.
Nietzsche may also have hoped to resolve his discipleship to
Wagner with this essay. He had been making notes for an essay
about Wagner at least since 1874. Nietzsche's chief criticism of
Wagner in his 1874 notebooks was that Wagner was fundamentally
an actor and a dilettante. By calling him a dilettante he meant that
in addition to composing music Wagner pretended to be a poet, a
dramatist, and so on. According to Nietzsche's notes, "His music i�
not worth much, nor is his poetry, nor is his plot, the dramaturgy is
often mere rhetoric . . . . " Nietzsche complements these reserva-
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 87

'ons with the acknowledgment that Wagne r's music, poetry, plot,
. �tc. all'do work together. Butof the arts he practIc
Nietzs che had d� cided that Wagner
ed. He was funda­
W s not a genius at any one d the "effect" of genius . He was a char-
m : ntally an actor who create .
in effect, to impe.rso.n��e �en�� s.82 H. IS' very
latan whose talent was,critiqu
eXample constituted a centur e of the belIef In naIve genIus . .
In the late nineteenth y the term " actor" was an epIthe t
and a slur. Theatrical life was though t to be sc�ndalous by its :ery
ature, and an actor was presumed unfit for polIte company-lI ttle
�ore than a whore . To be an actor meant to dissimulate, to assume
or no character ?f one's.
and discard identities, and to have littlenate, extravagant, Immod.
own. To be an actor meant to beraIned passio
. 3 ' he relerred
.8' Wh en N Ietzsc C
est, and in most respects unrest s c:eatI�e .

Wagner's "actor nature," he meant to specif� Wagner tatIon

,

to
ersonality, but he did not exclude these negatI ve conno s.
P Nietzs che saw that Wagner's immod esty was that of a man con-
VI'nced he was a genius. "The cult of the genius, nourished by
85 '
Schopenhauer," emboldened Wagner in hiscult arrogance. � Ietzsch e
realized, perhaps for the first time, that the of the genIUS w�s a
symptom of the modern malaise, where . God dead and artIsts
was
attempted to impersonate and replace hIm:
ageme nt or
Wagner is a moder n man, incapa ble of derivin g encour
is in the
strength from a belief in God. He does not �elie: e t at he�
�Q!:>o y-
safekee ping of a benevo lent being, hut,he belIeve s 1 0 hlmselL
�
t ld
�!� ��I���:ii�!:���i:;I�i�i�a�;'�::,!�: �
���;:� .

peo�le, �v­
And again, "He f!leasures the state, society, virtue, thefeels
erything by the standard of his art; and whenever heche might dIssatIs­
fied, he wishes the world would go under."87 Nietzs e a law unto have
generalized: in modern culture the genius has becom
himself.
Nietzsche's characterization of Wagner's follow ers is even less
flattering. All of them were attracted precisely by Wagne r's less ad­
mirable qualities. Many of them were cynica lly. motiva ted to attach
themselves to him because of the aura of genIUS that he began to
acquire.
ting as
How did Wagner get his followers? Singers who beca� e interes
achIeve effects, per-
dramatic actors and found a brand-n ew chance to
 1 88 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

haps with an inferior voice. Musician s who were able to learn

from
the Master of performance . . . . Orchestral musicia ns who prev
iou sl
were bored. Musicians who intoxicated or bewitched the public
rect manner and now learned the color-effects of the Wagnerian
in a dr
orche�. ·
tra. All sorts o f discontented people who hoped for personal gai
n fro
every coup. People who go into raptures over every kind of so-
"progress." Those who were bored with all existing music and
cal1e�
no
found their nerves more powerful ly stirred. . . . Literary men
with a
sorts of reformist ambitions. Artists who admire his way of living
�
inde.
pendently.88

This whole passage is full of scorn for Wagnerians and the side of
�agner that the� found �ttractive. But its more poignant mean
IS revealed only In what IS absent from the list, namely, anyoneinat­g
tracted to Wagner by his tragic vision, or transformed and
bled by his work in any way. More than scornfu l, Nietzsche feltenvenory­
much alone in his discipleship. .
Nietzsche terms the lack of a receptive audience Wagner's pri­
mary difficulty.89 The problematic relationship of artist and lic
was part of the romantic idea of the genius. But Nietzsche pub
the point that the higher significance Wagner ascribed to artmakandes
. '
partIcularly to his own art, simply did not interest the public:
There is somethi ng comic in Wagner's inability to persuad e the
Ger·
mans to take the theater seriously . They remain cold and unmoved­
he gets worked up as though their salvation depende d on
it.
Nowa ays especial ly, the German s believe that they are engaged
� in
more Importa nt matters. And someone who concern s himself so sol­
emnly with art strikes them as an amusing eccentri c.90

Wagner had simply misjudged his contemporaries and there was )

no hope for the revolutionary transformation that Nietzsche had
so ardently desired to see.
This is a thoroughly damning view of Wagner, his followers,
�nd the German public. It constitutes not only a burst of insight
Into Wagner's often unpleasant character-which Nietzsche had
strictly ignored in favor of his idealization of the composer-but
also represents a spasm of disillusion in the most literal sense. Hav­
in� entertained unrealistic hopes, Nietzsche now felt hopeless.
ThIs was the root of the "skepticism" and moral illness that he com­
plained of, and the psychological source of the virtual nerv<;>us
breakdown that Nietzsche experienced at that time.
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 89

So in the Spring of 1 876, when Nietzsche returned from Swit­

erland and finally began to write R ichard Wagner in Bayreuth,

'
�e facedhada formidab le challeng
in writing The Birth
e. He wrote fitfully,
still
agonizin
vacillatin g
g much
about
. as he of Tragedy,
whether he could publish what he was writing. He could not simply
rej ect the master's aesthetic "system" and praise Wagner as .a moral
exempl ar, as he had done in his essay on Schopen hauer. NIetzsche
was now very critical of both the man Wagner and his work. But to
write a eulogy of Wagner for the first Festival he would have to pra­
ise both. Could he manage this without simply suppressing the in-
si ghts that he had recorded in his notebooks? begIns
Nietzsche's published paean to Wagner . expectantly
enough with the thought that "for an event to possess greatness two
things must come together: greatness of spirit in those who accom­
pli sh it, and greatness of spirit in those who exp �rience it.'.' The event
under consideration was the Bayreuth FestIval, obvIously . Yet
Nietzsche hesitates to assure his readers that all is well with the audi­
ence for Wagner's art. Rather, he frets, "Whenever we see [such] an
event approaching we are overcome with the fear that those who ex­
perience it will be unworthy of it." This fear pertains not only to the
audience:
Even the deed of a man great in himself lacks greatness if it is brief
and without resonance or effect; for at the moment he performed it
he must have been in error as to its necessity at precisely that time: he
failed to take correct aim and chance became master over h 1m. · 91

Failure to find resonance in an audience with "greatne ss of spirit"

would ultimately mean lack of greatness in the artist-even in
Wagner's case. Thus Nietzsche calls the greatness of Wagner's life­
work at least momentarily into question.
Nietzsche may have questioned Wagner' s greatness only to re�f-
firm it. From Schopenhauer he borrowed the metaphor of the artist
aiming at a target; the philosopher had said that a genius could hit not
only targets that others could not reach, but ones that others could
not even see. Nietzsche uses this metaphor to explain both Wagner's
achievement and the resistance to it:
That a single individual could, in the course of an ave�age h� m � n
lifespan, produce something altogether new may well excite the Indig­
nation of those who cleave to the gradualness of all evolution as
1 90 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

though t� a kind of moral law: they themselves are slow and dem and
slowness m others-and here they see someone moving very fast' d
not know how he does it, and are angry with him, For such an u n d er·0

tak mg
' as tha at ayreuth here were no warning signs, no transi tio n l
� � � �
�vents, nothmg mtermedlate; the long path t? the goal, and the goal
, the first CIrcumnavigation
Itself, ? one knew ut Wag�er. It IS
� of the
globe In the domam of art,92

This is typical of romantic descriptions of genius, saved from cliche

only by Schopenhauer's metaphor, But while it reaffirms that
Wagner was "a man great in himself," it does not suggest that
�agner� s work enjoyed the resonance of a great and comprehend­
In,g audlen�e, In fact, Wagner's relationship to his public was, for
N Ietz�ch,e, Inextricable from Nietzsche's understanding of himself
as a dISCIple of Wagner, As a disciple, Nietzsche's identity was em­
bedded in his conception of Wagner's public, and vice versa,
I� 1 876 Nie,tzsche was confronted by rapid growth in Wagner's
pubhc, and hIS reaction was ambivalent, On the one hand
Nietzsche seems to have wanted Wagner to remain unrecognized
excep,t to a s� all and select coterie of followers, including himself
espeCIally_ NIetzsche congratulates himself upon being one of the
few who had believed in Wagner from the first moment he met
'
h'1m.93 Wagner h Imselfhad said that his work would be appreciated
on,IY, by /select few, Now in 1 876, as Wagner seemed finally to be
galnI�g the acceptance of the German public at large, Nietzsche
acts hke a child correcting an inconsistent parent: "but you said.
. . ." In 1 872 he had been one of the few believers. He had ridden
with �he family in �agner's carriage to the dedication. Now he pro­
tests Inwardly agaInst the throngs of superficial enthusiasts gather�
ing around Wagner.
On the other hand, Nietzsche was so deeply affected by Wagner
that he expected Wagner's work to transform the whole generation
f new followers and redeem it from superficiality and material­
�Ism. � � would have been delighted to share Wagner with a larger
p� bh� If they too had been transformed by Wagner's influence, But
thIS dId not appear to be happening, Nietzsche wondered why
Wagner accepted the adulation of people who were not truly
t?uched by his work? Earlier he had blamed the unreceptive pub­
hc. But now he was prepared to be disappointed in Wagner if the
public was not magically transformed.
While he was implicitly challenging Wagner's authority,
 Strugglefor Autonomy 191

ing the traditional practice of out ge­

Nietzsche was actually challeng phet with
niu s, Nietzsche wancouted Wagner to go on being ay pro coul � be tr�ns­
hono; in his own ntry, unless all Ger man
nIze
ely accepted myth of the unrecogries , was d genIUS,
formed. But the wid ppreciated by contempora innovato a cui­
h ead of his time and una r
:uraalgeni
ruse that enab led the public toeven
us and accept him as such
recognize a radical
without fully understan�­
as unappreCI­
unrecognized, mis� nderstood,beand
in g his work. Beinggeni gnIzed by
ated was a sign of nize us. Thus a genIUS coul d recotion t�e
having been unrecog dd.geni Indeed an important func oteof thIS
myth of the unrecognize us, had always been to �rom ner,
recognition. Somethi ng like thIS had happenedtoWIth Wag
whose compositions hade.once seemed unmusical all a very but
few, including Nietzsch Butt-garcate gorized as Zukunjtsmusik, "the
music of the future" or avan nsdeofmus ic, they came gradually to
be understood as the innovatio a misu nderstood genius who
temporaries . Once that was mad e
' was beyond most of his con d about music-even the German Em­
known, everyone who careng
peror-wanted to be amo the connoisseurs who coul d under-
stand. but it was quite normal, and,ing by
Nietzsche was alarmed at this,perh aps even necessary. Hav
the logic of modern culture, unappreciated genius, 'Yagnet r
postured for so many years asg an the peop,le wh� fi�ally deCIded �I­
had very little role in selectincoul d not SImp ly InSIs t that the senS
acknowledge him as such . He
tive ones understand and the cras s ones keep their distance. Heit
art would finally g� t the attentioque
could only be gratified that his pers n
pective, it was a legit imat e s­
deserved. But from Nietzsche's supe al people , had beco m e �ol­
tion why so many unregeneratehis worrfici And thIS questIon , a ,
dIstI
enthusiastic about Wagner and cism ofk.Wag ner, crept into Richard
lationof Nietzsche's earlier criti
Wagner in Bayreuth.
Nietzsche's essay is nevertheless a work of devotion to Wagner.
It has often been read as a sycos pha ntic work. And only readers
privy to Nietzsche's critical note on Wag ner have noticed the sub­
tle aspersions that Nietzsche castrems upo n Wagner and the spectato rs
in Bayreuth. Thus the question ner' ains: How did Niet zsch e man ­
age to reconcile his insight into Wag s character with the task of
praising Wagner in this essay? inced himself-at least briefly-
Nietzsche seems to have conv characteristics that Wagner
that Wagner's defects were youthful
 1 92 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

had since overcome.94 In R ichard Wagner in Bayreuth Nietzs c he

asserts paradoxically that in Wagner's youth "he himself does no
yet seem to be present at all." As a youth Wagner was governed b�t
"a spirit of restlessness, of irritability, a nervous hastiness in seizi
hold upon a hundred different things, a passionate delight in expnge­
riencing moods of almost pathological intensity, an abrupt transi­
tion from the most soulful quietude to noise and violenc
Although these were characteristics that Nietzsche saw in Wagnee."r
in the 1870s, since he did not know Wagner in his youth, in th
published essay the real Wagner has emerged from these "riddles"e
and attained his own character by the time he reaches maturity.95
The mature Wagner was by no means perfect, however. It
only that the story of his life and the unfolding of his genius beginiss
with his maturity. And this story is a tempestuous drama. In �

Nietzsche's words,
As soon as [Wagner's] spiritual and moral maturity arrives, the dram a
of his life also begins. And how different he looks now! His nature
appears in a fearful way simplified, torn apart into two drives. . . .
Below there rages the precipitate current of a vehement will which . .
.

strives to reach up to the light through every runway, cave, and crev.
ice, and desires power.

This was potentially a tyrannical force, according to Nietzsche, that

could easily have made Wagner "irritable and unjust." Especially if
Wagner had not been granted success, his will might have filled
him with a passionate hatred and made him blame the world for his
failure[!]96
The other, opposing force that Nietzsche discerned in ' r
Wagner's character was Treue or loyalty. Nietzsche drew his evi­
dence for this not from Wagner's life-it was not particularly evi­
dent-but from his works. Acknowledging that the characters
invented by a writer do not necessarily represent him, he urges that
"a succession of figures upon whom he has patently bestowed his
love does tell us at any rate something about the artist." He argues
that Rienzi, the Dutchman, and Senta; Tannhauser and Elizabeth;
Lohengrin and Elsa; Tristan, Kurwenal, Marke, and Isolde; Hans
Sachs, Briinnhilde, and Wotan, all represent a growing current of
selfless loyalty in Wagner. And Nietzsche writes that this loyalty is
"the most personal and primal event that Wagner experiences
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 93

within himself and reveres like a religious mystery, . . . displaying it

in a hundred shapes."97
Loyalty is an interesting choice of a virtue to balance against
Wagner's self-seeking and tyrannical force of will. As a theme it is
often handled ambiguously, as in Tristan und Isolde, and it is cer­
tainly not the only theme of Wagner's works. It is, however, the
theme of Nietzsche's relationship to Wagner. Wagner had been
strangely (unnecessarily) concerned about Nietzsche's loyalty, and
Nietzsche himself had tried to prove above all else that he was a
disciple loyal to his master, willing to perform any service. At times
it seems he was more loyal to Wagner than to himself. But now he
was discovering the necessity of a higher loyalty, one to his own
creative powers. Nietzsche even suggests that Wagner's followers
� should be so renewed as to become creators in their own right.98
Wagner might remain an example, but no longer an ideal. The
struggle of loyalty depicted in Richard Wagner in Bayreuth is in some
m easure autobiographical, as Nietzsche later intimated.99
In depicting Wagner's character as a struggle between his pas­
sionate will and the principle of loyalty, however, Nietzsche
employed a conceit that he had devised for his essay on Scho­
penhauer: the genius in conflict with himself, creating himself by
overcoming some aspect of himself. This device enabled him not
only to make Wagner seem even greater for having tamed his tyran­
nical will, but to depict his life as a drama of romantic genius:
It was in the relationship of these two profound forces . . . in the sur·
render of the one to the other, that there lay the great necessity which
had to be fulfilled if [Wagner] was to be whole and whoUY himself.lOo

Wholeness here refers of course to that unity or harmony of self

that writers in the German tradition of Bildung assumed necessary
for a creative life. But in Nietzsche's slightly revised version, nei­
ther Wagner nor Schopenhauer before him were born with harmo­
nious, whole personalities; they were profoundly divided men who
had to overcome aspects of themselves to reach wholeness.
The drama that Nietzsche purported to find in Wagner's inter­
nal struggle was a fiction that suited Nietzsche very well. It permit­
ted him to voice his reservations and yet praise Wagner in the
inordinate fashion to which the master was accustomed. Yet, since
the exemplary loyalty is drawn from Wagner's works rather than
from his life, the effect is the opposite of the one he created in
 1 94 YOU NG NIETZSCHE

Schopenhauer as Educator,
moral e�emplar and ignorewhdere the
he praised Schopenhaue
philosopher's works. In ;ic�:�
Wagner zn Bayreuth Nie tzsche a

moral character; in fact his praise seeon ly ms to praise the master,,�s

is
W agner ' s work s. "At 1 east Wagner's worksdevwer oted to the heroes · of.
flon , " he see ms In. etrospect to e worth my I'deaIIZ" a.
: be say
spasm of loyal serVIce to Wagner, Nietzsche was det ing , so tha t even in this
from Wagner's person. aching h'Imself
It was by refocussing his expectations on Wagner's
th elr. reception
' that NIe. tzsche overcame the skepti wo rks and
pressed and paralyzed him in the winter and spring cism that d
sequently NIetzsche provides a schematic histor of l875. Co:�
relatlo' nsh'Ip WIt. h the public. At first Wagner identi y of Wagner's
press�d an� sought to communicate his empathyfied with th
suffenng directly-in Tannhiiuser and Lohengrin andfor the w �I��s O '

tuaI Inc ' om pre hen sio n.1o l Bu t Wa

gne r slou ghe
' there wa.s mUM
domlna ' te the. audience and transform the worldd dir
. . off the. deSlre to
u�11y re�ognlzed that he alone; he began "to com ly. He grad. ect
� Imself ; and he gave upwas try ing to pro duc e wh at
e to terms with
tIvely calls "an immediate effect." Then he tzsche pejora. Nie
"th rough h'IS art only to hIm ' self ' -I. n Tristan andbegan to spea·k2 .

Then, renouncing "success" in the sense of commo Meistersinger 10

b�gan to look up�n the world "with more rec n popularity, he
seIzed less often WIth rage and disgust," and "reonc nou
iled eyes, was
.
And. as h e "qUIetIy pushed forward his greatest wo nced p ower".
besld� score, something happened which made rk and laid Score
ten:Jrzends were coming to tell him of a subterran him stop and lis.
m�ny souls.': 103 In other words, as Wagner wroteean movement of
Nzbelungen with sup pos ed ind iffe The Ring oj the
ren ce to the pu blic
began slowly to form itself. ' a true public
Nietzsche seemed to suggest that, as the firs
Bayreuth approached, Wa gne r was t Festival in
was a scheme in which Wagner fou nd his true pu jus t fin din g his tru e public It
as he r�n�unced pop . , a correlative of the blic in pro porti�n
over wIll In Wagner'sulapsyntycho victory of loyalty
logical life . Bo th of these develop.
ments are wIs. hfu l projec ' tio ns
perhaps what Nietzsche neededoftoNiebeltzsc iev
he's mind' and they are
pletely deluded about this. In fact, his wise.hfuBul des t he was not com.
em�rgence of a pub lic for Wagner's work was int cription of the
ag�Inst the vulgarity that he feared. 104 He seems conended to guard
wntten a wIs. hful account, as if to instruct the audiensciously to haNe
ce on how they
 Strugglefor Autonomy 195

should approach Wagner's art. His is a prescriptive celebration of

a the coming Festival.
� Nietzsche does not describe Bayreuth as the triumphant end of
Wagner's race. It was only the beginning of what Nietzsche hoped
would be the triumph of a tragic renewal of German culture.105
Bayreuth had been created, according to Nietzsche, because condi­
tions in the popular theater were not conducive to the proper pro­
duction of Wagner's works. According to Nietzsche, "There is only
one hope and one guarantee for the future of humanity: it consists
in the retention of the sense for the tragic. " And it was from Bayreuth
that the sense of the tragic would again flow forth into the world.106
It would of course be a disaster if a complacent public assembled in
Bayreuth, conscious only of having arrived. That would ev�scera�e
Wagner's work. In a sense, Nietzsche's whole essay was wntten In
fear of this, and in an attempt to prevent it, to prompt the public to
greater awe and humility-so that they could be transformed by
Wagner's art as Nietzsche had been.
In the final section of Richard Wagner in Bayreuth it is quite ap­
parent that Nietzsche has been a?dre�sing himself to th�se who will
attend the first Festival. He plaInly Instructs the pubbc that they
have not arrived at the end of history. Nor is their reception of
Wagner's saving work the culmination of anything. Bayreuth �s
only a beginning. Wagner is the herald of another age. Even thIS
select
. evenaudience, expectant and anxious for their own transforma-
hon, they must b e overcome. 107
..

Two specially bound copies of Richard Wagner in Bayreuth ar­

rived at Wahnfried, the Wagners' home in Bayreuih" a"b outJuly 10, !Os
1876-a "Festival Edition" in leather binding with gold lettering.
Nietzsche's accompanying letter-only one to Cosima survives­
betrayed barely a hint of his anxiety about what he had published.
He had wanted not only to prepare himself for the great events of
the summer, he wrote, but to make a contribution to the Festival as
well. He hoped only for the slightest sign of approval from the
Wagners.I09
The Wagners were apparently impressed with the book,
whether or not they found time to read it. And they responded as
Nietzsche hoped. The Master wrote Nietzsche an enthusiastic but
slightly ambiguous note, perhaps alluding to Nietzsche's infre­
quent attendance in Bayreuth: "Your book is astonishing! Where
have you got to know me so well? N ow come soon and get accus-
1 96 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

t�me� to the impressions [of The Ring]!" 1 1 0 And Cosima thanked

hIm wIth an equally brief telegram, in a loftier tone, perhap s to su .
tain a certain for�alit� that she had created between herself an�
her .yout�ful admIrer: ,Now l owe to you, dear friend, my singfe�'
exhIl�ration and r�freshment, aside from the mighty artistic im.
pressions [of The Rzng]. May this suffice as my expression of graf. 1
U
"

t de. "11 1 In th·Is exch ange-NIetzsche s letter and the two brief
messages from the Wagners in Bayreuth-there is no ackno wledg.
ment of the ambivalence of Richard Wagner in Bayreuth. 1 12
unli�ely that Wag�er coul� have found time to read
. It see�s sbook
NIetzsche In 1876. Ever SInce comIng to Bayreuth in 1872 , as'
0
· f th·IS dream of producing The Ring ofthe Nibelunge '
the rea1·IzatIon
in his �wn �e�tival Theater finally approached, the temp o o�
Wagner s aCtivIty had grown progressively more frenetic. After
completing The Ring in November 1874, just when he wished to
turn his full attention to production, he was inundated with reo
quests to give concerts. He had to accept many of these invitations
just .to raise money for the theater, and to secure singers for the
Festival productions. "His vogue as an opera composer had never
been so great as it was now," writes his biographer Newman; and
the managers of theaters throughout Germany positively de:
m�n.ded th�t he co �e to their cities to conduct in return for per.
mittIng theIr star sIngers to perform at Bayreuth in 1876.11 3 To '.

Wagner this seemed like blackmail. More important tasks urgently

required his attention.
Wag�er was not only the author and composer of The Ring, and
even desIgner of the theater; he had now to be impresario, pro. ',
�ucer, director, and choreographer. He had to Scour Germany
sIngers competent for the very demanding roles he had written.
Even more importantly, he had to prepare them in Bayreuth, a
fro � their homes, where he perceived they would lapse into baci
habIts. He had to recruit and rehearse an orchestra as well. He
�eeded to be in Bayreuth to supervise the last stages of construe.
tIon and the furnishing of the Festival Theater. He even had to help
organize the little town for the unprecedented number of visi
who already began streaming into the city in the summer of 1875 a
whole year early-with many more expected for the first Festival in
1876. And many of the tourists were potential patrons and donors '
who hoped to be received at Wahnfried. They further distracted
the Master from his preparations. An irascible man in the best
times, Wagner was particularly preoccupied and irritable now. Bu
 Strugglefor Autonomy 1 97

with the Festival actually onst the calendar and the theater virtually
com plete, he showed almo superhuman restraint in focusetic ing ex­
clu sively upon the so one goal of realizing the complete oser was im­
aesth
so
pression he had long envisioned.1I4 The comp
absorbed in the work ofs essayproduction that he could hardly stop to
worry about Nietzsche' rbed .him Nothing that Nietzsche migh t have
, wri tten could
have distu 1 1 or even captured his attention
for m ore than a mom ent. 5
In Nietzsche' s own view, however,ismhe had dared much. He knew
that a dangerous degreprais e of critic of Wagner woul d showt
through the exorbitant e. Nietzsche was as ambivalent abou
what he had written as he now was about Wagner. And his equivo­
cations bear witness to his anxie ty abou t what he had done .116 He
was worried sick. But of course, his fear of Wagner's reaction was
quite realistic, considering Wagn er's violent repudiation of his ear­
a premonition; or perhaps he already
lier essays.1I7 Perhaps he had nue
knew that he could not contis relat as Wagner's disciple. Of course it
had always been Nietzsche' heionsh ip with Wagner that his
works had threatened. But now was"itworr ied about more even
than that: he wrote that with this essay is as if I had jeopardized
mean that Nietzsche' s
my very self." Read literally, thisbycantheonlyprosp
sense of self was threatened d up with Wagn ect of alienating
Wagner.ll 8 His identity was so boun not Wagner'serdisci that it migh t
collapse if they separated. If he were ple, who
would he be? insecure state of mind
Nietzsche was thus in a dangerously val onJuly 2 4. To make
,' when he arrived in Bayreuth for the Festi table 'fo,� ,the f!rst few
matters worse, he was miserably uncomfor and his unpleasant
days, complaining of ill health, the humidity
lodgings. He suffered from his chronalso ic headaches and nausea. And
as he might have predicted, he was illgathe at ease amid the preten­
tious crowd of Wagner-enthusiasts sociered for the event.
Nietzsche was never very comfortable in and his ty, but this particular
crowd, the importance of the occasion, create the anxiety about the
book he had just published combined to worst possible
situation for him. He avoided the recepWagn tions at Wahnfried, with
the excep tion of one where he irritated er by remaining si­
lent and aloof. "alm ost regretted
From Bayreuth he wrote to his sister that hetted, but he "didn't
coming." He had been to one rehearsal, he admi first
like it and had to leave."ll9 It was a rehearsal of the act of The
1 98 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Twilight of the Gods, an opera that Nietzsche had never heard.

Elisabeth Nietzsche interpreted her brother's remark as evidence
of his complete disillusion with Wagner and his work; 1 20 but si nce
she enjoyed an early monopoly of her brother's le�ters and maQip_
ulated theIr. texts to serve her own purposes, thIS. Interpretation is
suspect. The remark might also have been the expression of a sick
and disoriented man who had not felt well at the rehearsal, or sim­
ply an indication that Nietzsche had been disappointed in that par�
ticular rehearsal or the production more generally. 12 1 But it is
possible that Elisabeth Nietzsche was right. Nietzsche may finally
have realized his disillusion in Wagner and his music at this re-
hearsal.
Nietzsche found some solace in Bayreuth with Malwida von
Meysenbug, whose shady garden seemed to shield him from every­
thing he found unpleasant about the Festival atmosphere. Leaving
most of his things at his own lodgings, he stayed at Malwida's while
he waited for his sister to arrive, and his health improved for sev­
eral days. In that time he heard rehearsals of the whole of Twilight
of the Gods, and remarked that "it is good to get used to this; now I
am in my element." 1 22 This could be understood as a reversal of the
earlier judgment. Or it could be a forthright acknowledgment of
the difficulty of Wagner's new work, and an acceptance of the
music as a challenging relief from Bayreuth society. Whichever the
case, by August 1 , barely a week after his arrival, Nietzsche felt .
worse again-he was suffering from headaches and exhaustion.
In a letter written on that day, he notes that he had heard The
Valkyrie in a darkened room to protect his eyes; but he makes no
comment on the opera. He simply wrote, "I yearn to be away from
here. It is senseless for me to stay. I dread every one of these I
evenings of art; and yet I don't stay away." 1 23 What is not clear i
whether he would have enjoyed th�se evenings more if he had not
felt ill; or whether the whole Bayreuth scene was contributing to his
illness. Perhaps both! In any case, by August 1 , Nietzsche seemed to
be finished with the Festival before it had really started: "I am sick.
of it. I won't stay for the first performance. Somewhere else, any·
where but here, where there is nothing but torture for me."124 Thus .
he decided to leave Bayreuth and take another cure, this time at
Klingbrunn in the nearby Bavarian mountains.
While he was in Klingbrunn, he began to realize that he would
not miss Wagner's company as much as he had feared. At least not
the Wagner ofWahnfried and the Festival Theater, a Wagner sur·
 1 99
Struglg e/or Autonomy

ons in large reception roo ms full of

rounded by wealthy patr would he mIS . S the Iong-
sJ1l0ke " drin king and loud talk. Nor the er h and, '
ot h
waited performancesrieb of the operas. He would, �nyed te� s
(a s the Wagner ofT sche n, where he had enjo the Mas mISS
��mowe tive times. And he would re
•

ate company in his mo st creastru cted on the fatherly fi � hIS �f

the er. But rful ideal that he had conseparat
W :n he was beginning to e these two Wa gne rs In
nta ins to recuperate. for perhap s
. nu�nd . He wou ld stay in the mou .
SIng
ten days,Baheyreut thought, and then return to Basel WIth out paS
through h.125 � at least
In the event, he did retu rn to Bayreuth. He atten.desls er had
one full cycletooffind The Ring of the Nibelungen as wel l. HIS �
one to use their tickets or the 10dgI�gs he
been unable hapany vered his health. Perh.aps he .sImdIS­ p.ly
had reserved. Per srnhetoreco s hIS
hap . ? ? gr WIn
forced himself to him retu the Festival. Or per min d, permIttIng �I� to
illu sionmen t put rinofa calm er fram e of
return as an observe this act in the drama of Wagner s hfe,
rather than as oneved of the principals.
Nietzsche arri back in Bay reuth on August l�. On t�ehelm same
day the Grossherzog (Grand Duk e) of Weimar, and KaIser at theI, WIl
arrived. The Grossher�ogw as. The met
the German Emperor, alsothe gne r hIm self re was
, station by Franz Liszt, city and Kaiser by Wa
i
a parade through the whi ch, it was said, could for thesee
scar cely be
KaI
�
­
due to the vast numbers of, ban ner s and wre aths set out
and great wealth from through out - Ger
ser. With royalty, nob ility atte nce, Nietzsche was . hardlym an
many and Europe in henda did nothing to mak� hImself ?re
,important personage, andon the other hand, were full mI� y occ u � Ied
noticeable. The Wagners, sts; no mat how soli citous they ht
with their prominent gue dly have ter ght out guests who, h�e
have felt, they could har theirsou receptio ns �nd the, pub lIce
Nietzsche, stayed away fromvery solicito for N.Ietzsch� s nam
hou ses. And they were not ima's diaries,us,and tzsche s c�rre­
never again appears in Cos er really resumed . NIe It seems possIble,
spondence with Wagner nev and Wagner did not each other
even probable, that Nietzsche reuth at the end of Ausee st. ,
. again before Nietzsche left Bay no�ing about NIe�tzsc he s se�­
Unfortunately we know almost .
his sIster and vutuall� a�l ofp hIS
ond stay in Bayreuth. Inasmuch teas no rs to record hIS 1m :es­
friends were now there, he wro hislette presen.ce at any ga�henng,
sions. Third parties do not record to the socIety of Mal wid a von
and he seems to have kept strictly
 zuu YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Meysenbug and his sister. In the absence of any direct eviden

however, all commentators agree that Niet zsch ce
the social scene there, and disappointed, eventually at least, in o�
e felt alien ated fr
production of The Ring. The only difference of opinion is over thhe
appropriateness of his reaction . Some profess surprise t e
Nietzsche's naivete: did he really expect the audience to be so tra at
formed by the operas that they would refrain from visiting the lo ns
taverns and showing off their finery at Wahnfried?1 26 Others foucal
the Festival disappointing and the spectators uncommonly vnd
gar.127 One of them was Wilhelm Murr, a Wagnerian who wroteul­
a
series of three articles for the Gartenlaube, the most widely circu­
lated periodical in Germany. The
scene much as Nietzsche later did inserie s satirizes the Bayreuth
Ecce Homo and other writ­
ings. 1 28
On August 27, Nietzsche left Bayreuth for Basel accompanied
by Paul Ree-whom he already knew
close confidant-and the FrenchmanbutEdw who would now become a
had only just met at the Festival, introducedard Schure, whom he
by Malwida. One con­
sequence of this long train ride is that the most extensive record of
Nietzsche's state of mind at the end of the Festi was made by
Schure. And although it was not written down, orval at
lished for nineteen years, it seems to give an accurate least impr
not pub.
essio n at
least of Nietzsche's attitude toward Wagner. Schure indicates that
during the rehearsals and perf nces, Nietzsche seemed "sad
and depressed. . . . In Wagner'sorma
rassed, almost invariably silent." 1 29 pres
Wag
ence he was timid, embar­
ner, on the other hand, was
working with tremendous energy and was
so that Schure wondered if Nietzsche was injealo an expansive mood,
perhaps disappointed in the contrast between theuscrea of Wagner, or
man, or merely censorious of the general vulgarity of tor the
and the
Whichever it was, "not a criticism escaped him, not a word publ of
ic.!
cen
sure, but he showed the resigned ess of a beaten man. I still
remember the air of lassitude andsadn
spoke of the Master's coming work ."disil In
lusionment with which he
the train Nietzsche appar­
ently recounted how Wagner had told him of his plans for Parsifal,
smiling indulgently "as if to say, 'See the illus ions Of these poets
and musicians?' "130 Thus it seems that by the time
Nietzsche had adopted, at the very least, an ironicalheattitu left Bayreuth,
de toward
Wagner.
There had always been a strai jealousy in Nietzsche's admi­
ration for Wagner, or what mighnt of be called oedipal rivalry. Cer-
 Strugglefor Autonomy 20 1

e tainly he was shocked as well. But this was not the first time
� Nietzsche had been shocked by Wagner, nor was he t�e only .one
e shocked by the contrast between the nobility of Wagner s creatIons
e C
and his egotistical behavior. Neither was he the only one to be ap­
t palled by the vulgarity of the Ba�reu�h cr?wd. But the sad�ess th�t
s­ S chu re mentions repeatedly pOInts In sull another emouonal dI-
. . · 1ousy
l rection. This is more consistent with mournIng than WIth Jea
d or outrage. And indeed, Nietzsche mourned the Wagner he had
­ idealized and depended upon; whether or not t�at had ever been a
a realistic image is irrelevant, for now he had lost It. He' mourned the
­ intimacy they had shared at Triebsch en too, an InfImacy that
h Nietzsche finally realized they would ne�er recapture. And he
mourned that naive and childlike part of hImself. that had been . 1·
so
impressionable and so vulnerable to the someumes tyrannlca In-
flu ences ofSchopenhauer and especially Wagner.
. .

Nietzsche's own later accounts sustain the view that he b�oke

with Wagner, at least in his own mind, when he suddenly reahzed
that he was opposed to everything that Wagner stood for.. In Ecce
Homo, a book that he prepared for publication in 1 888, Nle�zsc� e
dates his disillusionment with Wagner to the Bayreuth FestIval In
1876. That book is colored by the hindsight of a decade and the
foresight of a man engaged in maki� g a my�h of himself. N one�he­
less, it is significant that this autobIographIcal work charactenz� s
Nietzsche's break as a sudden awakening-as from a dream-In
Bayreuth:
Wherever was I? There was nothing I recognized; J scarcely recog­
nized Wagner. In vain did I leaf through my e�or es. Trib schen-a
� � .
distant isle of the blessed: not a trace of any SImIlarIty. The Incompa­
rable days when the foundation stone [of the Festival Theater] was
laid, the small group of people that had belonged . . . not a trac of
�
any similarity. What had ha ened?-Wagner had been translated Into
pp
a German! The Wagnerian had become master over Wagner- Ger-
man art. The German master. German beer. 131
Here Nietzsche seems to suggest that Wagner had changed com­
pletely as he progressed from a solitary and unrecogni�ed ge�ius,
living in Swiss exile, to a cultural hero and German nauo�al Icon.
But in using the metaphor of awakening from a dr� am, NIetzsche
tacitly admits that he was only belatedly acknowledgIng what he ac-
 202 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

tually knew about Wagner all along. He, Nietzsche, had awakened
from a hypnotic sleep.
Wagner had made no secret of his German patriotism and anti'­
Semitism. But these were easy to overlook, Wagner was fi nally "
ensco nced in Bayreuth amid throngs of hisuntilnatio nalistic SUppOrt­
ers. Then he expressed his views even more stridently, and his state­
ments were amplified by his followers.132 It is true, Nietz
ta�e a sta�d wh�n it mattered most-"":hen Wagner wassche fin
did
a
beIng receIved wIth open arms by an antI-S emitic German publillyc,
when people who knew and cared very little about his music made
Wagner a champion of their chauvinism. Then Nietzsche's repudi­
ation of Wagner's ideology was important, and it became very ap­
parent in his next published writing.
In Human, All Too Human, two volumes of aphorisms published
in 1 878 and 1879 and dedicated to Volta Nietzsche suddenly
wrote as a rationalist loyal to the Europeanire,Enlig
eighteenth century. It is difficult to recognize thehtenm
autho
ent of the
r of The
Birth of Tragedy or the Untimely Meditations in this new work
new Nietzsche was cosmopolitan, pro-French, and vehemently. Tohep­
posed to anti-S emitism. What is more, Nietzsche claims that he
began to write this book during the Bayreuth Festiv
cisely, in the days that he spent at the spa in Klingal,brun
or more pre­
n, before
returning to attend performances of The Ring. 133 In an expla nation
of why he wrote Human, All Too Human as a cosmopolitan, Nietz sche
claims that he only realized in Bayreuth that Wagner had becom e
his polar opposite: it was
during . . . the first Festival, [that] I said farewell
to Wagner in my
heart. . . . Since Wagner had moved to Germ
any, he had con·
desce nded step by step to every th ing I despi
s e-ev en to anti· 'I
Semitism.134

It was not just Wagner's chauvinism and anti-S emitism that

loomed in Nietzsche's mind, however. His turn
perhaps even worse. In a later Preface to Humaton,Chris tianity was
All Too Human
(1 886), Nietzsche wrote that Wagner might
at Bayreuth when, in 1876, he finally achieseem
ved
to have triumphed
the popularity he
had sought so long. But, Nietzsche argued, the Maste r had actually
been defeated, and defeated precisely by his own effort s to gain
recognition. For as he "sank down, helpless and broken, befor the
Christian cross," he had at last surrendered all of the ideals heehad
 Strugglejor Autonomy 203

t
s arted with.135 Nietzsche referred not only to the religious nature
he .
some�Imes .
Inter-
of W agner's next opera, Parsifal (which Nietzs<:
reted as a cynical creation, a kind of operatIc pot-boIler), but to
" hIS
P ' church-going' which even entailed signing his letters as Ober-
. ' f the 0
kirchenrat or deacon. In addition to all of the other pr�J � dlce �
Germans, Wagner had indeed capitulated to Chnstlan pIety as
well. .
For all of these failures and betrayals that Nietzsche dIagnosed
l. Wagner to explain his break with the composer, his most inter­
�ting statements indicate that he suddenly realized who he was
�imself. He awoke to find that he had strayed from ?is own path of
development and now he was impatient to resume It.
What reached a decision in me at that time [in Bayreuth] was not
[merely] a break with Wagner: I noted a total aberration of my in­
stincts, of which particular blunders, whether Wagner or t e pr�fes­
�
sorship in Basel, were mere symptoms. I was overcome by zmpatzence
with myself. I saw that it was high time f� r me to re� all and reflect o n
.
myself. A l l a t once it became clear t o m e m a ternfymg way how much
time I had already wasted.136

Awakening from the hypnotic sleep of his W.agnerian discip�eship,

Nietzsche had a startling awareness of havIng neglected hIS own
mission-"my task." And he realized that he would never accom-
plish it as a Wagnerian. .
To "recall and reflect" upon himself, he had to repudIate
Wagner, and to rid himself completely of Wagne�� s , influence .. He
suddenly saw Wagnecas a seducer and a hypnotlst,'and reahzed
that he had been powerfully affected: "Perhaps no one was more
dangerously attached to-grown together with-Wagn . erizing. No-
body tried harder to resist it. Nobody was happI r o b e 0
n'd. f It' ."137
�S �nfatuatlon .
He escaped. Again and again he wrote that �ll � ;;Ith
Wagner had been a sickness; and he, ;eveled 1� hIS .recovery: My
greatest experience was a reco:er� . . But �hIle. NIetzsche could
glory in the fact of overcoming hIS dlsC1p.leshI� , hIS memo�y of how
he felt after leaving Bayreuth and breakIng wIth Wagner IS far less
triumphant:
As I proceeded alone I trembled; not long after, I was sick, and more
than sick, namely, weary-weary from the inevitable disa� pointment
about everything that is left to us modern men for enthusiasm, about
 ZU4 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

the universally wasted ene rgy

, work, hop e, youth, love -w
na� sea at the wh � le idea listi ear fro
c lie and pam per ing of the .
whI ch had here tnu mp hed con :C Ien C
onc e again over one of the
Wagner]-weary, fina lly and bra vest [o�e
. .
not leas t of all , from the gne
. .
an Inex orabl e SUsp IcIO f aro use d b
n that I was hen ceforth sen
more pro fou ndl y, to des pise ten ced to mis truS
more pro fou ndl y to b e
.

fou ndl y alone than ever befo mor� p ro

re. For I had had no b 0' d y ex
Wagner. I38 cep t Rlchar

ThiS waS th ti e of mo ing, necessary before Nie

actuaIIy begI�n h�IS own "taurn
sk." tzsche could
o
ClU
e N I NE
er
b '
Syt
o�
rdo
Redefining Genius
d
•

ietzsche left Bayreuth disillusioned with Wagner, and certain

N that he would now have to make his way alone. Naturally
somewhat depressed, he was also relieved. He was finally free to
chart his own course. He had always ascribed extraordinary impor­
tance to his intellectual development, but he had been only too
willing to surrender responsibility for it to his esteemed genius­
mentors. For years no one but Schopenhauer and Wagner had
seemed competent to di"rect him. But now, in the depths of disillu­
sion, he had become his own master.
Nietzsche was simultaneously becoming indepe�dent in an­
other sense as well. For in May of 1 876, well before he knew the
outcome of the Bayreuth Festival or even of his own essay on
Wagner, Nietzsche had applied for a year's leave of absence from
his academic duties in Basel. He cited continuous illness and the
need to recuperate his health as his primary reason. But he also
noted his desire to visit Italy, to see the classical sites and to com­
plete his education; he wanted to make the trip that he might have
made upon completion of his own studies, had he not been hired
for the position in Basel so unexpectedly. Not wanting to lose
Nietzsche entirely, the authorities in Basel granted him leave. After
his return from the first Bayreuth Festival therefore, Nietzsche was
free to travel. For a year at least, he was liberated not only from his
205
 206 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

tyrannical mentor Wagner, but

that had come to weigh so heavilyfrom upo
the teaching responsibilities
n him.
In September of 1 876 Nie tzsche gave up his lodgings in Basel
and. r:duced his possessions to what would fit in a single large trunk:
a mInImum of clothing, some essential books, and
the notebooks that he had filled with his Own writ, ing, most importantly,
philosophical fragments that he had kept secret from theinclu Wag
ding the
ners as
he wrote the Untimely Meditations, and the notes he was now ma
for Hurnam, All Too Human. He was setting out on what would king
become a truly nomadic existence. For although he would returSoon
Basel a year later and attempt to reestablish himself as a teacher then to
he would not be capable of carrying on. Instead, he would travel re
these few possessions until his ultimate collapse inJanuary 1889. Sowith
trip to Italy was an essay in the life-style characteristic of the matthis
Nietzsche. Here was a man who began in his late thirties to live oure
meagre pension, with no ordinary responsibilities and no permann a
residence, migrating back and forth, spending the summer in the Swient
Alps, the winter in Italian cities like Genoa, staying always in a rent ss
room, in boarding houses where he had no friends, always accom ed
nied by his undefined illness. pa_
In early October Nietzsch
Genoa, then by boat to Naples,e leftand
Basel traveling first by train to
he would spend the winter of 1 876-from there to Sorrento, where
77 writing a draft of the first
volume of Human, All Too Hum He was travelin g with a Swiss
passport that belied his pecu liaran.civil
Prussian citizenship when he acceptedstatu emp
s. He had given up his
since the Franco-Prussian War he had conceivloym ed a
ent in Basel, and
profoun d antip­
athy for the German nation. He would not willingly
ma�y again. But he had not yet become a Swiss citizen,liveeithiner.Ger. By
leavIng Basel for the second time since he arrived in 1869, he practic.
ally abandoned all chance of becoming a Swiss citizen. He would have
had to reside in Switzerland for eigh
ing for citizenship. He had left once tot cons ecutive years before apply.
the Prussian military in 1870. And nowserv ,
e as a medical orderly with
with six years continuous res­
idence, he left again. In Swiss parlance, Nietzsch heimatlos stat
e­
less; and he would remain stateless throughoute was the
-

Thus he was becoming a cosmopolitan in a very specialrest of his life.

sens
�ort of "rootless intellectual" that nationalists would soon bee,vilif just the
ying
In Germany and elsewhere.
In Nietzsche's case "rootless
debilitated by illness that he had" was no mere metaphor. He was
little prospect of marrying, makso-
 Redefining Genius 207

ing new friendships, or finding an employment that migh� �ave

iven him a new home. For a person with conventional am�ItIOnS,
�hemsituation
his
was desperate. But Nietzsche would no� be dIverted
single aspiration to establis� himsel� as : phIlosopher. As
f ro ,

he later wrote, "purity of heart is to wIll one thIn? In fact he seems

to have relished the concentratio n and absolute Independer:ce that
his pitiless existence forced upon hi� . H � �ould mak� a . vlftu � of
deprivation and consciously base hIS wntIng upon hIS IsolatIon.
One volume ofHuman, All Too Human he subtitled The Wanderer and
His Shadow (1 880). All of Nietzsche's later �ooks ar� the work of a
truly "solitary walker," a Rousseau-like genIUS so ahen��ed, or per­
haps so far in advance of his contemporaries, that his wn�Ing a�tual�y
seems to be nothing so much as an extended conversatIo� WI� hIS
own shadow-the only companion who could keep pace wIth hlI�..
Nietzsche arrived at this threshold by a confluence of �uahties
and influences, all of which were necessary but no �e 0: whI�h were
sufficient in themselves to make him a genius. NatIve IntellIgence,
inherited from his Lutheran-pastor forebears, was but one ?fthese
qualities. Of course there were no intelligence tests �hen N Ie�zs�he
was a schoolboy, and so it is impossible to say anythIng quantItatIve
or comparative about his intelligence. His record at school sug­
gests, however, that his gifts were for language �ather than mathe­
matics, and that is consistent with the observatIons of others who
have studied the inherited intelligence of the sons of the German
pastorate.l Nonetheless, even if it were 'possible to d:monst�ate
that Nietzsche was specifically gifted for lIterary and phIlosophIcal
brilliance, the contents of his achievement could �ardly have been
determined by this endowment. -' «

Friedrich was also shy, self-absorbed, and introspectIve as a

boy. These too are characteristics which might have been the prod­
ucts of inheritance, although he himself ascribed them to the mel­
ancholy fate of having lost his father at an ea�ly age. But what:ver
the explanation, he became an unusually pnvate and self-relIant
man. His family furthermore was unusually earnest, ev:n by Protes­
tant standards. Much would have been expected of NIetzsche as a
child, whether his father had died young or not. And as h� was ?y
no means a rebellious boy, he rose to the expectation s of hIS famIly
and became an earnest, hard-working, and ambitious yo�ng man.
This ambition, later diverted from clerical into philosophIc�1 chan­
nels, ultimately proved essential to his perseveran�: . In the
iconoclastic mission that he devised for himself. But SenSItIVIty, self-
 208 YOU NG NIETZSCHE

reliance, diligence, and ambition are amorphou s

even when added to intelligence do not make a geniusqualities, and
�ore stru. ctured are the emotional and intellectual.
as SOCIa ted WIth N·Ietzsche,s lifelong search for a fath tendenCI. es� /

was not. the only boy whose father died when he waser. Of course he
the oedIpal s�ruggle, and none of the others turned outin the midst of
v�ry foundatIons of Western Civilization in just the to assault th
dId. But Nietzsche's life did c�me to focus so thorouway N ietz che .
thers-emulatIng . them, re�elh
ng aga . them, and ghly upo� fa�
Inst
them-. that we can. hardly dIscount the Freudian thoughgoit tha ng beyond
penence c.aused hIm to search out and assume that he cou t thoIS ex. ·
a long senes of father-figures. Furthermore, this thoughld overcome
the young .N �etzsche's predilection for fatherly mento t does r k
defined. mISSIon to undermine the faith of his more rs to his s�7r­
and It· IS consI. �tent wI. �h both the imperious style of hisliteral fathers,
and the grandIose attIt�de of his hero, Zarathustra. Bulater writings
when taken together with his native intelligence and t again, even
�ound, this psychological tendency would family back­
not
�hetzsche a creative author who could command the d to make hav e suf fice
tIon and punctuate the history of Western thought. world's atten­
The other essential ension of Nietzsche's forma
he gre� up and was edudim cat ed in a cul tur e of gen ius
tion is that
.
pervas�ve In the Ideology of the nineteenth century, . Ge nius was
.
th.e unIve�sal dn;e for innovation in every field of und erw riting
NIetzsche In partIcular, gave cultural sign ificance, end eav or. For
deep personal predisposit itio n tow ard fath ers , but
not onl y to his
gence and ambitio?� As an adolescent studying Goeth to his inte lli­
and other great wnters and musicians e, Ho lde rlin ,
�ffat? erly g�niuses in the world bey();nd, he learned the imp ortance
I �g hImself In the role of Goethe, he gavhis e an
family. And by imagin­
hIS .own e�ucation. Genius became a standardinte to
rnal structure to
aspIre, � kInd of abstract father-figure whom he couwhich he could
as he �Ight have imitated his father. The concept ld imitate ' just
gave NIetzsche a standard against which to measureof genius also
not only at Schulp!orta but !n the university. He ult his teachers
sured Professor RItschl agaInst it and fou nd him imately mea�
when he c�me across Schopenhauer's book, The Worwanting. But
Representatzo , and when he me ld as Will and
� t Ric har
what later, hIS by then deep appreciation of the rold Wa gne r in person some­
enabled him to recognize these men as such, and toe of the genius
mentors for hIS. own creative development. adopt them as
 Redefining Genius 209

Prepared since early adolescence by a thorough indoctrination

in the culture of genius, Nietzsche now made his struggle for iden­
tity and personal mission into a struggle for a personal relati?n­
ship to genius. First it was a struggle to learn the role of genIus
from Schopenhauer and Wagner, who were for him the very em­
bodiments of it. For a time he behaved like the most slavish of dis­
ciples. Observers would hardly have guessed that he was destined
to be a great creative figure himself. But later his quest resolved
into a struggle for emancipation, as he began to sense the need to
free himself for a mission of his own. The genius of others was once
a beacon for Nietzsche, drawing him toward creativity; later the
role of the genius became the channel for Nietzsche to veer away
from his mentors and focus his intellect, ambition, and psychology
in unique creative work of his own. From early adolescence, but
extending through his lengthy discipleship with Wagner, Nietzsche
therefore shaped himself to this culturally defined role. Ultimately
it permitted him to turn both his gifts and his disabilities to cre­
ative advantage.
As a provincial young man without a father, Nietzsche may
have depended more than most great creators upon models of genius
to help him reach the threshold of independent creative work. And
for just that reason Nietzsche's early biography raises interesting
questions about the very theory of genius that bore him up. For
Nietzsche was obviously not born a genius. He became a genius. And the
fact that he learned the role of the genius from a whole series of indi­
viduals from Goethe to Wagner, and shaped his own life to conform
as much as possible to their examples, suggests either that Nietzsche
was not a genius, or that the nineteenth-century theory.of genius was
itself a skewed representation of the creative individual.
. .
Nietzsche's early life-history makes plain that growing up in a
culture of genius permitted this intelligent, ambitious, and
hardworking individual, who happened also to be fixated upon fa­
thers, to organize his life for a single, extended creative project. It
is true that Nietzsche's adult life was difficult, even with the creative
purpose that he defined for himself. He had reason enough to
curse his fate. Instead, fortified by the sense of mission that he got
from assuming the mantle of genius, he enunciated the principle
of loving one's fate (amorfati). This was appropriate, not only as a
philosophical principle consistent with his other ideas, but as a psy­
chological consequence of having defined his life in terms of ge-
 210 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

niu
. s.ortFor had he not found Sch nhauer and Wagner, and
Imp antl�, had he n?t bee� ablope � to dra w dee ply eno ugh
, mOre
understandIng of genIus to Identify these two me up on his
h � would have ha� a muc� less satisfying existence n as his me nto ,(
tainly no t have achIev thIS degree of psycholog . He wo uld c::�
accomplIs. hed any greed
, '-

at work. ica l int egr ati o n Or

Instea� of pu r uing a profound purpose, he wo
have remamed a d"� � ttan uld probabl
h�ve gone on playmg and composing mediocre very likel;
te, jus t as he fea red . He wo uld
p �ano, ,and �n. tIng scholarly philological article music for the
RI.tschl s Rhe:nlS. che Museum. He would have contin s for journals like ,
mIxture of hIgh school and college Courses in Basel. ued teaChing a
had no reason to over�ome ?is deb ili�ting illness He would have
have ended up strugglIng WIth a marnage to wh . And he might
pletely � nsuited. But he refused all of that and ich he was com­
somely Integrated personality, the Nietzsche whobecame an aWe­
well-kno�n attack upon truth and metaphysics. made the now
� ecause In the role of the genius he fou nd both He cou ld do this
I�terests and marshall his energies to a well-focusaedway to order his
h �ense not to do the normal things that were expect mission, and a
N Ie �zsch�, the role of genius had the psychologica ed of him . For
grating hIm for his creative responsibility. l function of inte­
Nietzsche was not the only one whose creative life
grated by. learning and living out the role of gen was inte­
�usal �f dIlettantism and insistence upon a uniqu ius . In fac t, his re­
IS typIcal of genius: It is a characteristic that dis e cre ativ e mi ssion
teenth �century genIuses from the "Renaissance tin gui shes nine­
centunes. The . great difference is that Renai men" of earlier
Leonardo or Michelangelo were at the beck andssance men like
trons, great lords who requIr. ed a van. ety of tributecall of their pa.
ented servants. So while Michelangelo thought s from their tal­
sculptor, the �?pe insisted that he paint, designof himself as a
even plan fortIflCation . s, thereby dri buildings, and
. vin g the art ist
contrast, .geniuses of the nineteenth century were distraction. Byto
such arbItrary patronage. Berlioz, Marx, Hugo, relatively free of
and the r�st worked o n unique creative projec Wagner, Darwin,
selves �efined, and whIch . usually conflic ts that they them­
pectations of contemporaries. ted wit h the ideas and ex­
Ultimately these nin enth-century geniuses als
the�. r work to a patron,etenam ely , the pu bli c tha
o had tojus tify
theIr art, read their works, or utilize their invention t would consume
s. Berlioz had to
 Redefining Genius 211

create a new audience for his music, and even Marx had difficulty
convincing the working class of the relev�nce of his ideas: �ore
( specific to their ultimate reputations, g�nIuses had to legIu� ate
'- v themselves to the public by demonst�ating that they had ,u �Ique
missions that only they could accomphsh. In Schopenhauer s Imag­
e. ry, they had to show that they could hit targets of their own mak­
ng targets that no one else could even discern. Of course that
�o�ld only become apparent after they had begun to do it. So they
had to work alone and in the face of stiff opposition. To overcome
the expectations of tradition and to refuse a normal life, t� perse­
vere on a path of non-conformity and apparently perverse Innova­
tion required a formidable degree of self-assurance. But as
Nie;zsche's career demonstrates so clearly, they did not have to be
born arrogant or self-assured-those qualities could ?e acquired_
The role of genius was a cultural category comprehensIble to every­
one, a role that could be learned, and a structure for the psycholog­
ical integrity required of a radical innovator.
The role of the genius had to be learned from an exemplar or a
mentor, but the process did not usually requi�e the yea�s of an­
guished discipleship that Nietzsche endured. VIctor Hugo s obser­
vation that he "would be Chateaubriand or nothing" suggests how
he patterned his ambition after the older poet, witho� t a�y close
personal association with Chateaubriand at all_ And It mIght be
said that Marx took on the role of philosophical hero from Hegel,
although he did not much respect Hegel's dialectic. of history. The
important thing was to internalize a model of the In�ell�ctual cre­
ator in order to focus and discipline one's own energIes In an anal-
ogous manner. ' _' .
Taking on the role of the genius had other consequ�nces .than
just focusing the individual upon a mission an� marshalhng hIS e�­
ergies for it. Modern geniuses became recognIzable to the pubhc
insofar as they conformed to a recognizable pattern. One of the
essential traits was to be unappreciated at first. Schopenhauer h �d
revelled in rejection, and then derived enhanced f�me from It.
Wagner was controversial and his works were not Infrequently
booed in concert halls, but that only confirmed that he was ahead
of his time; the phrase "music of the future" became a b �nner for
Wagner's music. Nietzsche himself would not be recognIzed untIl.
after his creative life had ended in mental collapse. But because,
from the moment he broke with Wagner, Nietzsche worked in ob­
sessive isolation on a project that virtually no one appreciated, he
 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

was ultimately recognized as an

unrecognized gen ius . Som
a 11 y, th en, InIt
para d � xIc . ' " I�l lack ewh at
of rec ogn itio n had bec om e
the traIts that made a genIUS rec one of
ognizable to the pub lic.
Ge niu ses who achieved fam e
. early in the ir careers were
recognIze d by standard traits ass oci ate al s o . /

d with this rol e that beca

.
alm ost stereotypical in the nin m. e
. .
��
ete ent h century. Un swe rvin g
tIon to a mIs sIon , regardless of con seq d
�n d ostraCIs. m, was one rather meloduen aI ,
ces like poverty, sca n d
. . ram atic trait. Sub lim e eg -
tIsm , a boh em Ian hfe -sty le, and an inabili ty (or o
refu sal) to lead
:
bourgeois life of respectabili ty,
to "work for a livi ng, " or to
fice fo � wives and chi ldren, was sacr
another. The gen ius cou ld als
recognIzed as a hero whose ext o be
f:
raordinary journey carried
him
away from the lives of ordinary
chetype, the heroic journey per
. .
peo ple ; and yet, conforming
mitted the gen ius to return
to a
to
��
com mu nIty WIt h the fru its of his creative the
mis sio n. The cum ul ativ
effe� t of these quite con sist ent e
a
traits was to con fus e the life
.
� �
��nlus WIth th p ogress of his works.
An abstract and myth ica
of
hf� of th� gen IUS was und ers l
too d by gen ius and pub lic alik
�
gen Iuse s lIve d t eir live s i ant � e . So
�
th pu� hc . icip ation of their bio gra phe rs.
saw bIography In the live s of gen
ius es even as they were
And
beI ng hved. The "autobiograp
��
cal e , was a syn the sis of all of
.
hical life " of the gen ius , as it ma
the social and psy cho log ical cha
y be
ten stlc s asc nb ed to gen ius . rac­
Th is my thic al life of a gen ius
�
tee th century that performed
was a cul tural form of the nin
two vital fun ctio ns. It permitted
e­
�
genI � S to con cen tra e all of his
life -force upo n a creative mis
the
�
and It m de the gen IUS recogn
. . izab
sion,
le to the pub lic. Th e gen ius was
thus an Inst Itut Ion for the pro mo tion of inn ova
that had come to ide ntify itse lf tion in a cen tury
as a century of progress. Ear lier
och s and other cultures had ma ep.
� � �
ays, b t t ey had always attemp
naged inn ova tion in a variety
ted to control it, eith er by def
of
Ing the Indlvld .
� u ls who were authorized to ins in.
�
as r lers and pn ests, or by res titu te cha nge s, such
tric ting the imp etu s to innova
partIcular sources like revelation te to
fro m God. In this century that
�
mande d p ogress, however, the
. theory of genius ope ned the pat
de.
of Inn o�atlo n to alm ost any one h
� �
the g nIu s was the v hic le for
, or alm ost any ma n.2 The role
an ind ivid ual to organize him
of
the ngors of creatIV . self for
Ity, and the myth of gen ius was
the pub lic to recognize and rew the veh icle for
ard the gen ius wit h adu lati on.
Th is mythical life ·pattern ten
ded , however, to obs cur e one
portant asp ect of creativity and im­
gen ius alm ost com ple tely : how the
 Redefining Genius 213

genius became creative. According to the theory, the genius w s �

supposed to create ex nihilo, or at least out of the resources of hIS
�
own personality, and certainly without help. H ,:as a,: tono ous
, �
nd self· sufficient virtually an "unmoved mover, In Anstotle s ter·
� �
inology. This w s the kernel of the theory of the genius, which
defined innovation as a property of individuals rather than a mat·
ter of revelation or inspiration from God or the muses.3 This the·
� � �
ory was quite functional in drawing public attentio to t e nusual
.
nature of the creative individuals we call genIuses, IdentIfyIng use·
ful innovations, and rewarding geniuses by making them demigods
of modern culture. However, it obscured the fact that even ge·
niuses have to learn their role, not to mention their metier and its
traditions. .
The theory of genius, therefore, was quite unrealistic, at least
insofar as it excluded the possibility of a genius being influenced,
or learning the role of the genius from an exemplar or ment.a r. s �
�
obvious as this failing of the theory may seem u pon refl ction In
the late twentieth century, it was quite logical. In the autoblogra� h.
ical life of the genius, the theory carried with it a very effectIve
mechanism for suppressing awareness of the indebtedness of ge·
nius: In order to be recognized as a genius, even the greatest cre·
ator had at least to appear not to have learned his role or metier
from anyone else. And this role was so exalted that it inspired arro·
gance and pretension on such a scale that ge � iuses were only too
.
�
willing to avoid the very appearance of beIng Influe ced, t? repu·
diate their debts to their predecessors, to quarrel WIth theIr men·
tors, and to conceal whatever they learned from others. It would
otherwise seem to be an inexplicable coincidence_ . that so many
great benefactors of humankind should have been so lac ing in �
gratitude to thei� own benefactors. But the theory of g� n us was �
such that a genius could be depended upon to conceal hIS Indebt·
edness.
On precisely this point, however, Nietzsche was atypical. His
� � �
psychological need for a father· surrogate went o f r eyon the �
usual requirement of a model of genius that hIS dISCIpleshIp to
�
Schopenhauer and particularly to Wagner las ed for year . In all
.
�
that time he naively refused to acknowledge hIS own ambItIOn to
reach the status of genius himself, and deferred almost endlessly to
his mentors. They became the focus of his agonized writing in The
�
Birth of Tragedy and The Untimely Meditations, an mentonng reo
.
mained a theme of his later works, most espeCIally Thus Spake
 214 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

Zarathustra. So Nietzsche did not conceal his debt to Schopenhauer

and Wagner, and he remained occupied with Wagner even at the
end of his career, when he wrote The Case of Wagner and Nietzsche
contra Wagner (both 1 888), trying again and again to explain his re�
�I lationship to the composer. It seems almost as if he had set out to
illustrate the process of learning the role of genius. This all makes
becoming a genius much more transparent in Nietzsche's life than
'I it is in other instances. His example reveals a general but usually ob­
t\ scure phenomenon.
•

Nietzsche returned to the question of genius on a theoretical

plane in The Gay Science (1882), where he introduced the persona of
his alter-ego, Zarathustra. Zarathustra would become a personal
focus for all of Nietzsche's work thereafter. This semi-religious
character does not refer in any direct way to Schopenhauer,
Wagner, or any other nineteenth-century genius. Nor did
Zarathustra appear in Nietzsche's intellectual life until fully five
years after Nietzsche's break with Wagner in 1 876. But the appear­
ance ofZarathustra does indicate the outcome of Nietzsche's strug- '
gle, - not only with his mentors, but with the whole theory of
originality, creativity, and innovation associated with the idea of
genius: With Zarathustra Nietzsche resolved his need for fatherly
mentors and clarified his relationship to genius.
The invention of the character Zarathustra terminated
Nietzsche's search for the father who had deserted him as a child.
Having spent much of his life searching for a father in teachers and
mentors, he finally created a fictional surrogate. And as the creator
of Zarathustra, he became uniquely independent of his former ob­
session-not only independent of his mentors, but free to revise
the role of the genius as it applied to him. For Nietzsche crafted
Zarathustra to be very different from Ritschl, Schopenhauer, and
Wagner in one important respect-he did not want disciples. And
at the same time that Nietzsche was inventing Zarathustra, he dis­
covered his own creativity to be so . liberating that he no longer
needed to conform to the role of the genius as he had learned it.
Nietzsche first proposed the possibility that a genius might do
without disciples in The Gay Science. With that thought he took a
large step back from the idea that a genius must be confirmed by
influence and discipleship, an element of the theory of genius that
Nietzsche had reiterated in his essay, Richard Wagner in Bayreuth.In
a typically paradoxical aphorism Nietzsche examined this idea:
 215
Redefining Genius

Imitators
rs?
A: What, you wan t no imi tato .
e peo ple imi tati ng my exa mp le; I WIs h that
B: I do not wan t to hav
ow n exa mp le, as I do.
everyone wou ld fash ion his
A: So?

ambiguo,: s, ins?far asasitsur depe.nds up�n

The passage is somewhat or sImply pnse. Bu t In
w h ether one read s A's "Son ';)".hisasowiron nIC
example in Zarathustra, and the
fact Nietzsche did fasbechioame Zarathust ject.
ref�sal of imitators hero of wisdom mora'sdelpro ed up on a van . ety of hIS. -
Zarathust ra is a ed
torical figures includingsJes us, whose every inj�nctiod �Inisfouinvr ert part.s
Nie tzsc he' s boo k, Spa ke Zarathustra (pu blI she
in Thu
t the character conforon ms t� the tradI­
between 1 883 and 1 885o). inBuach ievin? his wis.dom safro Journey. of
tional imago of the her journey Into a wllde�nes ssagemIS. whmaIchn­
renunciation and testing,Exacep t for the fact that hIS me t and sage ,
he emerges triumphansta t.
ifestly perverse by the erpnda rds of all previous prophe ge
� s. B� t h �s
nlu
he could almost be int is no reted as a typ ica l her o or . n t� lIfe �IS
inherent tru th or me anl � les.
conclusion that therel trait, nam , his refusa l to hav e dI �Clples and
echoed by one formaathustra asely a hero who rej ect s dis. cIP
In designing Zar s awa re tha t . was a
hIS
sends them off on the ir ow n, Nie tzsc he wa �
ius and a departure fro msaghISes ow n ex­
variation on the theme ofitgen in m�ny moc�-bib lic�l dpasof skeleto of �hUS
perience. He employedhe rec apItulated It as a kIn , but quontin �ey
Spake Zarathustra, and g
to his life and work in the Preface to Ecce Homo (l8��'
in part from the earlier book):
as e re­
-But what doe s he imself say,
� �
Is not Zarathustra a seducer? the Opp oslte of
e to his soli tude? Pre cIse ly
t rns again for the first tim
� or any other
" sain t," "world-redeemer,"
everyth ing that any " sage," t onl y doe s he
] ld say in such a cas e.- No
decadent [i.e ., gen ius wou
different.
spe ak differently, he also is
Thu s I
s, you too, go now , alo ne.
"No w I go alo ne, my disc iple
want it. etter: b e
ist Zarathustra! And even b
Go away fro m me and res
deceived you .
ashamed of h im! Per hap s he

always rem ain s nothin g but

O� � repays a teacher badly if one
t to plu ck at my wreath?
wan
a pup il. An d why do you not
216 YOUNG NIETZSCHE

You revere me; but what if your reverence tumbles one day? Be­
ware lest a statue slay you.
You say that you believe in Zarathustra? But what matters /
'
Zarathustra? And what matter all believers?
Y o� had not yet sought yourselves; and you found me. Thus do
all behevers; therefore all faith amounts to so little.
Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you
,
have all denied me will I return to yoU. ,5

As Z.arathustra bids his followers lose him and find themselves (re­
versIng the terms of the injunction of Christ), he might seem to en­
coura�e their independence. Undoubtedly that is what Nietzsche
had ':I�h�d Wagne� to do for him as a mentor in the early 1 8708.
And If It IS not precIsely what a good father might do for his son it
expresses the separation of father and son in a more constructive
way than separ�tion by death or abandonment. - So the monologue
of Zarathustra IS auto-therapeutic.
� ietzsche seeks to disorient anyone who would make him their
genIus-mentor. The mediation of Zarathustra and this refusal of
discipl�s is designed to prevent Nietzsche's philosophy from ever
becomIng an orthodo�y, and to make his person almost impossible
as a focus for a cult lIke the cults of genius that grew up around
Wagner and other geniuses of the century. Nietzsche had reacted
so thoroug�ly agains.t Wagne�'s e�ample that he reshaped his per­
sona to avoId becomIng a genIus In that sense. Thus Nietzsche put
Z.arathustra between himself and the reader, and made Zarathustra
vIrtually impossible to emulate.6 Apparently, Nietzsche wanted to
break the genealogy of genius; he wanted to dissociate himself
from a p�rticular aspect of genius that he associated with Wagner,
but he dId not repudiate his creative experience or seek to mini­
mize his own importance.
In Ecce Homo Nietzsche also described how ideas like the person
of Zarathustra and eternal recurrence had come to him like a series
of revelations, �tarting in Augu.st 1 881 while he walked along the
�hore of Lake SIlvaplana, near SIls-Maria, where he was then spend­
� ng the summer.7 His greatest insights came to him without warn­
Ing, he wrot�, and his description typifies accounts that geniuses
ha:e often gIven. of their inspirations. He felt compelled to distin­
guIsh the expenence from a religious one, and yet he acknowl­
e�ge� that, " �he concept .of revelation-in the sense that suddenly,
wIth IndescrIbable certaInty and subtlety, something becomes visi-
 217
Redefining Genius

t shakes one to the last dep ths and

ble, audible, somethingrelythades cribes the fac ts." At suches h times, he
throws one down-me s involuntarilX in .th� higa reptortdegfroreem,
wrote, "everything hapfeepen of freedom. 8 It IS lIke
and yet in a gale of a n inling another world .
someone who has bee te the of passive receptivity tha t he
To further illustra ntsfeeofling inspiration , Nietzsche describ ed
experienced in these momeled to one part of Thus Spake Zarathwro ustra
the flood of thoughts thatter. In the cou rse of two wal ks, he te,
during the foll owi ng win occurred to me, and figures esp ecia lly
"the whole of Zarathustra er[Pahert]oveI rtoo k me ."9 Lik e reli gious
Zarathustra as a type; rath Nietzsche felt he hadsenbeehim n chosen as a
j ;
of many other epochsust, ra med to have cho . And yet he
spokesperson. Zarath athsee a was his ow n creatio n. Zarhe' athustra
leaves no dou bt that Zar yeaustr of patient work on Nietzsc s part,
was the sudden result offatherrsand ieve creative integration.rlin All
striving to emulate the and mentoach rs, from Goeth e and Ho lde
of his models, teachers, , and Wagne r, were his unw itting c?llab o­
to Ritschl, Schopenhauer at Nietzsche brought bacwh k from hIS ow n
rators. Zarathustra is whsen his journey began en 1his fath er
heroic journey. In one sense se it began in the aut ntor. when
um n of 876
died in 184 9. In another y, hav ing renounced his me ative ex eri­
Nietzsche set out for Italfar greate ut his cre p
Nietzsche wrote in geniuser sdetofailhisabo cen tur y. Ecc e Hom o IS an
ence than did most othhis er terms.
auto-interpretation of thelifemaand works in quite grandiosetitle s of
refers to Jesus. An d the
The title itself, "be hol dI Write n," h Good Book��" He term to hu­ ed his
sections include "Why presenSuc t that has ever been given"ent. But
Zarathustra "the greatest
manity .JO Obviously he waslog unembarrassed by his aIng �hieofveIt.� �nd he
he strove to give 'a psychothe genically honest acco�n� along wIth the
eschewed the conceit ofhaps he ius creating ex nzhzlo, l his de­
desire for disciples. Per nhauer and had been unable to concea
pendence upo n Schope ealed voluntWanl�gne his formative year�,
: inown concrete expen­
tures have experienced. \
but in Ecce Homo he revs of all ages and cul y hIS
ence of what innovatorthe process of demysti fying genius .
In that book, he began
 Notes

ONE A Genealogy of Genius

, pp.
ed. (Oxford: Basi l Blackwell, 1 976)
1 . Theodore Besterman, Voltaire, 3d
1 07-1 6, 569- 77. , pp.
York : Oxford University Pres s, 1 972)
2. Arthur M. Wils on, Diderot (New ent, 1 775� 1800
1 03-7 2, and Robert parn ton, The
Business of the Enlightenm
y Pres s, 1 979) .
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard Universit
Bate , Samu el John son (New York : Harcourt Brace Jovanovich,
3. W. Jackson
1 977) , pp. 240-60. biog-
Individual: Selfand Circumstance in Auto
4. Karl ]. Weintraub, The Value of the
Pres s, 1978 ).
raphy (Chicago: University of Chicago
ues Rou sseau , Confessio ns, tran s. ]. M. Coh en (New York : Peng uin,
5. JeanJacq
u's text.
1953 ), p. 1 7-first page of Rou ssea
d as Will and Representation, trans. E.
F. J.
6. Arthur Schopenhauer, The Worl
[1958]), 2:39 1 .
Payne, 2 vols. (New York: Dover, 1 966
H. Abra ms, The Mirr or and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical
7 . See M.
ersit y Press, 1 9 53).
Tradition (N ew York: Oxford Univ
Words," Words and Idioms. Studies in
8. Logan Pearsall Smit h, "Fou
r Rom antic
n Miffl in, 1 925) , pp. 66-1 34.
the English Lan�age (Bos ton: Houghto given
, in the form of a letter to a frien d, is
&
9. A translation of Nietzsche's essay Chri stop her Midd le­
in the Selected Letters ofFriedrich Nietz sche, ed. tran s. by
Pres s, 1969 ), pp. 4-6.
ton (Chicago: U niyersity of Chic ago
er, A Socia l Histo ry ofMad ness (New York: E. P. Dutt on, 1989 ), pp.
1 0 . See Roy Port
60"..:8 1 . s,
bridge, MA: Harvard University Pres
1 1 . See D. Kern Holo man , Berlioz (Cam
1 989) . s,
1 2. See Piete r Geyl , Napoleon, For and
Against (New Have n: Yale University Pres
1 949) , especially pp. 7-3 1 . 2,
(New York: Schirmer, 1977 ), pp. 1 32-4
1 3. See Maynard Solo mon , Beethoven
de.
for a discu ssion of this complex episo
hey, Emin ent Victorians (New York: Putn am, 1 9 1 8), v-vii .
1 4. Lytton Strac
of the Comp lete Psychological Works (London:
1 5. Sigm und Freud, Standard Edition
Hogarth, 1 961), 2 1 :2 1 1 - 1 2 . rna-
1 6. Karl Marx, The Eigh teenth Brum
aire of Louis Bonaparte (New York: Inte
n sligh tly revis ed.
tional Publishers, 1 963) , p. 1 5. Translatio
220 Notes

TWO The Birth of a Genius?

1 . A somewhat more detailed account of Nietzsche' s family backgrou nd and a

narrative of the events leading to the marriage of his parents may be found
in Richard Blunck, Friedrich Nietzsche: Kindheit und Jugend (Munich: Rein.'
hardt, 1 953), pp. 1 3-29. An even more extensive version (of the same ac.
count) has been published by Curt Paul Janz in his Nietzsche: Biographie, 3
vols. (Munich: Hanser, 1 978-79), 1 . See also Adalbert Oehler, Nietzsches Mut.
ter (Munich: Beck, 1 940), pp. 1 -37.
2. At least one biographer has suggested that this was the source of a H{elong
(ambivalent) preoccupation of Nietzsche with kingliness. Cf. Werner Ross
Der' iingstliche Adler: Friedrich Nietzsches Leben (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlagsanst�
alt, 1 980), pp. 1 4-20.
3. Max Oehler, Zur Ahnentafel Nietzsches (Weimar: n. p., 1 939).
4. Ernst Kretschmer, Geniale Menschen (Berlin: Springer, 1 929), pp. 64-69; for
another side of this, see Robert Minder, "Das Bild des Pfarrhauses in der
deutschen Literatur, von Jean-Paul bis Gottfried Benn," Akademie der Wissen.
schaften und der Literatur in Mainz, no. 4 ( 1 959), pp. 53-78. See also qehler,
Ahnentafel, pp. 4-8.
Kretschmer explains this circumstance by the numerical predominance
of pastors among university-trained Germans, by the difficult examinations
through which the best minds of all classes were selected for the ministry,
and by the tendency of the class to intermarry. Citing Kretschmer' s book,
Oehler even sought to show that the geographical sources of Nietzsche' s an·
cestors contributed to the likelihood of his becoming a poetic and philo­
sophic genius. This, of course, is a rather vulgar Darwinian view. Had Oehler
and Kretschmer been present in Rocken in 1 844 with their theories, the best
they might have done would be to predict that the newborn child would be·
come a pastor himself. Their prospects would not have been better a decade
later, or even in 1 864 when Friedrich entered the university as a student of
theology.
5. This may imply a somewhat different view of the intellectual elite of Germany
than the one elaborated by Fritz Ringer in The Decline of the German Marularins
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1 969), but the term is his.
6. Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche, Das Leben Friedrich Nietzsches, 2 vols. (Leipzig:
Naumann, 1 895), 1 :7-8.
7. Blunck, Friedrich Nietzsche, pp. 2 1 -33, for example, or even R.J. Hollingdale,
Nietzsche, the Man andHis Philosophy (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University
Press, 1 965), p. 5.
8. Friedrich August Nietzsche' s children by his first wife were all twenty-one
years of age or older when their father died in 1 826, as their mother had
died in 1 805. See Forster-Nietzsche, Das Leben Friedrich Nietzsches 1 :6.
9. Both the report from the Gymnasium and the recommendation from the uni·
versity professor are reproduced in Forster-Nietzsche, Das Leben Friedrich
Nietzsches 1 :3-4.
1 0. Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche (Leipzig: Kroner, 1 9 1 2), p. 10.
1 1 . Charles Andler, Friedrich Nietzsche, sa vie et sa pensee, 6 vols. (Paris: Bossard,
1 920-3 1 ), 2:38.
 22 1
Notes

ge Nietzsche,
, sche, Das Leben Friedrich Nzetzsches 1 '. 1 2 , an d Der .J'un
.
1 2 . Forste r-N letz
p. l l . �ly.
1 3. I bid ., p p. 1 3 and 1 2 respectiv zsche, p. 1 3 .
tzsch e, Der ju nge Nzet
1 4. Forster-Nie
1 5. Ibid., p. 1 7.
1 6. Ib id., pp. 1 7 - 1 8.
Nietzsche, p. 29. " to Friedrich
17 . Blu nck , Friedr'ich lett
.
ers m th e "N achberichte
'
letzs� h e 's
1 8 . See Franz isk a N ,
he Ge�amtausg.abe'' Briefe
(eds. Wi lhe lm Ho pp e and
umch: B eck, 1 938 -42 )'' or
tori sch -krz tzsc in his Briejwechsel:
.
Ni etz sch e, His
Karl S chlech ta) , 4 vols . (M rgI. O Co lli and Mazzino Mo ntm an' (Ber1"m. de
tau sga be, eds . GIO , ,
Kritische Gesam
O ehler, Nzetzsches Mutter.
Gruyter, , 1 975) ' 1'. 1 . See also ' ty (N e York' Norton 1 9 50) .
1 9. Erik Erikson, C
hildhood and Socz�
om mon m sY ohist
; �ry. But it is u nhelpful to com-
Circ ular ity is n ot unc . childhood from an
2 0. . e by ?mferrmg a par'tl'cula r
pen sate for lack 0 f eVldenc then expl am ' the a dul t's beh avior on the
ba sic cha ract er trait s, and
adul t's
bas is of the inf erred childhood. roach to
.tIOn WIt . h the scant kn owl edge ab ou t the Nietzsches' app
In con junc at r eadin g popu lar ch'l1 d-
21 .
dev elop men t, one sh ou Id n o te th
chil d eber, whi like ch,
the stages of
0 th e d ay- such as tho se 0f D . G . M . Schr
hood ma nu als f . p l'lCated m . pro to'N aZl' sm- do not lead one any
be n lm .
Nie tzs che , hav e � . of wh a� Fri ed ric h's particular chi ldh oo d was like
clo ser to an appreClatIOn . ans on Advice to Mothers," Journal oj ,
to Hlston . .

See Jay Mec hI'mg , "Advice � , an d th e lev an t po rtions of hIS SIster s

Social History 9 (Fall 1 975): 45- 6
th was of course
. s, wn. tten after his ult im ate b rea��own · Eli sabe m. - depen-
b iog rap hIe tion to have an
a�d thU h rdl Y '1 n a posi
younger than her brother, � . � er acc ou nts are valuable primarily for
ldhoo
dent memory of his earl y chl d heard from othe emb ers source. r m of the family.
tog et h er sto ne' s she ha
gather ing . i mportant
obIOgra h Y was h er m ost
Friedrich's ow n you thful aut the a: an any e arly autobiographical
22 . Frie drich 's autob iog
cy:
rap
v ol.
hy has
of Das
; ; � a
?
s
Le en rz� rzch Nietzsches
.
of
was published in
sou rce- im , me dia 1
' tzsche was pu bh. shed m 1 9 1 2 · , . h.
1 895 and Der Junge Nze " h N'ze t zsc hes 1 ''27'' Nietzsche, Hzst
orzsc
s Leb en Frz edr zc
23. Forster,Nie tzsche, Da . M ette, Karl Schlechta, and
W,er ke, eds Ha ns Joa c
h 1m
kri tische Gesam tausgabe: . . '
Be ck , 1933-40) ' 1 :1 -.32.
Carl Koch,. 5 vol s., (Mumch. ,

Das L�ben Fri " edrich Nzetzsc

hes 1 .27 . t
24. Forster-N Ietzsche,
n l�uca11Y gl'fteod chil dren learnin g to talk late, bu
25 . T h ere is folk lore abo ut h � fi this.
catIons th at mIght con rm .

I have not foun d any pubh "

t aus gabe - We rke 1 : 1 -32 , esp eCl ally 4- 5

.
26. Nietzsche, Histori sch krztzsche Gesam
-
th at Lud wig Nie tzsche
rep orts
27. We rne r Ro ss gIV es
. creden.ce to secon dh an d gstliche Adler, pp. 76 -83.
'

hIS ma rna ' ge. Cf . Der iin

had been ill even befo�e, . Werke 1 :4- 6.
28. Nietzsche, Histor is
ch-krztzsche Ge1
Ma n
�:::��
o
sa '
ew York : Scr ibn er' S , 1 89 1
). It is
2 9 . Ce sar e .Lo mb ros o, The h the nin . en th-
ete
w he ther N l. etzs ch e was fami liar wit
im pO SSIb le to k now . of course IS some-
. epl e s with enius. This Dr. Gutjahr, who
cen tury myth tha t �ssoCl �ted � an,
. An � �aumb�rg physici
thi ng that could be mhe�lted fam�' Iy after they moved th
ere, but who h ad
the Nle tzsc h
apparentl y tre ate d � been epilep tic . Dr.
see n Lu dw ig Nie tzs che , dId cla Im th at Lu dwig had
never
222 Notes

Gutjahr's motives and sources are unclear. But our Nietzsche seems to h e
claimed epileptic fits for himself when he was in the clinic atJena after IS �
breakdown in 1 889. He said he had been subiect J to fits as an adolescent,
. . .
h owever, and smce, the detaIled Journal of the infirmary at Schulpfor'ta
. ' '
mak es no mentIOn 0 f th IS, .It .IS apparently a fiction that Nietzsche had con- ,
cocted for himself in the interim. I suspect that all of this was made up retro-
spectIveI y when It
. . had become apparent that Nietzsche was a genius h
w'It
obvious pathological tendencies.
30. �he first suggestions that Nietzsche had inherited mental illness were pub­
lIshed much later. See for example, P. J. Mobius, Nietzsche (Leipzig: J. A
Barth, 1904). It is, however, fascinating that the whole problem of his father"s
menta 1 1'11 ness owes Its eXIstence to imprecise diagnostic terminol°gY'
. .
Nietzsche refers to his father's Gemiithskrankheit and his sister alternatelY t0
· Gehzrnerwezc
h IS ' . hung and Gehirnerschiitterung. The term "softening of the
.
b ram " seems to have had the ring of medical authority to it in 1 849, for an
autopsy co �� r med th� di�?nosis to the satisfaction of Ludwig' s stepsister,
wh � wrote : sezn. Kopj zst geoffnet worden, und es hat sich bestiitigt, dass er an
einer
Gehzrnerwezchung gestorben ist, welche schon ein Viertel seines Kopfes eingenommen
hatte. " Blunck, Friedrich Nietzsche, p. 32.
3 1 . Heredity and org�ni � illness ca� not be strictly separated from psychology,
.
but we are pnmanly mterested m the peculiarities of Nietzsche's character
manifested while he was yet sane and writing books. It is almost too obvious
that the death of his father would influence his outlook upon life ' and thus
his writing.
32. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 1 :6.
33. Ibid.

THREE Without a Father

1 . Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 1 :7-8; Forster-Nietzsche'
Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. 24-25.
"
2. Forster. Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. 25-27.
3. Oehler, Nietzsche's Mutter� pp. 44-5 1 .
4 . Ibid., pp. 53-54.
5. Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. 27-28. The complexity of the Ger·
man educational system is difficult to appreciate: although in the lower
grades there was only one type of public school and the children of all
classes could attend it together (if the parents did not choose to have their
childr� n prepared for the Gymnasium privately), it was assumed by all that
the chI � dren should be separated in the upper grades to prepare them for
. dIfferent responsibilities. Not till after World War II was the unified
theIr
public school (Gesamtschule) seriously considered in Germany. This was not
even a promment. feature of the various schemes for educational reform
p� blished in the early twentieth century in Germany. Cf. Wolfgang Scheibe,
Dze Rejo:mpiidagogische Bewegung, 1 900-1 932 (Weinheim: Beltz, 1969).
6. �ccordmg to the autobiography, it is only through "common joy and suffer·
mg" that true friendship is made. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
Werke 1 :8.
 Notes 223

9.
7. Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. 28-2
Historisch-kritische Gesam tausgabe: Werke 1 :8-9; and Forster-
8. Nietzsche,
Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, p. 34.
Werke 1 : 1 2- 1 5.
9. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
risch-kritische Gesam tausgabe: Wer'ke 1 :24; Richard Blun ck also
10 . Nietzsche, Histo ichen Feste, Geburtstage, und
hiiusl
wrote, "Seine grossten Seligkeiten sind die Lieblingsworte ein sehr
ist eines seiner
Weihnachten, und bis in seine jiinglingsjahre
keit, ein Begrif f, der dann bei dem kampfenden und
unjugendliches: Gemiithlich
rich Nietzsche, p. 46.
reifenden Manne nicht mehr vorkommt. " Fried
1 1 . Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, p. 33.
1 2. Ibid. , p. 38.
Werke 1 :10-1 1 .
1 3. Nietzsche Historisch -kritische Gesamtausgabe:
,

are obvio us expr essio ns of gran diose fantasies i n which chil­

1 4. Such games
more about the values of a child's
dren act out godl ike roles . They often tell
pt when one can observe
parents than about the child's personality, exce
variations and snags in the stream of play.
1 ; several literary works based
1 5. Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. 50-5 are printed in Nietzsche,
upon the King Eichhorn game survive and
Historisch-kritsche Gesamtausgabe: Werke 1 :320-
21.
refus ed to walk hom e with his sister from parties.
1 6. For example, Friedrich
Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, p. 30.
1 7. Ibid., pp. 48-49.
1 8. Blun ck, Friedrich Nietzsche, p. 43.
sche, pp. 45-4 7.
1 9. Quoted in Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietz
risch-kritische Gesam tausgabe: Werke 1 : 1 3- 1 4.
20. Nietzsche, Histo
2 1 . Ibid., 1 :9-10 .
22. Ibid. , 1 : 1 1 .

FOU R Learning to Learn

Zisterzien-Klosters Pforte (Leip zig:
1 . Robert Pahncke, Schulpforta: Geschichte des
Koehler & Amelang, 1956) .
work on this im,J)ortant institu-
2. There does not seem to be a good general
tion, but in this case Nietzsche's sister seem s to be a reliable witne ss. Elisa ­
82-8 3. For further general
beth Forster-Nietzsche, Der Junge Nietzsche, pp.
that Nietzsche was there, cf.
comments on Pforta at almost the same time
en (Leipzig: Koehler, 2d ed.,
Ulric h von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Erinnerung
1 928), pp. 62-6 3.
Briefe 1 : 1 9; or Briefwechsel I, 1 : 1 6
3. Nietz sche , Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
(October 6 , 1 858).
1 (October 1 7-22 , 1 858).
4. For exam ple, Brieje 1 :24; or Briefwechsel I, 1 :2
1 :24-2 5 (early November 1 858).
5. Ibid. , Briefe 1 :27-2 8; or Briefwechsel I,
sel I, 1 :48 (mid -Febr uary, 1 859).
6. Ibid. , Briefe 1 :51; or Briefwech 1 859).
or Briefw echsel I, 1 :65 (May -Jun e,
7. Ibid. , Briefe 1 :67;
Histo risch- kritische Gesam tausg abe: Werk e 1: 1 1 6.
8. Nietzsche,
9.
9. Forster-Nietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. 88-8
e in drei Biind en, ed. Karl Schle chta, 3 vols.
1 0. Friedrich Nietzsche, Werk
(Miin chen : Hanser, 1 966), 3:1 79.
 224 Notes

1 1 . See Richard Blunck, Friedrich Nietzsche,

. . che I?
krztzs
pp. 67-6 8; Nietzsche(
esamta�gabe: Briefe 1 :61-6 3; or BriejWechse
l I, 1 AP
�:: ;::
. .
� ch.
1 � 59). Fo. ster.N Ietzsche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. I :59-6 ay,
� tzsche, 92-9 4.
1 2. F? rster-NIe Derjunge Nietzsche, p. 90.
1 3. Cited mJa .
nz, Nietzsche 1 :96.
1 4. N�s �i� �agesblatt (September 2, 1 900)
, cited by the edito rs in Niet zsch
H�storzsch-kntzsche Gesamtausgabe: Briefe 1 e,
:339.
1 5. NIetzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
Brief 1 ''340-4 1 . I t appears
Friedrich s pen t ab out 1 50 days m ' the mfIr . that
" . mary m his career at Schu l P forta.
1 6. Fors �er-NIetz sche, Derjunge Nietzsche, pp. "
68-6 9.
1 7. He dId not do well in mo�ern languages eithe
r, but that may have been du e to
lack of talent He never dId develop fluency in
a�ter years of reading French literature with dictio
a modern langu g , n t ven
�
nary in hand or IV�m .?�� taly.
;
1 8. NIetzsche, Historisch·kritische Gesamtausgabe: �
1"
Brier e 1 '27-2 8', or BrZf!.JU/echsel
1,1 :24-2 5.
1 9. Nietzsche Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
�
20. A tr nslatlOn : Werke 5:252 -53.
of this "letter" is given in the Selected Letters of
Friedrich NietZSche'
ed. trans. by Christopher Middleton (Chicago:
Press, 1 969), pp. 4-6. University of Ch Icag ' o
2 1 . Paul Deussen '.Erinneru�er: an rrze D. u
,1rzc
' . ' h N'zetzsche (Leipzig:
22. NIetz .
sche, Hzsto .
. rzsch- Brockhaus, 1901 ), . 5
Phsel.
kntzsche Gesamtausgabe: Briefe 1 .'209- 1 1 .
. .f... . c
, or BTZf!.JU/e
'
1, 1 :236- 37 (April 1 6, 1863) .
23. Deus sen, Erinnerungen, pp. 6-9.
24. B �unck , Friedrich Nietzsche, pp. 85-89, 99.
25. NIetzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
Werke 2:68.
Ich weis s nich t, was ich liebe
ich hab' nicht Friede, nicht RUh'.
ich weiss nicht, was ich glaube,
was lebe ich noch, wozu?
26. B �unck, Friedrich Nietzsche, pp. 71 -72.
27. N � etzsche, Hi�tori�ch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
Werke 5:70- 7 1 .
28. NIetzsche, Hzstorzsch-kritische Gesamtausg
abe: Brier e 1 ' 2 1 1 - 1 2', or BTZf!.JU/ec
1" . ' .f... . hsel
1, 1 :238 (April 27, 1 863).
29. Ibid. , Briefe 1 :2 1 3; or BriejWechsel I, I :239- 40
(May 2, 1 863).

FIVE A Student of Genius

1 . Nietzsche, Werke in drei Banden 3:25 1 -63.
2. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausuabe'
0 .
B ne ' [,e, 1 : 398 -40 � ; and Nietzsche, Briefwech 1"
. Briere hereafter g.Iven
' SImp I y as
. sel: kritis che Gesa mtaus abe
hereafte� gIv�n sImp ly �s Briefwechsel, 1, 1 :41 8-42 3 (May 19 &
3. IbId .
., .Brzefe 1 .245; or BrzejWechsel 1, 1 :282 (June 12, 25, 1 864
1864 ); and Briefe 1 '248-
f. •

o BrzejWechsel 1, 1 :287 (July 4, 1 864). . 49 ,

�
4. N Ietzsch.e, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe:
. Werke 5:254 .
5. IbId. , Brzefe 1:261 -80; or BriejWechsel 1,2:3-22 (Oct
ober' Novemb er, & D ecem-
ber, 1 864).
6. Ibid., Briefe 1 :272- 76; or BriejWechsel I, 2:14-
19.
 Notes 225

7. O. F. Scheuer, Friedrich Nietzsche als Student (Bonn: Albert Ahn, 1923), p. 1 7,

and Paul Deussen, Erinnerungen and Friedrich Nietzsche (Leipzig: F. A. Brock·
haus, 1 90 1), pp. 22-23.
8. Blunck, Friedrich Nietzsche, p. 107.
9. Nietzsche, Briefe 1 :301 ; or Briefwechsel 1,2:43 (February 1 8, 1 865).
10. Scheuer, Friedrich Nietzsche als Student, pp. 42-46.
1 1 . Scheuer, Nietzsche als Student, p. 47, and Martin Havenstein, Nietzsche als
Erzieher· (Berlin: Havenstein, 1922), p. 1 1 3.
12. Deussen was prudish enough himself to put the thought in Latin: "mulier·em
nunquam attigit, " in his Erinnerungen, p. 24. Cf. Blunck, Friedrich Nietzsche, p.
106. Most scholars, even many of those who would like to show that Nietzsche's
later writings were not infected by mental illness, agree that Nietzsche probably

.�1\
(but not certainly) contracted syphilis while still a student. Cf. Walter Kaufmann,
Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist, 4th ed. (Princeton: Princeton U ni­
versity Press, 1974), p. 69. I think that the question remains in more doubt
than the weight of scholarly opinion suggests, especially since Friedrich suf­
fered from most of his later symptoms, especially headaches, at the time he
entered Schulpforta.
1 3. Scheuer, Nietzsche als Student, pp. 44-46. Early in his second semester in Bonn,
Friedrich corresponded about fraternity life with his other friend from Pforta,
Carl von Gersdorff. Gersdorffhad gone to the university at Gottingen where he
joined a Korps, which involved him in considerably more distasteful activities,
including obligatory dueling; he wrote that he was very unhappy and regarded
the whole episode as nothing more than a test of character, to see if he could
survive. In answer, Friedrich noted how much less brutal a Burschenschaft was
than a Korps, but complained that the drinking and the herd mentality of his
fraternity were bad enough. According to Friedrich, the only solution was to
have a circle of a few friends among whom he could find consolation.
(Nietzsche, Briefe 1 :31 1-12, or Briefwechsel 1,2:54-55 [to Gersdorff, May 25, 1 865];
and Briefe 1 :328-29, or Briefwechsel 1,2:70-71 [to W. Pinder,July 6, 1 865].) With
this insight, it is surprising that Friedrich did not renounce his membership
in the Franconia before he left Bonn. Paul Deussen resigned by the end of
the first semester. But Friedrich's decision may have been delayed by the fact
that his discomfort in the fraternity was bound up with his dissatisfaction
with studying theqlogy.
1 4. Cf. Blunck, Der junge Nietzsche, pp. 1 1 1 - 1 3, 1 22, and Nietzsche, Briefe 1 :306-
07; or Briefwechsel 1,2:49 (May 3, 1 865).
1 5. Nietzsche, Ibid., Briefe 2:3-4; or Briefwechsel 1,2:79-81 (to H. Mushacke, Au­
gust 30, 1 865); and Briefe 2:12, or Briefwechsel, 1,2:88-89 (to the Franconia
Burschenschaft, Bonn, October 20, 1 865).
1 6. Ibid., Briefe 1 :31 7-18, and Briefwechsel 1,2:60-61 (June 1 1 , 1865).
1 7. The mss. title page of Ecce Homo in Nietzsche's hand may be found in
Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe, Vl,3:254. Amorfati-Iove of [one's]
fate-is an idea that Nietzsche first explored in The Gay Science #276.
1 8. The most intimate source for this period is another brief autobiography that
he wrote at the end of his second year in Leipzig, when his studies were in·
terrupted by military service. Nietzsche, "Riickblick auf meine zwei Leipzi­
gerJahre," Historisch·kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 3:291 -3 1 6.
226 Notes

1 9 . Ibid., 3:297-98. Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, 4 Biicher, nebst einem Anhang
der die Kritik der Kantischen Philosophie Enthiilt (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1 8 1 9) wa�
Schopenhauer's chief and only systematic work. Translated by E. F. Payne as
The World as Will and Representation, 2 vols. (New York: Dover, 1966).
20. Nietzsche, Werke in drei Biinden 1:295, in English; in Nietzsche, Untimely Medi­
tations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (New York: Cambridge University Press
1 983), p. 133.
'
2 1 . "Riickblick auf meine zwei Leipziger Jahre," Historisch-kritische Gesam.
tausgabe: Werke 3:297-99; also in Werke in dT'ei Biinden 3:132-34.
22. Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale with an Introduction by J. P. Stern
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1 983), pp. 130-36, especially p. 1 36.
23. Paul Deussen had remained in Bonn, and, to Friedrich's disgust, was still
majoring in theology. It seems to have been a year or even two before Friedrich
undertook to initiate Deussen into Schopenhauer's philosophy. There was a rift
in their friendship due perhaps both to Deussen's inability to break with theol­
ogy and to Friedrich's imperious manner with him. Cf. Deussen, Erinnerungen an
Friedrich Nietzsche, pp. 38ff.
24. Ibid., 3:299.
25. Scheuer, Friedrich Nietzsche als Student, p. 63-64.
26. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 3:299.
27. Ibid., 3:299-300.
28. His lectures were (1) "Die letzte Redaction der Theognidea," (2) "Die
biographischen Quellen des Suidas," (3) "Die Pinakes der aristotelischen
Schriften," and (4) "Der Sangerkrieg auf Euboa." They are published in
Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 3:1 37-206, 2 1 2-26, 230-
44; his presidential address is in 3:227-29.
29. Ibid., 3:304-5.
30. Ibid., 3:296-97.
3 1 . Ibid., 3:305-9.
32. Ibid., 3:327.
33. Ibid., 3:305.
34. Before announcing this as the topic of public competition, Ritschl went so
far as to ask Friedrich ifhe was still interested in it. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:106, or
Briefwechsel, 1,2:182-83 (November 1 866) and Briefe 2: 1 1 8- 1 9, or Briefwechsel
1,2 : 1 96 Ganuary 1 6, 1 867).
35. Nietzsche's papers on Diogenes Laertius are "De Laertii Diogenis fontibus,"
"Analecta Laertiana," and "Beitrage zur Quellenkunde und Kritik des
Laertius Diogenes", Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: WeT'ke 4:269ff. (includ­
ing many notes as well as the final products) and Werke: kritische
Gesamtausgabe 11,1 :75-245.
36. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:44-45, or Briefwechsel I, 2 : 1 2 1 (April 7, 1 866).
37. Neither Ritschl's or Friedrich's attitude was unique, however. Ritschl's preju­
dice against philosophy was common to many working philologists and his­
torians, stimulated perhaps by a mistrust of Hegelianism. The great German
historian, Leopold von Ranke, for instance, believed that philosophy of this
sort would corrupt a historian and distract him from the pursuit of the facts,
of what had actually happened. Leopold von Ranke, The Secret of World His­
tory: Selected Writings on the Art and Science ofHistory, ed. & trans. Roger Wines
 Notes 227

(New York: Fordham University Press, 1 98 1 ), and Georg G. Iggers, The Ger­
man Conception ofHistory: the National Tradition ofHistorical Thoughtfrom Herder
to the Present (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan U niv. Press, 1 968).
38. Friedrich's relationship to Schopenhauer was one of comprehensive ideal­
ization. It resembled the transference relationship that arises between a pa­
tient and a psychoanalyst as much as anything else. So that once he had
overcome the depression in which he had been when he discovered
Schopenhauer, the heroic example of a personality totally dedicated to the
pursuit of truth, no matter how unpleasant, became his model. Friedrich was
free to pursue truth himself, and not merely Schopenhauer's truth. Perhaps
Friedrich had begun the search when he abandoned Christianity, or even
earlier, when he wrote his first autobiographical sketch at the age of four­
teen. But in Schopenhauer he found a model of systematic search for truth
that coupled introspection with philosophy and greatly enlarged the scope
of inquiry.
39. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 3:3 1 2-13.
40. Ibid.; see also Erwin Rohde's diary of their trip, 3:423-37.
4 1 . Nietzsche, Briefe 2:163, or Briefwechsel 1,2:238 (to Gersdorff, November 24,
1 867).
42. For Schopenhaue r's biography and an adulatory rendering of his philoso­
phy, see Arthur Hubscher, Denker gegen den Strom (Bonn: Bouvier, 1 973). On
the philosophy of Schopenhauer in English, see Patrick Gardiner,
Schopenhauer (Baltimore: Penguin, 1963), D. W. Hamlyn, Schopenhauer (Lon­
don: Routlege & Kegan Paul, 1 980), and Bryan Magee, The Philosophy of
Schopenhauer' (Oxford: Clarendon, 1 983). English translations of his works,
cited below, are by E. F.]. Payne. They supersede the translation of The World
as Will and Idea by R. B. Haldane and]. Kemp (London: Routledge and
Kegan
Paul, 1 883), although the latter still merits consultation.
43. Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, trans. E. F. J.
Payne (Indian Hill, CO: Falcon's Wing Press, 1 958; reprinted, New York:
Dover, 1966), 1: 1 -9 1 .
44. Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, " 'Reason' in Philosophy," #2.
45. Cf. Alexander Nehamas Nietzsche: Life as Literature (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
"

University Press, 1 985), especially pp. 42-73.

46. Schopenhauer, Th,e World as Will and Representation 1 :93- 1 65.
47. It has also been suggested that Schopenhauer was indebted to Fichte for his
thinking on the will. Cf. Patrick Gardiner, Schopenhauer (Baltimore: Penguin
Books, 1 963), p. 1 4.
48. Friedrich Albert Lange, Geschichte des Materialismus und Kritik seiner Bedeutung
in der Gegenwart, 2 vols. (Iserlohn: J. Baedeker, 1 866); a second edition ap­
peared in 1 873 (Vol. I) and 1 875 (Vol. II); and the second edition has been
reprinted (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1974). An English translation, The History of
Materialism and Criticism of its present Importance, 3 vols. (London: Triibner,
1 879), was made by Ernest Chester Thomas.
49. Briefe 2:83 (end of August 1 866), and Briefwechsel 1,0:1 59-60.
50. Briefe 2: 108 (November 1 866), and Briefwechsel, 1,2: 1 84. His first mention of
Lange was several months earlier, in a letter to Gersdorff (end of August
1 866) Briefe 2:83, and Br iefWechsel I : 1 59-60 , quoted below.
228 Notes

5 1 . Briefe 2:1 82-83 (February 1 6, 1 868), and Briefwechsel l,2:257-58.

52. George G. � tack, Lange and �ietzsche (N ew York: de Gru yter, 1 983). This is
a
very extensIve book attemptmg to show that many if not most of Nietzsche'
s
�·d e�s a:e cloun d m· ru d·Ime�tar: form in Lange's History of Materialism. It is
mdlcatlve � f Stack s ent�usI�stlc attempt to demonstrate the importance of
,
Lange to NIetzsche that, m usmg Friedrich's letter to Mushacke, he translates
Jahrzehnten as "century" rather than "decades."
53. Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale with an Introdu ction
by J. P. Stern (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1 983), pp. 1 25-94.
54. Untimely Meditations, pp. 1 29-30.
55. Ibid., p. 1 63.
56. Ibid., p. 1 36.
57. Kierke��ard and Nietzsche himself were others who took pride in lack of
recogmtI �n and predicted that they would become the mentors of a select
and supenor reader. Cf. my essay, "The Self·sufficient Text in Nietzsche and
Kierkegaard," Yale French Studies, no. 68 ( 1 984), pp. 1 60-88.
58. Oxenford, "Iconoclasm in German Philosophy," The Westminster and Foreign
Quarterly Review NS (April 1 853), pp. 388-407.
59. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:280 (to Rohde, December 9, 1 868), and Briefwechsel 1,2:352.
60. Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, 1:1 95.
6 1 . Ibid., 11:377. Schopenhauer also places his essay on madness immediately
adjacent to his essay on genius in the second volume of The World . as Will and
Representation.
62. Ibid., 11:363-398. Compare also Cesare Lombroso, The Man of Genius (Re.
print New York: Garland, 1 984).
63. Nietzsche, Briefe, 2: 1 57-59; or Briefwechsel, 1,2:232-34 (November 3, 1 867).
64. Nietz�che, Briefe 2: 1 5� ; or Briefwechsel 1,2:233. Schopenhauer's Parerga und
Pamlipomena, klezne . phtlosophische Schriften (Berlin: Hayne, 1 852), 2 vols., con­
sists of a great collection of aphorisms and essays on every imaginable topic,
all seen from Schopenhauer's distinct philosophical point of view. The title
(from Greek) may be freely translated as "afterthoughts and asides."
65. Nietzsche, Briefe 3:234-35, or Briefwechsel 1,3:238-41 (Rohde to Nietzsche,
February 29, 1 868), Briefe 2:1 87-88, or Briefwechsel 1,2:62-63 (Nietzsche to
Rohde, April 3, 1 868), Briefe 2:1 97-98, or Briefwechsel 1,2:272-274 (early May
1 868); and Briefe 2 :202-3, or Briefwechsel 1,2:277-278 (to S. Heynemann, May
9, 1 868).
66. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:208-9, or Briefwechsel 1,2:283-84 (to Deussen, June 2,
1 868), and Briefe 2:2 1 2, or Briefwechsel 1,2:287 (to Rohde, June 6, 1968). .1

Bernays was the author of several articles on Aristotle's notion of catharsis

that seem to have influenced Nietzsche in writing The Birth of Tragedy. See
.

below, chapter 6.
67. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:200, or Briefwechsel 1,2:275 (early May 1 868).
68. Nietzsche, Briefe 2 : 1 80-8 1 , or Briefwechsel 1,2:255-56 (to Gersdorff, February
1 6, 1 868), Briefe 2: 1 73-74; or Briefwechsel l,2:1 48-49 (to Rohde, February 1 -3,
1 868), and Nietzsche, Histor'isch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke, 2 :329-3 1,
"Einfliisse auf die literarhistorischen Studien."
69. The idea was Rohde's. Cf. his letter of February 29, 1 868 in Nietzsche,
 Notes 229

Briefwechsel 1,3:233ff. For N ietzsche's response, see Historisch-kritische

Gesamtausgabe: Briefe, 2:1 88-89, or Briefwechsel 1,2:264 (April 3, 1 868).
70. He wrote his first letter, reporting the accident, three weeks later: Briefe
2:1 85-86, or Briefwechsel l,2:261 -262 (to Rohde, April 3, 1 868).
3,
7 1 . Nietzsche, Briefe 2 : 1 57, or Briefwechsel 1,2:230-3 5 (to Rohde, Novembe r
1 867); Briefe 2 : 1 73, or BriefwechseL I,2:248 (February 1 -3, 1 868); fe
Brie 2 : 1 76, or
Briefwechsel l,2:253-54 (to Mushacke, February 1 3, 1 868); and Briefe, 2:248, or
Briefwechsel l,2:323-24 (to Rohde, Oct. 8, 1 868) [paraphrase from last cited].
72. N ietzsche, Briefe 2:1 99-200, or Briefwechsel 1,2:274-75 (May 3, 1 868).
73. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:2 1 5, or Briefwechsel 1,2:290-9 1 (June 22, 1 868); Briefe 2:240,
or Briefwechsel 1,2:3 1 5- 1 6 (September 1 868); Briefe 2: 1 94, or Briefwechsel
1,2:269 ([on the dissertation topic] April/May 1 868); and Briefe 2 : 1 54, or
Briefwechsel l,2:328-2 9 (OctoberlNovember 1 868).
74. Nietzsche, Briefe 2 : 1 99, or Briefwechsel, 1,2:274-7 5 (May 3-4, 1 968).
75. Nietzsche, Briefe 2 : 1 83, or BriefwechseL I,2:258 (February 1 6, 1 868).
76. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke 3:352-6 1 .
77. Ibid., Briefe 2 : 1 53-54, o r Briefwechsel, 1,2:228-2 9 (October/November 1 867.
See also Brieje, 2:255-56, or Briefwechsel 1,2:328 (October 1 868).
78. Nietzsche , Briefe 2:220, or Briefwechsel 1,2:296 (July 1, 1 868); and Briefe 2:229,
or Briefwechsel, 1,2:305 (August 6, 1 868).
79. See for example Nietzsche, Briefe 2:257, or Briejwechsel, 1,2:329-3 30 (to
Deussen, October 1 868); and Briefe 2:258-60 , or Briefwechsel, 1,2:330-3 2 (to
Rohde, October 27, 1 868).
80. Nietzsche , Briejwechsel I,2: 1 74 (October 1 1 , 1 866).
8 1 . ThisJahn was the same Pforta alumnus, professor of philology in Bonn, and
Mozart biographer already mentioned.
82. Nietzsche, Briefwechsel I,2:322 (to Rohde, October 8, 1 868).
83. Ibid., 1,2:332 (to Rohde, October 27, 1 868).
84. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:265-69, or Briefwechsel 1,2:337-4 1 (to Rohde, November 9,
1 868).
85. Nietzsche , Briefe 2:280, or Briefwechsel 1,2:352 (to Rohde, December 9, 1 868).
(This contains an important passage on Wagner as a genius.)
86. Richard Wagner and Ludwig Nietzsche were both born in 181 �.
87. Johannes Stroux, Nietzsckes Professur in Basel (Jena: Fromman n, 1925), pp. 32-
33. The whole story ofN ietzsche's appointm ent is narrated in the first half of
this small book, which is itself largely a publicatio n of the letters concernin g
Nietzsche's appointment and tenure at the University of Basel, letters that
were found in the university archives in 1 923.
88. Stroux, Nietzsches Professur, pp. 34-37. Another passage in this letter is paren­
thetically interesting for the clear impressio n Ritschl gives of Friedrich 's per­
sonal presentation. Ritschl cautions Vischer, "Should you have the
opportunity to speak with Nietzsche in the meantime, please do not let your
opinion of him be determined by your very first impressio n. He has some­
thing like Odysseus about him, ponderous before he begins to speak, but
then he speaks with powerful language-provocative, winning, convincin g."
P. 36.
89. Stroux, Nietzsches professur, pp. 39-43 (letter and autobiography).
 230 Notes

90. Ibid. , pp. 47-4 9.

9 1 . Ibid ., p. 50.
92. Nietzsche, Historisch-kritische GesamtaUS
0D'abe: Werke 5:25 0-52,' IX'
YYerke tn. drez.
Ba··nden, 3.1 .
. 49-5 0; trans. m .

che, p.
MId dleton, Selected Letters oifFriedrich Niet
46. zs

SIX Emulating Geniuses

1 . Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe 2,1 :247-
69.
2. Ibid. , 2, 1 :252.
3. J. E. Sandys, A History of Classical Scholarshi
p, vol. 3, The Eighteenth Centu
Germany and the Nineteenth Century in Euro ry in
pe and America (Cambridge'.
bridge University Press, 1908 ), pp. 1 - 1 43. C am-
4. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe 2, 1 :253.
5. Ibid. , 2,1 :266.
6. Ibid. , 2,1 :268.
7. Johannes Stroux, Nietzsches Professur in Basel
(lena : From man n, 1 925) ,
man. zes N Ietzsc
' .
he' s actIv ity as an instructor at the University of Base sum-
.
appendix, pp. 94- 1 0 1 . l in an
8. From the memoir o f Nietzsche b y J . A
. Mahly, quoted i n Curt Paul Janz,
Friedrich Nietzsche: Biographie (Mun ich:
Hanser, 1978), 1 :3 1 3.
9. Ibid.
1 0. Cited in Stroux, Nietzsches Professur� pp. 35-3
6.
1 1 . J anz, Nietzsche 1 :389- 90. Nietzsche,
Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III,3 :243
1 2. Jacob Burck� ardt, w.eltgeschichtliche Betra -4 7.
chtungen (Berlin: Spem ann, 1905)
trans. Rejlectzons on Hzstory (Indianapolis: Liber ;
ty Class ics, 1979).
13. Stroux, Nietzsches Professur.
1 4. Bachofen was born in 1 8 1 5, two years after
Nietzsche ' s father. He had been
professor of Roman Law at the university in
. Base l, and member of the town' s
gover� mg council. He came from a wealthy
. fami ly and retired early
vote hImself to pnva te scho larsh ip. His argu men t that a univ ersa to de­
arc� y must have been the predecessor l matri­
of all other hum an socie ties
denve? from vesti ga] moth er-ri ghts that he
disco vere d in anci ent Rom an
law. HIS contemp oraries did not appr eciat
e his work . Only since abou t
1 920 has Bach ofen been regarded as one
of the pion eers of cultu ral an­
thropology.
1 5. N �e�zsche, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausg
abe: Briefe, 3:84; and Briefwechsel,
kntzsche Ge�amtausgabe, II, I : 1 55(to Gers
dorff, November 7, 1 870), on
Burc�� ardt s �ectures on the study of histo
ry: "Zum ersten Male habe ich
V�rgnugen an ezner Vorlesung, dafur ist sie
. , halten .. auch derart, dass ich sie, wenn ich alter
ware konnte. "
1 6. Edgar von Salin ,Jacob Burckhardt und Nietz
sche (Base l: U
niversi tatsb iblio thek
1 �38), p. 54, (to Friedrich Preen, September
27, 1 870) : "Es lebt hier eine;
semer [Schopenhauer' s] Glaubigen, mit welch
em ich bisw eilen konversiere,
so gut ich mich in seiner Sprache ausdrucken
kann ."
1 7. J�cob �urckhardt, Griechische Kulturgesc
hichte, ed. Rud olf Marx, 3 vols. (Leip­
ZIg: Kroner, 1 929).
1 8. Thes e were lectures that led to the book
Weltgeschichtliche Betrachtungen. Cf.
 Hayden White, Metahistory (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1 973), pp. 230ff
1 9. Nietzsche, Briefe 3:84, and Briefwechsel II, 1 : 1 55 (to Gersdorff� Nov. 7, 1 870).
20. Cf. Burckhardt's rather distant letter, written in response to Nietzsche's hav­
ing sent an exemplar of "Vom Nutzen und Nachteile der Historie fUr das
Leben," in Edgar Salin, Burckhardt und Nietzsche, pp. 207-8; and Briefwechsel
II,4:394-95.
2 1 . It was Burckhardt, therefore, who kept Nietzsche at a distance for personal
reasons. And so neither the allegation that Burckhardt dismissed Nietzsche
for his apostasy from the humanist creed, nor the insinuation that Nietzsche
would have rejected Burckhardt for philosophical naivete has much force in
explaining why the relationship did not develop into the sort of
Sternenjreundschajt that Nietzsche had with Wagner. The fullest and least bi·
ased account of the relationship between Nietzsche and Burckhardt can be
found in Werner Kaegi, Jacob Burckhardt: eine Biographie (Basel: Schwabe,
1967 -82), especially 4:49-78 and 7:36-85.
22. This is the traditional version of Nietzsche's first visit to Triebschen, but it
has been called into question byJanz, Nietzsche 1 :293-94.
23. Nietzsche, Brieje 3:325, Briefwechsel II, ] : 1 3 (May 29, 1 869); and Forster­
Nietzsche, DerJunge Nietzsche, pp. 246-48.
24. Janz, Die Brieje Friedrich Nietzsches (Zurich: Editio Academica, 1972), pp. 1 62-
71.
2 5 . Cf. Karl Baedeker, Switzerland, 4th ed . (Coblenz: Karl Baedeker, 1 869).
26. There are accounts by third parties describing their interaction in
Triebschen, and Elisabeth Nietzsche wrote about them extensively too. Cos­
ima Wagner's diaries, Die Tagebucher, /. 1 869- 1 8 7 7, eds. Martin Gregor-Dellin
and Dietrich Mack (Munich: Piper, 1976) are an important and reliable
source. Elisabeth's commentary on the relationship in the early years may be
found in Wagner und Nietzsche, pp. 23-32, but it must be read with caution.
Other sources include the diary of Hans Richter, who was in Triebschen
from September 7, 1 869 until April 1 9, 1 871, published in Otto Strobel, ed.,
Neue Urkunden zur Lebensgeschichte Richard Wagners, 1864-1 882 (Karlsruhe:
Braun, 1939), pp. 1 63-66.
27. Nietzsche, Brieje 3:53-54, and Briefwechsel II, 1 : 1 22-23 (May 21 ,).870). In the
last instance he signed himself as einer der seligen Knaben.
28. Nietzsche, Briefe 2:2/30; and Briefwechsel II,I :8 (May 22, 1 869). Nietzsche here
is thinking in terms ofSchopenhauer' s theory ofthe genius.
29. Of course there are several very critical biographies of Wagner that often
take Nietzsche's side on these matters; for example, Ernest Newman, The Life
ofRichard Wagner, 4 vols. (New York: Knopf� 1 933-46), 4.
30. All but the most sycophantic biographers acknowledge the disparity be·
tween the greatness of Wagner's creative genius and his personality. Ernest
Newman' s The Life of Richard Wagner is not complete in the fourth volume
that deals with the period that Wagner spent in Triebschen and Bayreuth.
More satisfactory for this period are the briefer works of Robert Gutman,
Richard Wagner, the Man, His Mind, and His Music (New York: Harcourt Brace
Jovanovich, 1 968), and Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner, His Life, His
Work, His Century, trans. ]. M. Br'O wnjohn (New York: Harcourt BraceJovan-
 232 Notes

ovich, 1983). See also Curt von Westernhagen, Wagner, a Biogra

phy, 2 vol s.
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1978); Derek Watso
n, Richard Wag_
ner, a Biograp�y (N ew York: Schirmer Book s, 1979)
; and Ronald Taylor, Rich­
ard Wagner, His Life, Art, and Though t (New York: Taplin
ger, 1 979). All of these
books contain evaluations of the Nietzsche-Wagner relatio
nship.
3 ! . See Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner 4:1 53-73 ,
and Robert W. Gutman
Richard Wagner; pp. 230-2 86. Gutma n's account is fuller. '
32. Richard Wagners Briefe, 1 7:542, and Nietzsche, Briefw
echsel 11,4:10 4 (October
24, 1872). See also Cosim a's Tagebucher 1 : 1 67.
33. There is now a surp isingly welI- alanced treatm ent of
� � the relationsh ip by r
Geoffrey Skelton, Rzchard and Coszma Wagner; a Bzogra
. Phy ofa Marria
ton: Houghton Mifflin, 1982). The basic sources remain Wagne ge (Bos.
r's "brown
book," The Diary ofRichard Wagner; 1 865-1 882: the Brown Book,
presented and
annotated by Joachim Bergfeld, translated by George Bird (Lond
on: Victor
, 1 869-, edited
Gollancz, 1 980), and Cosim a Wagner's Tagebucher or Diaries
and annotated by Martin Gregor-Delli n and Dietrich Mack,
translated with
an in troduction by Geoffrey Skelton, 2 vols. (New York: Harco
. urt BraceJov­
anovlch, 1978 [German edition, Munic h: Piper, 1976-7 7]).
34. Die Briefe Cosima Wagners und Friedrich Nietzsche, ed. E. Thierb
ach, 2 vols;, 12th
and 13th 'Jahresgaben der Gesellschaft der Freunde des Nietzs
che-Archivs"
(Weimar: 1940). The correspondence now app�ars in
Nietzsche's Brief
wechsel: kritische Gesamtausgabe.
35. Nietzsche, Briefiuechsel 111, 1 :5-6 (to Malwida von Meyse
nbug,Jan 14, 1 880).
36. Her vast manu script was finally publis hed for essent ially
schola rly reasons
by biographers of Wagner only in the 1970s.
37. Richa rd Wagner, Mein Leben: erste authentische Veroffentlich
ung (Muni ch: List,
1 963).
38. Richa�d Wagner, Beethoven (Leipz ig: Fritzsch, 1 870), and
Gesammelte Schriften
und Dzchtungen, 2d ed. (Leipzig: Fritzsch, 1888), 9:6
1 - 1 26. The influence of
Nietzsche and SChopenhauer upon this essay is discussed
by Gutman, Rich­
ard Wagner; pp. 294-9 6 and 3 1 8-22. See also Cosim
a's Tagebucher' 1 : 1 92 and
1 :253ff.
39. Forster"Nietzsche, Wagner und Nietzsche, pp. 28-32 .
40. It is noteworthy that Friedrich's letters to Ritschl in the
first year in Basel- in
marked contrast to his letters to Triebschen-contain freque
nt compl aints
about his lack of time. For example, Briefe 3:42 and 3:54-5 5,
and Briefwechsel
11, 1 : 1 10 (March 28, 1870) and 11, 1 : 1 23 (June 1 870).
4 ! . See, for examp le, Wagner's letter of February 4, 1 870,
in Forster-Nietzsche,
Wagner und Nietzsche, pp. 33-34 .
42. Richard Wagner, Beethoven (Leipzig: Fritsc h, 1870).
43. Forster-Nietzsche, Wagner und Nietzsche, p. 87.

SEVEN First Works

1. "Das Griechische Musikdrama," and "Socrates und die
Tragodie" were
given as lectures on January 18 and February 1, 1 870. They
were published
as the first two 'Jahresgaben del' Gesellschaft del' Freunde
des Nietzsche.
Archivs" (Leipzig: Hadl, 1927) and now appear in Nietzsche,
Wer'ke: kritische
 Notes 233

Gesamtausgabe, ed. Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari (Berlin: de Gruyter,

1 967- ) 111,2:3-22 and 23-41 respectively.
2. Nietzsche, Briefe III:28, or Briefiuechsel 11,1 :95 (February 1 5, 1 870).
3. In early 1 870 Nietzsche alre'ady had the seminal ideas of The Birth of Trart.edy.
What he did not have was a plan to write a book. However, there was httle
prospect of publishing his lectures as essays, since no philological journal
would have considered anything so speculative.
Ritschl also encouraged Nietzsche to write a book, but he had not seen
Nietzsche's lectures on Socrates and on tragedy; he had no idea of how am·
bitiously, speculatively, and controversially Nietzsche was now thinking, or
what sort of a book he would actually write. Ritschl merely suggested that
Nietzsche should write something more unified than the articles published
in Das Rheinische Museum fur Philologie, a monograph. Ritschl knew that if
Nietzsche wrote a book.length treatment of a philological topic that dis·
played the talents he had shown in his articles, he would immediately estab·
lish himself as one of Germany's premier professors of philology. He would
be able to have any job he wanted in a German university. Nietzsche,
Briefwechsel ll,2:75-76 (Nov. 5, 1869).
4. Robert Gutman makes less of Nietzsche's influence on Wagner's essay in his
Richard Wagner: the Man, His Mind and His Music (N ew York: Harcourt Brace
.
Jovanovich, 1 968), pp. 294-95 and 3 1 8-19. He does ackn �wledge th�Ir con­
versations on Schopenhauer to have:: been part of Wagner s prepar�tIo � fO.r
writing Beethoven, but finds so little good about that boo � and so httl � m It
that relates to Schopenhauer's thinking that there is nothmg left for him to
credit to Nietzsche.
5. Nietzsche, Briefiuechsel II,2:1 37 (Wagner to Nietzsche, Feb. 4, 1 870) and
II,2: 146 (Wagner to Nietzsche, Feb. 1 2, 1 870).
6. See Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, Nietzsche's alle­
giance to Schopenhauer's view is documented in part by hi � w�ll . mar ked
copy of Eduard Hanslick's Yom musikalisch·Schiinen, 3d e �. (LeipZIg: Welg . l,
�
1 865). A general discussion of Nietzsche's musical aesthetiCS can be found m
Frederick R. Love, Young Nietzsche and the Wagnerian Experience (New York:
AMS, 1966).
7. As two recent students of The Birth of Traged,y have written, Nietzsche's task
"was not simply to come to terms with Wagner's music and drama, but to
reconcile his theory of it with his actual practice." M. S. Silk and]. P. Stern,
Nietzsche on Traged,y (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1 981), p. 53.
8. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III,2:45-69.
9. Under the title "Die Geburt des tragischen Gedankens," ibid., 111,2:71-9 1 .
1 0 . The chronologicallyfirst of these i s divided into fifteen chapters and resem­
bles the first part of what was ultimately published as The Birth of Traged,y,
which also has fifteen chapters; but ten consecutive pflges of this work do not
appear in The Birth of Tragedy, and the first part of The Birth of Tra�ed� con­
tains two passages amounting to fifteen pages which do not appear m it.
This mss, along with a dedicatory epistle to Richard Wagner, was s�bmlt ..
ted to the publisher Engelmann in April 1 87 1 under the title Muszk und
Tragodie, but it was soon withdrawn. (Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III,2:42-
69. Cf. Nietzsche, Briefe 3:1 20-2 1, or Briefwechsel 11, 1 : 193-94 [draft of a letter
234 Notes

to Engelmann, April 20, 1 871]; Br'iefe 3:1 26, or Briefwechsel II, 1 :200 [to
gelmann, June 1 871]; and Briefe 3:164-65, or Briefwechsel II, 1 :241 -42
Fritzsch, November 1 8, 1871 ].)
The second, much shorter version, not divided into chapters, consists o
f
those parts of chapters 8- 1 5 of the first version that would appear unaltere
d
in The Birth of Tragedy; after the first version that would appear unaltered i n
The Birth of Traged,y; after the first version was withdrawn from Engelm ann
this second one was published privately under the title Socrates und di ;
griechische Tragodie and found its way to the Wagners. (Nietzsche, SokrateS Und
die griechische Tragiidie: ursp1"ungliche Fassung der Geburt der Tragodie aus dem
Geiste der Musik, edited by H.J. Mette [Munich: Beck, 1 933]. Cf. Mette's pr f. ..�
ace and "Nachbericht," pp. 107-09. This version now appears also in '
Nietzsche's Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III,2:93-132.)
Then finally, at Wagner's suggestion, Nietzsche submitted a revised ver­
sion of the fifteen chapters ofMusik und Tragodie to Wagner's own publisher,
E. W. Fritzsch in Leipzig, with a different dedication to Wagner.
Nietzsche might have withdrawn the first version from Engelmann sim­
ply because the latter was slow about deciding to publish it, as some coJ.u­
mentators have suggested. (N ietzsche, Briefe 3: 1 26, or Br-iefwechsel II, 1 :200 [to
Engelmann,June 1871 ].) But if Nietzsche had not had s-econd thoughts of his
own, he should logically have submitted it unchanged to Fritzsch, as Wagner
i? fact re� omme �ded. (Wagne.r had not actually seen it.) However, the long
fIrst verSIOn carned the wornsome tendencies of the fourth part of "Die
Dionysian Weltanschauung" even further, particularly in the pages that
were never published at all; here Nietzsche disagreed squarely with
Schopenhauer on the question of the will, and yet returned to the
Schopenhauerian position with regard to music, which he placed "beyond"
drama. Furthermore, in these unpublished pages, Nietzsche mentioned
Wagner himself somewhat ambiguously. (Nietzsche, Werke: kritische
Gesamtausgabe III,2:63-69.) Apparently he felt he could not publish that ver­
sion. What he published privately instead was the shorter second version,
Socrates und die griechische Tragodie, which he was sure would not upset
Wagner.
Printing this truncated version of his work was the safest thing Nietzsche
could have done as far as Wagner's opinion of him was concerned. It might
have been entitled "The Death of Tragedy," since it dealt primarily with Eu·
ripides, Socratism, and the debilitating effects of rationalism upon Attic
tragedy. It left out his own account of the origins of tragedy as well as his
explanation of how tragedy might be reborn in Germany. Thus he avoided
any encroachment upon Wagner's views of the composer's own work.
Once this was published, however, Nietzsche took courage once again.
He revised the first fifteen chapters once more and sent them to Fritzsch. But
then, while they were being set in type, Nietzsche surprisingly came up with
ten more chapters, that became the last ten chapters of The Birth of Tragedy. It
is not known exactly when he wrote these additional chapters. Whether
Wagner pressured him to include an analysis of the contemporary scene is
also uncertain. But, whatever their origin, Nietzsche had apparently shown
these chapters to no one until he sent them to Fritzsch. Neither Rohde nor
 Notes 235

the Wagners had seen them until all twenty-five �hap �ers o �
the first edition
.
of Tragedy Out of the Spirit of Music arnved m Tnebsc hen m Janu-
of The Birth
ary 1 872.
s were not added
: !
1 1 . Even S ilk and Stern, who argue that the las t ten chapter
in haste, acknow ledge in their summa ry of the argume nt of the book that 1

they constitu te a distinct second part. Nietzsch e on Tragedy , pp. 62-89, esp.
p. 79.
12. N ietzsche, The Birth of Traged,y and the Case of Wagner, trans. Walter
Kaufma nn,
p. 33.
1 3. Ibid., p. 38.
of the catego-
14. For a more extensive summary and critique of Nietzsch e's use
ries "Apollin ian" and "Dionys ian," see S ilk and Stern, Nietzsch e on Traged,y,
esp. pp. 1 66-85, and 209-1 6.
1 5. Cf. Nietzsche, The Birth of Traged,y and The Case of Wagner,
trans. Walter
Kaufmann, pp. 33-34, 1 24-30, 1 39-43.
1 6. Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy and The Case of Wagner, p. 98.
1 7. Ibid., p. 99.
18. Ibid.
19. Ibid., pp. 1 00-1 0 1 . . .
mvent-
Freud made a similar move in using his analysis of his dream about
20.
ing psychoanalysis-the "dream of I �ma's injectio n"-as th.
�
e eX mplar y
, Freud , s
interpre tation in The Interpre tatzon f
o Dreams. Cf. my article,
'Specim en Dream,'" Partisan Review, 54,2(198 7):305-2 0.
dream
.
e�plam� d �he

I
2 1 . Perhaps Nietzsche's proudest accomp lishmen t was to have ,
done JustIce
chorus of Greek tragedy. In Chapte r 17 he claims that he had
to the primitiv e and astonish ing meanin g of the chorus. " I
for the first time
Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, p. 1 05.
theory of
In chapters 7 and 8 Nietzsche discounted Aristotle's politica l
the "representative " chorus as well as A. W. Schlege l's "ide
.
al � p� ctator'� the­
he showed that the satyr chorus represe nts humam ty m ItS undIffer­
sis. And
r derives a
entiated, primitive state, "behind all civilizat ion." The spectato
"metaphysical comfort" from identify ing with the chorus, a co � fort of
that compen sates for the pain of having looke, d mto the
Dionysi an wisdom
epheme ral quality of individu al l ife.
N ietzsche also claimed to have explained the effect of tragedy upon the
'
spectator for the first time. Nietzsche, The Birth of Traged,y, p- 1 30.
22. Ibid., p .. 52.
23. Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, p. 1 2 1 .
24. Ibid., p . 122.
2 5. Ibid., p. 1 22.
26. Ibid., p. 105.
27. Ibid., pp. 106 & 98.
28. Ibid., p. 106.
self-portrait" of
29. Walter Kaufmann calls one of these passages an "idealiz ed
the author. Nietzsch e, The Birth of Tragedy, p. 98 (footno te 1 0).
30. Nietzsche, Briefe 3: 1 92-93, Briefwechsel II, 1 :271 -72 (January 2, 1 872).
3 1 . Nietzsche, Briefwechsel II,2:493 (January 5, 1 872).
32. Nietzsche, Briefe 3:193, Briefwechsel II, 1 :272-73 (January 10, 1 872).
236 Notes

33. �regor-Dellin, Ric�ard Wa�.er� p. . 405. It is interesting that Gregor Dellin

gIV�S Wagner credIt for pralsmg NIetzsche's book, but he persists in the Wag _

nenan myth that everything original in the book was Wagner's-an id ea that
Wagner' he ld I ater m hIS lIfe, after he had become embittered ab out
. . .
.
NIetzsche's "betrayal" of him, but certainly not at this point.
34. Nietzsche, Briefwechsel 11,2:503-5 (January 10, 1 872).
35. Ibid., 11,2:505 (January 10, 1 872).
36. Ibid., 11,2:504 (January 1 0 , 1 872).
37. Ib id., 11,2:5 1 0 - 1 3 (Cosima Wagner to Nietzsche,January 1 8, 1 872).
.
38. NIetzsche, Briefwechsel 11,2:5 1 0.
39. Ibid., 11,2:5 1 1 .
40. "geistreiche Schwiemelei, " translated by Silk and Stern as "ingenious d ISSIp ' . a-
.
tIon. " N'zetzsche on Tragedy, p. 92 .
.Nietzsche's request for Ritschl's opinion is found in his BrieJe 3:20 1 -2, or
�
Brz echsel 11, 1 :281 -82 (January �O, 1 872); Ritschl's answer in Briefwechsel
� �
1I, .541 -43 (Feb. 4, 1 872); and NIetzsche's comments on Ritschl's letter in
�
B:zef� 3:2 1 4, or rzefwechsel 11, 1 :295 (to Rohde, February 1 872). Ritschl noted
h�s dls pl�as�re ';Ith The Birth of Tragedy and his dismay at Nietzsche's request for
. .
hI� opmlon m hIS dIary, excerpted in the "Nachbericht," 3:461 under "619."
41 . NIetzsche, BrieJe 3:46 1 ("6 1 9").
42. �
S e, for example, Allan Bloom, The Closing of the American Mind (New York:
SImon & Schuster, 1 987).
43. W ilamowitz-Moellendorff, Zukunjtsphilologie! eine Erwiderung auf Friedrich
.
Nzetzsches "Geburt der TragOdie" (Berlin: Borntrager, 1 872). This was later sup­
�
plemented by Z unftsfhilologie. Zweites Stuck, eine Erwiderung auf die
Nietzsches "Geburt der Trna-odie" (B errIn.
�
Rettungsversuche fur Frzedrzch . -0 ' '

..
B orntrager, 1 873 ). The title is an ironical play on the phrase Zukunftsmusik
�
that had b en applied to Wagner's music. These and the documents cited in
�
th . followmg footnotes are all reprinted and may be consulted in Karlfried
Grunder, ed., Der Streit um Nietzsche's "Geburt der Tragodie. " Die Schriften von E.
�
Rohde, R. Wagn�r� U. von Wilamo itz-Moellend01ff ( Hildesheim: Olms, 1 969).
44. �
R hde, Ajterphzlologze. . Sendschrezben eines Philologen an Richard Wagner (Lei pzig:
� }
Fntsc , 1 872 . C f. Walter Kaufmann's discussion of the significance of
Rohde s title m hIS preface to The Birth of Tragedy, pp. 5-7.
. .
45. Wagner, "An Friedrich Ni etzsche," Norddeutsch� Allgemeine Zeitung (June 1 2,
1 873), and Gesammelte ScMiften . und Dichtungen 9:295-305.
46. Rohde consequently found himself in an awkward position when he came to
repudiate Wi lamowitz-Moellendorffs attack. Nietzsche (and Wagner too)
� .
ould have lIked to have Rohde answer as a philologist in a philological
Jo�rnal. But The Birth of Tragedy simply could not be defended as historicist
phIlology. So Rohde published his response as an open letter to Wagner in a
Journal favorable to the composer, the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung.
�
He ade it clear that he too acknowledged Wagner as his culture-hero,
.
and praIsed NIetzsche for what he was doing to help the Wagnerian cause.
� :
B t that was o no interest to philologists, except perhaps by bringing Rohde
.
hImself mto dIsrepute along with his friend. All he could say on philological
�
gr�unds was that Wilamowit -Moellendorff had made his own egregious ,
.
phIlologIcal errors, and he pomted these out in comparably satiric fashion,
 1! 1, l \"I:'!,mI!"'
iT
237 I iF )
Notes

e
pages of comparable type besid
and at even greater length (fifty , in his defe nse of
ght). Unfortun ately
Wila mow itz-Moellendorffs twenty-ei
de lowe red him self to the level of the attacker. And he gave
ity for a rejoi nder . As a youthful
Nietzsch e, Roh
rtun
Wila mow itz-Moellendorff the oppo ly
a job hims elf, however, he coul d hard .
professional philo logis t in need of ulou s cree d; so hIS
histo ricis m was a ridic
join the main issue and expl ain that
letter was unhe lpfu l.
ix and often confusing Wagner who
Odd ly enough, it was the usua lly prol s than
ter humor and in far fewer word
clarified the issue , with much grea obsc ure it. H is brief
de had requ ired to
Wilamowitz-M oelle ndorf and Roh the Nordd eutsc he AL-
in the same issue of
letter to Nietzsche was published itz­
Wag ner bega n by citin g Wila mow
1gemeine Zeitung as Rohde's lette r. purp ose of class ical
about how it was the
Moe llendorffs conc ludin g phra ses
insti ll in the yout h of Germ any the eter nally valu able idea ls of
philo logy to ists
aske simp ly if this was what phil olog
d
the anci ent cultures. And then he ies he show ed
narr ation of the poss ibilit
were actu ally doin g. In an amu sing i�g mo � e teac h�rs
g noth ing but train
that professors of philology were doin
and writ ing noth ing for anyo ne but other phIl olog lsts' nlIke l!
of philology ,
and med icine, they apparently dId not
theologians or professors of law
to society at large. They suffered from
deign to contribute anything useful nal def-
footnotes, and excessive professio
overspecialization, suffocation by
erence to each other. that
histo ricis m, according to Wagner,
Phil ology was so encumbered by
purpose. And yet they had an imp �
o ­
philo logis ts had lost all sight of their atur e for the bene fIt
alize anci ent liter
tant miss ion to fulfi ll, namely to actu each gene ratio n of
it relev ant anew for
of their contemporaries, to make lling
g peop le, for artis ts, and for the whole educated pub lic. Not fulfi
youn ble for the cul­
selves partially resp onsi
their miss ion, they had made them
nineteenth cent ury.
tural stagnation of Germany in the lled
Wagner in conc lusio n mad e clea r that he thought Nietzsche had fulfi
ague s. Niet zsch e had writ ten a book
colle
this resp onsi bilit y like none of his on cru­
ner and othe r artis ts. It shed light
on a vital topic of interest to Wag ten it with out the
And Nietzsche had writ
cial prob lems of mod ern cultu re. lars that usua lly ob­
ns from othe r scho
clutt er of footnotes and quo tatio licly ackn owle dged
ersta ndin g. He pub
scured phil olog y from the pub lic und ire a refo rm of
that Nietzsche wou ld insp
Nietzsche's creativity and predicted e out to be a true phil ol­
He made Nietzsch
German educational insti tutio ns. to
mor e than a phil olog ist. The se remarks were well calculate�
ogis t, and pub lIc to
nced members of the educated
draw the attention of the mos t adva muc h influ ence
opin ion coul d not have
Nietzsche's work. But Wagner' s

fwechsel II,3:89-90 (to Wagner, Nov

upon philo logis ts- ember,
47_ Nietzsche, Briefe 3:320 -2 1 , or Brie
I '
1 872). 1 872) .
hsel 11, 1 :276 (to Wag ner,Janu ary 24,
48. Niet zsch e, Briefe, 3: 1 96 or Briejwec
Cf. Forster-Nietzsche, WagneT und
Nietzsche, pp. 98- 1 00.
are
res have neve r been tran slated into Eng lish. In German they
49. The lectu
itische Gesamtausgabe, III,2 : 1 33-2 44; and
accessible in Nietzsche, Werke: kr'
Werke in dTei Biinden III: 1 75-2 63.
238 Notes

50. Werner Ross, Der iingstliche Adler: Friedrich Nietzsches Leben (Stuttgart..
D �utsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1 980), pp. 346-53.
0
5 1 . NIetzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtauso-abe III "2 : 1 58 and W.er'ke zn
' drez' Banden
"
III : 1 90 .
52. The phil ? sopher and hi � companion agreed that nineteenth-century soc iety
was dommated by the mIddle classes and the doctrines of political eco
In that milieu, more educ�tion meant more production and consu m;:�
an � th �refore more happmess: the greatest good for the greatest nu mber
�hIS mIght n�t be so ba�, the philosopher seemed to suggest, if all the addi: 0

tI� nal educatmg were lImited to the trades and to occupational st d'les.
NIetzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III "
2 : 1 59 and
. Werke 'n drez' B�a'nden
III: 1 9 1 .
53. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III " 2:209' and Werke in drez' Ba"nden
III:233-34.
54. Se�, fO r exam � le, Mari lyn � utler, The T,yranny of Greece Over Germany (Cam­
.
brldge.. Cambndge Umverslty Press, 1 935). Her book attempted to link the
.
fa Ilme of educated Germans to resist Hitler to their humanistic educaf
,
55. NIetzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III,2: 1 60, and Werke in drei
. understandably, the working class has demanded adm'ISSIon
B���
.
III: 1 92. QUIte - to
el'1 te educatIOnaI mstltut� ons. But at the time that Nietzsche gave his lectures
. . .
the very, thoug� t of workmg-class youths entering the Gymnasium was consid­
ered so fantastIc and outrageous as to demonstrate ipsofacto the bankruptc
,
of nmeteenth-century attempts to broaden the base of the educational sys�
tem.
56. See above, Chapter 6" pp. 5-6,
57. The Gymnasium offered a German analogue of what is called a liberal arts
' m . .
educa t IOn AmerIca. The princi p al differences are that the G:ymnasium pro-
. . . .
vI ded-and stIll does provlde-a rIgorous general education to selected pu­
.
pIls at a younger age. While American teenagers attend high schools that
attempt to educate them all equally, Germany has traditionally had a sepa­
r�te sc� ool-the Gymnasium-for those who will go on to attend the univer­
SIty. WI th the less academically gifted pupils attending trade schools, the
Gymnaszum , c uld present more advanced material and demand higher stan­
�
dards of achIevement from younger students than does the American high
school. Lest we console ourselves with the thought that our educational sys­
tem wa� more democratic if not quite as excellent, we should remember that
�t the tIme of Nietzsche's writing the American high school had not yet been
mvented! �nd even today German students with the Abitur-the certificate ,j

of gr�duatIOn from the Gy�nasium-are generally as broadly educated as

Amenc�n students graduatmg from college with a four-year baccalaureate
�eg�ee: ,If not more so. (Of �ourse they still lack the specialized training in a
major �eld that �tudents m both countries get in the university.)
The dIfference IS the�ef?re more than elitism versus democracy. Ameri­
.
can stu�en �s acq� Ire theIr lIberal education in college, along with their con­
centratIOn m maJ ? r and minor fields of study. There is necessarily a tension
bet.ween the reqUIrements of a major field and courses in general education,
,;hlch are .often perceived-especially in the sciences-as needless distrac­
tIOns; and m fact, general education courses are often aimless. American stu-
 239
Notes

a
requ irements by cho osin g amo ng
den ts fulfi ll thei r general education s. The se cou rses
have no prerequ isite
large number of college courses that
is, they are unr elated to other courses the student
mination beyo� d the course gra�e.
are not cumulative; that Ger­
may take, and do not lead to any exa edu catI On be­
t master theIr general
man students, on the other hand, mus or twe n y (gen er �lly
age of nineteen �
fore they enter the university, by the s). The Gym nasz al edu catI on
counterpart
one year later than their American l exa min atio ns that cove r all of
to fina
is strictly cumulative in that it leads up one grad uate s.
and determine whether
the subjects one has take n at scho ol for mor e spec iali zed
vide a fou ndation
Thus the Gymnasium attempts to pro and to inoc ulate students agamst
.
e, in med icin e or law,
training, for exampl
mate profess ions . , " den
bec omi ng mere specialists in their ulti ,
Wer ke: kritische Gesamtau sgab e 111,2 : 1 69, and Werke zn drez Ban
58. Nie tzsc he,
III:2 00. ke in drei Biinden
mtausgabe III,2 :243 -44 , and Wer
59. Nie tzsche, Werke: kritische Gesa
mtausgabe III, 2:24 2 , and Werke
111:263 . in drei Biinden
60. Nietzsche, Wer'ke: kritische Gesa
111:26 2. ke in drei Biinden
mtausgabe I1I,2 :191 -92 , and Wer
6 1 . Nietzsche, Werke: kr'itische Gesa
111:2 1 8- 1 9. ke in drei Biinden
Gesamtausgabe 111,2 : 1 90, and Wer
62. Nietzsche, Wer'ke: kritische
III:2 1 8. ies of Bourgeois
s: Culture, Politics, and the Boundar
63. Jerrold Seig el, Bohemian Pari
Life, 1 830- 1 930 (N ew York: Vik
ing, 1 986). sense
to spea k of a "natural" aristocracy, but the
64. It had long been com mon it the aris tocr acy of bloo d, the
to discred
of that expression had been sim ply er
the ancien regim e. But the aristocracy of bloo d was no long
ruling class of , mem ber s of
artistic expression. In fact
much of a threat to intellectual and reci ate avan t-ga rde
ones who cou ld app
the old aristocracy wer e often the art.
com mon taste of the bourgeoisie that threatened
art, while it was the
ishe d from the bou rgeo is! e by reso rt
And the genius could only be distingu arIs tocr acy of
circle of genius was an
to the theory of separate birth. The of
lead . Sinc e then there has always been a band
peo ple born to create and e of them selv es as far � ore
who conceiv
progressive artists and intellectuals
than ,the mos t pro gres sive poli ticia ns. As if the non-aesthetIc do­
progressive
efin ition at this time .
mai ns became non progressive by re-d

EIG HT Strugglefor Autonomy

iften und
1 . See Wagner's description
of the event in his Gesammelte Schr
ke in drei Biin den 1 :367 -
Dichtungen 9:32 2-44, Nietzsche'S
description in Wer
ard Wag ner 4:35 0-6 4.
The Life oj Rich
434 , and New man 's account in 04 (Oc tobe r 24, 1 872 ). See
Wagners 1 7:54 2; Briejwechsel II,4 :1
2. Die Briefe Richard
67.
also Cos ima Wag ner 's Tagebucher 1 :1 e. Freud
3. Thi s is a provocation that crea
tive individuals not infrequently issu
is a good exam ple. . -
Ber gfel d, "Sie ben unb eka nnt e Briefe Friedrich Nie tzsches an RIch
4. Joachim 8 1 , and
ssenschaft 27 (1970), pp. 1 79-
ard Wagner," Ar'chiv fur Musikwi
 �40
Notes

Briefwechsel II,3 :6 1-63 (Oc

tober 15 1 872) ' Dze' Bnef
44, and Brie'jW
•
�"echsel II , 4 '. 102 -6 (0 cto' b er ' . e Rzc . hard Wagners 1 7: -
540
5. Th Ierbach , Die Br'ie'.Ie ' 2 4 1872)
' a U!
•

. '{;e COszm vvagners an Fne ,

Briefwechsel lI , 4 .' 142 45 (D . dnch' Nietzsche 2 .'43, and
6. Nietz sche, Werke: kn�tzsc ,. ecem ber 4, 1872).
. he Gesamtausgabe III ,2:2
7. Unfor tunately, Nietzsche's letter 45- 86.
Naumburg instead of to Ba informing th. e Wagners th at he was goi ng to
reuth for ChrIstmas was
Bayreuth by Wagner's heirs
sh ip.
i a o ng WIt. h many other later destroyed in
artifacts of the relation_
8. Thierbach, Die Brieje
Cosima "WI ers an
�r'iefwechsel lI,4:20 7 (Febru
ary !; " Frzedrzch Nietzsche 2:4
4, and
SIO n in his "Drei un bekann 1 2 1 3). ' S ee also JoachIm , B
ergfeld's di scu s-
te B rIe
: f·e N Ietzsches an C OSIm
und Kothurn. Vierteljahressc ,. ' a Wagner," Maske
hrijt filr Theaterwzsse nschajt 1 0 (19 64): 597-60
9. Nietzsche, Br"iefe 3:3 60- 2.
6 1 and Brie�" jUJechsel I�,3: 131 -32 (M
a� d Br"iefwechsel ll,4 :23 3-2 5 Bnef
1 0. Schlechta and Thierbac '
h , D'ze " e des Frezherrn C arch 2, 1 87 3).
1 1 . NIe tzsche, Br"iefe 3:3 49 and (March 9' 1873). ,
arl von Gersdorff 2:50 - 51,
3 '. 353 - 54, and Bnefwechs
a� d 11,3: 1 24 (Feb. 2 1 , 1873). el ll,3: 1 2 1 (Jan. 31 , 1873),
12. NIetzsche, Werke: kritisc
he Gesam
troduction, by Marianne Co taus b 1I1,2:29�- 366_ T ranslated, with an in­
�: :
wan N t sche, PhzlosoPhy .
Greeks (�hicago: He nry
Regnery, ' 196 2)_ zn the Tragic Age of the
1 3, janz, Nzetzsche 1: 515 &
. tzsc 526 -29.
14. NIe
'Ohe 1,�:303-4, and
he, Werke: kritische Gesamta
Age f!/the Greeks, trans. Ma
1 5. Nietzsche, Werke: kritisc �!
rianne C an (� hicago: Reg
he Gesamtausgab . e 111,2:2 nery,
PhiloSOPhy in the Tragic
1962), p_ 34.
Age of the Greeks, p. 25_ 97, and PhilosoPhy in the Tra
gic
rJ"4erke.' kn
1 6. Nie tzsche' w
,.
" t zsc
' h e Gesamtaus:g,'abe 111 , 2 . 2 95-
Tragzc Age oj the Greeks, p. 24. ' 96, and Phzlos ' oPhy in the
1 7. On Heraclitus cf. Nie
PhilosoPhy in the Tragic Aue
�
tzsche "WI r'ke·' kntzsche Ges
" amtausgabe 1I1, 2:3 1 6ff.,
'J ;he
18 . Th�' s, fiurt' h ermore, is t>' of' reeks, pp. 50ff and
the first formulation of' the . .
c�aIms and counterclaims pO SitI On that has led to
hIstory of metaphysics
about wheth er Ietz
'
�
Lon g after N I etzsc e disavo
.
sch e brought an end to the
book, Ecce Homo, wh ere' h . wed Wagner in his last
er
pre, decessor: Heraclitus. Nieeviewe d h IS Own writings' h e ad mIt. te d on ly on e
tzs
tra ns. Walter Kaufmann (Ne che' On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo'
19 . Cf. N Ietzs ' che, Werke: kritische Gesamtaus
w York : Random Hou se " 196 9) p. 2 7 3.
gabe 1I1 ,2:3 37ff., and Ph
Tragi� Age of the Greeks, ilosoph,y in the
pp. 79ff.
20. Cf. h IS letter to Gersd
orff BnfJ.Je
1873). ' ' .(; 3:3 67, and Briefwechsel 11,3 :13 9 (April 5,
2 1 . Perhaps they d'Iscusse
at the raIlw
. .
. d it together after leavin g B
ay station in Lichten £eI s th . . ayreuth, but before parting'
wrItmg, an d his first letter e next day' In any case, Ro
. hde delayed
o f th e Greeks." Cf. Briefw does not mentIon "Phil oso ph y m ' the Tra gic Ag e
echsel II , 4 .' 253 - 55 (Rohd
1 873). e to Nie tzsche, May 20,
22. On �he who le episode
C OSI ma Wagner, Tagebuc orster-N ietzsc he ' "WIagner und Nze' tzsche, pp. 1 52ff.,
, se e F
her 1:
wh at Wagner said abou t th 667 -69 : an dJ .
anz, Nze. tzsche 1:5 30- 32. Pre
cisely
e manuscrIpt wIll appare ntly never be kno wn.
,
 Notes

23. Nietzsche's letter is to be found in Briefe 3:374-75 (April 1 8, 1 873), and

Briefwechsel 11,3:144-45. By contrast, Wagner's first letter to N ietzsche, writ­
ten after receiving Nietzsche's apology, is calm and understanding; in fact he
seems to encourage Nietzsche to pursue his independence. On the other
hand Wagner does not mention "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the
Greeks" and does indicate that he can hardly wait for Nietzsche's essay on
Strauss. Cf. Briefwechsel 11,4:248 (Wagner to Nietzsche, April 30, 1 873).
24. Br'iefe 3:374-75, and Briefwechsel ll,3:144-45 (April I 8, 1 873).
25. Briefe 3:375, and Briefwechsel 11,3: 1 45.
26. Brieje 4:4-5, and Briefwechsel 11,3: 149-50 (May 5, 1 873).
27. Daniel Breazeale, "Introduction" to Philosoph,y and Truth: Selections from
Nietzsche 's Notebooks oj the ear�y 1870s (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities
Press, 1979). These selections are some of the raw materials, according to
Breazeale, of the projected Philosophenbuch. But he does not include "Philos­
ophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks." (In fact, Breazeale seems to acknowl­
edge this by not republishing "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks"
in his edition of these early fragments.) His construction of the place that
this manuscript had in Nietzsche's larger plan, based upon Nietzsche's let­
ters, is questionable. In fact, the letters he cites to indicate the existence of a
larger book seem to me to refer to the manuscript of "Philosophy in the
Tragic Age" itself, and to it alone. Cf. Breazeale, pp. xxii-xxvii. Breazeale
suggests we should regard all of Nietzsche's unpublished work from this pe­
riod, including "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks," as preliminary
drafts intended for inclusion in this Philosophenbuch. He suggests further that
these fragments contain the basic ideas that Nietzsche developed in his later
works, and that the fragments and notebooks are indispensable to under­
standing Nietzsche's philosophy. Breazeale is persuasive, but his argument
makes more sense for the shorter, fragmentary, and experimental works like
"On the Pathos of Truth" than for "Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the
Greeks."
28. David Friedrich Strauss, The Life ofJesus Critically Examined, trans. George
Eliot, ed. with Introduction by Peter C. Hodgson (Philadelphia: Fortress,
1 972). In addition to Hodgson's Introduction, see H()rton Harris, David
Friedrich Stmuss and His Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1 973) for an account of Strauss's intellectual odyssey.
29. See above, pp. 6·7-68, andJanz, Nietzsche 1: 1 46.
30. That Wagner had been offended by Strauss is mentioned by J. P. Stern in his
Introduction to Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (Cam­
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1 983), p. xii.
3 1 . Strauss, Der Alte und der neue Glaube: ein Bekenntnis (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1 872).
32. Nietzsche, Werke: kr#ische Gesamtausgabe 111,1 : 1 53-238, and Untimely Medita­
tions, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1 983),
pp. 1 -55. This was the first, but by no means ! the most interesting, of
Nietzsche's Untimely Meditations, published in August 1 873.
33. Cf. Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist, 4th ed.
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1 974), pp. 1 34-4 1 . It has also been
suggested that Nietzsche had a deeper motive: Nietzsche's later philosophy
contains many important strands that appear in Strauss's writings, most par-
 242
Notes

ticul arly the idea tha .

a pe �:
th e living needs of t reli ou s. m yths are n ecessary ficti on s
' produced from
ciZIng au tho rs with si Ie tzs.ch e freq.u entI Y worked ou
by cnti . . . . op .N
. mil ar' VIe ws ThI t his own ideas
Sio n of "D aVI' d Strau
. ss." Cf J " P S tern, ·I S rnay be the o ne p ositive d ' en
�eduations, pp . xiii- xiv.
34. N Ietzsche, Bri W.
' ntrodu ctio n to N iet
� .
zsche' s Un � zmely
efe 4.'49 and Brzefw ' echsel II, 3: 1 99-2
also Cosima
II, 4:4 14 (March r:/��:
" rz. e
ef an Friedrich Nietzsche 2:
00 (Fe bru a l I
7
49- 50, nd B �:
' 1 � ); See
35. J. p . S ter.n, ' 4 ) . rze.;
� wechsel
Intro duc tio n to N Iet
added. ' zsc he, Untime�y Meditatio .
36 . Wagner' s let .
ns' p. XIV . Ital I. cs
"
tem ber 2 1 , 1 8 73); N
ter In Fo rster.N Ie ' tzsch e W.agner. und
; ;
e� 7, 1873). See also
ietzs che's in Bri e/e � � ; � .1
Newm an, The L e ; � Bnefwechsel II, 3:1 6 1 (Sep te .
": . sche, pp . 1 62
zetz -63 (Se .
!
37 . r �e.;e 4: 1 7, an CJ.J zc ard Wagner' 4:403.
d Bri sel II 3 '1 6 67 (N .
�rzefwechsel II,4:329-efwech 30 (Rohd o I etz � �
� � Ietzsche to Ro hde, Oct
. 1 8, 1 873),'
38 . M ah nru f an
d'Ie D eutsch en " N sch e, Oc t. 23 1 873).
III, 2:385- 91 . ' ' zsche, Werke:' kritische
Iet
Gesamtausgabe
39 . It was I. ncid
entally in N ietzsche' s
:::: � ;:� �;:
ee life f
c
m any to learn the
u program s. :: :�t��:�! ::�
hi : i
(and oth ers) fi r� t
retu rn hom e to
40 . N Iet ' zsche, Werke: kritisch
e Gesamtaus:g be III
�nd On the Advantage a ' 1 :2 48; Untimely Medita
tI On by Pe ter Preu nd Disadvanta:g oif Hzsto
ss (In dia
: .
. ryfor L , tra
ife ns. with
tions p 63 '
In t�o duc.'
nap olis �
}
. ack ett 1 98 0) p
'
f:act the whole .
' p assage IS italicized in the ongIn '
. . " 10 . I ta I CS added ' in
4 1 . N Iet ' zs ch e, Werke'. kritzsc al. '
. he Gesamtausg
and Preu ss, e? , On abe III" 1 '2 46, U:ntz.
the A dvantage and D me�y Meditations, p. 62,
42 . Th Ier ' bach, Dze Bri isadva tage, p. 1 0
; nd Ni etzsche, Briefw
efe Cosima Wa ers
� :; . �
n zedrzch Nietzsche
, resp ectively
43. .g., NI. etzs ch
e, Briefe 4'7
�
echsel II, 4: 2- 1 (
. 7, and Bnefw
arch 20 an d Ap ril 20 an d 5 5- 5 8,
2:48- 49
1 874)
' echsel II, 3:23 1 - 32
1 874). (to Ger� do rff J' une
44. Schl echta and ' 1,
Th I' erb ach, Dz.e Briefe
and N Ie ' tzS C? e, Briefwechsel II, 4:4 des F reih er Car l Von Gersdorffs 2:87
rn
45 . Wag.ner, s bI 80 (Ma 29 , 1 8 74). - 88'
ographers E r.nest Y
need t0 h ave hIS. dis ' Newm an am o ng th
cip . em, testify to Wag
h I' m COu rt. Newm an, les pu t asi de the own reative wo rk ;" � ner' s
46 . N Iet . T he Life ojRichard in o rder to p ay
zsche, Briefwechse agner :292.
B riefe," pp . 1 86-90 l II, 3'2 . 28 - 30 . Also in
B ergfeld, "s Ie · ben un bek
" �ch e, Briefwechsel
47 . N Ietz ann te
48. ESpeCi ally in II, 3:2 28.
m �tes th at he m igh aphs wh.
the p aragr
t have to g
::: h e to� ch e� on his ow
n future and in ti-
Brzejwechsel II,3:2 up hIS U nIversity
28 _29 p osi tion . N Iet ' zsch e'
- zsche, Ibi
d., II,4: 65'4-56 (Ap n.I
49 . N let
5 0. N ietzsch e, Ibi 6, 1 874).
d. II 3'' 2 30 (May 20 ,
5 1 . Nietzsch e B 1 8 74).
' rie � 4'. 7 Gune 1, 1 874) ' 4'83 G
'.Ie 7
1 8 74), an d Briefw
echsel II, 3:23 1 -32 '
uly 4, 1 8 74), and 4:9
1 - 92 Guly 26
�� 74),
5 2 . le tzs ch e, B
and II,3:2 46-47 Guly
26 1 874) .
'
G u ne 1 , 1 874), an d II, 3:2
37- 38 Guly 4,'
riefe 4:83 and Br .efw
53 . Ni etzs ch e, Br ' � �chsel II,3 :23 7 -38.
iefe 4'9 . 1 , an d Brzefwechsel
II,3:246 Guly 26,
1 8 74).
 Notes

54. Nietzsche, Brieje 4:82, and Briefwechsel II, 3 :2 36 (June 1 4, 1 874) to Rohde.
55. Compare Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche, Nietzsche und Wagner. Cosima's ac­
count, which might be more accurate since it was contemporary, is vague.
Cosima Wagner, Die Tagebiicher� 1 869- 1 877, 1 :8 42 -44. Nietzsche' s Swiss biog­
rapher concludes that this episode marks the turning point in Nietzsche's
disillusion with Wagner.Janz, Nietzsche 1 :579 -8 1 and 584-86.
56. Stern, Introduction, Untime�y Meditations, pp. xxvii: "The tyrant who
suppresses all individuality other than his own and his followers'. This is
Wagner' s great danger: to refuse to accept Brahms, etc.; or the Jews."
57. Janz, Nietzsche 1:586.
58. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III, 1 :346, and Untimely Meditations, p.
1 36.
59. Werke: kr#ische Gesamtausgabe III, I :332-37, and Nietzsche, Untimely Medita­
tions, p. 1 27-30.
60. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III,1 :338, and Untimely Meditations,
pp. 1 30-3 1 .
61. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III, 1 :347, and Untimely Meditations, p.
1 37.
62. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe III, 1 :354, and Untimely Meditations, p.
1 42.
6 3 . Of course Bismarck was also recognized as a genius for accomplishing the
unification of Germany. But Nietzsche found the Iron Chancellor repug­
nant as a person, and would hardly have admitted that he could have been
the object of emulation or inspired others to creativity. Quite the contrary:
Nietzsche thought that the Reich tended to inhibit creativity.
64. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1: 1 73-96; translated in Daniel
Breazeale, Philosophy and Truth, pp. 1 27-46. In the same notebook Nietzsche
wrote numerous adenda to the earlier unpublished manuscripts on the
Greek topics.
65. Nietzsche, Wer-ke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, I : 1 9 1 -92; Breazeale, p. 143.
66. One editor of the Untimely Meditations notes that Nietzsche's diffi culties were
"obviously psycho-psychosomatic," but he does not specify their psychologi­
cal source. J. P. Stern, "Introduction," Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Medita­
tions, p. viii.
67. Janz, Nietzsche 1:61 4-20.
68. Nietzsche, Briefe 4:25 1 -52, and Briefwechsel II,5: 1 32 (Jan. 1 8, 1 876).
69. N i/etzsche, Briefe 4:252; and Briefwechsel II,5: 1 3 1 -33, especially p. 1 33 (Jan. 1 8,
1 876).
70. Janz, Nietzsche 1:626-27.
7 1 . Nietzsche, Brieje 4:270, and Briefwechsel II, 5 : 1 52 (April 1 5, 1 876).
72. This seems clear from Gersdorffs letter of April 4, 1 876, soon after he left
Nietzsche. Nietzsche, Briefwechsel II,6/i:305.
73. The whole episode is narrated inJanz, Nietzsche 1:628-32.
74. Janz, Nietzsche 1:631 -32:

Simply surprised by Mathilde's high spirit and judgment and bedazzled

by the relative freedom from inhibition in her youthful relationships
with people, a spontaneity that Nietzsche himself lacked completely.
 244
Notes

Here th ere s eem

ed to open th e Pro .
inhib iti ons in re spect of freem g him self fro m h
lating to p eop l e. l
n the co mp any 0 f is Own
1
p�rso n he could th IS
' n aturally
feel him self being . free
p hcated futu re . . e d mto an u nbur
. den ed and u n co
m·
75. N ie tzsche, B
; ':�� �
riife 4:27 2 an d B
hs l 11,5 : 1 54 (A ril
76. Jan z, Nietzsche i
1:6 32; N etzsch Z � I 5, 1 87 6).
echsel lI 5 .' 1 52 (Ap n'
1 1 5,
1 876). ' e;e 4 .2 70, and BneJw
!
7 7. n Sp Ite .
of m arriage and
fam ily M an. e B au
'

.
m teres te d in Nie mgartn er be cam
Jea 1 ous of, his de
tzsche . B ut N Ietz" sch e dId .
not appreCla
e ro mantica
' te that she m
ll'
Y
votio n igh t be
d1'd. h e rec iprocate
" to C OSI · ma Wagn er' nor
m antIC mterest.
0 en suggest
In sp ite of her fair!
� !:
h er ro-
e�en have be en a IO ns, Ni etzs che m
ware that s he lov ed ay n ot
78. NI etzsche b eca i r .
me acquai nted wit .
h M al
:�:
Wag ners. She as von Meys enb ug thr
",: chap ero ne to Nata ough the
H erzen), but an m li rzen (daughter of
tell ectual herself an Alexander
d th e auth or of
mgartn er, M aI WI'd a
trast to M ari e B au several books. In
see ms to have h ad Co n.
h er fn' en dsh ip wit an un derstan di ng
h Nietzsch e that s . of
mo therly frien d qu � red '
WIth N Ietzsch e's OW
who would n: s he was a
;:����
79. On N ietzsch hIm as she could.
e's rela tion shi p
an d 6 75-9 2. ese wom en, see
Janz, Nietzsche 1:645-
80. N ietzs che Br '
8 1 . Newman , The
�
' z ?fie 4"' 26 "R9 � 70, and Bri
eJwec hsel 11,5: .
1 52
52

zifie o) zchard Wagner I

8 2. N Iet ' zsch e, Unti V: 477_90 .
mely Meditations' p . xx ,
83. I bid. , p p. xxvi VI.'
-xxvii.
84. I bid. , P . xXVI. .
N Ie
' tzsche rep eat
an d th at Wagne edly n o tes th at Wag
r's art spoke a "th . ner' S tal ent was histr
e atrIcal l anguage. . io ni,c
h IS
' notebooks to g " But he IS un will ing in
ive Wagn er cre dit
" a born actor, for bei ng' a great act
but like G oethe, . or. He calls Wag
as It were a pa m . ner
han d s. " A' n d again . ' ter WIt h out a pai nter 's
"If Goeth e Is ' a '
m
ora to r, th en W agn
S ch ope nh au er,
� r is a mI' Spl ace d
Ispl
actor " Th IS
aced p ain ter, S chill er
' mIg . , .
a m isp laced
whom Nietzsch e ch ' . h t rem md one further of
tor " as havmg · ' arac ' tenzed m ' "S c h op
to overcom e his . enhauer as Educa-
N ietzsche adm ir d'I VI ded tale nts to
ed ' all of' th ese " m . create his p hilos
th elr . talents; for
him they were all
Is-talented'" I d'IV . � lduals for overco
ophy.
ming
was un con Sciously "sen tim �tal po
preparing a wa to � ets. Perhap s N ietzs
'
r ehablhtate W agn che
cusatio ns. But in Y er fro m his own ac -
thes e notes h e fO
W ag'ner' s " grea t un d onl y negative th m
histrio nic gift " S m . ' gs to say ab out
"to fin d its outlet " ce It was mIsp
: laced in Wagn er
ays ' to find that, [W
, erJ lacks' stature ,
. in the m ost dIrect w it failed
v � Ice, and the nec agn
essary m odesty.'"
� �
85. NIe tzsche,
Untimely Meditations
XV I. . Wo rthy of
� �i � :
N ietzsch e's later � n ote is the fact
w iting- eSpe i th at
ce mo-was not m
but by oste ntati
� agn er, b ut which
ous self- imp ortanc
som e h ave mi sta
:t a t e cou ld o n ly
arked by m odesty
have learned fro m
8 6. NIe tzsch e, IbI ken lor c m
' d., p . XXV III. " egal om ania.
'
87. Ibid., p. xxvi.
88. Ibid. , pp . X XVI' ' ...
l -xXVU I.
89. Ib id., p. xxvi.
"It is this [the ques
' s [Wagn erJ o
tio n of an audie nc
e] th at drIve
n,
 Notes 245

to criticize the public, the state, society. Between the artist and the publ ic he
posits the relationship of subj ect and object-quite naively."
90. Ibid., p. xxvii.
91. N ie tzsche, Werke: kr'itische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :3-4; Untimely Meditations, p.
1 97.
92. N ietzsche, Wer'ke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :4; Untime�y Meditations, p. 1 98.
93. Nietzsche, Wer'ke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :3-5; Untimely Meditations, pp.
1 97 -98. Recalling Wagner's address at the dedication of the ground for the
Festspielhaus in 1 872, Nietzsche quoted Wagner to the effect that there were
only a select few who could appreciate his grand project. In a passage remi­
niscent of an even earlier letter of N ietzsche to Wagner (May 22, 1 869), he
wrote,
All to whom this bel ief is accorded should feel proud of the fact,
whether they be few or many-for that is not accorded to everyone,
neither to the whole of our age nor even to the Germ an peopl e as it
stands at present, he told u s so himself in his dedicatory address of 22
May 1 872 . . . . "When I sought those who woul d sympathize with my
p lans," he said then, "I had only you, the friends of my particular art,
my most person al work and creation, to turn to: it was only fro m you
that I could expect assistance."
94. N ietzsche in his notebooks rewrote his criticism to assert that Wagner was a
dilettante as a youth: "Wagner's youth was the youth ofa many sided dilettante
. . . " He even rewrote the note about Wagner's music, poetry, plot, and dra­
maturgy not being worth much; in the revised version, "his early music is not
worth much . . . " The obvious implication is that Wagner was no longer a
dilettante and that his music, poetry, and drama were no longer superficial.
N ietzsche, Untime�y Meditations, pp. xxvi-xxvii. Italics added.
J. P. Stern has also noted this in the introduction to Untimely Meditations,
p. xxix. "Almost all the failings N ietzsche had ascribed to [Wagner] in the
preliminary notes now figure as temptations resolutely overcome, trials
strenuously undergone and since won."
95. N ietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :7; Untimely Meditations, p. 200. " ,/1
I ,
96. "Only a force wholly pure and free could direct this will on the pathway to
the good and benevolent." Nietzsche, now transforming Wagner's theatrical
character into a vIrtue, notes that it is only appropriate that the l ife of a great
dramatist should be dramatic. N ietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe
IV, I :7-10; Untimely Meditations, pp. 200-2. Nietzsche's description of
Wagner's "will" reaching up to the light is oddly reminiscent of Nietzsche's
description of his own creative impul se in "The Struggle between Science
and Wisdom" (Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 : 1 9 1 -92, and
Breazeale, Philosophy and Tmth, p. 1 43).
97. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :9- 1 1 ; Untime�y Meditations, pp.
202-3.
98. N ietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :2 1 -23; Untimely Meditations, pp.
2 1 0-1 1 , and somewhat less clearly on pp. 244-54.
99. Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, p. 28 1 .
1 00. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, l : 1 1 ; Untimely Meditations, p . 203.
246 Notes

1 0 1 . Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :46-50; Untimely Meditations, pp .

228-3 1 .
1 02. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :50-5 1 ; Untimely Meditations, p.
232.
1 03. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :52; Untimely Meditations, p. 233.
1 04. Some of his remarks about the audience in Bayreuth-which had of course
not yet assembled-are fraught with double entendre, as "in Bayreuth the
spectator too is worth seeing." Nietzsche, Werke, kritische Gesamtausgabe
IV, 1 :4-5; Untime�y Meditations, p. 1 98.
1 05. Rather, he asserts that "To us," the putative public, "Bayreuth signifies th�
morning consecration on the day of battle."
1 06. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :25; Untimely Meditations, p. 2 1 3.
1 07. Nietzsche, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe IV, 1 :78-82; Untimely Meditations, pp.
251 -54.
1 08. Brie.fwechsel II:5: 1 75 (to Ernst Schmeitzner, Nietzsche's publisher, July 1 4,
1 876). Nietzsche's advance letter to Schmeitzner in Leipzig requested that
two copies be sent to Bayreuth, but that the package wait until he had for­
warded letters of dedication for inclusion in it. Only one letter has survived,
if indeed there were two-the one to Cosima. Some authors suggest that the
one to Wagner was later destroyed in Bayreuth; it is also possible that in his
vacillation Nietzsche never actually wrote a final version to send to Wagner.
1 09. Ibid., II:5: 1 73-74 (to Cosima Wagner, earlyJuly, 1 876).
1 l 0. Ibid., II:6/1 :362-63.
1 1 1 . Ibid., II:611 :357.
1 1 2 . Of course, N ietzsche might have said something more in his letter to Wagner
himself, if indeed he wrote a separate letter to Wagner.
1 1 3 . Newman, The Life ofRichard Wagner IV:458.
1 1 4. Newman, IV:438-90.
1 1 5. Wagner was perhaps unique among composers of opera in the intensity of
his concern for the details of production. From the design of the sets and the
gestures of each actor to the phrasing of the singers and the tempi of the
orchestra, Wagner knew exactly what he wanted. "Wagner," writes Newman,
was a far better conductor than any of his conductors, a far better actor
than any of his actors, a far better singer than any of his singers in every­
thing but tone. Each of his characters, each of his situations, had been
created by the simultaneous functioning within him of a composer's
imagination, a dramatist's, a conductor's, a scenic designer's, a singer's, a
mime's. IV:487.
As a consequence, no one knew as well as Wagner himself how to carry out a
part. And he felt compelled to coach all of the participants in every excruci­
ating detail.
1 1 6 . In drafts of his letters announcing "Richard Wagner in Bayreuth" he admit­
ted he had no idea how Wagner would react. But everything else in those
drafts indicates that he feared the worst. In one he intimated that the
Wagners should not read it at all. In another he " shuddered to think what
[he] had dared;" he just wanted to close his eyes and forget; and he hoped
that Wagner would accept the essay "without recoiling." In yet another he
 2 47
No tes

n ot
e not about you, and
agner , wo u ld "rea d it as though it wer
ho ped that W
' ,/:i"
gner mdlcate, h 0":-
'. ' 1 7 1 -73.
'..vechsel II ·5· . '
written by me." BrzeJ . N le ' s draft-le tters to Wa
ts m tzs che ncI-
statemen more blast of denu
1 1 7 . Several other .
hIm th an f'ear of one
t the publicatIo.n 0 f
was a t s tak e for . "R IC
' h ard
ever, that more
W agne r. N iet zsche was afral' d tha a l tog
' e th er.
atio n from hIp
d of their relations
ner in B ayre u th" wou ld mean th e en
Wag blished a
th at, when I h ave pu
has the co nse que nce
I'n my person a1. r e
"My writing aI ways is call ed i nto qu es-
' lationships
that espe cIa11y toda
new piece, so meth mg '
y , I can no t sa y any more
. Ho w mu ch I f eel
Ho n. . . .
clearly." Briejwechsel
II:5: 1 73.

� ��� �����: ������ ���79 (to Eliszscabe th Nie tzsche, 25 Jul

und Wagner, p. 1 2 \,
y, 1 87 6).

r_Nietzsche, Niet he energetic critic of

Elisa-
a sa1 -
1 20 . Forste H e was an ear y and
N ew ma 's view ' ns was
1 2 1 . This is Ernest � . Elis abeth's fals ific atio
sch e'S vera cIty . H �s as �au It u on esta bli shi ng the
b eth N ietz � g her but even in
tary cor re
.
ctIv e, no t only m dlscred'ItIn ever, he was el' th er
u How . . . m 0f
s from B ayreu th ·
Pro per datm. g 0f . .
.
1 rea dy well -devel
N '
Ie t zs ch e' s le tter
. oped cn tICIS
miZ' ing N IetzSCh e' s. a wman, IV.' 503 -
u naware or Just m mi
an d the vul gan ty 0
IS
f h' fol low ers Ne
Wagne r's "ac tor" n atu re
m an on this p o n t. i
Janz, Nietzsche
Y
esp
.
eCla II 506 -7 •Janz fol lows New
39,
1:7 1 5.
: 1 79 (J u 28 1 876).
1 22. Briejwechsel II:5
1 23. Ibid., II:5 : 1 8 1 (Au
7 7
gust , 1 8 6' to Eli sab
eth Nietzsche).

1 24. Ibi d., II:5 : 1 8 1 . sabeth Nietzsch e).

gust 6 , 1 876 ' to Eli
1 25. Ibi d., II:5 :1 82 (Au
5-2 7.
1 26. Ne wm an , IV :52

ted exte nSIve1 Y b Y Jan ,

Nie tzsche 1:1 7-2 0 . 0-2 4.
1 27. Cf. Janz, . z in h is Nietzsche 1:72
arti cles are ex cerp
1 2 8. The
man, IV: 531 .
1 29. Quo ted in New ,
1 30. Qu oted i n New man, IV:53 3.
3 ' 32 1 ' trans. in On
the Genealogy oj
Gesam ta usgabe VI
ke: krit ische
1 3 1 . N ie tzsche, Wer (N ' Y
ew ork: Random H
ou se, 1 9 67),
Morals / Ecce Homo, ed.
Walter K aufm ann

p. 2 84.
Wal ter Kaufm ann, , . paSSI. Oned
1 32 . In the words of
�
bsc
.
hen , a lon ely gen ius, W agner s Im
at Tn ther peo­
As lon g as he lived d th e i nferiority of o
of the Germ ans an
faith in the su periority S, could perh aps be de cen tly ig-
.
French an d the J eW m pIre
PIe, esp eci ally th e te rms WI' th the new G erm an E
agn ' er cam e to
nored; b ut wh en W a clear stan d
� ���
.
l tu ral cent�r m B y e th the time for
an d set up a grea t cu . i self fro m wh at Bayre uth
s at h an d - and N ie tzsche dIS SOCI a e
wa
. h o.r
J Traged'llJ
symbolized.
w:agner, in N ie tzsc
he, The Bzrt
to T he Case oj
Kaufm ann, P refa ce k: Random H ouse,
Kaufmann (N ew Yor
and the Case oj Wagner, ed. Walter
1 9 67) , p. 1 49 . VI 3 32 2', trans. in On
the Genealogy oj
N ie tzsche, Wer ke: kritische Gesamtausgabe " '
Morals / Ecce Homo, p. 28 6 .
1 33.
248 Notes

1 34. Nietzsche, Nietzsche contra Wagner- in Wer'ke: kritische Gesamtausgabe VI,3:4

29;
trans. Walter Kaufman n, in The Portable Nietzsche (New York: Viking,
1 954),
pp. 675-76.
1 35. Nietzsch e, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe VI,3:429 -30; The Portable
Nietzsche, po
676.
1 36. Nietzsch e, Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe VI,3:322 ; On the Genealogy
of Morals /
Ecce Homo, p. 286.
1 37. Nietzsch e, The Case of Wagner, in Werke: kritische Gesamtausgabe
VI,3:3; trans. in
The Birth of Traged,y and the Case of Wagner, p. 1 55.
1 38. Nietzsche contra Wagner, in Werke: kr-itische Gesamtausgabe VI,3:430;
trans. in . The
Portable Nietzsche, p. 676.

NINE Redefining Genius

1 . Ernest Kretschmer, Geniale Menschen (Berlin: Springer, 1 929);
and Robert
Minde� , "Das B ild des Pfarrhauses in der deutsche n Literature von
. Jean.
Pa� l bIS Gottfned Benn," Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur
in
Maznz, Abhandlungen der Klasse Literatur, 4 ( 1 959):53- 78.
2 . The theory of gen ius w�s of co� rse no more gender neutral than the theory
.
of popular sovereIgnty m the nmeteen th century, and it excluded
women by
definitio n.
3. Tho �e who �heorized about genius apparen tly overlook ed the possibilit
y
that mnovatIo n may be a result of cooperat ion.
4. The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufman n, pp. 2 1 6- 1 7.
5. Ecce Homo, p. 220. Quotation from the last chapter of Thus spake Zarathustra,
Part I.
6. This view is consisten t with the interpretation of Nietzsch e put forward
by
Alexander Nehemas in his Nietzsche: Life as Literature (Cambridge,
MA: Har.
vard University Press, 1 985).
7. Ecce Homo, trans. Walter Kaufma nn, pp. 295-309 .
8. Ibid., pp. 300- 1 .
9. Ibid., p . 298.
1 0. Ecce Homo, p. 2 1 9.
 Suggestions for Further
Reading

N in German in the Kritische Gesamtausgabe, edited by Giorgio

ietzsche's works and correspondence are most fully presented

Colli and Mazzino Montinari. The Briefwechsel (Berlin: de Gruyter,

1 975-84) is complete in 1 6 volumes, but the Werke (Berlin: de Gruy­
ter, 1 967-), unfortunately, are complete only from Vol. 2 onward.
For the works of Nietzsche's youth (before 1 867), one must there­
fore consult the older, also incomplete edition, the Historisch­
kritische Gesamtausgabe, edited by Hans Joachim Mette, Karl
Schlechta, and Carl Koch, 5 vols. (Munich: Beck, 1 933-40). (In the
notes to this book, Briefwechsel and Werke refer, respectively, to the
letters and works of the newer Kritische Gesamtausgabe; the works of
the older edition are cited as Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe: Werke
for the works, and the Briefe of that edition are cited alongside the
Briefwechsel for readers who do not have access to the newer edi­
tion.) A handier German edition is the Werke in drei Biinde, edited by
Karl Schlechta (Munich: Carl Hanser, 1 954-56).
In English, most of Nietzsche's works are readily available in
the fine translations of Walter Kaufmann published between 1 954
and 1 974, often containing several different works, for example,
The Portable Nietzsche (New York: Viking, 1 954) and The Birth of Trag­
edy and the Case of Wagner (New York: Random House, 1 967). New
and valuable translations of some of the less popular works that
Kaufmann did not translate began to appea:t; in the 1 980s. Espe­
cially relevant to this book are the Untimely Meditations, edited by J.
P. S tern and translated by R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cam­
bridge University Press, 1 983).
Other translations of manuscript papers and lectures from
Nietzsche's early career are available in Philosophy and Truth: Selec­
tionsfrom Nietzsche's Notebooks of the early 1870s, edited and translated
250 Suggestionsfor Further Reading

�
by Daniel Breazeale (Atlantic Highlands, N]: Humanities Pres
1 979), and Friedrich Nietzsche on Rhetoric and Language, edited an
translated by Sander L. Gilman, Carole Blair, and David J. Parent
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1 989).
. There
glIs�,
is also an excellent edition of Nietzsche's letters in En­
Selected Letters of Friedri�h Nietzsch�, edited and translated by
.
Chnstopher MIddleton (ChIcago: UnIversity of Chicago Press,
1 969).
The fullest biography is really a reference work in three vol­
umes, by Curt Paul ]anz, Friedrich Nietzsche: Biographie (Munich:
Han�er, 1 978- ?9). Handy biographies in English are by R. J .
Hol�u�gdale, Nzetzsche, the Man and His Philosophy (Baton Rouge:
L�uIsiana St�t� Un�versity Press, 1 965), and Ronald Hayman,
Nzet-:sche: A Cntzcal Life (New York: Oxford University Press, 1 980).
.
An Inter�stIn
. ? complement to Nietzsche's life and letters is Conver­
satzons wzth Nzet-:sche, a Life in the Words of His Contemporaries, edited
by Sander L. GIlman and translated by David]. Parent (New York­.
Oxford University Press, 1 987).
Long t�e �ost impor�ant book on Nietzsche in English, Walter
K�ufmann s Nzetzsche: Phzlosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist (Princeton:
�nncet�n University P:ess, 1 9 �0) has been revised in many edi­
tIons. It IS a somewh �t bIogr�phic study of Nietzsche's thought. But
the best rece� t book I� EnglI �h on Nietzsche's thought is Alexander
�ehamas, Nzetzsche: Life as Lzterature (Cambridge: Harvard Univer­
SIty Pre�s, 1 985) : Also valuable as a sampling of French writing
abou t � Ietzsche IS The New Nietzsche: Contemporary Styles ofInterpreta­
. edited by David B. Allison (New York: Delta [Dell], 1 977) .
tlOn,
•

The top ic of genius is only now becoming subject to historical

stu�y, ha:Ing long been regarded primarily as a matter of research
o � IntellIgence. A volume edited by Penelope Murray, Genius: The
�zstory. ofan Idea (O �fo:d: Basil Blackwell, 1 989), is misleadingly en­
tItled, Inasmuch as It gIves not a history but a few interesting essays
on fragments �f the history of genius. M. H. Abrams traces the rise
of the �omantic theory of creativity, including the idea of genius, in
The Mzrror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1 953). Robert Currie discusses
the portrayal of genius in nineteenth-century literature in Genius'. .
C • •
An Ideology in Literature (N ew York: Schocken ' 1 974) . A J.eminiS t cn-
.
tique of the romantic t?eory of genius is argued by Christine
Battersby, Gender and Genzus: Towards a Feminist Aesthetics (Blooming-
 251
Suggestionsfor Further Reading

ton : Indiana Un iversity Press, 1 989 ).Dut One chapter of Roy Por ter' s
Social His tory of Madness (New York:
ton, 1 989 ) is dedicated to
"M adness and Genius. " es, inc lud ing The Creative
The re are several val uab le antholerogi Gh isel in (Berkeley: U niver­
Process, a Symposium, edited by Brewst
sity of Cal ifornia Pre ss, 1 952 ). Artistic and scie ntific creativity are
nce and Art, edi ted by
the focus of The Concept of Creativity ine Scie Hague: Martinus Nij hoff,
Den is Du tton and Michael Krausz (Th
1 98 1 ), and Scientific Genius and
Creativity, readings fro m Scientific
American, edited by Owen Gin ger
ich (New York: W. H. Fre em an,
1 987 ).
Interesting material on the mytho logical background to the
modern enthusiasm for geniuses ma(Ne y be found in Joseph Cam p­
bel l, The Hero with a Thousand FacesHistory w Yor k: Bol lingen, 1 949) .
And Sidney Hook, in The Hero i no in moder (New York: John Day ,
her n history.
1 943 ), discuss es the role of the
A sophisticated psychoanalytic studyrgin of the personal side of
g Goddess: The Creative
creativity is Albert Rothenberg, ThedsEme (Chicago: University of Chi­
Process in Art, Science, and Other Fiel
cago Press, 1 979 ). The later portion(Ne s of Leo n Braudy's boo k, The
Frenzy of Renown: Fame and Its His tory
w York: Oxford University
much about the so-
Pre ss, 1 986 ), dealing with modern fam e, reveal I"
I I

I'
cial setting and motivation of genius.

I
\I
 Index
Abiturium, 58, 60, 6 1
Academic freedom, 63, 1 53
Actor, the, 186-1 87
Aeschylus, 1 38, 143
Aesthetics, 1 35
Altklug ("old for his years"), 52
Anaxagoras, 1 62, 1 63, 1 64
Anti-Semitism, 202
Apollonian principle, 1 28, 1 30-132
ApollonianlDionysian principles, 1 1 3,
1 35
Aristocracy, 2
of intellect, 2
"natural," 1 55, 239
of talent, 1 55
Aristotle, 1 38, 2 1 3, 228
Arouet, Franc;ois. See Voltaire.
Artist, the, 4-8, 86, 88, 1 89
relationship with public of, 1 88
Aus meinem Leben (Out of My Life or
Dichtung und Wahrheit )
(Goethe), 4
Aus meinem Leben (From My Life, Out of
My Life) (NietzscI1e), 1 1 , 44
Autobi9graphy, 3-5
Avant-garde, the, 1 55
Bachofen, j. j , 1 1 3- 1 14, 230
.
Baumgartner, Marie, 1 86, 244
Beethoven (Wagner), 1 28, 1 42, 233
Being (essence) vs. becoming (exis -
tence), 1 63, 1 64
Berlioz, Hector, 7, 2 1 0
Bernays, jakob, 90, 99, 228
Berndorf, Otto, 54
Biedermann, Karl, 95
Bildung (education, development), 4,
40, 1 62, 193
Bildungsanstalten (multiplication of
schools), 1 54
Bildungsburgertum (educated middle
class), 20, 33, 37, 40
values of, 49
Biography, 3, 9, 10, 2 1 2
Birth of Traged,y out of the Spirit of Music,
The (Nietzsche), 1 2- 1 4, 76, 9 1 ,
1 02, 104, 1 06, 107, 1 09, 1 1 3, 1 1 4,
1 1 8, 1 25, 1 26, 1 33, 1 37, 1 38, 142,
1 43, 1 5 1 , 1 52, 1 56, 1 58, 171, 2 1 3,
228, 233-235, 236
autobiographical dimension of,
1 35, 1 36
beginnings of, 1 27
first part of, 1 30, 1 32, 1 34, 1 39
hostility toward, 143- 1 47
last part of, 1 30, 1 34, 1 36
Ritschl on, 1 43-�45
textual history of, 129
"Birth of the Tragic Idea, The" (lec­
ture) (Nietzsche), 129
"Bohemia," Bohemianism, Bohe-
mians, 7, 9 1 , 1 55
Boswell, james, 3
Brahms, johannes, 1 75- 1 76
Breast feeding, 24
Breeding (Zucht ), 1 53
Brockhaus, Hermann, 97
Brockhaus, Otilie, 95, 97
Buddensieg, Professor Robert, 51, 54
Burckhardt, jacob, 14- 1 5, 109, 1 1 3,
1 1 4- 1 1 5, 1 50, 1 70, 231
lectures of, 1 1 2
Burgertum (upper middle class), 1 8
Burschenschaft, 64, 65-66, 69, 225
 254 Index

Case of Wagner� The (Nietzsche), 2 1 4 Education, 5, 76, 1 53-1 55, 1 76, 238
Catharsis, 228
goal of, 1 50
Chesterfield, Lord, 3
humanistic, 47, 48, 60, 6 1 , 1 7 1
Chorus, the, meaning of, 1 37- 1 39,
romantic view of, 4
235
Educational system
Cicerone (Burckhardt), 1 1 4 German, 1 48, 1 49, 222
Classical ideals, 47-49
U.S., 238-239
Classics, study of, 76
"Ego ideals," lO, 84
Confessions (Rousseau), 4 Egotism, absolute, 1 5
Conservatism, 3 1
�leatic philosophers, 1 63, 1 64
Creativity, 6, l O, 1 05, l O6, 1 20, 1 27, Emile (Rousseau), 4
1 33, 1 4 1 , 1 70 , 1 7 1 , 1 74, 1 80, 209, Enlightenment, the, 1, 5, 202
2 1 2, 2 1 4 Enthusiasm (Begeistemng), 90
Crime an War, 43
Epilepsy, 26, 221
Cr'itique of Pure Reason, The (Kant), 1 79
Erikson, Erik, 24
Cultural critic ism, 1 30
Erzieher, role of, 40, 4 1 , 79
Cultural models, 84 Erziehung (education), 56
Culture, theory of, 1 55 Essays on Music (Jahn), 96
Culture of the Renaissance in Italy "Ethica l pessim ist," 79, 1 37
(Burckhardt), 1 1 4 "Euph orion " (Nietz sche), 59
Ex nihilo creation, 6, 8, 2 1 3, 2 1 7
D'Agoult, Marie, 1 2 1
Darwin, Charles, 83, 2 1 0
David Strauss, the Confessor and the Au- Family romance, 1 22, 1 23
thor (Nietzsche), 1 66- 1 67 Father figures (surrogates), 1 1 , 35-38
,
Deca denc e, 1 69, 1 70 94, 1 1 5, 1 76, 208, 2 1 3 . See also
Dem ocracy, 1 49, 1 51 , 1 55, 238 Ment ors.
Destiny of Opera, The (Wagner), 1 42 Faust, 7
Deus sen, Marie, 65 Festschrift, 90, 92
Deus sen, Paul , 5 1 , 53, 57-5 8, 63,
64, Flotter Student, 66, 69
65, 66-67 , 7 1 , 78, 92, 93-94 1 09 , Franck'sche Stiftung, 38
l Fran conia , 64, 65-6 6, 69, 225
22� 226
Dictionary of the English Language (John - Franc o-Pru ssian War, 106, 1 1 1 , 1 29
son), 3 Fraternity, 5 1 , 64, 65, 67, 69, 70, 72,
Diderot, Denis, 2 225
Dindorf, Wilhelm, 74-75 Frauenstadt, Julius, 93
Diogenes Laertius, 75, 226 Freud, Sigmund, 9, 235
Dion ysian prin ciple , 1 28, 1 30 - 1 Frien dship , 33, 34, 39, 41, 50, 53-5
32, 4,
1 37, 1 39 78-7 9, 1 09- 1 1 0, 1 1 3, 222
"Dio nysia n Weltanschauung, The" Fiirstenschulen (ducal schoo ls), 47
(lecture) (Niet zsche ), 1 28, 1 29
Disc iplin e, 33, 44, 48 ' . 55 , 58, 63 ,
64, Games, 39, 223
1 53
Gay Science, The (Nietzsche), 2 1 4
Niet zsche 's rebe llion against, 56,
57 Gehirnerschiitterung, 222
Doppelganger (dou ble), 59-6 0
Gehirnerweichung ("softening of the
Diih rung , Eugen, 93
brain"), 26, 222
Geist (mind, spirit), 40, 42
Ecce Homo (Nietzsche), 70, 200, 20 1 , Gemiithlichkeit, 37
2 1 5-2 1 7, 240, 244 Gemiithskrank(heit), 26, 222
 Index
Genius, 3-5, 1 0, 88, 94, 1 04, 1 52, 1 54,
1 79
characteristics (traits) of; 1 25, 2 1 2
i n conflict with himself, 1 93
cult of, 1 , 1 87, 2 1 6
culture of, 208, 209
definition of, 5, 1 5, 1 78
as (demi)god, 1 53, 1 80
emotional hostility toward, 9
God and, 5-6, 8
idea (ideology) of; 1 , 7, 1 0
a s inborn ability, 1 8
a s individual, 1 50- 1 5 1
and insanity (madness), 6 , 26, 88,
1 44, 228
as mentor (moral exemplar), 1 81
and middle classes, 7-9
modern, 1 5
myth of unrecognized, 86, 1 9 1 , 2 1 2
mythical life of, 2 1 2
mythology of; 1 29
naive theory of, 1 43, 1 48, 1 56, 1 80
in new version, 1 7 1
nineteenth-century, 2 10
rights of the, 1 48
role of, 1 5, 82, 84, l O5, 1 1 5, 1 56,
209, 2 1 0, 2 1 1 , 2 1 3, 2 1 4
romantic idea of, 1 88
as savior, 1 80
Schopenhauer's theory of, 86-89
sentimental, 1 43, 1 80
vs. talent, 5
tests of, 1 79
theory of, 2, 5, 1 2, 1 6,) 8, 1 05, 1 1 7,
1 5� 1 5� 1 7� 2 1 2�2 1 � 248
as transcending its model, 98
Genius worship, 10
Genius (master)-disciple relationship,
1 73, 1 74, 1 76, 1 79
Gerlach, Professor F. D ., 1 07, 1 08
German nationalism, 1 06
German unification (unity, idea of),
48, 66
Germania, the (fraternity), 5 1 , 72
Gesamtkunstwerk (total work of art), 96,
1 28
Gesamtschule, 222
God, and genius, 5-6, 8, 1 87, 2 1 3
255
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, 1 , 4, 6, 7,
1 1 , 44, 70, 1 04, 1 37, 1 38, 1 70,
1 78, 208, 2 1 7
Grand En�yclopedia, The, 2, 5
Greek Cultural History (Burckhardt),
1 14
"Greek Music-Drama" (lecture) (Nietz-
sche), 1 27, 1 29
Greeks, ancient, 1 70, 1 8 1
Guilt, 29
Gymnasial system, 47
Gymnasium, 44, 48, 60, 1 48, 1 50- 1 5 1 ,
1 53, 1 7 1 , 1 77, 238-239
as too democratic, 1 49
Hahn, Johanna (Friedrich's maternal
,
grandmother), 2 1
Hegel, Georg, 2 1 1
'I !,
'
I !
Hegelian idea, Hegelianism, 1 70, 226
Heraclitus, 80, 1 62, 1 63, 1 64, 1 82, 240 ,I
Heroes, 1 0
excessive worship of; 9
need for, 8
romantic, 1 , 4, 5
Herzog, Heinrich, 47
Herzog, Moritz, 47
J I
H istoricism, 1 46, 1 68, 1 7 1 , 237
H istory, 1 68, 1 69
as genealogy of geniuses, 1 8 1
History oj Materialism and Critique of Its
Present Significance, The (Geschichte
des Mater'ialismus und Kritik seiner
Bedeutung in der ' Gegenwart, Die)
(Lange), 79, 82-84, 228
Holderlin, Friedrich, 6, 57, 76, 208,
217
"Homer and Classical Philology" (lec­
ture) (Nietzsche), 1 04
Homer's authorship, question of,
1 04-105
Homosexuality, 78
Hugo, Victor, 2 l O, 2 1 1
Human, All Too Human (Nietzsche),
202, 206, 207
"Humanists," 68
Idealism, German, 8 1
Indian thought, 7 9 , 8 1
 256 Index

Individuality, 1 49, 1 50- 1 5 1 , 1 53, 1 57, Loyalty (Tr'eue), 1 92

1 76, 1 77 Ludwig II of Bavaria, 1 1 9, 1 20
Individuation, 1 3 1 , 1 44
Insanity. See Genius, and insanity Mahly, j. A., 1 07- 1 08
(madness) Marx, Karl, 7, 1 5, 2 1 0, 2 1 1
Intellect, surfeit (excess) of, 87, 88 Masses, the, 1 52 - 1 55
In tellectuals Materialism, 82, 83, 1 49, 1 69
alienation from middle class of, 6 Meaninglessness, of individual life, 75
independence of, 1 -3 Mendes-Gautier, Judith, 1 1 9, 1 22
new roles of, 1 Mein Leben (My Life) (Wagner), 1 24,
Intelligentsia, German, 1 8, 220 1 40, 1 57
Meistersinger� The (opera) (Wagner),
Jahn, Otto, 64, 68-69, 96, 229 96-98 , 1 24, 1 47, 1 94
Johnson, Samuel, 3, 4 Mend elssoh n, Felix, 1 1 , 35, 36
Journalism, 1 51 - 1 52 Mental illnes s, 26, 222
Julie, or the new Heloise (Rousseau), 4 Mentors, 1 77, 208-2 1 1 , 2 1 3, 2 1 4, 2 1 6,
217
Kant, Imma nuel, 79, 80-83 , 93, 1 79 Metaphysics, 93, 1 64, 2 1 0
Kierkegaard, Soren, 228 Meyer, Guido, 57-58
King Eichhorn game, 39-40 Michelangelo, 2 1 0
Know ledge , 8 1 , 1 3 1 , 1 33, 1 39, 1 44, Middle classes, 2-4, 10, 149, 1 50, 1 5 1 ,
1 70, 1 77 1 55, 238
excess of, 1 69 and genius, 7, 8
and view of intellectuals, 6
Militarism, I l l , 1 1 2
historical, 1 68- 1 7 1
Korps, 225
Kriegslisten, 43 Mimicry, 88
Krug, Gustav, 1 1 , 32-35, 37, 39, 40, 42, Model-of-life games, 39
43, 49-50, 5 1 , 52, 60, 64
Modernism, 1 33
Mozart, 7
relationship with Nietzsche, 41
Krug (senior), 1 1 , 36 Murr, Wilhelm, 200
Mushacke, Hermann, 7 1
Muster' (model), 42
Mutterrecht, Das (Bachofen), 1 1 3
Lange, Friedrich Albert, 79, 82-84 ,
228
Latency, 27 Napoleon, 8, 1 55
Leadership, 42 Neologisms, 1 52
intellectual, 52, 53, 72, 73
Nietzsche, Augusta (Friedrich's aunt),
Lenbach, Franz, 1 40
22, 24
Lieblingskinder, 6 1 Nietzsche, Elisabeth (Friedrich's sis­
Life ofJesus, The (Strauss), 1 65, 1 66
ter), 2 1 , 23, 3 1 , 38, 39, 65, 69, 1 0 1 ,
Life of Richard Wagner, The (Nietzsche),
1 82, 1 98, 2 2 1 , 247
23 1
birth of, 25
Life of SamuelJohnson, The (Bosw ell), 3
relationship with Friedrich, 40-41
Liszt, Franz, 1 2 1
Nietzsche, Franziska (nee Oehler)
Literary history, 9 1 , 92
(Friedrich's mother), 10, 1 7, 20,
Lohengrin (opera) (Wagner), 1 94 38, 67, 1 0 1
Lombroso, Cesare, 26 ancestors of, 2 1
Loving one's fate (amor/ati), 1 4, 70, devotion to children of, 24, 32
209 position of, at Naumburg, 32
 Index
relationship with N ietzsche family,
22-23
and role of mother, 23-24
Nietzsche, Friedrich August Ludwig
(Friedrich's grandfather), 1 9
Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm
and ambition, 37, 207
in army, 89, 9 1
attack o n Gymnasium by, 1 48- 1 5 1 ,
1 53
attack on D. F. Strauss by, 1 65-1 67
attack on Western thinking by, 1 4
austere life of, 1 4
autobiography of, 24-26, 36, 43-45,
22 1 , 225
to Bayreuth, 1 59, 1 6 1 , 1 67, 1 74- 1 76,
1 97-200
birth of, 1 7
career, unsureness about, 59-62
character of, 33-34, 38, 39, 4 1 , 42,
44, 49, 55, 74
childhood of, 24-25, 30, 2 2 1
and Christianity, 59, 6 7 , 7 1 , 1 66,
202-203
citizenship of, 1 00, 1 1 1 , 206
and Cosima von Billow, 1 22 - 1 23
delinquency of, 58, 64
and dream about father's death, 27-
28, 55
early life of, 1 0 - 1 1
and epilepsy, 222
family of, 10, 1 7- 1 8, 23, 29 /
fantasy life of, 59-60, 9 1
father figures (surrog:ates), attract­
ion to, 1 1 , 1 3, 35, 36-39, 56, 85,
94, 1 1�, 1 64, 208, 2 1 3, 2 1 4
father's death and, 1 0, 25-26, 30,
55, 207
in fraternity, 64-66, 67, 69, 225
and friendship, 33-34, 5 1 , 53-54,
78, 1 09- 1 1 0, 1 1 3
and games, 39-40, 42
and genius, 1 0, 1 2, 1 3, 1 5- 1 6, 1 05-
1 06, 1 1 6, 1 23, 1 78
as genius, 1 33- 1 34, 1 36, 1 42 , 1 43,
1 45, 1 58, 1 7 1 , 209
in Germania, 5 1 -52
and grandfather Oehler, 37-38
257
health of, 54-55, 1 1 1 , 1 1 2, 1 29, 1 4 1 ,
1 82 - 1 84, 1 97, 1 98, 206, 2 1 0
and historicism critique, 1 68- 1 72
and independence, struggle for,
1 60, 1 6 1 , 1 64, 1 67-1 68, 1 71 - 1 74,
1 82
inhibitions of, 39, 4 1
interest i n music and literature of,
1 1 , 35-37, 39, 66
on Lange, 82-84
and leave of absence from teaching,
205-206
lectures of, 1 24- 1 25, 1 27- 1 28,
I�
1 48- 1 52
and marriage, 1 84-1 85
on the masses, 1 52 - 1 55
as medic in Franco-Prussian War,
1 1 1- 1 12
and megalomania, 244
and model, search for, 74-75, 77
native (hereditary) intelligence of,
1 8, 24, 29, 37, 207
at Naumburg, 3 1 -33
and oedipal relationships, 27, 95,
1 20, 1 2 1 , 200
and older women, 1 86
originality of, 1 32, 1 35-1 37, 1 42,
1 43
and philology, 62, 68-70, 72-73,
75-77, 79, 82, 90-92, 1 04- 1 05,
1 1 3, 1 32 - 1 33, 1 36, 1 38, 1 39, 1 44,
1 46
and philosophy, 1 1 2, 1 30, 1 62-1 63,
181
philosophy of, 7 1 , 75-77, 79-83,
1 79, 2 1 6, 241
and preoccupation with kingliness,
220
professorship, in Basel, 9 1 -92, 96,
98- 1 08, 229
relationship with sister Elisabeth,
40-41
Ritschl's judgment of, 99, 229
at school, 1 1 , 33-36
and Schopenhauer, 1 1 - 1 2, 70-7 1 ,
73-85, 86-89, 93, 94, 1 06, I l l ,
1 1 2, 1 1 � 1 20, 1 7� 1 7� 227
at Schulpforta, 46, 49, 50, 51, 55-58,
60
 258 Index

Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm (cont.) Institutions" (lectures) (Nietz­

and sex, 66-67, 78 sche), 148, 1 5 1 , 1 52, 1 56- 1 58
syphilis of, 26, 67, 225 �
"On t e Uses and Disadvantages of
and theology, 61, 62, 68-70, 225 H Istory for Life" (Nietzsche) . , 76 ,
and Triebschen years, 147-148 1 67-1 70, 1 8 1
at university, 6 1 , 63, 65, 68, 70 as autobiographical, 1 7 1 , 1 72
and Wagner, 96-99, 1 1 5- 1 1 9, 1 20- On the Will in Nature (Schopenhau
er) '
1 2 1 , 1 23, 1 25, 1 27- 1 28, 1 42, 1 43, 85
1 5 1 , 1 52, 1 56-1 57, 1 60- 1 6 1 , 1 73- Opera and Drama (Wagner), 98, 1 28
1 76, 1 8 1 , 183, 1 86- 1 92, 19� Overbeck, Franz, 109- 1 1 0
200-203, 245, 247 Oxenford, John, 86
women and girls, lack of interest in'
58, 65, 78, 89, 185
PaTerga and Paralipomena (after­
Nietzsche, Grandmother, 25, 29, 3 1 ,
thoughts and asides) (Schopen­
32-33, 38
hauer), 85, 86, 90, 228
Nietzsche, Joseph (Friedrich's
Parmenides, 1 62, 1 63, 1 64
brother), 25
Parsifal (opera) (Wagner), 1 22 1 59 ,
death of, 27-28 '
203
Nietzsche, Pastor Karl Ludwig (Fried-
"Party of humanity;" 2
rich's father), 10, 1 7, 108, 1 2 1
Patriotism, 1 1 1 , 202
and children, 24
"Perspectivism," 80
illness and death of, 25-27, 28, 30
loss of his father, 1 9-20
�
Pf�rrers and (German ministry), 1 8
PhIlologIcal Society (Philologischer Ver-
as pastor, 1 7, 20
ein), 72-73, 90
Nietzsche, Rosali e (Friedrich's aunt) '
Philology, 68, 90-93, 1 0 1 , 104- 106 '
22
1 50, 237
Nietzsche contra Wagner (Nietzsche) ,
. Philosophenbuch (Philosopher'S Book)
214
(Nietzsche), 1 65, 1 68, 1 72, 241
Nietzsches, conservatism of, 3 1
Philosophes, 2, 4, 5, 1 80
Nihilism, 1 4 "P�ilosophical seriousness," 7 1 , 1 27
Novel, the, 3, 4
PhIlosophy, 75-77, 79, 8 1 , 93, 1 39,
145, 181, 226
history of, 79, 82, 83, 1 62, 1 63
Ober'landesgericht (provincial court of
life-affirming, 80
appeals), 3 1 , 32
personal element in, 1 62, 1 63
Oedip al relationships, 27, 95, 1 20
' Schopenhauer's, 7 1 , 79-80, 85' 90 ,
1 2 1 , 200
226
Oehler, Pastor David (Friedrich's ma­ Western, 1 64
ternal grandfather), 1 7, 2 1 ' 37 ,
world-denying, 80
3� 48
"Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the
Oehler, Max, 1 8, 220
Greeks" (Nietzsche), 1 6 1 - 1 65,
Oehlers, as contrasted to Nietzsches
' 1 66, 1 72, 182, 241
2 1 -22
Pinder, Wilhelm, 11 32-35 37' 39, 40,
Old Faith and the New, The (Strauss) '
1 66
43, 49-50, 51, 5 , 60,2 64
relationship with Nietzsche, 4 1 , 42
On the Fourfold Root of Sufficient Reason .
Pmder (senior ), 1 1 , 32, 35, 36
(Schopenhauer), 85 Plato, 1 38
"On the Future of Our Educational (Platonic) Ideas, 87, 88
 Index 259

Principium individuationis (principle of Schopenpauer, Arthur, 1 1 , 1 2, 1 4- 1 6,

individuation), 87; see also Indi­ 70-71 , 73-79, 83-85, 93-94, 97,
viduation 1 1 1 - 1 13, 1 1 5, 1 1 7, 1 20, 1 24-1 28,
Private school, 33, 35, 36 1 35-137, 1 46, 1 48, 1 50, 1 5 1 , 1 57,
Prometheus, 52 1 58, 1 62- 1 64, 1 70, 1 73, 1 74, 1 76-
Proto-Nazism, 221 1 79, 1 82, 1 87, 1 89, 1 94, 208-2 1 1 ,
Prussian cadet schools, 47 2 1 3, 2 1 4, 2 1 7, 234, 244
Prussian society, 43 books of, 85
Public opinion, 1 51 , 1 53 genius theory of, 86-89, 231
Public school, 33, 34, 222 lack of recognition of, 86
Psychohistory, 22 1 philosophy of, 1 37, 1 44, 1 76, 1 78,
1 79
as "redemptive man," 1 80, 1 8 1
Ranke, Leopold von, 1 68, 226
and the will, 80-81 , 83
Schopenhauer as Educator (Schopenhauer
Rationalism, 1 30, 1 32, 1 45, 234
Rationality, 1 3 1 , 1 33
als Erzieher) (Nietzsche), 84, 1 73,
Reality, 80, 8 1 , 1 37
1 74, 1 76, 1 78, 1 80, 1 8 1 , 1 94, 244
Reason, 80
Schreber, D. G. M., 22 1
Ree, Paul, 1 84, 200
Schulmeisterisch (schoolmasterly), 52
Renaissance Man (men), 1 5, 2 1 0
Schulpforta, 1 1 , 33, 38, 44, 76
Representations ( Vorstellungen), 80,
academic standards of, 49
131
founding of, 46
Revenge, fear o f father's, 2 8
intention of, 48-49
Revolution o f 1 789, 2
under Prussian jurisdiction, 47
Rheinische Museum fur Philologie, Das,
as substitute father, 56
68, 73, 79, 9 1
Richard Wagner in Bayreuth (Nietzsche), Schure, Edward, 200-20 1
1 8 1 , 1 86, 1 89, 1 9 1 , 1 92, 1 94-19�
Scienc� 1 32, 13� 1 39, 1 4� 1 69
214
"Science and Wisdom at Odds" ("The
autobiographical element of, 1 93 Struggle Between Science and
Ring of the Nibelungen, The (Wagner), Wisdom") (Nietzsche), 1 8 1
1 1 9, 1 2 1 , 1 47, 1 59, 1 86, 1 94 Servi tude (Dienstbarkeit ), 1 53
Ritschl, Professor Friedrich, 1 1 , 1 2, Siegfried (opera) (Wagner), 1 24, 1 42
64, 68-70, 72-77, 79, 9 1; 98- 1 00, Socrates, 1 4, 1 27, 1 29, 132, 1 38
1 36, 1 42-144, 1 46, 1 47, 1 5 1 , 208, "new," 1 39
2 1 4, 2 1 7, 226, 233 ' "Socrates and Tragedy" (lecture)
on Nietzsche, 99, 229 (Nietzsche), 1 27, 1 29
Ritschl, Sofie, 94-95, 97 Sorrows of the Young Werther (Goethe),
Rohde, Erwin, 78-79, 89-90, 92, 1 0 1 , 4, 6
109, 1 1 2, 145, 1 46, 1 6 1 , 1 64, 1 67, Specialization, 1 32, 1 50, 1 69, 1 77
236-237 Spielhagen, Friedrich, 93
Rousseau, Jean:Jacques, 4 Spieser ("nerd"), 58
Statism, 1 1 2
Strachey, Lytton, 9
Sainthood, 1 79- 1 80 Strauss, David Friedrich, 1 65-1 67,
Schiller, Johann von, 1 04, 1 37, 1 38 241
Scholarship, 46, 48, 49, 52, 1 02, 1 32,
1 36, 1 69
mask of, 76 Tagebucher (Diaries) (Cosima von Bii­
"School-state," 46, 48 low), 1 23
260
Talent, 1 80
definition of, 5
innate, 4
Tannhiiuser (opera) (Wagner), 1 94
Theognis, essay on, 72, 73
Thus Spake Zarathustra (N ietzsche),
2 1 3-2 1 7
Tischendorf, Konstantin, 74-75
Toilet training, 24
Tragedy, 1 26-1 28, 1 32, 1 36- 1 38, 1 44,
1 8 1 , 234, 235
Attic, 1 1 1 , 1 1 4, 1 27, 1 29
Greek, 1 30, 1 33
rebirth of, 1 34, 1 38
riddle of, 1 35- 1 36
Trampedach, Mathilde, 1 84, 1 85
Transference relationship, 227
Tristan and Isolde (opera) (Wagner), 96,
1 93, 1 94
Triumphlied (Brahms), 1 75- 1 76
Truth, 1 4, 69, 1 63, 1 79, 2 1 0, 227
Twilight of the Idols, The (Nietzsche), 80
Two Fundamental Problems of Ethics, The
(Schopenhauer), 85
"Unmoved mover," 8, 2 1 3
Untimely Meditations (Nietzsche), 84,
1 68, 1 72, 1 73, 1 75, 1 8 1 , 206, 2 1 3
Usener, Professor Herman, 99
Valkyrie, The (opera) (Wagner), 96
Values, 1 4
Vischer-Bilfinger, Professor Wilhelm,
98- 1 00, 1 1 3
Voltaire, 2
Von Altenburg, Princess Alexandra,
1 08
Von Bismarck, Prince Otto, 1 8 1 , 243
Von Biilow, Co s ima, 1 1 6, 1 1 7, 1 1 9,
1 20, 1 23-1 25, 1 40, 1 42, 1 47, 1 60,
1 61 , 1 72
background of, 1 2 1 - 1 22
Von Biilow, Hans, 1 1 9-1 2 1
Von Carolsfeld, Ludwig Schnorr, 1 1 9,
1 20
Von Gersdorff, Carl, 5 1 , 53-54, 7 1 ,
109, 1 45, 1 6 1 , 1 73, 1 75, 1 83, 1 84,
225
Index
Von Meysenbug, Malwida, 1 86, 1 98-
200, 244
Von Salome, Lou, 1 84
Von Senger, Hugo, 1 84, 1 85
Von Treitschke, Heinrich, 1 68
Von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff,
Ulrich, 1 45, 1 46
Von Wittgenstein, Princess, 1 2 1
Wagner, Richard, 7, 1 1 - 1 6, 30, 35, 52,
82, 84, 87, 94-97, 1 09, 1 1 5-1 1 7,
1 2 1 , 1 22, 1 2� 1 2� 13� 1 3� 1 4�
148, 1 50, 1 52, 1 55, 1 56, 1 58, 1 60,
1 6 1 , 1 63-1 65, 1 67, 1 70, 1 72- 1 76,
1 78, 1 8 1 , 1 82, 1 84, 1 92, 1 96, 208-
2 1 1 , 2 1 3, 2 1 4, 2 1 6, 2 1 7, 229, 234,
236, 237
as actor, 244
as Aeschylus, 1 38, 1 40
and Bayreuth Festival, 1 96-197
and Birth of Tragedy, 140- 1 4 1
career of, 1 59
children of, 1 20
as creator, 1 1 8-1 1 9
encouragement to Nietzsche of,
1 27- 1 28
as enigma, 1 28
music of, 96
Nietzsche's critique of; 1 86- 1 89
Nietzsche's influence on, 1 42, 233
on Nietzsche's works, 1 64- 1 65,
1 67-1 68, 1 72 - 1 73
projects of, 1 23 - 1 24
and publi� 1 90- 1 9 1 , 1 94- 1 95
and Triebschen years, 147
and women, 1 1 9
and young men, 1 1 9 - 1 20
Wagner's music, 1 29, 1 30, 1 32, 1 34,
1 38
Wanderer and His Shadow, The (Nietz-
sche), 207
War games, 42-43
Weltanschauung, 94
Weltgeschichtliche Betrachtungen (Burck­
hardt), 1 1 2, 230
Wholeness, 1 77, 1 93
Wilhelm Meister (Goethe), 4
 Index
Will, the, 7 1 , 80-81 , 83, 93, 94,
1 3 1 , 1 37, 1 78, 1 79, 1 93, 234
intellect over, 89
"Will to power," 8 1 , 83
Willing, 8 1 , 1 37
Winckelmann, J. J., 1 04, 1 37,
1 50
Wissenschaft, 52, 1 02, 1 06, 1 45
Wolf, Friedrich August, 1 04
261
World as Will and Representation, The
(Schopenhauer), 70, 79-8 1 , 85,
86, 88, 208
Zarathustra, 208, 2 1 4-2 1 6
ZeitschTift fUT Musik, 52
Zukunftsmusik ("music of the future"),
191
Zukunftsphilologie (The Philology of the
Future) (Wilamowitz-Moellen­
dorff), 1 45
 Praise for
"YOUNG NIETZSCHE
"Provocative and ."
which a gifted but awkward philology student became one of the modern
.world's most original thinkers ..." Deserves to be read ...by anyone
tt
interested in the dynamics of creative influence and achievement.
- Michiko Kakutani, The New York Times

"An imaginative and acute psychological, biographical, and historical

analysis of a cultural construction - the idea of genius - that bears with
tt
originality and saliency on contemporary intellectual preoccupations.
- Steven Marcus, Author of Freud and the Culture ifpsychoanalysis

"An intellectual achievement of great originality and psychological

sophistication.PIetsch offers the reader the fruits of his long and creative
journey into Nietzsche's world of ideas and humanity which have far­
reaching implications for intellectual history, human development and, above
tt
all, the understanding of creativity.
- George Moraitis, M.D.
, Chicago Institute for Psychoanalysis

"PIetsch's brilliant and compelling account shows how the young Friedrich
Wilhelm, coming of age in a Europe saturated with. the ideology of genius,
turned himself into 'Nietzsche. ' In a narrative both subtle and powerful, he
offers us a Nietzsche w h o was, to use a much-abused term, a
tt
deconstructionist avant la lettre.
- Peter Novick, Author of That Noble Dream

"To my knowledge, there is no study of Nietzsche like it. PIetsch's great

virtue is being able to write a scholarly biography that is, in both argument
and manner, completely accessible to the intelligent layman.Pletsche's
account manages to be sympathetic yet objective, and he is unfailingly
tt
successful in rendering his subject intelligible.This is a rare achievement.
- Paul Robinson, Author of The Freudian Lift

ISBN 0-02-925042-0 THE FREE PRESS

90000)

Illpl A Division
NEW YORK
ifMacmillan, Inc.

© 1992 Macmillan, Inc. (New York)

Cover design © Soloway-Mitchell
29 250426 Cover hoto © The Bettmann Archive