My Friend,
How difficult you make it for me to prove the delight I take in you. I was most painfully impressed by the news of your illness. You must forgive us for having frequently observed, and always with a feeling of the deepest anxiety, certain recurring symptoms, not in your growth, but in the fixation phases, so to speak, of your professional career, in so far as these have an effect upon your inner, soul life. From the beginning of our friendship, we have observed disquieting symptoms, of which, it is true, you have frequently offered an explanation, but which have then repeated themselves at such regular intervals as to arouse in our minds the most serious misgivings as to the possibility of maintaining our intimate and friendly intercourse.
You have now given to the world a work which is unequalled. Every outside influence that has been brought to bear upon you has been rendered practically negligible by the entire character of this work, and above all, your book is characterized by an assurance so consummate as to betoken the most profound originality. In what other way could my wife and I have realized the most ardent wish of our lives, which was that some day something might come to us from without and take full possession of our hearts and souls! Each of us has read your book twice—once alone during the day, and then aloud in the evening. We fairly fight over the one copy and regret that the promised second one has not yet arrived. I must have it in order to get myself in the proper mood for working after breakfast, as I am again hard at work on the last act since reading your book. Whether alone or together, our reading is always punctuated by exclamations. For my part, I am still somewhat dazed by the thought of having been vouchsafed an experience of this kind. This is the way matters stand with us! Then we turn to you—and are consumed with anxiety! And just when the most remarkable suspicions have taken hold of us, and we have almost arrived at the conclusion that the publication of the book—if not, indeed, the entire conception of the same—had plunged you, temporarily at least, into a frame of mind strangely resembling regret, you suddenly break your long silence and inform us that you have been ill.
These illnesses of yours have already caused us great anxiety, not because they arouse any serious fears as to your physical condition, but rather as to the state of your emotional life. If you would only reassure us by writing us a comforting word, or better still, by a visit, even though it be of necessity a short one!
Friend! What I am now saying to you is of such character that it cannot be put away with a laughing assurance. You have a profound nature, and there has been nothing in our intercourse which could lead you to believe that my own feelings are of a superficial character. I also understand you as you reveal yourself in the musical composition with which you so thoughtfully surprised us. It is difficult, however, for me to acquaint you with my sympathetic comprehension, and it is just because I feel conscious of this difficulty that I am all the more embarrassed in expressing myself.
And furthermore, my friend, what could I say to you that you do not already know, and could say quite as well to yourself did you speak from your innermost consciousness? You see and perceive everything, so that it has been a hitherto undreamed-of delight to be permitted to see and perceive through your eyes.
I have also gained a much better understanding of many things now engrossing your attention in connection with your vocation—for example, with your ideas in regard to pedagogy, some of which you had already intimated to me. Through you, I have gained a wide and sweeping perspective, and immeasurable vistas of promising activity open up before me—with you at my side!
But you are ill! Are you also discouraged? If so, how gladly would I do something to dispel your despondency! How shall I begin? Are you not satisfied with my unqualified praise? Did I feel compelled to doubt this, I should be, indeed, miserable! Nevertheless, I can do no other than lavish my praise upon you. Accept it, at least, in a friendly spirit, even though it leave you unsatisfied!
Heartfelt greetings.
Source: The Nietzsche-Wagner Correspondence, ed. Elizabeth Foerster-Nietzsche, trans. Caroline V. Kerr (Boni and Liveright, 1921), No. 23