Dear friend,
It was really splendid of you to write to me on your birthday, at the same time my wife was writing to you. What you say is very comforting and agreeably expresses the serious mood which seems to have taken possession of us all at present. This mood might almost be called one of apprehension, created by our disgust at everything we see and hear. Under the influence of this mood we again ask ourselves the question: What is to be done with this disreputable old world? Liszt has been with us for eight days. We learned to love him anew, but when he left we were filled with the same old misgivings. What did we not hear from him of all that is taking place in the world, of which, to be sure, we already knew quite enough, but which fairly frightened us to death when thus heard in detail! Knowing that the world classes us together as outcasts, he thought he would be doing us a favor by repeating all sorts of baseness and ingratitude. More and more I have the feeling that I know but little of my own age, and possibly it is better so if one is writing for posterity. But it is a curious thing, this being made to feel as if I were a novice under constant surveillance. When one is working among the primeval elements, as it were, he comes to realize how imperative is the unbounded solitude of the individual. I am now better able to understand what it was that so often stifled and suffocated you. It was because you looked about you too much in the world. The thing now is to see and yet not to see. By abandoning all hope, one can possibly rid himself also of despair. The feeling is growing in my mind that the only possible means a man has of distinguishing himself from the age in which he lives is to become thoroughly conscious of his own strength, and to do this, if needs be, by engaging in a pitched battle with the meanness and pettiness of the age. As far as I am concerned, I have arrived at the point where I do not intend to mince matters, and should the Empress Augusta cross my path she would fare precisely as others do in this respect. Something must come of all this, for one thing is certain: compromise is not to be considered for a moment. Having got one's self so cordially hated, the only thing to be done is to make one's self feared. . . .
I think more and more about "What is German?" and my latest studies on this question have aroused the most remarkable degree of scepticism in my mind, so that I am now beginning to believe that "being German" is a purely metaphysical conception. As such, however, it is intensely interesting to me, and in any case is unique in the history of the world, and is to be compared only to Judaism, unless Hellenism can also be made to serve as an historical parallel.
And then I turn my eyes upon my son, my Siegfried. The boy is growing sturdier and stronger every day and is no less ready with his wits than with his fists. He is a complete marvel to me, and if despair has been chased away by the presence of my beloved wife at my side, I am now learning from the boy what it means to hope again. And so the old dance begins anew, but this time to a more vigorous rhythm. It is the boy, my friend, who causes me to turn now to you and inspires me with a passionate desire—from reasons of pure family egotism, it must be confessed—to see all the hopes I have placed in you pushed forward to fulfillment, for the boy needs you—ah, how he needs you!
But I have said this to you before. You know one is given to repetition as one grows older! It is the same with my expectorations in brochure form with which I have deluged the world, and you in particular. You have doubtless received the essay on Actors and Singers. This is another way of getting at the matter; this time, I have worked directly through the comedians. And again it has happened that no sooner have I finished than all sorts of pertinent ideas occur to me, thus leaving me a hook upon which to hang a future brochure. But just think of all this being wasted upon the desert air! In thinking the matter over, I have not the faintest idea to whom I could send the gratis copies. Would you like to have some for your colleagues in Basle? Rohde, of course, will receive one. By the way, the reference to your Basle colleagues reminds me to announce our approaching visit to you and your friends. Early in November we are planning to start out on our voyage of discovery through the German Empire. The first interruption in our regular itinerary will be a visit to the celebrated dentist in Basle, whose services can no longer be dispensed with. I imagine that this will take about eight full days, and thus there would be eight evenings which we hope to spend in the society of you and your friends, and thereby feel ourselves compensated for all the bad treatment we are obliged to endure during the day. As now planned, we shall arrive about the third week in November, at which time we will obtain from you assurances as to the whereabouts and willingness of the American (dentist). Our life here is a somewhat dissolute one, occasioned by our removal to the Dammallee. Liszt's visit was the outstanding event, during which the capacity of our present "salon" was put to the severest test. As far as such a thing is possible, we have come to a clear understanding with this wonderful man, and we regret all the more profoundly that we had—and have—very little hope of being able to do anything for this ruined life. It is still possible that he may decide to settle down with us here in Bayreuth. After hearing your New Year's Echoes, he found Bülow's harsh verdict very extreme. Without having heard you play the composition (and this, for us, was the decisive factor), he pronounced a different and much more favorable judgment upon your "music." Therefore, let us drop the Bülow intermezzo; it seems to me as if here two singular personalities of the most extreme viewpoints had come in violent contact. All of this I say to you by way of parenthesis, for when all is said and done, the most vital thing is that each one of us must come to a clear understanding with himself, quite independent of outside criticism. Last summer I re-read your book, and my wife has devoured it again more recently. I am sure that your ears must have burned just as if they heard very good music.
At last you will receive a very respectable letter from me. May my chatter fill you with fresh courage, and at any rate serve to show that in the long run I am not affected by the baseness and meanness of men and things. A further advantage I gain thereby is that of being able to speak to you in a cheerful strain.
Greetings from all of us, with the hope of seeing you soon in the city of Erasmus.
Source: The Nietzsche-Wagner Correspondence, ed. Elizabeth Foerster-Nietzsche, trans. Caroline V. Kerr (Boni and Liveright, 1921), No. 32