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Nietzsche as
Egoist and Mystic
Andrew Milne
Nietzsche as Egoist and Mystic
Andrew Milne
Nietzsche as Egoist
and Mystic
Andrew Milne
University of Western Australia
Perth, WA, Australia
ISBN 978-3-030-75006-0 ISBN 978-3-030-75007-7 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-75007-7
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature
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For W.K.
Acknowledgements
I have benefitted greatly from the support and feedback of Nin Kirkham,
Iain McGilchrist, Christian Lee, Michael Levine, and Michael Schrader.
This book developed out of my doctoral dissertation, and I wish to thank
my examiners, John Carroll, John Richardson, and Manu Bazzano, for
their appraisals. I would also like to thank Mage Publishers for permis-
sion to quote from Dick Davis’ translations of Hafez, and Professor Davis
for his encouragement.
vii
References to Nietzsche’s Works
I have made extensive use of the electronic version of the G. Colli and
M. Montinari critical edition of Nietzsche’s Werke and Briefwechsel avail-
able under the editorship of P. D’Iorio at <http://www.nietzschesource.
org/eKGWB/>. I have referenced this source rather than the print ver-
sions for ease of access. The notes are prefixed NF (Nachlass Fragment)
and the letters BVN (Briefe von Nietzsche). The references offered in the
footnotes can simply be pasted in front of the URL above.
* * *
Nietzsche’s works are referred to in the footnotes using the following

abbreviations:
BT The Birth of Tragedy, in The Birth of Tragedy and the Case of

Wagner, trans. W. Kaufmann, Vintage Books, 1967.
UM Untimely Meditations, trans. R.J. Hollingdale, Cambridge
University Press, 1997.
HH Human, All Too Human, trans. R.J. Hollingdale, Cambridge
D Daybreak, trans. R.J. Hollingdale, Cambridge University
Press, 1997.
GS The Gay Science, trans. W. Kaufmann, Vintage Books, 1974.
ix
x References to Nietzsche’s Works
Z Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. W. Kaufmann, Penguin, 1978.

BGE Beyond Good and Evil, trans. W. Kaufmann, Vintage
Books, 1966.
GM On the Genealogy of Morals, in On the Genealogy of Morals and
Ecce Homo, trans. W. Kaufmann, Vintage Books, 1989.
CW The Case of Wagner. See BT.
TI Twilight of the Idols, in The Portable Nietzsche, trans.
W. Kaufmann, Penguin, 1976.
AC The Antichrist. See TI.
EH Ecce Homo. See GM.
NCW Nietzsche contra Wagner. See TI.
PPP The Pre-Platonic Philosophers, trans. G. Whitlock, University of
Illinois Press, 2006.
PTAG Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks, trans. M. Cowan,
Regnery Publishing, 1962.
TEN Writings from the Early Notebooks, trans. L. Löb, Cambridge
TLN Writings from the Late Notebooks, trans. K. Sturge, Cambridge
WP The Will to Power, trans. W. Kaufmann and R.J. Hollingdale,
Vintage Books, 1968.
SL Selected Letters, trans. C. Middleton, Hackett Publishing, 1996.
References to Goethe’s Works
Nothing comparable to the scholarly English translations of Nietzsche’s

writings currently exists for much of Goethe’s work. As a result, many of
the translations offered are, for better or worse, my own. This also helps
to negate some of the rights difficulties arising from the many quotations
from Goethe’s poems. References from extant English translations of
works by Goethe are, however, used where possible. Those cited infre-
quently are given directly in the footnotes, while those which are used
frequently are referred to using the following abbreviations:
GF Goethe’s Faust, ed. and trans. W. Kaufmann, Anchor Books, 1963.

WED West-East Divan, trans. M. Bidney, Global Academic
Publishing, 2010.
D&W Truth and Poetry: From My Own Life, trans. J. Oxenford, Hendry
G. Bohn Publishers, 1848.
SS Scientific Studies, ed. and trans. D. Miller, Suhrkamp, 1988.
M&R Maxims and Reflections, trans. E. Stopp, Penguin, 1998.
CWG Conversations of Goethe with Eckermann and Soret, ed. and trans.
J. Oxenford, George Bell & Sons, 1875.
C&E Conversations and Encounters, ed. and trans. D. Luke and
R. Pick, Oswald Wolff, 1966.
xi
Contents
1 The Sanctification of Nietzsche 1
2 Ancestors, Part I 13
3 Ancestors, Part II 35
4 Mysticism from Birth to Breakdown 65
5 Against Mediation 93
6 The Great Hospital121
7 On Being Enamoured147
8 Hafez Shrugs the Cloak171
Index205
xiii
1
The Sanctification of Nietzsche
It is hardly anything new to present Nietzsche as a religious figure. While

Nietzsche was still in some sense of the world alive, spiritual seekers
descended on his corpse. His odious sister Elisabeth—whom Nietzsche
regarded as his “greatest objection” to existence1—ushered the pilgrims in
for darshan. Rudolf Steiner was amongst those permitted to kneel at the
master’s feet, and he declared that Nietzsche was “radiating the peace of
the sage”.2 But of course, by this late stage in his mental decline, Nietzsche
was no longer radiating anything more than the tranquillity of a turnip.
It is not only cranks and crackpots who have sought to canonise the
Antichrist. One serious scholar of Nietzsche’s work has claimed that
Nietzsche was “above all a religious thinker”,3 and many others would
agree. In the now expansive literature on the subject, one can find
Nietzsche’s thought situated in a wide range of religious contexts, ranging
from Pietism and Communitarianism through to Neoplatonic mysticism
and Mahayana Buddhism.
I understand, and to a great extent share, the initial dismay that some
people feel when they encounter scholars expatiating on Nietzsche’s phi-
losophy of religion. After all, was Nietzsche not by his own lights an
instinctive atheist4 who saw religions as “affairs of the rabble”5? Nietzsche
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 1

A. Milne, Nietzsche as Egoist and Mystic,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-75007-7_1
2 A. Milne
plainly was committed to sounding out the hypocrisy of the holy, who he
saw as mendacious decadents motivated by the desire to revenge them-
selves on the world and on the healthy.
Despite this, I think that there is some truth to the view that Nietzsche’s
thought has a distinctly religious character. But it is a religious character
with some striking and at times perplexing features. To begin with, there
is nothing pious about it. Nietzsche said, “I do not want to be a holy
man; sooner even a buffoon”, and that he’d rather be a “satyr than a
saint”.6 Indeed, Nietzsche claimed that “ingenious buffoonery” was the
“highest form of spirituality”.7 This sense of humour was not born of an
otherworldly detachment—of the sense that this life is not to be taken
seriously. On the contrary, it came from a sense that taking this life seri-
ously demands a playful spirit.
Nietzsche thought that the value of a man or race could be deter-
mined by their incapacity to “conceive god apart from the satyr”, and
claimed that a kind of “divine malice” was necessary to perfection.8
Nietzsche’s consistent praise of enmity, and his claim to have “spiritual-
ised hostility”9 must not be forgotten. “The peace of the sage” was never
Nietzsche’s aim. He was a volatile figure who saw in the embrace of his
own internal torment the possibility of a great fecundity.10 Nietzsche did
not seek a way out of the “wicked game” of life and suffering, but wanted
an affirmation of life as a whole, including its most questionable and
unpleasant aspects.
Of all religious contexts in which to situate Nietzsche’s thought, many
scholars have found one or other mystical milieu to be the most appro-
priate. It is not difficult to see why: the stress is typically not on following
a given code of values, or on orthodox professions of belief, but rather on
the individual’s direct experience of identity with the whole. But this
identification typically has an altruistic upshot: if the other is, in
Schopenhauer’s words, “I once more”, then what reason do I have to
prioritise me over him? And it is at this point that the attempt to draw
comparisons with Nietzsche’s thought becomes extremely strained.
Nietzsche derided all “moralities of unselfing”, and mounted a striking
defence of self-preferencing as a part of his project to “give egoism a good
conscience”.11
In The Gay Science, Nietzsche wrote that “those who want to mediate
between two resolute thinkers show that they are mediocre; they lack eyes
for seeing what is unique. Seeing things as similar and making things the
same is the sign of weak eyes”.12 Yet this has not stopped certain scholars
from concluding that Nietzsche was quasi-Buddhist whose brooding
walks were really a form of meditation, and that this unrepentant egotist
was truly a renunciate of self and an “advocate of the Bodhisattva ideal”.13
Nietzsche did claim an identification of part and whole, speaking for
example of all humans as being “buds on a single tree” and of the need to
“experience cosmically!”14 But in Nietzsche’s mature thought, this identi-
fication did not lead to a depreciation of the self in favour of the Self.
Rather, it led to a sense of the “tremendously great significance” of the
individual.15 To see why, it is necessary to understand Nietzsche’s concep-
tion of the relation of the one to the many, the part to the whole. Unlike
most mystical thinkers who imagine a ground—or groundlessness—
beneath manifestation, an unmanifest aspect to existence, Nietzsche alto-
gether denied the existence of a beyond, a whole apart from the parts. On
such a view, to deprecate the individual would be to deprecate the whole:
where the whole is wholly in the parts, the only way to affirm the whole
is through the parts.
This way of conceiving of the one and the many owes a great to the
philosophical lineage to which Nietzsche claimed to belong. In a note,
Nietzsche wrote “my ancestors: Heraclitus, Empedocles, Spinoza, Goethe”.16
It is my view that a focus on Nietzsche’s engagement with these thinkers
can be of great help in making sense of Nietzsche’s religious thought. Yet
these ancestors have not proved common focal points in existing studies,
with scholars preferring to draw comparisons with Christian and Buddhist
mystical traditions. My aim in the present work is to show that these
attempted mediations are basically misguided, and to offer a more prom-
ising context for situating Nietzsche’s religious thought.
* * *
Each of Nietzsche’s self-proclaimed ‘ancestors’ may be regarded not only

as monistic but also mystic, with each stressing a sense in which all things
are one. But those senses certainly are not one, and I use Chaps. 2 and 3
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for unpacking their varying conceptions of the one and the many. Chapter
2 I devote to Goethe alone, and in Chap. 3, I discuss Heraclitus,
Empedocles, and Spinoza. One reason for granting particular attention
to Goethe is that his influence on Nietzsche is not only unparalleled, but
has been largely overlooked by scholars of Nietzsche’s philosophy of
religion.
Of these ancestors, Goethe is easily the least well studied by philoso-
phers. It certainly doesn’t help that Goethe’s religious thought has been
rather radically misrepresented by all manner of Christers and Shysters.17
Thus, I spend part of Chap. 2 attempting to get Goethe out from under
his worst exegetes. I then go on to discuss Goethe’s original and challeng-
ing conception according to which the one is symbolic of the many. I
explore the nature of symbolism in Goethe’s thought, and show how this
conception of the one and the many is developed in both Goethe’s poetic
and morphological work.
In Chap. 3, I discuss Nietzsche’s reading of Heraclitus, Empedocles,
and Spinoza. Nietzsche emphasised the unitive nature of each ancestor’s
thought. For instance, he offered a striking interpretation of Heraclitus
on which “the one is the many”. Nietzsche claimed that the view that “all
living things are one” to be the essence of Empedocles’ philosophy, a view
he directly associated with Goethe. I show that Goethe once again plays
an important role in Nietzsche’s engagement with Spinoza. Nietzsche
expressly contrasted Spinoza’s “anaemic” philosophy with Goethe’s
“paganism”, and I argue that Goethe’s model of a sensual spirituality is
central to Nietzsche’s transformation of Spinoza’s amor dei intellectualis
into his own ideal of amor fati.
Chapter 4 demonstrates Nietzsche’s sustained interest in mystical
experience throughout his philosophical career, and shows the marked
development of his attitudes towards these experiences. I begin by put-
ting the discussions of unitive phenomena in The Birth of Tragedy into the
context of Nietzsche’s reflections on his own experiences from that period.
I then explore Nietzsche’s discussions of mystical experiences in an impor-
tant 1881 notebook which surrounds his first discussions of the eternal
recurrence of the same. Finally, I take up Nietzsche’s mature discussions
of mysticism, many of which have never been addressed in the literature
on Nietzsche’s religious thought.
Previous scholarly attempts to mediate between Nietzsche and mystics

from religious traditions of both the East and West are discussed in
Chap. 5. I argue that the principal inadequacy of these studies has been
their failure to take cognizance of Nietzsche’s egoism. Sometimes these
studies conclude that Nietzsche was—in the words of one scholar—a
“Zebra”: half mystic, half egoist.18 That is, Nietzsche was at odds with
himself—and there is no doubt about which is the better half. Here we
get the claim that, to adapt Chesterton’s quip, Nietzsche and Buddhism
are very much alike, especially Buddhism.19 Against such views, I argue
that there is a consonance between the egoistic and mystical aspects of
Nietzsche’s thought which has not generally been understood. I also con-
sider in some detail Nietzsche’s engagement with the thought of mystics
such as Meister Eckhart, and show that Nietzsche criticised the lack of
“self-esteem” that came from their mistaken conception of the relation-
ship of part and whole.20
Nietzsche spoke of the possibility of standing in a “Dionysian relation-
ship to existence”,21 and defined this Dionysian state as the “temporary
identification with the principle of life”.22 I argue that Nietzsche saw
these transitory unitive experiences as facilitating an embrace of all aspects
of life, including egoism and hostility. Nietzsche conceived of his
Dionysian spirituality as “the religious affirmation of life, life whole and
not denied or halved”.23 Contrary to several scholars of Nietzsche’s reli-
gious thought, I contend that Nietzsche’s criticism of the nihilistic ten-
dencies of religious traditions extends even to the apparently this-worldly
mystical traditions, so long as those traditions seek to make to make the
individual subordinate to the whole. I show that, in Nietzsche’s view,
those who think they are “getting back to wholeness”24 by rejecting indi-
viduality are deluded, and that their one-sided affirmation actually
denies life.
Nietzsche described egoism as the “law of perspective” according to
which what is nearest appears largest.25 In Chap. 6, Nietzsche’s defence of
egoism as self-privileging is taken up with respect to his claims of the
identification of part and whole. In this chapter, I clarify what Nietzsche
meant in speaking of a “whole and holy” selfishness. I show that Nietzsche
considered the task of certain individuals to be to enrich the whole in
themselves. To this end, these individuals must feel the “inner certainty
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of having a right to everything”.26 They must also be willing to look away

from the suffering of others in order to undertake their own projects,
from which pity acts as a constant seduction. I argue that Goethe is
Nietzsche’s model for a whole and holy selfishness. Goethe’s capacity for
selective attention is discussed, as are his concerns about the transforma-
tion of the world into a great hospital in which each man is the other’s
humane nurse. With the claim that a society of mutual care-givers and
palliators would lead to a diminution of the whole, Nietzsche’s infamous
criticisms of pity are seen in a new light.
Chapter 7 takes up Nietzsche’s conception of fate. I show that these
discussions offer some of Nietzsche’s most startling claims about the
identity of part and whole. I pay particular attention to Nietzsche’s con-
ception of the self as fate. On such a view, the individual is not conceived
of as something fated—something on which fate acts. Rather, the indi-
vidual is conceived of as a “piece of fate”. I argue that this identification
with fate should not be conceived of as an ultimate identity, as opposed
to a relative, egoic identity. Nietzsche claimed, “fate is an elevating
thought for one who understands that he belongs to it”.27 With reference
to the conception of the one and the many articulated in the foregoing, I
show how this Nietzschean conception of fate engenders the “self-esteem”
which he found sorely lacking in certain mystics.
Finally, in Chap. 8, I discuss Nietzsche’s reception of the Persian poet
Hafez. Throughout the 1880s, Nietzsche sung the praises of Hafez. Yet
this relationship has gone almost entirely unstudied in the immense sec-
ondary literature on Nietzsche. This neglect is particularly important to
address here, as Hafez is example of a mystic with a good conscience in
everything sensual and egoistic. My approach is to first make clear the
intellectual context in which Nietzsche encountered Hafez. Hammer,
Daumer, and Goethe all interpreted Hafez’ songs celebrating love and
wine in a fairly straightforward manner, as opposed to the sufisticating
tendency to turn Hafez into just the kind of “pious prig” that he most
abhorred.
I then consider each of Nietzsche’s discussions of Hafez in some detail.
Far from finding in Hafez the model of piety, I show how Nietzsche posi-
tioned Hafez amongst great satirists like Aristophanes, Petronius. Lauding
the “blissfully mocking” nature of Hafez’ poems,28 Nietzsche found in
Hafez an example of that “ingenious buffoonery” that he called the high-

est form of spirituality.29 Nietzsche considered Hafez an “artist of apo-
theosis”, setting him in the rare company of Rubens and Goethe. I argue
that Nietzsche placed Hafez beside Goethe as a prime example of how
“the most spiritual men… are sensualists in the best faith”.30 Speaking
explicitly of Hafez and Goethe, Nietzsche spoke of how the best consti-
tuted and most joyful mortals embrace the “unstable equilibrium” of
their conflicting inward forces.31 Rather than finding the tensions between
their ‘animal’ and ‘angel’ an argument against life, they find them another
‘seduction to life’. I argue that in Hafez, Nietzsche found an exemplar of
the Dionysian “religious affirmation of life” in even its most questionable
aspects.
* * *
In closing this introduction, and by way of briefly addressing my

approach, I would like to say something about this book’s dedication.
While Walter Kaufmann’s studies of Nietzsche have been improved
upon in many non-trivial respects by subsequent scholars, it seems the
destiny of anyone wanting to undertake a general treatment to fall rather
short of the standards he set. Yet if one has taken Kaufmann at all seri-
ously, one cannot help wanting to situate a study in a broad context—his
criticisms of an excessively narrow specialisation are simply too incisive to
ignore. One of Kaufmann’s common themes was that there are many
things which must be seen together if they are to be seen at all.32
Nietzsche said he deserved readers who read him “the way good old
philologists read their Horace”.33 His writing certainly repays careful
attention, but it is also true that features that are very striking at an ordi-
nary scale can easily disappear under the microscope. In Zarathustra,
Nietzsche mocked narrow specialisation in the figure of the pedant who
proudly declares “the brain of the leech: that is my world”.34 Those who
would rather “know nothing than half-know much” might present this as
conscientiousness, but Zarathustra knew better.
I hope that my debt to Kaufmann will be obvious throughout, though
I can’t help feeling that I have short-changed him. My dedication seems
8 A. Milne
bound to invite unflattering comparisons. It is not merely the poverty of

my German—it’s my English, too. Kaufmann’s deft touch is bound to
make my every attempted pizzicato sound ham-fingered. This is doubt-
less a feeling that many writing about Nietzsche feel. Many have sought
to cast it off by affecting an all too heavy seriousness that can never do
justice to their topic. To write about Nietzsche in the manner of Kant
should be a satirist’s conceit, yet that conceit has become the norm. It is
again to Kaufmann that we owe some of our most penetrating analysis of
the disastrous model set by the perennially constipated Kant.35
It should also be borne in mind that it is largely due to Kaufmann that
English speakers have caught a sense of Nietzsche’s wit. Most transla-
tions, including the ever growing numbers that have followed Kaufmann’s
and benefitted from their example, can’t touch his for style. And yet this
was a man whose earliest scholarly efforts were in saving Nietzsche from
the then widespread view that while he was a great stylist, he was no great
thinker. Kaufmann saw very clearly that understanding Nietzsche’s
humour is quite inseparable from understanding his seriousness.
Kaufmann did not suffer from the pervasive Perennialism that makes
scholars see all things as one. He treated the task of comparison as one of
differentiation.36 I find this approach to be the most intellectually honest,
and also the most interesting. If the differences between, say, Nietzsche
and Meister Eckhart strike us as less fascinating than their similarities,
something has gone quite wrong. It is not because I think that Nietzsche
is generally right that I try to bring out these differences. I hope to have
learned a lesson from Kaufmann’s concerted railing against what he called
“exegetical thinking”—the process by which a reader confers authority
on a text before projecting his own ideas into it, only to get them back
“endowed with authority”.37 This process might seem inevitable when the
texts are Nietzsche’s since they are so crowded with voices that at least one
will resonate with one’s own voice—and thus, be heard the loudest. But
this is to make a necessity, if not a virtue, of one’s weaknesses. I find much
in Nietzsche to disagree with. But it is not by focussing exclusively on the
agreeable aspects that we benefit. Rather, I have found that much of the
enduring reward of engaging with Nietzsche’s thought comes from
regarding oneself as the target of his assaults, and not safely in the camp
behind him.
Finally, I am indebted to Kaufmann for my belated realisation that

understanding Goethe is indispensable to a deep appreciation of
Nietzsche’s thought. Not only did Kaufmann argue convincingly for a
view which Nietzsche simply took for granted: that Goethe was a model
of autonomy.38 He also had a great ability to bring Goethe to life. To get
a sense of this, one should read Kaufmann’s translation of the great dia-
logue between Mephisto (posing as Faust) and the student in the first
part of Faust.39 Read against Kaufmann’s, even the translations of very
accomplished poets, like Jarrell, tend to drag. Kaufmann’s version has all
the agile impetus of Wilbur’s Tartuffe.
The claim that Goethe can be enjoyed in the way that one enjoys
Molière might strike some as plainly false, even indecent. It is my view
that those who dismiss Goethe as a stuffed shirt have plainly not caught
the tone of the ‘presiding personality’. But I think that the same is true
for many who take themselves to be Goethe’s heirs. That is, some who
take Goethe seriously take him far too seriously. Jung claimed that Faust
was too great a book to be enjoyed, but was to be studied for its arcane
meanings. I will presently argue that such an esoteric approach to Goethe
is fundamentally misguided. But it is Kaufmann I must thank for first
opening my eyes to the abundant rewards right there on the surface.
Notes
1. EH “Why I Am So Wise” §3. This and related comments were sup-
pressed by Elisabeth, and consequently cannot be found in all editions.
See: F. Nietzsche, The Anti-Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols, and
Other Writings, ed. A. Ridley and J. Norman, trans. J. Norman,
Cambridge University Press, 2007, pp. 77–78.
2. In his journal for Jan. 22, 1896, Steiner wrote that Nietzsche was “Friede
des Weisen um sich verbreitend”.
3. J. Young, Nietzsche’s Philosophy of Religion, Cambridge University Press,
2006, p. 201, p. 35, p. 142. On Young’s reading, Nietzsche affirmed “a
form of pantheism” (p. 35) which involved the “ecstatic identification
with the totality of things” (p. 142). One will find much in what follows
to support such a view. But one will also find strong reasons to regard as
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fundamentally misguided Young’s contention that Nietzsche advocated

a kind of “communitarianism” according to which “the good of the
organic, social whole takes precedence over… the good of each and every
individual” (p. 165).
4. EH “Why I Write Such Good Books” UM§2, p. 279.
5. EH “Why I Am A Destiny” §1, p. 326.
6. EH “Preface” §2, p. 217. Nietzsche speaks of his “terrible fear” that he
would be “pronounced holy”, and says that he wrote the book to “pre-
vent people doing mischief with him”. This fear was quickly proven well-
founded, with his close friend Peter Gast making just such a
pronouncement at Nietzsche’s funeral.
7. NF-1888,18[3].
8. EH “Why I Am So Clever” §4, p. 245.
9. TI “Morality as Anti-Nature”, 3, p. 488.
10. C.f. GS§283 on how living at war with oneself is the secret to “harvest-
ing from existence the greatest fruitfulness”.
11. NF-1883,16[15].
12. GS§228, p. 212.
13. Parkes writes “Nietzsche was able to practise a vigorous form of walking
meditation (corresponding to the slower kinhin in the Zen tradition)
that allowed him to hear the “inner voices” of his thoughts rather than
the chatter of his I”. See: G. Parkes, “Nietzsche, Panpsychism, and Pure
Experience: An East-Asian Contemplative Perspective”, in A. Rehberg
(ed.), Nietzsche and Phenomenology, Cambridge Scholars Publishing,
2011, p. 98. Parkes’ claim that Nietzsche advocated a “Bodhisattva ideal”
is taken up in Chap. 5.
14. NF-1881,11[7].
15. NF-1887,9[30] (WP§785, pp. 412–413).
16. NF-1884,25[454]. This is not to deny that there are other influences of
comparable importance, or that Nietzsche made other such lists. For
example, Nietzsche wrote that “I have a lineage… that which moved
Zarathustra, Moses, Mohammed, Jesus, Plato, Brutus, Spinoza, and
Mirabeau is the medium in which I live…” (NF-1881,15[17]) and
“When I speak of Plato, Pascal, Spinoza, and Goethe, I know that their
blood flows in my veins” (NF-1881,12[52]). It is worth noting that both
of these fragments occur in the notebooks shortly after some important
discussions of mystical experiences, which I discuss in Chap. 4.
17. This borrows Kaufmann’s divinely malicious translation of Goethe’s

rhyme on “Laffen” und “Pfaffen” at the beginning of Faust. See: GF, p. 93.
18. See B. W. Davis, “Reply to Graham Parkes: Nietzsche as Zebra: With
both Egoistic Antibuddha and Nonegoistic Bodhisattva Stripes”, and
G. Parkes, “Reply to Bret Davis: Zarathustra and Asian Thought: A Few
Final Words”, both published in Journal of Nietzsche Studies, vol.
46, 2015.
19. G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, The Bodley Head, 1909, pp. 238–239:
“Students of popular science, like Mr. Blatchford, are always insisting
that Christianity and Buddhism are very much alike, especially
Buddhism.”
20. NF-1884,26[442].
21. NF-1888,16[32] (WP§1041, p. 536).
22. NF-1883,8[14] (WP§417, p. 224).
23. NF-1888,14[89] (WP§1052, p. 542).
24. NF-1888,15[113] (WP§351, pp. 191–193).
25. GS§162, p. 199.
26. NF-1887,10[128] (WP§388, p. 209).
27. NF-1884,26[442].
28. GS§370, pp. 329–330.
29. NF-1888,18[3].
30. NF-1886,5[34] (WP§1045, pp. 537–538.).
31. GM.III§2, pp. 98–99.
32. For example, W. Kaufmann, The Future of the Humanities, Reader’s
Digest Press, 1977, §72.
33. EH “Why I Write Such Good Books” §5, p. 266.
34. Z “The Leech”, p. 250.
35. W. Kaufmann, Goethe, Kant, and Hegel, Discovering the Mind, Vol. I,
Transaction Publishers, 1991, §31.
36. This comparative approach is evident in virtually all of Kaufmann’s
works, but see in particular W. Kaufmann, Religions in Four Dimensions,
Reader’s Digest Press, 1976.
37. W. Kaufmann, The Future of the Humanities, op. cit., §21.
38. See especially W. Kaufmann, Goethe, Kant, and Hegel, where the com-
parison of Goethe’s model of autonomy with that of Kant forms a
major theme.
39. GF, pp. 194–207.
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Bibliography
Kaufmann, W., The Future of the Humanities, Reader’s Digest Press, 1977.
———, Goethe, Kant, and Hegel: Discovering the Mind, Vol. I, Transaction
Publishers, 1991.
Parkes, P., “Nietzsche, Panpsychism, and Pure Experience: An East-Asian
Contemplative Perspective”, in A. Rehberg (ed.), Nietzsche and Phenomenology,
Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011, pp. 87–100.
Young, J., Nietzsche’s Philosophy of Religion, Cambridge University Press, 2006.
2
Ancestors, Part I
Kaufmann claimed that “immersion” in Goethe is “precisely what is

needed” to understand Nietzsche.1 Although Kaufmann said that
Goethe “was not a philosopher”,2 he insisted that we take Goethe’s
thought, and especially his way of thinking, seriously. In one sense, it
is obviously true that Goethe was no philosopher. Goethe himself
acknowledged, “I had no organ for philosophy in the strict sense [Für
Philosophie im eigentlichen Sinne hatte ich kein Organ]”.3 What Goethe
lacked was an organ for abstraction. Even his thought, as we shall
shortly see, was predominantly visual. Goethe had little time for the
philosophical speculation, which he described as “injurious to the
Germans”, tending to promote a style that was “vague, difficult, and
obscure”.4
But Nietzsche did see Goethe as a philosopher in another, less strict
sense. In fact, Nietzsche compared Goethe favourably to the “one-sided”
modern philosophers and claimed that Goethe “stood well” amongst the
Pre-Socratics that he most admired.5 In this chapter, I begin to develop
an account of Goethe’s philosophical influence on Nietzsche. I pay

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-75007-7_2
14 A. Milne
particular attention to Goethe’s conception of the one and the many. In

subsequent chapters, I will argue that this conception proves crucial to
Nietzsche’s religious thought.
* * *
In English-language scholarship, there are a fair number of quality liter-

ary analyses of Goethe’s work, but few philosophers have given Goethe
serious attention. Where Goethe’s religious thought is considered, it is
common to view his work through the turbid media of his most unscru-
pulous exegetes, including Rudolf Steiner and Carl Jung.
The mature Goethe is sometimes presented as a kind of Daoist sage,
tranquil and detached.6 The comparison is stretched, but there is one
aspect of it that is right. Just as later Daoists claimed to base their super-
naturalist and alchemical speculations on the sceptical and down-to-earth
writings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, so Goethe’s proclaimed descendants
would found esoteric systems on the writings of a master who disdained
metaphysical speculation. Both Steiner and Jung turn Goethe into a
“mystic” in one sense: they read Goethe as esotericist. But, as will become
increasingly clear, “esoteric” is exactly the wrong word to use to describe
the tendency of Goethe’s thought generally, and his religious thought in
particular.
Even in Goethe’s work on a fringe topic like physiognomy, there is
nothing esoteric. Goethe gave anatomical instruction to Lavater to
assist his physiognomic research, but the two men could hardly have
been more different. For Goethe, his interest in physiognomy was
linked to his sense of the connection between inner and outer: our emo-
tions are revealed on our faces. Lavater, however, was convinced that
physiognomy could reveal the moral character of a person, and that it
would allow us to recognise Christ in his second coming. But Lavater’s
powers of observation were weak, and he was a perpetual dupe. For
example, Lavater was so taken by Cagliostro that he continued to insist
on the legitimacy of the holder of the Arcana Arcanorum’s powers even
after Cagliostro’s impostures were exposed.7 Lavater couldn’t read
Goethe’s face, either. Goethe told Lavater plainly that “I am not
un-Christian, nor anti-Christian, but am a committed non-Christian

[Ich bin kein Unchrist, kein Widerchrist, aber doch ein dezidierter
Nichtchrist]”. But Goethe’s tolerance was mistaken for susceptibility,
and more than a decade later still saw Goethe as a Nathanael, a sceptic
whose conversion would come. On the other hand, Goethe wrote in a
poem that Lavater wouldn’t need to keep vehemently repeating his
Christian mantra “thou art!” “thou art!” unless he was trying to con-
vince himself of this doubtful proposition.8 For Goethe, Lavater was a
good-hearted man, but subject to “enormous delusions” and a victim of
self-deception9 whose “weak mysticism [schwacher Mystizismus]” had
limited the flight of his genius.10
The interpretations of Steiner and Jung are still quite influential in
Goethe studies. Indeed, it is not uncommon for scholarly research on
Goethe to cite such sources more than Goethe’s own works.11 This may
be considered major obstacles to scholars operating outside of those cir-
cles. It is worth bearing in mind, however, that a similar situation once
prevailed with Nietzsche’s work, and it was a major achievement of schol-
ars like Kaufmann to wrest Nietzsche’s legacy from such hands. Steiner
and Jung were colossal windbags, and both could expound endlessly on
Goethe. I must, therefore, be selective if I am to show briefly just how
widely their readings miss the mark.
For Steiner, Faust reveals Goethe’s “esoteric world conception”. We
must look beneath the external appearances to find the “inner, spiritual
meaning”. Steiner tries to head off the criticism that it is “inadmissible to
turn living figures of artistic imagination into dry allegory” by saying he
will not quarrel people who think that way, for their eyes simply cannot
see that “totally different element which is perceptible to us”.12 Steiner
then quotes Goethe, telling Eckermann that Faust’s “higher significance
will not escape the initiate”.13 The remark needs some context. Eckermann
had just told Goethe he had concerns for the comprehensibility of the
second part of the work, given that it is so rich in historical references that
are made with a light touch. Goethe responded that people needn’t catch
these allusions to enjoy the work, but that certain readers will. The state-
ment, then, certainly does not indicate that there is some esoteric mean-
ing behind the work.
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Goethe did say that his works are “not written for the masses” but for
those whose tendencies and desires are similar to his own.14 Nietzsche,
too, saw himself as writing for the few. But of course, many are willing to
imagine their tendencies and desires as aligned with such men, and there
is no guarantee that those who count themselves among the elect have
any real affinity for the work.
Steiner wrote that Goethe stopped at the natural “lest he should lose
his hold upon reality”.15 This is quite right, though of course Steiner saw
this as a fault. Steiner saw himself as just the man to go on where Goethe
had halted. He certainly had no such inhibitions about losing touch with
reality, offering a “path of initiation” to “knowledge of higher worlds”.
But that the Augenmensch didn’t make eyes at the beyond is no shortcom-
ing. Far from fulfilling the promise of Goethe’s vision, Steiner represents
rather its basic betrayal.
In his autobiography, Goethe wrote that in his youth, he concocted his
own religion, a witches’ brew of Neoplatonism, hermeticism, mysticism,
and kabbalah.16 But Goethe’s mature thought is decidedly lacking in
speculation about unseen worlds, spiritual forces, and so on. In the his-
torical section of the Farbenlehre, Goethe presents alchemy as dishonest
and demeaning, and posits that it, like all other forms of superstition, is
believed in only because it flatters our hopes and desires. The image of
Goethe as occultist is fanciful. Indeed, a major aspect of Goethe’s
Weltanschauung can be summarised in his advice to “seek no secret initia-
tion / beneath the veil”. Nature is not hidden, but rather “man is star-
blind”. The treatment Goethe suggests for these cataracts is not some
kind of spiritual ‘second sight’, but to develop a capacity to remain with
sensory reality without looking beyond or behind it. Unlike Lavater,
Goethe never had an interest in Gassner’s “exorcism” or Mesmer’s “animal
magnetism”. When sent a book on related topics in 1820, Goethe
responded very politely that he had a natural aversion to any sort of prac-
tice that required him to close his eyes.17
Those who would move from alchemical or other occult imagery in
Goethe’s literature (particularly Faust) to some hidden occult meaning
behind the texts would do well to remember Goethe’s criticism of
Creuzer. In Symbolik und Mythologie der alten Völker, Creuzer had specu-
lated on the origins of religions and given a theory of myth and symbol.
These two aspects were closely intertwined. Creuzer was a Neoplatonist,

and he claimed the primacy of Indian religion, saying that it was from
this perfect monotheism that all other world religions had emanated and
degenerated. For Creuzer, we had to turn away from “the distractions of
the many”, getting beneath the particular to discover what is universal.
Goethe described Creuzer’s theory as a “dark-poetic-philosophical-
priestly error [dunkel-poetisch-philosophisch-pfäffischen Irrgang]”. In one
of the Xenien epigrams—which in one version is expressly addressed to
Creuzer—Goethe describes as “foolish” whoever searches after symbolic
meanings, describing them as “always searching in caves / and missing
the world’s riches”. None of this has stopped intellectual successors of
Creuzer from often being mistaken for Goethe’s heirs; and nor has it
stopped Goethe’s readers from crawling under his works and missing
their riches.
Goethe’s rejection of Creuzer has sometimes been misunderstood.
One recent scholar, Frederick Amine, claims that Goethe’s “public state-
ments” against Creuzer are misleading, and that “Goethe’s recorded pro-
nouncements on his own works and others’ are not the last or best word
on the subject”. As evidence for this, Amrine points out that Goethe’s
explicit rejection of alchemy in the Farbenlehre “did not hinder him in
the slightest from suffusing Faust with alchemical imagery”.18 But there
is no tension here. The themes in Faust no more reveal Goethe as alche-
mist than the themes of The Merchant of Venice reveal Shakespeare
as usurer.
Amrine claims that Goethe’s criticisms of Creuzer are “belied” by his
“later artistic practice”, but this simply isn’t so. Goethe continued to criti-
cise Creuzer, including in Faust II. Unfortunately, Amrine misinterprets
scenes with mocking references as acknowledgements of the Symbolist’s
influence. For example, following Creuzer’s claim that the Cabiri were
originally worshiped in earthenware forms,19 they are represented in Faust
as misshapen clay pots. When the Homunculus seems surprised that
‘wise’ men would butt their thick skulls over these old things, Thales
responds that it is rust that makes the coin valuable, and Proteus con-
cludes that this view is bizarre therefore respectable. But Goethe was far
more explicitly critical of Creuzer in a discarded scene in which Mephisto
speaks of the myth of Euphorion, and says that some believe it should not
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be straightforwardly interpreted. These men think that “there is some-

thing behind it [dahinter stecke was]”: they can “smell mysteries”, perhaps
even Indian and Egyptian mystifications. Mephisto says that to brew up
such concoctions and engage in an etymological dance is the mark of the
right man, and declares himself a “loyal disciple of the new Symbolism”.20
The passage is typically mocking, and one might think this would be
plain to any attentive reader. But an exegetical thinker can always cite the
devil to his purpose, and this is exactly what Steiner does. Quoting this
passage, Steiner says that “it is expressly pronounced that someone who
understands Faust in the sense of Goethe also sees something deeper hid-
den behind it”21 Steiner looks behind Goethe’s works for a mirror in
which he could find his own views reflected. As we shall shortly see, Jung’s
approach was much the same, though his readings are perhaps even more
incredible.
Goethe did not hope his works would be decrypted by some future
generation. In fact, he mocked his contemporaries’ attempts to do so.
Goethe told Eckermann that Faust is “incommensurable” and said all
attempts to make it comprehensible to reason were in vain. But he saw
that the work’s “darkness” makes it appeal to certain readers, who would
tire themselves out on its insoluble problems.22 To Falk, Goethe joked
about those who had spent 30 years trying to make sense of the broom-
sticks of the Walpurgis Night and the monkeys’ conversation in the
witch’s kitchen. These exegetes’ attempts at “interpreting and allegoris-
ing” all of the “dramatic humorous nonsense [dramatisch-humoristischen
Unsinns]” had come to nothing. Those who cannot delight in play will
sniff about behind it for profundities. Jung was one such behind-sniffer.
In a response to a questionnaire about Goethe’s influence, Jung wrote,
“the only thing of Goethe’s that is alive for me is Faust”. For Jung, Faust
was not a work to be enjoyed, but rather it was “a study [ein Studium]”
over which one must labour because it is so “cryptic [hintergründig]”.
Jung claimed Faust to be “the most recent pillar in that bridge of the
spirit” that spans from the Upanishads to Eckhart, and said that one can-
not meditate on the work enough, particularly on the “mysteries” of part
II.23 Jung made rather a lot of these mysteries. For example, in an essay
on his “psychological approach to the Trinity”, Jung cites the same scene
from Faust II mentioned above, where the Nereids and Tritons return
from Samothrace with three of the Cabiri in a turtle shell, saying that
“the fourth refused to come, / he said he was the best / who thinks for all
the rest”. Goethe’s satirising of numerology in this and other scenes is
taken in Jung’s unhinged analysis as evidence that Goethe had an “intui-
tive grasp” of some profound mystery.24
In a letter to Lavater, Goethe said that if one needs to find divinity in
the Bible, then, as “a very worldly man [ein sehr irdischer Mensch]”, para-
bles such as the unjust steward and the prodigal son seemed to him “more
divine” than the Revelations blather about the “seven golden candlesticks,
trumpets, seals, stars, and woes”.25 Against the arcane significance of all of
these sevens, Goethe declares to stand firm to the “truth of my five senses”.
The witch’s arithmetical nonsense in Faust mocked just this kind of
numerology: five and six make seven and eight, “and nine is one / and ten
is none”.26 There was no meaning behind any of it, but try telling that to
his esoteric followers. Jung invests so much significance in Goethe’s 4s
and 7s and 8s as to constitute a kind of exegetical alchemy, transmuting
poetic logic and playful nonsense into grimness and sheer irrationality.
In his autobiography, Jung says. “I regard my work on alchemy as a
sign of my inner relationship to Goethe”.27 Jung claimed that Goethe’s
“whole life was enacted within the framework” of the Faust drama and
that Goethe was in the grip of a “suprapersonal process”. Jung then
immediately goes on to say that “my entire life has been permeated and
held together by one idea and one goal: namely, to penetrate into the
secret of the personality. Everything can be explained from this central
point, and all my works relate to this one theme”. Presumably, his “inner
relationship” to Goethe enables him to explain Goethe’s life and work by
reference to this theme, too. But somehow, despite this ‘inner relation-
ship’, Jung consistently shows an amazing insensitivity to Goethe.
Jung’s interpretation hits its high point in a letter in which he writes
behind the character of Gretchen “stands the Gnostic sequence: Helen-
Mary-Sophia”. Here, Jung claims, “Goethe divines the fact that uncon-
scious, undifferentiated functions are contaminated with the collective
unconscious, with the result that they can be realized only in part ratio-
nally”28 Jung goes on to say that the rest of Faust II is “closely connected
with Goethe’s alchemical knowledge, which no one should underesti-
mate”. This claim is not made any more plausible by the fact that Jung,
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following Herbert Silberer, gives a psychological interpretation of

alchemy. Alchemy was Jung’s obsession, and it is plain that he vastly over-
estimated Goethe’s interest. Jung’s habit was to “think for all the rest” and
find his own ideas everywhere confessed.
Jung contrasted himself with Steiner, declaring that unlike the latter, “I
am not interested at all in what can be speculated about without any
proof ”. But this is simply the goose honking about the duck’s quackery.
Both men had scientific pretensions, and both made a virtue of dropping
their guard against the possibilities of self-deception.
It is not just that these interpretations of Goethe are far from defini-
tive, but that in the case of both men, deafness to irony is combined with
an exegetical method that transmutes everything foreign into more of the
same. It is understandable that Nietzsche scholars have largely avoided
wading into such waters. But it is a mistake to think that one needs to in
order to understand Goethe’s thought. Just as most scholars feel that they
need not read Nietzsche through Heidegger, let alone Jung or Steiner, we
should feel quite free to approach Goethe directly. It is just this that I
propose to do.
* * *
One final word before we move on. Given what I have said in the intro-
duction about ‘mediators’, I would like to make it very clear that it is not
my intention to mediate between Goethe and Nietzsche. These two men
were very different in many ways. Goethe was a poet, a naturalist, a lover
of women, music, food, wine, and wit. Nietzsche, on the other hand, was
a talented improviser and a much more accomplished poet than English
speakers tend to realise. It is undeniable, however, that while Nietzsche
had the full measure of Goethe’s wit, he had hardly a whit of Goethe’s
“worldliness”. Goethe thought that whoever spurned drinking wine and
making love was “as good as dead”.29 But alcohol didn’t agree with
Nietzsche, and he had no significant sexual relationships. Nietzsche’s
health was always frail, and he was eternally seeking comfortable external
circumstances. His eyesight was weak, and his world was not predomi-
nantly visual but conceptual: he found abstract thought “a festival”.30 But
Nietzsche knew himself to be a decadent and, constantly wary of self-

deception, did not allow himself to resent health. Unlike those who
would simply appropriate Goethe as a champion of their own worldview,
Nietzsche found in Goethe a constant goad towards a “fuller” life.31
* * *
That Goethe was no mystagogue does not mean his views are easily stated.
The difficulty is not only that he never develops them systematically, but
also that they are highly original, and thus easily misinterpreted. This is
particularly the case with Goethe’s conception of the relationship of the
one and the many, to which we now turn.
In The Problem of Knowledge, Cassirer writes that Goethe’s writings
reveal a conception of the universal and the particular that “can hardly be
found elsewhere in the history of philosophy or of natural science”.32
Cassirer warns that Goethe’s radically original conception is bound to be
misunderstood when cast in terms of familiar philosophical positions,
such as the contrast between nominalism and realism. Cassirer describes
Goethe’s conception as one in which the universal and particular are “not
only intimately connected” but “interpenetrate” each other. Cassirer
makes clear that there is “no question which of the two is of greater value,
or whether one is superior or subordinate to the other”. Rather, “a per-
fectly reciprocal determination holds.”
In Goethe’s thought, this relationship between the universal and par-
ticular is equivalent to that of the one to the many, and of the whole to
the part. Cassirer points out that this relationship is “not one of logical
subsumption”, but rather of “symbolic representation”. To help us to
bring this conception into focus, I will begin by briefly examining the
nature of the symbol in Goethe’s poetry.
In the second part of Zarathustra, we read “everything permanent—
that is only a parable [Alles Unvergängliche — das ist nur ein Gleichniss!]”.
This is of course an inversion of the beginning of the chorus which con-
cludes Faust: “Everything impermanent/ is only a parable [Alles
Vergängliche / ist nur ein Gleichnis]”. Nietzsche often played with these
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famous lines.33 In the “Blessed Isles” of Zarathustra, they are used to dem-
onstrate his preference for becoming over being. The section reads:
Evil I call it, and misanthropic—all this teaching about the One and the
Plenum and the Unmoved and the Sated and the Permanent. All perma-
nence—that is mere parable! And the poets lie too much. It is of time and
becoming that the best parables should speak: let them be a praise and a
justification of all impermanence.
Whether Goethe was lying and taking sides with being over becoming
depends on how we understand Gleichnis, a term which English transla-
tors have variously rendered ‘allegory’, ‘metaphor’, ‘parable’, ‘simile’, and
‘symbol’.
Discussing differences between Schiller’s approach to poetry and his
own, Goethe writes, “there is a great difference whether a poet looks for
the particular that goes with the universal, or sees the universal in the
particular”. The first approach gives rise to allegory, where the particular
only functions as an “example” or “illustration” of the universal. The sec-
ond approach, which constitutes the real “nature of poetry”, expresses
something particular “without any thought of the universal”, and with-
out “pointing” to it. He concludes that whenever one has a “living grasp”
of the particular, without realising it, one is “at the same time in posses-
sion of the universal”.34
Elsewhere Goethe makes a similar point by contrasting the allegorical
with the symbolic. Allegory transforms a percept into a “concept [Begriff]”,
and the concept into an “image [Bild]”. Symbolism transforms a phe-
nomenon into an “idea [Idee]”, and the idea into an image. It does this in
such a way that the idea remains “unattainable” and “inexpressible”.35
In the case of allegory, then, the universal is seen through the particular
whereas, in the case of symbolism, the universal is seen in the particular.
In allegory, the particular is instrumental: it is to be looked past to the
concept which it points. In symbolism, the particular is looked into at
the inexpressible idea that it contains.36
This distinction between allegory and symbol could be important in
understanding the Chorus Mysticus37: “Alles Vergängliche / Ist nur ein
Gleichnis; / Das Unzulängliche, / Hier wird’s Ereignis; / Das Unbeschreibliche, /
Hier ist’s getan; / Das Ewig-Weibliche / Zieht uns hinan”. The term Gleichnis
can be read either as allegory / simile or as symbol / metaphor. If it is
allegorical, then it is conceptual and points away from the particular to
the universal. If it is symbolic, then it does not point to the universal but
contains the universal inside the particular. It seems that the latter is what
is meant, for where the concept pointed to by an allegory is “circum-
scribed”, “reachable”, and “expressible”; the symbolic is transformed into
an idea that captures what is “unreachable” and “inexpressible”. And this
is just what follows, with the symbol making fully apparent “the insuffi-
cient [das Unzulängliche]”, and of doing “the indescribable [das
Unbeschreibliche]”.
Goethe conceived of the part as symbolic of the whole, and the many
as symbolic of the one. But what is the nature of this symbolism? It is not
the representation of a type, which would be to confuse Goethe with the
Platonic conception of the individual as an imperfect representation of
an ideal form. For Goethe, contrary to Plato, variation is basic—his
thought is essentially morphological. Moreover, the whole does not exist
apart from the parts, or the one apart from the many.38 “If the whole is
ever to gladden thee, / That whole in the smallest thing thou must see
[Willst du dich am Ganzen erquicken, / So mußt du das Ganze im Kleinsten
erblicken]”.39 This couplet, in Bowring’s fine translation, neatly describes
Goethe’s conception.
In the historical part of The Theory of Colours,40 Goethe claims that
some particulars are more effective symbols of the universal than others
are. I read this not as denying that each part contains the whole, but as
asserting that not all parts reveal it as clearly. This was a part of Goethe’s
criticism of Bacon’s inductive methodology, where each individual case is
considered of equal value. For Goethe, “one case is often worth thou-
sands” and “encloses all inside itself ”. These cases are the Urphänomene,
which Goethe describes elsewhere as “symbolic” because they “include all
instances”.41
In true symbolism, Goethe writes, “the particular represents the uni-
versal… as a live and immediate revelation of the unfathomable”.42 On
this view, the symbol does not point away from itself to something else,
but rather that the particular reveals itself as the universal. As Goethe
writes, “the universal and particular coincide: the particular is the
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universal manifesting under different conditions [Das Allgemeine und

Besondere fallen zusammen: Das Besondere ist das Allgemeine, unter ver-
schiedenen Bedingungen erscheinend]”.43
Goethe’s conception of the one and the many is given perhaps its clear-
est and most thorough treatment in a cycle of poems titled Gott und Welt.
The poems explore not only the relationship of God to World, but equally
that of one to many, and whole to part.
Before I go on to pull at the threads of these poems, I should like to
make plain some reservations I have about my tin-eared approach here. I
don’t think that yanking propositions from poems is a model of exegetical
sanity. A poem is not pure context, but it is close enough. This criticism
is not avoided by the observation that Goethe’s poems are often didactic.
They are still poems. Nor is the criticism avoided by the fact that the
poems in the Gott und Welt cycle are very short, and so lines do not need
to be wrested from a much broader context. To quote from a poem is
always to quote out of context. A poem is a self-contained thing, and
there is certainly more than a touch of barbarism in treating it as if it
weren’t.
I must be up front in acknowledging that my interest here (and
throughout) is not with poetry as such. My concern is with prosaic trans-
lation. It is a concern that misses the point that meaning in poetry arises
under formal pressure, and that a poem done into prose is a poem done
out of existence. But to translate a poem as poem is to enter into those
formal pressures oneself, and what emerges from the process is something
that is familiar yet new. Frost’s famous definition of poetry as “that which
is lost… in translation”44 tells an uncomfortable truth. There are plainly
better and worse translations, but equivalence is an impossibility. It is
foolish to hope that the full measure of sense can survive translation,
when the sense of a poem has the relationship to its expression as that of
mind to body.
The individual poems in the Gott und Welt cycle are not only complete
worlds, but also express complete world-views, and it is with the latter
that I am interested here. Nietzsche didn’t have much to say about trans-
lation, but claimed to admire it when its theft was perpetrated with the
best conscience.45 I do not feel so easy about the smash-and-grab which
follows, and can only hope that the crime pays.
In a monograph study of the Gott und Welt cycle, Sachers compares the
ideas expressed by Goethe to those of Leibniz, Spinoza, and others.
Sachers discerns a kind of “philosophical indecisiveness” in Goethe’s
views, and speaks of him as “awkwardly poised” between other thinkers’
positions.46 There are two responses to such an interpretation. The first is
to agree that Goethe offers no coherent account, and the second is to
argue that Goethe’s ‘idiosyncrasy’ with respect to his philosophical prede-
cessors’ was his intention, and that the poems are expressing an unfamil-
iar conception. I think both responses are to some degree right.
That Goethe doesn’t commit himself to a single fixed conception is a
part of what makes it easy to overlook his influence on Nietzsche and
others. But often it is just this wariness of conceptual ossification that was
influential. Goethe once wrote to Jacobi that given the “manifold tenden-
cies” of his character, a single way of thinking couldn’t suffice: “as a poet
and artist, I’m a polytheist, as a natural scientist, however, a pantheist,
and I’m the one as decisively as the other”47 Goethe recommended hold-
ing conceptions with a loose grip lest we become ensnared in our own
“inadequate theoretical pronouncements”.48 This allowed him to see
from many perspectives—or in Nietzsche’s phrase, with “many eyes”.
The Gott und Welt poems were written over a period of decades, though
most were fairly late. Given the plurality of perspectives represented in
the cycle, it might seem that no consistent view can be drawn out. This
seems especially true given the way the cycle was amended posthumously,
where the lines of “Eins und Alles” are seen as in a mirror in the added
poem “Vermächtnis”. While the former concludes “The eternal goes
forth in all / And all to nothing must fall / If in being it would persist
[Das Ewige regt sich fort in allen, / Denn alles muss in Nichts zerfallen, /
Wenn es im Sein beharren will]”, the latter begins “No being to nothing
can fall / The eternal goes forth in all [Kein Wesen kann zu Nichts zerfallen!
/ Das Ew’ge regt sich fort in allen]”.
Eckermann, who was responsible for the posthumous inclusion of
“Vermächtnis” in the cycle, reports a conversation in which Goethe says
that he wrote this poem in order to contradict the “stupid [dumm]” final
lines of “Eins und Alles”, after his irritation at these lines being set up in
gold letters by a group of his naturalist friends in Berlin.49 This need to
stress contrary views is not uncommon in Goethe’s work, and we should
26 A. Milne
not therefore expect to find that a single, definitive expression of Goethe’s

Gott- und Weltanschauung. Having said this, Goethe’s position is hardly
one of simple incoherence, and more attention to the poems in the this
cycle will help us to understand what holds these perspectives together.
In “Epirrhema”, we read, “Nothing living is one / it’s always many
[Kein Lebendiges ist ein Eins, / Immer ist’s ein Vieles]”. German grammar
should not confuse us into thinking that this is a denial of a whole, which
we might call a “One” as opposed to a “one”. Rather, the claim is that
what is “One” is never “a one [ein Eins]”, but is always “a multiplicity [ein
Vieles]”. The same view is expressed in Goethe’s scientific writings, includ-
ing in On Morphology where we read that “no living thing is unitary in
nature; every such thing is a plurality. Even the organism which appears
to us as individual exists as a collection of independent living entities”.50
Nietzsche would later develop a similar view, claiming that “all unity is
unity only as organisation and cooperation”,51 and that what is “simple”
is imaginary: “whatever is real… is neither one nor even reducible
to one”.52
Still in “Epirrhema”, we read that in nature, “nothing is inside, noth-
ing is outside / because what is inner, that is outer [Nichts ist drinnen,
nichts ist draußen; / Denn was innen, dass ist außen]”. This understanding
of the relationship of inner and outer means that we need not unveil
nature to get at the “truth”, but rather we should rejoice in “the true
appearance [des wahren Schein]”, for nature is an “open secret [öffentlich
Geheimnis]”.53
A similar view is developed in the poem Allerdings, where Goethe criti-
cises the “philistine” claim, made originally in a poem by the Swiss natu-
ralist Haller, that no creature’s spirit can enter into the heart of nature.
On the contrary, Goethe says that “we’re on the inside [Sind wir im
Inner]” at every place. This is because “nature has neither core / nor shell
/ she is all at once [Natur hat weder Kern / Noch Schale; / Alles ist sie mit
einem Male]”. We could say that the inner is “seen in” the outer, but we
should not imagine that this means the outer is a reflection of the inner.
The connection is more intimate, for the inner is not independent of the
latter and only manifest or revealed in it.
For the Neoplatonists, the one has ontological priority over the many:
the whole is independent of the parts, but may be reflected in them. This
can, for example, be seen in several of Michelangelo’s poems, which

express the sentiment that there is often no better stair for the soul’s eleva-
tion than to let the eye wander over beautiful things, and where the
earthly desires there inflamed are a means of rising above all earthly
things.54 But explicitly Goethe rejected the Neoplatonic view.55 Goethe’s
conception of the symbolic is not ‘transparency to transcendence’—not,
that is, seeing through to something else.56 In “Parabasis”, we read of “the
eternal one / that is multiply manifest [das ewig Eine, / Das sich vielfach
offenbart]”. This suggests that there is not an ontologically prior one that
manifests as the many, but rather the “perfectly reciprocal determinism”
that Cassirer mentioned—the whole does not exist apart from the parts.
* * *
To understand what it means to claim that the whole is in the parts, it

may help to shift our attention from Gott und Welt to Goethe’s studies of
animal and plant morphology.57
Goethe’s should not be taken as saying that the whole is to be found by
piecing together the parts. This is a common misunderstanding, made by
one recent scholar in contrasting Goethe’s anatomical ideas from those of
Richard Owen. While Owen sought a “least common denominator”, and
thus described “the vertebrate archetype as essentially a string of verte-
brae”, Goethe, it is claimed, sought an “an inclusive form, a pattern that
would contain all of the parts”. It is true that Goethe did not conceive of
the archetype as a common denominator, but it is a mistake to think of it
as an amalgam of particulars. A similar error is made by scholars who
move from Nietzsche’s claim that to see with “more eyes” is to see more
objectively to the conclusion that, for Nietzsche, “truth” is the amalgam
of individual perspectives. This is reading is understandable, but it is not
Nietzsche’s view. On the contrary, Nietzsche saw that “sum” of perspec-
tives is “in every case quite incongruent”.58
So how are we to understand Goethe’s view? In Italienische Reise,
Goethe describes “the organ of the plant we usually call the ‘leaf ’” as a
“true Proteus” which hides and reveals itself in all plant forms: from
beginning to end, “the plant is always just leaf [die Pflanze immer nur
28 A. Milne
Blatt]”. In Versuch die Metamorphose der Pflanzen zu erklären, Goethe

wrote that there is a “secret relationship [geheime Verwandtschaft]”
amongst the external parts of the plant. He argued that the plant’s differ-
ent organs—sepals, petals, pistils, stamens—were all “modifications of a
single organ”, the leaf. For Goethe, the leaf is symbolic of the plant. The
whole plant is revealed in it. The plant is not the aggregate of its leaves,
but nor is the plant is not something apart from its organs, its ‘leaves’.
This “secret relationship” is an open secret. Here the nature of the plant is
to be understood by observing its development. While each leaf contains
the whole plant, some reveal the whole more clearly. Thus, to understand
plant morphology, Goethe looked for those exemplary cases “worth thou-
sand”, his Urphänomene. This is why, in The Metamorphosis of Plants,
Goethe pays particular attention to phenomena such as double flowers,
where the order of growth can be seen to reverse.
To look behind or beyond these Urphänomene is, for Goethe, a mis-
take. In a well-known conversation with Eckermann, Goethe says that
“astonishment [Erstaunen]” is the highest state man can attain; man
should be satisfied at the sight of the archetypal phenomenon and “he
should not seek anything further behind it [ein Weiteres soll er nicht
dahinter suchen]”. But we generally do keep seeking, and in doing so we
behave “like children who, seeing an image in a mirror, turn it over to see
what’s behind it”. Once more, it is a mistake to think that reality is hid-
den behind appearances. If we are to perceive the whole, we must look
into the parts, not behind them.
One might suspect that these morphological studies have little bearing
on Goethe’s religious thought. But for Goethe, the naturalistic and the
religious were not separate spheres. Thus on believing that he had discov-
ered the intermaxillary bone in the human upper jaw, Goethe claimed
he’d demonstrated that humans belong to the whole as “a hue of a great
harmony”.59 A couple of years later, Goethe writes that his botanical
studies have “revealed a έν και παν”.60 Goethe is reflecting on his reading
of Gott: Einige Gesprache, Herder’s interpretation of Spinoza.61 Goethe’s
claims that the leaf is the “true Proteus” and that the plant is “nothing but
leaf ” are intimately connected to the broader sense of hen kai pan.62
Indeed, Goethe believed that natural philosophy was a better way to
study God than entering into the conceptual cobweb spinning of
theological or metaphysical speculation. Thus, in a famous letter to

Jacobi, Goethe writes that he must be forgiven for “wanting to fall silent”
on the topic of a divine being, which he knows “only in singular things”.
Goethe’s letter ends: “Here I am in the mountains, seeking the divine in
herbs and stones”.63
In an essay published in his journal On Morphology, Goethe criticises
the abstraction from what is pliable to a “coherent whole” that is “deter-
mined, completed, and fixed” in character. If we consider organic wholes,
Goethe writes, we do not find these characteristics anywhere: “on the
contrary, everything fluctuates in constant motion”. Cassirer aptly
described Goethe’s thought is “dynamical throughout”. Here we see that
the whole is not something that stands behind the parts, but is itself
becoming. If such a view seems hard to “grasp”, we should remember that
Goethe actively resisted rigid conceptual formulation. In this same essay,
Goethe warned that if we wish to understand nature, we must remain
“agile and malleable” as nature herself.
* * *
Even if we keep in mind Cassirer’s warnings about the originality of

Goethe’s view, this exposition is likely to remind us of a common inter-
pretation of Heraclitus. It is to Nietzsche’s reading of Heraclitus, on
which “the one is the many [das Eine ist das Viele]”,64 that we will turn next.
Notes
1. W. Kaufmann, Goethe, Kant, and Hegel, op. cit., p. 51.
2. Ibid, p. 25.
3. “Einwirkung der neueren Philosophie”, 1817. A translation can be of this
essay, “The Influence of Modern Philosophy”, can be found in The
Essential Goethe, ed. M. Bell, Princeton University Press, 2016.
4. CWG, Apr. 14, 1824. Goethe argues here that Schiller’s style was “most
noble and impressive whenever he leaves of philosophising”. C.f. CWG,
Nov. 14, 1823, where Goethe also speaks of the pernicious influence of
philosophy on Schiller: “it was sad to see how so highly gifted a man
30 A. Milne
tormented himself with philosophical disquisitions which could in no

way profit him”.
5. NF-1884,26[3].
6. For example, see M. Bazzano, Buddha is Dead: Nietzsche and the Dawn
of European Zen, Sussex Academic Press, 2006, §2, pp. 6–7.
7. CWG, Feb. 17, 1829.
8. “Du bist! du bist! sagt Lavater. Du bist! / Du bist! Du bist! Du bist, Herr
Jesus Christ! / Er wiederholte nicht so heftig Wort und Lehre, / wenn es
ganz just mit dieser Sache wäre”.
9. CWG, Feb. 17, 1829.
10. CWG, Jan. 18, 1830 (Soret supplement).
11. See for example Henri Bortoft, The Wholeness of Nature, Lindisfarne
Books, 1996 and Taking Appearances Seriously, Floris Books, 2012.
Bortoft was one of the better writers on Goethe and science, yet he cites
Steiner’s works on Goethe far more often than he cites Goethe directly.
Bortoft might be right that the “esoteric enterprise” of Anthroposophy
has had “the effect of taking attention away from other aspects of
[Steiner’s] work” including his apparently “luminous” contribution to
our knowledge of Goethe, but this doesn’t excuse neglect of the pri-
mary texts.
12. R. Steiner, Goethe’s Standard of the Soul, trans. D.S. Osmond,
Anthroposophic Press, 1925. In the original, Kap. I of Goethes Geistesart.
13. CWG, Jan. 29, 1827.
14. CWG, Oct. 11, 1828.
15. R. Steiner, The Story of My Life, trans. H. Collison, Anthroposophical
Publishing Co., 1928. In the original, Kap. XVIII of Mein Lebensgang.
16. D&W, book 8.
17. Letter to Nees von Esenbeck, July 23, 1820.
18. F. Amrine, “Goethe as Mystagogue”, Goethe Yearbook, vol. 23,
2016, p. 23.
19. Some of these references and criticisms have been long acknowledged,
for example by Bayard Taylor in his 1870s translation of Faust.
20. This paraliopomenon is numbered 196 in the Berliner Ausgabe.
21. R. Steiner, in a 1909 lecture titled “Riddles in Goethe’s Faust: Esoteric”.
The original can be found in R. Steiner, Die Rätsel in Goethes “Faust”,
exoterisch und esoterisch: 2 Vorträge, Verlag, 1981.
22. CWG, Jan. 3, 1830. C.f. Feb. 13, 1831 where Goethe acknowledges
inconsistencies in Faust and repeats the claim about the work being
incommensurable as a whole.
23. C.G. Jung, Letters, Vol. I: 1906–1950, ed. G. Adler and A. Jaffé, trans.
R.F.C. Hull, Routledge, 2015, p. 88ff.
24. Jung expands on these claims later in the same text, saying that the
fourth is Goethe’s “thinking function” and that the poet had character-
ised it perfectly in saying it would not come. “Exactly!”, declares Jung,
the thinking function “wanted for some reason to stay behind or below”.
For more of the same, see Psychology and Alchemy. Nietzsche admired the
Venetian Epigram in which Goethe wrote of the four things he finds as
objectionable as snakes and poison: tobacco smoke, bedbugs, garlic, and
the crucifix (VE LXVI). One can imagine a Jung-inspired reading:
Goethe plainly points to the mystery of the second coming. The fourth
is the cross, and the fourth won’t come. So Goethe is saying that Christ
won’t return. For some reason he wanted to stay behind or below… I
think of Goethe’s mockery of the spiritual readings of the Song of
Songs—and what, good lord, would these exegetes make of Goethe’s
Song of Schlongs (VE CXLI)? (Lift your Schwanz, man—I smell a mys-
tery behind!). On mystical interpretations of the hohe Lied, see Goethe’s
letter to Zelter of Jan. 29, 1830. In his youth, Goethe translated the
Song of Solomon, which he interpreted straightforwardly as a superb
“collection of love songs”: see his letter to Merck, Oct. 1775.
25. Letter to Lavater, Oct. 28, 1779.
26. GF, pp. 250–253.
27. C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ed. A Jaffé, trans. R. Winston
and C. Winston, Fontana Press, 1995, p. 232.
28. C.G. Jung, Letters, Vol. I: 1906–1950, op. cit., p. 265.
29. See Goethe’s libretto for “Jery und Bätely”: “A girl and a glass of wine /
cures all want; / and whoever doesn’t drink and doesn’t kiss / is as good
as dead [Ein Mädchen und ein Gläschen Wein / kurieren alle Not; / und wer
nicht trinkt, und wer nicht küßt, / der ist so gut wie todt]”.
30. NF-1885,34[130]: “abstract thought, while a hardship for many, is for
me, on good days, festival and intoxication”.
31. NF-1884,26[3].
32. E. Cassirer, The Problem of Knowledge, trans. W. Woglom and C. Hendel,
Yale University Press, 1950, pp. 144–146.
32 A. Milne
33. See also Z “On Poets”, pp. 126–129, and also “To Goethe” in the Lieder
added to the second edition of GS, pp. 350–351.
34. M&R§279, pp. 33–34.
35. M&R§§1112–1113, p. 141.
36. For an influential treatment of this distinction, see: T. Todorov, Theories
of the Symbol, trans. C Porter, Oxford, 1982, esp. pp. 206–207.
37. It might reasonably be argued that Faust is not consistent with Goethe’s
own views on the nature of symbolism and so on. It certainly need not.
One might think, for example, the fact that in this passage, Faust’s
“entelechy” or “eternal part” has just been separated from his body, sug-
gests something contrary to Goethe’s ordinary monistic conception. But
in fact, Goethe did believe in an indestructible entelechy (CWG, Sep. 1,
1829; c.f. Mar. 3, 1830), as we shall see in our discussion of
Empedocles below.
38. It should also be clear that this is not a “nominalist” denial of the exis-
tence of the whole (universal) or a reduction of the whole to the parts.
39. J.W. Goethe, The Poems of Goethe: Translated in the Original Metres,
trans. E.A. Bowring et al., S.E. Cassino, 1882, p. 254.
40. The historical and polemical parts are both omitted from Eastlake’s
English translation, which includes only the didactic part. See
J.W. Goethe, Theory of Colours, trans. C.L. Eastlake, John Murray
Publishers, 1840, p. xiv.
41. This is in the fragments toward Maximen und Reflexionen: the
Ur-phenomenon is “symbolisch, weil es alle Fälle begreift, identisch mit
allen Fällen”.
42. M&R§314, p. 37 [TM].
43. M&R§569, p. 76 [TM].
44. R. Frost, “Conversations on the Craft of Poetry”, in Collected Poems,
Prose, & Plays, ed. R. Poirier and M. Richardson, Library of America,
1995, p. 856.
45. GS§83, pp. 137–138.
46. Sachers makes these remarks specifically about Eins und Alles: R. Sachers,
Goethe’s Poetry and the Philosophy of Nature: Gott und Welt 1798–1827,
Legenda, 2015, p. 87. But in her study of the legacy of this poem,
Sachers speaks of the “the poem’s idiosyncrasy as well as its inconsistency
with regard to its philosophical predecessors”. See: R. Sachers, “Goethe’s
Legacy? ‘Eins Und Alles’ and its Career in Scholarship”, German Life and
Letters, vol. 61, no. 2, 2008, p. 189.
47. Jan. 6, 1813. C.f. “Wir sind naturforschend Pantheisten, dichtend

Polytheisten, sittlich Monotheisten”.
48. M&R§578, pp. 125–126.
49. CWG, Feb. 12, 1829.
50. SS, p. 64.
51. NF-1885,2[87] (WP§561, p. 303).
52. NF-1888,15[118] (WP§536, p. 291).
53. Hadot has written admirably of Goethe and this ‘open secret’. See:
P. Hadot, The Veil of Isis: An Essay on the History of the Idea of Nature,
trans. M. Chase, Harvard University Press, 2006; esp. chap. 9 “Isis Has
No Veils”, pp. 247–261.
54. See for example Saslow’s translations of sonnet 107 in Michelangelo, The
Poetry of Michelangelo, trans. J.M. Saslow, Yale University Press, 1991,
p. 239. C.f. the excerpt of sonnet 260 on p. 31. See also Saslow’s discus-
sion of this theme in Michelangelo in p. 30ff.
55. See the sections of Wilhelm Meisters Wanderjahre given in M&R as
§§642–643, p. 86.
56. C.f. Goethe, in a letter to Schubarth (Apr. 2, 1818): “everything that
happens is a symbol, and as it represents itself perfectly, it points to the
rest [Alles was geschieht ist Symbol, und, indem es vollkommen sich selbst
darstellt, deutet es auf das Uebrige]”.
57. In what follows, I will give only examples drawn directly from Goethe’s
work. But there are many other images that can be used to make sense of
Goethe’s conception of the one and the many. Bortoft has made good
use of examples including the duck / rabbit image (where the whole is
not duck+rabbit, but is in each of the aspects) and transmission holo-
grams (where the whole can be seen in each fractured part). See:
H. Bortoft, “Goethe and the Dynamic Unity of Nature”, in Taking
Appearances Seriously, op. cit., pp. 108–157.
58. NF-1888,14[93] (WP§568, p. 306).
59. Letter to Knebel, Nov. 17, 1784.
60. Italienische Reise, Sep. 6, 1787.
61. Herder drew a distinction between Lessing’s ideas and Indian concep-
tions of unity, claiming that neither Spinoza nor Lessing believed in a
“phantastisch-rohe sinnliche All-Einheit”. Jacobi quoted Lessing as having
said: “Hen kai pan! Ich weiß nichts anders” Lessing supposedly said this
directly upon being read Goethe’s 1773 poem “Prometheus”. But in this
early poem of Goethe’s it is—to put the point charitably—hard to find
such a unitive conception.
34 A. Milne
62. Goethe’s poem “Eins und Alles”, which I have discussed above, was writ-
ten decades later—the title is, of course, a direct translation of the phrase
“hen kai pan”.
63. Letter to Jacobi, June 9, 1785.
64. PTAG§6, p. 57.
Bibliography
Amrine, F., “Goethe as Mystagogue”, Goethe Yearbook, vol. 23, 2016, pp. 19–39.
Cassirer, E., The Problem of Knowledge, trans. W. Woglom and C. Hendel, Yale
Jung, C.G., Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ed. A Jaffé, trans. R. Winston and
C. Winston, Fontana Press, 1995.
———, Letters, Vol. I: 1906–1950, ed. G. Adler and A. Jaffé, trans. R.F.C. Hull,
Routledge, 2015.
Kaufmann, W., Goethe, Kant, and Hegel: Discovering the Mind, Vol. I, Transaction
Publishers, 1991.
Sachers, R., “Goethe’s Legacy? ‘Eins Und Alles’ and its Career in Scholarship”,
German Life and Letters, vol. 61, no. 2, 2008, pp. 187–201.
———, Goethe’s Poetry and the Philosophy of Nature: Gott und Welt 1798–1827,
Routledge, 2015.
Steiner, R., Goethe’s Standard of the Soul, trans. D.S. Osmond, Anthroposophic
Press, 1925.
———, The Story of My Life, trans. H. Collison, Anthroposophical Publishing
Co., 1928.
3
Ancestors, Part II
In Chap. 2, I began to develop an account of Goethe’s conception of the

one and the many. In this chapter, I will offer brief expositions of
Nietzsche’s engagement with each of his other ‘ancestors’—Heraclitus,
Empedocles, and Spinoza. Each ancestor proves not only monistic but
also mystical—affirming a sense in which all things are one. But these
senses are not all one, and in each case, I will bring out contrasts with
Goethe’s view. In subsequent chapters, I will show how Nietzsche
developed this Goethean conception in his writings about part and whole
in seemingly disparate areas, including his conception of fatalism and his
defence of egoism.
Heraclitus
Nietzsche’s interpretation of Heraclitus is developed at greatest length in
his early lecture courses The Pre-Platonic Philosophers and Philosophy in
the Tragic Age of the Greeks. In these works, Nietzsche can be seen
struggling to articulate the conception of the one and the many that he
found in Heraclitus.

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-75007-7_3
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Title: Karamazovin veljekset II

Romaani
Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky
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KARAMAZOVIN VELJEKSET II ***
KARAMAZOVIN VELJEKSET II
Romaani
Kirj.
F. M. DOSTOJEVSKI
Suomentanut
V. K. Trast
Helsingissä, Kustannusosakeyhtiö Otava, 1. p. ilm. v. 1927.

SISÄLLYS:
KOLMAS OSA JATKUU
Kahdeksas kirja: Mitja
1. Kuzjma Samsonov 2. Ljagavyi 3. Kultakaivos 4. Pimeässä 5.

Äkillinen ratkaisu 6. Itse olen tulossa 7. Entinen ja kiistämätön 8.
Houre
Yhdeksäs kirja: Valmistava tutkinta
1. Virkamies Perhotinin menestyksen alku

2. Hälytys
3. Sielun kulku koettelemusten kautta. Ensimmäinen koettelemus.
4. Toinen koettelemus
5. Kolmas koettelemus
6. Prokuraattori sai Mitjan kiinni
7. Mitjan suuri salaisuus. Vihellettiin
8. Todistajain kertomus. Lapsukainen
9. Mitja vietiin pois
NELJÄS OSA
Kymmenes kirja: Pojat
1. Kolja Krasotkin 2. Lapsiparvi 3. Koulupoika 4. Žutška 5. Iljušan

vuoteen ääressä 6. Varhainen kehitys
Yhdestoista kirja: Veli Ivan Fjodorovitš
1. Grušenjkan luona
2. Kipeä jalka
3. Reuhtova lapsi
4. Hymni ja salaisuus
5. Et sinä, et sinä
6. Ensimmäinen keskustelu Smerdjakovin kanssa
7. Toinen käynti Smerdjakovin luona
8. Kolmas ja viimeinen käynti Smerdjakovin luona
9. Piru. Ivan Fjodorovitšin painajainen
10. »Hän sen sanoi!»
Kahdestoista kirja: Tuomiovirhe
1. Kovan onnen päivä

2. Vaarallisia todistajia
3. Lääketieteellinen asianymmärtäjäin lausunto ja naula pähkinöitä
4. Onni hymyilee Mitjalle
5. Äkkiarvaamaton katastrofi
6. Prokuraattorin puhe. Karakteristiikka.
7. Historiallinen katsaus
8. Tutkielma Smerdjakovista
9. Psykologiaa täydellä höyryllä. Kiitävä kolmivaljakko
Prokuraattorin
puheen loppu.
10. Puolustajan puhe. Kepissä on kaksi päätä
11. Rahoja ei ollut. Ryöstöä ei tapahtunut.
12. Eikä murhaakaan tapahtunut
13. Avionrikkoja ajatuksissa
14. Talonpojat olivat miehiä puolestaan
EPILOGI
1. Suunnitelmat Mitjan pelastamiseksi 2. Hetken ajaksi valhe

muuttuu totuudeksi 3. Iljušetškan hautajaiset. Puhe kiven luona.
KOLMAS OSA JATKUU
Kahdeksas kirja
Mitja
1.
Kuzjma Samsonov
Dmitri Fjodorovitš, jolle Grušenjka lentäessään uuteen elämään oli
»käskenyt» sanomaan viimeisen tervehdyksensä ja käskenyt
ikuisesti muistamaan hänen lempensä tunnin, oli tällä hetkellä,
tietämättä mitään siitä, mitä Grušenjkalle oli tapahtunut, niinikään
suuren ahdistuksen ja huolten vallassa. Viimeisinä kahtena päivänä
hän oli ollut sellaisessa sanoin kuvaamattomassa tilassa, että olisi
todellakin voinut saada aivokuumeen, niinkuin hän itse myöhemmin
sanoi. Aljoša ei ollut edellisen päivän aamuna voinut saada häntä
käsiinsä, eikä veli Ivan samana päivänä saanut toimeen kohtausta
hänen kanssaan ravintolassa. Hänen asuntonsa isäntäväki peitti
hänen käskystään hänen jälkensä. Hän oli näinä kahtena päivänä
aivan sananmukaisesti häärinyt joka puolella, »taistellen kohtaloaan
vastaan ja koettaen pelastaa itsensä», kuten hän myöhemmin
lausui, olipa muutamaksi tunniksi erään polttavan asian vuoksi
kiitänyt pois kaupungista, vaikka hänestä oli kauheata poistua ja
jättää Grušenjka vaikkapa hetkeksikin näkyvistään. Kaikki tämä
selvitettiin myöhemmin mitä seikkaperäisimmin ja asiakirjain
perusteella, mutta nyt mainitsemme vain kaikkein välttämättömimmät
kohdat näiden hänen elämänsä kahden kauhean päivän historiasta,
jotka hän eli sen hirveän katastrofin edellä, joka niin äkkiä järkähdytti
hänen kohtaloaan.
Vaikka Grušenjka todella oli häntä rakastanut tunnin verran

totisesti ja vilpittömästi, niin hän oli myös kiusannut häntä tänä
aikana jonkin kerran tosiaankin julmasti ja säälimättömästi. Pääasia
tässä on, että Mitja ei voinut arvata mitään Grušenjkan aikeista;
mahdotonta oli myös päästä niiden perille houkuttelemalla
hellyydellä tai väkivallalla: Grušenjka ei olisi millään ehdolla
antautunut, vaan ainoastaan suuttunut ja jättänyt hänet kokonaan,
sen hän ymmärsi silloin selvästi. Hän epäili silloin varsin oikein, että
Grušenjka itsekin kävi jonkinmoista taistelua ja oli jonkinmoisen
tavallisuudesta poikkeavan epäröinnin vallassa, aikoi tehdä jonkin
päätöksen eikä voinut päästä tulokseen, ja siksipä hän syystä kyllä
otaksui, sydämen ahdistusta tuntien, että joinakin hetkinä
Grušenjkan suorastaan täytyi vihata häntä ja hänen intohimoaan.
Kenties olikin niin, mutta mitä Grušenjka nimenomaan kaihosi, sitä
hän ei kuitenkaan ymmärtänyt. Oikeastaan häntä kiusaava kysymys
hänen mielessään kiteytyi ainoastaan kahteen määritelmään: Joko
hän, Mitja, tai Fjodor Pavlovitš. Tässä on sivumennen merkittävä
eräs varma tosiseikka: hän oli varma siitä, että Fjodor Pavlovitš
ehdottomasti esittää (jollei jo ollut esittänyt) Grušenjkalle laillista
avioliittoa, eikä hän hetkeäkään uskonut, että vanha irstailija toivoo
selviävänsä vain kolmellatuhannella. Tähän johtopäätökseen Mitja
oli tullut tuntien Grušenjkan ja tämän luonteen. Siksipä hänestä aika
ajoin saattoi näyttääkin siltä, että koko Grušenjkan kärsimys ja koko
hänen epäröintinsä johtui ainoastaan siitä, että hän ei tietänyt,
kumman heistä valitsisi ja kumpi heistä olisi hänelle edullisempi.
»Upseerin», t.s. Grušenjkan elämän kohtaloihin niin paljon
vaikuttaneen miehen, pikaista palaamista, jota Grušenjka odotti niin
kiihtyneenä ja peloissaan, ei Mitja — omituista kyllä — näinä päivinä
edes ottanut ajatellakseen. Totta oli, että Grušenjka aivan viime
päivinä ei ollut hänen kanssaan ollenkaan puhunut tästä. Kuitenkin
hän tiesi aivan hyvin Grušenjkan itsensä kertomuksesta siitä
kirjeestä, jonka tämä kuukausi sitten oli saanut tuolta entiseltä
viettelijältään, tiesipä osittain kirjeen sisällyksenkin. Silloin oli
Grušenjka eräänä ilkeänä hetkenään näyttänyt hänelle tämän
kirjeen, mutta Grušenjkan ihmeeksi hän ei antanut sille juuri mitään
arvoa. Ja hyvin vaikeata olisi selittää, mistä syystä: kenties
yksinkertaisesti sen tähden, että kun häntä itseään näännytti sen
taistelun koko säädyttömyys ja kauheus, jota hän kävi omaa isäänsä
vastaan tämän naisen tähden, niin hän ei enää voinut ajatellakaan
mitään hänelle itselleen peloittavampaa ja vaarallisempaa, ei
ainakaan siihen aikaan. Sulhaseen, joka oli ilmestynyt jostakin
oltuaan viisi vuotta kateissa, hän suorastaan ei uskonut, varsinkaan
ei siihen, että tämä saapuisi kohta. Ja itse tuossa »upseerin»
ensimmäisessä kirjeessäkin, joka oli näytetty Mitenjkalle, puhuttiin
tämän uuden kilpailijan saapumisesta sangen epämääräisesti: kirje
oli hyvin hämärä, hyvin korkealentoinen ja täynnä vain
tunteellisuutta. On huomattava, että Grušenjka sillä kertaa ei ollut
näyttänyt hänelle kirjeen viimeisiä rivejä, joissa puhuttiin paluusta
jonkin verran täsmällisemmin. Lisäksi vielä Mitenjka muisteli
jälkeenpäin huomanneensa tuolla hetkellä Grušenjkan kasvoissa
ikäänkuin jonkinmoista tahdotonta ja ylpeätä halveksimista tuota
Siperiasta tullutta tervehdystä kohtaan. Tämän jälkeen ei Grušenjka
ollut kertonut Mitenjkalle mitään muusta yhteydestään tämän uuden
kilpailijan kanssa. Näin hän oli vähitellen kokonaan unohtanut
upseerin. Hän ajatteli ainoastaan sitä, että kävipä miten tahansa ja
saipa asia minkä käänteen tahansa, niin tulossa oleva lopullinen
yhteentörmäys hänen ja Fjodor Pavlovitšin välillä oli kovin lähellä ja
oli saatava selvitetyksi ennen kuin mikään muu. Mielenahdistuksen
vallassa hän odotti joka hetki Grušenjkan ratkaisua ja uskoi kaiken
aikaa sen tapahtuvan odottamatta, hetken hurmiossa. Grušenjka
sanoo äkkiä hänelle: »Ota minut, olen ikuisesti sinun», — ja kaikki
on päättynyt: hän ottaa Grušenjkan ja vie hänet heti maailman ääriin.
Oi, hän vie hänet heti mahdollisimman kauas, jollei maailman ääriin,
niin jonnekin Venäjän rajoille, menee siellä hänen kanssaan
naimisiin ja asettuu hänen kanssaan asumaan incognito, niin ettei
kukaan tiedä heistä kerrassaan mitään, ei täällä eikä siellä eikä
missään. Silloin, oi, silloin alkaa heti aivan toinen elämä! Tästä
toisesta, uudistuneesta ja »hyveellisestä» elämästä (»ehdottomasti,
ehdottomasti hyveellisestä») hän haaveksi joka hetki ja kiihkeästi.
Hän janosi tätä ylösnousemusta ja uudistusta. Iljettävä liejuhauta,
johon hän oli takertunut omasta tahdostaan, tuntui hänestä kovin
vastenmieliseltä, ja kuten hyvin monet tämmöisissä tapauksissa,
samoin hänkin pani uskonsa ensisijassa paikan muutokseen:
kunhan vapautuisi näistä ihmisistä, näistä oloista, kunhan vain
pääsisi pois tästä kirotusta paikasta, niin — kaikki syntyisi uudelleen,
kaikki lähtisi menemään uutta latua! Niin hän uskoi ja tätä hän ikävöi.
Mutta näin kävisi vain, jos kysymys saisi ensimmäisen, onnellisen

ratkaisun. Oli olemassa toinenkin ratkaisu, mieleen nousi toinenkin,
mutta kauhea mahdollisuus. Grušenjka sanoo yhtäkkiä hänelle:
»Mene pois, minä olen juuri sopinut Fjodor Pavlovitšin kanssa ja
menen hänen kanssaan naimisiin enkä tarvitse sinua», — ja silloin…
mutta silloin… Mitja ei kylläkään tietänyt, mitä silloin tapahtuisi, ei
tietänyt aivan viimeiseen hetkeen asti, se on mainittava hänen
puolustuksekseen. Hänellä ei ollut mitään täsmälleen määriteltyjä
aikeita. Hän vain piti silmällä, vakoili ja kiusasi itseään, mutta
valmistautui muutoin vain kohtalonsa ensimmäisen, onnellisen
ratkaisun varalta. Vieläpä hän karkoittikin mielestään kaikki muut
ajatukset. Mutta tässä alkoi jo aivan toinen vaikeus, aivan uusi ja
syrjäinen, mutta myös kohtalokas seikka, joka ei ollut ratkaistavissa?
Nimittäin jos Grušenjka sanoo hänelle: »Minä olen sinun omasi,

vie minut pois», niin kuinka hän hänet vie? Mistä hän saa siihen
keinot, rahat? Häneltä olivat juuri nyt tyrehtyneet kaikki tähän saakka
niin monen vuoden kuluessa yhtä mittaa jatkuneet tulonsa, jotka
johtuivat Fjodor Pavlovitšin antimista. Tietysti Grušenjkalla oli rahoja,
mutta tässä suhteessa ilmeni Mitjassa äkkiä suuri ylpeys: hän tahtoi
viedä itse hänet pois ja aloittaa hänen kanssaan uutta elämää omilla
eikä hänen varoillaan; hän ei voinut kuvitellakaan, että ottaisi
Grušenjkalta rahoja, ja tämä ajatus tuotti hänelle niin suurta
kärsimystä, että hän lopulta tunsi kiusallista inhoa. En syvenny tässä
tähän tosiasiaan, en ryhdy sitä analysoimaan, vaan huomautan
ainoastaan: sellainen oli hänen sielunsa rakenne tällä hetkellä. Tämä
kaikki saattoi välillisesti ja ikäänkuin tiedottomasti johtua myös hänen
salaisista omantunnontuskistaan sen johdosta, että hän oli tavallaan
varastanut Katerina Ivanovnan rahat: »Toisen edessä olen konna ja
toisen edessä osoittaudun heti taas konnaksi», ajatteli hän silloin,
kuten myöhemmin itse tunnusti: »Ja jos Grušenjka saa tietää, niin
hän ei itsekään tahdo ottaa tämmöistä konnaa.» Mistä siis oli
otettava varat, mistä otettava nämä kohtalokkaat rahat? Muuten on
kaikki hukassa eikä synny mitään, »ja yksinomaan sen tähden, ettei
ollut riittävästi rahaa, oi, se on häpeä!»
Menen kertomuksessani kauemmaksi eteenpäin: siinäpä se onkin,

että hän ehkä tiesikin, mistä voisi saada nämä rahat, tiesi ehkä,
missä ne olivatkin. Yksityiskohtaisemmin en tällä kertaa esitä mitään,
sillä kaikki selviää myöhemmin; mutta hänen suurin
onnettomuutensa, — sanon sen, vaikkapa se on epäselvää, — oli
tämä: voidakseen ottaa nuo jossakin olevat varat, ollakseen
oikeutettu ne ottamaan, hänen oli ensin palautettava kolmetuhatta
ruplaa Katerina Ivanovnalle — muuten »minä olen taskuvaras,
konna, mutta uutta elämää en tahdo aloittaa konnana», päätti Mitja,
ja siksi hän oli päättänyt mullistaa koko maailman, jos niin tarvittiin,
mutta ehdottomasti toimittaa nuo kolmetuhatta takaisin Katerina
Ivanovnalle millä tavalla tahansa ja ennen kaikkea. Tämän
päätöksen syntymisen lopullinen prosessi oli hänessä tapahtunut
niin sanoakseni hänen elämänsä aivan viimeisinä hetkinä, nimittäin
kun hän viimeksi oli tavannut Aljošan kaksi päivää sitten illalla tiellä,
sen jälkeen kuin Grušenjka oli loukannut Katerina Ivanovnaa ja Mitja,
kuultuaan Aljošan kertomuksen tästä tapahtumasta, oli tunnustanut
olevansa konna ja käskenyt kertoa sen Katerina Ivanovnalle, »jos
tämä voi jossakin määrin tehdä hänen oloansa helpommaksi».
Silloin, tuona samana yönä, hän oli erottuaan veljestään tuntenut
kiihkoissaan, että hänen on parempi vaikkapa »tappaa ja ryöstää
joku, mutta maksaa Katjalle velka». »Olkoon mieluummin niin, että
minä tuon murhatun ja ryöstetyn edessä ja kaikkien ihmisten
silmissä olen murhaaja ja varas ja menen Siperiaan, kuin että
Katjalla olisi oikeus sanoa, että minä petin hänet ja varastin häneltä
rahat sekä karkasin näillä rahoilla Grušenjkan kanssa aloittamaan
hyveellistä elämää! Tätä minä en voi!» Näin lausui hampaitaan
kiristellen Mitja ja saattoi aika ajoin todellakin kuvitella saavansa
lopuksi aivotulehduksen. Mutta nyt hän vielä kamppaili…
Omituista: luulisi, että kun hän oli näin päättänyt, niin hänellä ei
enää voinut olla jäljellä mitään muuta kuin epätoivo; sillä mistä
saattoi äkkiä ottaa sellaisen rahasumman, varsinkin hänen
kaltaisensa köyhä raukka? Mutta kuitenkin hän koko tuon ajan
loppuun asti toivoi, että saa nuo kolmetuhatta, että ne tulevat,
lentävät hänelle ikäänkuin itsestään, vaikkapa taivaasta. Niinpä juuri
onkin sellaisten laita, jotka niinkuin Dmitri Fjodorovitškin koko
elämänsä ajan osaavat vain tuhlata ja panna menemään perittyjä,
vaivatta saatuja rahoja, mutta joilla ei ole mitään käsitystä siitä, miten
rahaa hankitaan. Mitä fantastisimpia ajatuksia oli alkanut pyöriä
hänen päässään heti sen jälkeen kuin hän toissa päivänä oli eronnut
Aljošasta, ja hänen kaikki ajatuksensa menivät aivan sekaisin. Siitä
johtui, että hän ensimmäiseksi ryhtyi sangen hurjaan yritykseen.
Niin, kenties juuri tämmöisissä tiloissa tämänkaltaisista ihmisistä
kaikkein mahdottomimmat ja fantastisimmat yritykset näyttävät
ensimmäisiltä mahdollisilta. Hän päätti äkkiä mennä kauppias
Samsonovin, Grušenjkan suojelijan luo ja esittää hänelle erään
»suunnitelman», saada häneltä tätä »suunnitelmaa» vastaan heti
koko tarvitsemansa rahasumman; suunnitelmaa liikeyrityksenä
ajatellen hän ei epäillyt ollenkaan, vaan epäili ainoastaan sitä, miten
arvostelee hänen päähänpälkähdystään itse Samsonov, jos hän ei
tahdo katsoa sitä ainoastaan liikeyrityksen kannalta. Vaikka Mitja
tunsikin tämän kauppiaan ulkonäöltä, niin hän ei kuitenkaan ollut
tuttu hänen kanssaan eikä edes ollut kertaakaan puhunut hänen
kanssaan. Mutta jostakin syystä hänessä jo kauan sitten oli syntynyt
vakaumus, että tämä vanha irstailija, joka nyt oli henkihieverissä, nyt
kenties ei ollenkaan olisi sitä vastaan, että Grušenjka järjestäisi
elämänsä jollakin kunniallisella tavalla ja menisi naimisiin
»luotettavan miehen» kanssa. Eikä hän vain ole panematta vastaan,
vaan haluaa itsekin sitä ja tilaisuuden ilmaantuessa itsekin on valmis
asiaa edistämään. Joistakin huhuistako vai joistakin Grušenjkan
sanoistako Mitja lienee myös tehnyt sen johtopäätöksen, että ukko
kenties soisi Grušenjkalle mieluummin hänet kuin Fjodor Pavlovitšin.
Kenties monen kertomuksemme lukijan mielestä tämä hänen
luulonsa, että saisi tuolla tavoin apua, ja hänen aikeensa ottaa
morsiamensa niin sanoakseni tämän suojelijan käsistä, tuntuu liian
karkealta ja häikäilemättömältä Dmitri Fjodorovitšin puolelta. Voin
huomauttaa vain sen, että Grušenjkan entisyys näytti Mitjan mielestä
olevan jo kokonaan lopussa. Hän katseli tätä menneisyyttä
rajattomalla säälillä ja päätti intohimonsa koko hehkulla, että kun
Grušenjka lausuu hänelle rakastavansa häntä ja menevänsä hänen
kanssaan naimisiin, niin samassa heti on olemassa uusi Grušenjka
ja yhdessä hänen kanssaan myös aivan uusi Dmitri Fjodorovitš,
ilman mitään vikoja ja vain hyveellinen: he kumpikin antavat anteeksi
toisilleen ja alkavat elää aivan uudella tavalla. Mitä taas tulee
Kuzjma Samsonoviin, niin tätä hän piti tuossa Grušenjkan entisessä,
jo ohitse menneessä elämänkaudessa Grušenjkan elämään
kohtalokkaasti vaikuttaneena miehenä, jota Grušenjka ei kuitenkaan
koskaan ollut rakastanut ja joka myös, se oli tässä tärkeintä, jo oli
»mennyt ohi», oli loppunut, niin että häntäkään nyt ei lainkaan ollut
olemassa. Kaiken lisäksi Mitja ei voinut enää pitää häntä
ihmisenäkään, sillä tunnettua oli kaikille ja koko kaupungille, että hän
oli vain sairas raunio, joka oli säilyttänyt Grušenjkaan niin
sanoakseni vain isällisen suhteen, aivan toisella pohjalla kuin ennen,
ja että näin oli ollut jo pitkän aikaa. Joka tapauksessa tässä oli paljon
vilpittömyyttäkin Mitjan puolelta, sillä kaikista vioistaan huolimatta
hän oli sangen suora mies. Tämän suoruutensa vuoksi hän muun
muassa oli vakavasti vakuutettu siitä, että vanha Kuzjma nyt
valmistautuessaan lähtemään toiseen maailmaan tuntee vilpitöntä
katumusta entisen käytöksensä johdosta Grušenjkaa kohtaan ja ettei
Grušenjkalla ole uskollisempaa suojelijaa ja ystävää kuin tämä nyt jo
vaaraton ukko.
Keskusteltuaan Aljošan kanssa kedolla ei Mitja ollut nukkunut juuri

ollenkaan koko yönä, ja seuraavana päivänä hän ilmestyi
Samsonovin taloon kello kymmenen tienoissa aamulla ja käski
ilmoittaa tulostaan. Tämä talo oli vanha, synkkä, hyvin iso,
kaksikerroksinen, ja siihen kuului piha- ja sivurakennuksia.
Alakerroksessa asuivat Samsonovin kaksi nainutta poikaa
perheineen, hänen hyvin vanha sisarensa ja yksi naimaton tytär.
Sivurakennuksessa asusti kaksi hänen kauppa-apulaistaan, joista
toisella oli myös iso perhe. Sekä lapsilla että kauppa-apulaisilla oli
ahdasta asunnoissaan, mutta talon yläkerroksen piti ukko yksin
hallussaan eikä päästänyt luokseen asumaan edes tytärtäänkään,
joka hoiti häntä ja jonka piti määrättyinä tunteina ja epämääräisinä
aikoina ukon kutsuessa joka kerta juosta alhaalta hänen luokseen
ylös, huolimatta häntä jo kauan vaivanneesta hengenahdistuksesta.
Tämän »yläkerran» muodosti joukko suuria loistohuoneita, jotka oli
kalustettu vanhanaikaiseen kauppiastapaan, pitkät, ikävät rivit
kömpelötekoisia mahonkisia tuoleja ja nojatuoleja seinustoilla,
verhoihin käärittyjä kristallisia kynttiläkruunuja katoissa, kolkon
näköisiä kuvastimia seinillä ikkunain välissä. Kaikki nämä huoneet
seisoivat aivan käyttämättöminä, sillä sairas ukko oli vetäytynyt
yhteen ainoaan huoneeseen, kaukana perällä olevaan
makuuhuoneeseensa, jossa häntä palveli vanha palvelijatar, tukka
huiviin käärittynä, ja palvelijapoika, joka oleili eteisessä
laatikkopenkillä. Kävellä ei ukko juuri ollenkaan voinut, kun hänen
jalkansa olivat turvonneet, ja vain harvoin hän nousi nahkaisesta
nojatuolistaan, jolloin eukko tukien häntä kainalosta kävelytti häntä
kerran tai pari ympäri huoneen. Hän oli ankara ja harvapuheinen
myös tätä eukkoa kohtaan. Kun hänelle ilmoitettiin »kapteenin» tulo,
niin hän heti käski ilmoittaa, ettei ota vastaan. Mutta Mitja oli
itsepintainen ja pyysi uudelleen ilmoittamaan itsensä. Kuzjma
Kuzjmitš tiedusteli tarkasti palvelijapojalta: miltä se näyttää, eikö ole
juovuksissa? Eikö se räyhää? Vastaukseksi hän sai, että »ei ole
päissään, mutta ei tahdo mennä pois». Ukko käski viedä uudelleen
kieltävän vastauksen. Silloin Mitja, joka oli aavistanut tätä ja tämän
varalta vartavasten ottanut mukaansa paperia ja lyijykynän, kirjoitti
selvästi paperipalalle yhden rivin: »Mitä tärkeimmän asian johdosta,
joka läheisesti koskee Agrafena Aleksandrovnaa», ja lähetti sen
ukolle. Vähän aikaa ajateltuaan ukko käski palvelijapojan viedä
vieraan saliin ja lähetti eukon alas käskemään hänen nuorinta
poikaansa tulemaan heti hänen luokseen ylös. Tämä nuorin poika,
joka oli noin kuuden jalan mittainen mies ja määrättömän väkevä
sekä oli aina sileäksi ajettu ja saksalaiseen tapaan puettu (itse
Samsonov oli puettu viittaan ja oli pitkäpartainen), saapui heti ja
mitään puhumatta. Kaikki he vapisivat isän edessä. Isä ei ollut
kutsunut tätä nuorta miestä sen tähden, että olisi pelännyt
»kapteenia», sillä hän ei ollut ensinkään arka luonteeltaan, vaan
muuten vain kaiken varalta, etupäässä todistajaksi. Poikansa
kanssa, joka talutti häntä, ja palvelijapojan seuraamana hän viimein
tulla laahusti saliin. Täytyy otaksua, että hän tunsi myös jonkinmoista
varsin voimakasta uteliaisuutta. Tämä sali, jossa Mitja odotti, oli
hyvin iso, synkkä, mieltä ikävystyttävä huone, jossa oli kaksi
ikkunaa, »marmoriset» seinät ja kolme hirveän isoa kristallista
kynttiläkruunua katossa. Mitja istui pienellä tuolilla ulos johtavan
oven luona ja odotti hermostuneen kärsimättömästi kohtaloansa.
Kun ukko saapui vastapäätä olevasta ovesta, jonne oli
kymmenkunta syltä matkaa Mitjan tuolista, niin tämä äkkiä hypähti
pystyyn ja lähti astumaan häntä vastaan lujilla, pitkillä sotilaan
askelilla. Mitja oli hyvin puettu, napitetussa takissa, pyöreä hattu ja
mustat hansikkaat kädessä, aivan samoin kuin oli ollut puettu kolme
päivää aikaisemmin luostarissa luostarinvanhimman luona,
perhekokouksessa Fjodor Pavlovitšin ja veljiensä seurassa. Ukko
odotti, häntä arvokkaana ja ankarana seisoen paikallaan, ja Mitja
tunsi heti, että hänen lähestyessään ukko oli päässyt täysin selville
hänestä. Mitjaa hämmästyttivät Kuzjma Kuzjmitšin viime aikoina
tavattomasti pöhöttyneet kasvot: hänen muutenkin paksu
alahuulensa oli nyt kuin riippuva makkara. Arvokkaasti ja ääneti hän
kumarsi vieraalle, osoitti hänelle sohvan luona olevaa nojatuolia ja
alkoi itse hitaasti poikansa käteen nojaten ja sairaan tavoin ähkien
laskeutua istumaan vastapäätä Mitjaa sohvalle, niin että tämä
nähdessään sairaan miehen ponnistukset heti alkoi tuntea
sydämessään katumusta ja herkkää häpeän tunnetta nykyisen
mitättömyytensä johdosta niin arvokkaan henkilön edessä, jota hän
oli tullut vaivaamaan.
— Mitä te, hyvä herra, tahdotte minusta? — lausui ukko,

päästyään viimein istumaan, hitaasti, selvästi, mutta kohteliaasti.
Mitja hätkähti, aikoi hypähtää pystyyn, mutta istahti taas. Sitten
hän heti alkoi puhua kovalla äänellä, nopeasti, hermostuneesti, eleitä
tehden ja hyvin kiihtyneenä. Näkyi, että siinä mies on mennyt
äärimmäiselle rajalle, on tuhon oma ja etsii viimeistä pelastuskeinoa,
ja jos ei onnistu, niin on valmis heti hukkumaan. Kaiken tämän ukko
Samsonov luultavasti ymmärsi silmänräpäyksessä, vaikka hänen
kasvonsa kaiken aikaa olivat liikkumattomat ja kylmät kuin
kuvapatsaan.
— Jalosukuinen Kuzjma Kuzjmitš on luultavasti jo useasti kuullut

minun riidoistani isäni Fjodor Pavlovitšin kanssa, joka on ryöstänyt
minulta äitini perinnön… sillä koko kaupunki juoruaa tästä… koska
täällä kaikki juoruavat siitä, mistä ei tarvitsisi… Ja sitäpaitsi on voinut
tulla tiedoksi myös Grušenjkan… anteeksi: Agrafena
Aleksandrovnan kautta… kunnioitettavan ja suuressa arvossa
pitämäni Agrafena Aleksandrovnan… — näin alkoi Mitja ja sekaantui
jo ensimmäisissä sanoissaan. Mutta me emme tässä esitä
sananmukaisesti hänen koko puhettaan, vaan ainoastaan
selostamme sen. Asia muka on semmoinen, että hän, Mitja, vielä
kolme kuukautta sitten vasiten neuvotteli (hän lausui nimenomaan
»vasiten» eikä vartavasten) asianajajan kanssa läänin
pääkaupungissa, kuuluisan asianajajan, Kuzjma Kuzjmitš, Pavel
Pavlovitš Korneplodovin kanssa, olette varmaankin kuullut? Perin
viisas mies, miltei valtiomiehen äly… tuntee teidätkin… mainitsi teitä
mitä mairittelevimmin… takertui Mitja toistamiseen puheessaan.
Mutta nämä katkeamiset eivät saaneet häntä pysähtymään, hän
hyppäsi heti niiden yli ja riensi yhä eteenpäin. Tämä samainen
Korneplodov, kyseltyään asioita seikkaperäisesti ja tarkastettuaan ne
asiakirjat, jotka Mitja saattoi hänelle esittää (asiakirjoista Mitja puhui
epäselvästi ja kiiruhti erityisesti tässä paikassa), oli sitä mieltä, että
Tšermašnjan kylään nähden, jonka kylän muka pitäisi kuulua
hänelle, Mitjalle, äidin perintönä, voisi todellakin aloittaa jutun ja sillä
ahdistaa hävytöntä ukkoa… »sillä eivät kaikki tiet ole tukossa, ja
oikeudenhoito kyllä tietää, mistä on tunkeuduttava läpi». Sanalla
sanoen, voisi toivoa saavansa Fjodor Pavlovitšiltä, lisää vielä kuusi-
tai seitsemäntuhatta, koska Tšermašnja on kuitenkin vähintään
kahdenkymmenenviidentuhannen arvoinen, tai oikeastaan
varmastikin kahdenkymmenenkahdeksan, »kolmenkymmenen,
kolmenkymmenentuhannen, Kuzjma Kuzjmitš, enkä minä,
ajatelkaahan, ole tältä kovasydämiseltä mieheltä saanut
seitsemäätoistakaan!…» Niin että minä, Mitja, silloin tämän asian
jätin sikseen, sillä en minä ymmärrä mitään oikeusjutuista, mutta
tänne tultuani jouduin ällistyksekseni uloshaun alaiseksi (tässä Mitja
taas sekaantui ja hyppäsi taas jyrkästi toiseen asiaan): niinpä että
ettekö te, jalosukuinen Kuzjma Kuzjmitš, haluaisi ottaa kaikkia minun
oikeuksiani tuota petoa kohtaan ja antaa siitä minulle vain
kolmetuhatta… Tehän ette missään tapauksessa voi joutua
kärsimään tappiota, sen vannon kunniani kautta, kunniani kautta,
vaan voitte päinvastoin ansaita kuusi- tai seitsemäntuhatta kolmen
asemesta… Mutta pääasia on, että asia päätetään »jo tänään».
»Minä toimitan notaarille taikka miten vain tarvitaan… Sanalla
sanoen, minä olen valmis kaikkeen, annan kaikki asiakirjat mitä
vaaditte, allekirjoitan kaikki… ja me laittaisimme heti kuntoon tämän
paperin, ja jos suinkin mahdollista, jos suinkin mahdollista, jo tänä
aamuna… Te antaisitte minulle nuo kolmetuhatta… sillä kukapa muu
on teidän veroisenne rahamies tässä kaupungissa… ja sillä te
pelastaisitte minut… sanalla sanoen, pelastaisitte minut hyvää asiaa
varten, jaloa asiaa varten, voi sanoa… sillä minulla on mitä
kunniallisimmat tunteet erästä henkilöä kohtaan, jonka te hyvin
tunnette ja josta pidätte huolta isällisesti. En olisi muuten tullutkaan,
jos ette tekisi sitä isällisesti. Ja, jos niin tahdotte, niin tässä on

Nietzsche As Egoist and Mystic Andrew Milne Full Chapter

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Nietzsche as Egoist and Mystic Andrew

ISBN 978-3-030-75006-0 ISBN 978-3-030-75007-7 (eBook)

Nietzsche’s works are referred to in the footnotes using the following

BT The Birth of Tragedy, in The Birth of Tragedy and the Case of

Z Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. W. Kaufmann, Penguin, 1978.

Nothing comparable to the scholarly English translations of Nietzsche’s

GF Goethe’s Faust, ed. and trans. W. Kaufmann, Anchor Books, 1963.

1 The Sanctification of Nietzsche 1

2 Ancestors, Part I 13

3 Ancestors, Part II 35

4 Mysticism from Birth to Breakdown 65

6 The Great Hospital121

7 On Being Enamoured147

8 Hafez Shrugs the Cloak171

It is hardly anything new to present Nietzsche as a religious figure. While

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 1

Each of Nietzsche’s self-proclaimed ‘ancestors’ may be regarded not only

Previous scholarly attempts to mediate between Nietzsche and mystics

of having a right to everything”.26 They must also be willing to look away

Hafez an example of that “ingenious buffoonery” that he called the high-

In closing this introduction, and by way of briefly addressing my

bound to invite unflattering comparisons. It is not merely the poverty of

Finally, I am indebted to Kaufmann for my belated realisation that

fundamentally misguided Young’s contention that Nietzsche advocated

17. This borrows Kaufmann’s divinely malicious translation of Goethe’s

Kaufmann claimed that “immersion” in Goethe is “precisely what is

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 13

particular attention to Goethe’s conception of the one and the many. In

In English-language scholarship, there are a fair number of quality liter-

un-Christian, nor anti-Christian, but am a committed non-Christian

These two aspects were closely intertwined. Creuzer was a Neoplatonist,

be straightforwardly interpreted. These men think that “there is some-

following Herbert Silberer, gives a psychological interpretation of

Nietzsche knew himself to be a decadent and, constantly wary of self-­

universal manifesting under different conditions [Das Allgemeine und

not therefore expect to find that a single, definitive expression of Goethe’s

can, for example, be seen in several of Michelangelo’s poems, which

To understand what it means to claim that the whole is in the parts, it

Blatt]”. In Versuch die Metamorphose der Pflanzen zu erklären, Goethe

theological or metaphysical speculation. Thus, in a famous letter to

Even if we keep in mind Cassirer’s warnings about the originality of

tormented himself with philosophical disquisitions which could in no

47. Jan. 6, 1813. C.f. “Wir sind naturforschend Pantheisten, dichtend

In Chap. 2, I began to develop an account of Goethe’s conception of the

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 35

Title: Karamazovin veljekset II

Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Release date: September 20, 2023 [eBook #71690]

Original publication: Helsinki: Otava, 1969

Credits: Juhani Kärkkäinen and Tapio Riikonen

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK

Helsingissä, Kustannusosakeyhtiö Otava, 1. p. ilm. v. 1927.

KOLMAS OSA JATKUU

Kahdeksas kirja: Mitja

1. Kuzjma Samsonov 2. Ljagavyi 3. Kultakaivos 4. Pimeässä 5.

Yhdeksäs kirja: Valmistava tutkinta

1. Virkamies Perhotinin menestyksen alku

1. Kolja Krasotkin 2. Lapsiparvi 3. Koulupoika 4. Žutška 5. Iljušan

Yhdestoista kirja: Veli Ivan Fjodorovitš

Kahdestoista kirja: Tuomiovirhe

1. Kovan onnen päivä

1. Suunnitelmat Mitjan pelastamiseksi 2. Hetken ajaksi valhe

KOLMAS OSA JATKUU

1 The Sanctification of Nietzsche 1

2 Ancestors, Part I 13

3 Ancestors, Part II 35

4 Mysticism from Birth to Breakdown 65

6 The Great Hospital121

7 On Being Enamoured147

8 Hafez Shrugs the Cloak171

Nietzsche knew himself to be a decadent and, constantly wary of self-