Nietzsche’s
boundless love (here’s a jocular allusion to Anaximander) for the
pre-Socratics has been noted by us on several occasions, as well as his special
preference for some over the others. But none of these has a higher standing
with Nietzsche than Heraclitus. Not only is he a part of the small “wonderfully
idealized company of philosophers,” but he is also claimed elsewhere as one
of Nietzsche’s four ‘ancestors,’ namely
Heraclitus, Empedocles, Spinoza, and Goethe. (Observe that two out of four
here are pre-Socratics!)
To
make matters even more personal in Nietzsche’s reverence for Heraclitus, here
is a remarkable passage from Ecce Homo (Chapter on Birth of Tragedy
#3):
“…I have the right to understand myself as the first tragic
philosopher--- that is, the most extreme opposite and antipode of a
pessimistic philosopher. Before me this transposition of a Dionysian into a
philosophical pathos did not exist: tragic wisdom was lacking; I have
looked in vain for signs of it even among the great Greeks in philosophy
of the two centuries before Socrates. I retained some doubt in the case
of Heraclitus, in whose proximity I feel altogether warmer and better
than anywhere else.
“The affirmation of passing away and destroying, which is
the decisive feature of a Dionysian philosophy; saying Yes to opposition and
war; becoming, along with a radical repudiation of the very concept of being
-- all this is clearly more closely related to me than anything else
thought to date. The doctrine of “eternal recurrence,” that is, of the
unconditional and infinitely repeated circular course of all things-- this
doctrine of Zarathustra might in the end have been taught already by
Heraclitus. (!!!) At least the Stoa has traces of it, and
the Stoics inherited almost all of their principal notions from Heraclitus.” (!)
According
to this, the weeping philosopher is by no means a pessimist, but is in
fact his antipode, and what he actually represents is tragic philosophy, which
immediately evokes the image of the Greek tragic mask, which can be mistaken
for a weeping face, when in reality it signifies something much more profound
and pointed.
So
far we have seen Nietzsche carelessly dismissing any silly discussion of
Heraclitean unpleasantness, but rather getting directly down to the latter’s
philosophical worth. It is therefore extremely instructive to look at some of
his references to Heraclitus throughout the totality of Nietzsche’s Works,
conspicuously starting with his pre-Socratic magnum opus Philosophy During
the Tragic Age of the Greeks. The first excerpt we quote has been noted
already earlier. Characterizing Plato as a hybrid type, as opposed to
the pure types of the pre-Socratics, Nietzsche writes:
“In Plato’s ideology are united Socratic, Pythagorean, and
Heraclitean elements, and for this reason it is no typically pure phenomenon.
As person, too, Plato mingles the features of the royally secluded,
all-sufficing Heraclitus, of the melancholy compassionate and legislatory
Pythagoras and the psycho-expert dialectician Socrates.”
His
characterization of Heraclitus as royally secluded and all-sufficing, which
I have chosen as the title for this entry can be just as much applied to
Nietzsche himself, establishing that close connection between the two, which
Nietzsche has explicitly emphasized.
Nietzsche’s
analysis of Heraclitean philosophy takes several chapters in his Philosophy
During the Tragic Age of the Greeks, and to these chapters (5-8 and beyond)
I direct the interested reader. For much more of this, see also my next entry Being
And Becoming, which I’ve found necessary to insert between the present
entry and the one on the Heraclitean Fragments, for the reasons explained
there.
According
to Nietzsche, “Heraclitus has as his royal property
the highest power of intuitive conception, but toward the other mode of
conception, consummated by ideas and logical combinations, which is reason, he
shows himself cool, apathetic, even hostile, and he seems to derive a pleasure
when he is able to contradict reason by means of a truth gained intuitively,
doing this in such propositions as: Everything has always its opposite
within itself”. (Which
did not fail to scandalize Aristotle!)
Nietzsche
obviously dearly loves Heraclitus, and even the latter’s vice of spiteful
misanthropy turns into a virtue in Nietzsche’s treatment: “As human among humans, Heraclitus was incredible. He had no
need of people, not even for his discernments. He was not interested in all
that which one might perhaps ascertain from them, and in what the other sages
before him had been endeavoring to ascertain. He was disdainful of such
questioning, collecting, in short historic humans. “I sought and
investigated myself,” he said, with the word by which one designates the
investigation of an oracle; as if he and no one else were the true fulfiller
and achiever of the Delphic precept: Know thyself. What he learned from
this oracle, he deemed immortal wisdom and eternally worthy of explanation, of
unlimited effect even in the distance after the model of the prophetic
speeches of the Sibyl. It is sufficient for the latest mankind: let the latter
have that expounded to her, as oracular sayings, which he, like the Delphic
god, “ neither enunciates, nor conceals.” Although it is proclaimed by him,
“without smiles, finery and the scent of ointments, but rather as with foaming
mouth,” it must force its way through the millennia of the
future. For the world needs truth eternally, therefore, she needs also
Heraclitus eternally, although he has no need of her. What does
his fame matter to him? Fame is of concern to humans and not to himself;
the immortality of mankind needs him, not he the immortality of the man
Heraclitus.”
Now,
here is a reference to Heraclitus in Nietzsche’s Götzen-Dämmerung (From
Chapter Reason in Philosophy: #2):
“(On the question of some philosophical idiosyncrasies.) With the
highest respect, I except the name of Heraclitus [from “the rest of the
philosophic folk rejecting the testimony of the senses”]. When the rest of the philosophic folk rejected the
testimony of the senses, because they showed multiplicity and change, he
rejected their testimony, because they showed things as if they had permanence
and unity. Heraclitus, too, did the senses an injustice. They lie neither in
the way that the Eleatics believed, nor as he believed: they do not lie at all.
What we make of their testimony, that alone introduces lies: for example, the
lie of unity, the lie of thinghood, of substance, of permanence. ‘Reason’ is the cause of our falsification
of the testimony of the senses. In so far as the senses show becoming,
passing away, and change, they do not lie. But Heraclitus will remain
eternally right with his assertion that being is an empty fiction.
The ‘apparent’ world is
the only one: the ‘true’ world
is merely added by a lie.” (In other words, Nietzsche praises Heraclitus
for repudiating the thing in itself two
millennia before Kant would become yet another knight errant on that never-ending quest of a lost cause…)
As
promised, our discussion of Nietzsche’s opinion of Heraclitus does not end
here, but continues into the next entry with a discussion of Being and Becoming. And here it comes
(to be posted tomorrow). ---
No comments:
Post a Comment