When Nietzsche Wept Page #2

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ground for despair.

Despair?

No.

Perhaps once but not now. No.

I'm just pregnant.

Here.

My headaches are

the labor pains for

my new book.

What book?

Zarathustral

A young prophet,

bursting with wisdom

and courage and truthfulness decides to

enlighten the people.

I teach you

the U bermensch.

Man is something

that must be overcome.

What have you done

to overcome man?

What is the ape to man?

A laughingstock, but I feel no shame.

J ust that, man shall

be to the U bermensch!

People refused to

understand those words.

The prophet, realizing

he has come too soon

returns to

his solitude.

So... like...

Zarathustra,

I come

too soon.

I must ask you

a personal question.

Physical wellbeing

is not separable

from social and

psychological wellbeing.

Is there someone

with whom you have...

You referring

to sex... Doctor?

Well...

I have found that a

flash of bestial pleasure

is followed by hours

of self-loathing, so,

such herd pleasures

are not for me.

But is there a woman in your life?

Every time I have

attempted to build

a footbridge to others,

I have been betrayed.

First, there was the

composer, Richard Wagner,

I have suffered

because of him,

and later,

my best friend...

with that... woman.

Tell me more

about that... woman.

And why?

It's connected

to your illness.

Trust me

on this.

I cannot afford

to... trust... again.

Then I believe,

Herr Professor,

that we can proceed

no further.

Have a safe

journey home, Herr Professor.

Stupid animal!

Hey, out!

Leave the horse alone!

Leave it! Leave it, I tell you!

Are you alright?

Oan we meet... again?

Friday afternoon,

same time?

Good night.

Breathe deeply, Bertha.

Did you have any dreams last night?

Yes. I dreamt you

were making love to me.

Really?

Yes.

I'm just going to

examine you, don't worry.

It's perfectly normal.

What are you

doing? No!

I want you!

You are mine!

No, Josef!

No, Josef!

How could you?!

Mathilde!

What are

you doing?!

That is horrible!

Horrible!!

Dr. Breuer! You are now a free man.

Go back, you syphilitic

whore! He's mine!

No!

He's mine!

M ine!

He is mine!

He's mine!

No!

He's mine!

"There was a time in our lives

"when we were

so close

"that nothing seemed to

obstruct our friendship.

"When only a footprint separated us.

"I asked you, ' Do you want to

cross the footbridge to me? '

But you did

not want to."

What do you make

of it, Siggy?

I'm not sure.

Let's reason it out. The first

man can no longer cross because

he feels he is submitting

his power to the other person.

Yes. Yes.

You're right.

He interprets any expression

of positive sentiment

as a bid

for power.

It makes it almost impossible

to get close to him I

It's all here.

May I see it?

And reveal

his identity?

And why not?

Perhaps if you lend

this book to Siggy

you won't hide in your

study all night reading it.

Mathilde, stop.

What am I to do

when I watch you

withdraw more and more

from me and the children?

First that woman!

Now this N ietzsche!

Friedrich N ietzsche?

To this day I regret listening to you.

The transfer of Bertha to another doctor

remains one of the

great shames of my life!

Excellent books.

Very few copies

of them sold.

Then your publisher is a fool

for not championing these

with his life's blood.

You're writing in short

and brief sentences.

It is my ambition to

say in ten sentences

what others

say in a whole book.

H m.

As to

your migraines,

I believe their fundamental

cause lies in stress.

Due to upsetting events

in your work, your family,

your personal

relationships.

I've given

up teaching.

I have no home

to look after,

no wife to

quarrel with,

no children

to discipline.

I have no obligations to anyone.

I have no stress.

Your extreme isolation

is stressing itself.

Great thinkers choose

their own company, no?

U ndisturbed by

the mob.

Oonsider Thoreau,

Spinoza, Buddha.

Professor.

Stress is

our enemy.

My task is to help you

reduce stress in your life.

I propose that you

enter my Lauzon clinic

for one month of

observation and treatment.

We have new medications for migraine.

I will visit

you daily.

I'm unable to pay...

for such services.

Money doesn't

matter to me.

It will be free.

And why are you doing this?

You came to

me for help.

I offer it.

I'm a doctor.

Far too simple.

H uman motivation

is far more complex.

What is

your motive?

Why are

you here?

Because of pressure from

my friends and my headaches.

I ask again. What is your motive

if you don't request

payment for such services.

One practices

one's profession.

A cobbler cobbles.

A baker bakes.

A doctor doctors.

Why do you write?

Why philosophize?

You want nothing

from your work.

I do not claim I philosophize for you.

Whereas you, doctor,

continue to pretend

that your motive

is to serve me.

Such claims have nothing

to do with human motivation.

Now what

are your motives?

My motives?

Yes!

My motives?!

Who can answer

such a question?

I believe you

are destined

to become

a great philosopher.

My mission is to aid you

in becoming who you are.

So you as my savior

can become even greater?

I did not

say that!

Do you know

my patients

are the leading scientists

and musicians in Vienna?

Yes, and at this moment

you use their eminence

to enhance your

authority with me!

I will never

exploit your name.

I will still be used by you!

Nonsense!

Your charity, your

techniques to help me?

To manage me!

All of these with you

stronger at my expense!

This is a perfect

example of why

you cannot dissect

your own psyche!

Your vision is

blurred, Professor!

You need help!

You are about to make a mistakel

Then go

already!

You crazed

deluded creature!

Shabbat Shalom.

Oome here!

The old Bishop,

N ietzsche,

he's dying

in my hotel!

Get me

some ice!

Dear God!

Bring me

some blankets!

Herr Professor.

Professor Nietzsche.

Friedrich I

Take the pain.

Take the pain in.

You will

feel better.

Help me.

That much chlorine

is a poison

in the sleeping juice

so you could have died.

Oh, living, dying,

who cares?

I shall be in your office

tomorrow with what I owe.

Before my train

leaves for Basel.

Basel?

Yes.

Not until this crisis is over.

I'm leaving tomorrow.

You know, part of me holds some...

strange hope that by

helping this bizarre creature

overcome his

own suffering,

I might

defeat my own.

Defeat your suffering?

You're the envy of

every doctor in Vienna.

One feels

things at 40

that one cannot possibly know at 25.

I must stop him

from leaving.

There must

be a way.

Perhaps if you'd fully

disclosed yourself to N ietzsche,

you might have

engaged him.

Once you

gain his trust,

he might open up like a steamed clam.

I think I know

a way, Siggy.

I think I know a way.

Your documents and

receipts, Herr Professor.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Professor Nietzsche.

May I have a word

before you leave?

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