Nietzsche Against Dracula

The sore red light of logs smouldering in the grate reflects upon a pair of eyes. Below them a mouth smiles and the fire-glow stretches orange along a line of teeth. “To live alone one must be an animal or a god… or both: a philosopher.” The voice is deep and calm, like the Black Sea. “Greetings, Professor Nietzsche. I am Neculai, Count Dragulescu…” It is October 1888. In his lodgings in Turin the radical German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche pours out his thoughts in long, feverish days of writing. Committed to ‘revaluing all values’, book after iconoclastic book tumble from his pen. It is a torrent of ink that continues to pour even though he is almost completely neglected, his books unread. Nietzsche Against Dracula takes the small historical liberty of asking what if? What if Nietzsche, sick, poverty-stricken and dejected, found he had a hitherto unknown admirer – one who truly appreciated his challenging work? What if this would-be patron presented Nietzsche with an invitation to holiday at his estate in Transylvania? What if Nietzsche found himself dragged into a world of physical danger and desperate action unfamiliar since his experiences in the Franco-Prussian War? What if he was plunged into emotional turmoil by two beautiful women – one exemplifying culture and intellect; another sensuality and animal passions? What if Nietzsche found that his host – let us call him by his nickname, Dracula – had misunderstood his philosophy in ways he couldn’t have imagined? What if Nietzsche realised that the forceful opinions he had deliberated over with such care, and expressed in lovingly crafted eloquence, threatened to unleash a vortex of destruction? What would Nietzsche do?

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