On 14 January 1880, at the beginning of his most productive period, and only eight years prior to his collapse into madness, Nietzsche wrote to his friend Malwida von Meysenbug, complaining of his deteriorating health. He tells her that he hopes for the stroke that, he believes, will put an end to his suffering. “As regards torment and self-denial, my life during these past years can match that of any ascetic of any time; nevertheless, I have wrung from these years much in the way of purification and burnishing of the soul – and I no longer need religion or art as a means to that end” (Middleton 1969: 170–71). In the same letter he goes on to say that he is proud of the fact that he has done this work “of self-help” alone; and that he has moreover “given to many an indication of how to rise above themselves, how to attain equanimity and a right mind” (ibid.).

For those of us who think of Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) as the preeminent atheist philosopher of the nineteenth century – indeed, perhaps the pre-eminent atheist philosopher of all time – such claims should be startling. Self-transformation, purification, equanimity, a right mind: these are among the familiar goals of religion. And, indeed, in the letter Nietzsche himself says as much, even allowing that religion and art are the usual ways people accomplish such goals.