The Birth of Tragedy
{"WorkMasterId":5787,"WpPageId":271230,"ParentWpPageId":189661,"Slug":"the-birth-of-tragedy","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/friedrich-nietzsche/the-birth-of-tragedy/","RelativeUrl":"theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/friedrich-nietzsche/the-birth-of-tragedy/","HasFullText":true,"RawHtmlLength":430295,"CleanHtmlLength":374185,"Kicker":"Philosophy Work","Title":"The Birth of Tragedy","Deck":"Nietzsche interprets Greek tragedy through Apollonian form and Dionysian excess, making art a response to suffering and a critique of Socratic optimism.","BackLink":{"Text":"Back to Friedrich Nietzsche","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/friedrich-nietzsche/"},"AuthorCard":{"Label":"Author","Title":"Friedrich Nietzsche","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/friedrich-nietzsche/","MediaHref":"","ImageSrc":"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/friedrich-nietzsche-01-klassik-stoeving-portrait.jpg","ImageAlt":"Friedrich Nietzsche portrait by Hans Olde Stoewing","FilterTerra":"Western Europe","ClickText":"Friedrich Nietzsche","ClickHref":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/friedrich-nietzsche/","Copies":["1844 CE – 1900 CE","Röcken, Saxony, Prussia","German philosopher of genealogy, perspectivism, tragedy, value creation, nihilism, and the critique of Christianity whose work reshaped modern ethics, aesthetics, psychology, and continental philosophy."]},"ContextCards":[{"Label":"Period","Key":"Period:4","Title":"Modern History","DateText":"1800 CE – 1944 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-modern-history/"},{"Label":"Era","Key":"Era:11","Title":"Long 19th Century","DateText":"1870 CE – 1913 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-modern-history/philosophers-of-the-long-19th-century/"},{"Label":"Composition","Title":"1872 CE","Url":"","DateText":""}],"DateNote":"Published in 1872 CE and revised in 1886 with Attempt at Self-Criticism; visible revised-status note required.","GeoCards":[{"Label":"Region","Key":"Region:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita","Key":"TerraAvita:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita Region","Key":"TerraAvitaRegion:3"},{"Label":"Modern Country","Key":"Country:DEU:1"}],"OriginalTitle":"Die Geburt der Tragödie","Language":"German","DisciplineCards":[{"Label":"Primary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:aesthetics"},{"Label":"Secondary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:metaphysics"}],"Tradition":"Continental philosophy / Nietzschean critique","FullText":{"Title":"Full Text","Copy":"Public-domain full text from Project Gutenberg eBook #51356 .","Url":"","Label":"","Kicker":"","Cards":[]},"CoreThesis":["Nietzsche interprets Greek tragedy through Apollonian form and Dionysian excess, making art a response to suffering and a critique of Socratic optimism."],"Classification":{"AlternateTitles":"The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music","KeyConcepts":"Friedrich Nietzsche; perspectivism; genealogy; will to power; eternal recurrence; nihilism; value creation; master morality; slave morality; ressentiment; Dionysian; Apollonian; tragedy; death of God; Christianity; ascetic ideal; language; drives; body; science; morality; art; Zarathustra","Methodology":"Genealogy, aphorism, philology, cultural criticism, polemic, psychological diagnosis, literary-philosophical experiment, historical reconstruction, and critique of morality and religion.","Structure":"The page records an approved Nietzsche work with visible date, posthumous, unpublished, aphoristic, revised, embedded, or fragmentary notes where needed."},"Arguments":["Nietzsche interprets Greek tragedy through Apollonian form and Dionysian excess, making art a response to suffering and a critique of Socratic optimism."],"Influence":{"InfluencedBy":"Schopenhauer, Wagner, Heraclitus, Greek tragedy, Presocratic philosophy, Paul Ree, French moralists, philology, and nineteenth-century naturalism.","InfluenceOn":""},"Significance":["Included as one of the direct Nietzsche work pages approved for the Friedrich Nietzsche full-process update.","The work documents Nietzsche\u0027s influence on morality, nihilism, religion critique, aesthetics, language, psychology, genealogy, and continental philosophy."],"EvidenceNote":["Direct Nietzsche work page approved in the Friedrich Nietzsche update. The Will to Power, collected works, correspondence, notebooks, fragments, individual aphorisms, editorial compilations, modern translations, catalog rows, biographies, and scholarship remain evidence/Other Voices."],"MainSections":[{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Versions","BodyHtml":"\u003cdiv class=\"dz-philo__full-version-grid\"\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-version-card\"\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-provider\"\u003eProject Gutenberg\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ch3 class=\"dz-philo__full-version-title\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #51356\u003c/h3\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-meta\"\u003eHtmlText · Imported\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ca class=\"dz-philo__full-version-link\" href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51356\"\u003eOpen full version\u003c/a\u003e\n \u003c/article\u003e\n \u003c/div\u003e"},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Core Thesis","Paragraphs":["Nietzsche interprets Greek tragedy through Apollonian form and Dionysian excess, making art a response to suffering and a critique of Socratic optimism."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Classification","Fields":[{"Label":"Alternate Titles","Value":"The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music"},{"Label":"Key Concepts","Value":"Friedrich Nietzsche; perspectivism; genealogy; will to power; eternal recurrence; nihilism; value creation; master morality; slave morality; ressentiment; Dionysian; Apollonian; tragedy; death of God; Christianity; ascetic ideal; language; drives; body; science; morality; art; Zarathustra"},{"Label":"Methodology","Value":"Genealogy, aphorism, philology, cultural criticism, polemic, psychological diagnosis, literary-philosophical experiment, historical reconstruction, and critique of morality and religion."},{"Label":"Structure","Value":"The page records an approved Nietzsche work with visible date, posthumous, unpublished, aphoristic, revised, embedded, or fragmentary notes where needed."}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Arguments","Paragraphs":["Nietzsche interprets Greek tragedy through Apollonian form and Dionysian excess, making art a response to suffering and a critique of Socratic optimism."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Influence","Fields":[{"Label":"Influenced By","Value":"Schopenhauer, Wagner, Heraclitus, Greek tragedy, Presocratic philosophy, Paul Ree, French moralists, philology, and nineteenth-century naturalism."},{"Label":"Influence On","Value":"Heidegger, existentialism, Foucault, Deleuze, post-structuralism, psychoanalysis, literary modernism, genealogy, value theory, and modern continental philosophy."}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Significance","Paragraphs":["Included as one of the direct Nietzsche work pages approved for the Friedrich Nietzsche full-process update.","The work documents Nietzsche\u0027s influence on morality, nihilism, religion critique, aesthetics, language, psychology, genealogy, and continental philosophy."]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Evidence Note","Paragraphs":["Direct Nietzsche work page approved in the Friedrich Nietzsche update. The Will to Power, collected works, correspondence, notebooks, fragments, individual aphorisms, editorial compilations, modern translations, catalog rows, biographies, and scholarship remain evidence/Other Voices."]},{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Text","BodyHtml":"\u003cp class=\"dz-philo__section-copy dz-philo__full-text-source\"\u003ePublic-domain full text from \u003ca href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51356\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #51356\u003c/a\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-text-body\"\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"figcenter\" style=\"width: 500px;\"\u003e\r\n\u003cimg alt=\"\" src=\"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/gutenberg-the-birth-of-tragedy-cover.jpg\" width=\"500\" id=\"img_images_cover.jpg\"\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eTHE\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch1\u003eBIRTH OF TRAGEDY\u003c/h1\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eOR\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch2\u003e \u003ci\u003eHELLENISM AND PESSIMISM\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003ch3\u003eBy\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003ch2\u003eFRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eTRANSLATED BY\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eWM. A. HAUSSMANN, PH.D.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"figcenter\" style=\"width: 150px;\"\u003e\r\n\u003cimg alt=\"\" src=\"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/gutenberg-the-birth-of-tragedy-ill-niet.jpg\" width=\"150\" id=\"img_images_ill_niet.jpg\"\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eThe Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch5\u003eThe First Complete and Authorised English Translation\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eEdited by Dr Oscar Levy\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eVolume One\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch5\u003eT.N. FOULIS\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\u003ch5\u003e13 \u0026amp; 15 FREDERICK STREET\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\u003ch5\u003eEDINBURGH: AND LONDON\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\u003ch5\u003e1910\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"full\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003e\r\n\u003cspan class=\"caption\"\u003eCONTENTS.\u003c/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003ca href=\"#INTRODUCTION1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003eBIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003ca href=\"#AN_ATTEMPT_AT_SELF-CRITICISM\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003eAN ATTEMPT AT SELF-CRITICISM\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003ca href=\"#FOREWORD_TO_RICHARD_WAGNER\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003eFOREWORD TO RICHARD WAGNER\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003ca href=\"#THE_BIRTH_OF_TRAGEDY\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003eTHE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"tb\"\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e \u003ca id=\"INTRODUCTION1\"\u003eINTRODUCTION.\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_1_1\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_1_1\"\u003e[1]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFrederick Nietzsche was born at Röcken near Lützen, in the Prussian\r\nprovince of Saxony, on the 15th of October 1844, at 10 a.m. The day\r\nhappened to be the anniversary of the birth of Frederick-William IV.,\r\nthen King of Prussia, and the peal of the local church-bells which was\r\nintended to celebrate this event, was, by a happy coincidence, just\r\ntimed to greet my brother on his entrance into the world. In 1841,\r\nat the time when our father was tutor to the Altenburg Princesses,\r\nTheresa of Saxe-Altenburg, Elizabeth, Grand Duchess of Olden-burg, and\r\nAlexandra, Grand Duchess Constantine of Russia, he had had the honour\r\nof being presented to his witty and pious sovereign. The meeting seems\r\nto have impressed both parties very favourably; for, very shortly\r\nafter it had taken place, our father received his living at Röcken \"by\r\nsupreme command.\" His joy may well be imagined, therefore, when a first\r\nson was born to him on his beloved\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_i\"\u003e[Pg i]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e and august patron\u0027s birthday, and\r\nat the christening ceremony he spoke as follows:—\"Thou blessed month\r\nof October!—for many years the most decisive events in my life have\r\noccurred within thy thirty-one days, and now I celebrate the greatest\r\nand most glorious of them all by baptising my little boy! O blissful\r\nmoment! O exquisite festival! O unspeakably holy duty! In the Lord\u0027s\r\nname I bless thee!—With all my heart I utter these words: Bring me\r\nthis, my beloved child, that I may consecrate it unto the Lord. My son,\r\nFrederick William, thus shalt thou be named on earth, as a memento of\r\nmy royal benefactor on whose birthday thou wast born!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOur father was thirty-one years of age, and our mother not quite\r\nnineteen, when my brother was born. Our mother, who was the daughter\r\nof a clergyman, was good-looking and healthy, and was one of a very\r\nlarge family of sons and daughters. Our paternal grandparents, the\r\nRev. Oehler and his wife, in Pobles, were typically healthy people.\r\nStrength, robustness, lively dispositions, and a cheerful outlook on\r\nlife, were among the qualities which every one was pleased to observe\r\nin them. Our grandfather Oehler was a bright, clever man, and quite\r\nthe old style of comfortable country parson, who thought it no sin to\r\ngo hunting. He scarcely had a day\u0027s illness in his life, and would\r\ncertainly not have met with his end as early as he did—that is to say,\r\nbefore his seventieth year—if his careless disregard of all caution,\r\nwhere his health was concerned, had not led to his catching a severe\r\nand fatal cold. In regard to our\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_ii\"\u003e[Pg ii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e grand-mother Oehler, who died in her\r\neighty-second year, all that can be said is, that if all German women\r\nwere possessed of the health she enjoyed, the German nation would excel\r\nall others from the standpoint of vitality. She bore our grandfather\r\neleven children; gave each of them the breast for nearly the whole of\r\nits first year, and reared them all It is said that the sight of these\r\neleven children, at ages varying from nineteen years to one month, with\r\ntheir powerful build, rosy cheeks, beaming eyes, and wealth of curly\r\nlocks, provoked the admiration of all visitors. Of course, despite\r\ntheir extraordinarily good health, the life of this family was not\r\nby any means all sunshine. Each of the children was very spirited,\r\nwilful, and obstinate, and it was therefore no simple matter to keep\r\nthem in order. Moreover, though they always showed the utmost respect\r\nand most implicit obedience to their parents—even as middle-aged\r\nmen and women—misunderstandings between themselves were of constant\r\noccurrence. Our Oehler grandparents were fairly well-to-do; for our\r\ngrandmother hailed from a very old family, who had been extensive\r\nland-owners in the neighbourhood of Zeitz for centuries, and her father\r\nowned the baronial estate of Wehlitz and a magnificent seat near Zeitz\r\nin Pacht. When she married, her father gave her carriages and horses,\r\na coachman, a cook, and a kitchenmaid, which for the wife of a German\r\nminister was then, and is still, something quite exceptional. As a\r\nresult of the wars in the beginning of the nineteenth century, however,\r\nour great-grandfather lost the greater part of his property.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_iii\"\u003e[Pg iii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOur father\u0027s family was also in fairly comfortable circumstances,\r\nand likewise very large. Our grandfather Dr. Nietzsche (D.D. and\r\nSuperintendent) married twice, and had in all twelve children, of whom\r\nthree died young. Our grandfather on this side, whom I never knew,\r\nmust certainly have been a distinguished, dignified, very learned\r\nand reserved man; his second wife—our beloved grandmother—was an\r\nactive-minded, intelligent, and exceptionally good-natured woman.\r\nThe whole of our father\u0027s family, which I only got to know when they\r\nwere very advanced in years, were remarkable for their great power of\r\nself-control, their lively interest in intellectual matters, and a\r\nstrong sense of family unity, which manifested itself both in their\r\nsplendid readiness to help one another and in their very excellent\r\nrelations with each other. Our father was the youngest son, and, thanks\r\nto his uncommonly lovable disposition, together with other gifts, which\r\nonly tended to become more marked as he grew older, he was quite the\r\nfavourite of the family. Blessed with a thoroughly sound constitution,\r\nas all averred who knew him at the convent-school in Rossleben, at\r\nthe University, or later at the ducal court of Altenburg, he was tall\r\nand slender, possessed an undoubted gift for poetry and real musical\r\ntalent, and was moreover a man of delicate sensibilities, full of\r\nconsideration for his whole family, and distinguished in his manners.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eMy brother often refers to his Polish descent, and in later years\r\nhe even instituted research-work with the view of establishing it,\r\nwhich met with partial success. I know nothing definite concerning\r\nthese\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_iv\"\u003e[Pg iv]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e investigations, because a large number of valuable documents\r\nwere unfortunately destroyed after his breakdown in Turin. The family\r\ntradition was that a certain Polish nobleman Nicki (pronounced Nietzky)\r\nhad obtained the special favour of Augustus the Strong, King of\r\nPoland, and had received the rank of Earl from him. When, however,\r\nStanislas Leszcysski the Pole became king, our supposed ancestor became\r\ninvolved in a conspiracy in favour of the Saxons and Protestants. He\r\nwas sentenced to death; but, taking flight, according to the evidence\r\nof the documents, he was ultimately befriended by a certain Earl of\r\nBrühl, who gave him a small post in an obscure little provincial town.\r\nOccasionally our aged aunts would speak of our great-grandfather\r\nNietzsche, who was said to have died in his ninety-first year, and\r\nwords always seemed to fail them when they attempted to describe his\r\nhandsome appearance, good breeding, and vigour. Our ancestors, both on\r\nthe Nietzsche and the Oehler side, were very long-lived. Of the four\r\npairs of great-grandparents, one great-grandfather reached the age of\r\nninety, five great-grandmothers and-fathers died between eighty-two and\r\neighty-six years of age, and two only failed to reach their seventieth\r\nyear.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe sorrow which hung as a cloud over our branch of the family\r\nwas our father\u0027s death, as the result of a heavy fall, at the age\r\nof thirty-eight. One night, upon leaving some friends whom he had\r\naccompanied home, he was met at the door of the vicarage by our little\r\ndog. The little animal must have got between his feet, for he stumbled\r\nand fell\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_v\"\u003e[Pg v]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e backwards down seven stone steps on to the paving-stones\r\nof the vicarage courtyard. As a result of this fall, he was laid up\r\nwith concussion of the brain, and, after a lingering illness, which\r\nlasted eleven months, he died on the 30th of July 1849. The early\r\ndeath of our beloved and highly-gifted father spread gloom over\r\nthe whole of our childhood. In 1850 our mother withdrew with us to\r\nNaumburg on the Saale, where she took up her abode with our widowed\r\ngrandmother Nietzsche; and there she brought us up with Spartan\r\nseverity and simplicity, which, besides being typical of the period,\r\nwas quite \u003ci\u003ede rigeur\u003c/i\u003e in her family. Of course, Grand-mamma Nietzsche\r\nhelped somewhat to temper her daughter-in-law\u0027s severity, and in this\r\nrespect our Oehler grandparents, who were less rigorous with us,\r\ntheir eldest grandchildren, than with their own children, were also\r\nvery influential. Grandfather Oehler was the first who seems to have\r\nrecognised the extraordinary talents of his eldest grandchild.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFrom his earliest childhood upwards, my brother was always strong\r\nand healthy; he often declared that he must have been taken for a\r\npeasant-boy throughout his childhood and youth, as he was so plump,\r\nbrown, and rosy. The thick fair hair which fell picturesquely over his\r\nshoulders tended somewhat to modify his robust appearance. Had he not\r\npossessed those wonderfully beautiful, large, and expressive eyes,\r\nhowever, and had he not been so very ceremonious in his manner, neither\r\nhis teachers nor his relatives would ever have noticed anything at all\r\nremarkable about the boy; for he was both modest and reserved.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_vi\"\u003e[Pg vi]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHe received his early schooling at a preparatory school, and later\r\nat a grammar school in Naumburg. In the autumn of 1858, when he was\r\nfourteen years of age, he entered the Pforta school, so famous for the\r\nscholars it has produced. There, too, very severe discipline prevailed,\r\nand much was exacted from the pupils, with the view of inuring them\r\nto great mental and physical exertions. Thus, if my brother seems\r\nto lay particular stress upon the value of rigorous training, free\r\nfrom all sentimentality, it should be remembered that he speaks from\r\nexperience in this respect. At Pforta he followed the regular school\r\ncourse, and he did not enter a university until the comparatively late\r\nage of twenty. His extraordinary gifts manifested themselves chiefly\r\nin his independent and private studies and artistic efforts. As a boy\r\nhis musical talent had already been so noticeable, that he himself\r\nand other competent judges were doubtful as to whether he ought not\r\nperhaps to devote himself altogether to music. It is, however, worth\r\nnoting that everything he did in his later years, whether in Latin,\r\nGreek, or German work, bore the stamp of perfection—subject of course\r\nto the limitation imposed upon him by his years. His talents came very\r\nsuddenly to the fore, because he had allowed them to grow for such a\r\nlong time in concealment. His very first performance in philology,\r\nexecuted while he was a student under Ritschl, the famous philologist,\r\nwas also typical of him in this respect, seeing that it was ordered\r\nto be printed for the \u003ci\u003eRheinische Museum.\u003c/i\u003e Of course this was done\r\namid general and grave expressions of doubt; for, as Dr. Ritschl often\r\ndeclared,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_vii\"\u003e[Pg vii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e it was an unheard-of occurrence for a student in his third\r\nterm to prepare such an excellent treatise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBeing a great lover of out-door exercise, such as swimming, skating,\r\nand walking, he developed into a very sturdy lad. Rohde gives the\r\nfollowing description of him as a student: with his healthy complexion,\r\nhis outward and inner cleanliness, his austere chastity and his solemn\r\naspect, he was the image of that delightful youth described by Adalbert\r\nStifter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThough as a child he was always rather serious, as a lad and a man he\r\nwas ever inclined to see the humorous side of things, while his whole\r\nbeing, and everything he said or did, was permeated by an extraordinary\r\nharmony. He belonged to the very few who could control even a bad mood\r\nand conceal it from others. All his friends are unanimous in their\r\npraise of his exceptional evenness of temper and behaviour, and his\r\nwarm, hearty, and pleasant laugh that seemed to come from the very\r\ndepths of his benevolent and affectionate nature. In him it might\r\ntherefore be said, nature had produced a being who in body and spirit\r\nwas a harmonious whole: his unusual intellect was fully in keeping with\r\nhis uncommon bodily strength.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe only abnormal thing about him, and something which we both\r\ninherited from our father, was short-sightedness, and this was\r\nvery much aggravated in my brother\u0027s case, even in his earliest\r\nschooldays, owing to that indescribable anxiety to learn which always\r\ncharacterised him. When one listens to accounts given by his friends\r\nand schoolfellows, one is startled by the multiplicity of his studies\r\neven in his schooldays.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_viii\"\u003e[Pg viii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn the autumn of 1864, he began his university life in Bonn, and\r\nstudied philology and theology; at the end of six months he gave up\r\ntheology, and in the autumn of 1865 followed his famous teacher Ritschl\r\nto the University of Leipzig. There he became an ardent philologist,\r\nand diligently sought to acquire a masterly grasp of this branch of\r\nknowledge. But in this respect it would be unfair to forget that the\r\nschool of Pforta, with its staff of excellent teachers—scholars\r\nthat would have adorned the chairs of any University—had already\r\nafforded the best of preparatory trainings to any one intending to\r\ntake up philology as a study, more particularly as it gave all pupils\r\nample scope to indulge any individual tastes they might have for any\r\nparticular branch of ancient history. The last important Latin thesis\r\nwhich my brother wrote for the Landes-Schule, Pforta, dealt with\r\nthe Megarian poet Theognis, and it was in the rôle of a lecturer on\r\nthis very subject that, on the 18th January 1866, he made his \u003ci\u003efirst\r\nappearance in public\u003c/i\u003e before the philological society he had helped to\r\nfound in Leipzig. The paper he read disclosed his investigations on\r\nthe subject of Theognis the moralist and aristocrat, who, as is well\r\nknown, described and dismissed the plebeians of his time in terms of\r\nthe heartiest contempt The aristocratic ideal, which was always so\r\ndear to my brother, thus revealed itself for the first time. Moreover,\r\ncuriously enough, it was precisely \u003ci\u003ethis\u003c/i\u003e scientific thesis which was\r\nthe cause of Ritschl\u0027s recognition of my brother and fondness for him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe whole of his Leipzig days proved of the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_ix\"\u003e[Pg ix]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e utmost importance to my\r\nbrother\u0027s career. There he was plunged into the very midst of a torrent\r\nof intellectual influences which found an impressionable medium in\r\nthe fiery youth, and to which he eagerly made himself accessible.\r\nHe did not, however, forget to discriminate among them, but tested\r\nand criticised the currents of thought he encountered, and selected\r\naccordingly. It is certainly of great importance to ascertain what\r\nthose influences precisely were to which he yielded, and how long\r\nthey maintained their sway over him, and it is likewise necessary to\r\ndiscover exactly when the matured mind threw off these fetters in order\r\nto work out its own salvation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe influences that exercised power over him in those days may be\r\ndescribed in the three following terms: Hellenism, Schopenhauer,\r\nWagner. His love of Hellenism certainly led him to philology; but, as\r\na matter of fact, what concerned him most was to obtain a wide view\r\nof things in general, and this he hoped to derive from that science;\r\nphilology in itself, with his splendid method and thorough way of going\r\nto work, served him only as a means to an end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf Hellenism was the first strong influence which already in Pforta\r\nobtained a sway over my brother, in the winter of 1865-66, a completely\r\nnew, and therefore somewhat subversive, influence was introduced into\r\nhis life with Schopenhauer\u0027s philosophy. When he reached Leipzig in\r\nthe autumn of 1865, he was very downcast; for the experiences that\r\nhad befallen him during his one year of student life in Bonn had\r\ndeeply depressed him. He had\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_x\"\u003e[Pg x]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e sought at first to adapt himself to his\r\nsurroundings there, with the hope of ultimately elevating them to his\r\nlofty views on things; but both these efforts proved vain, and now he\r\nhad come to Leipzig with the purpose of framing his own manner of life.\r\nIt can easily be imagined how the first reading of Schopenhauer\u0027s \u003ci\u003eThe\r\nWorld as Will and Idea\u003c/i\u003e worked upon this man, still stinging from the\r\nbitterest experiences and disappointments. He writes: \"Here I saw a\r\nmirror in which I espied the world, life, and my own nature depicted\r\nwith frightful grandeur.\" As my brother, from his very earliest\r\nchildhood, had always missed both the parent and the educator through\r\nour father\u0027s untimely death, he began to regard Schopenhauer with\r\nalmost filial love and respect. He did not venerate him quite as other\r\nmen did; Schopenhauer\u0027s \u003ci\u003epersonality\u003c/i\u003e was what attracted and enchanted\r\nhim. From the first he was never blind to the faults in his master\u0027s\r\nsystem, and in proof of this we have only to refer to an essay he\r\nwrote in the autumn of 1867, which actually contains a criticism of\r\nSchopenhauer\u0027s philosophy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNow, in the autumn of 1865, to these two influences, Hellenism and\r\nSchopenhauer, a third influence was added—one which was to prove\r\nthe strongest ever exercised over my brother—and it began with his\r\npersonal introduction to Richard Wagner. He was introduced to Wagner by\r\nthe latter\u0027s sister, Frau Professor Brockhaus, and his description of\r\ntheir first meeting, contained in a letter to Erwin Rohde, is really\r\nmost affecting. For years, that is to say, from the time Billow\u0027s\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xi\"\u003e[Pg xi]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\narrangement of \u003ci\u003eTristan and Isolde\u003c/i\u003e for the pianoforte, had appeared,\r\nhe had already been a passionate admirer of Wagner\u0027s music; but now\r\nthat the artist himself entered upon the scene of his life, with the\r\nwhole fascinating strength of his strong will, my brother felt that he\r\nwas in the presence of a being whom he, of all modern men, resembled\r\nmost in regard to force of character.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAgain, in the case of Richard Wagner, my brother, from the first, laid\r\nthe utmost stress upon the man\u0027s personality, and could only regard\r\nhis works and views as an expression of the artist\u0027s whole being,\r\ndespite the fact that he by no means understood every one of those\r\nworks at that time. My brother was the first who ever manifested such\r\nenthusiastic affection for Schopenhauer and Wagner, and he was also the\r\nfirst of that numerous band of young followers who ultimately inscribed\r\nthe two great names upon their banner. Whether Schopenhauer and Wagner\r\never really corresponded to the glorified pictures my brother painted\r\nof them, both in his letters and other writings, is a question which we\r\ncan no longer answer in the affirmative. Perhaps what he saw in them\r\nwas only what he himself wished to be some day.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe amount of work my brother succeeded in accomplishing, during his\r\nstudent days, really seems almost incredible. When we examine his\r\nrecord for the years 1865-67, we can scarcely believe it refers to only\r\ntwo years\u0027 industry, for at a guess no one would hesitate to suggest\r\nfour years at least. But in those days, as he himself\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xii\"\u003e[Pg xii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e declares, he\r\nstill possessed the constitution of a bear. He knew neither what\r\nheadaches nor indigestion meant, and, despite his short sight, his eyes\r\nwere able to endure the greatest strain without giving him the smallest\r\ntrouble. That is why, regardless of seriously interrupting his studies,\r\nhe was so glad at the thought of becoming a soldier in the forthcoming\r\nautumn of 1867; for he was particularly anxious to discover some means\r\nof employing his bodily strength.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHe discharged his duties as a soldier with the utmost mental and\r\nphysical freshness, was the crack rider among the recruits of his year,\r\nand was sincerely sorry when, owing to an accident, he was compelled to\r\nleave the colours before the completion of his service. As a result of\r\nthis accident he had his first dangerous illness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhile mounting his horse one day, the beast, which was an uncommonly\r\nrestive one, suddenly reared, and, causing him to strike his chest\r\nsharply against the pommel of the saddle, threw him to the ground. My\r\nbrother then made a second attempt to mount, and succeeded this time,\r\nnotwithstanding the fact that he had severely sprained and torn two\r\nmuscles in his chest, and had seriously bruised the adjacent ribs. For\r\na whole day he did his utmost to pay no heed to the injury, and to\r\novercome the pain it caused him; but in the end he only swooned, and a\r\ndangerously acute inflammation of the injured tissues was the result.\r\nUltimately he was obliged to consult the famous specialist, Professor\r\nVolkmann, in Halle, who quickly put him right.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xiii\"\u003e[Pg xiii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn October 1868, my brother returned to his studies in Leipzig with\r\ndouble joy. These were his plans: to get his doctor\u0027s degree as soon as\r\npossible; to proceed to Paris, Italy, and Greece, make a lengthy stay\r\nin each place, and then to return to Leipzig in order to settle there\r\nas a privat docent. All these plans were, however, suddenly frustrated\r\nowing to his premature call to the University of Bale, where he was\r\ninvited to assume the duties of professor. Some of the philological\r\nessays he had written in his student days, and which were published\r\nby the \u003ci\u003eRheinische Museum,\u003c/i\u003e had attracted the attention of the\r\nEducational Board at Bale. Ratsherr Wilhelm Vischer, as representing\r\nthis body, appealed to Ritschl for fuller information. Now Ritschl,\r\nwho had early recognised my brother\u0027s extraordinary talents, must have\r\nwritten a letter of such enthusiastic praise (\"Nietzsche is a genius:\r\nhe can do whatever he chooses to put his mind to\"), that one of the\r\nmore cautious members of the council is said to have observed: \"If\r\nthe proposed candidate be really such a genius, then it were better\r\ndid we not appoint him; for, in any case, he would only stay a short\r\ntime at the little University of Bale.\" My brother ultimately accepted\r\nthe appointment, and, in view of his published philological works,\r\nhe was immediately granted the doctor\u0027s degree by the University of\r\nLeipzig. He was twenty-four years and six months old when he took up\r\nhis position as professor in Bale,—and it was with a heavy heart that\r\nhe proceeded there, for he knew \"the golden\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xiv\"\u003e[Pg xiv]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e period of untrammelled\r\nactivity\" must cease. He was, however, inspired by the deep wish of\r\nbeing able \"to transfer to his pupils some of that Schopenhauerian\r\nearnestness which is stamped on the brow of the sublime man.\" \"I\r\nshould like to be something more than a mere trainer of capable\r\nphilologists: the present generation of teachers, the care of the\r\ngrowing broods,—all this is in my mind. If we must live, let us at\r\nleast do so in such wise that others may bless our life once we have\r\nbeen peacefully delivered from its toils.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhen I look back upon that month of May 1869, and ask both of friends\r\nand of myself, what the figure of this youthful University professor\r\nof four-and-twenty meant to the world at that time, the reply is\r\nnaturally, in the first place: that he was one of Ritschl\u0027s best\r\npupils; secondly, that he was an exceptionally capable exponent of\r\nclassical antiquity with a brilliant career before him; and thirdly,\r\nthat he was a passionate adorer of Wagner and Schopenhauer. But no one\r\nhas any idea of my brother\u0027s independent attitude to the science he\r\nhad selected, to his teachers and to his ideals, and he deceived both\r\nhimself and us when he passed as a \"disciple\" who really shared all the\r\nviews of his respected master.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOn the 28th May 1869, my brother delivered his inaugural address\r\nat Bale University, and it is said to have deeply impressed the\r\nauthorities. The subject of the address was \"Homer and Classical\r\nPhilology.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eMusing deeply, the worthy councillors and\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xv\"\u003e[Pg xv]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e professors walked homeward.\r\nWhat had they just heard? A young scholar discussing the very\r\njustification of his own science in a cool and philosophically critical\r\nspirit! A man able to impart so much artistic glamour to his subject,\r\nthat the once stale and arid study of philology suddenly struck\r\nthem—and they were certainly not impressionable men—as the messenger\r\nof the gods: \"and just as the Muses descended upon the dull and\r\ntormented Boeotian peasants, so philology comes into a world full of\r\ngloomy colours and pictures, full of the deepest, most incurable woes,\r\nand speaks to men comfortingly of the beautiful and brilliant godlike\r\nfigure of a distant, blue, and happy fairyland.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"We have indeed got hold of a rare bird, Herr Ratsherr,\" said one of\r\nthese gentlemen to his companion, and the latter heartily agreed, for\r\nmy brother\u0027s appointment had been chiefly his doing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eEven in Leipzig, it was reported that Jacob Burckhardt had said:\r\n\"Nietzsche is as much an artist as a scholar.\" Privy-Councillor\r\nRitschl told me of this himself, and then he added, with a smile: \"I\r\nalways said so; he can make his scientific discourses as palpitatingly\r\ninteresting as a French novelist his novels.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Homer and Classical Philology\"—my brother\u0027s inaugural address at\r\nthe University—was by no means the first literary attempt he had\r\nmade; for we have already seen that he had had papers published by the\r\n\u003ci\u003eRheinische Museum\u003c/i\u003e; still, this particular discourse is important,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xvi\"\u003e[Pg xvi]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nseeing that it practically contains the programme of many other\r\nsubsequent essays. I must, however, emphasise this fact here, that\r\nneither \"Homer and Classical Philology,\" nor \u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nrepresents a beginning in my brother\u0027s career. It is really surprising\r\nto see how very soon he actually began grappling with the questions\r\nwhich were to prove the problems of his life. If a beginning to his\r\nintellectual development be sought at all, then it must be traced\r\nto the years 1865-67 in Leipzig. \u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy,\u003c/i\u003e his maiden\r\nattempt at book-writing, with which he began his twenty-eighth year,\r\nis the last link of a long chain of developments, and the first fruit\r\nthat was a long time coming to maturity. Nietzsche\u0027s was a polyphonic\r\nnature, in which the most different and apparently most antagonistic\r\ntalents had come together. Philosophy, art, and science—in the form\r\nof philology, then—each certainly possessed a part of him. The\r\nmost wonderful feature—perhaps it might even be called the real\r\nNietzschean feature—of this versatile creature, was the fact that\r\nno eternal strife resulted from the juxtaposition of these inimical\r\ntraits, that not one of them strove to dislodge, or to get the upper\r\nhand of, the others. When Nietzsche renounced the musical career, in\r\norder to devote himself to philology, and gave himself up to the most\r\nstrenuous study, he did not find it essential completely to suppress\r\nhis other tendencies: as before, he continued both to compose and\r\nderive pleasure from music, and\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xvii\"\u003e[Pg xvii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e even studied counterpoint somewhat\r\nseriously. Moreover, during his years at Leipzig, when he consciously\r\ngave himself up to philological research, he began to engross himself\r\nin Schopenhauer, and was thereby won by philosophy for ever. Everything\r\nthat could find room took up its abode in him, and these juxtaposed\r\nfactors, far from interfering with one another\u0027s existence, were rather\r\nmutually fertilising and stimulating. All those who have read the first\r\nvolume of the biography with attention must have been struck with the\r\nperfect way in which the various impulses in his nature combined in\r\nthe end to form one general torrent, and how this flowed with ever\r\ngreater force in the direction of \u003ci\u003ea single goal.\u003c/i\u003e Thus science, art,\r\nand philosophy developed and became ever more closely related in him,\r\nuntil, in \u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy,\u003c/i\u003e they brought forth a \"centaur,\" that\r\nis to say, a work which would have been an impossible achievement to\r\na man with only a single, special talent. This polyphony of different\r\ntalents, all coming to utterance together and producing the richest\r\nand boldest of harmonies, is the fundamental feature not only of\r\nNietzsche\u0027s early days, but of his whole development. It is once again\r\nthe artist, philosopher, and man of science, who as one man in later\r\nyears, after many wanderings, recantations, and revulsions of feeling,\r\nproduces that other and rarer Centaur of highest rank—\u003ci\u003eZarathustra\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy\u003c/i\u003e requires perhaps a little explaining—more\r\nparticularly as we have now\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xviii\"\u003e[Pg xviii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e ceased to use either Schopenhauerian or\r\nWagnerian terms of expression. And it was for this reason that five\r\nyears after its appearance, my brother wrote an introduction to it,\r\nin which he very plainly expresses his doubts concerning the views it\r\ncontains, and the manner in which they are presented. The kernel of its\r\nthought he always recognised as perfectly correct; and all he deplored\r\nin later days was that he had spoiled the grand problem of Hellenism,\r\nas he understood it, by adulterating it with ingredients taken from the\r\nworld of most modern ideas. As time went on, he grew ever more and more\r\nanxious to define the deep meaning of this book with greater precision\r\nand clearness. A very good elucidation of its aims, which unfortunately\r\nwas never published, appears among his notes of the year 1886, and is\r\nas follows:—\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Concerning \u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy.\u003c/i\u003e—A book consisting of mere\r\nexperiences relating to pleasurable and unpleasurable æsthetic states,\r\nwith a metaphysico-artistic background. At the same time the confession\r\nof a romanticist \u003ci\u003ethe sufferer feels the deepest longing for beauty—he\r\nbegets it\u003c/i\u003e; finally, a product of youth, full of youthful courage and\r\nmelancholy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Fundamental psychological experiences: the word \u0027Apollonian\u0027 stands\r\nfor that state of rapt repose in the presence of a visionary world,\r\nin the presence of the world of \u003ci\u003ebeautiful appearance\u003c/i\u003e designed as a\r\ndeliverance from \u003ci\u003ebecoming\u003c/i\u003e; the word \u003ci\u003eDionysos,\u003c/i\u003e on the other hand,\r\nstands for strenuous becoming, grown self-conscious, in the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xix\"\u003e[Pg xix]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e form\r\nof the rampant voluptuousness of the creator, who is also perfectly\r\nconscious of the violent anger of the destroyer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"The antagonism of these two attitudes and the \u003ci\u003edesires\u003c/i\u003e that underlie\r\nthem. The first-named would have the vision it conjures up \u003ci\u003eeternal\u003c/i\u003e:\r\nin its light man must be quiescent, apathetic, peaceful, healed, and\r\non friendly terms with himself and all existence; the second strives\r\nafter creation, after the voluptuousness of wilful creation, \u003ci\u003ei.e.\u003c/i\u003e\r\nconstructing and destroying. Creation felt and explained as an instinct\r\nwould be merely the unremitting inventive action of a dissatisfied\r\nbeing, overflowing with wealth and living at high tension and high\r\npressure,—of a God who would overcome the sorrows of existence by\r\nmeans only of continual changes and transformations,—appearance as a\r\ntransient and momentary deliverance; the world as an apparent sequence\r\nof godlike visions and deliverances.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"This metaphysico-artistic attitude is opposed to Schopenhauer\u0027s\r\none-sided view which values art, not from the artist\u0027s standpoint but\r\nfrom the spectator\u0027s, because it brings salvation and deliverance\r\nby means of the joy produced by unreal as opposed to the existing\r\nor the real (the experience only of him who is suffering and is in\r\ndespair owing to himself and everything existing).—Deliverance in\r\nthe \u003ci\u003eform\u003c/i\u003e and its eternity (just as Plato may have pictured it, save\r\nthat he rejoiced in a complete subordination of all too excitable\r\nsensibilities, even in the idea itself). To this is opposed the second\r\npoint of view—art regarded\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xx\"\u003e[Pg xx]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e as a phenomenon of the artist, above all\r\nof the musician; the torture of being obliged to create, as a Dionysian\r\ninstinct.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Tragic art, rich in both attitudes, represents the reconciliation of\r\nApollo and Dionysos. Appearance is given the greatest importance by\r\nDionysos; and yet it will be denied and cheerfully denied. This is\r\ndirected against Schopenhauer\u0027s teaching of \u003ci\u003eResignation\u003c/i\u003e as the tragic\r\nattitude towards the world.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Against Wagner\u0027s theory that music is a means and drama an end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"A desire for tragic myth (for religion and even pessimistic religion)\r\nas for a forcing frame in which certain plants flourish.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Mistrust of science, although its ephemerally soothing optimism be\r\nstrongly felt; the \u0027serenity\u0027 of the theoretical man.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Deep antagonism to Christianity. Why? The degeneration of the Germanic\r\nspirit is ascribed to its influence.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Any justification of the world can only be an \u003ci\u003eæsthetic\u003c/i\u003e one. Profound\r\nsuspicions about morality (—it is part and parcel of the world of\r\nappearance).\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"The happiness of existence is only possible as the happiness derived\r\nfrom appearance. (\u003ci\u003e\u0027Being\u0027 is a fiction invented by those who suffer\r\nfrom becoming\u003c/i\u003e.)\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Happiness in becoming is possible only in the \u003ci\u003eannihilation\u003c/i\u003e of\r\nthe real, of the \u0027existing,\u0027 of the beautifully visionary,—in the\r\npessimistic dissipation of illusions:—with the annihilation\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xxi\"\u003e[Pg xxi]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of\r\nthe most beautiful phenomena in the world of appearance, Dionysian\r\nhappiness reaches its zenith.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy\u003c/i\u003e is really only a portion of a much greater work\r\non Hellenism, which my brother had always had in view from the time of\r\nhis student days. But even the portion it represents was originally\r\ndesigned upon a much larger scale than the present one; the reason\r\nprobably being, that Nietzsche desired only to be of service to Wagner.\r\nWhen a certain portion of the projected work on Hellenism was ready\r\nand had received the title \u003ci\u003eGreek Cheerfulness,\u003c/i\u003e my brother happened\r\nto call upon Wagner at Tribschen in April 1871, and found him very\r\nlow-spirited in regard to the mission of his life. My brother was very\r\nanxious to take some decisive step to help him, and, laying the plans\r\nof his great work on Greece aside, he selected a small portion from\r\nthe already completed manuscript—a portion dealing with one distinct\r\nside of Hellenism,—to wit, its tragic art. He then associated Wagner\u0027s\r\nmusic with it and the name Dionysos, and thus took the first step\r\ntowards that world-historical view through which we have since grown\r\naccustomed to regard Wagner.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFrom the dates of the various notes relating to it, \u003ci\u003eThe Birth of\r\nTragedy\u003c/i\u003e must have been written between the autumn of 1869 and November\r\n1871—a period during which \"a mass of æsthetic questions and answers\"\r\nwas fermenting in Nietzsche\u0027s mind. It was first published in January\r\n1872 by E. W. Fritsch, in Leipzig,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_xxii\"\u003e[Pg xxii]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e under the title \u003ci\u003eThe Birth of\r\nTragedy out of the Spirit of Music.\u003c/i\u003e Later on the title was changed to\r\n\u003ci\u003eThe Birth of Tragedy, or Hellenism and Pessimism.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 55%; font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003eELIZABETH FORSTER-NIETZSCHE.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003eWEIMAR\u003c/span\u003e, \u003ci\u003eSeptember\u003c/i\u003e 1905.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_1_1\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_1_1\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[1]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e This Introduction by E. Förster-Nietzsche, which appears\r\nin the front of the first volume of Naumann\u0027s Pocket Edition of\r\nNietzsche, has been translated and arranged by Mr. A. M. Ludovici.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"chap\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_1\"\u003e[Pg 1]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e \u003ca id=\"AN_ATTEMPT_AT_SELF-CRITICISM\"\u003eAN ATTEMPT AT SELF-CRITICISM.\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eI.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhatever may lie at the bottom of this doubtful book must be a\r\nquestion of the first rank and attractiveness, moreover a deeply\r\npersonal question,—in proof thereof observe the time in which it\r\noriginated, \u003ci\u003ein spite\u003c/i\u003e of which it originated, the exciting period\r\nof the Franco-German war of 1870-71. While the thunder of the battle\r\nof Wörth rolled over Europe, the ruminator and riddle-lover, who had\r\nto be the parent of this book, sat somewhere in a nook of the Alps,\r\nlost in riddles and ruminations, consequently very much concerned and\r\nunconcerned at the same time, and wrote down his meditations on the\r\n\u003ci\u003eGreeks,\u003c/i\u003e—the kernel of the curious and almost inaccessible book, to\r\nwhich this belated prologue (or epilogue) is to be devoted. A few weeks\r\nlater: and he found himself under the walls of Metz, still wrestling\r\nwith the notes of interrogation he had set down concerning the alleged\r\n\"cheerfulness\" of the Greeks and of Greek art; till at last, in that\r\nmonth of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_2\"\u003e[Pg 2]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e deep suspense, when peace was debated at Versailles, he too\r\nattained to peace with himself, and, slowly recovering from a disease\r\nbrought home from the field, made up his mind definitely regarding the\r\n\"Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of \u003ci\u003eMusic.\"\u003c/i\u003e—From music? Music and\r\nTragedy? Greeks and tragic music? Greeks and the Art-work of pessimism?\r\nA race of men, well-fashioned, beautiful, envied, life-inspiring, like\r\nno other race hitherto, the Greeks—indeed? The Greeks were \u003ci\u003ein need\u003c/i\u003e\r\nof tragedy? Yea—of art? Wherefore—Greek art?…\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe can thus guess where the great note of interrogation concerning the\r\nvalue of existence had been set. Is pessimism \u003ci\u003enecessarily\u003c/i\u003e the sign of\r\ndecline, of decay, of failure, of exhausted and weakened instincts?—as\r\nwas the case with the Indians, as is, to all appearance, the case with\r\nus \"modern\" men and Europeans? Is there a pessimism of \u003ci\u003estrength\u003c/i\u003e? An\r\nintellectual predilection for what is hard, awful, evil, problematical\r\nin existence, owing to well-being, to exuberant health, to \u003ci\u003efullness\u003c/i\u003e\r\nof existence? Is there perhaps suffering in overfullness itself? A\r\nseductive fortitude with the keenest of glances, which \u003ci\u003eyearns\u003c/i\u003e for\r\nthe terrible, as for the enemy, the worthy enemy, with whom it may try\r\nits strength? from whom it is willing to learn what \"fear\" is? What\r\nmeans \u003ci\u003etragic\u003c/i\u003e myth to the Greeks of the best, strongest, bravest era?\r\nAnd the prodigious phenomenon of the Dionysian? And that which was\r\nborn thereof, tragedy?—And again: that of which tragedy died, the\r\nSocratism of morality, the dialectics,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_3\"\u003e[Pg 3]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e contentedness and cheerfulness\r\nof the theoretical man—indeed? might not this very Socratism\r\nbe a sign of decline, of weariness, of disease, of anarchically\r\ndisintegrating instincts? And the \"Hellenic cheerfulness\" of the later\r\nHellenism merely a glowing sunset? The Epicurean will \u003ci\u003ecounter\u003c/i\u003e to\r\npessimism merely a precaution of the sufferer? And science itself,\r\nour science—ay, viewed as a symptom of life, what really signifies\r\nall science? Whither, worse still, \u003ci\u003ewhence\u003c/i\u003e—all science? Well? Is\r\nscientism perhaps only fear and evasion of pessimism? A subtle defence\r\nagainst—\u003ci\u003etruth!\u003c/i\u003e Morally speaking, something like falsehood and\r\ncowardice? And, unmorally speaking, an artifice? O Socrates, Socrates,\r\nwas this perhaps \u003ci\u003ethy\u003c/i\u003e secret? Oh mysterious ironist, was this perhaps\r\nthine—irony?…\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e2.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhat I then laid hands on, something terrible and dangerous, a\r\nproblem with horns, not necessarily a bull itself, but at all events\r\na \u003ci\u003enew\u003c/i\u003e problem: I should say to-day it was the \u003ci\u003eproblem of science\u003c/i\u003e\r\nitself—science conceived for the first time as problematic, as\r\nquestionable. But the book, in which my youthful ardour and suspicion\r\nthen discharged themselves—what an \u003ci\u003eimpossible\u003c/i\u003e book must needs\r\ngrow out of a task so disagreeable to youth. Constructed of nought\r\nbut precocious, unripened self-experiences, all of which lay close\r\nto the threshold of the communicable, based on the groundwork of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_4\"\u003e[Pg 4]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\n\u003ci\u003eart\u003c/i\u003e—for the problem of science cannot be discerned on the groundwork\r\nof science,—a book perhaps for artists, with collateral analytical\r\nand retrospective aptitudes (that is, an exceptional kind of artists,\r\nfor whom one must seek and does not even care to seek …), full of\r\npsychological innovations and artists\u0027 secrets, with an artists\u0027\r\nmetaphysics in the background, a work of youth, full of youth\u0027s mettle\r\nand youth\u0027s melancholy, independent, defiantly self-sufficient even\r\nwhen it seems to bow to some authority and self-veneration; in short,\r\na firstling-work, even in every bad sense of the term; in spite of its\r\nsenile problem, affected with every fault of youth, above all with\r\nyouth\u0027s prolixity and youth\u0027s \"storm and stress\": on the other hand,\r\nin view of the success it had (especially with the great artist to\r\nwhom it addressed itself, as it were, in a duologue, Richard Wagner) a\r\n\u003ci\u003edemonstrated\u003c/i\u003e book, I mean a book which, at any rate, sufficed \"for\r\nthe best of its time.\" On this account, if for no other reason, it\r\nshould be treated with some consideration and reserve; yet I shall not\r\naltogether conceal how disagreeable it now appears to me, how after\r\nsixteen years it stands a total stranger before me,—before an eye\r\nwhich is more mature, and a hundred times more fastidious, but which\r\nhas by no means grown colder nor lost any of its interest in that\r\nself-same task essayed for the first time by this daring book,—\u003ci\u003eto\r\nview science through the optics of the artist, and art moreover through\r\nthe optics of life….\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_5\"\u003e[Pg 5]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e3.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eI say again, to-day it is an impossible book to me,—I call it badly\r\nwritten, heavy, painful, image-angling and image-entangling, maudlin,\r\nsugared at times even to femininism, uneven in tempo, void of the will\r\nto logical cleanliness, very convinced and therefore rising above the\r\nnecessity of demonstration, distrustful even of the \u003ci\u003epropriety\u003c/i\u003e of\r\ndemonstration, as being a book for initiates, as \"music\" for those who\r\nare baptised with the name of Music, who are united from the beginning\r\nof things by common ties of rare experiences in art, as a countersign\r\nfor blood-relations \u003ci\u003ein artibus.\u003c/i\u003e—a haughty and fantastic book,\r\nwhich from the very first withdraws even more from the \u003ci\u003eprofanum\r\nvulgus\u003c/i\u003e of the \"cultured\" than from the \"people,\" but which also, as\r\nits effect has shown and still shows, knows very well how to seek\r\nfellow-enthusiasts and lure them to new by-ways and dancing-grounds.\r\nHere, at any rate—thus much was acknowledged with curiosity as well\r\nas with aversion—a \u003ci\u003estrange\u003c/i\u003e voice spoke, the disciple of a still\r\n\"unknown God,\" who for the time being had hidden himself under the\r\nhood of the scholar, under the German\u0027s gravity and disinclination for\r\ndialectics, even under the bad manners of the Wagnerian; here was a\r\nspirit with strange and still nameless needs, a memory bristling with\r\nquestions, experiences and obscurities, beside which stood the name\r\nDionysos like one more note of interrogation; here spoke—people said\r\nto themselves with misgivings—\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_6\"\u003e[Pg 6]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e something like a mystic and almost\r\nmænadic soul, which, undecided whether it should disclose or conceal\r\nitself, stammers with an effort and capriciously as in a strange\r\ntongue. It should have \u003ci\u003esung,\u003c/i\u003e this \"new soul\"—and not spoken! What\r\na pity, that I did not dare to say what I then had to say, as a poet:\r\nI could have done so perhaps! Or at least as a philologist:—for even\r\nat the present day well-nigh everything in this domain remains to be\r\ndiscovered and disinterred by the philologist! Above all the problem,\r\n\u003ci\u003ethat\u003c/i\u003e here there \u003ci\u003eis\u003c/i\u003e a problem before us,—and that, so long as we\r\nhave no answer to the question \"what is Dionysian?\" the Greeks are now\r\nas ever wholly unknown and inconceivable….\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e4.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAy, what is Dionysian?—In this book may be found an answer,—a\r\n\"knowing one\" speaks here, the votary and disciple of his god.\r\nPerhaps I should now speak more guardedly and less eloquently of a\r\npsychological question so difficult as the origin of tragedy among the\r\nGreeks. A fundamental question is the relation of the Greek to pain,\r\nhis degree of sensibility,—did this relation remain constant? or did\r\nit veer about?—the question, whether his ever-increasing \u003ci\u003elonging\r\nfor beauty,\u003c/i\u003e for festivals, gaieties, new cults, did really grow out\r\nof want, privation, melancholy, pain? For suppose even this to be\r\ntrue—and Pericles (or Thucydides) intimates as much in the great\r\nFuneral Speech:—whence then the opposite\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_7\"\u003e[Pg 7]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e longing, which appeared\r\nfirst in the order of time, the \u003ci\u003elonging for the ugly\u003c/i\u003e, the good,\r\nresolute desire of the Old Hellene for pessimism, for tragic myth, for\r\nthe picture of all that is terrible, evil, enigmatical, destructive,\r\nfatal at the basis of existence,—whence then must tragedy have\r\nsprung? Perhaps from \u003ci\u003ejoy,\u003c/i\u003e from strength, from exuberant health, from\r\nover-fullness. And what then, physiologically speaking, is the meaning\r\nof that madness, out of which comic as well as tragic art has grown,\r\nthe Dionysian madness? What? perhaps madness is not necessarily the\r\nsymptom of degeneration, of decline, of belated culture? Perhaps there\r\nare—a question for alienists—neuroses of \u003ci\u003ehealth\u003c/i\u003e? of folk-youth\r\nand youthfulness? What does that synthesis of god and goat in the\r\nSatyr point to? What self-experience what \"stress,\" made the Greek\r\nthink of the Dionysian reveller and primitive man as a satyr? And as\r\nregards the origin of the tragic chorus: perhaps there were endemic\r\necstasies in the eras when the Greek body bloomed and the Greek soul\r\nbrimmed over with life? Visions and hallucinations, which took hold\r\nof entire communities, entire cult-assemblies? What if the Greeks\r\nin the very wealth of their youth had the will \u003ci\u003eto be\u003c/i\u003e tragic and\r\nwere pessimists? What if it was madness itself, to use a word of\r\nPlato\u0027s, which brought the \u003ci\u003egreatest\u003c/i\u003e blessings upon Hellas? And\r\nwhat if, on the other hand and conversely, at the very time of their\r\ndissolution and weakness, the Greeks became always more optimistic,\r\nmore superficial, more histrionic, also more ardent for logic and\r\nthe\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_8\"\u003e[Pg 8]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e logicising of the world,—consequently at the same time more\r\n\"cheerful\" and more \"scientific\"? Ay, despite all \"modern ideas\" and\r\nprejudices of the democratic taste, may not the triumph of \u003ci\u003eoptimism,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nthe \u003ci\u003ecommon sense\u003c/i\u003e that has gained the upper hand, the practical and\r\ntheoretical \u003ci\u003eutilitarianism,\u003c/i\u003e like democracy itself, with which it is\r\nsynchronous—be symptomatic of declining vigour, of approaching age,\r\nof physiological weariness? And \u003ci\u003enot\u003c/i\u003e at all—pessimism? Was Epicurus\r\nan optimist—because a \u003ci\u003esufferer\u003c/i\u003e?… We see it is a whole bundle of\r\nweighty questions which this book has taken upon itself,—let us not\r\nfail to add its weightiest question! Viewed through the optics of\r\n\u003ci\u003elife,\u003c/i\u003e what is the meaning of—morality?…\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e5.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAlready in the foreword to Richard Wagner, art—-and \u003ci\u003enot\u003c/i\u003e morality—is\r\nset down as the properly \u003ci\u003emetaphysical\u003c/i\u003e activity of man; in the\r\nbook itself the piquant proposition recurs time and again, that the\r\nexistence of the world is \u003ci\u003ejustified\u003c/i\u003e only as an æsthetic phenomenon.\r\nIndeed, the entire book recognises only an artist-thought and\r\nartist-after-thought behind all occurrences,—a \"God,\" if you will,\r\nbut certainly only an altogether thoughtless and unmoral artist-God,\r\nwho, in construction as in destruction, in good as in evil, desires\r\nto become conscious of his own equable joy and sovereign glory; who,\r\nin creating worlds, frees himself from the \u003ci\u003eanguish\u003c/i\u003e of fullness\r\nand \u003ci\u003eoverfullness,\u003c/i\u003e from the \u003ci\u003esuffering\u003c/i\u003e of the contradictions\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_9\"\u003e[Pg 9]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nconcentrated within him. The world, that is, the redemption of God\r\n\u003ci\u003eattained\u003c/i\u003e at every moment, as the perpetually changing, perpetually\r\nnew vision of the most suffering, most antithetical, most contradictory\r\nbeing, who contrives to redeem himself only in \u003ci\u003eappearance:\u003c/i\u003e this\r\nentire artist-metaphysics, call it arbitrary, idle, fantastic, if\r\nyou will,—the point is, that it already betrays a spirit, which is\r\ndetermined some day, at all hazards, to make a stand against the\r\n\u003ci\u003emoral\u003c/i\u003e interpretation and significance of life. Here, perhaps for the\r\nfirst time, a pessimism \"Beyond Good and Evil\" announces itself, here\r\nthat \"perverseness of disposition\" obtains expression and formulation,\r\nagainst which Schopenhauer never grew tired of hurling beforehand his\r\nangriest imprecations and thunderbolts,—a philosophy which dares to\r\nput, derogatorily put, morality itself in the world of phenomena, and\r\nnot only among \"phenomena\" (in the sense of the idealistic \u003ci\u003eterminus\r\ntechnicus\u003c/i\u003e), but among the \"illusions,\" as appearance, semblance,\r\nerror, interpretation, accommodation, art. Perhaps the depth of this\r\n\u003ci\u003eantimoral\u003c/i\u003e tendency may be best estimated from the guarded and\r\nhostile silence with which Christianity is treated throughout this\r\nbook,—Christianity, as being the most extravagant burlesque of the\r\nmoral theme to which mankind has hitherto been obliged to listen. In\r\nfact, to the purely æsthetic world-interpretation and justification\r\ntaught in this book, there is no greater antithesis than the Christian\r\ndogma, which is \u003ci\u003eonly\u003c/i\u003e and will be only moral, and which, with\r\nits absolute standards, for instance, its truthfulness\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_10\"\u003e[Pg 10]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of God,\r\nrelegates—that is, disowns, convicts, condemns—art, \u003ci\u003eall\u003c/i\u003e art, to\r\nthe realm of \u003ci\u003efalsehood.\u003c/i\u003e Behind such a mode of thought and valuation,\r\nwhich, if at all genuine, must be hostile to art, I always experienced\r\nwhat was \u003ci\u003ehostile to life,\u003c/i\u003e the wrathful, vindictive counterwill to\r\nlife itself: for all life rests on appearance, art, illusion, optics,\r\nnecessity of perspective and error. From the very first Christianity\r\nwas, essentially and thoroughly, the nausea and surfeit of Life for\r\nLife, which only disguised, concealed and decked itself out under the\r\nbelief in \"another\" or \"better\" life. The hatred of the \"world,\" the\r\ncurse on the affections, the fear of beauty and sensuality, another\r\nworld, invented for the purpose of slandering this world the more,\r\nat bottom a longing for. Nothingness, for the end, for rest, for the\r\n\"Sabbath of Sabbaths\"—all this, as also the unconditional will of\r\nChristianity to recognise \u003ci\u003eonly\u003c/i\u003e moral values, has always appeared to\r\nme as the most dangerous and ominous of all possible forms of a \"will\r\nto perish\"; at the least, as the symptom of a most fatal disease, of\r\nprofoundest weariness, despondency, exhaustion, impoverishment of\r\nlife,—for before the tribunal of morality (especially Christian, that\r\nis, unconditional morality) life \u003ci\u003emust\u003c/i\u003e constantly and inevitably be\r\nthe loser, because life \u003ci\u003eis\u003c/i\u003e something essentially unmoral,—indeed,\r\noppressed with the weight of contempt and the everlasting No, life\r\n\u003ci\u003emust\u003c/i\u003e finally be regarded as unworthy of desire, as in itself\r\nunworthy. Morality itself what?—may not morality be a \"will to\r\ndisown life,\" a secret instinct for annihilation, a principle\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_11\"\u003e[Pg 11]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of\r\ndecay, of depreciation, of slander, a beginning of the end? And,\r\nconsequently, the danger of dangers?… It was \u003ci\u003eagainst\u003c/i\u003e morality,\r\ntherefore, that my instinct, as an intercessory-instinct for life,\r\nturned in this questionable book, inventing for itself a fundamental\r\ncounter—dogma and counter-valuation of life, purely artistic, purely\r\n\u003ci\u003eanti-Christian.\u003c/i\u003e What should I call it? As a philologist and man of\r\nwords I baptised it, not without some liberty—for who could be sure\r\nof the proper name of the Antichrist?—with the name of a Greek god: I\r\ncalled it \u003ci\u003eDionysian.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e6.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eYou see which problem I ventured to touch upon in this early work?…\r\nHow I now regret, that I had not then the courage (or immodesty?) to\r\nallow myself, in all respects, the use of an \u003ci\u003eindividual language\u003c/i\u003e\r\nfor such \u003ci\u003eindividual\u003c/i\u003e contemplations and ventures in the field of\r\nthought—that I laboured to express, in Kantian and Schopenhauerian\r\nformulæ, strange and new valuations, which ran fundamentally counter\r\nto the spirit of Kant and Schopenhauer, as well as to their taste!\r\nWhat, forsooth, were Schopenhauer\u0027s views on tragedy? \"What gives\"—he\r\nsays in \u003ci\u003eWelt als Wille und Vorstellung,\u003c/i\u003e II. 495—\"to all tragedy\r\nthat singular swing towards elevation, is the awakening of the\r\nknowledge that the world, that life, cannot satisfy us thoroughly,\r\nand consequently is \u003ci\u003enot worthy\u003c/i\u003e of our attachment In this consists\r\nthe tragic spirit: it therefore leads to \u003ci\u003eresignation\u003c/i\u003e.\" Oh, how\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_12\"\u003e[Pg 12]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\ndifferently Dionysos spoke to me! Oh how far from me then was just\r\nthis entire resignationism!—But there is something far worse in this\r\nbook, which I now regret even more than having obscured and spoiled\r\nDionysian anticipations with Schopenhauerian formulæ: to wit, that, in\r\ngeneral, I \u003ci\u003espoiled\u003c/i\u003e the grand \u003ci\u003eHellenic problem,\u003c/i\u003e as it had opened\r\nup before me, by the admixture of the most modern things! That I\r\nentertained hopes, where nothing was to be hoped for, where everything\r\npointed all-too-clearly to an approaching end! That, on the basis of\r\nour latter-day German music, I began to fable about the \"spirit of\r\nTeutonism,\" as if it were on the point of discovering and returning\r\nto itself,—ay, at the very time that the German spirit which not so\r\nvery long before had had the will to the lordship over Europe, the\r\nstrength to lead and govern Europe, testamentarily and conclusively\r\n\u003ci\u003eresigned\u003c/i\u003e and, under the pompous pretence of empire-founding,\r\neffected its transition to mediocritisation, democracy, and \"modern\r\nideas.\" In very fact, I have since learned to regard this \"spirit of\r\nTeutonism\" as something to be despaired of and unsparingly treated,\r\nas also our present \u003ci\u003eGerman music,\u003c/i\u003e which is Romanticism through and\r\nthrough and the most un-Grecian of all possible forms of art: and\r\nmoreover a first-rate nerve-destroyer, doubly dangerous for a people\r\ngiven to drinking and revering the unclear as a virtue, namely, in\r\nits twofold capacity of an intoxicating and stupefying narcotic. Of\r\ncourse, apart from all precipitate hopes and faulty applications\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_13\"\u003e[Pg 13]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e to\r\nmatters specially modern, with which I then spoiled my first book, the\r\ngreat Dionysian note of interrogation, as set down therein, continues\r\nstanding on and on, even with reference to music: how must we conceive\r\nof a music, which is no longer of Romantic origin, like the German; but\r\nof \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e?…\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e7.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e—But, my dear Sir, if \u003ci\u003eyour\u003c/i\u003e book is not Romanticism, what in\r\nthe world is? Can the deep hatred of the present, of \"reality\"\r\nand \"modern ideas\" be pushed farther than has been done in your\r\nartist-metaphysics?—which would rather believe in Nothing, or in\r\nthe devil, than in the \"Now\"? Does not a radical bass of wrath and\r\nannihilative pleasure growl on beneath all your contrapuntal vocal\r\nart and aural seduction, a mad determination to oppose all that \"now\"\r\nis, a will which is not so very far removed from practical nihilism\r\nand which seems to say: \"rather let nothing be true, than that \u003ci\u003eyou\u003c/i\u003e\r\nshould be in the right, than that \u003ci\u003eyour\u003c/i\u003e truth should prevail!\"\r\nHear, yourself, my dear Sir Pessimist and art-deifier, with ever\r\nso unlocked ears, a single select passage of your own book, that\r\nnot ineloquent dragon-slayer passage, which may sound insidiously\r\nrat-charming to young ears and hearts. What? is not that the true\r\nblue romanticist-confession of 1830 under the mask of the pessimism\r\nof 1850? After which, of course, the usual romanticist finale at once\r\nstrikes up,—rupture, collapse, return and prostration before an old\r\nbelief, before \u003ci\u003ethe\u003c/i\u003e old God….\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_14\"\u003e[Pg 14]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e What? is not your pessimist book\r\nitself a piece of anti-Hellenism and Romanticism, something \"equally\r\nintoxicating and befogging,\" a narcotic at all events, ay, a piece of\r\nmusic, of \u003ci\u003eGerman\u003c/i\u003e music? But listen:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cblockquote\u003e\u003cdiv\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet us imagine a rising generation with this undauntedness\r\nof vision, with this heroic impulse towards the prodigious,\r\nlet us imagine the bold step of these dragon-slayers,\r\nthe proud daring with which they turn their backs on all\r\nthe effeminate doctrines of optimism, in order \"to live\r\nresolutely\" in the Whole and in the Full: \u003ci\u003ewould it not be\r\nnecessary\u003c/i\u003e for the tragic man of this culture, with his\r\nself-discipline to earnestness and terror, to desire a new\r\nart, \u003ci\u003ethe art of metaphysical comfort,\u003c/i\u003e tragedy as the\r\nHelena belonging to him, and that he should exclaim with\r\nFaust:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\n\"Und sollt ich nicht, sehnsüchtigster Gewalt,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn\u0027s Leben ziehn die einzigste Gestalt?\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_1_2\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_1_2\"\u003e[1]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/blockquote\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Would it not be \u003ci\u003enecessary\u003c/i\u003e?\" … No, thrice no! ye young\r\nromanticists: it would \u003ci\u003enot\u003c/i\u003e be necessary! But it is very probable,\r\nthat things may \u003ci\u003eend\u003c/i\u003e thus, that \u003ci\u003eye\u003c/i\u003e may end thus, namely \"comforted,\"\r\nas it is written, in spite of all self-discipline to earnestness and\r\nterror; metaphysically comforted, in short, as Romanticists are wont to\r\nend, as \u003ci\u003eChristians….\u003c/i\u003e No! ye should first of all learn the art of\r\nearthly comfort, ye should learn to \u003ci\u003elaugh,\u003c/i\u003e my young friends, if ye\r\nare at all determined to remain pessimists: if so, you\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_15\"\u003e[Pg 15]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e will perhaps,\r\nas laughing ones, eventually send all metaphysical comfortism to the\r\ndevil—and metaphysics first of all! Or, to say it in the language of\r\nthat Dionysian ogre, called \u003ci\u003eZarathustra\u003c/i\u003e:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cblockquote\u003e\u003cdiv\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Lift up your hearts, my brethren, high, higher! And do\r\nnot forget your legs! Lift up also your legs, ye good\r\ndancers—and better still if ye stand also on your heads!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"This crown of the laughter, this rose-garland crown—I\r\nmyself have put on this crown; I myself have consecrated my\r\nlaughter. No one else have I found to-day strong enough for\r\nthis.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Zarathustra the dancer, Zarathustra the light one,\r\nwho beckoneth with his pinions, one ready for flight,\r\nbeckoning unto all birds, ready and prepared, a blissfully\r\nlight-spirited one:—\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"Zarathustra the soothsayer, Zarathustra the sooth-laugher,\r\nno impatient one, no absolute one, one who loveth leaps and\r\nside-leaps: I myself have put on this crown!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"This crown of the laughter, this rose-garland crown—to\r\nyou my brethren do I cast this crown! Laughing have I\r\nconsecrated: ye higher men, \u003ci\u003elearn,\u003c/i\u003e I pray you—to laugh!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eThus spake Zarathustra\u003c/i\u003e, lxxiii. 17, 18, and 20.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\u003c/blockquote\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003eSILS-MARIA, OBERENGADIN\u003c/span\u003e, \u003ci\u003eAugust\u003c/i\u003e 1886.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_1_2\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_1_2\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[1]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAnd shall not I, by mightiest desire,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn living shape that sole fair form acquire?\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003eSWANWICK\u003c/span\u003e, trans. of \u003ci\u003eFaust.\u003c/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"chap\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_18\"\u003e[Pg 18]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch3\u003eTHE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eFROM THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"tb\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_19\"\u003e[Pg 19]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e \u003ca id=\"FOREWORD_TO_RICHARD_WAGNER\"\u003eFOREWORD TO RICHARD WAGNER.\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn order to keep at a distance all the possible scruples, excitements,\r\nand misunderstandings to which the thoughts gathered in this essay\r\nwill give occasion, considering the peculiar character of our æsthetic\r\npublicity, and to be able also to write the introductory remarks\r\nwith the same contemplative delight, the impress of which, as the\r\npetrifaction of good and elevating hours, it bears on every page, I\r\nform a conception of the moment when you, my highly honoured friend,\r\nwill receive this essay; how you, say after an evening walk in the\r\nwinter snow, will behold the unbound Prometheus on the title-page,\r\nread my name, and be forthwith convinced that, whatever this essay may\r\ncontain, the author has something earnest and impressive to say, and,\r\nmoreover, that in all his meditations he communed with you as with one\r\npresent and could thus write only what befitted your presence. You\r\nwill thus remember that it was at the same time as your magnificent\r\ndissertation on Beethoven originated, viz., amidst\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_20\"\u003e[Pg 20]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the horrors and\r\nsublimities of the war which had just then broken out, that I collected\r\nmyself for these thoughts. But those persons would err, to whom this\r\ncollection suggests no more perhaps than the antithesis of patriotic\r\nexcitement and æsthetic revelry, of gallant earnestness and sportive\r\ndelight. Upon a real perusal of this essay, such readers will, rather\r\nto their surprise, discover how earnest is the German problem we have\r\nto deal with, which we properly place, as a vortex and turning-point,\r\nin the very midst of German hopes. Perhaps, however, this same class\r\nof readers will be shocked at seeing an æsthetic problem taken so\r\nseriously, especially if they can recognise in art no more than a merry\r\ndiversion, a readily dispensable court-jester to the \"earnestness\r\nof existence\": as if no one were aware of the real meaning of this\r\nconfrontation with the \"earnestness of existence.\" These earnest ones\r\nmay be informed that I am convinced that art is the highest task and\r\nthe properly metaphysical activity of this life, as it is understood by\r\nthe man, to whom, as my sublime protagonist on this path, I would now\r\ndedicate this essay.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003eBASEL\u003c/span\u003e, \u003ci\u003eend of the year\u003c/i\u003e 1871.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"chap\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_21\"\u003e[Pg 21]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch3\u003e \u003ca id=\"THE_BIRTH_OF_TRAGEDY\"\u003eTHE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY.\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e1.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe shall have gained much for the science of æsthetics, when once we\r\nhave perceived not only by logical inference, but by the immediate\r\ncertainty of intuition, that the continuous development of art is bound\r\nup with the duplexity of the \u003ci\u003eApollonian\u003c/i\u003e and the \u003ci\u003eDionysian:\u003c/i\u003e in\r\nlike manner as procreation is dependent on the duality of the sexes,\r\ninvolving perpetual conflicts with only periodically intervening\r\nreconciliations. These names we borrow from the Greeks, who disclose\r\nto the intelligent observer the profound mysteries of their view of\r\nart, not indeed in concepts, but in the impressively clear figures of\r\ntheir world of deities. It is in connection with Apollo and Dionysus,\r\nthe two art-deities of the Greeks, that we learn that there existed in\r\nthe Grecian world a wide antithesis, in origin and aims, between the\r\nart of the shaper, the Apollonian, and the non-plastic art of music,\r\nthat of Dionysus: both these so heterogeneous tendencies run parallel\r\nto each other, for the most part openly at variance, and continually\r\ninciting each other to new and more powerful births, to perpetuate in\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_22\"\u003e[Pg 22]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nthem the strife of this antithesis, which is but seemingly bridged over\r\nby their mutual term \"Art\"; till at last, by a metaphysical miracle\r\nof the Hellenic will, they appear paired with each other, and through\r\nthis pairing eventually generate the equally Dionysian and Apollonian\r\nart-work of Attic tragedy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn order to bring these two tendencies within closer range, let us\r\nconceive them first of all as the separate art-worlds of \u003ci\u003edreamland\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand \u003ci\u003edrunkenness;\u003c/i\u003e between which physiological phenomena a contrast\r\nmay be observed analogous to that existing between the Apollonian and\r\nthe Dionysian. In dreams, according to the conception of Lucretius,\r\nthe glorious divine figures first appeared to the souls of men, in\r\ndreams the great shaper beheld the charming corporeal structure of\r\nsuperhuman beings, and the Hellenic poet, if consulted on the mysteries\r\nof poetic inspiration, would likewise have suggested dreams and would\r\nhave offered an explanation resembling that of Hans Sachs in the\r\nMeistersingers:—\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\nMein Freund, das grad\u0027 ist Dichters Werk,\u003cbr\u003e\r\ndass er sein Träumen deut\u0027 und merk\u0027.\u003cbr\u003e\r\nGlaubt mir, des Menschen wahrster Wahn\u003cbr\u003e\r\nwird ihm im Traume aufgethan:\u003cbr\u003e\r\nall\u0027 Dichtkunst und Poeterei\u003cbr\u003e\r\nist nichts als Wahrtraum-Deuterei.\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_1_3\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_1_3\"\u003e[1]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_23\"\u003e[Pg 23]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe beauteous appearance of the dream-worlds, in the production of\r\nwhich every man is a perfect artist, is the presupposition of all\r\nplastic art, and in fact, as we shall see, of an important half of\r\npoetry also. We take delight in the immediate apprehension of form; all\r\nforms speak to us; there is nothing indifferent, nothing superfluous.\r\nBut, together with the highest life of this dream-reality we also have,\r\nglimmering through it, the sensation of its appearance: such at least\r\nis my experience, as to the frequency, ay, normality of which I could\r\nadduce many proofs, as also the sayings of the poets. Indeed, the man\r\nof philosophic turn has a foreboding that underneath this reality in\r\nwhich we live and have our being, another and altogether different\r\nreality lies concealed, and that therefore it is also an appearance;\r\nand Schopenhauer actually designates the gift of occasionally regarding\r\nmen and things as mere phantoms and dream-pictures as the criterion of\r\nphilosophical ability. Accordingly, the man susceptible to art stands\r\nin the same relation to the reality of dreams as the philosopher to\r\nthe reality of existence; he is a close and willing observer, for from\r\nthese pictures he reads the meaning of life, and by these processes\r\nhe trains himself for life. And it is perhaps not only the agreeable\r\nand friendly pictures that he realises in himself with such perfect\r\nunderstanding: the earnest, the troubled, the dreary, the gloomy, the\r\nsudden checks, the tricks of fortune, the uneasy presentiments, in\r\nshort, the whole \"Divine Comedy\" of life, and the Inferno, also pass\r\nbefore him, not merely like\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_24\"\u003e[Pg 24]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e pictures on the wall—for he too lives and\r\nsuffers in these scenes,—and yet not without that fleeting sensation\r\nof appearance. And perhaps many a one will, like myself, recollect\r\nhaving sometimes called out cheeringly and not without success amid the\r\ndangers and terrors of dream-life: \"It is a dream! I will dream on!\" I\r\nhave likewise been told of persons capable of continuing the causality\r\nof one and the same dream for three and even more successive nights:\r\nall of which facts clearly testify that our innermost being, the common\r\nsubstratum of all of us, experiences our dreams with deep joy and\r\ncheerful acquiescence.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis cheerful acquiescence in the dream-experience has likewise been\r\nembodied by the Greeks in their Apollo: for Apollo, as the god of\r\nall shaping energies, is also the soothsaying god. He, who (as the\r\netymology of the name indicates) is the \"shining one,\" the deity of\r\nlight, also rules over the fair appearance of the inner world of\r\nfantasies. The higher truth, the perfection of these states in contrast\r\nto the only partially intelligible everyday world, ay, the deep\r\nconsciousness of nature, healing and helping in sleep and dream, is at\r\nthe same time the symbolical analogue of the faculty of soothsaying\r\nand, in general, of the arts, through which life is made possible and\r\nworth living. But also that delicate line, which the dream-picture must\r\nnot overstep—lest it act pathologically (in which case appearance,\r\nbeing reality pure and simple, would impose upon us)—must not be\r\nwanting in the picture of Apollo: that measured limitation, that\r\nfreedom\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_25\"\u003e[Pg 25]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e from the wilder emotions, that philosophical calmness of the\r\nsculptor-god. His eye must be \"sunlike,\" according to his origin; even\r\nwhen it is angry and looks displeased, the sacredness of his beauteous\r\nappearance is still there. And so we might apply to Apollo, in an\r\neccentric sense, what Schopenhauer says of the man wrapt in the veil\r\nof Mâyâ\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_2_4\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_2_4\"\u003e[2]\u003c/a\u003e: \u003ci\u003eWelt als Wille und Vorstellung,\u003c/i\u003e I. p. 416: \"Just as in\r\na stormy sea, unbounded in every direction, rising and falling with\r\nhowling mountainous waves, a sailor sits in a boat and trusts in his\r\nfrail barque: so in the midst of a world of sorrows the individual sits\r\nquietly supported by and trusting in his \u003ci\u003eprincipium individuationis\u003c/i\u003e.\"\r\nIndeed, we might say of Apollo, that in him the unshaken faith in\r\nthis \u003ci\u003eprincipium\u003c/i\u003e and the quiet sitting of the man wrapt therein have\r\nreceived their sublimest expression; and we might even designate Apollo\r\nas the glorious divine image of the \u003ci\u003eprincipium individuationis,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nfrom out of the gestures and looks of which all the joy and wisdom of\r\n\"appearance,\" together with its beauty, speak to us.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn the same work Schopenhauer has described to us the stupendous \u003ci\u003eawe\u003c/i\u003e\r\nwhich seizes upon man, when of a sudden he is at a loss to account for\r\nthe cognitive forms of a phenomenon, in that the principle of reason,\r\nin some one of its manifestations, seems to admit of an exception.\r\nAdd to this awe the blissful ecstasy which rises from the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_26\"\u003e[Pg 26]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e innermost\r\ndepths of man, ay, of nature, at this same collapse of the \u003ci\u003eprincipium\r\nindividuationis,\u003c/i\u003e and we shall gain an insight into the being of\r\nthe \u003ci\u003eDionysian,\u003c/i\u003e which is brought within closest ken perhaps by the\r\nanalogy of \u003ci\u003edrunkenness.\u003c/i\u003e It is either under the influence of the\r\nnarcotic draught, of which the hymns of all primitive men and peoples\r\ntell us, or by the powerful approach of spring penetrating all nature\r\nwith joy, that those Dionysian emotions awake, in the augmentation of\r\nwhich the subjective vanishes to complete self-forgetfulness. So also\r\nin the German Middle Ages singing and dancing crowds, ever increasing\r\nin number, were borne from place to place under this same Dionysian\r\npower. In these St. John\u0027s and St. Vitus\u0027s dancers we again perceive\r\nthe Bacchic choruses of the Greeks, with their previous history in Asia\r\nMinor, as far back as Babylon and the orgiastic Sacæa. There are some,\r\nwho, from lack of experience or obtuseness, will turn away from such\r\nphenomena as \"folk-diseases\" with a smile of contempt or pity prompted\r\nby the consciousness of their own health: of course, the poor wretches\r\ndo not divine what a cadaverous-looking and ghastly aspect this very\r\n\"health\" of theirs presents when the glowing life of the Dionysian\r\nrevellers rushes past them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eUnder the charm of the Dionysian not only is the covenant between man\r\nand man again established, but also estranged, hostile or subjugated\r\nnature again celebrates her reconciliation with her lost son, man. Of\r\nher own accord earth proffers her gifts, and peacefully the beasts of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_27\"\u003e[Pg 27]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nprey approach from the desert and the rocks. The chariot of Dionysus is\r\nbedecked with flowers and garlands: panthers and tigers pass beneath\r\nhis yoke. Change Beethoven\u0027s \"jubilee-song\" into a painting, and, if\r\nyour imagination be equal to the occasion when the awestruck millions\r\nsink into the dust, you will then be able to approach the Dionysian.\r\nNow is the slave a free man, now all the stubborn, hostile barriers,\r\nwhich necessity, caprice, or \"shameless fashion\" has set up between\r\nman and man, are broken down. Now, at the evangel of cosmic harmony,\r\neach one feels himself not only united, reconciled, blended with\r\nhis neighbour, but as one with him, as if the veil of Mâyâ has been\r\ntorn and were now merely fluttering in tatters before the mysterious\r\nPrimordial Unity. In song and in dance man exhibits himself as a member\r\nof a higher community, he has forgotten how to walk and speak, and\r\nis on the point of taking a dancing flight into the air. His gestures\r\nbespeak enchantment. Even as the animals now talk, and as the earth\r\nyields milk and honey, so also something super-natural sounds forth\r\nfrom him: he feels himself a god, he himself now walks about enchanted\r\nand elated even as the gods whom he saw walking about in his dreams.\r\nMan is no longer an artist, he has become a work of art: the artistic\r\npower of all nature here reveals itself in the tremors of drunkenness\r\nto the highest gratification of the Primordial Unity. The noblest clay,\r\nthe costliest marble, namely man, is here kneaded and cut, and the\r\nchisel strokes of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_28\"\u003e[Pg 28]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the Dionysian world-artist are accompanied with the\r\ncry of the Eleusinian mysteries: \"Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen? Ahnest\r\ndu den Schöpfer, Welt?\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_3_5\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_3_5\"\u003e[3]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_1_3\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_1_3\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[1]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMy friend, just this is poet\u0027s task:\u003cbr\u003e\r\nHis dreams to read and to unmask.\u003cbr\u003e\r\nTrust me, illusion\u0027s truths thrice sealed\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn dream to man will be revealed.\u003cbr\u003e\r\nAll verse-craft and poetisation\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIs but soothdream interpretation.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_2_4\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_2_4\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[2]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Cf. \u003ci\u003eWorld and Will as Idea,\u003c/i\u003e 1. 455 ff., trans, by\r\nHaldane and Kemp.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_3_5\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_3_5\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[3]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nTe bow in the dust, oh millions?\u003cbr\u003e\r\nThy maker, mortal, dost divine?\u003cbr\u003e\r\nCf. Schiller\u0027s \"Hymn to Joy\"; and Beethoven, Ninth Symphony.—TR. \u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e2.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus far we have considered the Apollonian and his antithesis,\r\nthe Dionysian, as artistic powers, which burst forth from nature\r\nherself, \u003ci\u003ewithout the mediation of the human artist,\u003c/i\u003e and in which\r\nher art-impulses are satisfied in the most immediate and direct way:\r\nfirst, as the pictorial world of dreams, the perfection of which\r\nhas no connection whatever with the intellectual height or artistic\r\nculture of the unit man, and again, as drunken reality, which likewise\r\ndoes not heed the unit man, but even seeks to destroy the individual\r\nand redeem him by a mystic feeling of Oneness. Anent these immediate\r\nart-states of nature every artist is either an \"imitator,\" to wit,\r\neither an Apollonian, an artist in dreams, or a Dionysian, an artist\r\nin ecstasies, or finally—as for instance in Greek tragedy—an artist\r\nin both dreams and ecstasies: so we may perhaps picture him, as in\r\nhis Dionysian drunkenness and mystical self-abnegation, lonesome and\r\napart from the revelling choruses, he sinks down, and how now, through\r\nApollonian dream-inspiration, his own state, \u003ci\u003ei.e.\u003c/i\u003e,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_29\"\u003e[Pg 29]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e his oneness\r\nwith the primal source of the universe, reveals itself to him \u003ci\u003ein a\r\nsymbolical dream-picture\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAfter these general premisings and contrastings, let us now approach\r\nthe \u003ci\u003eGreeks\u003c/i\u003e in order to learn in what degree and to what height\r\nthese \u003ci\u003eart-impulses of nature\u003c/i\u003e were developed in them: whereby\r\nwe shall be enabled to understand and appreciate more deeply the\r\nrelation of the Greek artist to his archetypes, or, according to the\r\nAristotelian expression, \"the imitation of nature.\" In spite of all the\r\ndream-literature and the numerous dream-anecdotes of the Greeks, we can\r\nspeak only conjecturally, though with a fair degree of certainty, of\r\ntheir \u003ci\u003edreams.\u003c/i\u003e Considering the incredibly precise and unerring plastic\r\npower of their eyes, as also their manifest and sincere delight in\r\ncolours, we can hardly refrain (to the shame of every one born later)\r\nfrom assuming for their very dreams a logical causality of lines and\r\ncontours, colours and groups, a sequence of scenes resembling their\r\nbest reliefs, the perfection of which would certainly justify us, if a\r\ncomparison were possible, in designating the dreaming Greeks as Homers\r\nand Homer as a dreaming Greek: in a deeper sense than when modern man,\r\nin respect to his dreams, ventures to compare himself with Shakespeare.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOn the other hand, we should not have to speak conjecturally, if asked\r\nto disclose the immense gap which separated the \u003ci\u003eDionysian Greek\u003c/i\u003e from\r\nthe Dionysian barbarian. From all quarters of the Ancient World—to\r\nsay nothing of the modern—from Rome as far as Babylon, we can\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_30\"\u003e[Pg 30]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e prove\r\nthe existence of Dionysian festivals, the type of which bears, at\r\nbest, the same relation to the Greek festivals as the bearded satyr,\r\nwho borrowed his name and attributes from the goat, does to Dionysus\r\nhimself. In nearly every instance the centre of these festivals lay\r\nin extravagant sexual licentiousness, the waves of which overwhelmed\r\nall family life and its venerable traditions; the very wildest beasts\r\nof nature were let loose here, including that detestable mixture of\r\nlust and cruelty which has always seemed to me the genuine \"witches\u0027\r\ndraught.\" For some time, however, it would seem that the Greeks\r\nwere perfectly secure and guarded against the feverish agitations\r\nof these festivals (—the knowledge of which entered Greece by all\r\nthe channels of land and sea) by the figure of Apollo himself rising\r\nhere in full pride, who could not have held out the Gorgon\u0027s head to\r\na more dangerous power than this grotesquely uncouth Dionysian. It\r\nis in Doric art that this majestically-rejecting attitude of Apollo\r\nperpetuated itself. This opposition became more precarious and even\r\nimpossible, when, from out of the deepest root of the Hellenic nature,\r\nsimilar impulses finally broke forth and made way for themselves:\r\nthe Delphic god, by a seasonably effected reconciliation, was now\r\ncontented with taking the destructive arms from the hands of his\r\npowerful antagonist. This reconciliation marks the most important\r\nmoment in the history of the Greek cult: wherever we turn our eyes\r\nwe may observe the revolutions resulting from this event. It was\r\nthe reconciliation of two antagonists,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_31\"\u003e[Pg 31]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e with the sharp demarcation\r\nof the boundary-lines to be thenceforth observed by each, and with\r\nperiodical transmission of testimonials;—in reality, the chasm was\r\nnot bridged over. But if we observe how, under the pressure of this\r\nconclusion of peace, the Dionysian power manifested itself, we shall\r\nnow recognise in the Dionysian orgies of the Greeks, as compared with\r\nthe Babylonian Sacæa and their retrogression of man to the tiger and\r\nthe ape, the significance of festivals of world-redemption and days of\r\ntransfiguration. Not till then does nature attain her artistic jubilee;\r\nnot till then does the rupture of the \u003ci\u003eprincipium individuationis\u003c/i\u003e\r\nbecome an artistic phenomenon. That horrible \"witches\u0027 draught\" of\r\nsensuality and cruelty was here powerless: only the curious blending\r\nand duality in the emotions of the Dionysian revellers reminds one of\r\nit—just as medicines remind one of deadly poisons,—that phenomenon,\r\nto wit, that pains beget joy, that jubilation wrings painful sounds out\r\nof the breast. From the highest joy sounds the cry of horror or the\r\nyearning wail over an irretrievable loss. In these Greek festivals a\r\nsentimental trait, as it were, breaks forth from nature, as if she must\r\nsigh over her dismemberment into individuals. The song and pantomime\r\nof such dually-minded revellers was something new and unheard-of in\r\nthe Homeric-Grecian world; and the Dionysian \u003ci\u003emusic\u003c/i\u003e in particular\r\nexcited awe and horror. If music, as it would seem, was previously\r\nknown as an Apollonian art, it was, strictly speaking, only as the\r\nwave-beat of rhythm, the formative power of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_32\"\u003e[Pg 32]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e which was developed to\r\nthe representation of Apollonian conditions. The music of Apollo was\r\nDoric architectonics in tones, but in merely suggested tones, such\r\nas those of the cithara. The very element which forms the essence of\r\nDionysian music (and hence of music in general) is carefully excluded\r\nas un-Apollonian; namely, the thrilling power of the tone, the uniform\r\nstream of the melos, and the thoroughly incomparable world of harmony.\r\nIn the Dionysian dithyramb man is incited to the highest exaltation\r\nof all his symbolic faculties; something never before experienced\r\nstruggles for utterance—the annihilation of the veil of Mâyâ, Oneness\r\nas genius of the race, ay, of nature. The essence of nature is now\r\nto be expressed symbolically; a new world of symbols is required;\r\nfor once the entire symbolism of the body, not only the symbolism of\r\nthe lips, face, and speech, but the whole pantomime of dancing which\r\nsets all the members into rhythmical motion. Thereupon the other\r\nsymbolic powers, those of music, in rhythmics, dynamics, and harmony,\r\nsuddenly become impetuous. To comprehend this collective discharge\r\nof all the symbolic powers, a man must have already attained that\r\nheight of self-abnegation, which wills to express itself symbolically\r\nthrough these powers: the Dithyrambic votary of Dionysus is therefore\r\nunderstood only by those like himself! With what astonishment must the\r\nApollonian Greek have beheld him! With an astonishment, which was all\r\nthe greater the more it was mingled with the shuddering suspicion that\r\nall this was in\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_33\"\u003e[Pg 33]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e reality not so very foreign to him, yea, that, like\r\nunto a veil, his Apollonian consciousness only hid this Dionysian world\r\nfrom his view.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e3.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn order to comprehend this, we must take down the artistic structure\r\nof the \u003ci\u003eApollonian culture,\u003c/i\u003e as it were, stone by stone, till we behold\r\nthe foundations on which it rests. Here we observe first of all the\r\nglorious \u003ci\u003eOlympian\u003c/i\u003e figures of the gods, standing on the gables of this\r\nstructure, whose deeds, represented in far-shining reliefs, adorn its\r\nfriezes. Though Apollo stands among them as an individual deity, side\r\nby side with others, and without claim to priority of rank, we must not\r\nsuffer this fact to mislead us. The same impulse which embodied itself\r\nin Apollo has, in general, given birth to this whole Olympian world,\r\nand in this sense we may regard Apollo as the father thereof. What was\r\nthe enormous need from which proceeded such an illustrious group of\r\nOlympian beings?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhosoever, with another religion in his heart, approaches these\r\nOlympians and seeks among them for moral elevation, even for sanctity,\r\nfor incorporeal spiritualisation, for sympathetic looks of love, will\r\nsoon be obliged to turn his back on them, discouraged and disappointed.\r\nHere nothing suggests asceticism, spirituality, or duty: here only\r\nan exuberant, even triumphant life speaks to us, in which everything\r\nexisting is deified, whether good or bad. And so the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_34\"\u003e[Pg 34]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e spectator will\r\nperhaps stand quite bewildered before this fantastic exuberance of\r\nlife, and ask himself what magic potion these madly merry men could\r\nhave used for enjoying life, so that, wherever they turned their eyes,\r\nHelena, the ideal image of their own existence \"floating in sweet\r\nsensuality,\" smiled upon them. But to this spectator, already turning\r\nbackwards, we must call out: \"depart not hence, but hear rather what\r\nGreek folk-wisdom says of this same life, which with such inexplicable\r\ncheerfulness spreads out before thee.\" There is an ancient story that\r\nking Midas hunted in the forest a long time for the wise \u003ci\u003eSilenus,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nthe companion of Dionysus, without capturing him. When at last he fell\r\ninto his hands, the king asked what was best of all and most desirable\r\nfor man. Fixed and immovable, the demon remained silent; till at last,\r\nforced by the king, he broke out with shrill laughter into these words:\r\n\"Oh, wretched race of a day, children of chance and misery, why do ye\r\ncompel me to say to you what it were most expedient for you not to\r\nhear? What is best of all is for ever beyond your reach: not to be\r\nborn, not to \u003ci\u003ebe\u003c/i\u003e, to be \u003ci\u003enothing.\u003c/i\u003e The second best for you, however,\r\nis soon to die.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHow is the Olympian world of deities related to this folk-wisdom? Even\r\nas the rapturous vision of the tortured martyr to his sufferings.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNow the Olympian magic mountain opens, as it were, to our view and\r\nshows to us its roots. The Greek knew and felt the terrors and horrors\r\nof existence: to be able to live at all, he had to\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_35\"\u003e[Pg 35]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e interpose the\r\nshining dream-birth of the Olympian world between himself and them.\r\nThe excessive distrust of the titanic powers of nature, the Moira\r\nthroning inexorably over all knowledge, the vulture of the great\r\nphilanthropist Prometheus, the terrible fate of the wise Œdipus, the\r\nfamily curse of the Atridæ which drove Orestes to matricide; in short,\r\nthat entire philosophy of the sylvan god, with its mythical exemplars,\r\nwhich wrought the ruin of the melancholy Etruscans—was again and again\r\nsurmounted anew by the Greeks through the artistic \u003ci\u003emiddle world\u003c/i\u003e of\r\nthe Olympians, or at least veiled and withdrawn from sight. To be able\r\nto live, the Greeks had, from direst necessity, to create these gods:\r\nwhich process we may perhaps picture to ourselves in this manner: that\r\nout of the original Titan thearchy of terror the Olympian thearchy of\r\njoy was evolved, by slow transitions, through the Apollonian impulse to\r\nbeauty, even as roses break forth from thorny bushes. How else could\r\nthis so sensitive people, so vehement in its desires, so singularly\r\nqualified for \u003ci\u003esufferings\u003c/i\u003e have endured existence, if it had not been\r\nexhibited to them in their gods, surrounded with a higher glory?\r\nThe same impulse which calls art into being, as the complement and\r\nconsummation of existence, seducing to a continuation of life, caused\r\nalso the Olympian world to arise, in which the Hellenic \"will\" held\r\nup before itself a transfiguring mirror. Thus do the gods justify the\r\nlife of man, in that they themselves live it—the only satisfactory\r\nTheodicy! Existence under the bright sunshine\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_36\"\u003e[Pg 36]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of such gods is regarded\r\nas that which is desirable in itself, and the real \u003ci\u003egrief\u003c/i\u003e of the\r\nHomeric men has reference to parting from it, especially to early\r\nparting: so that we might now say of them, with a reversion of the\r\nSilenian wisdom, that \"to die early is worst of all for them, the\r\nsecond worst is—some day to die at all.\" If once the lamentation is\r\nheard, it will ring out again, of the short-lived Achilles, of the\r\nleaf-like change and vicissitude of the human race, of the decay of\r\nthe heroic age. It is not unworthy of the greatest hero to long for a\r\ncontinuation of life, ay, even as a day-labourer. So vehemently does\r\nthe \"will,\" at the Apollonian stage of development, long for this\r\nexistence, so completely at one does the Homeric man feel himself with\r\nit, that the very lamentation becomes its song of praise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere we must observe that this harmony which is so eagerly contemplated\r\nby modern man, in fact, this oneness of man with nature, to express\r\nwhich Schiller introduced the technical term \"naïve,\" is by no means\r\nsuch a simple, naturally resulting and, as it were, inevitable\r\ncondition, which \u003ci\u003emust\u003c/i\u003e be found at the gate of every culture leading\r\nto a paradise of man: this could be believed only by an age which\r\nsought to picture to itself Rousseau\u0027s Émile also as an artist,\r\nand imagined it had found in Homer such an artist Émile, reared at\r\nNature\u0027s bosom. Wherever we meet with the \"naïve\" in art, it behoves\r\nus to recognise the highest effect of the Apollonian culture, which\r\nin the first place has always to overthrow some Titanic empire and\r\nslay monsters, and\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_37\"\u003e[Pg 37]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e which, through powerful dazzling representations\r\nand pleasurable illusions, must have triumphed over a terrible depth\r\nof world-contemplation and a most keen susceptibility to suffering.\r\nBut how seldom is the naïve—that complete absorption, in the beauty\r\nof appearance—attained! And hence how inexpressibly sublime is\r\n\u003ci\u003eHomer,\u003c/i\u003e who, as unit being, bears the same relation to this Apollonian\r\nfolk-culture as the unit dream-artist does to the dream-faculty of\r\nthe people and of Nature in general. The Homeric \"naïveté\" can be\r\ncomprehended only as the complete triumph of the Apollonian illusion:\r\nit is the same kind of illusion as Nature so frequently employs to\r\ncompass her ends. The true goal is veiled by a phantasm: we stretch out\r\nour hands for the latter, while Nature attains the former through our\r\nillusion. In the Greeks the \"will\" desired to contemplate itself in the\r\ntransfiguration of the genius and the world of art; in order to glorify\r\nthemselves, its creatures had to feel themselves worthy of glory;\r\nthey had to behold themselves again in a higher sphere, without this\r\nconsummate world of contemplation acting as an imperative or reproach.\r\nSuch is the sphere of beauty, in which, as in a mirror, they saw their\r\nimages, the Olympians. With this mirroring of beauty the Hellenic will\r\ncombated its talent—correlative to the artistic—for suffering and for\r\nthe wisdom of suffering: and, as a monument of its victory, Homer, the\r\nnaïve artist, stands before us.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_38\"\u003e[Pg 38]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e4.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eConcerning this naïve artist the analogy of dreams will enlighten us to\r\nsome extent. When we realise to ourselves the dreamer, as, in the midst\r\nof the illusion of the dream-world and without disturbing it, he calls\r\nout to himself: \"it is a dream, I will dream on\"; when we must thence\r\ninfer a deep inner joy in dream-contemplation; when, on the other hand,\r\nto be at all able to dream with this inner joy in contemplation, we\r\nmust have completely forgotten the day and its terrible obtrusiveness,\r\nwe may, under the direction of the dream-reading Apollo, interpret\r\nall these phenomena to ourselves somewhat as follows. Though it is\r\ncertain that of the two halves of life, the waking and the dreaming,\r\nthe former appeals to us as by far the more preferred, important,\r\nexcellent and worthy of being lived, indeed, as that which alone is\r\nlived: yet, with reference to that mysterious ground of our being of\r\nwhich we are the phenomenon, I should, paradoxical as it may seem, be\r\ninclined to maintain the very opposite estimate of the value of dream\r\nlife. For the more clearly I perceive in nature those all-powerful art\r\nimpulses, and in them a fervent longing for appearance, for redemption\r\nthrough appearance, the more I feel myself driven to the metaphysical\r\nassumption that the Verily-Existent and Primordial Unity, as the\r\nEternally Suffering and Self-Contradictory, requires the rapturous\r\nvision, the joyful appearance, for its continuous salvation: which\r\nappearance we, who are completely wrapt\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_39\"\u003e[Pg 39]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e in it and composed of it, must\r\nregard as the Verily Non-existent,—\u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e as a perpetual unfolding\r\nin time, space and causality,—in other words, as empiric reality.\r\nIf we therefore waive the consideration of our own \"reality\" for the\r\npresent, if we conceive our empiric existence, and that of the world\r\ngenerally, as a representation of the Primordial Unity generated every\r\nmoment, we shall then have to regard the dream as an \u003ci\u003eappearance of\r\nappearance,\u003c/i\u003e hence as a still higher gratification of the primordial\r\ndesire for appearance. It is for this same reason that the innermost\r\nheart of Nature experiences that indescribable joy in the naïve artist\r\nand in the naïve work of art, which is likewise only \"an appearance of\r\nappearance.\" In a symbolic painting, \u003ci\u003eRaphael\u003c/i\u003e, himself one of these\r\nimmortal \"naïve\" ones, has represented to us this depotentiating of\r\nappearance to appearance, the primordial process of the naïve artist\r\nand at the same time of Apollonian culture. In his \u003ci\u003eTransfiguration,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nthe lower half, with the possessed boy, the despairing bearers, the\r\nhelpless, terrified disciples, shows to us the reflection of eternal\r\nprimordial pain, the sole basis of the world: the \"appearance\" here\r\nis the counter-appearance of eternal Contradiction, the father of\r\nthings. Out of this appearance then arises, like an ambrosial vapour, a\r\nvisionlike new world of appearances, of which those wrapt in the first\r\nappearance see nothing—a radiant floating in purest bliss and painless\r\nContemplation beaming from wide-open eyes. Here there is presented to\r\nour view, in the highest symbolism of art, that Apollonian world of\r\nbeauty and its substratum,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_40\"\u003e[Pg 40]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the terrible wisdom of Silenus, and we\r\ncomprehend, by intuition, their necessary interdependence. Apollo,\r\nhowever, again appears to us as the apotheosis of the \u003ci\u003eprincipium\r\nindividuationis,\u003c/i\u003e in which alone the perpetually attained end of the\r\nPrimordial Unity, its redemption through appearance, is consummated: he\r\nshows us, with sublime attitudes, how the entire world of torment is\r\nnecessary, that thereby the individual may be impelled to realise the\r\nredeeming vision, and then, sunk in contemplation thereof, quietly sit\r\nin his fluctuating barque, in the midst of the sea.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis apotheosis of individuation, if it be at all conceived as\r\nimperative and laying down precepts, knows but one law—the individual,\r\n\u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e the observance of the boundaries of the individual,\r\n\u003ci\u003emeasure\u003c/i\u003e in the Hellenic sense. Apollo, as ethical deity, demands\r\ndue proportion of his disciples, and, that this may be observed, he\r\ndemands self-knowledge. And thus, parallel to the æsthetic necessity\r\nfor beauty, there run the demands \"know thyself\" and \"not too much,\"\r\nwhile presumption and undueness are regarded as the truly hostile\r\ndemons of the non-Apollonian sphere, hence as characteristics of the\r\npre-Apollonian age, that of the Titans, and of the extra-Apollonian\r\nworld, that of the barbarians. Because of his Titan-like love for\r\nman, Prometheus had to be torn to pieces by vultures; because of his\r\nexcessive wisdom, which solved the riddle of the Sphinx, Œdipus had\r\nto plunge into a bewildering vortex of monstrous crimes: thus did the\r\nDelphic god interpret the Grecian past.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_41\"\u003e[Pg 41]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSo also the effects wrought by the \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e appeared \"titanic\" and\r\n\"barbaric\" to the Apollonian Greek: while at the same time he could\r\nnot conceal from himself that he too was inwardly related to these\r\noverthrown Titans and heroes. Indeed, he had to recognise still more\r\nthan this: his entire existence, with all its beauty and moderation,\r\nrested on a hidden substratum of suffering and of knowledge, which\r\nwas again disclosed to him by the Dionysian. And lo! Apollo could not\r\nlive without Dionysus! The \"titanic\" and the \"barbaric\" were in the\r\nend not less necessary than the Apollonian. And now let us imagine to\r\nourselves how the ecstatic tone of the Dionysian festival sounded in\r\never more luring and bewitching strains into this artificially confined\r\nworld built on appearance and moderation, how in these strains all\r\nthe \u003ci\u003eundueness\u003c/i\u003e of nature, in joy, sorrow, and knowledge, even to\r\nthe transpiercing shriek, became audible: let us ask ourselves what\r\nmeaning could be attached to the psalmodising artist of Apollo, with\r\nthe phantom harp-sound, as compared with this demonic folk-song! The\r\nmuses of the arts of \"appearance\" paled before an art which, in its\r\nintoxication, spoke the truth, the wisdom of Silenus cried \"woe! woe!\"\r\nagainst the cheerful Olympians. The individual, with all his boundaries\r\nand due proportions, went under in the self-oblivion of the Dionysian\r\nstates and forgot the Apollonian precepts. The \u003ci\u003eUndueness\u003c/i\u003e revealed\r\nitself as truth, contradiction, the bliss born of pain, declared itself\r\nbut of the heart of nature. And thus, wherever the Dionysian prevailed,\r\nthe Apollonian was\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_42\"\u003e[Pg 42]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e routed and annihilated. But it is quite as certain\r\nthat, where the first assault was successfully withstood, the authority\r\nand majesty of the Delphic god exhibited itself as more rigid and\r\nmenacing than ever. For I can only explain to myself the \u003ci\u003eDoric\u003c/i\u003e state\r\nand Doric art as a permanent war-camp of the Apollonian: only by\r\nincessant opposition to the titanic-barbaric nature of the Dionysian\r\nwas it possible for an art so defiantly-prim, so encompassed with\r\nbulwarks, a training so warlike and rigorous, a constitution so cruel\r\nand relentless, to last for any length of time.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eUp to this point we have enlarged upon the observation made at the\r\nbeginning of this essay: how the Dionysian and the Apollonian, in ever\r\nnew births succeeding and mutually augmenting one another, controlled\r\nthe Hellenic genius: how from out the age of \"bronze,\" with its Titan\r\nstruggles and rigorous folk-philosophy, the Homeric world develops\r\nunder the fostering sway of the Apollonian impulse to beauty, how this\r\n\"naïve\" splendour is again overwhelmed by the inbursting flood of the\r\nDionysian, and how against this new power the Apollonian rises to the\r\naustere majesty of Doric art and the Doric view of things. If, then,\r\nin this way, in the strife of these two hostile principles, the older\r\nHellenic history falls into four great periods of art, we are now\r\ndriven to inquire after the ulterior purpose of these unfoldings and\r\nprocesses, unless perchance we should regard the last-attained period,\r\nthe period of Doric art, as the end and aim of these artistic impulses:\r\nand here the sublime and highly celebrated art-work of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_43\"\u003e[Pg 43]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e \u003ci\u003eAttic tragedy\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand dramatic dithyramb presents itself to our view as the common\r\ngoal of both these impulses, whose mysterious union, after many and\r\nlong precursory struggles, found its glorious consummation in such a\r\nchild,—which is at once Antigone and Cassandra.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e5.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe now approach the real purpose of our investigation, which aims\r\nat acquiring a knowledge of the Dionyso-Apollonian genius and his\r\nart-work, or at least an anticipatory understanding of the mystery of\r\nthe aforesaid union. Here we shall ask first of all where that new\r\ngerm which subsequently developed into tragedy and dramatic dithyramb\r\nfirst makes itself perceptible in the Hellenic world. The ancients\r\nthemselves supply the answer in symbolic form, when they place \u003ci\u003eHomer\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand \u003ci\u003eArchilochus\u003c/i\u003e as the forefathers and torch-bearers of Greek poetry\r\nside by side on gems, sculptures, etc., in the sure conviction that\r\nonly these two thoroughly original compeers, from whom a stream of\r\nfire flows over the whole of Greek posterity, should be taken into\r\nconsideration. Homer, the aged dreamer sunk in himself, the type\r\nof the Apollonian naïve artist, beholds now with astonishment the\r\nimpassioned genius of the warlike votary of the muses, Archilochus,\r\nviolently tossed to and fro on the billows of existence: and modern\r\næsthetics could only add by way of interpretation, that here the\r\n\"objective\" artist is confronted by the first \"subjective\" artist.\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_44\"\u003e[Pg 44]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nBut this interpretation is of little service to us, because we know\r\nthe subjective artist only as the poor artist, and in every type and\r\nelevation of art we demand specially and first of all the conquest\r\nof the Subjective, the redemption from the \"ego\" and the cessation\r\nof every individual will and desire; indeed, we find it impossible\r\nto believe in any truly artistic production, however insignificant,\r\nwithout objectivity, without pure, interestless contemplation. Hence\r\nour æsthetics must first solve the problem as to how the \"lyrist\" is\r\npossible as an artist: he who according to the experience of all ages\r\ncontinually says \"I\" and sings off to us the entire chromatic scale of\r\nhis passions and desires. This very Archilochus appals us, alongside\r\nof Homer, by his cries of hatred and scorn, by the drunken outbursts\r\nof his desire. Is not just he then, who has been called the first\r\nsubjective artist, the non-artist proper? But whence then the reverence\r\nwhich was shown to him—the poet—in very remarkable utterances by the\r\nDelphic oracle itself, the focus of \"objective\" art?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchiller\u003c/i\u003e has enlightened us concerning his poetic procedure by a\r\npsychological observation, inexplicable to himself, yet not apparently\r\nopen to any objection. He acknowledges that as the preparatory state\r\nto the act of poetising he had not perhaps before him or within him a\r\nseries of pictures with co-ordinate causality of thoughts, but rather\r\na \u003ci\u003emusical mood\u003c/i\u003e (\"The perception with me is at first without a clear\r\nand definite object; this forms itself later. A certain musical mood\r\nof\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_45\"\u003e[Pg 45]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e mind precedes, and only after this does the poetical idea follow\r\nwith me.\") Add to this the most important phenomenon of all ancient\r\nlyric poetry, \u003ci\u003ethe union,\u003c/i\u003e regarded everywhere as natural, \u003ci\u003eof the\r\nlyrist with the musician,\u003c/i\u003e their very identity, indeed,—compared\r\nwith which our modern lyric poetry is like the statue of a god without\r\na head,—and we may now, on the basis of our metaphysics of æsthetics\r\nset forth above, interpret the lyrist to ourselves as follows. As\r\nDionysian artist he is in the first place become altogether one with\r\nthe Primordial Unity, its pain and contradiction, and he produces the\r\ncopy of this Primordial Unity as music, granting that music has been\r\ncorrectly termed a repetition and a recast of the world; but now, under\r\nthe Apollonian dream-inspiration, this music again becomes visible\r\nto him as in a \u003ci\u003esymbolic dream-picture.\u003c/i\u003e The formless and intangible\r\nreflection of the primordial pain in music, with its redemption in\r\nappearance, then generates a second mirroring as a concrete symbol or\r\nexample. The artist has already surrendered his subjectivity in the\r\nDionysian process: the picture which now shows to him his oneness with\r\nthe heart of the world, is a dream-scene, which embodies the primordial\r\ncontradiction and primordial pain, together with the primordial joy, of\r\nappearance. The \"I\" of the lyrist sounds therefore from the abyss of\r\nbeing: its \"subjectivity,\" in the sense of the modern æsthetes, is a\r\nfiction. When Archilochus, the first lyrist of the Greeks, makes known\r\nboth his mad love and his contempt to the daughters of Lycambes, it is\r\nnot his passion which\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_46\"\u003e[Pg 46]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e dances before us in orgiastic frenzy: we see\r\nDionysus and the Mænads, we see the drunken reveller Archilochus sunk\r\ndown to sleep—as Euripides depicts it in the Bacchæ, the sleep on the\r\nhigh Alpine pasture, in the noonday sun:—and now Apollo approaches and\r\ntouches him with the laurel. The Dionyso-musical enchantment of the\r\nsleeper now emits, as it were, picture sparks, lyrical poems, which in\r\ntheir highest development are called tragedies and dramatic dithyrambs.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe plastic artist, as also the epic poet, who is related to him, is\r\nsunk in the pure contemplation of pictures. The Dionysian musician\r\nis, without any picture, himself just primordial pain and the\r\nprimordial re-echoing thereof. The lyric genius is conscious of a\r\nworld of pictures and symbols—growing out of the state of mystical\r\nself-abnegation and oneness,—which has a colouring causality and\r\nvelocity quite different from that of the world of the plastic artist\r\nand epic poet. While the latter lives in these pictures, and only in\r\nthem, with joyful satisfaction, and never grows tired of contemplating\r\nthem with love, even in their minutest characters, while even the\r\npicture of the angry Achilles is to him but a picture, the angry\r\nexpression of which he enjoys with the dream-joy in appearance—so\r\nthat, by this mirror of appearance, he is guarded against being unified\r\nand blending with his figures;—the pictures of the lyrist on the other\r\nhand are nothing but \u003ci\u003ehis very\u003c/i\u003e self and, as it were, only different\r\nprojections of himself, on account of which he as the moving centre\r\nof this world is entitled to say \"I\": only\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_47\"\u003e[Pg 47]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of course this self is\r\nnot the same as that of the waking, empirically real man, but the\r\nonly verily existent and eternal self resting at the basis of things,\r\nby means of the images whereof the lyric genius sees through even to\r\nthis basis of things. Now let us suppose that he beholds \u003ci\u003ehimself\u003c/i\u003e\r\nalso among these images as non-genius, \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e his subject, the whole\r\nthrong of subjective passions and impulses of the will directed to a\r\ndefinite object which appears real to him; if now it seems as if the\r\nlyric genius and the allied non-genius were one, and as if the former\r\nspoke that little word \"I\" of his own accord, this appearance will no\r\nlonger be able to lead us astray, as it certainly led those astray who\r\ndesignated the lyrist as the subjective poet. In truth, Archilochus,\r\nthe passionately inflamed, loving and hating man, is but a vision of\r\nthe genius, who by this time is no longer Archilochus, but a genius\r\nof the world, who expresses his primordial pain symbolically in the\r\nfigure of the man Archilochus: while the subjectively willing and\r\ndesiring man, Archilochus, can never at any time be a poet. It is by no\r\nmeans necessary, however, that the lyrist should see nothing but the\r\nphenomenon of the man Archilochus before him as a reflection of eternal\r\nbeing; and tragedy shows how far the visionary world of the lyrist may\r\ndepart from this phenomenon, to which, of course, it is most intimately\r\nrelated.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchopenhauer,\u003c/i\u003e who did not shut his eyes to the difficulty presented\r\nby the lyrist in the philosophical contemplation of art, thought he\r\nhad found a way out of it, on which, however, I cannot\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_48\"\u003e[Pg 48]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e accompany him;\r\nwhile he alone, in his profound metaphysics of music, held in his\r\nhands the means whereby this difficulty could be definitely removed:\r\nas I believe I have removed it here in his spirit and to his honour.\r\nIn contrast to our view, he describes the peculiar nature of song\r\nas follows\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_4_6\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_4_6\"\u003e[4]\u003c/a\u003e (\u003ci\u003eWelt als Wille und Vorstellung,\u003c/i\u003e I. 295):—\"It is\r\nthe subject of the will, \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e his own volition, which fills the\r\nconsciousness of the singer; often as an unbound and satisfied desire\r\n(joy), but still more often as a restricted desire (grief), always as\r\nan emotion, a passion, or an agitated frame of mind. Besides this,\r\nhowever, and along with it, by the sight of surrounding nature, the\r\nsinger becomes conscious of himself as the subject of pure will-less\r\nknowing, the unbroken, blissful peace of which now appears, in contrast\r\nto the stress of desire, which is always restricted and always needy.\r\nThe feeling of this contrast, this alternation, is really what the\r\nsong as a whole expresses and what principally constitutes the lyrical\r\nstate of mind. In it pure knowing comes to us as it were to deliver us\r\nfrom desire and the stress thereof: we follow, but only for an instant;\r\nfor desire, the remembrance of our personal ends, tears us anew from\r\npeaceful contemplation; yet ever again the next beautiful surrounding\r\nin which the pure will-less knowledge presents itself to us, allures\r\nus away from desire. Therefore, in song and in the lyrical mood,\r\ndesire\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_49\"\u003e[Pg 49]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e (the personal interest of the ends) and the pure perception of\r\nthe surrounding which presents itself, are wonderfully mingled with\r\neach other; connections between them are sought for and imagined; the\r\nsubjective disposition, the affection of the will, imparts its own\r\nhue to the contemplated surrounding, and conversely, the surroundings\r\ncommunicate the reflex of their colour to the will. The true song is\r\nthe expression of the whole of this mingled and divided state of mind.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWho could fail to see in this description that lyric poetry is here\r\ncharacterised as an imperfectly attained art, which seldom and only\r\nas it were in leaps arrives at its goal, indeed, as a semi-art, the\r\nessence of which is said to consist in this, that desire and pure\r\ncontemplation, \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e the unæsthetic and the æsthetic condition, are\r\nwonderfully mingled with each other? We maintain rather, that this\r\nentire antithesis, according to which, as according to some standard\r\nof value, Schopenhauer, too, still classifies the arts, the antithesis\r\nbetween the subjective and the objective, is quite out of place in\r\næsthetics, inasmuch as the subject \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e the desiring individual who\r\nfurthers his own egoistic ends, can be conceived only as the adversary,\r\nnot as the origin of art. In so far as the subject is the artist,\r\nhowever, he has already been released from his individual will, and has\r\nbecome as it were the medium, through which the one verily existent\r\nSubject celebrates his redemption in appearance. For this one thing\r\nmust above all be clear to us, to our humiliation \u003ci\u003eand\u003c/i\u003e exaltation,\r\nthat the entire comedy of art is not at all performed,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_50\"\u003e[Pg 50]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e say, for our\r\nbetterment and culture, and that we are just as little the true authors\r\nof this art-world: rather we may assume with regard to ourselves, that\r\nits true author uses us as pictures and artistic projections, and that\r\nwe have our highest dignity in our significance as works of art—for\r\nonly as an \u003ci\u003eæsthetic phenomenon\u003c/i\u003e is existence and the world eternally\r\n\u003ci\u003ejustified:\u003c/i\u003e—while of course our consciousness of this our specific\r\nsignificance hardly differs from the kind of consciousness which the\r\nsoldiers painted on canvas have of the battle represented thereon.\r\nHence all our knowledge of art is at bottom quite illusory, because, as\r\nknowing persons we are not one and identical with the Being who, as the\r\nsole author and spectator of this comedy of art, prepares a perpetual\r\nentertainment for himself. Only in so far as the genius in the act of\r\nartistic production coalesces with this primordial artist of the world,\r\ndoes he get a glimpse of the eternal essence of art, for in this state\r\nhe is, in a marvellous manner, like the weird picture of the fairy-tale\r\nwhich can at will turn its eyes and behold itself; he is now at once\r\nsubject and object, at once poet, actor, and spectator.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_4_6\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_4_6\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[4]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ci\u003eWorld as Will and Idea,\u003c/i\u003e I. 323, 4th ed. of Haldane and\r\nKemp\u0027s translation. Quoted with a few changes.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e6.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWith reference to Archilochus, it has been established by critical\r\nresearch that he introduced the \u003ci\u003efolk-song\u003c/i\u003e into literature, and,\r\non account thereof, deserved, according to the general estimate of\r\nthe Greeks, his unique position alongside of Homer. But what is this\r\npopular folk-song in\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_51\"\u003e[Pg 51]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e contrast to the wholly Apollonian epos? What\r\nelse but the \u003ci\u003eperpetuum vestigium\u003c/i\u003e of a union of the Apollonian and\r\nthe Dionysian? Its enormous diffusion among all peoples, still further\r\nenhanced by ever new births, testifies to the power of this artistic\r\ndouble impulse of nature: which leaves its vestiges in the popular\r\nsong in like manner as the orgiastic movements of a people perpetuate\r\nthemselves in its music. Indeed, one might also furnish historical\r\nproofs, that every period which is highly productive in popular songs\r\nhas been most violently stirred by Dionysian currents, which we must\r\nalways regard as the substratum and prerequisite of the popular song.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFirst of all, however, we regard the popular song as the musical mirror\r\nof the world, as the Original melody, which now seeks for itself a\r\nparallel dream-phenomenon and expresses it in poetry. \u003ci\u003eMelody is\r\ntherefore primary and universal,\u003c/i\u003e and as such may admit of several\r\nobjectivations, in several texts. Likewise, in the naïve estimation of\r\nthe people, it is regarded as by far the more important and necessary.\r\nMelody generates the poem out of itself by an ever-recurring process.\r\n\u003ci\u003eThe strophic form of the popular song\u003c/i\u003e points to the same phenomenon,\r\nwhich I always beheld with astonishment, till at last I found this\r\nexplanation. Any one who in accordance with this theory examines a\r\ncollection of popular songs, such as \"Des Knaben Wunderhorn,\" will find\r\ninnumerable instances of the perpetually productive melody scattering\r\npicture sparks all around: which in their variegation, their abrupt\r\nchange,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_52\"\u003e[Pg 52]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e their mad precipitance, manifest a power quite unknown to the\r\nepic appearance and its steady flow. From the point of view of the\r\nepos, this unequal and irregular pictorial world of lyric poetry must\r\nbe simply condemned: and the solemn epic rhapsodists of the Apollonian\r\nfestivals in the age of Terpander have certainly done so.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAccordingly, we observe that in the poetising of the popular song,\r\nlanguage is strained to its utmost \u003ci\u003eto imitate music;\u003c/i\u003e and hence a\r\nnew world of poetry begins with Archilochus, which is fundamentally\r\nopposed to the Homeric. And in saying this we have pointed out the\r\nonly possible relation between poetry and music, between word and\r\ntone: the word, the picture, the concept here seeks an expression\r\nanalogous to music and now experiences in itself the power of music.\r\nIn this sense we may discriminate between two main currents in the\r\nhistory of the language of the Greek people, according as their\r\nlanguage imitated either the world of phenomena and of pictures, or the\r\nworld of music. One has only to reflect seriously on the linguistic\r\ndifference with regard to colour, syntactical structure, and vocabulary\r\nin Homer and Pindar, in order to comprehend the significance of this\r\ncontrast; indeed, it becomes palpably clear to us that in the period\r\nbetween Homer and Pindar the \u003ci\u003eorgiastic flute tones of Olympus\u003c/i\u003e must\r\nhave sounded forth, which, in an age as late as Aristotle\u0027s, when\r\nmusic was infinitely more developed, transported people to drunken\r\nenthusiasm, and which, when their influence was first felt, undoubtedly\r\nincited all the poetic means of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_53\"\u003e[Pg 53]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e expression of contemporaneous man\r\nto imitation. I here call attention to a familiar phenomenon of our\r\nown times, against which our æsthetics raises many objections. We\r\nagain and again have occasion to observe how a symphony of Beethoven\r\ncompels the individual hearers to use figurative speech, though the\r\nappearance presented by a collocation of the different pictorial\r\nworld generated by a piece of music may be never so fantastically\r\ndiversified and even contradictory. To practise its small wit on such\r\ncompositions, and to overlook a phenomenon which is certainly worth\r\nexplaining, is quite in keeping with this æsthetics. Indeed, even if\r\nthe tone-poet has spoken in pictures concerning a composition, when for\r\ninstance he designates a certain symphony as the \"pastoral\" symphony,\r\nor a passage therein as \"the scene by the brook,\" or another as the\r\n\"merry gathering of rustics,\" these are likewise only symbolical\r\nrepresentations born out of music—and not perhaps the imitated objects\r\nof music—representations which can give us no information whatever\r\nconcerning the \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e content of music, and which in fact have\r\nno distinctive value of their own alongside of other pictorical\r\nexpressions. This process of a discharge of music in pictures we have\r\nnow to transfer to some youthful, linguistically productive people, to\r\nget a notion as to how the strophic popular song originates, and how\r\nthe entire faculty of speech is stimulated by this new principle of\r\nimitation of music.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf, therefore, we may regard lyric poetry as the effulguration of\r\nmusic in pictures and concepts,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_54\"\u003e[Pg 54]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e we can now ask: \"how does music\r\n\u003ci\u003eappear\u003c/i\u003e in the mirror of symbolism and conception?\" \u003ci\u003eIt appears as\r\nwill,\u003c/i\u003e taking the word in the Schopenhauerian sense, \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e as the\r\nantithesis of the æsthetic, purely contemplative, and passive frame\r\nof mind. Here, however, we must discriminate as sharply as possible\r\nbetween the concept of essentiality and the concept of phenominality;\r\nfor music, according to its essence, cannot be will, because as such it\r\nwould have to be wholly banished from the domain of art—for the will\r\nis the unæsthetic-in-itself;—yet it appears as will. For in order to\r\nexpress the phenomenon of music in pictures, the lyrist requires all\r\nthe stirrings of passion, from the whispering of infant desire to the\r\nroaring of madness. Under the impulse to speak of music in Apollonian\r\nsymbols, he conceives of all nature, and himself therein, only as the\r\neternally willing, desiring, longing existence. But in so far as he\r\ninterprets music by means of pictures, he himself rests in the quiet\r\ncalm of Apollonian contemplation, however much all around him which\r\nhe beholds through the medium of music is in a state of confused and\r\nviolent motion. Indeed, when he beholds himself through this same\r\nmedium, his own image appears to him in a state of unsatisfied feeling:\r\nhis own willing, longing, moaning and rejoicing are to him symbols by\r\nwhich he interprets music. Such is the phenomenon of the lyrist: as\r\nApollonian genius he interprets music through the image of the will,\r\nwhile he himself, completely released from the avidity of the will, is\r\nthe pure, undimmed eye of day.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_55\"\u003e[Pg 55]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOur whole disquisition insists on this, that lyric poetry is dependent\r\non the spirit of music just as music itself in its absolute sovereignty\r\ndoes not \u003ci\u003erequire\u003c/i\u003e the picture and the concept, but only \u003ci\u003eendures\u003c/i\u003e\r\nthem as accompaniments. The poems of the lyrist can express nothing\r\nwhich has not already been contained in the vast universality and\r\nabsoluteness of the music which compelled him to use figurative\r\nspeech. By no means is it possible for language adequately to render\r\nthe cosmic symbolism of music, for the very reason that music stands\r\nin symbolic relation to the primordial contradiction and primordial\r\npain in the heart of the Primordial Unity, and therefore symbolises a\r\nsphere which is above all appearance and before all phenomena. Rather\r\nshould we say that all phenomena, compared with it, are but symbols:\r\nhence \u003ci\u003elanguage,\u003c/i\u003e as the organ and symbol of phenomena, cannot at all\r\ndisclose the innermost essence, of music; language can only be in\r\nsuperficial contact with music when it attempts to imitate music; while\r\nthe profoundest significance of the latter cannot be brought one step\r\nnearer to us by all the eloquence of lyric poetry.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e7.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe shall now have to avail ourselves of all the principles of art\r\nhitherto considered, in order to find our way through the labyrinth,\r\nas we must designate \u003ci\u003ethe origin of Greek tragedy.\u003c/i\u003e I shall not be\r\ncharged with absurdity in saying that the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_56\"\u003e[Pg 56]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e problem of this origin has\r\nas yet not even been seriously stated, not to say solved, however\r\noften the fluttering tatters of ancient tradition have been sewed\r\ntogether in sundry combinations and torn asunder again. This tradition\r\ntells us in the most unequivocal terms, \u003ci\u003ethat tragedy sprang from the\r\ntragic chorus,\u003c/i\u003e and was originally only chorus and nothing but chorus:\r\nand hence we feel it our duty to look into the heart of this tragic\r\nchorus as being the real proto-drama, without in the least contenting\r\nourselves with current art-phraseology—according to which the chorus\r\nis the ideal spectator, or represents the people in contrast to the\r\nregal side of the scene. The latter explanatory notion, which sounds\r\nsublime to many a politician—that the immutable moral law was embodied\r\nby the democratic Athenians in the popular chorus, which always carries\r\nits point over the passionate excesses and extravagances of kings—may\r\nbe ever so forcibly suggested by an observation of Aristotle: still\r\nit has no bearing on the original formation of tragedy, inasmuch\r\nas the entire antithesis of king and people, and, in general, the\r\nwhole politico-social sphere, is excluded from the purely religious\r\nbeginnings of tragedy; but, considering the well-known classical\r\nform of the chorus in Æschylus and Sophocles, we should even deem\r\nit blasphemy to speak here of the anticipation of a \"constitutional\r\nrepresentation of the people,\" from which blasphemy others have not\r\nshrunk, however. The ancient governments knew of no constitutional\r\nrepresentation of the people \u003ci\u003ein praxi,\u003c/i\u003e and it is to\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_57\"\u003e[Pg 57]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e be hoped that\r\nthey did not even so much as \"anticipate\" it in tragedy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eMuch more celebrated than this political explanation of the chorus is\r\nthe notion of A. W. Schlegel, who advises us to regard the chorus, in\r\na manner, as the essence and extract of the crowd of spectators,—as\r\nthe \"ideal spectator.\" This view when compared with the historical\r\ntradition that tragedy was originally only chorus, reveals itself\r\nin its true character, as a crude, unscientific, yet brilliant\r\nassertion, which, however, has acquired its brilliancy only through\r\nits concentrated form of expression, through the truly Germanic bias\r\nin favour of whatever is called \"ideal,\" and through our momentary\r\nastonishment. For we are indeed astonished the moment we compare our\r\nwell-known theatrical public with this chorus, and ask ourselves if it\r\ncould ever be possible to idealise something analogous to the Greek\r\nchorus out of such a public. We tacitly deny this, and now wonder\r\nas much at the boldness of Schlegel\u0027s assertion as at the totally\r\ndifferent nature of the Greek public. For hitherto we always believed\r\nthat the true spectator, be he who he may, had always to remain\r\nconscious of having before him a work of art, and not an empiric\r\nreality: whereas the tragic chorus of the Greeks is compelled to\r\nrecognise real beings in the figures of the stage. The chorus of the\r\nOceanides really believes that it sees before it the Titan Prometheus,\r\nand considers itself as real as the god of the scene. And are we to\r\nown that he is the highest and purest type of spectator, who, like the\r\nOceanides, regards Prometheus as\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_58\"\u003e[Pg 58]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e real and present in body? And is it\r\ncharacteristic of the ideal spectator that he should run on the stage\r\nand free the god from his torments? We had believed in an æsthetic\r\npublic, and considered the individual spectator the better qualified\r\nthe more he was capable of viewing a work of art as art, that is,\r\næsthetically; but now the Schlegelian expression has intimated to us,\r\nthat the perfect ideal spectator does not at all suffer the world of\r\nthe scenes to act æsthetically on him, but corporeo-empirically. Oh,\r\nthese Greeks! we have sighed; they will upset our æsthetics! But once\r\naccustomed to it, we have reiterated the saying of Schlegel, as often\r\nas the subject of the chorus has been broached.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut the tradition which is so explicit here speaks against Schlegel:\r\nthe chorus as such, without the stage,—the primitive form of\r\ntragedy,—and the chorus of ideal spectators do not harmonise. What\r\nkind of art would that be which was extracted from the concept of the\r\nspectator, and whereof we are to regard the \"spectator as such\" as the\r\ntrue form? The spectator without the play is something absurd. We fear\r\nthat the birth of tragedy can be explained neither by the high esteem\r\nfor the moral intelligence of the multitude nor by the concept of the\r\nspectator without the play; and we regard the problem as too deep to be\r\neven so much as touched by such superficial modes of contemplation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAn infinitely more valuable insight into the signification of the\r\nchorus had already been displayed by Schiller in the celebrated Preface\r\nto his\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_59\"\u003e[Pg 59]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Bride of Messina, where he regarded the chorus as a living wall\r\nwhich tragedy draws round herself to guard her from contact with the\r\nworld of reality, and to preserve her ideal domain and poetical freedom.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is with this, his chief weapon, that Schiller combats the ordinary\r\nconception of the natural, the illusion ordinarily required in\r\ndramatic poetry. He contends that while indeed the day on the stage is\r\nmerely artificial, the architecture only symbolical, and the metrical\r\ndialogue purely ideal in character, nevertheless an erroneous view\r\nstill prevails in the main: that it is not enough to tolerate merely\r\nas a poetical license \u003ci\u003ethat\u003c/i\u003e which is in reality the essence of all\r\npoetry. The introduction of the chorus is, he says, the decisive step\r\nby which war is declared openly and honestly against all naturalism\r\nin art.—It is, methinks, for disparaging this mode of contemplation\r\nthat our would-be superior age has coined the disdainful catchword\r\n\"pseudo-idealism.\" I fear, however, that we on the other hand with our\r\npresent worship of the natural and the real have landed at the nadir\r\nof all idealism, namely in the region of cabinets of wax-figures. An\r\nart indeed exists also here, as in certain novels much in vogue at\r\npresent: but let no one pester us with the claim that by this art the\r\nSchiller-Goethian \"Pseudo-idealism\" has been vanquished.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is indeed an \"ideal\" domain, as Schiller rightly perceived,\r\nupon—which the Greek satyric chorus, the chorus of primitive tragedy,\r\nwas wont to walk, a domain raised far above the actual path\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_60\"\u003e[Pg 60]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of\r\nmortals. The Greek framed for this chorus the suspended scaffolding of\r\na fictitious \u003ci\u003enatural state\u003c/i\u003e and placed thereon fictitious \u003ci\u003enatural\r\nbeings.\u003c/i\u003e It is on this foundation that tragedy grew up, and so it\r\ncould of course dispense from the very first with a painful portrayal\r\nof reality. Yet it is, not an arbitrary world placed by fancy betwixt\r\nheaven and earth; rather is it a world possessing the same reality\r\nand trustworthiness that Olympus with its dwellers possessed for the\r\nbelieving Hellene. The satyr, as being the Dionysian chorist, lives\r\nin a religiously acknowledged reality under the sanction of the myth\r\nand cult. That tragedy begins with him, that the Dionysian wisdom of\r\ntragedy speaks through him, is just as surprising a phenomenon to us\r\nas, in general, the derivation of tragedy from the chorus. Perhaps\r\nwe shall get a starting-point for our inquiry, if I put forward the\r\nproposition that the satyr, the fictitious natural being, is to the\r\nman of culture what Dionysian music is to civilisation. Concerning\r\nthis latter, Richard Wagner says that it is neutralised by music even\r\nas lamplight by daylight. In like manner, I believe, the Greek man of\r\nculture felt himself neutralised in the presence of the satyric chorus:\r\nand this is the most immediate effect of the Dionysian tragedy, that\r\nthe state and society, and, in general, the gaps between man and man\r\ngive way to an overwhelming feeling of oneness, which leads back to\r\nthe heart of nature. The metaphysical comfort,—with which, as I have\r\nhere intimated, every true tragedy dismisses us—that, in spite of\r\nthe perpetual change of phenomena,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_61\"\u003e[Pg 61]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e life at bottom is indestructibly\r\npowerful and pleasurable, this comfort appears with corporeal lucidity\r\nas the satyric chorus, as the chorus of natural beings, who live\r\nineradicable as it were behind all civilisation, and who, in spite of\r\nthe ceaseless change of generations and the history of nations, remain\r\nfor ever the same.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWith this chorus the deep-minded Hellene, who is so singularly\r\nqualified for the most delicate and severe suffering, consoles\r\nhimself:—he who has glanced with piercing eye into the very heart of\r\nthe terrible destructive processes of so-called universal history, as\r\nalso into the cruelty of nature, and is in danger of longing for a\r\nBuddhistic negation of the will. Art saves him, and through art life\r\nsaves him—for herself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFor we must know that in the rapture of the Dionysian state, with its\r\nannihilation of the ordinary bounds and limits of existence, there is\r\na \u003ci\u003elethargic\u003c/i\u003e element, wherein all personal experiences of the past\r\nare submerged. It is by this gulf of oblivion that the everyday world\r\nand the world of Dionysian reality are separated from each other. But\r\nas soon as this everyday reality rises again in consciousness, it is\r\nfelt as such, and nauseates us; an ascetic will-paralysing mood is\r\nthe fruit of these states. In this sense the Dionysian man may be\r\nsaid to resemble Hamlet: both have for once seen into the true nature\r\nof things, —they have \u003ci\u003eperceived,\u003c/i\u003e but they are loath to act; for\r\ntheir action cannot change the eternal nature of things; they regard\r\nit as shameful or ridiculous that one should require of them to set\r\naright the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_62\"\u003e[Pg 62]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e time which is out of joint. Knowledge kills action, action\r\nrequires the veil of illusion—it is this lesson which Hamlet teaches,\r\nand not the cheap wisdom of John-a-Dreams who from too much reflection,\r\nas it were from a surplus of possibilities, does not arrive at action\r\nat all. Not reflection, no!—true knowledge, insight into appalling\r\ntruth, preponderates over all motives inciting to action, in Hamlet as\r\nwell as in the Dionysian man. No comfort avails any longer; his longing\r\ngoes beyond a world after death, beyond the gods themselves; existence\r\nwith its glittering reflection in the gods, or in an immortal other\r\nworld is abjured. In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived,\r\nman now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of\r\nexistence, he now understands the symbolism in the fate of Ophelia, he\r\nnow discerns the wisdom of the sylvan god Silenus: and loathing seizes\r\nhim.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere, in this extremest danger of the will, \u003ci\u003eart\u003c/i\u003e approaches, as a\r\nsaving and healing enchantress; she alone is able to transform these\r\nnauseating reflections on the awfulness or absurdity of existence\r\ninto representations wherewith it is possible to live: these are the\r\nrepresentations of the \u003ci\u003esublime\u003c/i\u003e as the artistic subjugation of the\r\nawful, and the \u003ci\u003ecomic\u003c/i\u003e as the artistic delivery from the nausea of\r\nthe absurd. The satyric chorus of dithyramb is the saving deed of\r\nGreek art; the paroxysms described above spent their force in the\r\nintermediary world of these Dionysian followers.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_63\"\u003e[Pg 63]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e8.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe satyr, like the idyllic shepherd of our more recent time, is the\r\noffspring of a longing after the Primitive and the Natural; but mark\r\nwith what firmness and fearlessness the Greek embraced the man of\r\nthe woods, and again, how coyly and mawkishly the modern man dallied\r\nwith the flattering picture of a tender, flute-playing, soft-natured\r\nshepherd! Nature, on which as yet no knowledge has been at work,\r\nwhich maintains unbroken barriers to culture—this is what the Greek\r\nsaw in his satyr, which still was not on this account supposed to\r\ncoincide with the ape. On the contrary: it was the archetype of\r\nman, the embodiment of his highest and strongest emotions, as the\r\nenthusiastic reveller enraptured By the proximity of his god, as the\r\nfellow-suffering companion in whom the suffering of the god repeats\r\nitself, as the herald of wisdom speaking from the very depths of\r\nnature, as the emblem of the sexual omnipotence of nature, which the\r\nGreek was wont to contemplate with reverential awe. The satyr was\r\nsomething sublime and godlike: he could not but appear so, especially\r\nto the sad and wearied eye of the Dionysian man. He would have been\r\noffended by our spurious tricked-up shepherd, while his eye dwelt\r\nwith sublime satisfaction on the naked and unstuntedly magnificent\r\ncharacters of nature: here the illusion of culture was brushed away\r\nfrom the archetype of man; here the true man, the bearded satyr,\r\nrevealed himself, who shouts joyfully to his god. Before\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_64\"\u003e[Pg 64]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e him the\r\ncultured man shrank to a lying caricature. Schiller is right also\r\nwith reference to these beginnings of tragic art: the chorus is a\r\nliving bulwark against the onsets of reality, because it—the satyric\r\nchorus—portrays existence more truthfully, more realistically, more\r\nperfectly than the cultured man who ordinarily considers himself as the\r\nonly reality. The sphere of poetry does not lie outside the world, like\r\nsome fantastic impossibility of a poet\u0027s imagination: it seeks to be\r\nthe very opposite, the unvarnished expression of truth, and must for\r\nthis very reason cast aside the false finery of that supposed reality\r\nof the cultured man. The contrast between this intrinsic truth of\r\nnature and the falsehood of culture, which poses as the only reality,\r\nis similar to that existing between the eternal kernel of things, the\r\nthing in itself, and the collective world of phenomena. And even as\r\ntragedy, with its metaphysical comfort, points to the eternal life of\r\nthis kernel of existence, notwithstanding the perpetual dissolution of\r\nphenomena, so the symbolism of the satyric chorus already expresses\r\nfiguratively this primordial relation between the thing in itself and\r\nphenomenon. The idyllic shepherd of the modern man is but a copy of the\r\nsum of the illusions of culture which he calls nature; the Dionysian\r\nGreek desires truth and nature in their most potent form;—he sees\r\nhimself metamorphosed into the satyr.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe revelling crowd of the votaries of Dionysus rejoices, swayed by\r\nsuch moods and perceptions, the power of which transforms them before\r\ntheir\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_65\"\u003e[Pg 65]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e own eyes, so that they imagine they behold themselves as\r\nreconstituted genii of nature, as satyrs. The later constitution of the\r\ntragic chorus is the artistic imitation of this natural phenomenon,\r\nwhich of course required a separation of the Dionysian spectators from\r\nthe enchanted Dionysians. However, we must never lose sight of the fact\r\nthat the public of the Attic tragedy rediscovered itself in the chorus\r\nof the orchestra, that there was in reality no antithesis of public\r\nand chorus: for all was but one great sublime chorus of dancing and\r\nsinging satyrs, or of such as allowed themselves to be represented by\r\nthe satyrs. The Schlegelian observation must here reveal itself to us\r\nin a deeper sense. The chorus is the \"ideal spectator\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_5_7\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_5_7\"\u003e[5]\u003c/a\u003e in so far as\r\nit is the only \u003ci\u003ebeholder,\u003c/i\u003e\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_6_8\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_6_8\"\u003e[6]\u003c/a\u003e the beholder of the visionary world of\r\nthe scene. A public of spectators, as known to us, was unknown to the\r\nGreeks. In their theatres the terraced structure of the spectators\u0027\r\nspace rising in concentric arcs enabled every one, in the strictest\r\nsense, to \u003ci\u003eoverlook\u003c/i\u003e the entire world of culture around him, and in\r\nsurfeited contemplation to imagine himself a chorist. According to\r\nthis view, then, we may call the chorus in its primitive stage in\r\nproto-tragedy, a self-mirroring of the Dionysian man: a phenomenon\r\nwhich may be best exemplified by the process of the actor, who, if he\r\nbe truly gifted, sees hovering before his eyes with almost tangible\r\nperceptibility the character he is to represent. The satyric chorus\r\nis first of all a\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_66\"\u003e[Pg 66]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e vision of the Dionysian throng, just as the world\r\nof the stage is, in turn, a vision of the satyric chorus: the power\r\nof this vision is great enough to render the eye dull and insensible\r\nto the impression of \"reality,\" to the presence of the cultured men\r\noccupying the tiers of seats on every side. The form of the Greek\r\ntheatre reminds one of a lonesome mountain-valley: the architecture of\r\nthe scene appears like a luminous cloud-picture which the Bacchants\r\nswarming on the mountains behold from the heights, as the splendid\r\nencirclement in the midst of which the image of Dionysus is revealed to\r\nthem.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOwing to our learned conception of the elementary artistic processes,\r\nthis artistic proto-phenomenon, which is here introduced to explain\r\nthe tragic chorus, is almost shocking: while nothing can be more\r\ncertain than that the poet is a poet only in that he beholds himself\r\nsurrounded by forms which live and act before him, into the innermost\r\nbeing of which his glance penetrates. By reason of a strange defeat in\r\nour capacities, we modern men are apt to represent to ourselves the\r\næsthetic proto-phenomenon as too complex and abstract. For the true\r\npoet the metaphor is not a rhetorical figure, but a vicarious image\r\nwhich actually hovers before him in place of a concept. The character\r\nis not for him an aggregate composed of a studied collection of\r\nparticular traits, but an irrepressibly live person appearing before\r\nhis eyes, and differing only from the corresponding vision of the\r\npainter by its ever continued life and action. Why is it that\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_67\"\u003e[Pg 67]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Homer\r\nsketches much more vividly\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_7_9\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_7_9\"\u003e[7]\u003c/a\u003e than all the other poets? Because he\r\ncontemplates\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_8_10\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_8_10\"\u003e[8]\u003c/a\u003e much more. We talk so abstractly about poetry, because\r\nwe are all wont to be bad poets. At bottom the æsthetic phenomenon is\r\nsimple: let a man but have the faculty of perpetually seeing a lively\r\nplay and of constantly living surrounded by hosts of spirits, then he\r\nis a poet: let him but feel the impulse to transform himself and to\r\ntalk from out the bodies and souls of others, then he is a dramatist.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe Dionysian excitement is able to impart to a whole mass of men\r\nthis artistic faculty of seeing themselves surrounded by such a host\r\nof spirits, with whom they know themselves to be inwardly one. This\r\nfunction of the tragic chorus is the \u003ci\u003edramatic\u003c/i\u003e proto-phenomenon: to\r\nsee one\u0027s self transformed before one\u0027s self, and then to act as if\r\none had really entered into another body, into another character. This\r\nfunction stands at the beginning of the development of the drama.\r\nHere we have something different from the rhapsodist, who does not\r\nblend with his pictures, but only sees them, like the painter, with\r\ncontemplative eye outside of him; here we actually have a surrender\r\nof the individual by his entering into another nature. Moreover this\r\nphenomenon appears in the form of an epidemic: a whole throng feels\r\nitself metamorphosed in this wise. Hence it is that the dithyramb is\r\nessentially different from every other variety of the choric song. The\r\nvirgins, who with\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_68\"\u003e[Pg 68]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e laurel twigs in their hands solemnly proceed to\r\nthe temple of Apollo and sing a processional hymn, remain what they\r\nare and retain their civic names: the dithyrambic chorus is a chorus\r\nof transformed beings, whose civic past and social rank are totally\r\nforgotten: they have become the timeless servants of their god that\r\nlive aloof from all the spheres of society. Every other variety of\r\nthe choric lyric of the Hellenes is but an enormous enhancement of\r\nthe Apollonian unit-singer: while in the dithyramb we have before us\r\na community of unconscious actors, who mutually regard themselves as\r\ntransformed among one another.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis enchantment is the prerequisite of all dramatic art. In this\r\nenchantment the Dionysian reveller sees himself as a satyr, \u003ci\u003eand as\r\nsatyr he in turn beholds the god,\u003c/i\u003e that is, in his transformation he\r\nsees a new vision outside him as the Apollonian consummation of his\r\nstate. With this new vision the drama is complete.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAccording to this view, we must understand Greek tragedy as the\r\nDionysian chorus, which always disburdens itself anew in an Apollonian\r\nworld of pictures. The choric parts, therefore, with which tragedy is\r\ninterlaced, are in a manner the mother-womb of the entire so-called\r\ndialogue, that is, of the whole stage-world, of the drama proper. In\r\nseveral successive outbursts does this primordial basis of tragedy beam\r\nforth the vision of the drama, which is a dream-phenomenon throughout,\r\nand, as such, epic in character: on the other hand, however, as\r\nobjectivation of a\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_69\"\u003e[Pg 69]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Dionysian state, it does not represent the\r\nApollonian redemption in appearance, but, conversely, the dissolution\r\nof the individual and his unification with primordial existence.\r\nAccordingly, the drama is the Apollonian embodiment of Dionysian\r\nperceptions and influences, and is thereby separated from the epic as\r\nby an immense gap.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe \u003ci\u003echorus\u003c/i\u003e of Greek tragedy, the symbol of the mass of the people\r\nmoved by Dionysian excitement, is thus fully explained by our\r\nconception of it as here set forth. Whereas, being accustomed to the\r\nposition of a chorus on the modern stage, especially an operatic\r\nchorus, we could never comprehend why the tragic chorus of the Greeks\r\nshould be older, more primitive, indeed, more important than the\r\n\"action\" proper,—as has been so plainly declared by the voice of\r\ntradition; whereas, furthermore, we could not reconcile with this\r\ntraditional paramount importance and primitiveness the fact of the\r\nchorus\u0027 being composed only of humble, ministering beings; indeed, at\r\nfirst only of goatlike satyrs; whereas, finally, the orchestra before\r\nthe scene was always a riddle to us; we have learned to comprehend at\r\nlength that the scene, together with the action, was fundamentally\r\nand originally conceived only as a \u003ci\u003evision,\u003c/i\u003e that the only reality\r\nis just the chorus, which of itself generates the vision and speaks\r\nthereof with the entire symbolism of dancing, tone, and word. This\r\nchorus beholds in the vision its lord and master Dionysus, and is thus\r\nfor ever the \u003ci\u003eserving\u003c/i\u003e chorus: it sees how he, the god, suffers and\r\nglorifies himself, and therefore does not itself \u003ci\u003eact\u003c/i\u003e.\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_70\"\u003e[Pg 70]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e But though its\r\nattitude towards the god is throughout the attitude of ministration,\r\nthis is nevertheless the highest expression, the Dionysian expression\r\nof \u003ci\u003eNature,\u003c/i\u003e and therefore, like Nature herself, the chorus utters\r\noracles and wise sayings when transported with enthusiasm: as\r\n\u003ci\u003efellow-sufferer\u003c/i\u003e it is also the \u003ci\u003esage\u003c/i\u003e proclaiming truth from out the\r\nheart of Nature. Thus, then, originates the fantastic figure, which\r\nseems so shocking, of the wise and enthusiastic satyr, who is at the\r\nsame time \"the dumb man\" in contrast to the god: the image of Nature\r\nand her strongest impulses, yea, the symbol of Nature, and at the same\r\ntime the herald of her art and wisdom: musician, poet, dancer, and\r\nvisionary in one person.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAgreeably to this view, and agreeably to tradition, \u003ci\u003eDionysus,\u003c/i\u003e the\r\nproper stage-hero and focus of vision, is not at first actually present\r\nin the oldest period of tragedy, but is only imagined as present:\r\n\u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e tragedy is originally only \"chorus\" and not \"drama.\" Later\r\non the attempt is made to exhibit the god as real and to display the\r\nvisionary figure together with its glorifying encirclement before the\r\neyes of all; it is here that the \"drama\" in the narrow sense of the\r\nterm begins. To the dithyrambic chorus is now assigned the task of\r\nexciting the minds of the hearers to such a pitch of Dionysian frenzy,\r\nthat, when the tragic hero appears on the stage, they do not behold\r\nin him, say, the unshapely masked man, but a visionary figure, born\r\nas it were of their own ecstasy. Let us picture Admetes thinking\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_71\"\u003e[Pg 71]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e in\r\nprofound meditation of his lately departed wife Alcestis, and quite\r\nconsuming himself in spiritual contemplation thereof—when suddenly\r\nthe veiled figure of a woman resembling her in form and gait is led\r\ntowards him: let us picture his sudden trembling anxiety, his agitated\r\ncomparisons, his instinctive conviction—and we shall have an analogon\r\nto the sensation with which the spectator, excited to Dionysian frenzy,\r\nsaw the god approaching on the stage, a god with whose sufferings he\r\nhad already become identified. He involuntarily transferred the entire\r\npicture of the god, fluttering magically before his soul, to this\r\nmasked figure and resolved its reality as it were into a phantasmal\r\nunreality. This is the Apollonian dream-state, in which the world\r\nof day is veiled, and a new world, clearer, more intelligible, more\r\nstriking than the former, and nevertheless more shadowy, is ever born\r\nanew in perpetual change before our eyes. We accordingly recognise in\r\ntragedy a thorough-going stylistic contrast: the language, colour,\r\nflexibility and dynamics of the dialogue fall apart in the Dionysian\r\nlyrics of the chorus on the one hand, and in the Apollonian dream-world\r\nof the scene on the other, into entirely separate spheres of\r\nexpression. The Apollonian appearances, in which Dionysus objectifies\r\nhimself, are no longer \"ein ewiges Meer, ein wechselnd Weben, ein\r\nglühend Leben,\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_9_11\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_9_11\"\u003e[9]\u003c/a\u003e as is the music of the chorus,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_72\"\u003e[Pg 72]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e they are no longer\r\nthe forces merely felt, but not condensed into a picture, by which\r\nthe inspired votary of Dionysus divines the proximity of his god: the\r\nclearness and firmness of epic form now speak to him from the scene,\r\nDionysus now no longer speaks through forces, but as an epic hero,\r\nalmost in the language of Homer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_5_7\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_5_7\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[5]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Zuschauer.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_6_8\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_6_8\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[6]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Schauer.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_7_9\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_7_9\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[7]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Anschaulicher.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_8_10\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_8_10\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[8]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Anschaut.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_9_11\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_9_11\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[9]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e An eternal sea, A weaving, flowing, Life, all glowing.\r\n\u003ci\u003eFaust,\u003c/i\u003e trans. of Bayard Taylor.—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e9.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhatever rises to the surface in the dialogue of the Apollonian part\r\nof Greek tragedy, appears simple, transparent, beautiful. In this\r\nsense the dialogue is a copy of the Hellene, whose nature reveals\r\nitself in the dance, because in the dance the greatest energy is merely\r\npotential, but betrays itself nevertheless in flexible and vivacious\r\nmovements. The language of the Sophoclean heroes, for instance,\r\nsurprises us by its Apollonian precision and clearness, so that we at\r\nonce imagine we see into the innermost recesses of their being, and\r\nmarvel not a little that the way to these recesses is so short. But\r\nif for the moment we disregard the character of the hero which rises\r\nto the surface and grows visible—and which at bottom is nothing but\r\nthe light-picture cast on a dark wall, that is, appearance through and\r\nthrough,—if rather we enter into the myth which projects itself in\r\nthese bright mirrorings, we shall of a sudden experience a phenomenon\r\nwhich bears a reverse relation to one familiar in optics. When, after\r\na vigorous effort to gaze into the sun, we turn away blinded,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_73\"\u003e[Pg 73]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e we have\r\ndark-coloured spots before our eyes as restoratives, so to speak;\r\nwhile, on the contrary, those light-picture phenomena of the Sophoclean\r\nhero,—in short, the Apollonian of the mask,—are the necessary\r\nproductions of a glance into the secret and terrible things of nature,\r\nas it were shining spots to heal the eye which dire night has seared.\r\nOnly in this sense can we hope to be able to grasp the true meaning of\r\nthe serious and significant notion of \"Greek cheerfulness\"; while of\r\ncourse we encounter the misunderstood notion of this cheerfulness, as\r\nresulting from a state of unendangered comfort, on all the ways and\r\npaths of the present time.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe most sorrowful figure of the Greek stage, the hapless \u003ci\u003eŒdipus,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nwas understood by Sophocles as the noble man, who in spite of his\r\nwisdom was destined to error and misery, but nevertheless through\r\nhis extraordinary sufferings ultimately exerted a magical, wholesome\r\ninfluence on all around him, which continues effective even after\r\nhis death. The noble man does not sin; this is what the thoughtful\r\npoet wishes to tell us: all laws, all natural order, yea, the moral\r\nworld itself, may be destroyed through his action, but through this\r\nvery action a higher magic circle of influences is brought into play,\r\nwhich establish a new world on the ruins of the old that has been\r\noverthrown. This is what the poet, in so far as he is at the same time\r\na religious thinker, wishes to tell us: as poet, he shows us first of\r\nall a wonderfully complicated legal mystery, which the judge slowly\r\nunravels, link by link, to his own destruction.\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_74\"\u003e[Pg 74]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e The truly Hellenic\r\ndelight at this dialectical loosening is so great, that a touch of\r\nsurpassing cheerfulness is thereby communicated to the entire play,\r\nwhich everywhere blunts the edge of the horrible presuppositions of the\r\nprocedure. In the \"Œdipus at Colonus\" we find the same cheerfulness,\r\nelevated, however, to an infinite transfiguration: in contrast to\r\nthe aged king, subjected to an excess of misery, and exposed solely\r\nas a \u003ci\u003esufferer\u003c/i\u003e to all that befalls him, we have here a supermundane\r\ncheerfulness, which descends from a divine sphere and intimates to\r\nus that in his purely passive attitude the hero attains his highest\r\nactivity, the influence of which extends far beyond his life, while\r\nhis earlier conscious musing and striving led him only to passivity.\r\nThus, then, the legal knot of the fable of Œdipus, which to mortal\r\neyes appears indissolubly entangled, is slowly unravelled—and the\r\nprofoundest human joy comes upon us in the presence of this divine\r\ncounterpart of dialectics. If this explanation does justice to the\r\npoet, it may still be asked whether the substance of the myth is\r\nthereby exhausted; and here it turns out that the entire conception\r\nof the poet is nothing but the light-picture which healing nature\r\nholds up to us after a glance into the abyss. Œdipus, the murderer of\r\nhis father, the husband of his mother, Œdipus, the interpreter of the\r\nriddle of the Sphinx! What does the mysterious triad of these deeds\r\nof destiny tell us? There is a primitive popular belief, especially\r\nin Persia, that a wise Magian can be born only of incest: which\r\nwe have forthwith to interpret to ourselves with reference to the\r\nriddle-solving\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_75\"\u003e[Pg 75]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e and mother-marrying Œdipus, to the effect that when\r\nthe boundary of the present and future, the rigid law of individuation\r\nand, in general, the intrinsic spell of nature, are broken by prophetic\r\nand magical powers, an extraordinary counter-naturalness—as, in this\r\ncase, incest—must have preceded as a cause; for how else could one\r\nforce nature to surrender her secrets but by victoriously opposing her,\r\n\u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e by means of the Unnatural? It is this intuition which I see\r\nimprinted in the awful triad of the destiny of Œdipus: the very man\r\nwho solves the riddle of nature—that double-constituted Sphinx—must\r\nalso, as the murderer of his father and husband of his mother, break\r\nthe holiest laws of nature. Indeed, it seems as if the myth sought to\r\nwhisper into our ears that wisdom, especially Dionysian wisdom, is\r\nan unnatural abomination, and that whoever, through his knowledge,\r\nplunges nature into an abyss of annihilation, must also experience\r\nthe dissolution of nature in himself. \"The sharpness of wisdom turns\r\nround upon the sage: wisdom is a crime against nature\": such terrible\r\nexpressions does the myth call out to us: but the Hellenic poet touches\r\nlike a sunbeam the sublime and formidable Memnonian statue of the myth,\r\nso that it suddenly begins to sound—in Sophoclean melodies.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWith the glory of passivity I now contrast the glory of activity which\r\nilluminates the \u003ci\u003ePrometheus\u003c/i\u003e of Æschylus. That which Æschylus the\r\nthinker had to tell us here, but which as a poet he only allows us to\r\nsurmise by his symbolic picture, the youthful Goethe succeeded\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_76\"\u003e[Pg 76]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e in\r\ndisclosing to us in the daring words of his Prometheus:—\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\n\"Hier sitz\u0027 ich, forme Menschen\u003cbr\u003e\r\nNach meinem Bilde,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nEin Geschlecht, das mir gleich sei,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nZu leiden, zu weinen,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nZu geniessen und zu freuen sich,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nUnd dein nicht zu achten,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nWie ich!\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_10_12\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_10_12\"\u003e[10]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eMan, elevating himself to the rank of the Titans, acquires his culture\r\nby his own efforts, and compels the gods to unite with him, because\r\nin his self-sufficient wisdom he has their existence and their limits\r\nin his hand. What is most wonderful, however, in this Promethean\r\nform, which according to its fundamental conception is the specific\r\nhymn of impiety, is the profound Æschylean yearning for \u003ci\u003ejustice\u003c/i\u003e:\r\nthe untold sorrow of the bold \"single-handed being\" on the one hand,\r\nand the divine need, ay, the foreboding of a twilight of the gods, on\r\nthe other, the power of these two worlds of suffering constraining\r\nto reconciliation, to metaphysical oneness—all this suggests most\r\nforcibly the central and main position of the Æschylean\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_77\"\u003e[Pg 77]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e view of\r\nthings, which sees Moira as eternal justice enthroned above gods and\r\nmen. In view of the astonishing boldness with which Æschylus places the\r\nOlympian world on his scales of justice, it must be remembered that\r\nthe deep-minded Greek had an immovably firm substratum of metaphysical\r\nthought in his mysteries, and that all his sceptical paroxysms could\r\nbe discharged upon the Olympians. With reference to these deities,\r\nthe Greek artist, in particular, had an obscure feeling as to mutual\r\ndependency: and it is just in the Prometheus of Æschylus that this\r\nfeeling is symbolised. The Titanic artist found in himself the\r\ndaring belief that he could create men and at least destroy Olympian\r\ndeities: namely, by his superior wisdom, for which, to be sure, he had\r\nto atone by eternal suffering. The splendid \"can-ing\" of the great\r\ngenius, bought too cheaply even at the price of eternal suffering,\r\nthe stern pride of the \u003ci\u003eartist\u003c/i\u003e: this is the essence and soul of\r\nÆschylean poetry, while Sophocles in his Œdipus preludingly strikes up\r\nthe victory-song of the \u003ci\u003esaint\u003c/i\u003e. But even this interpretation which\r\nÆschylus has given to the myth does not fathom its astounding depth of\r\nterror; the fact is rather that the artist\u0027s delight in unfolding, the\r\ncheerfulness of artistic creating bidding defiance to all calamity,\r\nis but a shining stellar and nebular image reflected in a black sea\r\nof sadness. The tale of Prometheus is an original possession of the\r\nentire Aryan family of races, and documentary evidence of their\r\ncapacity for the profoundly tragic; indeed, it is not improbable that\r\nthis myth has the same characteristic significance\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_78\"\u003e[Pg 78]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e for the Aryan\r\nrace that the myth of the fall of man has for the Semitic, and that\r\nthere is a relationship between the two myths like that of brother and\r\nsister. The presupposition of the Promethean myth is the transcendent\r\nvalue which a naïve humanity attach to \u003ci\u003efire\u003c/i\u003e as the true palladium\r\nof every ascending culture: that man, however, should dispose at will\r\nof this fire, and should not receive it only as a gift from heaven,\r\nas the igniting lightning or the warming solar flame, appeared to the\r\ncontemplative primordial men as crime and robbery of the divine nature.\r\nAnd thus the first philosophical problem at once causes a painful,\r\nirreconcilable antagonism between man and God, and puts as it were\r\na mass of rock at the gate of every culture. The best and highest\r\nthat men can acquire they obtain by a crime, and must now in their\r\nturn take upon themselves its consequences, namely the whole flood of\r\nsufferings and sorrows with which the offended celestials \u003ci\u003emust\u003c/i\u003e visit\r\nthe nobly aspiring race of man: a bitter reflection, which, by the\r\n\u003ci\u003edignity\u003c/i\u003e it confers on crime, contrasts strangely with the Semitic\r\nmyth of the fall of man, in which curiosity, beguilement, seducibility,\r\nwantonness,—in short, a whole series of pre-eminently feminine\r\npassions,—were regarded as the origin of evil. What distinguishes\r\nthe Aryan representation is the sublime view of \u003ci\u003eactive sin\u003c/i\u003e as the\r\nproperly Promethean virtue, which suggests at the same time the ethical\r\nbasis of pessimistic tragedy as the \u003ci\u003ejustification\u003c/i\u003e of human evil—of\r\nhuman guilt as well as of the suffering incurred thereby. The misery in\r\nthe essence of things—which\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_79\"\u003e[Pg 79]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the contemplative Aryan is not disposed\r\nto explain away—the antagonism in the heart of the world, manifests\r\nitself to him as a medley of different worlds, for instance, a Divine\r\nand a human world, each of which is in the right individually, but\r\nas a separate existence alongside of another has to suffer for its\r\nindividuation. With the heroic effort made by the individual for\r\nuniversality, in his attempt to pass beyond the bounds of individuation\r\nand become the \u003ci\u003eone\u003c/i\u003e universal being, he experiences in himself the\r\nprimordial contradiction concealed in the essence of things, \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nhe trespasses and suffers. Accordingly crime\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_11_13\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_11_13\"\u003e[11]\u003c/a\u003e is understood by\r\nthe Aryans to be a man, sin\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_12_14\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_12_14\"\u003e[12]\u003c/a\u003e by the Semites a woman; as also, the\r\noriginal crime is committed by man, the original sin by woman. Besides,\r\nthe witches\u0027 chorus says:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\n\"Wir nehmen das nicht so genau:\u003cbr\u003e\r\nMit tausend Schritten macht\u0027s die Frau;\u003cbr\u003e\r\nDoch wie sie auch sich eilen kann\u003cbr\u003e\r\nMit einem Sprunge macht\u0027s der Mann.\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_13_15\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_13_15\"\u003e[13]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHe who understands this innermost core of the tale of\r\nPrometheus—namely the necessity of crime imposed on the titanically\r\nstriving individual—will at once be conscious of the un-Apollonian\r\nnature of this pessimistic representation: for Apollo seeks to pacify\r\nindividual beings precisely by drawing\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_80\"\u003e[Pg 80]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e boundary lines between them,\r\nand by again and again calling attention thereto, with his requirements\r\nof self-knowledge and due proportion, as the holiest laws of the\r\nuniverse. In order, however, to prevent the form from congealing to\r\nEgyptian rigidity and coldness in consequence of this Apollonian\r\ntendency, in order to prevent the extinction of the motion of the\r\nentire lake in the effort to prescribe to the individual wave its path\r\nand compass, the high tide of the Dionysian tendency destroyed from\r\ntime to time all the little circles in which the one-sided Apollonian\r\n\"will\" sought to confine the Hellenic world. The suddenly swelling\r\ntide of the Dionysian then takes the separate little wave-mountains of\r\nindividuals on its back, just as the brother of Prometheus, the Titan\r\nAtlas, does with the earth. This Titanic impulse, to become as it were\r\nthe Atlas of all individuals, and to carry them on broad shoulders\r\nhigher and higher, farther and farther, is what the Promethean and the\r\nDionysian have in common. In this respect the Æschylean Prometheus is\r\na Dionysian mask, while, in the afore-mentioned profound yearning for\r\njustice, Æschylus betrays to the intelligent observer his paternal\r\ndescent from Apollo, the god of individuation and of the boundaries\r\nof justice. And so the double-being of the Æschylean Prometheus, his\r\nconjoint Dionysian and Apollonian nature, might be thus expressed in\r\nan abstract formula: \"Whatever exists is alike just and unjust, and\r\nequally justified in both.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\nDas ist deine Welt! Das heisst eine Welt!\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_14_16\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_14_16\"\u003e[14]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_10_12\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_10_12\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[10]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n\"Here sit I, forming mankind\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn my image,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nA race resembling me,—\u003cbr\u003e\r\nTo sorrow and to weep,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nTo taste, to hold, to enjoy,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nAnd not have need of thee,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nAs I!\"\u003cbr\u003e\r\n(Translation in Hæckel\u0027s \u003ci\u003eHistory of the Evolution of Man.\u003c/i\u003e)\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_11_13\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_11_13\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[11]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ci\u003eDer\u003c/i\u003e Frevel.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_12_14\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_12_14\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[12]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ci\u003eDie\u003c/i\u003e Sünde.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_13_15\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_13_15\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[13]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWe do not measure with such care:\u003cbr\u003e\r\nWoman in thousand steps is there,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nBut howsoe\u0027er she hasten may.\u003cbr\u003e\r\nMan in one leap has cleared the way.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003ci\u003eFaust,\u003c/i\u003e trans. of Bayard Taylor.—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_14_16\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_14_16\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[14]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e This is thy world, and what a world!—\u003ci\u003eFaust.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_81\"\u003e[Pg 81]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e10.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is an indisputable tradition that Greek tragedy in its earliest\r\nform had for its theme only the sufferings of Dionysus, and that for\r\nsome time the only stage-hero therein was simply Dionysus himself.\r\nWith the same confidence, however, we can maintain that not until\r\nEuripides did Dionysus cease to be the tragic hero, and that in fact\r\nall the celebrated figures of the Greek stage—Prometheus, Œdipus,\r\netc.—are but masks of this original hero, Dionysus. The presence of a\r\ngod behind all these masks is the one essential cause of the typical\r\n\"ideality,\" so oft exciting wonder, of these celebrated figures. Some\r\none, I know not whom, has maintained that all individuals are comic as\r\nindividuals and are consequently un-tragic: from whence it might be\r\ninferred that the Greeks in general \u003ci\u003ecould\u003c/i\u003e not endure individuals on\r\nthe tragic stage. And they really seem to have had these sentiments:\r\nas, in general, it is to be observed that the Platonic discrimination\r\nand valuation of the \"idea\" in contrast to the \"eidolon,\" the image,\r\nis deeply rooted in the Hellenic being. Availing ourselves of Plato\u0027s\r\nterminology, however, we should have to speak of the tragic figures of\r\nthe Hellenic stage somewhat as follows. The one truly real Dionysus\r\nappears in a multiplicity of forms, in the mask of a fighting hero\r\nand entangled, as it were, in the net of an individual will. As the\r\nvisibly appearing god now talks and acts, he resembles an erring,\r\nstriving, suffering\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_82\"\u003e[Pg 82]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e individual: and that, in general, he \u003ci\u003eappears\u003c/i\u003e\r\nwith such epic precision and clearness, is due to the dream-reading\r\nApollo, who reads to the chorus its Dionysian state through this\r\nsymbolic appearance. In reality, however, this hero is the suffering\r\nDionysus of the mysteries, a god experiencing in himself the sufferings\r\nof individuation, of whom wonderful myths tell that as a boy he was\r\ndismembered by the Titans and has been worshipped in this state\r\nas Zagreus:\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_15_17\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_15_17\"\u003e[15]\u003c/a\u003e whereby is intimated that this dismemberment, the\r\nproperly Dionysian \u003ci\u003esuffering,\u003c/i\u003e is like a transformation into air,\r\nwater, earth, and fire, that we must therefore regard the state of\r\nindividuation as the source and primal cause of all suffering, as\r\nsomething objectionable in itself. From the smile of this Dionysus\r\nsprang the Olympian gods, from his tears sprang man. In his existence\r\nas a dismembered god, Dionysus has the dual nature of a cruel\r\nbarbarised demon, and a mild pacific ruler. But the hope of the epopts\r\nlooked for a new birth of Dionysus, which we have now to conceive of in\r\nanticipation as the end of individuation: it was for this coming third\r\nDionysus that the stormy jubilation-hymns of the epopts resounded. And\r\nit is only this hope that sheds a ray of joy upon the features of a\r\nworld torn asunder and shattered into individuals: as is symbolised in\r\nthe myth by Demeter sunk in eternal sadness, who \u003ci\u003erejoices\u003c/i\u003e again only\r\nwhen told\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_83\"\u003e[Pg 83]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e that she may \u003ci\u003eonce more\u003c/i\u003e give birth to Dionysus In the views\r\nof things here given we already have all the elements of a profound and\r\npessimistic contemplation of the world, and along with these we have\r\nthe \u003ci\u003emystery doctrine of tragedy\u003c/i\u003e: the fundamental knowledge of the\r\noneness of all existing things, the consideration of individuation as\r\nthe primal cause of evil, and art as the joyous hope that the spell of\r\nindividuation may be broken, as the augury of a restored oneness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt has already been intimated that the Homeric epos is the poem\r\nof Olympian culture, wherewith this culture has sung its own song\r\nof triumph over the terrors of the war of the Titans. Under the\r\npredominating influence of tragic poetry, these Homeric myths are now\r\nreproduced anew, and show by this metempsychosis that meantime the\r\nOlympian culture also has been vanquished by a still deeper view of\r\nthings. The haughty Titan Prometheus has announced to his Olympian\r\ntormentor that the extremest danger will one day menace his rule,\r\nunless he ally with him betimes. In Æschylus we perceive the terrified\r\nZeus, apprehensive of his end, in alliance with the Titan. Thus, the\r\nformer age of the Titans is subsequently brought from Tartarus once\r\nmore to the light of day. The philosophy of wild and naked nature\r\nbeholds with the undissembled mien of truth the myths of the Homeric\r\nworld as they dance past: they turn pale, they tremble before the\r\nlightning glance of this goddess—till the powerful fist\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_16_18\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_16_18\"\u003e[16]\u003c/a\u003e of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_84\"\u003e[Pg 84]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nthe Dionysian artist forces them into the service of the new deity.\r\nDionysian truth takes over the entire domain of myth as symbolism of\r\n\u003ci\u003eits\u003c/i\u003e knowledge, which it makes known partly in the public cult of\r\ntragedy and partly in the secret celebration of the dramatic mysteries,\r\nalways, however, in the old mythical garb. What was the power, which\r\nfreed Prometheus from his vultures and transformed the myth into a\r\nvehicle of Dionysian wisdom? It is the Heracleian power of music:\r\nwhich, having reached its highest manifestness in tragedy, can invest\r\nmyths with a new and most profound significance, which we have already\r\nhad occasion to characterise as the most powerful faculty of music. For\r\nit is the fate of every myth to insinuate itself into the narrow limits\r\nof some alleged historical reality, and to be treated by some later\r\ngeneration as a solitary fact with historical claims: and the Greeks\r\nwere already fairly on the way to restamp the whole of their mythical\r\njuvenile dream sagaciously and arbitrarily into a historico-pragmatical\r\n\u003ci\u003ejuvenile history.\u003c/i\u003e For this is the manner in which religions are\r\nwont to die out: when of course under the stern, intelligent eyes of\r\nan orthodox dogmatism, the mythical presuppositions of a religion are\r\nsystematised as a completed sum of historical events, and when one\r\nbegins apprehensively to defend the credibility of the myth, while at\r\nthe same time opposing all continuation of their natural vitality and\r\nluxuriance; when, accordingly, the feeling for myth dies out, and its\r\nplace is taken by the claim of religion to historical\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_85\"\u003e[Pg 85]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e foundations.\r\nThis dying myth was now seized by the new-born genius of Dionysian\r\nmusic, in whose hands it bloomed once more, with such colours as it\r\nhad never yet displayed, with a fragrance that awakened a longing\r\nanticipation of a metaphysical world. After this final effulgence\r\nit collapses, its leaves wither, and soon the scoffing Lucians of\r\nantiquity catch at the discoloured and faded flowers which the winds\r\ncarry off in every direction. Through tragedy the myth attains its\r\nprofoundest significance, its most expressive form; it rises once more\r\nlike a wounded hero, and the whole surplus of vitality, together with\r\nthe philosophical calmness of the Dying, burns in its eyes with a last\r\npowerful gleam.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhat meantest thou, oh impious Euripides, in seeking once more to\r\nenthral this dying one? It died under thy ruthless hands: and then\r\nthou madest use of counterfeit, masked myth, which like the ape of\r\nHeracles could only trick itself out in the old finery. And as myth\r\ndied in thy hands, so also died the genius of music; though thou\r\ncouldst covetously plunder all the gardens of music—thou didst only\r\nrealise a counterfeit, masked music. And because thou hast forsaken\r\nDionysus. Apollo hath also forsaken thee; rout up all the passions from\r\ntheir haunts and conjure them into thy sphere, sharpen and polish a\r\nsophistical dialectics for the speeches of thy heroes—thy very heroes\r\nhave only counterfeit, masked passions, and speak only counterfeit,\r\nmasked music.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_15_17\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_15_17\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[15]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e See article by Mr. Arthur Symons in \u003ci\u003eThe Academy,\u003c/i\u003e 30th\r\nAugust 1902.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_16_18\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_16_18\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[16]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Die mächtige Faust.—Cf. \u003ci\u003eFaust,\u003c/i\u003e Chorus of\r\nSpirits.—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_86\"\u003e[Pg 86]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e11.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eGreek tragedy had a fate different from that of all her older sister\r\narts: she died by suicide, in consequence of an irreconcilable\r\nconflict; accordingly she died tragically, while they all passed away\r\nvery calmly and beautifully in ripe old age. For if it be in accordance\r\nwith a happy state of things to depart this life without a struggle,\r\nleaving behind a fair posterity, the closing period of these older\r\narts exhibits such a happy state of things: slowly they sink out of\r\nsight, and before their dying eyes already stand their fairer progeny,\r\nwho impatiently lift up their heads with courageous mien. The death of\r\nGreek tragedy, on the other hand, left an immense void, deeply felt\r\neverywhere. Even as certain Greek sailors in the time of Tiberius once\r\nheard upon a lonesome island the thrilling cry, \"great Pan is dead\": so\r\nnow as it were sorrowful wailing sounded through the Hellenic world:\r\n\"Tragedy is dead! Poetry itself has perished with her! Begone, begone,\r\nye stunted, emaciated epigones! Begone to Hades, that ye may for once\r\neat your fill of the crumbs of your former masters!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut when after all a new Art blossomed forth which revered tragedy as\r\nher ancestress and mistress, it was observed with horror that she did\r\nindeed bear the features of her mother, but those very features the\r\nlatter had exhibited in her long death-struggle. It was \u003ci\u003eEuripides\u003c/i\u003e who\r\nfought this death-struggle of tragedy; the later art is known as the\r\n\u003ci\u003eNew Attic Comedy.\u003c/i\u003e In it the degenerate\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_87\"\u003e[Pg 87]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e form of tragedy lived on as a\r\nmonument of the most painful and violent death of tragedy proper.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThis connection between the two serves to explain the passionate\r\nattachment to Euripides evinced by the poets of the New Comedy, and\r\nhence we are no longer surprised at the wish of Philemon, who would\r\nhave got himself hanged at once, with the sole design of being able\r\nto visit Euripides in the lower regions: if only he could be assured\r\ngenerally that the deceased still had his wits. But if we desire, as\r\nbriefly as possible, and without professing to say aught exhaustive on\r\nthe subject, to characterise what Euripides has in common with Menander\r\nand Philemon, and what appealed to them so strongly as worthy of\r\nimitation: it will suffice to say that the \u003ci\u003espectator\u003c/i\u003e was brought upon\r\nthe stage by Euripides. He who has perceived the material of which the\r\nPromethean tragic writers prior to Euripides formed their heroes, and\r\nhow remote from their purpose it was to bring the true mask of reality\r\non the stage, will also know what to make of the wholly divergent\r\ntendency of Euripides. Through him the commonplace individual forced\r\nhis way from the spectators\u0027 benches to the stage itself; the mirror in\r\nwhich formerly only great and bold traits found expression now showed\r\nthe painful exactness that conscientiously reproduces even the abortive\r\nlines of nature. Odysseus, the typical Hellene of the Old Art, sank,\r\nin the hands of the new poets, to the figure of the Græculus, who, as\r\nthe good-naturedly cunning domestic slave, stands henceforth in the\r\ncentre of dramatic\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_88\"\u003e[Pg 88]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e interest. What Euripides takes credit for in the\r\nAristophanean \"Frogs,\" namely, that by his household remedies he freed\r\ntragic art from its pompous corpulency, is apparent above all in his\r\ntragic heroes. The spectator now virtually saw and heard his double on\r\nthe Euripidean stage, and rejoiced that he could talk so well. But this\r\njoy was not all: one even learned of Euripides how to speak: he prides\r\nhimself upon this in his contest with Æschylus: how the people have\r\nlearned from him how to observe, debate, and draw conclusions according\r\nto the rules of art and with the cleverest sophistications. In general\r\nit may be said that through this revolution of the popular language he\r\nmade the New Comedy possible. For it was henceforth no longer a secret,\r\nhow—and with what saws—the commonplace could represent and express\r\nitself on the stage. Civic mediocrity, on which Euripides built all\r\nhis political hopes, was now suffered to speak, while heretofore the\r\ndemigod in tragedy and the drunken satyr, or demiman, in comedy, had\r\ndetermined the character of the language. And so the Aristophanean\r\nEuripides prides himself on having portrayed the common, familiar,\r\neveryday life and dealings of the people, concerning which all are\r\nqualified to pass judgment. If now the entire populace philosophises,\r\nmanages land and goods with unheard-of circumspection, and conducts\r\nlaw-suits, he takes all the credit to himself, and glories in the\r\nsplendid results of the wisdom with which he inoculated the rabble.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt was to a populace prepared and enlightened\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_89\"\u003e[Pg 89]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e in this manner that the\r\nNew Comedy could now address itself, of which Euripides had become\r\nas it were the chorus-master; only that in this case the chorus of\r\nspectators had to be trained. As soon as this chorus was trained to\r\nsing in the Euripidean key, there arose that chesslike variety of the\r\ndrama, the New Comedy, with its perpetual triumphs of cunning and\r\nartfulness. But Euripides—the chorus-master—was praised incessantly:\r\nindeed, people would have killed themselves in order to learn yet more\r\nfrom him, had they not known that tragic poets were quite as dead as\r\ntragedy. But with it the Hellene had surrendered the belief in his\r\nimmortality; not only the belief in an ideal past, but also the belief\r\nin an ideal future. The saying taken from the well-known epitaph, \"as\r\nan old man, frivolous and capricious,\" applies also to aged Hellenism.\r\nThe passing moment, wit, levity, and caprice, are its highest deities;\r\nthe fifth class, that of the slaves, now attains to power, at least in\r\nsentiment: and if we can still speak at all of \"Greek cheerfulness,\"\r\nit is the cheerfulness of the slave who has nothing of consequence to\r\nanswer for, nothing great to strive for, and cannot value anything of\r\nthe past or future higher than the present. It was this semblance of\r\n\"Greek cheerfulness\" which so revolted the deep-minded and formidable\r\nnatures of the first four centuries of Christianity: this womanish\r\nflight from earnestness and terror, this cowardly contentedness with\r\neasy pleasure, was not only contemptible to them, but seemed to be a\r\nspecifically anti-Christian sentiment. And we must ascribe\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_90\"\u003e[Pg 90]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e it to its\r\ninfluence that the conception of Greek antiquity, which lived on for\r\ncenturies, preserved with almost enduring persistency that peculiar\r\nhectic colour of cheerfulness—as if there had never been a Sixth\r\nCentury with its birth of tragedy, its Mysteries, its Pythagoras and\r\nHeraclitus, indeed as if the art-works of that great period did not at\r\nall exist, which in fact—each by itself—can in no wise be explained\r\nas having sprung from the soil of such a decrepit and slavish love\r\nof existence and cheerfulness, and point to an altogether different\r\nconception of things as their source.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe assertion made a moment ago, that Euripides introduced the\r\nspectator on the stage to qualify him the better to pass judgment on\r\nthe drama, will make it appear as if the old tragic art was always\r\nin a false relation to the spectator: and one would be tempted to\r\nextol the radical tendency of Euripides to bring about an adequate\r\nrelation between art-work and public as an advance on Sophocles. But,\r\nas things are, \"public\" is merely a word, and not at all a homogeneous\r\nand constant quantity. Why should the artist be under obligations to\r\naccommodate himself to a power whose strength is merely in numbers?\r\nAnd if by virtue of his endowments and aspirations he feels himself\r\nsuperior to every one of these spectators, how could he feel greater\r\nrespect for the collective expression of all these subordinate\r\ncapacities than for the relatively highest-endowed individual\r\nspectator? In truth, if ever a Greek artist treated his public\r\nthroughout a long life with presumptuousness and self-sufficiency,\r\nit was Euripides, who,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_91\"\u003e[Pg 91]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e even when the masses threw themselves at his\r\nfeet, with sublime defiance made an open assault on his own tendency,\r\nthe very tendency with which he had triumphed over the masses. If this\r\ngenius had had the slightest reverence for the pandemonium of the\r\npublic, he would have broken down long before the middle of his career\r\nbeneath the weighty blows of his own failures. These considerations\r\nhere make it obvious that our formula—namely, that Euripides brought\r\nthe spectator upon the stage, in order to make him truly competent to\r\npass judgment—was but a provisional one, and that we must seek for a\r\ndeeper understanding of his tendency. Conversely, it is undoubtedly\r\nwell known that Æschylus and Sophocles, during all their lives, indeed,\r\nfar beyond their lives, enjoyed the full favour of the people, and that\r\ntherefore in the case of these predecessors of Euripides the idea of\r\na false relation between art-work and public was altogether excluded.\r\nWhat was it that thus forcibly diverted this highly gifted artist, so\r\nincessantly impelled to production, from the path over which shone the\r\nsun of the greatest names in poetry and the cloudless heaven of popular\r\nfavour? What strange consideration for the spectator led him to defy,\r\nthe spectator? How could he, owing to too much respect for the public\r\n—dis-respect the public?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eEuripides—and this is the solution of the riddle just propounded—felt\r\nhimself, as a poet, undoubtedly superior to the masses, but not to\r\ntwo of his spectators: he brought the masses upon the stage; these\r\ntwo spectators he revered as the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_92\"\u003e[Pg 92]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e only competent judges and masters\r\nof his art: in compliance with their directions and admonitions, he\r\ntransferred the entire world of sentiments, passions, and experiences,\r\nhitherto present at every festival representation as the invisible\r\nchorus on the spectators\u0027 benches, into the souls of his stage-heroes;\r\nhe yielded to their demands when he also sought for these new\r\ncharacters the new word and the new tone; in their voices alone he\r\nheard the conclusive verdict on his work, as also the cheering promise\r\nof triumph when he found himself condemned as usual by the justice of\r\nthe public.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOf these two, spectators the one is—Euripides himself, Euripides \u003ci\u003eas\r\nthinker,\u003c/i\u003e not as poet. It might be said of him, that his unusually\r\nlarge fund of critical ability, as in the case of Lessing, if it did\r\nnot create, at least constantly fructified a productively artistic\r\ncollateral impulse. With this faculty, with all the clearness and\r\ndexterity of his critical thought, Euripides had sat in the theatre and\r\nstriven to recognise in the masterpieces of his great predecessors, as\r\nin faded paintings, feature and feature, line and line. And here had\r\nhappened to him what one initiated in the deeper arcana of Æschylean\r\ntragedy must needs have expected: he observed something incommensurable\r\nin every feature and in every line, a certain deceptive distinctness\r\nand at the same time an enigmatic profundity, yea an infinitude, of\r\nbackground. Even the clearest figure had always a comet\u0027s tail attached\r\nto it, which seemed to suggest the uncertain and the inexplicable.\r\nThe same twilight shrouded the structure of the drama, especially the\r\nsignificance\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_93\"\u003e[Pg 93]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of the chorus. And how doubtful seemed the solution of\r\nthe ethical problems to his mind! How questionable the treatment of\r\nthe myths! How unequal the distribution of happiness and misfortune!\r\nEven in the language of the Old Tragedy there was much that was\r\nobjectionable to him, or at least enigmatical; he found especially\r\ntoo much pomp for simple affairs, too many tropes and immense things\r\nfor the plainness of the characters. Thus he sat restlessly pondering\r\nin the theatre, and as a spectator he acknowledged to himself that he\r\ndid not understand his great predecessors. If, however, he thought the\r\nunderstanding the root proper of all enjoyment and productivity, he had\r\nto inquire and look about to see whether any one else thought as he\r\ndid, and also acknowledged this incommensurability. But most people,\r\nand among them the best individuals, had only a distrustful smile for\r\nhim, while none could explain why the great masters were still in the\r\nright in face of his scruples and objections. And in this painful\r\ncondition he found \u003ci\u003ethat other spectator,\u003c/i\u003e who did not comprehend,\r\nand therefore did not esteem, tragedy. In alliance with him he could\r\nventure, from amid his lonesomeness, to begin the prodigious struggle\r\nagainst the art of Æschylus and Sophocles—not with polemic writings,\r\nbut as a dramatic poet, who opposed \u003ci\u003ehis own\u003c/i\u003e conception of tragedy to\r\nthe traditional one.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_94\"\u003e[Pg 94]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e12.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBefore we name this other spectator, let us pause here a moment in\r\norder to recall our own impression, as previously described, of the\r\ndiscordant and incommensurable elements in the nature of Æschylean\r\ntragedy. Let us think of our own astonishment at the \u003ci\u003echorus\u003c/i\u003e and\r\nthe \u003ci\u003etragic hero\u003c/i\u003e of that type of tragedy, neither of which we could\r\nreconcile with our practices any more than with tradition—till we\r\nrediscovered this duplexity itself as the origin and essence of Greek\r\ntragedy, as the expression of two interwoven artistic impulses, \u003ci\u003ethe\r\nApollonian and the Dionysian\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTo separate this primitive and all-powerful Dionysian element from\r\ntragedy, and to build up a new and purified form of tragedy on the\r\nbasis of a non-Dionysian art, morality, and conception of things—such\r\nis the tendency of Euripides which now reveals itself to us in a clear\r\nlight.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn a myth composed in the eve of his life, Euripides himself most\r\nurgently propounded to his contemporaries the question as to the\r\nvalue and signification of this tendency. Is the Dionysian entitled\r\nto exist at all? Should it not be forcibly rooted out of the Hellenic\r\nsoil? Certainly, the poet tells us, if only it were possible: but the\r\ngod Dionysus is too powerful; his most intelligent adversary—like\r\nPentheus in the \"Bacchæ\"—is unwittingly enchanted by him, and\r\nin this enchantment meets his fate. The judgment of the two old\r\nsages, Cadmus and Tiresias, seems to be also the judgment of the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_95\"\u003e[Pg 95]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\naged poet: that the reflection of the wisest individuals does not\r\noverthrow old popular traditions, nor the perpetually propagating\r\nworship of Dionysus, that in fact it behoves us to display at least a\r\ndiplomatically cautious concern in the presence of such strange forces:\r\nwhere however it is always possible that the god may take offence\r\nat such lukewarm participation, and finally change the diplomat—in\r\nthis case Cadmus—into a dragon. This is what a poet tells us, who\r\nopposed Dionysus with heroic valour throughout a long life—in order\r\nfinally to wind up his career with a glorification of his adversary,\r\nand with suicide, like one staggering from giddiness, who, in order\r\nto escape the horrible vertigo he can no longer endure, casts himself\r\nfrom a tower. This tragedy—the Bacchæ—is a protest against the\r\npracticability of his own tendency; alas, and it has already been\r\nput into practice! The surprising thing had happened: when the poet\r\nrecanted, his tendency had already conquered. Dionysus had already\r\nbeen scared from the tragic stage, and in fact by a demonic power\r\nwhich spoke through Euripides. Even Euripides was, in a certain sense,\r\nonly a mask: the deity that spoke through him was neither Dionysus nor\r\nApollo, but an altogether new-born demon, called \u003ci\u003eSocrates.\u003c/i\u003e This is\r\nthe new antithesis: the Dionysian and the Socratic, and the art-work of\r\nGreek tragedy was wrecked on it. What if even Euripides now seeks to\r\ncomfort us by his recantation? It is of no avail: the most magnificent\r\ntemple lies in ruins. What avails the lamentation of the destroyer,\r\nand his\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_96\"\u003e[Pg 96]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e confession that it was the most beautiful of all temples? And\r\neven that Euripides has been changed into a dragon as a punishment by\r\nthe art-critics of all ages—who could be content with this wretched\r\ncompensation?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet us now approach this \u003ci\u003eSocratic\u003c/i\u003e tendency with which Euripides\r\ncombated and vanquished Æschylean tragedy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe must now ask ourselves, what could be the ulterior aim of the\r\nEuripidean design, which, in the highest ideality of its execution,\r\nwould found drama exclusively on the non-Dionysian? What other form of\r\ndrama could there be, if it was not to be born of the womb of music, in\r\nthe mysterious twilight of the Dionysian? Only \u003ci\u003ethe dramatised epos:\u003c/i\u003e\r\nin which Apollonian domain of art the \u003ci\u003etragic\u003c/i\u003e effect is of course\r\nunattainable. It does not depend on the subject-matter of the events\r\nhere represented; indeed, I venture to assert that it would have been\r\nimpossible for Goethe in his projected \"Nausikaa\" to have rendered\r\ntragically effective the suicide of the idyllic being with which he\r\nintended to complete the fifth act; so extraordinary is the power of\r\nthe epic-Apollonian representation, that it charms, before our eyes,\r\nthe most terrible things by the joy in appearance and in redemption\r\nthrough appearance. The poet of the dramatised epos cannot completely\r\nblend with his pictures any more than the epic rhapsodist. He is still\r\njust the calm, unmoved embodiment of Contemplation whose wide eyes see\r\nthe picture \u003ci\u003ebefore\u003c/i\u003e them. The actor in this dramatised epos still\r\nremains intrinsically rhapsodist: the consecration\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_97\"\u003e[Pg 97]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of inner dreaming\r\nis on all his actions, so that he is never wholly an actor.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHow, then, is the Euripidean play related to this ideal of the\r\nApollonian drama? Just as the younger rhapsodist is related to the\r\nsolemn rhapsodist of the old time. The former describes his own\r\ncharacter in the Platonic \"Ion\" as follows: \"When I am saying anything\r\nsad, my eyes fill with tears; when, however, what I am saying is awful\r\nand terrible, then my hair stands on end through fear, and my heart\r\nleaps.\" Here we no longer observe anything of the epic absorption\r\nin appearance, or of the unemotional coolness of the true actor,\r\nwho precisely in his highest activity is wholly appearance and joy\r\nin appearance. Euripides is the actor with leaping heart, with hair\r\nstanding on end; as Socratic thinker he designs the plan, as passionate\r\nactor he executes it. Neither in the designing nor in the execution is\r\nhe an artist pure and simple. And so the Euripidean drama is a thing\r\nboth cool and fiery, equally capable of freezing and burning; it is\r\nimpossible for it to attain the Apollonian, effect of the epos, while,\r\non the other hand, it has severed itself as much as possible from\r\nDionysian elements, and now, in order to act at all, it requires new\r\nstimulants, which can no longer lie within the sphere of the two unique\r\nart-impulses, the Apollonian and the Dionysian. The stimulants are\r\ncool, paradoxical \u003ci\u003ethoughts\u003c/i\u003e, in place of Apollonian intuitions—and\r\nfiery \u003ci\u003epassions\u003c/i\u003e—in place Dionysean ecstasies; and in fact, thoughts\r\nand passions very realistically copied, and not at all steeped in the\r\nether of art.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_98\"\u003e[Pg 98]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAccordingly, if we have perceived this much, that Euripides did not\r\nsucceed in establishing the drama exclusively on the Apollonian, but\r\nthat rather his non-Dionysian inclinations deviated into a naturalistic\r\nand inartistic tendency, we shall now be able to approach nearer to\r\nthe character \u003ci\u003eæsthetic Socratism.\u003c/i\u003e supreme law of which reads about\r\nas follows: \"to be beautiful everything must be intelligible,\" as\r\nthe parallel to the Socratic proposition, \"only the knowing is one\r\nvirtuous.\" With this canon in his hands Euripides measured all the\r\nseparate elements of the drama, and rectified them according to his\r\nprinciple: the language, the characters, the dramaturgic structure, and\r\nthe choric music. The poetic deficiency and retrogression, which we\r\nare so often wont to impute to Euripides in comparison with Sophoclean\r\ntragedy, is for the most part the product of this penetrating critical\r\nprocess, this daring intelligibility. The Euripidian \u003ci\u003eprologue\u003c/i\u003e may\r\nserve us as an example of the productivity of this, rationalistic\r\nmethod. Nothing could be more opposed to the technique of our stage\r\nthan the prologue in the drama of Euripides. For a single person to\r\nappear at the outset of the play telling us who he is, what precedes\r\nthe action, what has happened thus far, yea, what will happen in\r\nthe course of the play, would be designated by a modern playwright\r\nas a wanton and unpardonable abandonment of the effect of suspense.\r\nEverything that is about to happen is known beforehand; who then\r\ncares to wait for it actually to happen?—considering, moreover, that\r\nhere there is not by any means the exciting relation of a predicting\r\ndream to a reality\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_99\"\u003e[Pg 99]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e taking place later on. Euripides speculated quite\r\ndifferently. The effect of tragedy never depended on epic suspense, on\r\nthe fascinating uncertainty as to what is to happen now and afterwards:\r\nbut rather on the great rhetoro-lyric scenes in which the passion and\r\ndialectics of the chief hero swelled to a broad and mighty stream.\r\nEverything was arranged for pathos, not for action: and whatever\r\nwas not arranged for pathos was regarded as objectionable. But what\r\ninterferes most with the hearer\u0027s pleasurable satisfaction in such\r\nscenes is a missing link, a gap in the texture of the previous history.\r\nSo long as the spectator has to divine the meaning of this or that\r\nperson, or the presuppositions of this or that conflict of inclinations\r\nand intentions, his complete absorption in the doings and sufferings\r\nof the chief persons is impossible, as is likewise breathless\r\nfellow-feeling and fellow-fearing. The Æschyleo-Sophoclean tragedy\r\nemployed the most ingenious devices in the first scenes to place in\r\nthe hands of the spectator as if by chance all the threads requisite\r\nfor understanding the whole: a trait in which that noble artistry is\r\napproved, which as it were masks the \u003ci\u003einevitably\u003c/i\u003e formal, and causes\r\nit to appear as something accidental. But nevertheless Euripides\r\nthought he observed that during these first scenes the spectator was\r\nin a strange state of anxiety to make out the problem of the previous\r\nhistory, so that the poetic beauties and pathos of the exposition\r\nwere lost to him. Accordingly he placed the prologue even before the\r\nexposition, and put it in the mouth of a person who could be trusted:\r\nsome deity had often\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_100\"\u003e[Pg 100]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e as it were to guarantee the particulars of the\r\ntragedy to the public and remove every doubt as to the reality of the\r\nmyth: as in the case of Descartes, who could only prove the reality\r\nof the empiric world by an appeal to the truthfulness of God and His\r\ninability to utter falsehood. Euripides makes use of the same divine\r\ntruthfulness once more at the close of his drama, in order to ensure to\r\nthe public the future of his heroes; this is the task of the notorious\r\n\u003ci\u003edeus ex machina.\u003c/i\u003e Between the preliminary and the additional epic\r\nspectacle there is the dramatico-lyric present, the \"drama\" proper.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus Euripides as a poet echoes above all his own conscious\r\nknowledge; and it is precisely on this account that he occupies such\r\na notable position in the history of Greek art. With reference to his\r\ncritico-productive activity, he must often have felt that he ought\r\nto actualise in the drama the words at the beginning of the essay of\r\nAnaxagoras: \"In the beginning all things were mixed together; then\r\ncame the understanding and created order.\" And if Anaxagoras with his\r\n\"νοῡς\" seemed like the first sober person among nothing but drunken\r\nphilosophers, Euripides may also have conceived his relation to\r\nthe other tragic poets under a similar figure. As long as the sole\r\nruler and disposer of the universe, the νοῡς, was still excluded\r\nfrom artistic activity, things were all mixed together in a chaotic,\r\nprimitive mess;—it is thus Euripides was obliged to think, it is thus\r\nhe was obliged to condemn the \"drunken\" poets as the first \"sober\" one\r\namong them. What Sophocles said of Æschylus, that he did what was\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_101\"\u003e[Pg 101]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nright, though unconsciously, was surely not in the mind of Euripides:\r\nwho would have admitted only thus much, that Æschylus, \u003ci\u003ebecause\u003c/i\u003e he\r\nwrought unconsciously, did what was wrong. So also the divine Plato\r\nspeaks for the most part only ironically of the creative faculty of the\r\npoet, in so far as it is not conscious insight, and places it on a par\r\nwith the gift of the soothsayer and dream-interpreter; insinuating that\r\nthe poet is incapable of composing until he has become unconscious and\r\nreason has deserted him. Like Plato, Euripides undertook to show to the\r\nworld the reverse of the \"unintelligent\" poet; his æsthetic principle\r\nthat \"to be beautiful everything must be known\" is, as I have said,\r\nthe parallel to the Socratic \"to be good everything must be known.\"\r\nAccordingly we may regard Euripides as the poet of æsthetic Socratism.\r\nSocrates, however, was that \u003ci\u003esecond spectator\u003c/i\u003e who did not comprehend\r\nand therefore did not esteem the Old Tragedy; in alliance with him\r\nEuripides ventured to be the herald of a new artistic activity. If,\r\nthen, the Old Tragedy was here destroyed, it follows that æsthetic\r\nSocratism was the murderous principle; but in so far as the struggle is\r\ndirected against the Dionysian element in the old art, we recognise in\r\nSocrates the opponent of Dionysus, the new Orpheus who rebels against\r\nDionysus; and although destined to be torn to pieces by the Mænads of\r\nthe Athenian court, yet puts to flight the overpowerful god himself,\r\nwho, when he fled from Lycurgus, the king of Edoni, sought refuge in\r\nthe depths of the ocean—namely, in the mystical flood of a secret\r\ncult which gradually overspread the earth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_102\"\u003e[Pg 102]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e13.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThat Socrates stood in close relationship to Euripides in the tendency\r\nof his teaching, did not escape the notice of contemporaneous\r\nantiquity; the most eloquent expression of this felicitous insight\r\nbeing the tale current in Athens, that Socrates was accustomed to help\r\nEuripides in poetising. Both names were mentioned in one breath by the\r\nadherents of the \"good old time,\" whenever they came to enumerating the\r\npopular agitators of the day: to whose influence they attributed the\r\nfact that the old Marathonian stalwart capacity of body and soul was\r\nmore and more being sacrificed to a dubious enlightenment, involving\r\nprogressive degeneration of the physical and mental powers. It is in\r\nthis tone, half indignantly and half contemptuously, that Aristophanic\r\ncomedy is wont to speak of both of them—to the consternation of\r\nmodern men, who would indeed be willing enough to give up Euripides,\r\nbut cannot suppress their amazement that Socrates should appear in\r\nAristophanes as the first and head \u003ci\u003esophist,\u003c/i\u003e as the mirror and epitome\r\nof all sophistical tendencies; in connection with which it offers the\r\nsingle consolation of putting Aristophanes himself in the pillory, as a\r\nrakish, lying Alcibiades of poetry. Without here defending the profound\r\ninstincts of Aristophanes against such attacks, I shall now indicate,\r\nby means of the sentiments of the time, the close connection between\r\nSocrates and Euripides. With this purpose in view, it is especially to\r\nbe\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_103\"\u003e[Pg 103]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e remembered that Socrates, as an opponent of tragic art, did not\r\nordinarily patronise tragedy, but only appeared among the spectators\r\nwhen a new play of Euripides was performed. The most noted thing,\r\nhowever, is the close juxtaposition of the two names in the Delphic\r\noracle, which designated Socrates as the wisest of men, but at the same\r\ntime decided that the second prize in the contest of wisdom was due to\r\nEuripides.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eSophocles was designated as the third in this scale of rank; he who\r\ncould pride himself that, in comparison with Æschylus, he did what\r\nwas right, and did it, moreover, because he \u003ci\u003eknew\u003c/i\u003e what was right. It\r\nis evidently just the degree of clearness of this \u003ci\u003eknowledge,\u003c/i\u003e which\r\ndistinguishes these three men in common as the three \"knowing ones\" of\r\ntheir age.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe most decisive word, however, for this new and unprecedented\r\nesteem of knowledge and insight was spoken by Socrates when he\r\nfound that he was the only one who acknowledged to himself that he\r\n\u003ci\u003eknew nothing\u003c/i\u003e while in his critical pilgrimage through Athens, and\r\ncalling on the greatest statesmen, orators, poets, and artists, he\r\ndiscovered everywhere the conceit of knowledge. He perceived, to his\r\nastonishment, that all these celebrities were without a proper and\r\naccurate insight, even with regard to their own callings, and practised\r\nthem only by instinct. \"Only by instinct\": with this phrase we touch\r\nupon the heart and core of the Socratic tendency. Socratism condemns\r\ntherewith existing art as well as existing ethics; wherever Socratism\r\nturns its\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_104\"\u003e[Pg 104]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e searching eyes it beholds the lack of insight and the\r\npower of illusion; and from this lack infers the inner perversity and\r\nobjectionableness of existing conditions. From this point onwards,\r\nSocrates believed that he was called upon to, correct existence;\r\nand, with an air of disregard and superiority, as the precursor\r\nof an altogether different culture, art, and morality, he enters\r\nsingle-handed into a world, of which, if we reverently touched the hem,\r\nwe should count it our greatest happiness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere is the extraordinary hesitancy which always seizes upon us with\r\nregard to Socrates, and again and again invites us to ascertain the\r\nsense and purpose of this most questionable phenomenon of antiquity.\r\nWho is it that ventures single-handed to disown the Greek character,\r\nwhich, as Homer, Pindar, and Æschylus, as Phidias, as Pericles, as\r\nPythia and Dionysus, as the deepest abyss and the highest height, is\r\nsure of our wondering admiration? What demoniac power is it which would\r\npresume to spill this magic draught in the dust? What demigod is it to\r\nwhom the chorus of spirits of the noblest of mankind must call out:\r\n\"Weh! Weh! Du hast sie zerstört, die schöne Welt, mit mächtiger Faust;\r\nsie stürzt, sie zerfällt!\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_17_19\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_17_19\"\u003e[17]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_105\"\u003e[Pg 105]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eA key to the character of Socrates is presented to us by the surprising\r\nphenomenon designated as the \"daimonion\" of Socrates. In special\r\ncircumstances, when his gigantic intellect began to stagger, he got\r\na secure support in the utterances of a divine voice which then\r\nspake to him. This voice, whenever it comes, always \u003ci\u003edissuades.\u003c/i\u003e\r\nIn this totally abnormal nature instinctive wisdom only appears in\r\norder to hinder the progress of conscious perception here and there.\r\nWhile in all productive men it is instinct which is the creatively\r\naffirmative force, consciousness only comporting itself critically\r\nand dissuasively; with Socrates it is instinct which becomes critic;\r\nit is consciousness which becomes creator—a perfect monstrosity\r\n\u003ci\u003eper defectum!\u003c/i\u003e And we do indeed observe here a monstrous \u003ci\u003edefectus\u003c/i\u003e\r\nof all mystical aptitude, so that Socrates might be designated as\r\nthe specific \u003ci\u003enon-mystic,\u003c/i\u003e in whom the logical nature is developed,\r\nthrough a superfoetation, to the same excess as instinctive wisdom\r\nis developed in the mystic. On the other hand, however, the logical\r\ninstinct which appeared in Socrates was absolutely prohibited from\r\nturning against itself; in its unchecked flow it manifests a native\r\npower such as we meet with, to our shocking surprise, only among the\r\nvery greatest instinctive forces. He who has experienced even a breath\r\nof the divine naïveté and security of the Socratic course of life in\r\nthe Platonic writings, will also feel that the enormous driving-wheel\r\nof logical Socratism is in motion, as it were, \u003ci\u003ebehind\u003c/i\u003e Socrates, and\r\nthat it must be viewed through Socrates as through a\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_106\"\u003e[Pg 106]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e shadow. And\r\nthat he himself had a boding of this relation is apparent from the\r\ndignified earnestness with which he everywhere, and even before his\r\njudges, insisted on his divine calling. To refute him here was really\r\nas impossible as to approve of his instinct-disintegrating influence.\r\nIn view of this indissoluble conflict, when he had at last been brought\r\nbefore the forum of the Greek state, there was only one punishment\r\ndemanded, namely exile; he might have been sped across the borders as\r\nsomething thoroughly enigmatical, irrubricable and inexplicable, and so\r\nposterity would have been quite unjustified in charging the Athenians\r\nwith a deed of ignominy. But that the sentence of death, and not mere\r\nexile, was pronounced upon him, seems to have been brought about by\r\nSocrates himself, with perfect knowledge of the circumstances, and\r\nwithout the natural fear of death: he met his death with the calmness\r\nwith which, according to the description of Plato, he leaves the\r\nsymposium at break of day, as the last of the revellers, to begin a new\r\nday; while the sleepy companions remain behind on the benches and the\r\nfloor, to dream of Socrates, the true eroticist. \u003ci\u003eThe dying Socrates\u003c/i\u003e\r\nbecame the new ideal of the noble Greek youths,—an ideal they had\r\nnever yet beheld,—and above all, the typical Hellenic youth, Plato,\r\nprostrated himself before this scene with all the fervent devotion of\r\nhis visionary soul.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_17_19\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_17_19\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[17]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWoe! Woe!\u003cbr\u003e\r\nThou hast it destroyed,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nThe beautiful world;\u003cbr\u003e\r\nWith powerful fist;\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn ruin \u0027tis hurled!\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003ci\u003eFaust,\u003c/i\u003e trans. of Bayard Taylor.—TR.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_107\"\u003e[Pg 107]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e14.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet us now imagine the one great Cyclopean eye of Socrates fixed on\r\ntragedy, that eye in which the fine frenzy of artistic enthusiasm had\r\nnever glowed—let us think how it was denied to this eye to gaze with\r\npleasure into the Dionysian abysses—what could it not but see in the\r\n\"sublime and greatly lauded\" tragic art, as Plato called it? Something\r\nvery absurd, with causes that seemed to be without effects, and\r\neffects apparently without causes; the whole, moreover, so motley and\r\ndiversified that it could not but be repugnant to a thoughtful mind, a\r\ndangerous incentive, however, to sensitive and irritable souls. We know\r\nwhat was the sole kind of poetry which he comprehended: the \u003ci\u003eÆsopian\r\nfable\u003c/i\u003e: and he did this no doubt with that smiling complaisance with\r\nwhich the good honest Gellert sings the praise of poetry in the fable\r\nof the bee and the hen:—\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\n\"Du siehst an mir, wozu sie nützt,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nDem, der nicht viel Verstand besitzt,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nDie Wahrheit durch ein Bild zu sagen.\"\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_18_20\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_18_20\"\u003e[18]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut then it seemed to Socrates that tragic art did not even \"tell the\r\ntruth\": not to mention the fact that it addresses itself to him who\r\n\"hath but little wit\"; consequently not to the philosopher: a twofold\r\nreason why it should be avoided. Like\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_108\"\u003e[Pg 108]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Plato, he reckoned it among the\r\nseductive arts which only represent the agreeable, not the useful, and\r\nhence he required of his disciples abstinence and strict separation\r\nfrom such unphilosophical allurements; with such success that the\r\nyouthful tragic poet Plato first of all burned his poems to be able to\r\nbecome a scholar of Socrates. But where unconquerable native capacities\r\nbore up against the Socratic maxims, their power, together with the\r\nmomentum of his mighty character, still sufficed to force poetry itself\r\ninto new and hitherto unknown channels.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAn instance of this is the aforesaid Plato: he, who in the condemnation\r\nof tragedy and of art in general certainly did not fall short of\r\nthe naïve cynicism of his master, was nevertheless constrained by\r\nsheer artistic necessity to create a form of art which is inwardly\r\nrelated even to the then existing forms of art which he repudiated.\r\nPlato\u0027s main objection to the old art—that it is the imitation of\r\na phantom,\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_19_21\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_19_21\"\u003e[19]\u003c/a\u003e and hence belongs to a sphere still lower than the\r\nempiric world—could not at all apply to the new art: and so we find\r\nPlato endeavouring to go beyond reality and attempting to represent\r\nthe idea which underlies this pseudo-reality. But Plato, the thinker,\r\nthereby arrived by a roundabout road just at the point where he had\r\nalways been at home as poet, and from which Sophocles and all the old\r\nartists had solemnly protested against that objection. If tragedy\r\nabsorbed into itself all the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_109\"\u003e[Pg 109]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e earlier varieties of art, the same\r\ncould again be said in an unusual sense of Platonic dialogue, which,\r\nengendered by a mixture of all the then existing forms and styles,\r\nhovers midway between narrative, lyric and drama, between prose and\r\npoetry, and has also thereby broken loose from the older strict law\r\nof unity of linguistic form; a movement which was carried still\r\nfarther by the \u003ci\u003ecynic\u003c/i\u003e writers, who in the most promiscuous style,\r\noscillating to and fro betwixt prose and metrical forms, realised also\r\nthe literary picture of the \"raving Socrates\" whom they were wont to\r\nrepresent in life. Platonic dialogue was as it were the boat in which\r\nthe shipwrecked ancient poetry saved herself together with all her\r\nchildren: crowded into a narrow space and timidly obsequious to the\r\none steersman, Socrates, they now launched into a new world, which\r\nnever tired of looking at the fantastic spectacle of this procession.\r\nIn very truth, Plato has given to all posterity the prototype of a new\r\nform of art, the prototype of the \u003ci\u003enovel\u003c/i\u003e which must be designated as\r\nthe infinitely evolved Æsopian fable, in which poetry holds the same\r\nrank with reference to dialectic philosophy as this same philosophy\r\nheld for many centuries with reference to theology: namely, the rank of\r\n\u003ci\u003eancilla.\u003c/i\u003e This was the new position of poetry into which Plato forced\r\nit under the pressure of the demon-inspired Socrates.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere \u003ci\u003ephilosophic thought\u003c/i\u003e overgrows art and compels it to cling close\r\nto the trunk of dialectics. The \u003ci\u003eApollonian\u003c/i\u003e tendency has chrysalised\r\nin the logical schematism; just as something analogous\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_110\"\u003e[Pg 110]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e in the case\r\nof Euripides (and moreover a translation of the \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e into the\r\nnaturalistic emotion) was forced upon our attention. Socrates, the\r\ndialectical hero in Platonic drama, reminds us of the kindred nature\r\nof the Euripidean hero, who has to defend his actions by arguments and\r\ncounter-arguments, and thereby so often runs the risk of forfeiting\r\nour tragic pity; for who could mistake the \u003ci\u003eoptimistic\u003c/i\u003e element\r\nin the essence of dialectics, which celebrates a jubilee in every\r\nconclusion, and can breathe only in cool clearness and consciousness:\r\nthe optimistic element, which, having once forced its way into tragedy,\r\nmust gradually overgrow its Dionysian regions, and necessarily impel it\r\nto self-destruction—even to the death-leap into the bourgeois drama.\r\nLet us but realise the consequences of the Socratic maxims: \"Virtue is\r\nknowledge; man only sins from ignorance; he who is virtuous is happy\":\r\nthese three fundamental forms of optimism involve the death of tragedy.\r\nFor the virtuous hero must now be a dialectician; there must now be a\r\nnecessary, visible connection between virtue and knowledge, between\r\nbelief and morality; the transcendental justice of the plot in Æschylus\r\nis now degraded to the superficial and audacious principle of poetic\r\njustice with its usual \u003ci\u003edeus ex machina\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHow does the \u003ci\u003echorus,\u003c/i\u003e and, in general, the entire Dionyso-musical\r\nsubstratum of tragedy, now appear in the light of this new\r\nSocrato-optimistic stage-world? As something accidental, as a readily\r\ndispensable reminiscence of the origin\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_111\"\u003e[Pg 111]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of tragedy; while we have\r\nin fact seen that the chorus can be understood only as the cause of\r\ntragedy, and of the tragic generally. This perplexity with respect to\r\nthe chorus first manifests itself in Sophocles—an important sign that\r\nthe Dionysian basis of tragedy already begins to disintegrate with\r\nhim. He no longer ventures to entrust to the chorus the main share\r\nof the effect, but limits its sphere to such an extent that it now\r\nappears almost co-ordinate with the actors, just as if it were elevated\r\nfrom the orchestra into the scene: whereby of course its character\r\nis completely destroyed, notwithstanding that Aristotle countenances\r\nthis very theory of the chorus. This alteration of the position of\r\nthe chorus, which Sophocles at any rate recommended by his practice,\r\nand, according to tradition, even by a treatise, is the first step\r\ntowards the \u003ci\u003eannihilation\u003c/i\u003e of the chorus, the phases of which follow\r\none another with alarming rapidity in Euripides, Agathon, and the New\r\nComedy. Optimistic dialectics drives, \u003ci\u003emusic\u003c/i\u003e out of tragedy with the\r\nscourge of its syllogisms: that is, it destroys the essence of tragedy,\r\nwhich can be explained only as a manifestation and illustration of\r\nDionysian states, as the visible symbolisation of music, as the\r\ndream-world of Dionysian ecstasy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf, therefore, we are to assume an anti-Dionysian tendency operating\r\neven before Socrates, which received in him only an unprecedentedly\r\ngrand expression, we must not shrink from the question as to what\r\na phenomenon like that of Socrates indicates: whom in view of the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_112\"\u003e[Pg 112]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nPlatonic dialogues we are certainly not entitled to regard as a purely\r\ndisintegrating, negative power. And though there can be no doubt\r\nwhatever that the most immediate effect of the Socratic impulse tended\r\nto the dissolution of Dionysian tragedy, yet a profound experience of\r\nSocrates\u0027 own life compels us to ask whether there is \u003ci\u003enecessarily\u003c/i\u003e\r\nonly an antipodal relation between Socratism and art, and whether the\r\nbirth of an \"artistic Socrates\" is in general something contradictory\r\nin itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFor that despotic logician had now and then the feeling of a gap, or\r\nvoid, a sentiment of semi-reproach, as of a possibly neglected duty\r\nwith respect to art. There often came to him, as he tells his friends\r\nin prison, one and the same dream-apparition, which kept constantly\r\nrepeating to him: \"Socrates, practise music.\" Up to his very last days\r\nhe solaces himself with the opinion that his philosophising is the\r\nhighest form of poetry, and finds it hard to believe that a deity will\r\nremind him of the \"common, popular music.\" Finally, when in prison,\r\nhe consents to practise also this despised music, in order thoroughly\r\nto unburden his conscience. And in this frame of mind he composes\r\na poem on Apollo and turns a few Æsopian fables into verse. It was\r\nsomething similar to the demonian warning voice which urged him to\r\nthese practices; it was because of his Apollonian insight that, like a\r\nbarbaric king, he did not understand the noble image of a god and was\r\nin danger of sinning against a deity—through ignorance. The prompting\r\nvoice of the Socratic\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_113\"\u003e[Pg 113]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e dream-vision is the only sign of doubtfulness\r\nas to the limits of logical nature. \"Perhaps \"—thus he had to ask\r\nhimself—\"what is not intelligible to me is not therefore unreasonable?\r\nPerhaps there is a realm of wisdom from which the logician is banished?\r\nPerhaps art is even a necessary correlative of and supplement to\r\nscience?\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_18_20\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_18_20\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[18]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn me thou seest its benefit,—\u003cbr\u003e\r\nTo him who hath but little wit,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nThrough parables to tell the truth.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_19_21\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_19_21\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[19]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Scheinbild = ειδολον.—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e15.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn the sense of these last portentous questions it must now be\r\nindicated how the influence of Socrates (extending to the present\r\nmoment, indeed, to all futurity) has spread over posterity like an\r\never-increasing shadow in the evening sun, and how this influence\r\nagain and again necessitates a regeneration of \u003ci\u003eart,\u003c/i\u003e—yea, of art\r\nalready with metaphysical, broadest and profoundest sense,—and its own\r\neternity guarantees also the eternity of art.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBefore this could be perceived, before the intrinsic dependence of\r\nevery art on the Greeks, the Greeks from Homer to Socrates, was\r\nconclusively demonstrated, it had to happen to us with regard to these\r\nGreeks as it happened to the Athenians with regard to Socrates. Nearly\r\nevery age and stage of culture has at some time or other sought with\r\ndeep displeasure to free itself from the Greeks, because in their\r\npresence everything self-achieved, sincerely admired and apparently\r\nquite original, seemed all of a sudden to lose life and colour\r\nand shrink to an abortive copy, even to caricature. And so hearty\r\nindignation breaks forth time after time against\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_114\"\u003e[Pg 114]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e this presumptuous\r\nlittle nation, which dared to designate as \"barbaric\" for all time\r\neverything not native: who are they, one asks one\u0027s self, who, though\r\nthey possessed only an ephemeral historical splendour, ridiculously\r\nrestricted institutions, a dubious excellence in their customs, and\r\nwere even branded with ugly vices, yet lay claim to the dignity and\r\nsingular position among the peoples to which genius is entitled among\r\nthe masses. What a pity one has not been so fortunate as to find the\r\ncup of hemlock with which such an affair could be disposed of without\r\nado: for all the poison which envy, calumny, and rankling resentment\r\nengendered within themselves have not sufficed to destroy that\r\nself-sufficient grandeur! And so one feels ashamed and afraid in the\r\npresence of the Greeks: unless one prize truth above all things, and\r\ndare also to acknowledge to one\u0027s self this truth, that the Greeks,\r\nas charioteers, hold in their hands the reins of our own and of\r\nevery culture, but that almost always chariot and horses are of too\r\npoor material and incommensurate with the glory of their guides, who\r\nthen will deem it sport to run such a team into an abyss: which they\r\nthemselves clear with the leap of Achilles.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn order to assign also to Socrates the dignity of such a leading\r\nposition, it will suffice to recognise in him the type of an unheard-of\r\nform of existence, the type of the \u003ci\u003etheoretical man,\u003c/i\u003e with regard\r\nto whose meaning and purpose it will be our next task to attain\r\nan insight. Like the artist, the theorist also finds an infinite\r\nsatisfaction in\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_115\"\u003e[Pg 115]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e what \u003ci\u003eis\u003c/i\u003e and, like the former, he is shielded by this\r\nsatisfaction from the practical ethics of pessimism with its lynx eyes\r\nwhich shine only in the dark. For if the artist in every unveiling\r\nof truth always cleaves with raptured eyes only to that which still\r\nremains veiled after the unveiling, the theoretical man, on the other\r\nhand, enjoys and contents himself with the cast-off veil, and finds\r\nthe consummation of his pleasure in the process of a continuously\r\nsuccessful unveiling through his own unaided efforts. There would\r\nhave been no science if it had only been concerned about that \u003ci\u003eone\u003c/i\u003e\r\nnaked goddess and nothing else. For then its disciples would have been\r\nobliged to feel like those who purposed to dig a hole straight through\r\nthe earth: each one of whom perceives that with the utmost lifelong\r\nexertion he is able to excavate only a very little of the enormous\r\ndepth, which is again filled up before his eyes by the labours of his\r\nsuccessor, so that a third man seems to do well when on his own account\r\nhe selects a new spot for his attempts at tunnelling. If now some one\r\nproves conclusively that the antipodal goal cannot be attained in this\r\ndirect way, who will still care to toil on in the old depths, unless he\r\nhas learned to content himself in the meantime with finding precious\r\nstones or discovering natural laws? For that reason Lessing, the most\r\nhonest theoretical man, ventured to say that he cared more for the\r\nsearch after truth than for truth itself: in saying which he revealed\r\nthe fundamental secret of science, to the astonishment, and indeed,\r\nto the vexation of scientific men. Well,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_116\"\u003e[Pg 116]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e to be sure, there stands\r\nalongside of this detached perception, as an excess of honesty, if not\r\nof presumption, a profound \u003ci\u003eillusion\u003c/i\u003e which first came to the world\r\nin the person of Socrates, the imperturbable belief that, by means\r\nof the clue of causality, thinking reaches to the deepest abysses of\r\nbeing, and that thinking is able not only to perceive being but even\r\nto \u003ci\u003ecorrect\u003c/i\u003e it. This sublime metaphysical illusion is added as an\r\ninstinct to science and again and again leads the latter to its limits,\r\nwhere it must change into \u003ci\u003eart; which is really the end, to be attained\r\nby this mechanism\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf we now look at Socrates in the light of this thought, he appears to\r\nus as the first who could not only live, but—what is far more—also\r\ndie under the guidance of this instinct of science: and hence the\r\npicture of the \u003ci\u003edying, Socrates\u003c/i\u003e, as the man delivered from the fear of\r\ndeath by knowledge and argument, is the escutcheon, above the entrance\r\nto science which reminds every one of its mission, namely, to make\r\nexistence appear to be comprehensible, and therefore to be justified:\r\nfor which purpose, if arguments do not suffice, \u003ci\u003emyth\u003c/i\u003e also must be\r\nused, which I just now designated even as the necessary consequence,\r\nyea, as the end of science.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHe who once makes intelligible to himself how, after the death of\r\nSocrates, the mystagogue of science, one philosophical school succeeds\r\nanother, like wave upon wave,—how an entirely unfore-shadowed\r\nuniversal development of the thirst for knowledge in the widest\r\ncompass of the cultured world (and as the specific task for every\r\none\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_117\"\u003e[Pg 117]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e highly gifted) led science on to the high sea from which since\r\nthen it has never again been able to be completely ousted; how\r\nthrough the universality of this movement a common net of thought\r\nwas first stretched over the entire globe, with prospects, moreover,\r\nof conformity to law in an entire solar system;—he who realises all\r\nthis, together with the amazingly high pyramid of our present-day\r\nknowledge, cannot fail to see in Socrates the turning-point and vortex\r\nof so-called universal history. For if one were to imagine the whole\r\nincalculable sum of energy which has been used up by that universal\r\ntendency,—employed, \u003ci\u003enot\u003c/i\u003e in the service of knowledge, but for the\r\npractical, \u003ci\u003ei.e.,\u003c/i\u003e egoistical ends of individuals and peoples,—then\r\nprobably the instinctive love of life would be so much weakened in\r\nuniversal wars of destruction and incessant migrations of peoples,\r\nthat, owing to the practice of suicide, the individual would perhaps\r\nfeel the last remnant of a sense of duty, when, like the native of\r\nthe Fiji Islands, as son he strangles his parents and, as friend, his\r\nfriend: a practical pessimism which might even give rise to a horrible\r\nethics of general slaughter out of pity—which, for the rest, exists\r\nand has existed wherever art in one form or another, especially as\r\nscience and religion, has not appeared as a remedy and preventive of\r\nthat pestilential breath.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn view of this practical pessimism, Socrates is the archetype of\r\nthe theoretical optimist, who in the above-indicated belief in the\r\nfathomableness of the nature of things, attributes to knowledge and\r\nperception the power of a universal medicine, and\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_118\"\u003e[Pg 118]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e sees in error and\r\nevil. To penetrate into the depths of the nature of things, and to\r\nseparate true perception from error and illusion, appeared to the\r\nSocratic man the noblest and even the only truly human calling: just as\r\nfrom the time of Socrates onwards the mechanism of concepts, judgments,\r\nand inferences was prized above all other capacities as the highest\r\nactivity and the most admirable gift of nature. Even the sublimest\r\nmoral acts, the stirrings of pity, of self-sacrifice, of heroism,\r\nand that tranquillity of soul, so difficult of attainment, which the\r\nApollonian Greek called Sophrosyne, were derived by Socrates, and his\r\nlike-minded successors up to the present day, from the dialectics of\r\nknowledge, and were accordingly designated as teachable. He who has\r\nexperienced in himself the joy of a Socratic perception, and felt how\r\nit seeks to embrace, in constantly widening circles, the entire world\r\nof phenomena, will thenceforth find no stimulus which could urge him\r\nto existence more forcible than the desire to complete that conquest\r\nand to knit the net impenetrably close. To a person thus minded the\r\nPlatonic Socrates then appears as the teacher of an entirely new form\r\nof \"Greek cheerfulness\" and felicity of existence, which seeks to\r\ndischarge itself in actions, and will find its discharge for the most\r\npart in maieutic and pedagogic influences on noble youths, with a view\r\nto the ultimate production of genius.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut now science, spurred on by its powerful illusion, hastens\r\nirresistibly to its limits, on which its optimism, hidden in the\r\nessence of logic, is wrecked. For the periphery of the circle of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_119\"\u003e[Pg 119]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nscience has an infinite number of points, and while there is still no\r\ntelling how this circle can ever be completely measured, yet the noble\r\nand gifted man, even before the middle of his career, inevitably comes\r\ninto contact with those extreme points of the periphery where he stares\r\nat the inexplicable. When he here sees to his dismay how logic coils\r\nround itself at these limits and finally bites its own tail—then the\r\nnew form of perception discloses itself, namely \u003ci\u003etragic perception,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nwhich, in order even to be endured, requires art as a safeguard and\r\nremedy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf, with eyes strengthened and refreshed at the sight of the Greeks, we\r\nlook upon the highest spheres of the world that surrounds us, we behold\r\nthe avidity of the insatiate optimistic knowledge, of which Socrates is\r\nthe typical representative, transformed into tragic resignation and the\r\nneed of art: while, to be sure, this same avidity, in its lower stages,\r\nhas to exhibit itself as antagonistic to art, and must especially have\r\nan inward detestation of Dionyso-tragic art, as was exemplified in the\r\nopposition of Socratism to Æschylean tragedy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere then with agitated spirit we knock at the gates of the present and\r\nthe future: will that \"transforming\" lead to ever new configurations\r\nof genius, and especially of the \u003ci\u003emusic-practising Socrates\u003c/i\u003e? Will the\r\nnet of art which is spread over existence, whether under the name of\r\nreligion or of science, be knit always more closely and delicately,\r\nor is it destined to be torn to shreds under the restlessly barbaric\r\nactivity and whirl which is called \"the present day\"?—Anxious,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_120\"\u003e[Pg 120]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e yet\r\nnot disconsolate, we stand aloof for a little while, as the spectators\r\nwho are permitted to be witnesses of these tremendous struggles and\r\ntransitions. Alas! It is the charm of these struggles that he who\r\nbeholds them must also fight them!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e16.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBy this elaborate historical example we have endeavoured to make it\r\nclear that tragedy perishes as surely by evanescence of the spirit of\r\nmusic as it can be born only out of this spirit. In order to qualify\r\nthe singularity of this assertion, and, on the other hand, to disclose\r\nthe source of this insight of ours, we must now confront with clear\r\nvision the analogous phenomena of the present time; we must enter\r\ninto the midst of these struggles, which, as I said just now, are\r\nbeing carried on in the highest spheres of our present world between\r\nthe insatiate optimistic perception and the tragic need of art. In\r\nso doing I shall leave out of consideration all other antagonistic\r\ntendencies which at all times oppose art, especially tragedy, and which\r\nat present again extend their sway triumphantly, to such an extent that\r\nof the theatrical arts only the farce and the ballet, for example, put\r\nforth their blossoms, which perhaps not every one cares to smell, in\r\ntolerably rich luxuriance. I will speak only of the \u003ci\u003eMost Illustrious\r\nOpposition\u003c/i\u003e to the tragic conception of things—and by this I mean\r\nessentially optimistic science, with its ancestor Socrates at the head\r\nof it. Presently also the forces will be designated\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_121\"\u003e[Pg 121]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e which seem to me\r\nto guarantee \u003ci\u003ea re-birth of tragedy\u003c/i\u003e—and who knows what other blessed\r\nhopes for the German genius!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBefore we plunge into the midst of these struggles, let us array\r\nourselves in the armour of our hitherto acquired knowledge. In\r\ncontrast to all those who are intent on deriving the arts from one\r\nexclusive principle, as the necessary vital source of every work of\r\nart, I keep my eyes fixed on the two artistic deities of the Greeks,\r\nApollo and Dionysus, and recognise in them the living and conspicuous\r\nrepresentatives of \u003ci\u003etwo\u003c/i\u003e worlds of art which differ in their intrinsic\r\nessence and in their highest aims. Apollo stands before me as the\r\ntransfiguring genius of the \u003ci\u003eprincipium individuationis\u003c/i\u003e through\r\nwhich alone the redemption in appearance is to be truly attained,\r\nwhile by the mystical cheer of Dionysus the spell of individuation\r\nis broken, and the way lies open to the Mothers of Being,[20] to the\r\ninnermost heart of things. This extraordinary antithesis, which opens\r\nup yawningly between plastic art as the Apollonian and music as the\r\nDionysian art, has become manifest to only one of the great thinkers,\r\nto such an extent that, even without this key to the symbolism of the\r\nHellenic divinities, he allowed to music a different character and\r\norigin in advance of all the other arts, because, unlike them, it is\r\nnot a copy of the phenomenon, but a direct copy of the will itself, and\r\ntherefore represents \u003ci\u003ethe metaphysical of everything physical in the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_122\"\u003e[Pg 122]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nworld\u003c/i\u003e, the thing-in-itself of every phenomenon. (Schopenhauer, \u003ci\u003eWelt\r\nals Wille und Vorstellung,\u003c/i\u003e I. 310.) To this most important perception\r\nof æsthetics (with which, taken in a serious sense, æsthetics properly\r\ncommences), Richard Wagner, by way of confirmation of its eternal\r\ntruth, affixed his seal, when he asserted in his \u003ci\u003eBeethoven\u003c/i\u003e that\r\nmusic must be judged according to æsthetic principles quite different\r\nfrom those which apply to the plastic arts, and not, in general,\r\naccording to the category of beauty: although an erroneous æsthetics,\r\ninspired by a misled and degenerate art, has by virtue of the concept\r\nof beauty prevailing in the plastic domain accustomed itself to demand\r\nof music an effect analogous to that of the works of plastic art,\r\nnamely the suscitating \u003ci\u003edelight in beautiful forms.\u003c/i\u003e Upon perceiving\r\nthis extraordinary antithesis, I felt a strong inducement to approach\r\nthe essence of Greek tragedy, and, by means of it, the profoundest\r\nrevelation of Hellenic genius: for I at last thought myself to be in\r\npossession of a charm to enable me—far beyond the phraseology of our\r\nusual æsthetics—to represent vividly to my mind the primitive problem\r\nof tragedy: whereby such an astounding insight into the Hellenic\r\ncharacter was afforded me that it necessarily seemed as if our proudly\r\ncomporting classico-Hellenic science had thus far contrived to subsist\r\nalmost exclusively on phantasmagoria and externalities.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003ePerhaps we may lead up to this primitive problem with the question:\r\nwhat æsthetic effect results when the intrinsically separate\r\nart-powers,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_123\"\u003e[Pg 123]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the Apollonian and the Dionysian, enter into concurrent\r\nactions? Or, in briefer form: how is music related to image and\r\nconcept?—Schopenhauer, whom Richard Wagner, with especial reference to\r\nthis point, accredits with an unsurpassable clearness and perspicuity\r\nof exposition, expresses himself most copiously on the subject in\r\nthe following passage which I shall cite here at full length\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_21_23\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_21_23\"\u003e[21]\u003c/a\u003e\r\n(\u003ci\u003eWelt als Wille und Vorstellung,\u003c/i\u003e I. p. 309): \"According to all\r\nthis, we may regard the phenomenal world, or nature, and music as\r\ntwo different expressions of the same thing,\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_20_22\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_20_22\"\u003e[20]\u003c/a\u003e which is therefore\r\nitself the only medium of the analogy between these two expressions,\r\nso that a knowledge of this medium is required in order to understand\r\nthat analogy. Music, therefore, if regarded as an expression of the\r\nworld, is in the highest degree a universal language, which is related\r\nindeed to the universality of concepts, much as these are related to\r\nthe particular things. Its universality, however, is by no means the\r\nempty universality of abstraction, but of quite a different kind, and\r\nis united with thorough and distinct definiteness. In this respect it\r\nresembles geometrical figures and numbers, which are the universal\r\nforms of all possible objiects of experience and applicable to them all\r\n\u003ci\u003ea priori\u003c/i\u003e, and yet are not abstract but perceptiple and thoroughly\r\ndeterminate. All possible efforts, excitements\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_124\"\u003e[Pg 124]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e and manifestations of\r\nwill, all that goes on in the heart of man and that reason includes in\r\nthe wide, negative concept of feeling, may be expressed by the infinite\r\nnumber of possible melodies, but always in the universality of mere\r\nform, without the material, always according to the thing-in-itself,\r\nnot the phenomenon,—of which they reproduce the very soul and essence\r\nas it were, without the body. This deep relation which music bears to\r\nthe true nature of all things also explains the fact that suitable\r\nmusic played to any scene, action, event, or surrounding seems to\r\ndisclose to us its most secret meaning, and appears as the most\r\naccurate and distinct commentary upon it; as also the fact that whoever\r\ngives himself up entirely to the impression of a symphony seems to see\r\nall the possible events of life and the world take place in himself:\r\nnevertheless upon reflection he can find no likeness between the music\r\nand the things that passed before his mind. For, as we have said, music\r\nis distinguished from all the other arts by the fact that it is not a\r\ncopy of the phenomenon, or, more accurately, the adequate objectivity\r\nof the will, but the direct copy of the will itself, and therefore\r\nrepresents the metaphysical of everything physical in the world, and\r\nthe thing-in-itself of every phenomenon. We might, therefore, just as\r\nwell call the world embodied music as embodied will: and this is the\r\nreason why music makes every picture, and indeed every scene of real\r\nlife and of the world, at once appear with higher significance; all the\r\nmore so, to be sure, in proportion as its\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_125\"\u003e[Pg 125]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e melody is analogous to the\r\ninner spirit of the given phenomenon. It rests upon this that we are\r\nable to set a poem to music as a song, or a perceptible representation\r\nas a pantomime, or both as an opera. Such particular pictures of human\r\nlife, set to the universal language of music, are never bound to it\r\nor correspond to it with stringent necessity, but stand to it only\r\nin the relation of an example chosen at will to a general concept.\r\nIn the determinateness of the real they represent that which music\r\nexpresses in the universality of mere form. For melodies are to a\r\ncertain extent, like general concepts, an abstraction from the actual.\r\nThis actual world, then, the world of particular things, affords the\r\nobject of perception, the special and the individual, the particular\r\ncase, both to the universality of concepts and to the universality of\r\nthe melodies. But these two universalities are in a certain respect\r\nopposed to each other; for the concepts contain only the forms, which\r\nare first of all abstracted from perception,—the separated outward\r\nshell of things, as it were,—and hence they are, in the strictest\r\nsense of the term, \u003ci\u003eabstracta\u003c/i\u003e; music, on the other hand, gives the\r\ninmost kernel which precedes all forms, or the heart of things. This\r\nrelation may be very well expressed in the language of the schoolmen,\r\nby saying: the concepts are the \u003ci\u003euniversalia post rem,\u003c/i\u003e but music gives\r\nthe \u003ci\u003euniversalia ante rem,\u003c/i\u003e and the real world the \u003ci\u003euniversalia in\r\nre.\u003c/i\u003e—But that in general a relation is possible between a composition\r\nand a perceptible representation rests, as we have said, upon the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_126\"\u003e[Pg 126]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nfact that both are simply different expressions of the same inner\r\nbeing of the world. When now, in the particular case, such a relation\r\nis actually given, that is to say, when the composer has been able to\r\nexpress in the universal language of music the emotions of will which\r\nconstitute the heart of an event, then the melody of the song, the\r\nmusic of the opera, is expressive. But the analogy discovered by the\r\ncomposer between the two must have proceeded from the direct knowledge\r\nof the nature of the world unknown to his reason, and must not be an\r\nimitation produced with conscious intention by means of conceptions;\r\notherwise the music does not express the inner nature of the will\r\nitself, but merely gives an inadequate imitation of its phenomenon: all\r\nspecially imitative music does this.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe have therefore, according to the doctrine of Schopenhauer, an\r\nimmediate understanding of music as the language of the will, and\r\nfeel our imagination stimulated to give form to this invisible and\r\nyet so actively stirred spirit-world which speaks to us, and prompted\r\nto embody it in an analogous example. On the other hand, image and\r\nconcept, under the influence of a truly conformable music, acquire a\r\nhigher significance. Dionysian art therefore is wont to exercise—two\r\nkinds of influences, on the Apollonian art-faculty: music firstly\r\nincites to the \u003ci\u003esymbolic intuition\u003c/i\u003e of Dionysian universality, and,\r\nsecondly, it causes the symbolic image to stand forth \u003ci\u003ein its fullest\r\nsignificance.\u003c/i\u003e From these facts, intelligible in themselves and not\r\ninaccessible to profounder observation,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_127\"\u003e[Pg 127]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e I infer the capacity of music\r\nto give birth to \u003ci\u003emyth,\u003c/i\u003e that is to say, the most significant exemplar,\r\nand precisely \u003ci\u003etragic\u003c/i\u003e myth: the myth which speaks of Dionysian\r\nknowledge in symbols. In the phenomenon of the lyrist, I have set forth\r\nthat in him music strives to express itself with regard to its nature\r\nin Apollonian images. If now we reflect that music in its highest\r\npotency must seek to attain also to its highest symbolisation, we must\r\ndeem it possible that it also knows how to find the symbolic expression\r\nof its inherent Dionysian wisdom; and where shall we have to seek for\r\nthis expression if not in tragedy and, in general, in the conception of\r\nthe \u003ci\u003etragic\u003c/i\u003e?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFrom the nature of art, as it is ordinarily conceived according to\r\nthe single category of appearance and beauty, the tragic cannot be\r\nhonestly deduced at all; it is only through the spirit of music that\r\nwe understand the joy in the annihilation of the individual. For in\r\nthe particular examples of such annihilation only is the eternal\r\nphenomenon of Dionysian art made clear to us, which gives expression\r\nto the will in its omnipotence, as it were, behind the \u003ci\u003eprincipium\r\nindividuationis,\u003c/i\u003e the eternal life beyond all phenomena, and in\r\nspite of all annihilation. The metaphysical delight in the tragic\r\nis a translation of the instinctively unconscious Dionysian wisdom\r\ninto the language of the scene: the hero, the highest manifestation\r\nof the will, is disavowed for our pleasure, because he is only\r\nphenomenon, and because the eternal life of the will is not affected\r\nby his annihilation. \"We believe in eternal life,\"\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_128\"\u003e[Pg 128]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e tragedy exclaims;\r\nwhile music is the proximate idea of this life. Plastic art has an\r\naltogether different object: here Apollo vanquishes the suffering of\r\nthe individual by the radiant glorification of the \u003ci\u003eeternity of the\r\nphenomenon\u003c/i\u003e; here beauty triumphs over the suffering inherent in life;\r\npain is in a manner surreptitiously obliterated from the features of\r\nnature. In Dionysian art and its tragic symbolism the same nature\r\nspeaks to us with its true undissembled voice: \"Be as I am! Amidst the\r\nceaseless change of phenomena the eternally creative primordial mother,\r\neternally impelling to existence, self-satisfying eternally with this\r\nchange of phenomena!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_20_22\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_20_22\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[20]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Cf. \u003ci\u003eWorld and Will as Idea,\u003c/i\u003e I. p. 339, trans. by\r\nHaldane and Kemp.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_21_23\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_21_23\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[21]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e That is \"the will\" as understood by Schopenhauer.—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e17.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eDionysian art, too, seeks to convince us of the eternal joy of\r\nexistence: only we are to seek this joy not in phenomena, but behind\r\nphenomena. We are to perceive how all that comes into being must be\r\nready for a sorrowful end; we are compelled to look into the terrors of\r\nindividual existence—yet we are not to become torpid: a metaphysical\r\ncomfort tears us momentarily from the bustle of the transforming\r\nfigures. We are really for brief moments Primordial Being itself,\r\nand feel its indomitable desire for being and joy in existence; the\r\nstruggle, the pain, the destruction of phenomena, now appear to us as\r\nsomething necessary, considering the surplus of innumerable forms of\r\nexistence which throng and push one another into life, considering\r\nthe exuberant fertility of the universal will. We are pierced by the\r\nmaddening sting of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_129\"\u003e[Pg 129]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e these pains at the very moment when we have become,\r\nas it were, one with the immeasurable primordial joy in existence,\r\nand when we anticipate, in Dionysian ecstasy, the indestructibility\r\nand eternity of this joy. In spite of fear and pity, we are the happy\r\nliving beings, not as individuals, but as the \u003ci\u003eone\u003c/i\u003e living being, with\r\nwhose procreative joy we are blended.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe history of the rise of Greek tragedy now tells us with luminous\r\nprecision that the tragic art of the Greeks was really born of the\r\nspirit of music: with which conception we believe we have done justice\r\nfor the first time to the original and most astonishing significance of\r\nthe chorus. At the same time, however, we must admit that the import of\r\ntragic myth as set forth above never became transparent with sufficient\r\nlucidity to the Greek poets, let alone the Greek philosophers; their\r\nheroes speak, as it were, more superficially than they act; the myth\r\ndoes not at all find its adequate objectification in the spoken word.\r\nThe structure of the scenes and the conspicuous images reveal a deeper\r\nwisdom than the poet himself can put into words and concepts: the same\r\nbeing also observed in Shakespeare, whose Hamlet, for instance, in an\r\nanalogous manner talks more superficially than he acts, so that the\r\npreviously mentioned lesson of Hamlet is to be gathered not from his\r\nwords, but from a more profound contemplation and survey of the whole.\r\nWith respect to Greek tragedy, which of course presents itself to us\r\nonly as word-drama, I have even intimated that the incongruence between\r\nmyth and expression might\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_130\"\u003e[Pg 130]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e easily tempt us to regard it as shallower\r\nand less significant than it really is, and accordingly to postulate\r\nfor it a more superficial effect than it must have had according to\r\nthe testimony of the ancients: for how easily one forgets that what\r\nthe word-poet did not succeed in doing, namely realising the highest\r\nspiritualisation and ideality of myth, he might succeed in doing\r\nevery moment as creative musician! We require, to be sure, almost by\r\nphilological method to reconstruct for ourselves the ascendency of\r\nmusical influence in order to receive something of the incomparable\r\ncomfort which must be characteristic of true tragedy. Even this musical\r\nascendency, however, would only have been felt by us as such had\r\nwe been Greeks: while in the entire development of Greek music—as\r\ncompared with the infinitely richer music known and familiar to us—we\r\nimagine we hear only the youthful song of the musical genius intoned\r\nwith a feeling of diffidence. The Greeks are, as the Egyptian priests\r\nsay, eternal children, and in tragic art also they are only children\r\nwho do not know what a sublime play-thing has originated under their\r\nhands and—is being demolished.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThat striving of the spirit of music for symbolic and mythical\r\nmanifestation, which increases from the beginnings of lyric poetry to\r\nAttic tragedy, breaks off all of a sudden immediately after attaining\r\nluxuriant development, and disappears, as it were, from the surface\r\nof Hellenic art: while the Dionysian view of things born of this\r\nstriving lives on in Mysteries and, in its strangest metamorphoses\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_131\"\u003e[Pg 131]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e and\r\ndebasements, does not cease to attract earnest natures. Will it not one\r\nday rise again as art out of its mystic depth?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere the question occupies us, whether the power by the counteracting\r\ninfluence of which tragedy perished, has for all time strength enough\r\nto prevent the artistic reawaking of tragedy and of the tragic view\r\nof things. If ancient tragedy was driven from its course by the\r\ndialectical desire for knowledge and the optimism of science, it might\r\nbe inferred that there is an eternal conflict between \u003ci\u003ethe theoretic\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand \u003ci\u003ethe tragic view of things,\u003c/i\u003e and only after the spirit of science\r\nhas been led to its boundaries, and its claim to universal validity\r\nhas been destroyed by the evidence of these boundaries, can we hope\r\nfor a re-birth of tragedy: for which form of culture we should have to\r\nuse the symbol \u003ci\u003eof the music-practising Socrates\u003c/i\u003e in the sense spoken\r\nof above. In this contrast, I understand by the spirit of science the\r\nbelief which first came to light in the person of Socrates,—the belief\r\nin the fathomableness of nature and in knowledge as a panacea.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHe who recalls the immediate consequences of this restlessly\r\nonward-pressing spirit of science will realise at once that \u003ci\u003emyth\u003c/i\u003e\r\nwas annihilated by it, and that, in consequence of this annihilation,\r\npoetry was driven as a homeless being from her natural ideal soil.\r\nIf we have rightly assigned to music the capacity to reproduce myth\r\nfrom itself, we may in turn expect to find the spirit of science on\r\nthe path where it inimically opposes this mythopoeic power of music.\r\nThis takes place in the development of the \u003ci\u003eNew Attic Dithyramb,\u003c/i\u003e the\r\nmusic of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_132\"\u003e[Pg 132]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e which no longer expressed the inner essence, the will itself,\r\nbut only rendered the phenomenon insufficiently, in an imitation by\r\nmeans of concepts; from which intrinsically degenerate music the truly\r\nmusical natures turned away with the same repugnance that they felt\r\nfor the art-destroying tendency of Socrates. The unerring instinct of\r\nAristophanes surely did the proper thing when it comprised Socrates\r\nhimself, the tragedy of Euripides, and the music of the new Dithyrambic\r\npoets in the same feeling of hatred, and perceived in all three\r\nphenomena the symptoms of a degenerate culture. By this New Dithyramb,\r\nmusic has in an outrageous manner been made the imitative portrait of\r\nphenomena, for instance, of a battle or a storm at sea, and has thus,\r\nof course, been entirely deprived of its mythopoeic power. For if it\r\nendeavours to excite our delight only by compelling us to seek external\r\nanalogies between a vital or natural process and certain rhythmical\r\nfigures and characteristic sounds of music; if our understanding is\r\nexpected to satisfy itself with the perception of these analogies, we\r\nare reduced to a frame of mind in which the reception of the mythical\r\nis impossible; for the myth as a unique exemplar of generality\r\nand truth towering into the infinite, desires to be conspicuously\r\nperceived. The truly Dionysean music presents itself to us as such\r\na general mirror of the universal will: the conspicuous event which\r\nis refracted in this mirror expands at once for our consciousness to\r\nthe copy of an eternal truth. Conversely, such a conspicious event is\r\nat once divested of every mythical\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_133\"\u003e[Pg 133]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e character by the tone-painting\r\nof the New Dithyramb; music has here become a wretched copy of the\r\nphenomenon, and therefore infinitely poorer than the phenomenon itself:\r\nthrough which poverty it still further reduces even the phenomenon for\r\nour consciousness, so that now, for instance, a musically imitated\r\nbattle of this sort exhausts itself in marches, signal-sounds, etc.,\r\nand our imagination is arrested precisely by these superficialities.\r\nTone-painting is therefore in every respect the counterpart of true\r\nmusic with its mythopoeic power: through it the phenomenon, poor in\r\nitself, is made still poorer, while through an isolated Dionysian music\r\nthe phenomenon is evolved and expanded into a picture of the world.\r\nIt was an immense triumph of the non-Dionysian spirit, when, in the\r\ndevelopment of the New Dithyramb, it had estranged music from itself\r\nand reduced it to be the slave of phenomena. Euripides, who, albeit in\r\na higher sense, must be designated as a thoroughly unmusical nature,\r\nis for this very reason a passionate adherent of the New Dithyrambic\r\nMusic, and with the liberality of a freebooter employs all its\r\neffective turns and mannerisms.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIn another direction also we see at work the power of this\r\nun-Dionysian, myth-opposing spirit, when we turn our eyes to the\r\nprevalence of \u003ci\u003echaracter representation\u003c/i\u003e and psychological refinement\r\nfrom Sophocles onwards. The character must no longer be expanded into\r\nan eternal type, but, on the contrary, must operate individually\r\nthrough artistic by-traits and shadings, through the nicest precision\r\nof all lines, in such a manner\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_134\"\u003e[Pg 134]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e that the spectator is in general no\r\nlonger conscious of the myth, but of the mighty nature-myth and the\r\nimitative power of the artist. Here also we observe the victory of\r\nthe phenomenon over the Universal, and the delight in the particular\r\nquasi-anatomical preparation; we actually breathe the air of a\r\ntheoretical world, in which scientific knowledge is valued more highly\r\nthan the artistic reflection of a universal law. The movement along\r\nthe line of the representation of character proceeds rapidly: while\r\nSophocles still delineates complete characters and employs myth for\r\ntheir refined development, Euripides already delineates only prominent\r\nindividual traits of character, which can express themselves in violent\r\nbursts of passion; in the New Attic Comedy, however, there are only\r\nmasks with \u003ci\u003eone\u003c/i\u003e expression: frivolous old men, duped panders, and\r\ncunning slaves in untiring repetition. Where now is the mythopoeic\r\nspirit of music? What is still left now of music is either excitatory\r\nmusic or souvenir music, that is, either a stimulant for dull and\r\nused-up nerves, or tone-painting. As regards the former, it hardly\r\nmatters about the text set to it: the heroes and choruses of Euripides\r\nare already dissolute enough when once they begin to sing; to what pass\r\nmust things have come with his brazen successors?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe new un-Dionysian spirit, however, manifests itself most clearly in\r\nthe \u003ci\u003edénouements\u003c/i\u003e of the new dramas. In the Old Tragedy one could feel\r\nat the close the metaphysical comfort, without which the delight in\r\ntragedy cannot be explained at all; the conciliating tones from another\r\nworld sound purest,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_135\"\u003e[Pg 135]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e perhaps, in the Œdipus at Colonus. Now that the\r\ngenius of music has fled from tragedy, tragedy is, strictly speaking,\r\ndead: for from whence could one now draw the metaphysical comfort? One\r\nsought, therefore, for an earthly unravelment of the tragic dissonance;\r\nthe hero, after he had been sufficiently tortured by fate, reaped a\r\nwell-deserved reward through a superb marriage or divine tokens of\r\nfavour. The hero had turned gladiator, on whom, after being liberally\r\nbattered about and covered with wounds, freedom was occasionally\r\nbestowed. The \u003ci\u003edeus ex machina\u003c/i\u003e took the place of metaphysical comfort.\r\nI will not say that the tragic view of things was everywhere completely\r\ndestroyed by the intruding spirit of the un-Dionysian: we only know\r\nthat it was compelled to flee from art into the under-world as it were,\r\nin the degenerate form of a secret cult. Over the widest extent of the\r\nHellenic character, however, there raged the consuming blast of this\r\nspirit, which manifests itself in the form of \"Greek cheerfulness,\"\r\nwhich we have already spoken of as a senile, unproductive love of\r\nexistence; this cheerfulness is the counterpart of the splendid\r\n\"naïveté\" of the earlier Greeks, which, according to the characteristic\r\nindicated above, must be conceived as the blossom of the Apollonian\r\nculture growing out of a dark abyss, as the victory which the Hellenic\r\nwill, through its mirroring of beauty, obtains over suffering and the\r\nwisdom of suffering. The noblest manifestation of that other form of\r\n\"Greek cheerfulness,\" the Alexandrine, is the cheerfulness of the\r\n\u003ci\u003etheoretical man\u003c/i\u003e: it exhibits the same symptomatic characteristics as\r\nI have just inferred\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_136\"\u003e[Pg 136]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e concerning the spirit of the un-Dionysian:—it\r\ncombats Dionysian wisdom and art, it seeks to dissolve myth, it\r\nsubstitutes for metaphysical comfort an earthly consonance, in fact, a\r\n\u003ci\u003edeus ex machina\u003c/i\u003e of its own, namely the god of machines and crucibles,\r\nthat is, the powers of the genii of nature recognised and employed in\r\nthe service of higher egoism; it believes in amending the world by\r\nknowledge, in guiding life by science, and that it can really confine\r\nthe individual within a narrow sphere of solvable problems, where he\r\ncheerfully says to life: \"I desire thee: it is worth while to know\r\nthee.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e18.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt is an eternal phenomenon: the avidious will can always, by means\r\nof an illusion spread over things, detain its creatures in life\r\nand compel them to live on. One is chained by the Socratic love of\r\nknowledge and the vain hope of being able thereby to heal the eternal\r\nwound of existence; another is ensnared by art\u0027s seductive veil of\r\nbeauty fluttering before his eyes; still another by the metaphysical\r\ncomfort that eternal life flows on indestructibly beneath the whirl of\r\nphenomena: to say nothing of the more ordinary and almost more powerful\r\nillusions which the will has always at hand. These three specimens of\r\nillusion are on the whole designed only for the more nobly endowed\r\nnatures, who in general feel profoundly the weight and burden of\r\nexistence, and must be deluded into forgetfulness of their displeasure\r\nby exquisite stimulants. All that we call culture is made up of these\r\nstimulants;\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_137\"\u003e[Pg 137]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e and, according to the proportion of the ingredients, we\r\nhave either a specially \u003ci\u003eSocratic\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003eartistic\u003c/i\u003e or \u003ci\u003etragic culture\u003c/i\u003e:\r\nor, if historical exemplifications are wanted, there is either an\r\nAlexandrine or a Hellenic or a Buddhistic culture.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOur whole modern world is entangled in the meshes of Alexandrine\r\nculture, and recognises as its ideal the \u003ci\u003etheorist\u003c/i\u003e equipped with\r\nthe most potent means of knowledge, and labouring in the service of\r\nscience, of whom the archetype and progenitor is Socrates. All our\r\neducational methods have originally this ideal in view: every other\r\nform of existence must struggle onwards wearisomely beside it, as\r\nsomething tolerated, but not intended. In an almost alarming manner the\r\ncultured man was here found for a long time only in the form of the\r\nscholar: even our poetical arts have been forced to evolve from learned\r\nimitations, and in the main effect of the rhyme we still recognise the\r\norigin of our poetic form from artistic experiments with a non-native\r\nand thoroughly learned language. How unintelligible must \u003ci\u003eFaust,\u003c/i\u003e the\r\nmodern cultured man, who is in himself intelligible, have appeared to a\r\ntrue Greek,—Faust, storming discontentedly through all the faculties,\r\ndevoted to magic and the devil from a desire for knowledge, whom we\r\nhave only to place alongside of Socrates for the purpose of comparison,\r\nin order to see that modern man begins to divine the boundaries of\r\nthis Socratic love of perception and longs for a coast in the wide\r\nwaste of the ocean of knowledge. When Goethe on one occasion said to\r\nEckermann with reference to Napoleon: \"Yes, my good friend, there is\r\nalso a productiveness of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_138\"\u003e[Pg 138]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e deeds,\" he reminded us in a charmingly naïve\r\nmanner that the non-theorist is something incredible and astounding to\r\nmodern man; so that the wisdom of Goethe is needed once more in order\r\nto discover that such a surprising form of existence is comprehensible,\r\nnay even pardonable.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eNow, we must not hide from ourselves what is concealed in the heart\r\nof this Socratic culture: Optimism, deeming itself absolute! Well, we\r\nmust not be alarmed if the fruits of this optimism ripen,—if society,\r\nleavened to the very lowest strata by this kind of culture, gradually\r\nbegins to tremble through wanton agitations and desires, if the belief\r\nin the earthly happiness of all, if the belief in the possibility of\r\nsuch a general intellectual culture is gradually transformed into the\r\nthreatening demand for such an Alexandrine earthly happiness, into\r\nthe conjuring of a Euripidean \u003ci\u003edeus ex machina.\u003c/i\u003e Let us mark this\r\nwell: the Alexandrine culture requires a slave class, to be able to\r\nexist permanently: but, in its optimistic view of life, it denies the\r\nnecessity of such a class, and consequently, when the effect of its\r\nbeautifully seductive and tranquillising utterances about the \"dignity\r\nof man\" and the \"dignity of labour\" is spent, it gradually drifts\r\ntowards a dreadful destination. There is nothing more terrible than\r\na barbaric slave class, who have learned to regard their existence\r\nas an injustice, and now prepare to take vengeance, not only for\r\nthemselves, but for all generations. In the face of such threatening\r\nstorms, who dares to appeal with confident spirit to our pale and\r\nexhausted religions, which even in their foundations have degenerated\r\ninto\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_139\"\u003e[Pg 139]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e scholastic religions?—so that myth, the necessary prerequisite\r\nof every religion, is already paralysed everywhere, and even in this\r\ndomain the optimistic spirit—which we have just designated as the\r\nannihilating germ of society—has attained the mastery.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhile the evil slumbering in the heart of theoretical culture gradually\r\nbegins to disquiet modern man, and makes him anxiously ransack the\r\nstores of his experience for means to avert the danger, though not\r\nbelieving very much in these means; while he, therefore, begins to\r\ndivine the consequences his position involves: great, universally\r\ngifted natures have contrived, with an incredible amount of thought, to\r\nmake use of the apparatus of science itself, in order to point out the\r\nlimits and the relativity of knowledge generally, and thus definitely\r\nto deny the claim of science to universal validity and universal ends:\r\nwith which demonstration the illusory notion was for the first time\r\nrecognised as such, which pretends, with the aid of causality, to be\r\nable to fathom the innermost essence of things. The extraordinary\r\ncourage and wisdom of \u003ci\u003eKant\u003c/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eSchopenhauer\u003c/i\u003e have succeeded in\r\ngaining the most, difficult, victory, the victory over the optimism\r\nhidden in the essence of logic, which optimism in turn is the basis of\r\nour culture. While this optimism, resting on apparently unobjectionable\r\n\u003ci\u003eæterna veritates,\u003c/i\u003e believed in the intelligibility and solvability of\r\nall the riddles of the world, and treated space, time, and causality\r\nas totally unconditioned laws of the most universal validity, Kant, on\r\nthe other hand, showed that these served in reality only to elevate the\r\nmere\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_140\"\u003e[Pg 140]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e phenomenon, the work of Mâyâ, to the sole and highest reality,\r\nputting it in place of the innermost and true essence of things, thus\r\nmaking the actual knowledge of this essence impossible, that is,\r\naccording to the expression of Schopenhauer, to lull the dreamer still\r\nmore soundly asleep (\u003ci\u003eWelt als Wille und Vorstellung,\u003c/i\u003e I. 498). With\r\nthis knowledge a culture is inaugurated which I venture to designate as\r\na tragic culture; the most important characteristic of which is that\r\nwisdom takes the place of science as the highest end,—wisdom, which,\r\nuninfluenced by the seductive distractions of the sciences, turns\r\nwith unmoved eye to the comprehensive view of the world, and seeks to\r\napprehend therein the eternal suffering as its own with sympathetic\r\nfeelings of love. Let us imagine a rising generation with this\r\nundauntedness of vision, with this heroic desire for the prodigious,\r\nlet us imagine the bold step of these dragon-slayers, the proud and\r\ndaring spirit with which they turn their backs on all the effeminate\r\ndoctrines of optimism in order \"to live resolutely\" in the Whole and in\r\nthe Full: would it not be necessary for the tragic man of this culture,\r\nwith his self-discipline to earnestness and terror, to desire a new\r\nart, the art of metaphysical comfort,—namely, tragedy, as the Hellena\r\nbelonging to him, and that he should exclaim with Faust:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\nUnd sollt\u0027 ich nicht, sehnsüchtigster Gewalt,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn\u0027s Leben ziehn die einzigste Gestalt?\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_21_24\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_21_24\"\u003e[21]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_141\"\u003e[Pg 141]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut now that the Socratic culture has been shaken from two directions,\r\nand is only able to hold the sceptre of its infallibility with\r\ntrembling hands,—once by the fear of its own conclusions which it at\r\nlength begins to surmise, and again, because it is no longer convinced\r\nwith its former naïve trust of the eternal validity of its foundation,\r\n—it is a sad spectacle to behold how the dance of its thought always\r\nrushes longingly on new forms, to embrace them, and then, shuddering,\r\nlets them go of a sudden, as Mephistopheles does the seductive Lamiæ.\r\nIt is certainly the symptom of the \"breach\" which all are wont to speak\r\nof as the primordial suffering of modern culture that the theoretical\r\nman, alarmed and dissatisfied at his own conclusions, no longer dares\r\nto entrust himself to the terrible ice-stream of existence: he runs\r\ntimidly up and down the bank. He no longer wants to have anything\r\nentire, with all the natural cruelty of things, so thoroughly has he\r\nbeen spoiled by his optimistic contemplation. Besides, he feels that\r\na culture built up on the principles of science must perish when it\r\nbegins to grow \u003ci\u003eillogical,\u003c/i\u003e that is, to avoid its own conclusions.\r\nOur art reveals this universal trouble: in vain does one seek help by\r\nimitating all the great productive periods and natures, in vain does\r\none accumulate the entire \"world-literature\" around modern man for\r\nhis comfort, in vain does one place one\u0027s self in the midst of the\r\nart-styles and artists of all ages, so that one may give names to them\r\nas Adam did to the beasts: one still continues the eternal hungerer,\r\nthe \"critic\" without joy and energy, the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_142\"\u003e[Pg 142]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Alexandrine man, who is in\r\nthe main a librarian and corrector of proofs, and who, pitiable wretch\r\ngoes blind from the dust of books and printers\u0027 errors.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_21_24\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_21_24\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[21]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Cf. Introduction, p. 14.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e19.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe cannot designate the intrinsic substance of Socratic culture more\r\ndistinctly than by calling it \u003ci\u003ethe culture of the opera\u003c/i\u003e: for it is in\r\nthis department that culture has expressed itself with special naïveté\r\nconcerning its aims and perceptions, which is sufficiently surprising\r\nwhen we compare the genesis of the opera and the facts of operatic\r\ndevelopment with the eternal truths of the Apollonian and Dionysian.\r\nI call to mind first of all the origin of the \u003ci\u003estilo rappresentativo\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand the recitative. Is it credible that this thoroughly externalised\r\noperatic music, incapable of devotion, could be received and cherished\r\nwith enthusiastic favour, as a re-birth, as it were, of all true music,\r\nby the very age in which the ineffably sublime and sacred music of\r\nPalestrina had originated? And who, on the other hand, would think of\r\nmaking only the diversion-craving luxuriousness of those Florentine\r\ncircles and the vanity of their dramatic singers responsible for the\r\nlove of the opera which spread with such rapidity? That in the same\r\nage, even among the same people, this passion for a half-musical\r\nmode of speech should awaken alongside of the vaulted structure\r\nof Palestrine harmonies which the entire Christian Middle Age had\r\nbeen building up, I can explain\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_143\"\u003e[Pg 143]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e to myself only by a co-operating\r\n\u003ci\u003eextra-artistic tendency\u003c/i\u003e in the essence of the recitative.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe listener, who insists on distinctly hearing the words under the\r\nmusic, has his wishes met by the singer in that he speaks rather than\r\nsings, and intensifies the pathetic expression of the words in this\r\nhalf-song: by this intensification of the pathos he facilitates the\r\nunderstanding of the words and surmounts the remaining half of the\r\nmusic. The specific danger which now threatens him is that in some\r\nunguarded moment he may give undue importance to music, which would\r\nforthwith result in the destruction of the pathos of the speech and\r\nthe distinctness of the words: while, on the other hand, he always\r\nfeels himself impelled to musical delivery and to virtuose exhibition\r\nof vocal talent. Here the \"poet\" comes to his aid, who knows how to\r\nprovide him with abundant opportunities for lyrical interjections,\r\nrepetitions of words and sentences, etc.,—at which places the singer,\r\nnow in the purely musical element, can rest himself without minding the\r\nwords. This alternation of emotionally impressive, yet only half-sung\r\nspeech and wholly sung interjections, which is characteristic of the\r\n\u003ci\u003estilo rappresentativo,\u003c/i\u003e this rapidly changing endeavour to operate\r\nnow on the conceptional and representative faculty of the hearer, now\r\non his musical sense, is something so thoroughly unnatural and withal\r\nso intrinsically contradictory both to the Apollonian and Dionysian\r\nartistic impulses, that one has to infer an origin of the recitative\r\nforeign to all artistic instincts. The\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_144\"\u003e[Pg 144]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e recitative must be defined,\r\naccording to this description, as the combination of epic and lyric\r\ndelivery, not indeed as an intrinsically stable combination which\r\ncould not be attained in the case of such totally disparate elements,\r\nbut an entirely superficial mosaic conglutination, such as is totally\r\nunprecedented in the domain of nature and experience. \u003ci\u003eBut this was\r\nnot the opinion of the inventors of the recitative:\u003c/i\u003e they themselves,\r\nand their age with them, believed rather that the mystery of antique\r\nmusic had been solved by this \u003ci\u003estilo rappresentativo,\u003c/i\u003e in which, as\r\nthey thought, the only explanation of the enormous influence of an\r\nOrpheus, an Amphion, and even of Greek tragedy was to be found. The new\r\nstyle was regarded by them as the re-awakening of the most effective\r\nmusic, the Old Greek music: indeed, with the universal and popular\r\nconception of the Homeric world \u003ci\u003eas the primitive world,\u003c/i\u003e they could\r\nabandon themselves to the dream of having descended once more into the\r\nparadisiac beginnings of mankind, wherein music also must needs have\r\nhad the unsurpassed purity, power, and innocence of which the poets\r\ncould give such touching accounts in their pastoral plays. Here we see\r\ninto the internal process of development of this thoroughly modern\r\nvariety of art, the opera: a powerful need here acquires an art, but\r\nit is a need of an unæsthetic kind: the yearning for the idyll, the\r\nbelief in the prehistoric existence of the artistic, good man. The\r\nrecitative was regarded as the rediscovered language of this primitive\r\nman; the opera as the recovered land of this\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_145\"\u003e[Pg 145]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e idyllically or heroically\r\ngood creature, who in every action follows at the same time a natural\r\nartistic impulse, who sings a little along with all he has to say, in\r\norder to sing immediately with full voice on the slightest emotional\r\nexcitement. It is now a matter of indifference to us that the humanists\r\nof those days combated the old ecclesiastical representation of man\r\nas naturally corrupt and lost, with this new-created picture of the\r\nparadisiac artist: so that opera may be understood as the oppositional\r\ndogma of the good man, whereby however a solace was at the same time\r\nfound for the pessimism to which precisely the seriously-disposed\r\nmen of that time were most strongly incited, owing to the frightful\r\nuncertainty of all conditions of life. It is enough to have perceived\r\nthat the intrinsic charm, and therefore the genesis, of this new form\r\nof art lies in the gratification of an altogether unæsthetic need, in\r\nthe optimistic glorification of man as such, in the conception of the\r\nprimitive man as the man naturally good and artistic: a principle of\r\nthe opera which has gradually changed into a threatening and terrible\r\n\u003ci\u003edemand,\u003c/i\u003e which, in face of the socialistic movements of the present\r\ntime, we can no longer ignore. The \"good primitive man\" wants his\r\nrights: what paradisiac prospects!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eI here place by way of parallel still another equally obvious\r\nconfirmation of my view that opera is built up on the same principles\r\nas our Alexandrine culture. Opera is the birth of the theoretical man,\r\nof the critical layman, not of the artist: one of the most surprising\r\nfacts in the\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_146\"\u003e[Pg 146]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e whole history of art. It was the demand of thoroughly\r\nunmusical hearers that the words must above all be understood, so\r\nthat according to them a re-birth of music is only to be expected\r\nwhen some mode of singing has been discovered in which the text-word\r\nlords over the counterpoint as the master over the servant. For the\r\nwords, it is argued, are as much nobler than the accompanying harmonic\r\nsystem as the soul is nobler than the body. It was in accordance with\r\nthe laically unmusical crudeness of these views that the combination\r\nof music, picture and expression was effected in the beginnings of\r\nthe opera: in the spirit of this æsthetics the first experiments\r\nwere also made in the leading laic circles of Florence by the poets\r\nand singers patronised there. The man incapable of art creates for\r\nhimself a species of art precisely because he is the inartistic man\r\nas such. Because he does not divine the Dionysian depth of music, he\r\nchanges his musical taste into appreciation of the understandable\r\nword-and-tone-rhetoric of the passions in the \u003ci\u003estilo rappresentativo,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nand into the voluptuousness of the arts of song; because he is unable\r\nto behold a vision, he forces the machinist and the decorative artist\r\ninto his service; because he cannot apprehend the true nature of the\r\nartist, he conjures up the \"artistic primitive man\" to suit his taste,\r\nthat is, the man who sings and recites verses under the influence\r\nof passion. He dreams himself into a time when passion suffices to\r\ngenerate songs and poems: as if emotion had ever been able to create\r\nanything artistic. The postulate of the opera is a false\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_147\"\u003e[Pg 147]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e belief\r\nconcerning the artistic process, in fact, the idyllic belief that every\r\nsentient man is an artist. In the sense of this belief, opera is the\r\nexpression of the taste of the laity in art, who dictate their laws\r\nwith the cheerful optimism of the theorist.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eShould we desire to unite in one the two conceptions just set forth\r\nas influential in the origin of opera, it would only remain for us to\r\nspeak of an \u003ci\u003eidyllic tendency of the opera\u003c/i\u003e: in which connection we\r\nmay avail ourselves exclusively of the phraseology and illustration of\r\nSchiller.\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_22_25\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_22_25\"\u003e[22]\u003c/a\u003e \"Nature and the ideal,\" he says, \"are either objects of\r\ngrief, when the former is represented as lost, the latter unattained;\r\nor both are objects of joy, in that they are represented as real.\r\nThe first case furnishes the elegy in its narrower signification,\r\nthe second the idyll in its widest sense.\" Here we must at once call\r\nattention to the common characteristic of these two conceptions in\r\noperatic genesis, namely, that in them the ideal is not regarded as\r\nunattained or nature as lost Agreeably to this sentiment, there was\r\na primitive age of man when he lay close to the heart of nature,\r\nand, owing to this naturalness, had attained the ideal of mankind in\r\na paradisiac goodness and artist-organisation: from which perfect\r\nprimitive man all of us were supposed to be descended; whose faithful\r\ncopy we were in fact still said to be: only we had to cast off some\r\nfew things in order to recognise ourselves once more as this primitive\r\nman, on the strength of a voluntary renunciation of superfluous\r\nlearnedness, of super-abundant\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_148\"\u003e[Pg 148]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e culture. It was to such a concord of\r\nnature and the ideal, to an idyllic reality, that the cultured man\r\nof the Renaissance suffered himself to be led back by his operatic\r\nimitation of Greek tragedy; he made use of this tragedy, as Dante made\r\nuse of Vergil, in order to be led up to the gates of paradise: while\r\nfrom this point he went on without assistance and passed over from an\r\nimitation of the highest form of Greek art to a \"restoration of all\r\nthings,\" to an imitation of man\u0027s original art-world. What delightfully\r\nnaïve hopefulness of these daring endeavours, in the very heart of\r\ntheoretical culture!—solely to be explained by the comforting belief,\r\nthat \"man-in-himself\" is the eternally virtuous hero of the opera,\r\nthe eternally fluting or singing shepherd, who must always in the end\r\nrediscover himself as such, if he has at any time really lost himself;\r\nsolely the fruit of the optimism, which here rises like a sweetishly\r\nseductive column of vapour out of the depth of the Socratic conception\r\nof the world.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThe features of the opera therefore do not by any means exhibit the\r\nelegiac sorrow of an eternal loss, but rather the cheerfulness of\r\neternal rediscovery, the indolent delight in an idyllic reality which\r\none can at least represent to one\u0027s self each moment as real: and in\r\nso doing one will perhaps surmise some day that this supposed reality\r\nis nothing but a fantastically silly dawdling, concerning which every\r\none, who could judge it by the terrible earnestness of true nature\r\nand compare it with the actual primitive scenes of the beginnings of\r\nmankind, would have to call out with loathing: Away with\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_149\"\u003e[Pg 149]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the phantom!\r\nNevertheless one would err if one thought it possible to frighten\r\naway merely by a vigorous shout such a dawdling thing as the opera,\r\nas if it were a spectre. He who would destroy the opera must join\r\nissue with Alexandrine cheerfulness, which expresses itself so naïvely\r\ntherein concerning its favourite representation; of which in fact\r\nit is the specific form of art. But what is to be expected for art\r\nitself from the operation of a form of art, the beginnings of which\r\ndo not at all lie in the æsthetic province; which has rather stolen\r\nover from a half-moral sphere into the artistic domain, and has been\r\nable only now and then to delude us concerning this hybrid origin? By\r\nwhat sap is this parasitic opera-concern nourished, if not by that\r\nof true art? Must we not suppose that the highest and indeed the\r\ntruly serious task of art—to free the eye from its glance into the\r\nhorrors of night and to deliver the \"subject\" by the healing balm of\r\nappearance from the spasms of volitional agitations—will degenerate\r\nunder the influence of its idyllic seductions and Alexandrine\r\nadulation to an empty dissipating tendency, to pastime? What will\r\nbecome of the eternal truths of the Dionysian and Apollonian in such\r\nan amalgamation of styles as I have exhibited in the character of the\r\n\u003ci\u003estilo rappresentativo\u003c/i\u003e? where music is regarded as the servant, the\r\ntext as the master, where music is compared with the body, the text\r\nwith the soul? where at best the highest aim will be the realisation\r\nof a paraphrastic tone-painting, just as formerly in the New Attic\r\nDithyramb? where music is\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_150\"\u003e[Pg 150]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e completely alienated from its true dignity\r\nof being, the Dionysian mirror of the world, so that the only thing\r\nleft to it is, as a slave of phenomena, to imitate the formal character\r\nthereof, and to excite an external pleasure in the play of lines and\r\nproportions. On close observation, this fatal influence of the opera\r\non music is seen to coincide absolutely with the universal development\r\nof modern music; the optimism lurking in the genesis of the opera and\r\nin the essence of culture represented thereby, has, with alarming\r\nrapidity, succeeded in divesting music of its Dionyso-cosmic mission\r\nand in impressing on it a playfully formal and pleasurable character: a\r\nchange with which perhaps only the metamorphosis of the Æschylean man\r\ninto the cheerful Alexandrine man could be compared.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf, however, in the exemplification herewith indicated we have rightly\r\nassociated the evanescence of the Dionysian spirit with a most\r\nstriking, but hitherto unexplained transformation and degeneration of\r\nthe Hellene—what hopes must revive in us when the most trustworthy\r\nauspices guarantee \u003ci\u003ethe reverse process, the gradual awakening of\r\nthe Dionysian spirit\u003c/i\u003e in our modern world! It is impossible for the\r\ndivine strength of Herakles to languish for ever in voluptuous bondage\r\nto Omphale. Out of the Dionysian root of the German spirit a power\r\nhas arisen which has nothing in common with the primitive conditions\r\nof Socratic culture, and can neither be explained nor excused\r\nthereby, but is rather regarded by this culture as something terribly\r\ninexplicable and overwhelmingly hostile,mdash;namely, \u003ci\u003eGerman music\u003c/i\u003e as\r\nwe have to understand\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_151\"\u003e[Pg 151]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e it, especially in its vast solar orbit from\r\nBach to Beethoven, from Beethoven to Wagner. What even under the most\r\nfavourable circumstances can the knowledge-craving Socratism of our\r\ndays do with this demon rising from unfathomable depths? Neither by\r\nmeans of the zig-zag and arabesque work of operatic melody, nor with\r\nthe aid of the arithmetical counting board of fugue and contrapuntal\r\ndialectics is the formula to be found, in the trebly powerful light\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_23_26\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_23_26\"\u003e[23]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nof which one could subdue this demon and compel it to speak. What\r\na spectacle, when our æsthetes, with a net of \"beauty\" peculiar to\r\nthemselves, now pursue and clutch at the genius of music romping\r\nabout before them with incomprehensible life, and in so doing display\r\nactivities which are not to be judged by the standard of eternal beauty\r\nany more than by the standard of the sublime. Let us but observe these\r\npatrons of music as they are, at close range, when they call out so\r\nindefatigably \"beauty! beauty!\" to discover whether they have the marks\r\nof nature\u0027s darling children who are fostered and fondled in the lap\r\nof the beautiful, or whether they do not rather seek a disguise for\r\ntheir own rudeness, an æsthetical pretext for their own unemotional\r\ninsipidity: I am thinking here, for instance, of Otto Jahn. But let the\r\nliar and the hypocrite beware of our German music: for in the midst\r\nof all our culture it is really the only genuine, pure and purifying\r\nfire-spirit from which and towards which, as in the teaching of the\r\ngreat\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_152\"\u003e[Pg 152]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Heraclitus of Ephesus, all things move in a double orbit-all\r\nthat we now call culture, education, civilisation, must appear some day\r\nbefore the unerring judge, Dionysus.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet us recollect furthermore how Kant and Schopenhauer made it\r\npossible for the spirit of \u003ci\u003eGerman philosophy\u003c/i\u003e streaming from the\r\nsame sources to annihilate the satisfied delight in existence of\r\nscientific Socratism by the delimitation of the boundaries thereof; how\r\nthrough this delimitation an infinitely profounder and more serious\r\nview of ethical problems and of art was inaugurated, which we may\r\nunhesitatingly designate as \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e wisdom comprised in concepts.\r\nTo what then does the mystery of this oneness of German music and\r\nphilosophy point, if not to a new form of existence, concerning the\r\nsubstance of which we can only inform ourselves presentiently from\r\nHellenic analogies? For to us who stand on the boundary line between\r\ntwo different forms of existence, the Hellenic prototype retains the\r\nimmeasurable value, that therein all these transitions and struggles\r\nare imprinted in a classically instructive form: except that we, as\r\nit were, experience analogically in \u003ci\u003ereverse\u003c/i\u003e order the chief epochs\r\nof the Hellenic genius, and seem now, for instance, to pass backwards\r\nfrom the Alexandrine age to the period of tragedy. At the same time\r\nwe have the feeling that the birth of a tragic age betokens only a\r\nreturn to itself of the German spirit, a blessed self-rediscovering\r\nafter excessive and urgent external influences have for a long time\r\ncompelled it, living as it did in\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_153\"\u003e[Pg 153]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e helpless barbaric formlessness, to\r\nservitude under their form. It may at last, after returning to the\r\nprimitive source of its being, venture to stalk along boldly and freely\r\nbefore all nations without hugging the leading-strings of a Romanic\r\ncivilisation: if only it can learn implicitly of one people—the\r\nGreeks, of whom to learn at all is itself a high honour and a rare\r\ndistinction. And when did we require these highest of all teachers more\r\nthan at present, when we experience \u003ci\u003ea re-birth of tragedy\u003c/i\u003e and are in\r\ndanger alike of not knowing whence it comes, and of being unable to\r\nmake clear to ourselves whither it tends.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_22_25\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_22_25\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[22]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Essay on Elegiac Poetry.—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_23_26\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_23_26\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[23]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e See \u003ci\u003eFaust,\u003c/i\u003e Part 1.1. 965—TR.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e20.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIt may be weighed some day before an impartial judge, in what time and\r\nin what men the German spirit has thus far striven most resolutely to\r\nlearn of the Greeks: and if we confidently assume that this unique\r\npraise must be accorded to the noblest intellectual efforts of Goethe,\r\nSchiller, and Winkelmann, it will certainly have to be added that\r\nsince their time, and subsequently to the more immediate influences of\r\nthese efforts, the endeavour to attain to culture and to the Greeks by\r\nthis path has in an incomprehensible manner grown feebler and feebler.\r\nIn order not to despair altogether of the German spirit, must we not\r\ninfer therefrom that possibly, in some essential matter, even these\r\nchampions could not penetrate into the core of the Hellenic nature,\r\nand were unable to establish a permanent\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_154\"\u003e[Pg 154]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e friendly alliance between\r\nGerman and Greek culture? So that perhaps an unconscious perception\r\nof this shortcoming might raise also in more serious minds the\r\ndisheartening doubt as to whether after such predecessors they could\r\nadvance still farther on this path of culture, or could reach the goal\r\nat all. Accordingly, we see the opinions concerning the value of Greek\r\ncontribution to culture degenerate since that time in the most alarming\r\nmanner; the expression of compassionate superiority may be heard\r\nin the most heterogeneous intellectual and non-intellectual camps,\r\nand elsewhere a totally ineffective declamation dallies with \"Greek\r\nharmony,\" \"Greek beauty,\" \"Greek cheerfulness.\" And in the very circles\r\nwhose dignity it might be to draw indefatigably from the Greek channel\r\nfor the good of German culture, in the circles of the teachers in the\r\nhigher educational institutions, they have learned best to compromise\r\nwith the Greeks in good time and on easy terms, to the extent often of\r\na sceptical abandonment of the Hellenic ideal and a total perversion of\r\nthe true purpose of antiquarian studies. If there be any one at all in\r\nthese circles who has not completely exhausted himself in the endeavour\r\nto be a trustworthy corrector of old texts or a natural-history\r\nmicroscopist of language, he perhaps seeks also to appropriate Grecian\r\nantiquity \"historically\" along with other antiquities, and in any case\r\naccording to the method and with the supercilious air of our present\r\ncultured historiography. When, therefore, the intrinsic efficiency\r\nof the higher educational\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_155\"\u003e[Pg 155]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e institutions has never perhaps been lower\r\nor feebler than at present, when the \"journalist,\" the paper slave\r\nof the day, has triumphed over the academic teacher in all matters\r\npertaining to culture, and there only remains to the latter the often\r\npreviously experienced metamorphosis of now fluttering also, as a\r\ncheerful cultured butterfly, in the idiom of the journalist, with the\r\n\"light elegance\" peculiar thereto—with what painful confusion must the\r\ncultured persons of a period like the present gaze at the phenomenon\r\n(which can perhaps be comprehended analogically only by means of the\r\nprofoundest principle of the hitherto unintelligible Hellenic genius)\r\nof the reawakening of the Dionysian spirit and the re-birth of tragedy?\r\nNever has there been another art-period in which so-called culture\r\nand true art have been so estranged and opposed, as is so obviously\r\nthe case at present. We understand why so feeble a culture hates true\r\nart; it fears destruction thereby. But must not an entire domain of\r\nculture, namely the Socratic-Alexandrine, have exhausted its powers\r\nafter contriving to culminate in such a daintily-tapering point as our\r\npresent culture? When it was not permitted to heroes like Goethe and\r\nSchiller to break open the enchanted gate which leads into the Hellenic\r\nmagic mountain, when with their most dauntless striving they did not\r\nget beyond the longing gaze which the Goethean Iphigenia cast from\r\nbarbaric Tauris to her home across the ocean, what could the epigones\r\nof such heroes hope for, if the gate should not open to them\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_156\"\u003e[Pg 156]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e suddenly\r\nof its own accord, in an entirely different position, quite overlooked\r\nin all endeavours of culture hitherto—amidst the mystic tones of\r\nreawakened tragic music.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet no one attempt to weaken our faith in an impending re-birth of\r\nHellenic antiquity; for in it alone we find our hope of a renovation\r\nand purification of the German spirit through the fire-magic of music.\r\nWhat else do we know of amidst the present desolation and languor\r\nof culture, which could awaken any comforting expectation for the\r\nfuture? We look in vain for one single vigorously-branching root, for\r\na speck of fertile and healthy soil: there is dust, sand, torpidness\r\nand languishing everywhere! Under such circumstances a cheerless\r\nsolitary wanderer could choose for himself no better symbol than the\r\nKnight with Death and the Devil, as Dürer has sketched him for us, the\r\nmail-clad knight, grim and stern of visage, who is able, unperturbed\r\nby his gruesome companions, and yet hopelessly, to pursue his terrible\r\npath with horse and hound alone. Our Schopenhauer was such a Dürerian\r\nknight: he was destitute of all hope, but he sought the truth. There is\r\nnot his equal.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eBut how suddenly this gloomily depicted wilderness of our exhausted\r\nculture changes when the Dionysian magic touches it! A hurricane\r\nseizes everything decrepit, decaying, collapsed, and stunted; wraps\r\nit whirlingly into a red cloud of dust; and carries it like a vulture\r\ninto the air. Confused thereby, our glances seek for what has vanished:\r\nfor what they see is something risen to\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_157\"\u003e[Pg 157]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e the golden light as from\r\na depression, so full and green, so luxuriantly alive, so ardently\r\ninfinite. Tragedy sits in the midst of this exuberance of life,\r\nsorrow and joy, in sublime ecstasy; she listens to a distant doleful\r\nsong—it tells of the Mothers of Being, whose names are: \u003ci\u003eWahn, Wille,\r\nWehe\u003c/i\u003e[21]—Yes, my friends, believe with me in Dionysian life and\r\nin the re-birth of tragedy. The time of the Socratic man is past:\r\ncrown yourselves with ivy, take in your hands the thyrsus, and do not\r\nmarvel if tigers and panthers lie down fawning at your feet. Dare now\r\nto be tragic men, for ye are to be redeemed! Ye are to accompany the\r\nDionysian festive procession from India to Greece! Equip yourselves for\r\nsevere conflict, but believe in the wonders of your god!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e21.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eGliding back from these hortative tones into the mood which befits\r\nthe contemplative man, I repeat that it can only be learnt from the\r\nGreeks what such a sudden and miraculous awakening of tragedy must\r\nsignify for the essential basis of a people\u0027s life. It is the people\r\nof the tragic mysteries who fight the battles with the Persians: and\r\nagain, the people who waged such wars required tragedy as a necessary\r\nhealing potion. Who would have imagined that there was still such a\r\nuniformly powerful effusion of the simplest political sentiments, the\r\nmost natural domestic\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_158\"\u003e[Pg 158]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e instincts and the primitive manly delight in\r\nstrife in this very people after it had been shaken to its foundations\r\nfor several generations by the most violent convulsions of the\r\nDionysian demon? If at every considerable spreading of the Dionysian\r\ncommotion one always perceives that the Dionysian loosing from the\r\nshackles of the individual makes itself felt first of all in an\r\nincreased encroachment on the political instincts, to the extent of\r\nindifference, yea even hostility, it is certain, on the other hand,\r\nthat the state-forming Apollo is also the genius of the \u003ci\u003eprincipium\r\nindividuationis,\u003c/i\u003e and that the state and domestic sentiment cannot live\r\nwithout an assertion of individual personality. There is only one way\r\nfrom orgasm for a people,—the way to Indian Buddhism, which, in order\r\nto be at all endured with its longing for nothingness, requires the\r\nrare ecstatic states with their elevation above space, time, and the\r\nindividual; just as these in turn demand a philosophy which teaches how\r\nto overcome the indescribable depression of the intermediate states by\r\nmeans of a fancy. With the same necessity, owing to the unconditional\r\ndominance of political impulses, a people drifts into a path of\r\nextremest secularisation, the most magnificent, but also the most\r\nterrible expression of which is the Roman \u003ci\u003eimperium\u003c/i\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003ePlaced between India and Rome, and constrained to a seductive choice,\r\nthe Greeks succeeded in devising in classical purity still a third form\r\nof life, not indeed for long private use, but just on that account for\r\nimmortality. For it\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_159\"\u003e[Pg 159]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e holds true in all things that those whom the gods\r\nlove die young, but, on the other hand, it holds equally true that they\r\nthen live eternally with the gods. One must not demand of what is most\r\nnoble that it should possess the durable toughness of leather; the\r\nstaunch durability, which, for instance, was inherent in the national\r\ncharacter of the Romans, does not probably belong to the indispensable\r\npredicates of perfection. But if we ask by what physic it was possible\r\nfor the Greeks, in their best period, notwithstanding the extraordinary\r\nstrength of their Dionysian and political impulses, neither to exhaust\r\nthemselves by ecstatic brooding, nor by a consuming scramble for empire\r\nand worldly honour, but to attain the splendid mixture which we find\r\nin a noble, inflaming, and contemplatively disposing wine, we must\r\nremember the enormous power of \u003ci\u003etragedy,\u003c/i\u003e exciting, purifying, and\r\ndisburdening the entire life of a people; the highest value of which\r\nwe shall divine only when, as in the case of the Greeks, it appears\r\nto us as the essence of all the prophylactic healing forces, as the\r\nmediator arbitrating between the strongest and most inherently fateful\r\ncharacteristics of a people.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eTragedy absorbs the highest musical orgasm into itself, so that it\r\nabsolutely brings music to perfection among the Greeks, as among\r\nourselves; but it then places alongside thereof tragic myth and the\r\ntragic hero, who, like a mighty Titan, takes the entire Dionysian world\r\non his shoulders and disburdens us thereof; while, on the other hand,\r\nit is able by means of this same tragic\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_160\"\u003e[Pg 160]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e myth, in the person of the\r\ntragic hero, to deliver us from the intense longing for this existence,\r\nand reminds us with warning hand of another existence and a higher\r\njoy, for which the struggling hero prepares himself presentiently by\r\nhis destruction, not by his victories. Tragedy sets a sublime symbol,\r\nnamely the myth between the universal authority of its music and the\r\nreceptive Dionysian hearer, and produces in him the illusion that music\r\nis only the most effective means for the animation of the plastic world\r\nof myth. Relying upon this noble illusion, she can now move her limbs\r\nfor the dithyrambic dance, and abandon herself unhesitatingly to an\r\norgiastic feeling of freedom, in which she could not venture to indulge\r\nas music itself, without this illusion. The myth protects us from the\r\nmusic, while, on the other hand, it alone gives the highest freedom\r\nthereto. By way of return for this service, music imparts to tragic\r\nmyth such an impressive and convincing metaphysical significance as\r\ncould never be attained by word and image, without this unique aid;\r\nand the tragic spectator in particular experiences thereby the sure\r\npresentiment of supreme joy to which the path through destruction and\r\nnegation leads; so that he thinks he hears, as it were, the innermost\r\nabyss of things speaking audibly to him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIf in these last propositions I have succeeded in giving perhaps only a\r\npreliminary expression, intelligible to few at first, to this difficult\r\nrepresentation, I must not here desist from stimulating my friends to a\r\nfurther attempt, or\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_161\"\u003e[Pg 161]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e cease from beseeching them to prepare themselves,\r\nby a detached example of our common experience, for the perception of\r\nthe universal proposition. In this example I must not appeal to those\r\nwho make use of the pictures of the scenic processes, the words and the\r\nemotions of the performers, in order to approximate thereby to musical\r\nperception; for none of these speak music as their mother-tongue,\r\nand, in spite of the aids in question, do not get farther than the\r\nprecincts of musical perception, without ever being allowed to touch\r\nits innermost shrines; some of them, like Gervinus, do not even reach\r\nthe precincts by this path. I have only to address myself to those\r\nwho, being immediately allied to music, have it as it were for their\r\nmother\u0027s lap, and are connected with things almost exclusively by\r\nunconscious musical relations. I ask the question of these genuine\r\nmusicians: whether they can imagine a man capable of hearing the third\r\nact of \u003ci\u003eTristan und Isolde\u003c/i\u003e without any aid of word or scenery, purely\r\nas a vast symphonic period, without expiring by a spasmodic distention\r\nof all the wings of the soul? A man who has thus, so to speak, put his\r\near to the heart-chamber of the cosmic will, who feels the furious\r\ndesire for existence issuing therefrom as a thundering stream or most\r\ngently dispersed brook, into all the veins of the world, would he not\r\ncollapse all at once? Could he endure, in the wretched fragile tenement\r\nof the human individual, to hear the re-echo of countless cries of\r\njoy and sorrow from the \"vast void of cosmic night,\" without flying\r\nirresistibly\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_162\"\u003e[Pg 162]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e towards his primitive home at the sound of this pastoral\r\ndance-song of metaphysics? But if, nevertheless, such a work can be\r\nheard as a whole, without a renunciation of individual existence, if\r\nsuch a creation could be created without demolishing its creator—where\r\nare we to get the solution of this contradiction?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere there interpose between our highest musical excitement and the\r\nmusic in question the tragic myth and the tragic hero—in reality only\r\nas symbols of the most universal facts, of which music alone can speak\r\ndirectly. If, however, we felt as purely Dionysian beings, myth as a\r\nsymbol would stand by us absolutely ineffective and unnoticed, and\r\nwould never for a moment prevent us from giving ear to the re-echo of\r\nthe \u003ci\u003euniversalia ante rem.\u003c/i\u003e Here, however, the \u003ci\u003eApollonian\u003c/i\u003e power, with\r\na view to the restoration of the well-nigh shattered individual, bursts\r\nforth with the healing balm of a blissful illusion: all of a sudden\r\nwe imagine we see only Tristan, motionless, with hushed voice saying\r\nto himself: \"the old tune, why does it wake me?\" And what formerly\r\ninterested us like a hollow sigh from the heart of being, seems now\r\nonly to tell us how \"waste and void is the sea.\" And when, breathless,\r\nwe thought to expire by a convulsive distention of all our feelings,\r\nand only a slender tie bound us to our present existence, we now hear\r\nand see only the hero wounded to death and still not dying, with his\r\ndespairing cry: \"Longing! Longing! In dying still longing! for longing\r\nnot dying!\" And if formerly, after such a surplus and superabundance of\r\nconsuming\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_163\"\u003e[Pg 163]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e agonies, the jubilation of the born rent our hearts almost\r\nlike the very acme of agony, the rejoicing Kurwenal now stands between\r\nus and the \"jubilation as such,\" with face turned toward the ship which\r\ncarries Isolde. However powerfully fellow-suffering encroaches upon us,\r\nit nevertheless delivers us in a manner from the primordial suffering\r\nof the world, just as the symbol-image of the myth delivers us from the\r\nimmediate perception of the highest cosmic idea, just as the thought\r\nand word deliver us from the unchecked effusion of the unconscious\r\nwill. The glorious Apollonian illusion makes it appear as if the very\r\nrealm of tones presented itself to us as a plastic cosmos, as if even\r\nthe fate of Tristan and Isolde had been merely formed and moulded\r\ntherein as out of some most delicate and impressible material.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus does the Apollonian wrest us from Dionysian universality and fill\r\nus with rapture for individuals; to these it rivets our sympathetic\r\nemotion, through these it satisfies the sense of beauty which longs for\r\ngreat and sublime forms; it brings before us biographical portraits,\r\nand incites us to a thoughtful apprehension of the essence of life\r\ncontained therein. With the immense potency of the image, the concept,\r\nthe ethical teaching and the sympathetic emotion—the Apollonian\r\ninfluence uplifts man from his orgiastic self-annihilation, and\r\nbeguiles him concerning the universality of the Dionysian process\r\ninto the belief that he is seeing a detached picture of the world,\r\nfor instance, Tristan and Isolde,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_164\"\u003e[Pg 164]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e and that, \u003ci\u003ethrough music,\u003c/i\u003e he will\r\nbe enabled to \u003ci\u003esee\u003c/i\u003e it still more clearly and intrinsically. What can\r\nthe healing magic of Apollo not accomplish when it can even excite in\r\nus the illusion that the Dionysian is actually in the service of the\r\nApollonian, the effects of which it is capable of enhancing; yea, that\r\nmusic is essentially the representative art for an Apollonian substance?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWith the pre-established harmony which obtains between perfect drama\r\nand its music, the drama attains the highest degree of conspicuousness,\r\nsuch as is usually unattainable in mere spoken drama. As all the\r\nanimated figures of the scene in the independently evolved lines\r\nof melody simplify themselves before us to the distinctness of the\r\ncatenary curve, the coexistence of these lines is also audible in the\r\nharmonic change which sympathises in a most delicate manner with the\r\nevolved process: through which change the relations of things become\r\nimmediately perceptible to us in a sensible and not at all abstract\r\nmanner, as we likewise perceive thereby that it is only in these\r\nrelations that the essence of a character and of a line of melody\r\nmanifests itself clearly. And while music thus compels us to see more\r\nextensively and more intrinsically than usual, and makes us spread out\r\nthe curtain of the scene before ourselves like some delicate texture,\r\nthe world of the stage is as infinitely expanded for our spiritualised,\r\nintrospective eye as it is illumined outwardly from within. How can\r\nthe word-poet furnish anything analogous, who strives to attain this\r\ninternal\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_165\"\u003e[Pg 165]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e expansion and illumination of the visible stage-world by a\r\nmuch more imperfect mechanism and an indirect path, proceeding as he\r\ndoes from word and concept? Albeit musical tragedy likewise avails\r\nitself of the word, it is at the same time able to place alongside\r\nthereof its basis and source, and can make the unfolding of the word,\r\nfrom within outwards, obvious to us.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOf the process just set forth, however, it could still be said\r\nas decidedly that it is only a glorious appearance, namely the\r\nafore-mentioned Apollonian \u003ci\u003eillusion,\u003c/i\u003e through the influence of which\r\nwe are to be delivered from the Dionysian obtrusion and excess.\r\nIn point of fact, the relation of music to drama is precisely the\r\nreverse; music is the adequate idea of the world, drama is but the\r\nreflex of this idea, a detached umbrage thereof. The identity between\r\nthe line of melody and the lining form, between the harmony and the\r\ncharacter-relations of this form, is true in a sense antithetical to\r\nwhat one would suppose on the contemplation of musical tragedy. We\r\nmay agitate and enliven the form in the most conspicuous manner, and\r\nenlighten it from within, but it still continues merely phenomenon,\r\nfrom which there is no bridge to lead us into the true reality, into\r\nthe heart of the world. Music, however, speaks out of this heart; and\r\nthough countless phenomena of the kind might be passing manifestations\r\nof this music, they could never exhaust its essence, but would always\r\nbe merely its externalised copies. Of course, as regards the intricate\r\nrelation of music and drama, nothing can be explained,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_166\"\u003e[Pg 166]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e while all may\r\nbe confused by the popular and thoroughly false antithesis of soul and\r\nbody; but the unphilosophical crudeness of this antithesis seems to\r\nhave become—who knows for what reasons—a readily accepted Article of\r\nFaith with our æstheticians, while they have learned nothing concerning\r\nan antithesis of phenomenon and thing-in-itself, or perhaps, for\r\nreasons equally unknown, have not cared to learn anything thereof.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eShould it have been established by our analysis that the Apollonian\r\nelement in tragedy has by means of its illusion gained a complete\r\nvictory over the Dionysian primordial element of music, and has made\r\nmusic itself subservient to its end, namely, the highest and clearest\r\nelucidation of the drama, it would certainly be necessary to add the\r\nvery important restriction: that at the most essential point this\r\nApollonian illusion is dissolved and annihilated. The drama, which, by\r\nthe aid of music, spreads out before us with such inwardly illumined\r\ndistinctness in all its movements and figures, that we imagine we\r\nsee the texture unfolding on the loom as the shuttle flies to and\r\nfro,—attains as a whole an effect which \u003ci\u003etranscends all Apollonian\r\nartistic effects.\u003c/i\u003e In the collective effect of tragedy, the Dionysian\r\ngets the upper hand once more; tragedy ends with a sound which could\r\nnever emanate from the realm of Apollonian art. And the Apollonian\r\nillusion is thereby found to be what it is,—the assiduous veiling\r\nduring the performance of tragedy of the intrinsically Dionysian\r\neffect: which, however, is so powerful, that it\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_167\"\u003e[Pg 167]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e finally forces\r\nthe Apollonian drama itself into a sphere where it begins to talk\r\nwith Dionysian wisdom, and even denies itself and its Apollonian\r\nconspicuousness. Thus then the intricate relation of the Apollonian and\r\nthe Dionysian in tragedy must really be symbolised by a fraternal union\r\nof the two deities: Dionysus speaks the language of Apollo; Apollo,\r\nhowever, finally speaks the language of Dionysus; and so the highest\r\ngoal of tragedy and of art in general is attained.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e22.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet the attentive friend picture to himself purely and simply,\r\naccording to his experiences, the effect of a true musical tragedy. I\r\nthink I have so portrayed the phenomenon of this effect in both its\r\nphases that he will now be able to interpret his own experiences. For\r\nhe will recollect that with regard to the myth which passed before\r\nhim he felt himself exalted to a kind of omniscience, as if his\r\nvisual faculty were no longer merely a surface faculty, but capable\r\nof penetrating into the interior, and as if he now saw before him,\r\nwith the aid of music, the ebullitions of the will, the conflict of\r\nmotives, and the swelling stream of the passions, almost sensibly\r\nvisible, like a plenitude of actively moving lines and figures, and\r\ncould thereby dip into the most tender secrets of unconscious emotions.\r\nWhile he thus becomes conscious of the highest exaltation of his\r\ninstincts for conspicuousness and transfiguration, he nevertheless\r\nfeels with equal\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_168\"\u003e[Pg 168]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e definitiveness that this long series of Apollonian\r\nartistic effects still does \u003ci\u003enot\u003c/i\u003e generate the blissful continuance in\r\nwill-less contemplation which the plasticist and the epic poet, that\r\nis to say, the strictly Apollonian artists, produce in him by their\r\nartistic productions: to wit, the justification of the world of the\r\n\u003ci\u003eindividuatio\u003c/i\u003e attained in this contemplation,—which is the object\r\nand essence of Apollonian art. He beholds the transfigured world of\r\nthe stage and nevertheless denies it. He sees before him the tragic\r\nhero in epic clearness and beauty, and nevertheless delights in his\r\nannihilation. He comprehends the incidents of the scene in all their\r\ndetails, and yet loves to flee into the incomprehensible. He feels the\r\nactions of the hero to be justified, and is nevertheless still more\r\nelated when these actions annihilate their originator. He shudders at\r\nthe sufferings which will befall the hero, and yet anticipates therein\r\na higher and much more overpowering joy. He sees more extensively and\r\nprofoundly than ever, and yet wishes to be blind. Whence must we derive\r\nthis curious internal dissension, this collapse of the Apollonian apex,\r\nif not from the \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e spell, which, though apparently stimulating\r\nthe Apollonian emotions to their highest pitch, can nevertheless force\r\nthis superabundance of Apollonian power into its service? \u003ci\u003eTragic\r\nmyth\u003c/i\u003e is to be understood only as a symbolisation of Dionysian wisdom\r\nby means of the expedients of Apollonian art: the mythus conducts the\r\nworld of phenomena to its boundaries, where it denies itself, and seeks\r\nto flee back again into the bosom of the true and only reality; where\r\nit then, like\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_169\"\u003e[Pg 169]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e Isolde, seems to strike up its metaphysical swan-song:—\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"margin-left: 10%;\"\u003e\r\nIn des Wonnemeeres\u003cbr\u003e\r\nwogendem Schwall,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nin der Duft-Wellen\u003cbr\u003e\r\ntönendem Schall,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nin des Weltathems\u003cbr\u003e\r\nwehendem All—\u003cbr\u003e\r\nertrinken—versinken\u003cbr\u003e\r\nunbewusst—höchste Lust!\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_24_27\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_24_27\"\u003e[24]\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe thus realise to ourselves in the experiences of the truly æsthetic\r\nhearer the tragic artist himself when he proceeds like a luxuriously\r\nfertile divinity of individuation to create his figures (in which sense\r\nhis work can hardly be understood as an \"imitation of nature\")—and\r\nwhen, on the other hand, his vast Dionysian impulse then absorbs the\r\nentire world of phenomena, in order to anticipate beyond it, and\r\nthrough its annihilation, the highest artistic primal joy, in the bosom\r\nof the Primordial Unity. Of course, our æsthetes have nothing to say\r\nabout this return in fraternal union of the two art-deities to the\r\noriginal home, nor of either the Apollonian or Dionysian excitement\r\nof the hearer,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_170\"\u003e[Pg 170]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e while they are indefatigable in characterising the\r\nstruggle of the hero with fate, the triumph of the moral order of the\r\nworld, or the disburdenment of the emotions through tragedy, as the\r\nproperly Tragic: an indefatigableness which makes me think that they\r\nare perhaps not æsthetically excitable men at all, but only to be\r\nregarded as moral beings when hearing tragedy. Never since Aristotle\r\nhas an explanation of the tragic effect been proposed, by which an\r\næsthetic activity of the hearer could be inferred from artistic\r\ncircumstances. At one time fear and pity are supposed to be forced to\r\nan alleviating discharge through the serious procedure, at another time\r\nwe are expected to feel elevated and inspired at the triumph of good\r\nand noble principles, at the sacrifice of the hero in the interest of\r\na moral conception of things; and however certainly I believe that for\r\ncountless men precisely this, and only this, is the effect of tragedy,\r\nit as obviously follows therefrom that all these, together with their\r\ninterpreting æsthetes, have had no experience of tragedy as the highest\r\n\u003ci\u003eart.\u003c/i\u003e The pathological discharge, the catharsis of Aristotle, which\r\nphilologists are at a loss whether to include under medicinal or moral\r\nphenomena, recalls a remarkable anticipation of Goethe. \"Without a\r\nlively pathological interest,\" he says, \"I too have never yet succeeded\r\nin elaborating a tragic situation of any kind, and hence I have rather\r\navoided than sought it. Can it perhaps have been still another of the\r\nmerits of the ancients that the deepest pathos was with them merely\r\næsthetic play, whereas with us the truth of nature must\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_171\"\u003e[Pg 171]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e co-operate in\r\norder to produce such a work?\" We can now answer in the affirmative\r\nthis latter profound question after our glorious experiences, in which\r\nwe have found to our astonishment in the case of musical tragedy\r\nitself, that the deepest pathos can in reality be merely æsthetic play:\r\nand therefore we are justified in believing that now for the first time\r\nthe proto-phenomenon of the tragic can be portrayed with some degree\r\nof success. He who now will still persist in talking only of those\r\nvicarious effects proceeding from ultra-æsthetic spheres, and does not\r\nfeel himself raised above the pathologically-moral process, may be left\r\nto despair of his æsthetic nature: for which we recommend to him, by\r\nway of innocent equivalent, the interpretation of Shakespeare after the\r\nfashion of Gervinus, and the diligent search for poetic justice.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThus with the re-birth of tragedy the \u003ci\u003eæsthetic hearer\u003c/i\u003e is also\r\nborn anew, in whose place in the theatre a curious \u003ci\u003equid pro quo\u003c/i\u003e\r\nwas wont to sit with half-moral and half-learned pretensions,—the\r\n\"critic.\" In his sphere hitherto everything has been artificial and\r\nmerely glossed over with a semblance of life. The performing artist\r\nwas in fact at a loss what to do with such a critically comporting\r\nhearer, and hence he, as well as the dramatist or operatic composer\r\nwho inspired him, searched anxiously for the last remains of life\r\nin a being so pretentiously barren and incapable of enjoyment. Such\r\n\"critics,\" however, have hitherto constituted the public; the student,\r\nthe school-boy, yea, even the most harmless womanly creature,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_172\"\u003e[Pg 172]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e were\r\nalready unwittingly prepared by education and by journals for a similar\r\nperception of works of art. The nobler natures among the artists\r\ncounted upon exciting the moral-religious forces in such a public,\r\nand the appeal to a moral order of the world operated vicariously,\r\nwhen in reality some powerful artistic spell should have enraptured\r\nthe true hearer. Or again, some imposing or at all events exciting\r\ntendency of the contemporary political and social world was presented\r\nby the dramatist with such vividness that the hearer could forget his\r\ncritical exhaustion and abandon himself to similar emotions, as, in\r\npatriotic or warlike moments, before the tribune of parliament, or\r\nat the condemnation of crime and vice:—an estrangement of the true\r\naims of art which could not but lead directly now and then to a cult\r\nof tendency. But here there took place what has always taken place\r\nin the case of factitious arts, an extraordinary rapid depravation\r\nof these tendencies, so that for instance the tendency to employ the\r\ntheatre as a means for the moral education of the people, which in\r\nSchiller\u0027s time was taken seriously, is already reckoned among the\r\nincredible antiquities of a surmounted culture. While the critic got\r\nthe upper hand in the theatre and concert-hall, the journalist in the\r\nschool, and the press in society, art degenerated into a topic of\r\nconversation of the most trivial kind, and æsthetic criticism was used\r\nas the cement of a vain, distracted, selfish and moreover piteously\r\nunoriginal sociality, the significance of which is suggested by the\r\nSchopenhauerian parable of the porcupines, so that there\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_173\"\u003e[Pg 173]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e has never\r\nbeen so much gossip about art and so little esteem for it. But is it\r\nstill possible to have intercourse with a man capable of conversing on\r\nBeethoven or Shakespeare? Let each answer this question according to\r\nhis sentiments: he will at any rate show by his answer his conception\r\nof \"culture,\" provided he tries at least to answer the question, and\r\nhas not already grown mute with astonishment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOn the other hand, many a one more nobly and delicately endowed by\r\nnature, though he may have gradually become a critical barbarian\r\nin the manner described, could tell of the unexpected as well as\r\ntotally unintelligible effect which a successful performance of\r\n\u003ci\u003eLohengrin,\u003c/i\u003e for example, exerted on him: except that perhaps every\r\nwarning and interpreting hand was lacking to guide him; so that the\r\nincomprehensibly heterogeneous and altogether incomparable sensation\r\nwhich then affected him also remained isolated and became extinct, like\r\na mysterious star after a brief brilliancy. He then divined what the\r\næsthetic hearer is.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_24_27\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_24_27\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[24]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn the sea of pleasure\u0027s\u003cbr\u003e\r\nBillowing roll,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn the ether-waves\u003cbr\u003e\r\nKnelling and toll,\u003cbr\u003e\r\nIn the world-breath\u0027s\u003cbr\u003e\r\nWavering whole—\u003cbr\u003e\r\nTo drown in, go down in—\u003cbr\u003e\r\nLost in swoon—greatest boon!\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e23.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHe who wishes to test himself rigorously as to how he is related to the\r\ntrue æsthetic hearer, or whether he belongs rather to the community\r\nof the Socrato-critical man, has only to enquire sincerely concerning\r\nthe sentiment with which he accepts the \u003ci\u003ewonder\u003c/i\u003e represented on the\r\nstage: whether he feels his historical sense, which insists on strict\r\npsychological causality, insulted by it,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_174\"\u003e[Pg 174]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e whether with benevolent\r\nconcession he as it were admits the wonder as a phenomenon intelligible\r\nto childhood, but relinquished by him, or whether he experiences\r\nanything else thereby. For he will thus be enabled to determine how\r\nfar he is on the whole capable of understanding \u003ci\u003emyth,\u003c/i\u003e that is to\r\nsay, the concentrated picture of the world, which, as abbreviature of\r\nphenomena, cannot dispense with wonder. It is probable, however, that\r\nnearly every one, upon close examination, feels so disintegrated by\r\nthe critico-historical spirit of our culture, that he can only perhaps\r\nmake the former existence of myth credible to himself by learned\r\nmeans through intermediary abstractions. Without myth, however, every\r\nculture loses its healthy, creative natural power: it is only a horizon\r\nencompassed with myths which rounds off to unity a social movement.\r\nIt is only by myth that all the powers of the imagination and of the\r\nApollonian dream are freed from their random rovings. The mythical\r\nfigures have to be the invisibly omnipresent genii, under the care of\r\nwhich the young soul grows to maturity, by the signs of which the man\r\ngives a meaning to his life and struggles: and the state itself knows\r\nno more powerful unwritten law than the mythical foundation which\r\nvouches for its connection with religion and its growth from mythical\r\nideas.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eLet us now place alongside thereof the abstract man proceeding\r\nindependently of myth, the abstract education, the abstract usage,\r\nthe abstract right, the abstract state: let us picture to ourselves\r\nthe lawless roving of the artistic imagination,\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_175\"\u003e[Pg 175]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e not bridled by any\r\nnative myth: let us imagine a culture which has no fixed and sacred\r\nprimitive seat, but is doomed to exhaust all its possibilities, and\r\nhas to nourish itself wretchedly from the other cultures—such is the\r\nPresent, as the result of Socratism, which is bent on the destruction\r\nof myth. And now the myth-less man remains eternally hungering among\r\nall the bygones, and digs and grubs for roots, though he have to dig\r\nfor them even among the remotest antiquities. The stupendous historical\r\nexigency of the unsatisfied modern culture, the gathering around one of\r\ncountless other cultures, the consuming desire for knowledge—what does\r\nall this point to, if not to the loss of myth, the loss of the mythical\r\nhome, the mythical source? Let us ask ourselves whether the feverish\r\nand so uncanny stirring of this culture is aught but the eager seizing\r\nand snatching at food of the hungerer—and who would care to contribute\r\nanything more to a culture which cannot be appeased by all it devours,\r\nand in contact with which the most vigorous and wholesome nourishment\r\nis wont to change into \"history and criticism\"?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe should also have to regard our German character with despair and\r\nsorrow, if it had already become inextricably entangled in, or even\r\nidentical with this culture, in a similar manner as we can observe it\r\nto our horror to be the case in civilised France; and that which for\r\na long time was the great advantage of France and the cause of her\r\nvast preponderance, to wit, this very identity of people and culture,\r\nmight compel us at the sight thereof\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_176\"\u003e[Pg 176]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e to congratulate ourselves that\r\nthis culture of ours, which is so questionable, has hitherto had\r\nnothing in common with the noble kernel of the character of our people.\r\nAll our hopes, on the contrary, stretch out longingly towards the\r\nperception that beneath this restlessly palpitating civilised life and\r\neducational convulsion there is concealed a glorious, intrinsically\r\nhealthy, primeval power, which, to be sure, stirs vigorously only at\r\nintervals in stupendous moments, and then dreams on again in view of\r\na future awakening. It is from this abyss that the German Reformation\r\ncame forth: in the choral-hymn of which the future melody of German\r\nmusic first resounded. So deep, courageous, and soul-breathing, so\r\nexuberantly good and tender did this chorale of Luther sound,—as the\r\nfirst Dionysian-luring call which breaks forth from dense thickets\r\nat the approach of spring. To it responded with emulative echo the\r\nsolemnly wanton procession of Dionysian revellers, to whom we are\r\nindebted for German music—and to whom we shall be indebted for \u003ci\u003ethe\r\nre-birth of German myth.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eI know that I must now lead the sympathising and attentive friend to\r\nan elevated position of lonesome contemplation, where he will have\r\nbut few companions, and I call out encouragingly to him that we must\r\nhold fast to our shining guides, the Greeks. For the rectification\r\nof our æsthetic knowledge we previously borrowed from them the two\r\ndivine figures, each of which sways a separate realm of art, and\r\nconcerning whose mutual contact and exaltation we have acquired\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_177\"\u003e[Pg 177]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e a\r\nnotion through Greek tragedy. Through a remarkable disruption of both\r\nthese primitive artistic impulses, the ruin of Greek tragedy seemed\r\nto be necessarily brought about: with which process a degeneration\r\nand a transmutation of the Greek national character was strictly in\r\nkeeping, summoning us to earnest reflection as to how closely and\r\nnecessarily art and the people, myth and custom, tragedy and the state,\r\nhave coalesced in their bases. The ruin of tragedy was at the same\r\ntime the ruin of myth. Until then the Greeks had been involuntarily\r\ncompelled immediately to associate all experiences with their myths,\r\nindeed they had to comprehend them only through this association:\r\nwhereby even the most immediate present necessarily appeared to them\r\n\u003ci\u003esub specie æterni\u003c/i\u003e and in a certain sense as timeless. Into this\r\ncurrent of the timeless, however, the state as well as art plunged\r\nin order to find repose from the burden and eagerness of the moment.\r\nAnd a people—for the rest, also a man—is worth just as much only as\r\nits ability to impress on its experiences the seal of eternity: for\r\nit is thus, as it were, desecularised, and reveals its unconscious\r\ninner conviction of the relativity of time and of the true, that is,\r\nthe metaphysical significance of life. The contrary happens when a\r\npeople begins to comprehend itself historically and to demolish the\r\nmythical bulwarks around it: with which there is usually connected\r\na marked secularisation, a breach with the unconscious metaphysics\r\nof its earlier existence, in all ethical consequences. Greek art and\r\nespecially Greek tragedy delayed\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_178\"\u003e[Pg 178]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e above all the annihilation of myth:\r\nit was necessary to annihilate these also to be able to live detached\r\nfrom the native soil, unbridled in the wilderness of thought, custom,\r\nand action. Even in such circumstances this metaphysical impulse still\r\nendeavours to create for itself a form of apotheosis (weakened, no\r\ndoubt) in the Socratism of science urging to life: but on its lower\r\nstage this same impulse led only to a feverish search, which gradually\r\nmerged into a pandemonium of myths and superstitions accumulated from\r\nall quarters: in the midst of which, nevertheless, the Hellene sat with\r\na yearning heart till he contrived, as Græculus, to mask his fever with\r\nGreek cheerfulness and Greek levity, or to narcotise himself completely\r\nwith some gloomy Oriental superstition.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWe have approached this condition in the most striking manner since the\r\nreawakening of the Alexandro—Roman antiquity in the fifteenth century,\r\nafter a long, not easily describable, interlude. On the heights there\r\nis the same exuberant love of knowledge, the same insatiate happiness\r\nof the discoverer, the same stupendous secularisation, and, together\r\nwith these, a homeless roving about, an eager intrusion at foreign\r\ntables, a frivolous deification of the present or a dull senseless\r\nestrangement, all \u003ci\u003esub speci sæculi,\u003c/i\u003e of the present time: which\r\nsame symptoms lead one to infer the same defect at the heart of\r\nthis culture, the annihilation of myth. It seems hardly possible to\r\ntransplant a foreign myth with permanent success, without dreadfully\r\ninjuring the tree through this transplantation: which is perhaps\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_179\"\u003e[Pg 179]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\noccasionally strong enough and sound enough to eliminate the foreign\r\nelement after a terrible struggle; but must ordinarily consume itself\r\nin a languishing and stunted condition or in sickly luxuriance. Our\r\nopinion of the pure and vigorous kernel of the German being is such\r\nthat we venture to expect of it, and only of it, this elimination of\r\nforcibly ingrafted foreign elements, and we deem it possible that\r\nthe German spirit will reflect anew on itself. Perhaps many a one\r\nwill be of opinion that this spirit must begin its struggle with the\r\nelimination of the Romanic element: for which it might recognise an\r\nexternal preparation and encouragement in the victorious bravery and\r\nbloody glory of the late war, but must seek the inner constraint in the\r\nemulative zeal to be for ever worthy of the sublime protagonists on\r\nthis path, of Luther as well as our great artists and poets. But let\r\nhim never think he can fight such battles without his household gods,\r\nwithout his mythical home, without a \"restoration\" of all German things\r\nI And if the German should look timidly around for a guide to lead\r\nhim back to his long-lost home, the ways and paths of which he knows\r\nno longer—let him but listen to the delightfully luring call of the\r\nDionysian bird, which hovers above him, and would fain point out to him\r\nthe way thither.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e24.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAmong the peculiar artistic effects of musical tragedy we had to\r\nemphasise an Apollonian \u003ci\u003eillusion,\u003c/i\u003e through which we are to be saved\r\nfrom\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_180\"\u003e[Pg 180]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e immediate oneness with the Dionysian music, while our musical\r\nexcitement is able to discharge itself on an Apollonian domain and\r\nin an interposed visible middle world. It thereby seemed to us that\r\nprecisely through this discharge the middle world of theatrical\r\nprocedure, the drama generally, became visible and intelligible from\r\nwithin in a degree unattainable in the other forms of Apollonian art:\r\nso that here, where this art was as it were winged and borne aloft by\r\nthe spirit of music, we had to recognise the highest exaltation of its\r\npowers, and consequently in the fraternal union of Apollo and Dionysus\r\nthe climax of the Apollonian as well as of the Dionysian artistic aims.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eOf course, the Apollonian light-picture did not, precisely with this\r\ninner illumination through music, attain the peculiar effect of the\r\nweaker grades of Apollonian art. What the epos and the animated stone\r\ncan do—constrain the contemplating eye to calm delight in the world\r\nof the \u003ci\u003eindividuatio\u003c/i\u003e—could not be realised here, notwithstanding\r\nthe greater animation and distinctness. We contemplated the drama\r\nand penetrated with piercing glance into its inner agitated world of\r\nmotives—and yet it seemed as if only a symbolic picture passed before\r\nus, the profoundest significance of which we almost believed we had\r\ndivined, and which we desired to put aside like a curtain in order to\r\nbehold the original behind it. The greatest distinctness of the picture\r\ndid not suffice us: for it seemed to reveal as well as veil something;\r\nand while it seemed, with its symbolic\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_181\"\u003e[Pg 181]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e revelation, to invite the\r\nrending of the veil for the disclosure of the mysterious background,\r\nthis illumined all-conspicuousness itself enthralled the eye and\r\nprevented it from penetrating more deeply He who has not experienced\r\nthis,—to have to view, and at the same time to have a longing\r\nbeyond the viewing,—will hardly be able to conceive how clearly and\r\ndefinitely these two processes coexist in the contemplation of tragic\r\nmyth and are felt to be conjoined; while the truly æsthetic spectators\r\nwill confirm my assertion that among the peculiar effects of tragedy\r\nthis conjunction is the most noteworthy. Now let this phenomenon of the\r\næsthetic spectator be transferred to an analogous process in the tragic\r\nartist, and the genesis of \u003ci\u003etragic myth\u003c/i\u003e will have been understood. It\r\nshares with the Apollonian sphere of art the full delight in appearance\r\nand contemplation, and at the same time it denies this delight and\r\nfinds a still higher satisfaction in the annihilation of the visible\r\nworld of appearance. The substance of tragic myth is first of all an\r\nepic event involving the glorification of the fighting hero: but whence\r\noriginates the essentially enigmatical trait, that the suffering in\r\nthe fate of the hero, the most painful victories, the most agonising\r\ncontrasts of motives, in short, the exemplification of the wisdom of\r\nSilenus, or, æsthetically expressed, the Ugly and Discordant, is always\r\nrepresented anew in such countless forms with such predilection, and\r\nprecisely in the most youthful and exuberant age of a people, unless\r\nthere is really a higher delight experienced in all this?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_182\"\u003e[Pg 182]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFor the fact that things actually take such a tragic course would\r\nleast of all explain the origin of a form of art; provided that art\r\nis not merely an imitation of the reality of nature, but in truth a\r\nmetaphysical supplement to the reality of nature, placed alongside\r\nthereof for its conquest. Tragic myth, in so far as it really belongs\r\nto art, also fully participates in this transfiguring metaphysical\r\npurpose of art in general: What does it transfigure, however, when it\r\npresents the phenomenal world in the guise of the suffering hero? Least\r\nof all the \"reality\" of this phenomenal world, for it says to us: \"Look\r\nat this! Look carefully! It is your life! It is the hour-hand of your\r\nclock of existence!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAnd myth has displayed this life, in order thereby to transfigure it\r\nto us? If not, how shall we account for the æsthetic pleasure with\r\nwhich we make even these representations pass before us? I am inquiring\r\nconcerning the æsthetic pleasure, and am well aware that many of\r\nthese representations may moreover occasionally create even a moral\r\ndelectation, say under the form of pity or of a moral triumph. But he\r\nwho would derive the effect of the tragic exclusively from these moral\r\nsources, as was usually the case far too long in æsthetics, let him not\r\nthink that he has done anything for Art thereby; for Art must above all\r\ninsist on purity in her domain. For the explanation of tragic myth the\r\nvery first requirement is that the pleasure which characterises it must\r\nbe sought in the purely æsthetic sphere, without encroaching on the\r\ndomain of pity, fear, or the morally-sublime.\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_183\"\u003e[Pg 183]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e How can the ugly and the\r\ndiscordant, the substance of tragic myth, excite an æsthetic pleasure?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHere it is necessary to raise ourselves with a daring bound into a\r\nmetaphysics of Art. I repeat, therefore, my former proposition, that\r\nit is only as an æsthetic phenomenon that existence and the world,\r\nappear justified: and in this sense it is precisely the function of\r\ntragic myth to convince us that even the Ugly and Discordant is an\r\nartistic game which the will, in the eternal fulness of its joy, plays\r\nwith itself. But this not easily comprehensible proto-phenomenon of\r\nDionysian Art becomes, in a direct way, singularly intelligible, and\r\nis immediately apprehended in the wonderful significance of \u003ci\u003emusical\r\ndissonance:\u003c/i\u003e just as in general it is music alone, placed in contrast\r\nto the world, which can give us an idea as to what is meant by the\r\njustification of the world as an æsthetic phenomenon. The joy that the\r\ntragic myth excites has the same origin as the joyful sensation of\r\ndissonance in music. The Dionysian, with its primitive joy experienced\r\nin pain itself, is the common source of music and tragic myth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eIs it not possible that by calling to our aid the musical relation of\r\ndissonance, the difficult problem of tragic effect may have meanwhile\r\nbeen materially facilitated? For we now understand what it means to\r\nwish to view tragedy and at the same time to have a longing beyond the\r\nviewing: a frame of mind, which, as regards the artistically employed\r\ndissonance, we should simply have to characterise by saying that we\r\ndesire to hear and at the same time have a longing beyond the hearing.\r\nThat striving\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_184\"\u003e[Pg 184]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e for the infinite, the pinion-flapping of longing,\r\naccompanying the highest delight in the clearly-perceived reality,\r\nremind one that in both states we have to recognise a Dionysian\r\nphenomenon, which again and again reveals to us anew the playful\r\nup-building and demolishing of the world of individuals as the efflux\r\nof a primitive delight, in like manner as when Heraclitus the Obscure\r\ncompares the world-building power to a playing child which places\r\nstones here and there and builds sandhills only to overthrow them again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eHence, in order to form a true estimate of the Dionysian capacity of\r\na people, it would seem that we must think not only of their music,\r\nbut just as much of their tragic myth, the second witness of this\r\ncapacity. Considering this most intimate relationship between music\r\nand myth, we may now in like manner suppose that a degeneration and\r\ndepravation of the one involves a deterioration of the other: if it be\r\ntrue at all that the weakening of the myth is generally expressive of\r\na debilitation of the Dionysian capacity. Concerning both, however,\r\na glance at the development of the German genius should not leave\r\nus in any doubt; in the opera just as in the abstract character of\r\nour myth-less existence, in an art sunk to pastime just as in a life\r\nguided by concepts, the inartistic as well as life-consuming nature\r\nof Socratic optimism had revealed itself to us. Yet there have been\r\nindications to console us that nevertheless in some inaccessible abyss\r\nthe German spirit still rests and dreams, undestroyed, in glorious\r\nhealth, profundity, and Dionysian strength, like a knight sunk in\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_185\"\u003e[Pg 185]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nslumber: from which abyss the Dionysian song rises to us to let us\r\nknow that this German knight even still dreams his primitive Dionysian\r\nmyth in blissfully earnest visions. Let no one believe that the German\r\nspirit has for ever lost its mythical home when it still understands so\r\nobviously the voices of the birds which tell of that home. Some day it\r\nwill find itself awake in all the morning freshness of a deep sleep:\r\nthen it will slay the dragons, destroy the malignant dwarfs, and waken\r\nBrünnhilde—and Wotan\u0027s spear itself will be unable to obstruct its\r\ncourse!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eMy friends, ye who believe in Dionysian music, ye know also what\r\ntragedy means to us. There we have tragic myth, born anew from\r\nmusic,—and in this latest birth ye can hope for everything and forget\r\nwhat is most afflicting. What is most afflicting to all of us, however,\r\nis—the prolonged degradation in which the German genius has lived\r\nestranged from house and home in the service of malignant dwarfs. Ye\r\nunderstand my allusion—as ye will also, in conclusion, understand my\r\nhopes.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e25.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eMusic and tragic myth are equally the expression of the Dionysian\r\ncapacity of a people, and are inseparable from each other. Both\r\noriginate in an ultra Apollonian sphere of art; both transfigure a\r\nregion in the delightful accords of which all dissonance, just like\r\nthe terrible picture of the world, dies charmingly away; both play\r\nwith the sting of displeasure, trusting to their most potent magic;\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_186\"\u003e[Pg 186]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nboth justify thereby the existence even of the \"worst world.\" Here\r\nthe Dionysian, as compared with the Apollonian, exhibits itself as\r\nthe eternal and original artistic force, which in general calls into\r\nexistence the entire world of phenomena: in the midst of which a new\r\ntransfiguring appearance becomes necessary, in order to keep alive the\r\nanimated world of individuation. If we could conceive an incarnation\r\nof dissonance—and what is man but that?—then, to be able to live\r\nthis dissonance would require a glorious illusion which would spread\r\na veil of beauty over its peculiar nature. This is the true function\r\nof Apollo as deity of art: in whose name we comprise all the countless\r\nmanifestations of the fair realm of illusion, which each moment render\r\nlife in general worth living and make one impatient for the experience\r\nof the next moment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eAt the same time, just as much of this basis of all existence—the\r\nDionysian substratum of the world—is allowed to enter into the\r\nconsciousness of human beings, as can be surmounted again by the\r\nApollonian transfiguring power, so that these two art-impulses are\r\nconstrained to develop their powers in strictly mutual proportion,\r\naccording to the law of eternal justice. When the Dionysian powers rise\r\nwith such vehemence as we exp\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/span\u003eerience at present, there can be no doubt\r\nthat, veiled in a cloud, Apollo has already descended to us; whose\r\ngrandest beautifying influences a coming generation will perhaps behold.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eThat this effect is necessary, however, each one would most surely\r\nperceive by intuition, if once he found himself carried back—even in\r\na dream—into\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_187\"\u003e[Pg 187]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e an Old-Hellenic existence. In walking under high Ionic\r\ncolonnades, looking upwards to a horizon defined by clear and noble\r\nlines, with reflections of his transfigured form by his side in shining\r\nmarble, and around him solemnly marching or quietly moving men, with\r\nharmoniously sounding voices and rhythmical pantomime, would he not in\r\nthe presence of this perpetual influx of beauty have to raise his hand\r\nto Apollo and exclaim: \"Blessed race of Hellenes! How great Dionysus\r\nmust be among you, when the Delian god deems such charms necessary\r\nto cure you of your dithyrambic madness!\"—To one in this frame of\r\nmind, however, an aged Athenian, looking up to him with the sublime\r\neye of Æschylus, might answer: \"Say also this, thou curious stranger:\r\nwhat sufferings this people must have undergone, in order to be able\r\nto become thus beautiful! But now follow me to a tragic play, and\r\nsacrifice with me in the temple of both the deities!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"chap\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_189\"\u003e[Pg 189]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eAPPENDIX.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e[Late in the year 1888, not long before he was overcome by his sudden\r\nattack of insanity, Nietzsche wrote down a few notes concerning\r\nhis early work, the \u003ci\u003eBirth of Tragedy.\u003c/i\u003e These were printed in his\r\nsister\u0027s biography (\u003ci\u003eDas Leben Friedrich Nietzsches,\u003c/i\u003e vol. ii. pt.\r\ni. pp. 102 ff.), and are here translated as likely to be of interest\r\nto readers of this remarkable work. They also appear in the \u003ci\u003eEcce\r\nHomo.\u003c/i\u003e—\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 0.8em;\"\u003eTRANSLATOR\u0027S NOTE\u003c/span\u003e.]\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"To be just to the \u003ci\u003eBirth of Tragedy\u003c/i\u003e(1872), one will have to forget\r\nsome few things. It has \u003ci\u003ewrought effects,\u003c/i\u003e it even fascinated through\r\nthat wherein it was amiss—through its application to \u003ci\u003eWagnerism,\u003c/i\u003e\r\njust as if this Wagnerism were symptomatic of \u003ci\u003ea rise and going up.\u003c/i\u003e\r\nAnd just on that account was the book an event in Wagner\u0027s life: from\r\nthence and only from thence were great hopes linked to the name of\r\nWagner. Even to-day people remind me, sometimes right in the midst of\r\na talk on \u003ci\u003eParsifal,\u003c/i\u003e that \u003ci\u003eI\u003c/i\u003e and none other have it on my conscience\r\nthat such a high opinion of the \u003ci\u003ecultural value\u003c/i\u003e of this movement came\r\nto the top. More than once have I found the book referred to as \u0027the\r\n\u003ci\u003eRe\u003c/i\u003e-birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music\u0027: one only had an ear\r\nfor a new formula of \u003ci\u003eWagner\u0027s\u003c/i\u003e art, aim, task,—and failed to hear\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_190\"\u003e[Pg 190]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\nwithal what was at bottom valuable therein. \u0027Hellenism and Pessimism\u0027\r\nhad been a more unequivocal title: namely, as a first lesson on the\r\nway in which the Greeks got the better of pessimism,—on the means\r\nwhereby they \u003ci\u003eovercame\u003c/i\u003e it. Tragedy simply proves that the Greeks were\r\n\u003ci\u003eno\u003c/i\u003e pessimists: Schopenhauer was mistaken here as he was mistaken\r\nin all other things. Considered with some neutrality, the \u003ci\u003eBirth of\r\nTragedy\u003c/i\u003e appears very unseasonable: one would not even dream that\r\nit was \u003ci\u003ebegun\u003c/i\u003e amid the thunders of the battle of Wörth. I thought\r\nthese problems through and through before the walls of Metz in cold\r\nSeptember nights, in the midst of the work of nursing the sick; one\r\nmight even believe the book to be fifty years older. It is politically\r\nindifferent—un-German one will say to-day,—it smells shockingly\r\nHegelian, in but a few formulæ does it scent of Schopenhauer\u0027s\r\nfunereal perfume. An \u0027idea\u0027—the antithesis of \u0027Dionysian \u003ci\u003eversus\u003c/i\u003e\r\nApollonian\u0027—translated into metaphysics; history itself as the\r\nevolution of this \u0027idea\u0027; the antithesis dissolved into oneness\r\nin Tragedy; through this optics things that had never yet looked\r\ninto one another\u0027s face, confronted of a sudden, and illumined and\r\n\u003ci\u003ecomprehended\u003c/i\u003e through one another: for instance, Opera and Revolution.\r\nThe two decisive \u003ci\u003einnovations\u003c/i\u003e of the book are, on the one hand, the\r\ncomprehension of the \u003ci\u003eDionysian\u003c/i\u003e phenomenon among the Greeks (it gives\r\nthe first psychology thereof, it sees therein the One root of all\r\nGrecian art); on the other, the comprehension of Socratism: Socrates\r\ndiagnosed for the first time as the tool\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_191\"\u003e[Pg 191]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e of Grecian dissolution, as\r\na typical decadent. \u0027Rationality\u0027 \u003ci\u003eagainst\u003c/i\u003e instinct! \u0027Rationality\u0027\r\nat any price as a dangerous, as a life-undermining force! Throughout\r\nthe whole book a deep hostile silence on Christianity: it is neither\r\nApollonian nor Dionysian; it \u003ci\u003enegatives\u003c/i\u003e all \u003ci\u003eæsthetic\u003c/i\u003e values (the\r\nonly values recognised by the \u003ci\u003eBirth of Tragedy),\u003c/i\u003e it is in the widest\r\nsense nihilistic, whereas in the Dionysian symbol the utmost limit\r\nof \u003ci\u003eaffirmation\u003c/i\u003e is reached. Once or twice the Christian priests are\r\nalluded to as a \u0027malignant kind of dwarfs,\u0027 as \u0027subterraneans.\u0027\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e2.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"This beginning is singular beyond measure. I had for my own inmost\r\nexperience \u003ci\u003ediscovered\u003c/i\u003e the only symbol and counterpart of history,—I\r\nhad just thereby been the first to grasp the wonderful phenomenon\r\nof the Dionysian. And again, through my diagnosing Socrates as a\r\ndecadent, I had given a wholly unequivocal proof of how little risk\r\nthe trustworthiness of my psychological grasp would run of being\r\nweakened by some moralistic idiosyncrasy—to view morality itself as a\r\nsymptom of decadence is an innovation, a novelty of the first rank in\r\nthe history of knowledge. How far I had leaped in either case beyond\r\nthe smug shallow-pate-gossip of optimism \u003ci\u003econtra\u003c/i\u003e pessimism! I was\r\nthe first to see the intrinsic antithesis: here, the \u003ci\u003edegenerating\u003c/i\u003e\r\ninstinct which, with subterranean vindictiveness, turns against life\r\n(Christianity, the philosophy of Schopenhauer, in a certain sense\r\nalready the philosophy of Plato, all idealistic\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_192\"\u003e[Pg 192]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e systems as typical\r\nforms), and there, a formula of \u003ci\u003ehighest affirmation,\u003c/i\u003e born of fullness\r\nand overfullness, a yea-saying without reserve to suffering\u0027s self,\r\nto guilt\u0027s self, to all that is questionable and strange in existence\r\nitself. This final, cheerfullest, exuberantly mad-and-merriest Yea to\r\nlife is not only the highest insight, it is also the \u003ci\u003edeepest,\u003c/i\u003e it\r\nis that which is most rigorously confirmed and upheld by truth and\r\nscience. Naught that is, is to be deducted, naught is dispensable; the\r\nphases of existence rejected by the Christians and other nihilists are\r\neven of an infinitely higher order in the hierarchy of values than\r\nthat which the instinct of decadence sanctions, yea durst \u003ci\u003esanction.\u003c/i\u003e\r\nTo comprehend this \u003ci\u003ecourage\u003c/i\u003e is needed, and, as a condition thereof, a\r\nsurplus of \u003ci\u003estrength\u003c/i\u003e: for precisely in degree as courage \u003ci\u003edares\u003c/i\u003e to\r\nthrust forward, precisely according to the measure of strength, does\r\none approach truth. Perception, the yea-saying to reality, is as much\r\na necessity to the strong as to the weak, under the inspiration of\r\nweakness, cowardly shrinking, and \u003ci\u003eflight\u003c/i\u003e from reality—the \u0027ideal.\u0027\r\n… They are not free to perceive: the decadents have \u003ci\u003eneed\u003c/i\u003e of the\r\nlie,—it is one of their conditions of self-preservation. Whoso not\r\nonly comprehends the word Dionysian, but also grasps his \u003ci\u003eself\u003c/i\u003e in\r\nthis word, requires no refutation of Plato or of Christianity or of\r\nSchopenhauer—\u003ci\u003ehe smells the putrefaction.\u003c/i\u003e\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003e3.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"To what extent I had just thereby found the concept \u0027tragic,\u0027 the\r\ndefinitive perception of the \u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_193\"\u003e[Pg 193]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\r\npsychology of tragedy, I have but lately stated in the \u003ci\u003eTwilight of the\r\nIdols,\u003c/i\u003e page 139 (1st edit.): \u0027The affirmation of life, even in its\r\nmost unfamiliar and severe problems, the will to life, enjoying its\r\nown inexhaustibility in the sacrifice of its highest types,—\u003ci\u003ethat\u003c/i\u003e\r\nis what I called Dionysian, that is what I divined as the bridge to a\r\npsychology of the \u003ci\u003etragic\u003c/i\u003e poet. Not in order to get rid of terror and\r\npity, not to purify from a dangerous passion by its vehement discharge\r\n(it was thus that Aristotle misunderstood it); but, beyond terror\r\nand pity, \u003ci\u003eto realise in fact\u003c/i\u003e the eternal delight of becoming, that\r\ndelight which even involves in itself the \u003ci\u003ejoy of annihilating!\u003c/i\u003e\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_1_28\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_1_28\"\u003e[1]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nIn this sense I have the right to understand myself to be the first\r\n\u003ci\u003etragic philosopher\u003c/i\u003e—that is, the utmost antithesis and antipode to a\r\npessimistic philosopher. Prior to myself there is no such translation\r\nof the Dionysian into the philosophic pathos: there lacks the \u003ci\u003etragic\r\nwisdom,\u003c/i\u003e—I have sought in vain for an indication thereof even among\r\nthe \u003ci\u003egreat\u003c/i\u003e Greeks of philosophy, the thinkers of the two centuries\r\n\u003ci\u003ebefore\u003c/i\u003e Socrates. A doubt still possessed me as touching \u003ci\u003eHeraclitus,\u003c/i\u003e\r\nin whose proximity I in general begin to feel warmer and better than\r\nanywhere else. The affirmation of transiency \u003ci\u003eand annihilation,\u003c/i\u003e to\r\nwit the decisive factor in a Dionysian \u003ci\u003ephilosophy,\u003c/i\u003e the yea-saying\r\nto antithesis and war, to \u003ci\u003ebecoming,\u003c/i\u003e with radical rejection even of\r\nthe concept \u0027\u003ci\u003ebeing,\u003c/i\u003e\u0027—that I must directly acknowledge as, of all\r\nthinking hitherto, the nearest to my own. The doctrine of\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_194\"\u003e[Pg 194]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e \u0027eternal\r\nrecurrence,\u0027 that is, of the unconditioned and infinitely repeated\r\ncycle of all things—this doctrine of Zarathustra\u0027s \u003ci\u003emight\u003c/i\u003e after all\r\nhave been already taught by Heraclitus. At any rate the portico\u003ca id=\"FNanchor_2_29\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca class=\"fnanchor pginternal\" href=\"#Footnote_2_29\"\u003e[2]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nwhich inherited well-nigh all its fundamental conceptions from\r\nHeraclitus, shows traces thereof.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"figcenter\" style=\"width: 500px;\"\u003e\r\n\u003cimg alt=\"\" src=\"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/gutenberg-the-birth-of-tragedy-trag-facs.jpg\" width=\"500\" id=\"img_images_trag_facs.jpg\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"font-weight: bold; font-size: 0.8em; text-align: center;\"\u003e\u003ci\u003eFacsimile of Nietzsches handwriting.\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4 class=\"p2\"\u003e4.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\"In this book speaks a prodigious hope. In fine, I see no reason\r\nwhatever for taking back my hope of a Dionysian future for music. Let\r\nus cast a glance a century ahead, let us suppose my assault upon two\r\nmillenniums of anti-nature and man-vilification succeeds! That new\r\nparty of life which will take in hand the greatest of all tasks, the\r\nupbreeding of mankind to something higher,—add thereto the relentless\r\nannihilation of all things degenerating and parasitic, will again make\r\npossible on earth that \u003ci\u003etoo-much of life,\u003c/i\u003e from which there also must\r\nneeds grow again the Dionysian state. I promise a \u003ci\u003etragic\u003c/i\u003e age: the\r\nhighest art in the yea-saying to life, tragedy, will be born anew, when\r\nmankind have behind them the consciousness of the hardest but most\r\nnecessary wars, \u003ci\u003ewithout suffering therefrom.\u003c/i\u003e A psychologist might\r\nstill add that what I heard in my younger years in Wagnerian music had\r\nin general naught to do with Wagner; that when I described Wagnerian\r\nmusic I described what \u003ci\u003eI\u003c/i\u003e had heard, that I had instinctively to\r\ntranslate and transfigure all into the new spirit which I bore within\r\nmyself….\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_1_28\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_1_28\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[1]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Mr. Common\u0027s translation, pp. 227-28.\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ca id=\"Footnote_2_29\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003ca href=\"#FNanchor_2_29\" class=\"pginternal\"\u003e\u003cspan class=\"label\"\u003e[2]\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/a\u003e Greek: στοά.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003chr class=\"chap\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"pagenum\"\u003e\u003ca id=\"Page_196\"\u003e[Pg 196]\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/span\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003ch4\u003eTRANSLATOR\u0027S NOTE.\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eWhile the translator flatters himself that this version of Nietzsche\u0027s\r\nearly work—having been submitted to unsparingly scrutinising eyes—is\r\nnot altogether unworthy of the original, he begs to state that he\r\nholds twentieth-century English to be a rather unsatisfactory vehicle\r\nfor philosophical thought. Accordingly, in conjunction with his\r\nfriend Dr. Ernest Lacy, he has prepared a second, more unconventional\r\ntranslation,—in brief, a translation which will enable one whose\r\nknowledge of English extends to, say, the period of Elizabeth, to\r\nappreciate Nietzsche in more forcible language, because the language of\r\na stronger age. It is proposed to provide this second translation with\r\nan appendix, containing many references to the translated writings of\r\nWagner and Schopenhauer; to the works of Pater, Browning, Burckhardt,\r\nRohde, and others, and a summmary and index.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003eFor help in preparing the present translation, the translator wishes\r\nto express his thanks to his friends Dr. Ernest Lacy, Litt.D.; Dr.\r\nJames Waddell Tupper, Ph.D.; Prof. Harry Max Ferren; Mr. James M\u0027Kirdy,\r\nPittsburg; and Mr. Thomas Common, Edinburgh.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cp style=\"font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 55%;\"\u003eWILLIAM AUGUST HAUSSMANN, A.B., Ph.D.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\u003c/article\u003e"}],"SectionSequence":["Back Link","Work Title","Deck","Author","Period","Era","Composition","Date Note","Region","Terra Avita","Terra Avita Region","Modern Country","Original Title","Language","Primary Discipline","Secondary Discipline","Tradition","Full Versions","Core Thesis","Classification","Arguments","Influence","Significance","Evidence Note","Full Text"],"Counts":{"ContextCards":3,"GeoCards":4,"DisciplineCards":2,"Links":11,"Sections":25,"Styles":3,"Scripts":1}}