consciousness of human beings, as can be surmounted again by the Apollonian transfiguring power, so that these two art-impulses are constrained to develop their powers in strictly mutual proportion, according to the law of eternal justice. When the Dionysian powers rise with such vehemence as we experience at present, there can be no doubt that, veiled in a cloud, Apollo has already descended to us; whose grandest beautifying influences a coming generation will perhaps behold.
That this effect is necessary, however, each one would most surely perceive by intuition, if once he found himself carried back--even in a dream--into an Old-Hellenic existence. In walking under high Ionic colonnades, looking upwards to a horizon defined by clear and noble lines, with reflections of his transfigured form by his side in shining marble, and around him solemnly marching or quietly moving men, with harmoniously sounding voices and rhythmical pantomime, would he not in the presence of this perpetual influx of beauty have to raise his hand to Apollo and exclaim: "Blessed race of Hellenes! How great Dionysus must be among you, when the Delian god deems such charms necessary to cure you of your dithyrambic madness!"--To one in this frame of mind, however, an aged Athenian, looking up to him with the sublime eye of Æschylus, might answer: "Say also this, thou curious stranger: what sufferings this people must have undergone, in order to be able to become thus beautiful! But now follow me to a tragic play, and sacrifice with me in the temple of both the deities!"
APPENDIX.
[Late in the year 1888, not long before he was overcome by his sudden attack of insanity, Nietzsche wrote down a few notes concerning his early work, the _Birth of Tragedy._ These were printed in his sister's biography (_Das Leben Friedrich Nietzsches,_ vol. ii. pt.
i. pp. 102 ff.), and are here translated as likely to be of interest to readers of this remarkable work. They also appear in the _Ecce Homo._--TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.]
"To be just to the _Birth of Tragedy_(1872), one will have to forget some few things. It has _wrought effects,_ it even fascinated through that wherein it was amiss--through its application to _Wagnerism,_ just as if this Wagnerism were symptomatic of _a rise and going up._ And just on that account was the book an event in Wagner's life: from thence and only from thence were great hopes linked to the name of Wagner. Even to-day people remind me, sometimes right in the midst of a talk on _Parsifal,_ that _I_ and none other have it on my conscience that such a high opinion of the _cultural value_ of this movement came to the top. More than once have I found the book referred to as 'the _Re_-birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music': one only had an ear for a new formula of _Wagner's_ art, aim, task,--and failed to hear withal what was at bottom valuable therein. 'Hellenism and Pessimism' had been a more unequivocal title: namely, as a first lesson on the way in which the Greeks got the better of pessimism,--on the means whereby they _overcame_ it. Tragedy simply proves that the Greeks were _no_ pessimists: Schopenhauer was mistaken here as he was mistaken in all other things. Considered with some neutrality, the _Birth of Tragedy_ appears very unseasonable: one would not even dream that it was _begun_ amid the thunders of the battle of Wörth. I thought these problems through and through before the walls of Metz in cold September nights, in the midst of the work of nursing the sick; one might even believe the book to be fifty years older. It is politically indifferent--un-German one will say to-day,--it smells shockingly Hegelian, in but a few formulæ does it scent of Schopenhauer's funereal perfume. An 'idea'--the antithesis of 'Dionysian _versus_ Apollonian'--translated into metaphysics; history itself as the evolution of this 'idea'; the antithesis dissolved into oneness in Tragedy; through this optics things that had never yet looked into one another's face, confronted of a sudden, and illumined and _comprehended_ through one another: for instance, Opera and Revolution.
The two decisive _innovations_ of the book are, on the one hand, the comprehension of the _Dionysian_ phenomenon among the Greeks (it gives the first psychology thereof, it sees therein the One root of all Grecian art); on the other, the comprehension of Socratism: Socrates diagnosed for the first time as the tool of Grecian dissolution, as a typical decadent. 'Rationality' _against_ instinct! 'Rationality' at any price as a dangerous, as a life-undermining force! Throughout the whole book a deep hostile silence on Christianity: it is neither Apollonian nor Dionysian; it _negatives_ all _æsthetic_ values (the only values recognised by the _Birth of Tragedy),_ it is in the widest sense nihilistic, whereas in the Dionysian symbol the utmost limit of _affirmation_ is reached. Once or twice the Christian priests are alluded to as a 'malignant kind of dwarfs,' as 'subterraneans.'"
2.
"This beginning is singular beyond measure. I had for my own inmost experience _discovered_ the only symbol and counterpart of history,--I had just thereby been the first to grasp the wonderful phenomenon of the Dionysian. And again, through my diagnosing Socrates as a decadent, I had given a wholly unequivocal proof of how little risk the trustworthiness of my psychological grasp would run of being weakened by some moralistic idiosyncrasy--to view morality itself as a symptom of decadence is an innovation, a novelty of the first rank in the history of knowledge. How far I had leaped in either case beyond the smug shallow-pate-gossip of optimism _contra_ pessimism! I was the first to see the intrinsic antithesis: here, the _degenerating_ instinct which, with subterranean vindictiveness, turns against life (Christianity, the philosophy of Schopenhauer, in a certain sense already the philosophy of Plato, all idealistic systems as typical forms), and there, a formula of _highest affirmation,_ born of fullness and overfullness, a yea-saying without reserve to suffering's self, to guilt's self, to all that is questionable and strange in existence itself. This final, cheerfullest, exuberantly mad-and-merriest Yea to life is not only the highest insight, it is also the _deepest,_ it is that which is most rigorously confirmed and upheld by truth and science. Naught that is, is to be deducted, naught is dispensable; the phases of existence rejected by the Christians and other nihilists are even of an infinitely higher order in the hierarchy of values than that which the instinct of decadence sanctions, yea durst _sanction._ To comprehend this _courage_ is needed, and, as a condition thereof, a surplus of _strength_: for precisely in degree as courage _dares_ to thrust forward, precisely according to the measure of strength, does one approach truth. Perception, the yea-saying to reality, is as much a necessity to the strong as to the weak, under the inspiration of weakness, cowardly shrinking, and _flight_ from reality--the 'ideal.'...They are not free to perceive: the decadents have _need_ of the lie,--it is one of their conditions of self-preservation. Whoso not only comprehends the word Dionysian, but also grasps his _self_ in this word, requires no refutation of Plato or of Christianity or of Schopenhauer--_he smells the putrefaction._" 3.
"To what extent I had just thereby found the concept 'tragic,' the definitive perception of the psychology of tragedy, I have but lately stated in the _Twilight of the Idols,_ page 139 (1st edit.): 'The affirmation of life, even in its most unfamiliar and severe problems, the will to life, enjoying its own inexhaustibility in the sacrifice of its highest types,--_that_ is what I called Dionysian, that is what I divined as the bridge to a psychology of the _tragic_ poet.
Not in order to get rid of terror and pity, not to purify from a dangerous passion by its vehement discharge (it was thus that Aristotle misunderstood it); but, beyond terror and pity, _to realise in fact_ the eternal delight of becoming, that delight which even involves in itself the _joy of annihilating!_[1] In this sense I have the right to understand myself to be the first _tragic philosopher_--that is, the utmost antithesis and antipode to a pessimistic philosopher. Prior to myself there is no such translation of the Dionysian into the philosophic pathos: there lacks the _tragic wisdom,_--I have sought in vain for an indication thereof even among the _great_ Greeks of philosophy, the thinkers of the two centuries _before_ Socrates. A doubt still possessed me as touching _Heraclitus,_ in whose proximity I in general begin to feel warmer and better than anywhere else. The affirmation of transiency _and annihilation,_ to wit the decisive factor in a Dionysian _philosophy,_ the yea-saying to antithesis and war, to _becoming,_ with radical rejection even of the concept '_being,_'--that I must directly acknowledge as, of all thinking hitherto, the nearest to my own. The doctrine of 'eternal recurrence,' that is, of the unconditioned and infinitely repeated cycle of all things--this doctrine of Zarathustra's _might_ after all have been already taught by Heraclitus. At any rate the portico[2] which inherited well-nigh all its fundamental conceptions from Heraclitus, shows traces thereof."
4.
"In this book speaks a prodigious hope. In fine, I see no reason whatever for taking back my hope of a Dionysian future for music. Let us cast a glance a century ahead, let us suppose my assault upon two millenniums of anti-nature and man-vilification succeeds! That new party of life which will take in hand the greatest of all tasks, the upbreeding of mankind to something higher,--add thereto the relentless annihilation of all things degenerating and parasitic, will again make possible on earth that _too-much of life,_ from which there also must needs grow again the Dionysian state. I promise a _tragic_ age: the highest art in the yea-saying to life, tragedy, will be born anew, when mankind have behind them the consciousness of the hardest but most necessary wars, _without suffering therefrom._ A psychologist might still add that what I heard in my younger years in Wagnerian music had in general naught to do with Wagner; that when I described Wagnerian music I described what _I_ had heard, that I had instinctively to translate and transfigure all into the new spirit which I bore within myself..."
[1] Mr. Common's translation, pp. 227-28.
[2] Greek: στοά.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.
While the translator flatters himself that this version of Nietzsche's early work--having been submitted to unsparingly scrutinising eyes--is not altogether unworthy of the original, he begs to state that he holds twentieth-century English to be a rather unsatisfactory vehicle for philosophical thought. Accordingly, in conjunction with his friend Dr. Ernest Lacy, he has prepared a second, more unconventional translation,--in brief, a translation which will enable one whose knowledge of English extends to, say, the period of Elizabeth, to appreciate Nietzsche in more forcible language, because the language of a stronger age. It is proposed to provide this second translation with an appendix, containing many references to the translated writings of Wagner and Schopenhauer; to the works of Pater, Browning, Burckhardt, Rohde, and others, and a summmary and index.
For help in preparing the present translation, the translator wishes to express his thanks to his friends Dr. Ernest Lacy, Litt.D.; Dr.
James Waddell Tupper, Ph.D.; Prof. Harry Max Ferren; Mr. James M'Kirdy, Pittsburg; and Mr. Thomas Common, Edinburgh.
WILLIAM AUGUST HAUSSMANN, A.B., Ph.D.