His recitative—very little meat, more bones, and
plenty of broth—I christened “alla genovese”: I
had no intention of flattering the Genoese with this
remark, but rather the older recitativo, the recitativo
secco.
plenty of broth—I christened “alla genovese”: I
had no intention of flattering the Genoese with this
remark, but rather the older recitativo, the recitativo
secco.
Nietzsche - v08 - The Case of Wagner
And as for
the others who assemble there, the cultured crètins,
the blasé pigmies, the eternally feminine, the
gastrically happy, in short the people—they also
require the sublime, the profound, the overwhelm-
ing. All these people argue in the same way.
“He who overthrows us is strong; he who elevates
us is godly; he who makes us wonder vaguely is
profound. ”—Let us make up our mind then, my
friends in music: we do want to overthrow them,
we do want to elevate them, we do want to make
them wonder vaguely. This much still lies within
our powers.
In regard to the process of making them wonder:
it is here that our notion of “style” finds its start-
ing-point. Above all, no thoughts | Nothing is
more compromising than a thought ! But the
state of mind which precedes thought, the labour
w
## p. 16 (#52) ##############################################
I6 THE CASE OF WAGNER
of the thought still unborn, the promise of future
thought, the world as it was before God created it
—a recrudescence of chaos. . . . Chaos makes
people wonder. . .
In the words of the master: infinity but without
melody.
In the second place, with regard to the over-
throwing-this belongs at least in part, to physio-
logy. Let us, in the first place, examine the in-
struments. A few of them would convince even
our intestines (—they throw open doors, as Händel
would say), others becharm our very marrow. The
colour of the melody is all-important here; the
melody itself is of no importance. Let us be
precise about this point. To what other purpose
should we spend our strength? Let us be char-
acteristic in tone even to the point of foolishness!
If by means of tones we allow plenty of scope for
guessing, this will be put to the credit of our
intellects. Let us irritate nerves, let us strike
them dead: let us handle thunder and lightning,
that is what overthrows. .
But what overthrows best, is passion. —We must
try and be clear concerning this question of passion.
Nothing is cheaper than passion 1 All the virtues
of counterpoint may be dispensed with, there is no
need to have learnt anything, but passion is
always within our reach Beauty is difficult: let
us beware of beauty . . . And also of melody /
However much in earnest we may otherwise be
about the ideal, let us slander, my friends, let us
slander-let us slander melody Nothing is more
dangerous than a beautiful melody Nothing is
## p. 17 (#53) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 17
more certain to ruin tastel My friends, if people
again set about loving beautiful melodies, we are
lost ! . . . -* T-
First principle: melody is immoral. Proof:
“Palestrina. ” Application: “Parsifal. ” The absence
of melody is in itself sanctifying. . . .
And this is the definition of passion. Passion—
or the acrobatic feats of ugliness on the tight-rope
of enharmonic. —My friends, let us dare to be ugly
Wagner dared it! Let us heave the mud of the
most repulsive harmonies undauntedly before us.
We must not even spare our hands ! Only thus,
shall we become natural. . . .
And now a last word of advice. Perhaps it
covers everything. —Let us be idealists /–If not the
cleverest, it is at least the wisest thing we can do.
In order to elevate men we ourselves must be
exalted. Let us wander in the clouds, let us
harangue eternity, let us be careful to group great
symbols all around us! Sursum. / Bumbum. /—
there is no better advice. The “heaving breast”
shall be our argument, “beautiful feelings” our
advocates. Virtue still carries its point against
counterpoint. “How could he who improves us,
help being better than we ? ” man has ever thought
thus. Let us therefore improve mankind l—in this
way we shall become good (in this way we shall even
become “classics”—Schiller became a “classic”).
The straining after the base excitement of the
senses, after so-called beauty, shattered the nerves
of the Italians: let us remain German | Even
Mozart's relation to music—Wagner spoke this
word of comfort to us—was at bottom frivolous. . . .
Y
2
## p. 18 (#54) ##############################################
18 THE CASE OF WAGNER
Never let us acknowledge that music “may be a
recreation,” that it may “enliven,” that it may
“give pleasure. ” Wever let us give pleasure /—we
shall be lost if people once again think of music
hedonistically. . . . That belongs to the bad
Heighteenth century. . . . On the other hand,
nothing would be more advisable (between our-
selves) than a dose of cant, sit venia verbo. This
imparts dignity. —And let us take care to select
the precise moment when it would be fitting to
have black looks, to sigh openly, to sigh devoutly,
to flaunt grand Christian sympathy before their
eyes. “Man is corrupt: who will save him P what
will save him 2" Do not let us reply. We must
be on our guard. We must control our ambition,
which would bid us found new religions. But no
one must doubt that it is we who save him, that in
our music alone salvation is to be found. . . .
(See Wagner's essay, “Religion and Art. ”)
7.
Enough ! Enough ! I fear that, beneath all my
merry jests, you are beginning to recognise the
sinister truth only too clearly—the picture of the
decline of art, of the decline of the artist. The
latter, which is a decline of character, might perhaps
be defined provisionally in the following manner:
the musician is now becoming an actor, his art is
developing ever more and more into a talent for
telling lies. In a certain chapter of my principal
work which bears the title “Concerning the Phy-
## p. 19 (#55) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 19
siology of Art,” “ I shall have an opportunity of
showing more thoroughly how this transformation
of art as a whole into histrionics is just as much
a sign of physiological degeneration (or more
precisely a form of hysteria), as any other indi-
vidual corruption, and infirmity peculiar to the
art which Wagner inaugurated: for instance the
restlessness of its optics, which makes it necessary
to change one's attitude to it every second. They
understand nothing of Wagner who see in him
but a sport of nature, an arbitrary mood, a chapter
of accidents. He was not the “defective,” “ill-
fated,” “contradictory” genius that people have
declared him to be, Wagner was something com-
plete, he was a typical décadent, in whom every sign
of “free will” was lacking, in whom every feature
was necessary. If there is anything at all of
interest in Wagner, it is the consistency with
which a critical physiological condition may con-
vert itself, step by step, conclusion after conclusion,
into a method, a form of procedure, a reform of
all principles, a crisis in taste.
At this point I shall only stop to consider the
question of style. How is decadence in literature
characterised? By the fact that in it life no longer
animates the whole. Words become predominan
and leap right out of the sentence to which the
belong, the sentences themselves trespass beyond
their bounds, and obscure the sense of the whole
page, and the page in its turn gains in vigour at
* See “The Will to Power,” vol. ii. , authorised English
edition. —Tr. --- *
## p. 20 (#56) ##############################################
2O THE CASE OF WAGNER
the cost of the whole—the whole is no longer a
whole. But this is the formula for every decadent
style: there is always anarchy among the atoms,
disaggregation of the will,—in moral terms: “free-
dom of the individual,”—extended into a political
theory: “equal rights for all. ” Life, equal vitality,
all the vibration and exuberance of life, driven
back into the smallest structure, and the remainder
left almost lifeless. Everywhere paralysis, dis-
tress, and numbness, or hostility and chaos: both
striking one with ever increasing force the higher
the forms of organisation are into which one
ascends. The whole no longer lives at all : it
is composed, reckoned up, artificial, a fictitious
thing.
In Wagner's case the first thing we notice is an
hallucination, not of tones, but of attitudes. Only
after he has the latter does he begin to seek the
semiotics of tone for them. If we wish to
admire him, we should observe him at work
here: how he separates and distinguishes, how he
arrives at small unities, and how he galvanises
them, accentuates them, and brings them into pre-
eminence. But in this way he exhausts his strength:
the rest is worthless. How paltry, awkward, and
amateurish is his manner of “developing,” his
attempt at combining incompatible parts. His
manner in this respect reminds one of two people
who even in other ways are not unlike him in style
—the brothers Goncourt; one almost feels com-
passion for so much impotence. That Wagner
disguised his inability to create organic forms, under
the cloak of a principle, that he should have con-
## p. 21 (#57) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 2I
structed a “dramatic style” out of what we should
call the total inability to create any style whatso-
ever, is quite in keeping with that daring habit,
which stuck to him throughout his life, of setting
up a principle wherever capacity failed him.
(In this respect he was very different from old
Kant, who rejoiced in another form of daring, i. e. :
whenever a principle failed him, he endowed man
with a “capacity” which took its place. . . . ) Once
more let it be said that Wagner is really only ,
worthy of admiration and love by virtue of his in-
ventiveness in small things, in his elaboration of .
details, here one is quite justified in proclaiming
him a master of the first rank, as our greatest
musical miniaturist, who compresses an infinity of
meaning and sweetness into the smallest space.
His wealth of colour, of chiaroscuro, of the mystery
of a dying light, so pampers our senses that after-
wards almost every other musician strikes us as
being too robust. If people would believe me.
they would not form the highest idea of Wagner
from that which pleases them in him to-day. All
that was only devised for convincing the masses,
and people like ourselves recoil from it just as one
would recoil from too garish a fresco. What concern
have we with the irritating brutality of the over-
ture to the “Tannhäuser”? Or with the Wal-
kyrie Circus P Whatever has become popular in
Wagner's art, including that which has become
so outside the theatre, is in bad taste and spoils
taste. The “Tannhäuser” March seems to me to
savour of the Philistine; the overture to the
“Flying Dutchman” is much ado about nothing;
z
º
## p. 22 (#58) ##############################################
22 THE CASE OF WAGNER
the prelude to “Lohengrin. ” was the first, only too
insidious, only too successful example of how one
|can hypnotise with music (–I dislike all music
which aspires to nothing higher than to convince
the nerves). But apart from the Wagner who
paints frescoes and practises magnetism, there is
yet another Wagner who hoards small treasures:
our greatest melancholic in music, full of side
glances, loving speeches, and words of comfort, in
which no one ever forestalled him, the tone-
master of melancholy and drowsy happiness. . .
A lexicon of Wagner's most intimate phrases—a
host of short fragments of from five to fifteen bars
each, of music which nobody knows. . . . Wagner
had the virtue of décadents, pity. . . .
8.
—“Very good | But how can this decadent spoil
one's taste if perchance one is not a musician, if
perchance one is not oneself a décadent P”—Con-
versely . How can one help it! Just you try it!
—You know not what Wagner is: quite a great
actor! Does a more profound, a more ponderous
influence exist on the stage? Just look at these
youthlets, all benumbed, pale, breathless They
are Wagnerites: they know nothing about music,
—and yet Wagner gets the mastery of them.
Wagner's art presses with the weight of a hundred
atmospheres: do but submit, there is nothing
else to do. . . . Wagner the actor is a tyrant, his
pathos flings all taste, all resistance, to the winds,
## p. 23 (#59) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 23
—Who else has this persuasive power in his atti-
tudes, who else sees attitudes so clearly before any-
thing else! This holding-of-its-breath in Wagnerian
pathos, this disinclination to have done with an
intense feeling, this terrifying habit of dwelling
on a situation in which every instant almost
chokes one. — —
Was Wagner a musician at all? In any case he
was something else to a much greater degree—that
is to say, an incomparable histrio, the greatest
mime, the most astounding theatrical genius that
the Germans have ever had, our scenic artist par
excellence. He belongs to some other sphere than
the history of music, with whose really great and
genuine figure he must not be confounded. Wagner
and Beethoven—this is blasphemy—and above all
it does not do justice even to Wagner. . . . As a
musician he was no more than what he was as a
man: he became a musician, he became a poet,
because the tyrant in him, his actor's genius, drove
him to be both. Nothing is known concerning
Wagner, so long as his dominating instinct has
not been divined.
Wagner was not instinctively a musician. And
this he proved by the way in which he abandoned
all laws and rules, or, in more precise terms, all
style in music, in order to make what he wanted
with it, i. e. , a rhetorical medium for the stage, a
medium of expression, a means of accentuating an
attitude, a vehicle of suggestion and of the pyscho-
logically picturesque. In this department Wagner
may well stand as an inventor and an innovator
of the first order—he increased the powers of speech
## p. 24 (#60) ##############################################
24 THE CASE OF WAGNER
|
of music to an incalculable degree—: he is the Victor
Hugo of music as language, provided always we
allow that under certain circumstances music may
be something which is not music, but speech
—instrument—ancilla dramaturgica. Wagner's
music, not in the tender care of theatrical taste,
which is very tolerant, is simply bad music, perhaps
the worst that has ever been composed. When a
musician can no longer count up to three, he
becomes “dramatic,” he becomes “Wagnerian. ” . . .
Wagner almost discovered the magic which can
be wrought even now by means of music which is
both incoherent and elementary. His consciousness
of this attains to huge proportions, as does also his
instinct to dispense entirely with higher law and
style. The elementary factors—sound, movement,
colour, in short, the whole sensuousness of music—
suffice. Wagner never calculates as a musician
with a musician's conscience: all he strains after is
effect, nothing more than effect. And he knows
what he has to make an effect upon l—In this he
is as unhesitating as Schiller was, as any theatrical
man must be; he has also the latter's contempt for
the world which he brings to its knees before him.
A man is an actor when he is ahead of mankind in
his possession of this one view, that everything
which has to strike people as true, must not be
true. This rule was formulated by Talma : it
contains the whole psychology of the actor, it also
contains—and this we need not doubt—all his
morality. Wagner's music is never true.
—But it is supposed to be so: and thus everything
is as it should be. As long as we are young, and
## p. 25 (#61) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 25
º
Wagnerites into the bargain, we regard Wagner as
rich, even as the model of a prodigal giver, even as
a great landlord in the realm of sound. We admire
him in very much the same way as young French-
men admire Victor Hugo—that is to say, for his
“royal liberality. ” Later on we admire the one as
well as the other for the opposite reason: as masters
and paragons in economy, as prudent amphitryons.
Nobody can equal them in the art of providing a
princely board with such a modest outlay. —The
Wagnerite, with his credulous stomach, is even
sated with the fare which his master conjures up
before him. But we others who, in books as in
music, desire above all to find substance, and who
are scarcely satisfied with the mere representation
of a banquet, are much worse off. In plain English,
Wagner does not give us enough to masticate.
His recitative—very little meat, more bones, and
plenty of broth—I christened “alla genovese”: I
had no intention of flattering the Genoese with this
remark, but rather the older recitativo, the recitativo
secco. And as to Wagnerian leitmotif, I fear I lack
the necessary culinary understanding for it. If hard
pressed, I might say that I regard it perhaps as an
ideal toothpick, as an opportunity of ridding one's
self of what remains of one's meal. Wagner's
“arias” are still left over. But now I shall hold
my tongue. -
º
9.
Even in his general sketch of the action, Wagner
is above all an actor. The first thing that occurs
to him is a scene which is certain to produce a
## p. 26 (#62) ##############################################
26 THE CASE OF WAGNER
strong effect, a real actio,” with a basso-relievo of
attitudes; an overwhelming scene, this he now
proceeds to elaborate more deeply, and out of it
he draws his characters. The whole of what remains
to be done follows of itself, fully in keeping with a
technical economy which has no reason to be subtle.
It is not Corneille's public that Wagner has to con-
sider, it is merely the nineteenth century. Con-
cerning the “actual requirements of the stage”
Wagner would have about the same opinion as any
other actor of to-day: a series of powerful scenes,
each stronger than the one that preceded it, and,
in between, all kinds of clever nonsense. His first
concern is to guarantee the effect of his work; he
begins with the third act, he approves his work
according to the quality of its final effect. Guided
by this sort of understanding of the stage, there is
not much danger of one's creating a drama unawares.
Drama demands inexorable logic: but what did
Wagner care about logic? Again I say, it was not
Corneille's public that he had to consider; but
* Wote. —It was a real disaster for aesthetics when the
word drama got to be translated by “action. ” Wagner is
not the only culprit here ; the whole world does the same ;-
even the philologists who ought to know better. What
ancient drama had in view was grand fathetic scenes, it
even excluded action (or placed it before the piece or behind
the scenes). The word drama is of Doric origin, and
according to the usage of the Dorian language it meant
“event,” “history,”—both words in a hieratic sense. The
oldest drama represented local legends, “sacred history,”
upon which the foundation of the cult rested (–thus it was
not “action,” but fatality: 3pāv in Doric has nothing to do
with action).
## p. 27 (#63) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 27
merely Germans ! Everybody knows the technical
difficulties before which the dramatist often has to
summon all his strength and frequently to sweat
his blood: the difficulty of making the plot seem
necessary and the unravelment as well, so that both
are conceivable only in a certain way, and so that
each may give the impression of freedom (the
principle of the smallest expenditure of energy).
Now the very last thing that Wagner does is to
sweat blood over the plot; and on this and the
unravelment he certainly spends the smallest
possible amount of energy. Let anybody put one
of Wagner’s “plots” under the microscope, and I
wager that he will be forced to laugh. Nothing is
more enlivening than the dilemma in “Tristan,”
unless it be that in the “Mastersingers. ” Wagner
is no dramatist; let nobody be deceived on this
point. All he did was to love the word “drama”
—he always loved fine words. Nevertheless, in his
writings the word “drama” is merely a misunder-
standing (–and a piece of shrewdness: Wagner
always affected superiority in regard to the word
“opera”—); just as the word “spirit” is a mis-
understanding in the New Testament. —He was
not enough of a psychologist for drama; he in-
stinctively avoided a psychological plot—but how P
—by always putting idiosyncrasy in its place . . .
Very modern—eh? Very Parisian very decadent!
. . . Incidentally, the plots that Wagner knows
how to unravel with the help of dramatic inven-
tions, are of quite another kind. For example, let
us suppose that Wagner requires a female voice.
A whole act without a woman's voice would be
## p. 28 (#64) ##############################################
28 THE CASE OF WAGNER
impossible ! But in this particular instance not
one of the heroines happens to be free. What
does Wagner do? He emancipates the oldest
woman on earth, Erda: “Step up, aged grand-
mamma! You have got to sing ! ” And Erda
sings. Wagner's end has been achieved. There-
upon he immediately dismisses the old lady: “Why
on earth did you come 2 Off with you! Kindly go
to sleep again! ” In short, a scene full of mytho-
logical awe, before which the Wagnerite wonders
all kinds of things. . .
—“But the substance of Wagner's texts their
mythical substance, their eternal substance:”—
Question: how is this substance, this eternal
substance tested 2 The chemical analyst replies:
Translate Wagner into the real, into the modern,--
let us be even more cruel, and say: into the
bourgeois And what will then become of him P-
Between ourselves, I have tried the experiment.
Nothing is more entertaining, nothing more worthy
of being recommended to a picnic-party, than to
discuss Wagner dressed in a more modern garb:
for instance Parsifal, as a candidate in divinity,
with a public-school education (–the latter, quite
indispensable for pure foolishness). What surprises
await one ! Would you believe it, that Wagner's
heroines one and all, once they have been divested
of the heroic husks, are almost indistinguishable
from Mdme. Bovary ! —just as one can conceive
conversely, of Flaubert's being well able to transform
all his heroines into Scandinavian or Carthaginian
women, and then to offer them to Wagner in this
mythologised form as a libretto. Indeed, generally
## p. 29 (#65) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 29
speaking, Wagner does not seem to have become
interested in any other problems than those which
engross the little Parisian decadents of to-day.
Always five paces away from the hospital All
very modern problems, all problems which are at
home in big cities / do not doubt it ! . . . Ilave
you noticed (it is in keeping with this association
of ideas) that Wagner's heroines never have any
children? —They cannot have them. . . . The despair
with which Wagner tackled the problem of arrang-
ing in some way for Siegfried's birth, betrays how
modern his feelings on this point actually were. —
Siegfried “emancipated woman”—but not with
any hope of offspring. —And now here is a fact
which leaves us speechless: Parsifal is Lohengrin's
father How ever did he do it? —Ought one at
this juncture to remember that “chastity works
miracles”? . . .
Wagnerus dirit princeps in castitate auctoritas.
IO.
And now just a word en passant concerning
Wagner's writings: they are among other things
a school of shrewdness. The system of procedures
of which Wagner disposes, might be applied to a
hundred other cases, he that hath ears to hear
let him hear. Perhaps I may lay claim to some
public acknowledgment, if I put three on the most
valuable of these procedures into a precise form.
Everything that Wagner cannot do is bad.
Wagner could do much more than he does;
but his strong principles prevent him.
Everything that Wagner can do, no one will
## p. 30 (#66) ##############################################
3O THE CASE OF WAGNER
ever be able to do after him, no one has ever
done before him, and no one must ever do after
him : Wagner is godly. . . .
These three propositions are the quintessence
of Wagner's writings;– the rest is merely—
“literature. ” \
—Not every kind of music hitherto has been in
need of literature; and it were well, to try and
discover the actual reason of this. Is it perhaps
that Wagner's music is too difficult to understand?
Or did he fear precisely the reverse. —that it was
too easy, that people might not understand it with
sufficient difficulty 2—As a matter of fact, his whole
life long, he did nothing but repeat one pro-
position: that his music did not mean music alone!
But something more | Something immeasurably
more . . . “Mot music alone—no musician would
speak in this way. I repeat, Wagner could not
create things as a whole; he had no choice, he
was obliged to create things in bits; with “motives,”
attitudes, formulae, duplications, and hundreds of
repetitions, he remained a rhetorician in music,+
and that is why he was at bottom forced to press
“this means” into the foreground. “Music can–
never be anything else than, a means”: this was
his theory; but above all it was the only practice
that lay open to him. No musician however thinks
in this way. —Wagner was in need of literature, in
order to persuade the whole world to take his
music seriously, profoundly, “because it meant an
infinity of things”; all his life he was the com-
mentator of the “Idea. ”—What does Elsa stand
for P But without a doubt, Elsa is “the unconscious
## p. 31 (#67) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 3I
~
mind of the people” (–" when I realised this, I
naturally became a thorough revolutionist”—).
Do not let us forget that, when Hegel and
Schelling were misleading the minds of Germany,
Wagner was still young: that he guessed, or rather
fully grasped, that the only thing which Germans
take seriously is—“the idea,”—that is to say, some-
thing obscure, uncertain, wonderful; that among
Germans lucidity is an objection, logic a refutation.
Schopenhauer rigorously pointed out the dishonesty
of Hegel's and Schelling's age, rigorously, but also
unjustly; for he himself, the pessimistic old counter-
feiter, was in no way more “honest” than his more
famous contemporaries. But let us leave morality
out of the question, Hegel is a matter of taste. .
And not only of German but of European taste!
. . A taste which Wagner understood —which
he felt equal to which he has immortalised –
All he did was to apply it to music—he invented a
style for himself, which might mean an “infinity
of things,”—he was Hegel's heir. . . . Music as
“Idea. ”—
And how well Wagner was understood —The
same kind of man who used to gush over Hegel,
now gushes over Wagner; in his school they even
write Hegelian. ” But he who understood Wagner
best, was the German youthlet. The two words
“infinity” and “meaning ” were sufficient for this:
at their sound the youthlet immediately began to
feel exceptionally happy. Wagner did not conquer
these boys with music, but with the “idea”:—it is
* Hegel and his school wrote notoriously obscure German.
–7? .
## p. 32 (#68) ##############################################
32 THE CASE OF WAGNER
the enigmatical vagueness of his art, its game of
hide-and-seek amid a hundred symbols, its poly-
chromy in ideals, which leads and lures the lads.
It is Wagner's genius for forming clouds, his
sweeps and swoops through the air, his ubiquity and
nullibiety—precisely the same qualities with which
Hegel led and lured in his time ! —Moreover in
the presence of Wagner's multifariousness, pleni-
tude and arbitrariness, they seem to themselves
justified—“saved. ” Tremulously they listen while
the great symbols in his art seem to make them-
selves heard from out the misty distance, with a
gentle roll of thunder, and they are not at all dis-
pleased if at times it gets a little grey, gruesome
and cold. Are they not one and all, like Wagner
himself, on quite intimate terms with bad weather,
with German weather | Wotan is their God : but
Wotan is the God of bad weather. . . . They are
right, how could these German youths—in their
present condition,-miss what we others, we
halcyonians, miss in Wagner? i. e. : la gaya scienza;
light feet, wit, fire, grave, grand logic, stellar danc-
ing, wanton intellectuality, the vibrating light of
the South, the calm sea—perfection. . . .
II.
—I have mentioned the sphere to which Wagner
belongs—certainly not to the history of music.
What, however, does he mean historically? —The
rise of the actor in music: a momentous event
which not only leads me to think but also to fear.
In a word: “Wagner and Liszt. ” Never yet
## p. 33 (#69) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 33
ſ
have the “uprightness” and “genuineness” of Tl
musicians been put to such a dangerous test. It is
glaringly obvious: great success, mob success is
no longer the achievement of the genuine,—in order
to get it a man must be an actor —Victor Hugo
and Richard Wagner—they both prove one and
the same thing: that in declining civilisations,
wherever the mob is allowed to decide, genuine-
ness becomes superfluous, prejudicial, unfavourable.
The actor, alone, can still kindle great enthusiasm. —
And thus it is his golden age which is now dawning,
—his and that of all those who are in any way
related to him. With drums and fifes, Wagner
marches at the head of all artists in declamation,
in display and virtuosity. He began by convincing_
the conductors of orchestras, the scene-shifters and
stage-singers, not to forget the orchestra:-he
“delivered” them from monotony. . . . The move-
ment that Wagner created has spread even to the
land of knowledge: whole sciences pertaining to
music are rising slowly, out of centuries of
scholasticism. As an example of what I mean,
let me point more particularly to Riemann's
services to rhythmics; he was the first who called
attention to the leading idea in punctuation—even
for music (unfortunately he did so with a bad
word; he called it “phrasing”)—All these people,
and I say it with gratitude, are the best, the most
respectable among Wagner's admirers—they have
a perfect right to honour Wagner. The same
instinct unites them with one another; in him
they recognise their highest type, and since he
has inflamed them with his own ardour they feel
3
## p. 34 (#70) ##############################################
34 THE CASE OF WAGNER
themselves transformed into power, even into great
power. In this quarter, if anywhere, Wagner's
influence has really been beneficent. Never before
has there been so much thinking, willing, and
industry in this sphere. Wagner endowed all
these artists with a new conscience: what they
now exact and obtain from themselves, they had
never exacted before Wagner's time—before then
they had been too modest. Another spirit prevails
on the stage since Wagner rules there: the most
difficult things are expected, blame is severe, praise
very scarce,—the good and the excellent have
become the rule. Taste is no longer necessary,
nor even is a good voice. Wagner is sung only
with ruined voices: this has a more “dramatic”
effect. Even talent is out of the question. Ex-
pressiveness at all costs, which is what the
Wagnerian ideal—the ideal of decadence—de-
mands, is hardly compatible with talent. All
that is required for this is virtue—that is to say,
training, automatism, “self-denial. ” Neither taste,
voices, nor gifts; Wagner's stage requires but one
thing: Germans / . . . The definition of a German:
an obedient man with long legs. . . . There is a
deep significance in the fact that the rise of
Wagner should have coincided with the rise of the
“Empire”: both phenomena are a proof of one
and the same thing—obedience and long legs. -
Never have people been more obedient, never have
they been so well ordered about. The conductors
of Wagnerian orchestras, more particularly, are
worthy of an age, which posterity will one day
call, with timid awe, the classical age of war.
## p. 35 (#71) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 35
Wagner understood how to command; in this
respect, too, he was a great teacher. He com-
manded as a man who had exercised an inexorable
will over himself—as one who had practised lifelong
discipline: Wagner was, perhaps, the greatest º
ample of self-violence in the whole of the histo
of art (–even Alfieri, who in other respects is his
next-of-kin, is outdone by him. The note of a
Torinese).
I2.
This view, that our actors have become more
worthy of respect than heretofore, does not imply
that I believe them to have become less danger-
ous. . . . But who is in any doubt as to what I
want, as to what the three requisitions are con-
cerning which my wrath and my care and love
of art, have made me open my mouth on this
occasion?
That the stage should not become master of the arts.
That the actor should not become the corrupter of
the genuine.
That music should not become an art of lying.
*
FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.
|
t
s
i
i
## p. 36 (#72) ##############################################
POSTSCRIPT
THE gravity of these last words allows me at
this point to introduce a few sentences out of an
unprinted essay which will at least leave no doubt
as to my earnestness in regard to this question.
The title of this essay is: “What Wagner has cost
us. ” -
One pays dearly for having been a follower of
Wagner. Even to-day a vague feeling that this
is so, still prevails. Even Wagner's success, his
triumph, did not uproot this feeling thoroughly.
But formerly it was strong, it was terrible; it was
a gloomy hate throughout almost three-quarters
of Wagner's life. The resistance which he met
with among us Germans cannot be too highly
valued or too highly honoured. People guarded
themselves against him as against an illness, not
with arguments—it is impossible to refute an ill-
ness—, but with obstruction, with mistrust, with
repugnance, with loathing, with sombre earnestness,
as though he were a great rampant danger. The
aesthetes gave themselves away when out of three
schools of German philosophy they waged an
absurd war against Wagner's principles with “ifs”
and “fors”—what did he care about principles,
even his own l—The Germans themselves had
enough instinctive good sense to dispense with
every “if” and “for” in this matter. An instinct
is weakened when it becomes conscious: for by
36
## p.
the others who assemble there, the cultured crètins,
the blasé pigmies, the eternally feminine, the
gastrically happy, in short the people—they also
require the sublime, the profound, the overwhelm-
ing. All these people argue in the same way.
“He who overthrows us is strong; he who elevates
us is godly; he who makes us wonder vaguely is
profound. ”—Let us make up our mind then, my
friends in music: we do want to overthrow them,
we do want to elevate them, we do want to make
them wonder vaguely. This much still lies within
our powers.
In regard to the process of making them wonder:
it is here that our notion of “style” finds its start-
ing-point. Above all, no thoughts | Nothing is
more compromising than a thought ! But the
state of mind which precedes thought, the labour
w
## p. 16 (#52) ##############################################
I6 THE CASE OF WAGNER
of the thought still unborn, the promise of future
thought, the world as it was before God created it
—a recrudescence of chaos. . . . Chaos makes
people wonder. . .
In the words of the master: infinity but without
melody.
In the second place, with regard to the over-
throwing-this belongs at least in part, to physio-
logy. Let us, in the first place, examine the in-
struments. A few of them would convince even
our intestines (—they throw open doors, as Händel
would say), others becharm our very marrow. The
colour of the melody is all-important here; the
melody itself is of no importance. Let us be
precise about this point. To what other purpose
should we spend our strength? Let us be char-
acteristic in tone even to the point of foolishness!
If by means of tones we allow plenty of scope for
guessing, this will be put to the credit of our
intellects. Let us irritate nerves, let us strike
them dead: let us handle thunder and lightning,
that is what overthrows. .
But what overthrows best, is passion. —We must
try and be clear concerning this question of passion.
Nothing is cheaper than passion 1 All the virtues
of counterpoint may be dispensed with, there is no
need to have learnt anything, but passion is
always within our reach Beauty is difficult: let
us beware of beauty . . . And also of melody /
However much in earnest we may otherwise be
about the ideal, let us slander, my friends, let us
slander-let us slander melody Nothing is more
dangerous than a beautiful melody Nothing is
## p. 17 (#53) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 17
more certain to ruin tastel My friends, if people
again set about loving beautiful melodies, we are
lost ! . . . -* T-
First principle: melody is immoral. Proof:
“Palestrina. ” Application: “Parsifal. ” The absence
of melody is in itself sanctifying. . . .
And this is the definition of passion. Passion—
or the acrobatic feats of ugliness on the tight-rope
of enharmonic. —My friends, let us dare to be ugly
Wagner dared it! Let us heave the mud of the
most repulsive harmonies undauntedly before us.
We must not even spare our hands ! Only thus,
shall we become natural. . . .
And now a last word of advice. Perhaps it
covers everything. —Let us be idealists /–If not the
cleverest, it is at least the wisest thing we can do.
In order to elevate men we ourselves must be
exalted. Let us wander in the clouds, let us
harangue eternity, let us be careful to group great
symbols all around us! Sursum. / Bumbum. /—
there is no better advice. The “heaving breast”
shall be our argument, “beautiful feelings” our
advocates. Virtue still carries its point against
counterpoint. “How could he who improves us,
help being better than we ? ” man has ever thought
thus. Let us therefore improve mankind l—in this
way we shall become good (in this way we shall even
become “classics”—Schiller became a “classic”).
The straining after the base excitement of the
senses, after so-called beauty, shattered the nerves
of the Italians: let us remain German | Even
Mozart's relation to music—Wagner spoke this
word of comfort to us—was at bottom frivolous. . . .
Y
2
## p. 18 (#54) ##############################################
18 THE CASE OF WAGNER
Never let us acknowledge that music “may be a
recreation,” that it may “enliven,” that it may
“give pleasure. ” Wever let us give pleasure /—we
shall be lost if people once again think of music
hedonistically. . . . That belongs to the bad
Heighteenth century. . . . On the other hand,
nothing would be more advisable (between our-
selves) than a dose of cant, sit venia verbo. This
imparts dignity. —And let us take care to select
the precise moment when it would be fitting to
have black looks, to sigh openly, to sigh devoutly,
to flaunt grand Christian sympathy before their
eyes. “Man is corrupt: who will save him P what
will save him 2" Do not let us reply. We must
be on our guard. We must control our ambition,
which would bid us found new religions. But no
one must doubt that it is we who save him, that in
our music alone salvation is to be found. . . .
(See Wagner's essay, “Religion and Art. ”)
7.
Enough ! Enough ! I fear that, beneath all my
merry jests, you are beginning to recognise the
sinister truth only too clearly—the picture of the
decline of art, of the decline of the artist. The
latter, which is a decline of character, might perhaps
be defined provisionally in the following manner:
the musician is now becoming an actor, his art is
developing ever more and more into a talent for
telling lies. In a certain chapter of my principal
work which bears the title “Concerning the Phy-
## p. 19 (#55) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 19
siology of Art,” “ I shall have an opportunity of
showing more thoroughly how this transformation
of art as a whole into histrionics is just as much
a sign of physiological degeneration (or more
precisely a form of hysteria), as any other indi-
vidual corruption, and infirmity peculiar to the
art which Wagner inaugurated: for instance the
restlessness of its optics, which makes it necessary
to change one's attitude to it every second. They
understand nothing of Wagner who see in him
but a sport of nature, an arbitrary mood, a chapter
of accidents. He was not the “defective,” “ill-
fated,” “contradictory” genius that people have
declared him to be, Wagner was something com-
plete, he was a typical décadent, in whom every sign
of “free will” was lacking, in whom every feature
was necessary. If there is anything at all of
interest in Wagner, it is the consistency with
which a critical physiological condition may con-
vert itself, step by step, conclusion after conclusion,
into a method, a form of procedure, a reform of
all principles, a crisis in taste.
At this point I shall only stop to consider the
question of style. How is decadence in literature
characterised? By the fact that in it life no longer
animates the whole. Words become predominan
and leap right out of the sentence to which the
belong, the sentences themselves trespass beyond
their bounds, and obscure the sense of the whole
page, and the page in its turn gains in vigour at
* See “The Will to Power,” vol. ii. , authorised English
edition. —Tr. --- *
## p. 20 (#56) ##############################################
2O THE CASE OF WAGNER
the cost of the whole—the whole is no longer a
whole. But this is the formula for every decadent
style: there is always anarchy among the atoms,
disaggregation of the will,—in moral terms: “free-
dom of the individual,”—extended into a political
theory: “equal rights for all. ” Life, equal vitality,
all the vibration and exuberance of life, driven
back into the smallest structure, and the remainder
left almost lifeless. Everywhere paralysis, dis-
tress, and numbness, or hostility and chaos: both
striking one with ever increasing force the higher
the forms of organisation are into which one
ascends. The whole no longer lives at all : it
is composed, reckoned up, artificial, a fictitious
thing.
In Wagner's case the first thing we notice is an
hallucination, not of tones, but of attitudes. Only
after he has the latter does he begin to seek the
semiotics of tone for them. If we wish to
admire him, we should observe him at work
here: how he separates and distinguishes, how he
arrives at small unities, and how he galvanises
them, accentuates them, and brings them into pre-
eminence. But in this way he exhausts his strength:
the rest is worthless. How paltry, awkward, and
amateurish is his manner of “developing,” his
attempt at combining incompatible parts. His
manner in this respect reminds one of two people
who even in other ways are not unlike him in style
—the brothers Goncourt; one almost feels com-
passion for so much impotence. That Wagner
disguised his inability to create organic forms, under
the cloak of a principle, that he should have con-
## p. 21 (#57) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 2I
structed a “dramatic style” out of what we should
call the total inability to create any style whatso-
ever, is quite in keeping with that daring habit,
which stuck to him throughout his life, of setting
up a principle wherever capacity failed him.
(In this respect he was very different from old
Kant, who rejoiced in another form of daring, i. e. :
whenever a principle failed him, he endowed man
with a “capacity” which took its place. . . . ) Once
more let it be said that Wagner is really only ,
worthy of admiration and love by virtue of his in-
ventiveness in small things, in his elaboration of .
details, here one is quite justified in proclaiming
him a master of the first rank, as our greatest
musical miniaturist, who compresses an infinity of
meaning and sweetness into the smallest space.
His wealth of colour, of chiaroscuro, of the mystery
of a dying light, so pampers our senses that after-
wards almost every other musician strikes us as
being too robust. If people would believe me.
they would not form the highest idea of Wagner
from that which pleases them in him to-day. All
that was only devised for convincing the masses,
and people like ourselves recoil from it just as one
would recoil from too garish a fresco. What concern
have we with the irritating brutality of the over-
ture to the “Tannhäuser”? Or with the Wal-
kyrie Circus P Whatever has become popular in
Wagner's art, including that which has become
so outside the theatre, is in bad taste and spoils
taste. The “Tannhäuser” March seems to me to
savour of the Philistine; the overture to the
“Flying Dutchman” is much ado about nothing;
z
º
## p. 22 (#58) ##############################################
22 THE CASE OF WAGNER
the prelude to “Lohengrin. ” was the first, only too
insidious, only too successful example of how one
|can hypnotise with music (–I dislike all music
which aspires to nothing higher than to convince
the nerves). But apart from the Wagner who
paints frescoes and practises magnetism, there is
yet another Wagner who hoards small treasures:
our greatest melancholic in music, full of side
glances, loving speeches, and words of comfort, in
which no one ever forestalled him, the tone-
master of melancholy and drowsy happiness. . .
A lexicon of Wagner's most intimate phrases—a
host of short fragments of from five to fifteen bars
each, of music which nobody knows. . . . Wagner
had the virtue of décadents, pity. . . .
8.
—“Very good | But how can this decadent spoil
one's taste if perchance one is not a musician, if
perchance one is not oneself a décadent P”—Con-
versely . How can one help it! Just you try it!
—You know not what Wagner is: quite a great
actor! Does a more profound, a more ponderous
influence exist on the stage? Just look at these
youthlets, all benumbed, pale, breathless They
are Wagnerites: they know nothing about music,
—and yet Wagner gets the mastery of them.
Wagner's art presses with the weight of a hundred
atmospheres: do but submit, there is nothing
else to do. . . . Wagner the actor is a tyrant, his
pathos flings all taste, all resistance, to the winds,
## p. 23 (#59) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 23
—Who else has this persuasive power in his atti-
tudes, who else sees attitudes so clearly before any-
thing else! This holding-of-its-breath in Wagnerian
pathos, this disinclination to have done with an
intense feeling, this terrifying habit of dwelling
on a situation in which every instant almost
chokes one. — —
Was Wagner a musician at all? In any case he
was something else to a much greater degree—that
is to say, an incomparable histrio, the greatest
mime, the most astounding theatrical genius that
the Germans have ever had, our scenic artist par
excellence. He belongs to some other sphere than
the history of music, with whose really great and
genuine figure he must not be confounded. Wagner
and Beethoven—this is blasphemy—and above all
it does not do justice even to Wagner. . . . As a
musician he was no more than what he was as a
man: he became a musician, he became a poet,
because the tyrant in him, his actor's genius, drove
him to be both. Nothing is known concerning
Wagner, so long as his dominating instinct has
not been divined.
Wagner was not instinctively a musician. And
this he proved by the way in which he abandoned
all laws and rules, or, in more precise terms, all
style in music, in order to make what he wanted
with it, i. e. , a rhetorical medium for the stage, a
medium of expression, a means of accentuating an
attitude, a vehicle of suggestion and of the pyscho-
logically picturesque. In this department Wagner
may well stand as an inventor and an innovator
of the first order—he increased the powers of speech
## p. 24 (#60) ##############################################
24 THE CASE OF WAGNER
|
of music to an incalculable degree—: he is the Victor
Hugo of music as language, provided always we
allow that under certain circumstances music may
be something which is not music, but speech
—instrument—ancilla dramaturgica. Wagner's
music, not in the tender care of theatrical taste,
which is very tolerant, is simply bad music, perhaps
the worst that has ever been composed. When a
musician can no longer count up to three, he
becomes “dramatic,” he becomes “Wagnerian. ” . . .
Wagner almost discovered the magic which can
be wrought even now by means of music which is
both incoherent and elementary. His consciousness
of this attains to huge proportions, as does also his
instinct to dispense entirely with higher law and
style. The elementary factors—sound, movement,
colour, in short, the whole sensuousness of music—
suffice. Wagner never calculates as a musician
with a musician's conscience: all he strains after is
effect, nothing more than effect. And he knows
what he has to make an effect upon l—In this he
is as unhesitating as Schiller was, as any theatrical
man must be; he has also the latter's contempt for
the world which he brings to its knees before him.
A man is an actor when he is ahead of mankind in
his possession of this one view, that everything
which has to strike people as true, must not be
true. This rule was formulated by Talma : it
contains the whole psychology of the actor, it also
contains—and this we need not doubt—all his
morality. Wagner's music is never true.
—But it is supposed to be so: and thus everything
is as it should be. As long as we are young, and
## p. 25 (#61) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 25
º
Wagnerites into the bargain, we regard Wagner as
rich, even as the model of a prodigal giver, even as
a great landlord in the realm of sound. We admire
him in very much the same way as young French-
men admire Victor Hugo—that is to say, for his
“royal liberality. ” Later on we admire the one as
well as the other for the opposite reason: as masters
and paragons in economy, as prudent amphitryons.
Nobody can equal them in the art of providing a
princely board with such a modest outlay. —The
Wagnerite, with his credulous stomach, is even
sated with the fare which his master conjures up
before him. But we others who, in books as in
music, desire above all to find substance, and who
are scarcely satisfied with the mere representation
of a banquet, are much worse off. In plain English,
Wagner does not give us enough to masticate.
His recitative—very little meat, more bones, and
plenty of broth—I christened “alla genovese”: I
had no intention of flattering the Genoese with this
remark, but rather the older recitativo, the recitativo
secco. And as to Wagnerian leitmotif, I fear I lack
the necessary culinary understanding for it. If hard
pressed, I might say that I regard it perhaps as an
ideal toothpick, as an opportunity of ridding one's
self of what remains of one's meal. Wagner's
“arias” are still left over. But now I shall hold
my tongue. -
º
9.
Even in his general sketch of the action, Wagner
is above all an actor. The first thing that occurs
to him is a scene which is certain to produce a
## p. 26 (#62) ##############################################
26 THE CASE OF WAGNER
strong effect, a real actio,” with a basso-relievo of
attitudes; an overwhelming scene, this he now
proceeds to elaborate more deeply, and out of it
he draws his characters. The whole of what remains
to be done follows of itself, fully in keeping with a
technical economy which has no reason to be subtle.
It is not Corneille's public that Wagner has to con-
sider, it is merely the nineteenth century. Con-
cerning the “actual requirements of the stage”
Wagner would have about the same opinion as any
other actor of to-day: a series of powerful scenes,
each stronger than the one that preceded it, and,
in between, all kinds of clever nonsense. His first
concern is to guarantee the effect of his work; he
begins with the third act, he approves his work
according to the quality of its final effect. Guided
by this sort of understanding of the stage, there is
not much danger of one's creating a drama unawares.
Drama demands inexorable logic: but what did
Wagner care about logic? Again I say, it was not
Corneille's public that he had to consider; but
* Wote. —It was a real disaster for aesthetics when the
word drama got to be translated by “action. ” Wagner is
not the only culprit here ; the whole world does the same ;-
even the philologists who ought to know better. What
ancient drama had in view was grand fathetic scenes, it
even excluded action (or placed it before the piece or behind
the scenes). The word drama is of Doric origin, and
according to the usage of the Dorian language it meant
“event,” “history,”—both words in a hieratic sense. The
oldest drama represented local legends, “sacred history,”
upon which the foundation of the cult rested (–thus it was
not “action,” but fatality: 3pāv in Doric has nothing to do
with action).
## p. 27 (#63) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 27
merely Germans ! Everybody knows the technical
difficulties before which the dramatist often has to
summon all his strength and frequently to sweat
his blood: the difficulty of making the plot seem
necessary and the unravelment as well, so that both
are conceivable only in a certain way, and so that
each may give the impression of freedom (the
principle of the smallest expenditure of energy).
Now the very last thing that Wagner does is to
sweat blood over the plot; and on this and the
unravelment he certainly spends the smallest
possible amount of energy. Let anybody put one
of Wagner’s “plots” under the microscope, and I
wager that he will be forced to laugh. Nothing is
more enlivening than the dilemma in “Tristan,”
unless it be that in the “Mastersingers. ” Wagner
is no dramatist; let nobody be deceived on this
point. All he did was to love the word “drama”
—he always loved fine words. Nevertheless, in his
writings the word “drama” is merely a misunder-
standing (–and a piece of shrewdness: Wagner
always affected superiority in regard to the word
“opera”—); just as the word “spirit” is a mis-
understanding in the New Testament. —He was
not enough of a psychologist for drama; he in-
stinctively avoided a psychological plot—but how P
—by always putting idiosyncrasy in its place . . .
Very modern—eh? Very Parisian very decadent!
. . . Incidentally, the plots that Wagner knows
how to unravel with the help of dramatic inven-
tions, are of quite another kind. For example, let
us suppose that Wagner requires a female voice.
A whole act without a woman's voice would be
## p. 28 (#64) ##############################################
28 THE CASE OF WAGNER
impossible ! But in this particular instance not
one of the heroines happens to be free. What
does Wagner do? He emancipates the oldest
woman on earth, Erda: “Step up, aged grand-
mamma! You have got to sing ! ” And Erda
sings. Wagner's end has been achieved. There-
upon he immediately dismisses the old lady: “Why
on earth did you come 2 Off with you! Kindly go
to sleep again! ” In short, a scene full of mytho-
logical awe, before which the Wagnerite wonders
all kinds of things. . .
—“But the substance of Wagner's texts their
mythical substance, their eternal substance:”—
Question: how is this substance, this eternal
substance tested 2 The chemical analyst replies:
Translate Wagner into the real, into the modern,--
let us be even more cruel, and say: into the
bourgeois And what will then become of him P-
Between ourselves, I have tried the experiment.
Nothing is more entertaining, nothing more worthy
of being recommended to a picnic-party, than to
discuss Wagner dressed in a more modern garb:
for instance Parsifal, as a candidate in divinity,
with a public-school education (–the latter, quite
indispensable for pure foolishness). What surprises
await one ! Would you believe it, that Wagner's
heroines one and all, once they have been divested
of the heroic husks, are almost indistinguishable
from Mdme. Bovary ! —just as one can conceive
conversely, of Flaubert's being well able to transform
all his heroines into Scandinavian or Carthaginian
women, and then to offer them to Wagner in this
mythologised form as a libretto. Indeed, generally
## p. 29 (#65) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 29
speaking, Wagner does not seem to have become
interested in any other problems than those which
engross the little Parisian decadents of to-day.
Always five paces away from the hospital All
very modern problems, all problems which are at
home in big cities / do not doubt it ! . . . Ilave
you noticed (it is in keeping with this association
of ideas) that Wagner's heroines never have any
children? —They cannot have them. . . . The despair
with which Wagner tackled the problem of arrang-
ing in some way for Siegfried's birth, betrays how
modern his feelings on this point actually were. —
Siegfried “emancipated woman”—but not with
any hope of offspring. —And now here is a fact
which leaves us speechless: Parsifal is Lohengrin's
father How ever did he do it? —Ought one at
this juncture to remember that “chastity works
miracles”? . . .
Wagnerus dirit princeps in castitate auctoritas.
IO.
And now just a word en passant concerning
Wagner's writings: they are among other things
a school of shrewdness. The system of procedures
of which Wagner disposes, might be applied to a
hundred other cases, he that hath ears to hear
let him hear. Perhaps I may lay claim to some
public acknowledgment, if I put three on the most
valuable of these procedures into a precise form.
Everything that Wagner cannot do is bad.
Wagner could do much more than he does;
but his strong principles prevent him.
Everything that Wagner can do, no one will
## p. 30 (#66) ##############################################
3O THE CASE OF WAGNER
ever be able to do after him, no one has ever
done before him, and no one must ever do after
him : Wagner is godly. . . .
These three propositions are the quintessence
of Wagner's writings;– the rest is merely—
“literature. ” \
—Not every kind of music hitherto has been in
need of literature; and it were well, to try and
discover the actual reason of this. Is it perhaps
that Wagner's music is too difficult to understand?
Or did he fear precisely the reverse. —that it was
too easy, that people might not understand it with
sufficient difficulty 2—As a matter of fact, his whole
life long, he did nothing but repeat one pro-
position: that his music did not mean music alone!
But something more | Something immeasurably
more . . . “Mot music alone—no musician would
speak in this way. I repeat, Wagner could not
create things as a whole; he had no choice, he
was obliged to create things in bits; with “motives,”
attitudes, formulae, duplications, and hundreds of
repetitions, he remained a rhetorician in music,+
and that is why he was at bottom forced to press
“this means” into the foreground. “Music can–
never be anything else than, a means”: this was
his theory; but above all it was the only practice
that lay open to him. No musician however thinks
in this way. —Wagner was in need of literature, in
order to persuade the whole world to take his
music seriously, profoundly, “because it meant an
infinity of things”; all his life he was the com-
mentator of the “Idea. ”—What does Elsa stand
for P But without a doubt, Elsa is “the unconscious
## p. 31 (#67) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 3I
~
mind of the people” (–" when I realised this, I
naturally became a thorough revolutionist”—).
Do not let us forget that, when Hegel and
Schelling were misleading the minds of Germany,
Wagner was still young: that he guessed, or rather
fully grasped, that the only thing which Germans
take seriously is—“the idea,”—that is to say, some-
thing obscure, uncertain, wonderful; that among
Germans lucidity is an objection, logic a refutation.
Schopenhauer rigorously pointed out the dishonesty
of Hegel's and Schelling's age, rigorously, but also
unjustly; for he himself, the pessimistic old counter-
feiter, was in no way more “honest” than his more
famous contemporaries. But let us leave morality
out of the question, Hegel is a matter of taste. .
And not only of German but of European taste!
. . A taste which Wagner understood —which
he felt equal to which he has immortalised –
All he did was to apply it to music—he invented a
style for himself, which might mean an “infinity
of things,”—he was Hegel's heir. . . . Music as
“Idea. ”—
And how well Wagner was understood —The
same kind of man who used to gush over Hegel,
now gushes over Wagner; in his school they even
write Hegelian. ” But he who understood Wagner
best, was the German youthlet. The two words
“infinity” and “meaning ” were sufficient for this:
at their sound the youthlet immediately began to
feel exceptionally happy. Wagner did not conquer
these boys with music, but with the “idea”:—it is
* Hegel and his school wrote notoriously obscure German.
–7? .
## p. 32 (#68) ##############################################
32 THE CASE OF WAGNER
the enigmatical vagueness of his art, its game of
hide-and-seek amid a hundred symbols, its poly-
chromy in ideals, which leads and lures the lads.
It is Wagner's genius for forming clouds, his
sweeps and swoops through the air, his ubiquity and
nullibiety—precisely the same qualities with which
Hegel led and lured in his time ! —Moreover in
the presence of Wagner's multifariousness, pleni-
tude and arbitrariness, they seem to themselves
justified—“saved. ” Tremulously they listen while
the great symbols in his art seem to make them-
selves heard from out the misty distance, with a
gentle roll of thunder, and they are not at all dis-
pleased if at times it gets a little grey, gruesome
and cold. Are they not one and all, like Wagner
himself, on quite intimate terms with bad weather,
with German weather | Wotan is their God : but
Wotan is the God of bad weather. . . . They are
right, how could these German youths—in their
present condition,-miss what we others, we
halcyonians, miss in Wagner? i. e. : la gaya scienza;
light feet, wit, fire, grave, grand logic, stellar danc-
ing, wanton intellectuality, the vibrating light of
the South, the calm sea—perfection. . . .
II.
—I have mentioned the sphere to which Wagner
belongs—certainly not to the history of music.
What, however, does he mean historically? —The
rise of the actor in music: a momentous event
which not only leads me to think but also to fear.
In a word: “Wagner and Liszt. ” Never yet
## p. 33 (#69) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 33
ſ
have the “uprightness” and “genuineness” of Tl
musicians been put to such a dangerous test. It is
glaringly obvious: great success, mob success is
no longer the achievement of the genuine,—in order
to get it a man must be an actor —Victor Hugo
and Richard Wagner—they both prove one and
the same thing: that in declining civilisations,
wherever the mob is allowed to decide, genuine-
ness becomes superfluous, prejudicial, unfavourable.
The actor, alone, can still kindle great enthusiasm. —
And thus it is his golden age which is now dawning,
—his and that of all those who are in any way
related to him. With drums and fifes, Wagner
marches at the head of all artists in declamation,
in display and virtuosity. He began by convincing_
the conductors of orchestras, the scene-shifters and
stage-singers, not to forget the orchestra:-he
“delivered” them from monotony. . . . The move-
ment that Wagner created has spread even to the
land of knowledge: whole sciences pertaining to
music are rising slowly, out of centuries of
scholasticism. As an example of what I mean,
let me point more particularly to Riemann's
services to rhythmics; he was the first who called
attention to the leading idea in punctuation—even
for music (unfortunately he did so with a bad
word; he called it “phrasing”)—All these people,
and I say it with gratitude, are the best, the most
respectable among Wagner's admirers—they have
a perfect right to honour Wagner. The same
instinct unites them with one another; in him
they recognise their highest type, and since he
has inflamed them with his own ardour they feel
3
## p. 34 (#70) ##############################################
34 THE CASE OF WAGNER
themselves transformed into power, even into great
power. In this quarter, if anywhere, Wagner's
influence has really been beneficent. Never before
has there been so much thinking, willing, and
industry in this sphere. Wagner endowed all
these artists with a new conscience: what they
now exact and obtain from themselves, they had
never exacted before Wagner's time—before then
they had been too modest. Another spirit prevails
on the stage since Wagner rules there: the most
difficult things are expected, blame is severe, praise
very scarce,—the good and the excellent have
become the rule. Taste is no longer necessary,
nor even is a good voice. Wagner is sung only
with ruined voices: this has a more “dramatic”
effect. Even talent is out of the question. Ex-
pressiveness at all costs, which is what the
Wagnerian ideal—the ideal of decadence—de-
mands, is hardly compatible with talent. All
that is required for this is virtue—that is to say,
training, automatism, “self-denial. ” Neither taste,
voices, nor gifts; Wagner's stage requires but one
thing: Germans / . . . The definition of a German:
an obedient man with long legs. . . . There is a
deep significance in the fact that the rise of
Wagner should have coincided with the rise of the
“Empire”: both phenomena are a proof of one
and the same thing—obedience and long legs. -
Never have people been more obedient, never have
they been so well ordered about. The conductors
of Wagnerian orchestras, more particularly, are
worthy of an age, which posterity will one day
call, with timid awe, the classical age of war.
## p. 35 (#71) ##############################################
A MUSICIAN'S PROBLEM 35
Wagner understood how to command; in this
respect, too, he was a great teacher. He com-
manded as a man who had exercised an inexorable
will over himself—as one who had practised lifelong
discipline: Wagner was, perhaps, the greatest º
ample of self-violence in the whole of the histo
of art (–even Alfieri, who in other respects is his
next-of-kin, is outdone by him. The note of a
Torinese).
I2.
This view, that our actors have become more
worthy of respect than heretofore, does not imply
that I believe them to have become less danger-
ous. . . . But who is in any doubt as to what I
want, as to what the three requisitions are con-
cerning which my wrath and my care and love
of art, have made me open my mouth on this
occasion?
That the stage should not become master of the arts.
That the actor should not become the corrupter of
the genuine.
That music should not become an art of lying.
*
FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.
|
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POSTSCRIPT
THE gravity of these last words allows me at
this point to introduce a few sentences out of an
unprinted essay which will at least leave no doubt
as to my earnestness in regard to this question.
The title of this essay is: “What Wagner has cost
us. ” -
One pays dearly for having been a follower of
Wagner. Even to-day a vague feeling that this
is so, still prevails. Even Wagner's success, his
triumph, did not uproot this feeling thoroughly.
But formerly it was strong, it was terrible; it was
a gloomy hate throughout almost three-quarters
of Wagner's life. The resistance which he met
with among us Germans cannot be too highly
valued or too highly honoured. People guarded
themselves against him as against an illness, not
with arguments—it is impossible to refute an ill-
ness—, but with obstruction, with mistrust, with
repugnance, with loathing, with sombre earnestness,
as though he were a great rampant danger. The
aesthetes gave themselves away when out of three
schools of German philosophy they waged an
absurd war against Wagner's principles with “ifs”
and “fors”—what did he care about principles,
even his own l—The Germans themselves had
enough instinctive good sense to dispense with
every “if” and “for” in this matter. An instinct
is weakened when it becomes conscious: for by
36
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