From 2888ceee57dfa6f2b8d93806745aae338bd0c625 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: kayos Date: Fri, 11 Jun 2021 18:02:14 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] fix src --- src.go | 23815 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++--------------------------- 1 file changed, 12214 insertions(+), 11601 deletions(-) diff --git a/src.go b/src.go index a36b246..bf3e45c 100644 --- a/src.go +++ b/src.go @@ -1,11705 +1,12318 @@ package main -// Src is A. A. Milne's "Once on a Time" as transcribed by Project Gutenberg. -const Src = `

-ONCE ON A TIME -

- -

-By -

- -

-A.A. Milne -

- -


- -

-DECORATED
-BY CHARLES
-ROBINSON -

- -
- -

-GROSSET & DUNLAP
-Publishers          New York
-By Arrangement with G. P. Putnam's Sons -

- -
-

[Illustration: Copyright page decoration of a dark-haired girl in medieval garb]

- -
- -
-Copyright, 1922 -
-by -
-A. A. Milne -
- -
- -
-

[Illustration: A young blonde girl in medieval garb]

- -

-PREFACE -

- -

-This book was written in 1915, for the amusement of my wife and myself -at a time when life was not very amusing; it was published at the end -of 1917; was reviewed, if at all, as one of a parcel, by some brisk -uncle from the Tiny Tots Department; and died quietly, without -seriously detracting from the interest which was being taken in the -World War, then in progress. -

- -

-It may be that the circumstances in which the book was written have -made me unduly fond of it. When, as sometimes happens, I am -introduced to a stranger who starts the conversation on the right -lines by praising, however insincerely, my books, I always say, "But -you have not read the best one." Nine times out of ten it is so. The -tenth takes a place in the family calendar; St. Michael or St. Agatha, -as the case may be, a red-letter or black-letter saint, according to -whether the book was bought or borrowed. But there are few such -saints, and both my publisher and I have the feeling (so common to -publishers and authors) that there ought to be more. So here comes -the book again, in a new dress, with new decorations, yet much, as far -as I am concerned, the same book, making the same appeal to me; but, -let us hope, a new appeal, this time, to others. -

- -

-For whom, then, is the book intended? That is the trouble. Unless I -can say, "For those, young or old, who like the things which I like," -I find it difficult to answer. Is it a children's book? Well, what -do we mean by that? Is The Wind in the Willows a children's book? -Is Alice in Wonderland? Is Treasure Island? These are -masterpieces which we read with pleasure as children, but with how -much more pleasure when we are grown-up. In any case what do we mean -by "children"? A boy of three, a girl of six, a boy of ten, a girl of -fourteen—are they all to like the same thing? And is a book -"suitable for a boy of twelve" any more likely to please a boy of -twelve than a modern novel is likely to please a man of thirty-seven; -even if the novel be described truly as "suitable for a man of -thirty-seven"? I confess that I cannot grapple with these difficult -problems. -

- -

-But I am very sure of this: that no one can write a book which -children will like, unless he write it for himself first. That being -so, I shall say boldly that this is a story for grown-ups. How -grown-up I did not realise until I received a letter from an unknown -reader a few weeks after its first publication; a letter which said -that he was delighted with my clever satires of the Kaiser, Mr. Lloyd -George and Mr. Asquith, but he could not be sure which of the -characters were meant to be Mr. Winston Churchill and Mr. Bonar Law. -Would I tell him on the enclosed postcard? I replied that they were -thinly disguised on the title-page as Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton. In -fact, it is not that sort of book. -

- -

-But, as you see, I am still finding it difficult to explain just what -sort of book it is. Perhaps no explanation is necessary. Read in it -what you like; read it to whomever you like; be of what age you like; -it can only fall into one of two classes. Either you will enjoy it, -or you won't. -

- -

-It is that sort of book. -

- -

-A. A. Milne. -

- -

- -

[Illustration: Contents page decoration of a child bent over a large boot]

- -

- -

-CONTENTS -

- -

-I.—The King of Euralia has a Visitor to Breakfast -

- -

-II.—The Chancellor of Barodia has a Long Walk Home -

- -

-III.—The King of Euralia Draws his Sword -

- -

-IV.—The Princess Hyacinth Leaves it to the Countess -

- -

-V.—Belvane Indulges her Hobby -

- -

-VI.—There are no Wizards in Barodia -

- -

-VII.—The Princess Receives a Letter and Writes One -

- -

-VIII.—Prince Udo Sleeps Badly -

- -

-IX.—They are Afraid of Udo -

- -

-X.—Charlotte Patacake Astonishes the Critics -

- -

-XI.—Watercress Seems to go with the Ears -

- -

-XII.—We Decide to Write to Udo's Father -

- -

-XIII.—"Pink" Rhymes with "Think" -

- -

-XIV.—"Why Can't you be like Wiggs?" -

- -

-XV.—There is a Lover Waiting for Hyacinth -

- -

-XVI.—Belvane Enjoys Herself -

- -

-XVII.—The King of Barodia Drops the Whisker Habit -

- -

-XVIII.—The Veteran of the Forest Entertains Two Very Young People -

- -

-XIX.—Udo Behaves Like a Gentleman -

- -

-XX.—Coronel Knows a Good Story when he Hears it -

- -

-XXI.—A Serpent Coming after Udo -

- -

-XXII.—The Seventeen Volumes go back Again -

-

-

-[Illustration: A dark-haired girl in medieval garb in a pastoral scene]

- -

- -

-ILLUSTRATIONS -

- -

- -A Map of Euralia showing the Adjacent Country of Barodia and the -far-distant Araby - -

- -

- -He was a Man of Simple Tastes - -

- -

- -"Most extraordinary," said the King -

- -

- -He found the King nursing a Bent Whisker and in the very Vilest of Tempers - -

- -

- -"Try it on me," cried the Countess -

- -

- -Five Times he had come back to give her his Last Instructions -

- -

- -Armed to the Teeth, Amazon after Amazon marched by -

- -

- -When the Respective Armies returned to Camp they found Their Majesties -asleep -

- -

- -The Rabbit was gone, and there was a Fairy in front of her -

- -

- -As Evening fell they came to a Woodman's Cottage at the Foot of a High -Hill -

- -

- -"Coronel, here I am," said Udo pathetically, and he stepped out -

- -

- -Twenty-one Minutes later Henrietta Crossbuns was acknowledging a Bag -of Gold - -

- -

- -Princess Hyacinth gave a Shriek and faltered slowly backwards - -

- -

- -"Now we can talk," said Hyacinth - -

- -

- -He forgot his Manners, and made a Jump towards her - -

- -

- -She glided gracefully behind the Sundial in a Pretty Affectation of -Alarm - -

- -

- -When anybody of Superior Station or Age came into the Room she rose -and curtsied - -

- -

- -And then she danced - -

- -

- -"Good Morning," said Belvane - -

- -

- -The Tent seemed to swim before his Eyes, and he knew no more - -

- -

- -She turned round and went off daintily down the Hill - -

- -

- -Let me present to you my friend the Duke Coronel - -

- -

- -As the Towers of the Castle came in sight, Merriwig drew a Deep Breath -of Happiness - -

- -

- -Belvane leading the Way with her Finger to her Lips - -

- -

- -Merriwig following with an Exaggerated Caution - -

- -

- -He was a Pleasant-looking Person, with a Round Clean-shaven Face - -

- -

- -Roger Scurvilegs - -

-

Illustration: End of Illustration List Decoration

- -


- -

-Illustration: Page 1 Decoration -

-

- -

- -[Frontispiece: A Map of Euralia showing the Adjacent Country of Barodia and the far-distant Araby]

- -


- -

- - -[Illustration: He was a Man of Simple Tastes] +const Src = ` + + + + + + + + + + + + + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Birth of Tragedy, or Hellenism and Pessimism, by Friedrich Nietzsche. + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Birth of Tragedy, by Friedrich Nietzsche
+
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: The Birth of Tragedy
+
+       or Hellenism and Pessimism
+
+
+
+Author: Friedrich Nietzsche
+
+
+
+Editor: Oscar Levy
+
+
+
+Translator: William August Haussmann
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 4, 2016 [EBook #51356]
+
+
+
+Language: English
+
+
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org
+
+(Images generously made available by the Hathi Trust.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ + + + + +
+ + + +
+ + + +

THE

+ + + +

BIRTH OF TRAGEDY

+ + + +

OR

+ + + +

HELLENISM AND PESSIMISM

+ + + +

By

+ + + +

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

+ + + +

TRANSLATED BY

+ + + +

WM. A. HAUSSMANN, PH.D.

+ + + +
+ + + +
+ + + +

The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche

+ + + +
The First Complete and Authorised English Translation
+ + + +

Edited by Dr Oscar Levy

+ + + +

Volume One

+ + + + + +
T.N. FOULIS
+ + + +
13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET
+ + + +
EDINBURGH: AND LONDON
+ + + +
1910
+ +
+ + + + + +

+ +CONTENTS.
+ +BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION
+ +AN ATTEMPT AT SELF-CRITICISM
+ +FOREWORD TO RICHARD WAGNER
+ +THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY +

-

-CHAPTER I -

- -

-THE KING OF EURALIA HAS A VISITOR TO BREAKFAST -

- - -

-King Merriwig of Euralia sat at breakfast on his castle walls. He -lifted the gold cover from the gold dish in front of him, selected a -trout and conveyed it carefully to his gold plate. He was a man of -simple tastes, but when you have an aunt with the newly acquired gift -of turning anything she touches to gold, you must let her practise -sometimes. In another age it might have been fretwork. -

- -

-"Ah," said the King, "here you are, my dear." He searched for his -napkin, but the Princess had already kissed him lightly on the top of -the head, and was sitting in her place opposite to him. -

- -

-"Good morning, Father," she said; "I'm a little late, aren't I? I've -been riding in the forest." -

- -

-"Any adventures?" asked the King casually. -

- -

-"Nothing, except it's a beautiful morning." -

- -

-"Ah, well, perhaps the country isn't what it was. Now when I was a -young man, you simply couldn't go into the forest without an adventure -of some sort. The extraordinary things one encountered! Witches, -giants, dwarfs——. It was there that I first met your mother," he -added thoughtfully. -

- -

-"I wish I remembered my mother," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-The King coughed and looked at her a little nervously. -

- -

-"Seventeen years ago she died, Hyacinth, when you were only six months -old. I have been wondering lately whether I haven't been a little -remiss in leaving you motherless so long." -

- -

-The Princess looked puzzled. "But it wasn't your fault, dear, that -mother died." -

- -

-"Oh, no, no, I'm not saying that. As you know, a dragon carried her -off and—well, there it was. But supposing"—he looked at her -shyly—"I had married again." -

- -

-The Princess was startled. -

- -

-"Who?" she asked. -

- -

-The King peered into his flagon. "Well," he said, "there are -people." -

- -

-"If it had been somebody very nice," said the Princess wistfully, -"it might have been rather lovely." -

- -

-The King gazed earnestly at the outside of his flagon. -

- -

-"Why 'might have been?'" he said. -

- -

-The Princess was still puzzled. "But I'm grown up," she said; "I -don't want a mother so much now." -

- -

-The King turned his flagon round and studied the other side of it. -

- -

-"A mother's—er—tender hand," he said, "is—er—never——" and then -the outrageous thing happened. -

- -

-It was all because of a birthday present to the King of Barodia, and -the present was nothing less than a pair of seven-league boots. The -King being a busy man, it was a week or more before he had an -opportunity of trying those boots. Meanwhile he used to talk about -them at meals, and he would polish them up every night before he went -to bed. When the great day came for the first trial of them to be -made, he took a patronising farewell of his wife and family, ignored -the many eager noses pressed against the upper windows of the Palace, -and sailed off. The motion, as perhaps you know, is a little -disquieting at first, but one soon gets used to it. After that it is -fascinating. He had gone some two thousand miles before he realised -that there might be a difficulty about finding his way back. The -difficulty proved at least as great as he had anticipated. For the -rest of that day he toured backwards and forwards across the country; -and it was by the merest accident that a very angry King shot in -through an open pantry window in the early hours of the morning. He -removed his boots and went softly to bed. . . . -

- -

-It was, of course, a lesson to him. He decided that in the future he -must proceed by a recognised route, sailing lightly from landmark to -landmark. Such a route his Geographers prepared for him—an early -morning constitutional, of three hundred miles or so, to be taken ten -times before breakfast. He gave himself a week in which to recover -his nerve and then started out on the first of them. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-Now the Kingdom of Euralia adjoined that of Barodia, but whereas -Barodia was a flat country, Euralia was a land of hills. It was -natural then that the Court Geographers, in search of landmarks, -should have looked towards Euralia; and over Euralia accordingly, -about the time when cottage and castle alike were breakfasting, the -King of Barodia soared and dipped and soared and dipped again. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-"A mother's tender hand," said the King of Euralia, -"is—er—never—good gracious! What's that?" -

- -

-There was a sudden rush of air; something came for a moment between -his Majesty and the sun; and then all was quiet again. -

- -

-"What was it?" asked Hyacinth, slightly alarmed. -

- -

-"Most extraordinary," said the King. "It left in my mind an -impression of ginger whiskers and large boots. Do we know anybody -like that?" -

- -

-"The King of Barodia," said Hyacinth, "has red whiskers, but I don't -know about his boots." -

- -

-"But what could he have been doing up there? Unless——" -

- -

-There was another rush of wind in the opposite direction; once more -the sun was obscured, and this time, plain for a moment for all to -see, appeared the rapidly dwindling back view of the King of Barodia -on his way home to breakfast. -

- -

-Merriwig rose with dignity. -

- -

-"You're quite right, Hyacinth," he said sternly; "it was the King of -Barodia." -

- -

-Hyacinth looked troubled. -

- -

-"He oughtn't to come over anybody's breakfast table quite so quickly -as that. Ought he, Father?" -

- -

-"A lamentable display of manners, my dear. I shall withdraw now and -compose a stiff note to him. The amenities must be observed." -

- -

-Looking as severe as a naturally jovial face would permit him, and -wondering a little if he had pronounced "amenities" right, he strode -to the library. -

- -

-The library was his Majesty's favourite apartment. Here in the -mornings he would discuss affairs of state with his Chancellor, or -receive any distinguished visitors who were to come to his kingdom in -search of adventure. Here in the afternoon, with a copy of What to -say to a Wizard or some such book taken at random from the shelves, -he would give himself up to meditation. -

- -

-And it was the distinguished visitors of the morning who gave him most -to think about in the afternoon. There were at this moment no fewer -than seven different Princes engaged upon seven different enterprises, -to whom, in the event of a successful conclusion, he had promised the -hand of Hyacinth and half his kingdom. No wonder he felt that she -needed the guiding hand of a mother. -

- -

-The stiff note to Barodia was not destined to be written. He was -still hesitating between two different kinds of nib, when the door was -flung open and the fateful name of the Countess Belvane was announced. -

- -

-The Countess Belvane! What can I say which will bring home to you -that wonderful, terrible, fascinating woman? Mastered as she was by -overweening ambition, utterly unscrupulous in her methods of achieving -her purpose, none the less her adorable humanity betrayed itself in a -passion for diary-keeping and a devotion to the simpler forms of -lyrical verse. That she is the villain of the piece I know well; in -his Euralia Past and Present the eminent historian, Roger -Scurvilegs, does not spare her; but that she had her great qualities I -should be the last to deny. -

- -

-She had been writing poetry that morning, and she wore green. She -always wore green when the Muse was upon her: a pleasing habit which, -whether as a warning or an inspiration, modern poets might do well to -imitate. She carried an enormous diary under her arm; and in her mind -several alternative ways of putting down her reflections on her way to -the Palace. -

- -

-"Good morning, dear Countess," said the King, rising only too gladly -from his nibs; "an early visit." -

- -

-"You don't mind, your Majesty?" said the Countess anxiously. "There -was a point in our conversation yesterday about which I was not quite -certain——" -

- -

-"What were we talking about yesterday?" -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty," said the Countess, "affairs of state," and she -gave him that wicked, innocent, impudent, and entirely scandalous look -which he never could resist, and you couldn't either for that matter. -

- -

-"Affairs of state, of course," smiled the King. -

- -

-"Why, I made a special note of it in my diary." -

- -

-She laid down the enormous volume and turned lightly over the pages. -

- -

-"Here we are! 'Thursday. His Majesty did me the honour to consult -me about the future of his daughter, the Princess Hyacinth. Remained -to tea and was very——' I can't quite make this word out." -

- -

-"Let me look," said the King, his rubicund face becoming yet more -rubicund. "It looks like 'charming,'" he said casually. -

- -

-"Fancy!" said Belvane. "Fancy my writing that! I put down just what -comes into my head at the time, you know." She made a gesture with -her hand indicative of some one who puts down just what comes into her -head at the time, and returned to her diary. "'Remained to tea, and -was very charming. Mused afterwards on the mutability of life!'" She -looked up at him with wide-open eyes. "I often muse when I'm alone," -she said. -

- -

-The King still hovered over the diary. -

- -

-"Have you any more entries like—like that last one? May I look?" -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty! I'm afraid it's quite private." She closed the -book quickly. -

- -

-"I just thought I saw some poetry," said the King. -

- -

-"Just a little ode to a favourite linnet. It wouldn't interest your -Majesty." -

- -

-"I adore poetry," said the King, who had himself written a rhymed -couplet which could be said either forwards or backwards, and in the -latter position was useful for removing enchantments. According to -the eminent historian, Roger Scurvilegs, it had some vogue in Euralia -and went like this: -

- -

- "Bo, boll, bill, bole.
-  Wo, woll, will, wole."
-

- -

-A pleasing idea, temperately expressed. -

- -

-The Countess, of course, was only pretending. Really she was longing -to read it. "It's quite a little thing," she said. -

- -

- "Hail to thee, blithe linnet,
-     Bird thou clearly art,
-  That from bush or in it
-     Pourest thy full heart!
-  And leads the feathered choir in song
-     Taking the treble part."
-

- -

-"Beautiful," said the King, and one must agree with him. Many years -after, another poet called Shelley plagiarised the idea, but handled -it in a more artificial, and, to my way of thinking, decidedly -inferior manner. -

- -

-"Was it a real bird?" said the King. -

- -

-"An old favourite." -

- -

-"Was it pleased about it?" -

- -

-"Alas, your Majesty, it died without hearing it." -

- -

-"Poor bird!" said his Majesty; "I think it would have liked it." -

- -

-Meanwhile Hyacinth, innocent of the nearness of a mother, remained on -the castle walls and tried to get on with her breakfast. But she made -little progress with it. After all, it is annoying continually to -look up from your bacon, or whatever it is, and see a foreign monarch -passing overhead. Eighteen more times the King of Barodia took -Hyacinth in his stride. At the end of the performance, feeling rather -giddy, she went down to her father. -

- -

-She found him alone in the library, a foolish smile upon his face, but -no sign of a letter to Barodia in front of him. -

- -

-"Have you sent the Note yet?" she asked. -

- -

-"Note? Note?" he said, bewildered, "what—oh, you mean the Stiff Note -to the King of Barodia? I'm just planning it, my love. The exact -shade of stiffness, combined with courtesy, is a little difficult to -hit." -

- -

-"I shouldn't be too courteous," said Hyacinth; "he came over eighteen -more times after you'd gone." -

- -

-"Eighteen, eighteen, eight—my dear, it's outrageous." -

- -

-"I've never had such a crowded breakfast before." -

- -

-"It's positively insulting, Hyacinth. This is no occasion for Notes. -We will talk to him in a language that he will understand." -

- -

-And he went out to speak to the Captain of his Archers. -

-

-[Illustration: Decoration of a pile of books] + + + + + +

+ + + + + +

INTRODUCTION.[1]

+ + + + + +

Frederick Nietzsche was born at Röcken near Lützen, in the Prussian + +province of Saxony, on the 15th of October 1844, at 10 a.m. The day + +happened to be the anniversary of the birth of Frederick-William IV., + +then King of Prussia, and the peal of the local church-bells which was + +intended to celebrate this event, was, by a happy coincidence, just + +timed to greet my brother on his entrance into the world. In 1841, + +at the time when our father was tutor to the Altenburg Princesses, + +Theresa of Saxe-Altenburg, Elizabeth, Grand Duchess of Olden-burg, and + +Alexandra, Grand Duchess Constantine of Russia, he had had the honour + +of being presented to his witty and pious sovereign. The meeting seems + +to have impressed both parties very favourably; for, very shortly + +after it had taken place, our father received his living at Röcken "by + +supreme command." His joy may well be imagined, therefore, when a first + +son was born to him on his beloved[Pg i] and august patron's birthday, and + +at the christening ceremony he spoke as follows:—"Thou blessed month + +of October!—for many years the most decisive events in my life have + +occurred within thy thirty-one days, and now I celebrate the greatest + +and most glorious of them all by baptising my little boy! O blissful + +moment! O exquisite festival! O unspeakably holy duty! In the Lord's + +name I bless thee!—With all my heart I utter these words: Bring me + +this, my beloved child, that I may consecrate it unto the Lord. My son, + +Frederick William, thus shalt thou be named on earth, as a memento of + +my royal benefactor on whose birthday thou wast born!"

+ + + +

Our father was thirty-one years of age, and our mother not quite + +nineteen, when my brother was born. Our mother, who was the daughter + +of a clergyman, was good-looking and healthy, and was one of a very + +large family of sons and daughters. Our paternal grandparents, the + +Rev. Oehler and his wife, in Pobles, were typically healthy people. + +Strength, robustness, lively dispositions, and a cheerful outlook on + +life, were among the qualities which every one was pleased to observe + +in them. Our grandfather Oehler was a bright, clever man, and quite + +the old style of comfortable country parson, who thought it no sin to + +go hunting. He scarcely had a day's illness in his life, and would + +certainly not have met with his end as early as he did—that is to say, + +before his seventieth year—if his careless disregard of all caution, + +where his health was concerned, had not led to his catching a severe + +and fatal cold. In regard to our[Pg ii] grand-mother Oehler, who died in her + +eighty-second year, all that can be said is, that if all German women + +were possessed of the health she enjoyed, the German nation would excel + +all others from the standpoint of vitality. She bore our grandfather + +eleven children; gave each of them the breast for nearly the whole of + +its first year, and reared them all It is said that the sight of these + +eleven children, at ages varying from nineteen years to one month, with + +their powerful build, rosy cheeks, beaming eyes, and wealth of curly + +locks, provoked the admiration of all visitors. Of course, despite + +their extraordinarily good health, the life of this family was not + +by any means all sunshine. Each of the children was very spirited, + +wilful, and obstinate, and it was therefore no simple matter to keep + +them in order. Moreover, though they always showed the utmost respect + +and most implicit obedience to their parents—even as middle-aged + +men and women—misunderstandings between themselves were of constant + +occurrence. Our Oehler grandparents were fairly well-to-do; for our + +grandmother hailed from a very old family, who had been extensive + +land-owners in the neighbourhood of Zeitz for centuries, and her father + +owned the baronial estate of Wehlitz and a magnificent seat near Zeitz + +in Pacht. When she married, her father gave her carriages and horses, + +a coachman, a cook, and a kitchenmaid, which for the wife of a German + +minister was then, and is still, something quite exceptional. As a + +result of the wars in the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, + +our great-grandfather lost the greater part of his property.

+ + + +

[Pg iii]

+ + + +

Our father's family was also in fairly comfortable circumstances, + +and likewise very large. Our grandfather Dr. Nietzsche (D.D. and + +Superintendent) married twice, and had in all twelve children, of whom + +three died young. Our grandfather on this side, whom I never knew, + +must certainly have been a distinguished, dignified, very learned + +and reserved man; his second wife—our beloved grandmother—was an + +active-minded, intelligent, and exceptionally good-natured woman. + +The whole of our father's family, which I only got to know when they + +were very advanced in years, were remarkable for their great power of + +self-control, their lively interest in intellectual matters, and a + +strong sense of family unity, which manifested itself both in their + +splendid readiness to help one another and in their very excellent + +relations with each other. Our father was the youngest son, and, thanks + +to his uncommonly lovable disposition, together with other gifts, which + +only tended to become more marked as he grew older, he was quite the + +favourite of the family. Blessed with a thoroughly sound constitution, + +as all averred who knew him at the convent-school in Rossleben, at + +the University, or later at the ducal court of Altenburg, he was tall + +and slender, possessed an undoubted gift for poetry and real musical + +talent, and was moreover a man of delicate sensibilities, full of + +consideration for his whole family, and distinguished in his manners.

+ + + +

My brother often refers to his Polish descent, and in later years + +he even instituted research-work with the view of establishing it, + +which met with partial success. I know nothing definite concerning + +these[Pg iv] investigations, because a large number of valuable documents + +were unfortunately destroyed after his breakdown in Turin. The family + +tradition was that a certain Polish nobleman Nicki (pronounced Nietzky) + +had obtained the special favour of Augustus the Strong, King of + +Poland, and had received the rank of Earl from him. When, however, + +Stanislas Leszcysski the Pole became king, our supposed ancestor became + +involved in a conspiracy in favour of the Saxons and Protestants. He + +was sentenced to death; but, taking flight, according to the evidence + +of the documents, he was ultimately befriended by a certain Earl of + +Brühl, who gave him a small post in an obscure little provincial town. + +Occasionally our aged aunts would speak of our great-grandfather + +Nietzsche, who was said to have died in his ninety-first year, and + +words always seemed to fail them when they attempted to describe his + +handsome appearance, good breeding, and vigour. Our ancestors, both on + +the Nietzsche and the Oehler side, were very long-lived. Of the four + +pairs of great-grandparents, one great-grandfather reached the age of + +ninety, five great-grandmothers and-fathers died between eighty-two and + +eighty-six years of age, and two only failed to reach their seventieth + +year.

+ + + +

The sorrow which hung as a cloud over our branch of the family + +was our father's death, as the result of a heavy fall, at the age + +of thirty-eight. One night, upon leaving some friends whom he had + +accompanied home, he was met at the door of the vicarage by our little + +dog. The little animal must have got between his feet, for he stumbled + +and fell[Pg v] backwards down seven stone steps on to the paving-stones + +of the vicarage courtyard. As a result of this fall, he was laid up + +with concussion of the brain, and, after a lingering illness, which + +lasted eleven months, he died on the 30th of July 1849. The early + +death of our beloved and highly-gifted father spread gloom over + +the whole of our childhood. In 1850 our mother withdrew with us to + +Naumburg on the Saale, where she took up her abode with our widowed + +grandmother Nietzsche; and there she brought us up with Spartan + +severity and simplicity, which, besides being typical of the period, + +was quite de rigeur in her family. Of course, Grand-mamma Nietzsche + +helped somewhat to temper her daughter-in-law's severity, and in this + +respect our Oehler grandparents, who were less rigorous with us, + +their eldest grandchildren, than with their own children, were also + +very influential. Grandfather Oehler was the first who seems to have + +recognised the extraordinary talents of his eldest grandchild.

+ + + +

From his earliest childhood upwards, my brother was always strong + +and healthy; he often declared that he must have been taken for a + +peasant-boy throughout his childhood and youth, as he was so plump, + +brown, and rosy. The thick fair hair which fell picturesquely over his + +shoulders tended somewhat to modify his robust appearance. Had he not + +possessed those wonderfully beautiful, large, and expressive eyes, + +however, and had he not been so very ceremonious in his manner, neither + +his teachers nor his relatives would ever have noticed anything at all + +remarkable about the boy; for he was both modest and reserved.

+ + + +

[Pg vi]

+ + + +

He received his early schooling at a preparatory school, and later + +at a grammar school in Naumburg. In the autumn of 1858, when he was + +fourteen years of age, he entered the Pforta school, so famous for the + +scholars it has produced. There, too, very severe discipline prevailed, + +and much was exacted from the pupils, with the view of inuring them + +to great mental and physical exertions. Thus, if my brother seems + +to lay particular stress upon the value of rigorous training, free + +from all sentimentality, it should be remembered that he speaks from + +experience in this respect. At Pforta he followed the regular school + +course, and he did not enter a university until the comparatively late + +age of twenty. His extraordinary gifts manifested themselves chiefly + +in his independent and private studies and artistic efforts. As a boy + +his musical talent had already been so noticeable, that he himself + +and other competent judges were doubtful as to whether he ought not + +perhaps to devote himself altogether to music. It is, however, worth + +noting that everything he did in his later years, whether in Latin, + +Greek, or German work, bore the stamp of perfection—subject of course + +to the limitation imposed upon him by his years. His talents came very + +suddenly to the fore, because he had allowed them to grow for such a + +long time in concealment. His very first performance in philology, + +executed while he was a student under Ritschl, the famous philologist, + +was also typical of him in this respect, seeing that it was ordered + +to be printed for the Rheinische Museum. Of course this was done + +amid general and grave expressions of doubt; for, as Dr. Ritschl often + +declared,[Pg vii] it was an unheard-of occurrence for a student in his third + +term to prepare such an excellent treatise.

+ + + +

Being a great lover of out-door exercise, such as swimming, skating, + +and walking, he developed into a very sturdy lad. Rohde gives the + +following description of him as a student: with his healthy complexion, + +his outward and inner cleanliness, his austere chastity and his solemn + +aspect, he was the image of that delightful youth described by Adalbert + +Stifter.

+ + + +

Though as a child he was always rather serious, as a lad and a man he + +was ever inclined to see the humorous side of things, while his whole + +being, and everything he said or did, was permeated by an extraordinary + +harmony. He belonged to the very few who could control even a bad mood + +and conceal it from others. All his friends are unanimous in their + +praise of his exceptional evenness of temper and behaviour, and his + +warm, hearty, and pleasant laugh that seemed to come from the very + +depths of his benevolent and affectionate nature. In him it might + +therefore be said, nature had produced a being who in body and spirit + +was a harmonious whole: his unusual intellect was fully in keeping with + +his uncommon bodily strength.

+ + + +

The only abnormal thing about him, and something which we both + +inherited from our father, was short-sightedness, and this was + +very much aggravated in my brother's case, even in his earliest + +schooldays, owing to that indescribable anxiety to learn which always + +characterised him. When one listens to accounts given by his friends + +and schoolfellows, one is startled by the multiplicity of his studies + +even in his schooldays.

+ + + +

[Pg viii]

+ + + +

In the autumn of 1864, he began his university life in Bonn, and + +studied philology and theology; at the end of six months he gave up + +theology, and in the autumn of 1865 followed his famous teacher Ritschl + +to the University of Leipzig. There he became an ardent philologist, + +and diligently sought to acquire a masterly grasp of this branch of + +knowledge. But in this respect it would be unfair to forget that the + +school of Pforta, with its staff of excellent teachers—scholars + +that would have adorned the chairs of any University—had already + +afforded the best of preparatory trainings to any one intending to + +take up philology as a study, more particularly as it gave all pupils + +ample scope to indulge any individual tastes they might have for any + +particular branch of ancient history. The last important Latin thesis + +which my brother wrote for the Landes-Schule, Pforta, dealt with + +the Megarian poet Theognis, and it was in the rôle of a lecturer on + +this very subject that, on the 18th January 1866, he made his first + +appearance in public before the philological society he had helped to + +found in Leipzig. The paper he read disclosed his investigations on + +the subject of Theognis the moralist and aristocrat, who, as is well + +known, described and dismissed the plebeians of his time in terms of + +the heartiest contempt The aristocratic ideal, which was always so + +dear to my brother, thus revealed itself for the first time. Moreover, + +curiously enough, it was precisely this scientific thesis which was + +the cause of Ritschl's recognition of my brother and fondness for him.

+ + + +

The whole of his Leipzig days proved of the[Pg ix] utmost importance to my + +brother's career. There he was plunged into the very midst of a torrent + +of intellectual influences which found an impressionable medium in + +the fiery youth, and to which he eagerly made himself accessible. + +He did not, however, forget to discriminate among them, but tested + +and criticised the currents of thought he encountered, and selected + +accordingly. It is certainly of great importance to ascertain what + +those influences precisely were to which he yielded, and how long + +they maintained their sway over him, and it is likewise necessary to + +discover exactly when the matured mind threw off these fetters in order + +to work out its own salvation.

+ + + +

The influences that exercised power over him in those days may be + +described in the three following terms: Hellenism, Schopenhauer, + +Wagner. His love of Hellenism certainly led him to philology; but, as + +a matter of fact, what concerned him most was to obtain a wide view + +of things in general, and this he hoped to derive from that science; + +philology in itself, with his splendid method and thorough way of going + +to work, served him only as a means to an end.

+ + + +

If Hellenism was the first strong influence which already in Pforta + +obtained a sway over my brother, in the winter of 1865-66, a completely + +new, and therefore somewhat subversive, influence was introduced into + +his life with Schopenhauer's philosophy. When he reached Leipzig in + +the autumn of 1865, he was very downcast; for the experiences that + +had befallen him during his one year of student life in Bonn had + +deeply depressed him. He had[Pg x] sought at first to adapt himself to his + +surroundings there, with the hope of ultimately elevating them to his + +lofty views on things; but both these efforts proved vain, and now he + +had come to Leipzig with the purpose of framing his own manner of life. + +It can easily be imagined how the first reading of Schopenhauer's The + +World as Will and Idea worked upon this man, still stinging from the + +bitterest experiences and disappointments. He writes: "Here I saw a + +mirror in which I espied the world, life, and my own nature depicted + +with frightful grandeur." As my brother, from his very earliest + +childhood, had always missed both the parent and the educator through + +our father's untimely death, he began to regard Schopenhauer with + +almost filial love and respect. He did not venerate him quite as other + +men did; Schopenhauer's personality was what attracted and enchanted + +him. From the first he was never blind to the faults in his master's + +system, and in proof of this we have only to refer to an essay he + +wrote in the autumn of 1867, which actually contains a criticism of + +Schopenhauer's philosophy.

+ + + +

Now, in the autumn of 1865, to these two influences, Hellenism and + +Schopenhauer, a third influence was added—one which was to prove + +the strongest ever exercised over my brother—and it began with his + +personal introduction to Richard Wagner. He was introduced to Wagner by + +the latter's sister, Frau Professor Brockhaus, and his description of + +their first meeting, contained in a letter to Erwin Rohde, is really + +most affecting. For years, that is to say, from the time Billow's[Pg xi] + +arrangement of Tristan and Isolde for the pianoforte, had appeared, + +he had already been a passionate admirer of Wagner's music; but now + +that the artist himself entered upon the scene of his life, with the + +whole fascinating strength of his strong will, my brother felt that he + +was in the presence of a being whom he, of all modern men, resembled + +most in regard to force of character.

+ + + +

Again, in the case of Richard Wagner, my brother, from the first, laid + +the utmost stress upon the man's personality, and could only regard + +his works and views as an expression of the artist's whole being, + +despite the fact that he by no means understood every one of those + +works at that time. My brother was the first who ever manifested such + +enthusiastic affection for Schopenhauer and Wagner, and he was also the + +first of that numerous band of young followers who ultimately inscribed + +the two great names upon their banner. Whether Schopenhauer and Wagner + +ever really corresponded to the glorified pictures my brother painted + +of them, both in his letters and other writings, is a question which we + +can no longer answer in the affirmative. Perhaps what he saw in them + +was only what he himself wished to be some day.

+ + + +

The amount of work my brother succeeded in accomplishing, during his + +student days, really seems almost incredible. When we examine his + +record for the years 1865-67, we can scarcely believe it refers to only + +two years' industry, for at a guess no one would hesitate to suggest + +four years at least. But in those days, as he himself[Pg xii] declares, he + +still possessed the constitution of a bear. He knew neither what + +headaches nor indigestion meant, and, despite his short sight, his eyes + +were able to endure the greatest strain without giving him the smallest + +trouble. That is why, regardless of seriously interrupting his studies, + +he was so glad at the thought of becoming a soldier in the forthcoming + +autumn of 1867; for he was particularly anxious to discover some means + +of employing his bodily strength.

+ + + +

He discharged his duties as a soldier with the utmost mental and + +physical freshness, was the crack rider among the recruits of his year, + +and was sincerely sorry when, owing to an accident, he was compelled to + +leave the colours before the completion of his service. As a result of + +this accident he had his first dangerous illness.

+ + + +

While mounting his horse one day, the beast, which was an uncommonly + +restive one, suddenly reared, and, causing him to strike his chest + +sharply against the pommel of the saddle, threw him to the ground. My + +brother then made a second attempt to mount, and succeeded this time, + +notwithstanding the fact that he had severely sprained and torn two + +muscles in his chest, and had seriously bruised the adjacent ribs. For + +a whole day he did his utmost to pay no heed to the injury, and to + +overcome the pain it caused him; but in the end he only swooned, and a + +dangerously acute inflammation of the injured tissues was the result. + +Ultimately he was obliged to consult the famous specialist, Professor + +Volkmann, in Halle, who quickly put him right.

+ + + +

[Pg xiii]

+ + + +

In October 1868, my brother returned to his studies in Leipzig with + +double joy. These were his plans: to get his doctor's degree as soon as + +possible; to proceed to Paris, Italy, and Greece, make a lengthy stay + +in each place, and then to return to Leipzig in order to settle there + +as a privat docent. All these plans were, however, suddenly frustrated + +owing to his premature call to the University of Bale, where he was + +invited to assume the duties of professor. Some of the philological + +essays he had written in his student days, and which were published + +by the Rheinische Museum, had attracted the attention of the + +Educational Board at Bale. Ratsherr Wilhelm Vischer, as representing + +this body, appealed to Ritschl for fuller information. Now Ritschl, + +who had early recognised my brother's extraordinary talents, must have + +written a letter of such enthusiastic praise ("Nietzsche is a genius: + +he can do whatever he chooses to put his mind to"), that one of the + +more cautious members of the council is said to have observed: "If + +the proposed candidate be really such a genius, then it were better + +did we not appoint him; for, in any case, he would only stay a short + +time at the little University of Bale." My brother ultimately accepted + +the appointment, and, in view of his published philological works, + +he was immediately granted the doctor's degree by the University of + +Leipzig. He was twenty-four years and six months old when he took up + +his position as professor in Bale,—and it was with a heavy heart that + +he proceeded there, for he knew "the golden[Pg xiv] period of untrammelled + +activity" must cease. He was, however, inspired by the deep wish of + +being able "to transfer to his pupils some of that Schopenhauerian + +earnestness which is stamped on the brow of the sublime man." "I + +should like to be something more than a mere trainer of capable + +philologists: the present generation of teachers, the care of the + +growing broods,—all this is in my mind. If we must live, let us at + +least do so in such wise that others may bless our life once we have + +been peacefully delivered from its toils."

+ + + +

When I look back upon that month of May 1869, and ask both of friends + +and of myself, what the figure of this youthful University professor + +of four-and-twenty meant to the world at that time, the reply is + +naturally, in the first place: that he was one of Ritschl's best + +pupils; secondly, that he was an exceptionally capable exponent of + +classical antiquity with a brilliant career before him; and thirdly, + +that he was a passionate adorer of Wagner and Schopenhauer. But no one + +has any idea of my brother's independent attitude to the science he + +had selected, to his teachers and to his ideals, and he deceived both + +himself and us when he passed as a "disciple" who really shared all the + +views of his respected master.

+ + + +

On the 28th May 1869, my brother delivered his inaugural address + +at Bale University, and it is said to have deeply impressed the + +authorities. The subject of the address was "Homer and Classical + +Philology."

+ + + +

Musing deeply, the worthy councillors and[Pg xv] professors walked homeward. + +What had they just heard? A young scholar discussing the very + +justification of his own science in a cool and philosophically critical + +spirit! A man able to impart so much artistic glamour to his subject, + +that the once stale and arid study of philology suddenly struck + +them—and they were certainly not impressionable men—as the messenger + +of the gods: "and just as the Muses descended upon the dull and + +tormented Boeotian peasants, so philology comes into a world full of + +gloomy colours and pictures, full of the deepest, most incurable woes, + +and speaks to men comfortingly of the beautiful and brilliant godlike + +figure of a distant, blue, and happy fairyland."

+ + + +

"We have indeed got hold of a rare bird, Herr Ratsherr," said one of + +these gentlemen to his companion, and the latter heartily agreed, for + +my brother's appointment had been chiefly his doing.

+ + + +

Even in Leipzig, it was reported that Jacob Burckhardt had said: + +"Nietzsche is as much an artist as a scholar." Privy-Councillor + +Ritschl told me of this himself, and then he added, with a smile: "I + +always said so; he can make his scientific discourses as palpitatingly + +interesting as a French novelist his novels."

+ + + +

"Homer and Classical Philology"—my brother's inaugural address at + +the University—was by no means the first literary attempt he had + +made; for we have already seen that he had had papers published by the + +Rheinische Museum; still, this particular discourse is important,[Pg xvi] + +seeing that it practically contains the programme of many other + +subsequent essays. I must, however, emphasise this fact here, that + +neither "Homer and Classical Philology," nor The Birth of Tragedy, + +represents a beginning in my brother's career. It is really surprising + +to see how very soon he actually began grappling with the questions + +which were to prove the problems of his life. If a beginning to his + +intellectual development be sought at all, then it must be traced + +to the years 1865-67 in Leipzig. The Birth of Tragedy, his maiden + +attempt at book-writing, with which he began his twenty-eighth year, + +is the last link of a long chain of developments, and the first fruit + +that was a long time coming to maturity. Nietzsche's was a polyphonic + +nature, in which the most different and apparently most antagonistic + +talents had come together. Philosophy, art, and science—in the form + +of philology, then—each certainly possessed a part of him. The + +most wonderful feature—perhaps it might even be called the real + +Nietzschean feature—of this versatile creature, was the fact that + +no eternal strife resulted from the juxtaposition of these inimical + +traits, that not one of them strove to dislodge, or to get the upper + +hand of, the others. When Nietzsche renounced the musical career, in + +order to devote himself to philology, and gave himself up to the most + +strenuous study, he did not find it essential completely to suppress + +his other tendencies: as before, he continued both to compose and + +derive pleasure from music, and[Pg xvii] even studied counterpoint somewhat + +seriously. Moreover, during his years at Leipzig, when he consciously + +gave himself up to philological research, he began to engross himself + +in Schopenhauer, and was thereby won by philosophy for ever. Everything + +that could find room took up its abode in him, and these juxtaposed + +factors, far from interfering with one another's existence, were rather + +mutually fertilising and stimulating. All those who have read the first + +volume of the biography with attention must have been struck with the + +perfect way in which the various impulses in his nature combined in + +the end to form one general torrent, and how this flowed with ever + +greater force in the direction of a single goal. Thus science, art, + +and philosophy developed and became ever more closely related in him, + +until, in The Birth of Tragedy, they brought forth a "centaur," that + +is to say, a work which would have been an impossible achievement to + +a man with only a single, special talent. This polyphony of different + +talents, all coming to utterance together and producing the richest + +and boldest of harmonies, is the fundamental feature not only of + +Nietzsche's early days, but of his whole development. It is once again + +the artist, philosopher, and man of science, who as one man in later + +years, after many wanderings, recantations, and revulsions of feeling, + +produces that other and rarer Centaur of highest rank—Zarathustra.

+ + + +

The Birth of Tragedy requires perhaps a little explaining—more + +particularly as we have now[Pg xviii] ceased to use either Schopenhauerian or + +Wagnerian terms of expression. And it was for this reason that five + +years after its appearance, my brother wrote an introduction to it, + +in which he very plainly expresses his doubts concerning the views it + +contains, and the manner in which they are presented. The kernel of its + +thought he always recognised as perfectly correct; and all he deplored + +in later days was that he had spoiled the grand problem of Hellenism, + +as he understood it, by adulterating it with ingredients taken from the + +world of most modern ideas. As time went on, he grew ever more and more + +anxious to define the deep meaning of this book with greater precision + +and clearness. A very good elucidation of its aims, which unfortunately + +was never published, appears among his notes of the year 1886, and is + +as follows:—

+ + + +

"Concerning The Birth of Tragedy.—A book consisting of mere + +experiences relating to pleasurable and unpleasurable æsthetic states, + +with a metaphysico-artistic background. At the same time the confession + +of a romanticist the sufferer feels the deepest longing for beauty—he + +begets it; finally, a product of youth, full of youthful courage and + +melancholy.

+ + + +

"Fundamental psychological experiences: the word 'Apollonian' stands + +for that state of rapt repose in the presence of a visionary world, + +in the presence of the world of beautiful appearance designed as a + +deliverance from becoming; the word Dionysos, on the other hand, + +stands for strenuous becoming, grown self-conscious, in the[Pg xix] form + +of the rampant voluptuousness of the creator, who is also perfectly + +conscious of the violent anger of the destroyer.

+ + + +

"The antagonism of these two attitudes and the desires that underlie + +them. The first-named would have the vision it conjures up eternal: + +in its light man must be quiescent, apathetic, peaceful, healed, and + +on friendly terms with himself and all existence; the second strives + +after creation, after the voluptuousness of wilful creation, i.e. + +constructing and destroying. Creation felt and explained as an instinct + +would be merely the unremitting inventive action of a dissatisfied + +being, overflowing with wealth and living at high tension and high + +pressure,—of a God who would overcome the sorrows of existence by + +means only of continual changes and transformations,—appearance as a + +transient and momentary deliverance; the world as an apparent sequence + +of godlike visions and deliverances.

+ + + +

"This metaphysico-artistic attitude is opposed to Schopenhauer's + +one-sided view which values art, not from the artist's standpoint but + +from the spectator's, because it brings salvation and deliverance + +by means of the joy produced by unreal as opposed to the existing + +or the real (the experience only of him who is suffering and is in + +despair owing to himself and everything existing).—Deliverance in + +the form and its eternity (just as Plato may have pictured it, save + +that he rejoiced in a complete subordination of all too excitable + +sensibilities, even in the idea itself). To this is opposed the second + +point of view—art regarded[Pg xx] as a phenomenon of the artist, above all + +of the musician; the torture of being obliged to create, as a Dionysian + +instinct.

+ + + +

"Tragic art, rich in both attitudes, represents the reconciliation of + +Apollo and Dionysos. Appearance is given the greatest importance by + +Dionysos; and yet it will be denied and cheerfully denied. This is + +directed against Schopenhauer's teaching of Resignation as the tragic + +attitude towards the world.

+ + + +

"Against Wagner's theory that music is a means and drama an end.

+ + + +

"A desire for tragic myth (for religion and even pessimistic religion) + +as for a forcing frame in which certain plants flourish.

+ + + +

"Mistrust of science, although its ephemerally soothing optimism be + +strongly felt; the 'serenity' of the theoretical man.

+ + + +

"Deep antagonism to Christianity. Why? The degeneration of the Germanic + +spirit is ascribed to its influence.

+ + + +

"Any justification of the world can only be an æsthetic one. Profound + +suspicions about morality (—it is part and parcel of the world of + +appearance).

+ + + +

"The happiness of existence is only possible as the happiness derived + +from appearance. ('Being' is a fiction invented by those who suffer + +from becoming.)

+ + + +

"Happiness in becoming is possible only in the annihilation of + +the real, of the 'existing,' of the beautifully visionary,—in the + +pessimistic dissipation of illusions:—with the annihilation[Pg xxi] of + +the most beautiful phenomena in the world of appearance, Dionysian + +happiness reaches its zenith."

+ + + +

The Birth of Tragedy is really only a portion of a much greater work + +on Hellenism, which my brother had always had in view from the time of + +his student days. But even the portion it represents was originally + +designed upon a much larger scale than the present one; the reason + +probably being, that Nietzsche desired only to be of service to Wagner. + +When a certain portion of the projected work on Hellenism was ready + +and had received the title Greek Cheerfulness, my brother happened + +to call upon Wagner at Tribschen in April 1871, and found him very + +low-spirited in regard to the mission of his life. My brother was very + +anxious to take some decisive step to help him, and, laying the plans + +of his great work on Greece aside, he selected a small portion from + +the already completed manuscript—a portion dealing with one distinct + +side of Hellenism,—to wit, its tragic art. He then associated Wagner's + +music with it and the name Dionysos, and thus took the first step + +towards that world-historical view through which we have since grown + +accustomed to regard Wagner.

+ + + +

From the dates of the various notes relating to it, The Birth of + +Tragedy must have been written between the autumn of 1869 and November + +1871—a period during which "a mass of æsthetic questions and answers" + +was fermenting in Nietzsche's mind. It was first published in January + +1872 by E. W. Fritsch, in Leipzig,[Pg xxii] under the title The Birth of + +Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music. Later on the title was changed to + +The Birth of Tragedy, or Hellenism and Pessimism.

+ + + +

ELIZABETH FORSTER-NIETZSCHE.

+ + + +

WEIMAR, September 1905.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[1] This Introduction by E. Förster-Nietzsche, which appears + +in the front of the first volume of Naumann's Pocket Edition of + +Nietzsche, has been translated and arranged by Mr. A. M. Ludovici.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[Pg 1]

+ + + + + + + + + +

AN ATTEMPT AT SELF-CRITICISM.

+ + + + + + + +

I.

+ + + + + +

Whatever may lie at the bottom of this doubtful book must be a + +question of the first rank and attractiveness, moreover a deeply + +personal question,—in proof thereof observe the time in which it + +originated, in spite of which it originated, the exciting period + +of the Franco-German war of 1870-71. While the thunder of the battle + +of Wörth rolled over Europe, the ruminator and riddle-lover, who had + +to be the parent of this book, sat somewhere in a nook of the Alps, + +lost in riddles and ruminations, consequently very much concerned and + +unconcerned at the same time, and wrote down his meditations on the + +Greeks,—the kernel of the curious and almost inaccessible book, to + +which this belated prologue (or epilogue) is to be devoted. A few weeks + +later: and he found himself under the walls of Metz, still wrestling + +with the notes of interrogation he had set down concerning the alleged + +"cheerfulness" of the Greeks and of Greek art; till at last, in that + +month of[Pg 2] deep suspense, when peace was debated at Versailles, he too + +attained to peace with himself, and, slowly recovering from a disease + +brought home from the field, made up his mind definitely regarding the + +"Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music."—From music? Music and + +Tragedy? Greeks and tragic music? Greeks and the Art-work of pessimism? + +A race of men, well-fashioned, beautiful, envied, life-inspiring, like + +no other race hitherto, the Greeks—indeed? The Greeks were in need + +of tragedy? Yea—of art? Wherefore—Greek art?...

+ + + +

We can thus guess where the great note of interrogation concerning the + +value of existence had been set. Is pessimism necessarily the sign of + +decline, of decay, of failure, of exhausted and weakened instincts?—as + +was the case with the Indians, as is, to all appearance, the case with + +us "modern" men and Europeans? Is there a pessimism of strength? An + +intellectual predilection for what is hard, awful, evil, problematical + +in existence, owing to well-being, to exuberant health, to fullness + +of existence? Is there perhaps suffering in overfullness itself? A + +seductive fortitude with the keenest of glances, which yearns for + +the terrible, as for the enemy, the worthy enemy, with whom it may try + +its strength? from whom it is willing to learn what "fear" is? What + +means tragic myth to the Greeks of the best, strongest, bravest era? + +And the prodigious phenomenon of the Dionysian? And that which was + +born thereof, tragedy?—And again: that of which tragedy died, the + +Socratism of morality, the dialectics,[Pg 3] contentedness and cheerfulness + +of the theoretical man—indeed? might not this very Socratism + +be a sign of decline, of weariness, of disease, of anarchically + +disintegrating instincts? And the "Hellenic cheerfulness" of the later + +Hellenism merely a glowing sunset? The Epicurean will counter to + +pessimism merely a precaution of the sufferer? And science itself, + +our science—ay, viewed as a symptom of life, what really signifies + +all science? Whither, worse still, whence—all science? Well? Is + +scientism perhaps only fear and evasion of pessimism? A subtle defence + +against—truth! Morally speaking, something like falsehood and + +cowardice? And, unmorally speaking, an artifice? O Socrates, Socrates, + +was this perhaps thy secret? Oh mysterious ironist, was this perhaps + +thine—irony?...

+ + + + + + + +

2.

+ + + + + +

What I then laid hands on, something terrible and dangerous, a + +problem with horns, not necessarily a bull itself, but at all events + +a new problem: I should say to-day it was the problem of science + +itself—science conceived for the first time as problematic, as + +questionable. But the book, in which my youthful ardour and suspicion + +then discharged themselves—what an impossible book must needs + +grow out of a task so disagreeable to youth. Constructed of nought + +but precocious, unripened self-experiences, all of which lay close + +to the threshold of the communicable, based on the groundwork of[Pg 4] + +art—for the problem of science cannot be discerned on the groundwork + +of science,—a book perhaps for artists, with collateral analytical + +and retrospective aptitudes (that is, an exceptional kind of artists, + +for whom one must seek and does not even care to seek ...), full of + +psychological innovations and artists' secrets, with an artists' + +metaphysics in the background, a work of youth, full of youth's mettle + +and youth's melancholy, independent, defiantly self-sufficient even + +when it seems to bow to some authority and self-veneration; in short, + +a firstling-work, even in every bad sense of the term; in spite of its + +senile problem, affected with every fault of youth, above all with + +youth's prolixity and youth's "storm and stress": on the other hand, + +in view of the success it had (especially with the great artist to + +whom it addressed itself, as it were, in a duologue, Richard Wagner) a + +demonstrated book, I mean a book which, at any rate, sufficed "for + +the best of its time." On this account, if for no other reason, it + +should be treated with some consideration and reserve; yet I shall not + +altogether conceal how disagreeable it now appears to me, how after + +sixteen years it stands a total stranger before me,—before an eye + +which is more mature, and a hundred times more fastidious, but which + +has by no means grown colder nor lost any of its interest in that + +self-same task essayed for the first time by this daring book,—to + +view science through the optics of the artist, and art moreover through + +the optics of life....

+ + + +

[Pg 5]

+ + + + + + + +

3.

+ + + + + +

I say again, to-day it is an impossible book to me,—I call it badly + +written, heavy, painful, image-angling and image-entangling, maudlin, + +sugared at times even to femininism, uneven in tempo, void of the will + +to logical cleanliness, very convinced and therefore rising above the + +necessity of demonstration, distrustful even of the propriety of + +demonstration, as being a book for initiates, as "music" for those who + +are baptised with the name of Music, who are united from the beginning + +of things by common ties of rare experiences in art, as a countersign + +for blood-relations in artibus.—a haughty and fantastic book, + +which from the very first withdraws even more from the profanum + +vulgus of the "cultured" than from the "people," but which also, as + +its effect has shown and still shows, knows very well how to seek + +fellow-enthusiasts and lure them to new by-ways and dancing-grounds. + +Here, at any rate—thus much was acknowledged with curiosity as well + +as with aversion—a strange voice spoke, the disciple of a still + +"unknown God," who for the time being had hidden himself under the + +hood of the scholar, under the German's gravity and disinclination for + +dialectics, even under the bad manners of the Wagnerian; here was a + +spirit with strange and still nameless needs, a memory bristling with + +questions, experiences and obscurities, beside which stood the name + +Dionysos like one more note of interrogation; here spoke—people said + +to themselves with misgivings—[Pg 6] something like a mystic and almost + +mænadic soul, which, undecided whether it should disclose or conceal + +itself, stammers with an effort and capriciously as in a strange + +tongue. It should have sung, this "new soul"—and not spoken! What + +a pity, that I did not dare to say what I then had to say, as a poet: + +I could have done so perhaps! Or at least as a philologist:—for even + +at the present day well-nigh everything in this domain remains to be + +discovered and disinterred by the philologist! Above all the problem, + +that here there is a problem before us,—and that, so long as we + +have no answer to the question "what is Dionysian?" the Greeks are now + +as ever wholly unknown and inconceivable....

+ + + + + + + +

4.

+ + + + + +

Ay, what is Dionysian?—In this book may be found an answer,—a + +"knowing one" speaks here, the votary and disciple of his god. + +Perhaps I should now speak more guardedly and less eloquently of a + +psychological question so difficult as the origin of tragedy among the + +Greeks. A fundamental question is the relation of the Greek to pain, + +his degree of sensibility,—did this relation remain constant? or did + +it veer about?—the question, whether his ever-increasing longing + +for beauty, for festivals, gaieties, new cults, did really grow out + +of want, privation, melancholy, pain? For suppose even this to be + +true—and Pericles (or Thucydides) intimates as much in the great + +Funeral Speech:—whence then the opposite[Pg 7] longing, which appeared + +first in the order of time, the longing for the ugly, the good, + +resolute desire of the Old Hellene for pessimism, for tragic myth, for + +the picture of all that is terrible, evil, enigmatical, destructive, + +fatal at the basis of existence,—whence then must tragedy have + +sprung? Perhaps from joy, from strength, from exuberant health, from + +over-fullness. And what then, physiologically speaking, is the meaning + +of that madness, out of which comic as well as tragic art has grown, + +the Dionysian madness? What? perhaps madness is not necessarily the + +symptom of degeneration, of decline, of belated culture? Perhaps there + +are—a question for alienists—neuroses of health? of folk-youth + +and youthfulness? What does that synthesis of god and goat in the + +Satyr point to? What self-experience what "stress," made the Greek + +think of the Dionysian reveller and primitive man as a satyr? And as + +regards the origin of the tragic chorus: perhaps there were endemic + +ecstasies in the eras when the Greek body bloomed and the Greek soul + +brimmed over with life? Visions and hallucinations, which took hold + +of entire communities, entire cult-assemblies? What if the Greeks + +in the very wealth of their youth had the will to be tragic and + +were pessimists? What if it was madness itself, to use a word of + +Plato's, which brought the greatest blessings upon Hellas? And + +what if, on the other hand and conversely, at the very time of their + +dissolution and weakness, the Greeks became always more optimistic, + +more superficial, more histrionic, also more ardent for logic and + +the[Pg 8] logicising of the world,—consequently at the same time more + +"cheerful" and more "scientific"? Ay, despite all "modern ideas" and + +prejudices of the democratic taste, may not the triumph of optimism, + +the common sense that has gained the upper hand, the practical and + +theoretical utilitarianism, like democracy itself, with which it is + +synchronous—be symptomatic of declining vigour, of approaching age, + +of physiological weariness? And not at all—pessimism? Was Epicurus + +an optimist—because a sufferer?... We see it is a whole bundle of + +weighty questions which this book has taken upon itself,—let us not + +fail to add its weightiest question! Viewed through the optics of + +life, what is the meaning of—morality?...

+ + + + + + + +

5.

+ + + + + +

Already in the foreword to Richard Wagner, art—-and not morality—is + +set down as the properly metaphysical activity of man; in the + +book itself the piquant proposition recurs time and again, that the + +existence of the world is justified only as an æsthetic phenomenon. + +Indeed, the entire book recognises only an artist-thought and + +artist-after-thought behind all occurrences,—a "God," if you will, + +but certainly only an altogether thoughtless and unmoral artist-God, + +who, in construction as in destruction, in good as in evil, desires + +to become conscious of his own equable joy and sovereign glory; who, + +in creating worlds, frees himself from the anguish of fullness + +and overfullness, from the suffering of the contradictions[Pg 9] + +concentrated within him. The world, that is, the redemption of God + +attained at every moment, as the perpetually changing, perpetually + +new vision of the most suffering, most antithetical, most contradictory + +being, who contrives to redeem himself only in appearance: this + +entire artist-metaphysics, call it arbitrary, idle, fantastic, if + +you will,—the point is, that it already betrays a spirit, which is + +determined some day, at all hazards, to make a stand against the + +moral interpretation and significance of life. Here, perhaps for the + +first time, a pessimism "Beyond Good and Evil" announces itself, here + +that "perverseness of disposition" obtains expression and formulation, + +against which Schopenhauer never grew tired of hurling beforehand his + +angriest imprecations and thunderbolts,—a philosophy which dares to + +put, derogatorily put, morality itself in the world of phenomena, and + +not only among "phenomena" (in the sense of the idealistic terminus + +technicus), but among the "illusions," as appearance, semblance, + +error, interpretation, accommodation, art. Perhaps the depth of this + +antimoral tendency may be best estimated from the guarded and + +hostile silence with which Christianity is treated throughout this + +book,—Christianity, as being the most extravagant burlesque of the + +moral theme to which mankind has hitherto been obliged to listen. In + +fact, to the purely æsthetic world-interpretation and justification + +taught in this book, there is no greater antithesis than the Christian + +dogma, which is only and will be only moral, and which, with + +its absolute standards, for instance, its truthfulness[Pg 10] of God, + +relegates—that is, disowns, convicts, condemns—art, all art, to + +the realm of falsehood. Behind such a mode of thought and valuation, + +which, if at all genuine, must be hostile to art, I always experienced + +what was hostile to life, the wrathful, vindictive counterwill to + +life itself: for all life rests on appearance, art, illusion, optics, + +necessity of perspective and error. From the very first Christianity + +was, essentially and thoroughly, the nausea and surfeit of Life for + +Life, which only disguised, concealed and decked itself out under the + +belief in "another" or "better" life. The hatred of the "world," the + +curse on the affections, the fear of beauty and sensuality, another + +world, invented for the purpose of slandering this world the more, + +at bottom a longing for. Nothingness, for the end, for rest, for the + +"Sabbath of Sabbaths"—all this, as also the unconditional will of + +Christianity to recognise only moral values, has always appeared to + +me as the most dangerous and ominous of all possible forms of a "will + +to perish"; at the least, as the symptom of a most fatal disease, of + +profoundest weariness, despondency, exhaustion, impoverishment of + +life,—for before the tribunal of morality (especially Christian, that + +is, unconditional morality) life must constantly and inevitably be + +the loser, because life is something essentially unmoral,—indeed, + +oppressed with the weight of contempt and the everlasting No, life + +must finally be regarded as unworthy of desire, as in itself + +unworthy. Morality itself what?—may not morality be a "will to + +disown life," a secret instinct for annihilation, a principle[Pg 11] of + +decay, of depreciation, of slander, a beginning of the end? And, + +consequently, the danger of dangers?... It was against morality, + +therefore, that my instinct, as an intercessory-instinct for life, + +turned in this questionable book, inventing for itself a fundamental + +counter—dogma and counter-valuation of life, purely artistic, purely + +anti-Christian. What should I call it? As a philologist and man of + +words I baptised it, not without some liberty—for who could be sure + +of the proper name of the Antichrist?—with the name of a Greek god: I + +called it Dionysian.

+ + + + + + + +

6.

+ + + + + +

You see which problem I ventured to touch upon in this early work?... + +How I now regret, that I had not then the courage (or immodesty?) to + +allow myself, in all respects, the use of an individual language + +for such individual contemplations and ventures in the field of + +thought—that I laboured to express, in Kantian and Schopenhauerian + +formulæ, strange and new valuations, which ran fundamentally counter + +to the spirit of Kant and Schopenhauer, as well as to their taste! + +What, forsooth, were Schopenhauer's views on tragedy? "What gives"—he + +says in Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, II. 495—"to all tragedy + +that singular swing towards elevation, is the awakening of the + +knowledge that the world, that life, cannot satisfy us thoroughly, + +and consequently is not worthy of our attachment In this consists + +the tragic spirit: it therefore leads to resignation." Oh, how[Pg 12] + +differently Dionysos spoke to me! Oh how far from me then was just + +this entire resignationism!—But there is something far worse in this + +book, which I now regret even more than having obscured and spoiled + +Dionysian anticipations with Schopenhauerian formulæ: to wit, that, in + +general, I spoiled the grand Hellenic problem, as it had opened + +up before me, by the admixture of the most modern things! That I + +entertained hopes, where nothing was to be hoped for, where everything + +pointed all-too-clearly to an approaching end! That, on the basis of + +our latter-day German music, I began to fable about the "spirit of + +Teutonism," as if it were on the point of discovering and returning + +to itself,—ay, at the very time that the German spirit which not so + +very long before had had the will to the lordship over Europe, the + +strength to lead and govern Europe, testamentarily and conclusively + +resigned and, under the pompous pretence of empire-founding, + +effected its transition to mediocritisation, democracy, and "modern + +ideas." In very fact, I have since learned to regard this "spirit of + +Teutonism" as something to be despaired of and unsparingly treated, + +as also our present German music, which is Romanticism through and + +through and the most un-Grecian of all possible forms of art: and + +moreover a first-rate nerve-destroyer, doubly dangerous for a people + +given to drinking and revering the unclear as a virtue, namely, in + +its twofold capacity of an intoxicating and stupefying narcotic. Of + +course, apart from all precipitate hopes and faulty applications[Pg 13] to + +matters specially modern, with which I then spoiled my first book, the + +great Dionysian note of interrogation, as set down therein, continues + +standing on and on, even with reference to music: how must we conceive + +of a music, which is no longer of Romantic origin, like the German; but + +of Dionysian?...

+ + + + + + + +

7.

+ + + + + +

—But, my dear Sir, if your book is not Romanticism, what in + +the world is? Can the deep hatred of the present, of "reality" + +and "modern ideas" be pushed farther than has been done in your + +artist-metaphysics?—which would rather believe in Nothing, or in + +the devil, than in the "Now"? Does not a radical bass of wrath and + +annihilative pleasure growl on beneath all your contrapuntal vocal + +art and aural seduction, a mad determination to oppose all that "now" + +is, a will which is not so very far removed from practical nihilism + +and which seems to say: "rather let nothing be true, than that you + +should be in the right, than that your truth should prevail!" + +Hear, yourself, my dear Sir Pessimist and art-deifier, with ever + +so unlocked ears, a single select passage of your own book, that + +not ineloquent dragon-slayer passage, which may sound insidiously + +rat-charming to young ears and hearts. What? is not that the true + +blue romanticist-confession of 1830 under the mask of the pessimism + +of 1850? After which, of course, the usual romanticist finale at once + +strikes up,—rupture, collapse, return and prostration before an old + +belief, before the old God....[Pg 14] What? is not your pessimist book + +itself a piece of anti-Hellenism and Romanticism, something "equally + +intoxicating and befogging," a narcotic at all events, ay, a piece of + +music, of German music? But listen:

+ + + +
+ + + +

Let us imagine a rising generation with this undauntedness + +of vision, with this heroic impulse towards the prodigious, + +let us imagine the bold step of these dragon-slayers, + +the proud daring with which they turn their backs on all + +the effeminate doctrines of optimism, in order "to live + +resolutely" in the Whole and in the Full: would it not be + +necessary for the tragic man of this culture, with his + +self-discipline to earnestness and terror, to desire a new + +art, the art of metaphysical comfort, tragedy as the + +Helena belonging to him, and that he should exclaim with + +Faust:

+ + + +

+ +"Und sollt ich nicht, sehnsüchtigster Gewalt,
+ +In's Leben ziehn die einzigste Gestalt?"[1]
+ +

+ +
+ + + +

"Would it not be necessary?" ... No, thrice no! ye young + +romanticists: it would not be necessary! But it is very probable, + +that things may end thus, that ye may end thus, namely "comforted," + +as it is written, in spite of all self-discipline to earnestness and + +terror; metaphysically comforted, in short, as Romanticists are wont to + +end, as Christians.... No! ye should first of all learn the art of + +earthly comfort, ye should learn to laugh, my young friends, if ye + +are at all determined to remain pessimists: if so, you[Pg 15] will perhaps, + +as laughing ones, eventually send all metaphysical comfortism to the + +devil—and metaphysics first of all! Or, to say it in the language of + +that Dionysian ogre, called Zarathustra:

+ + + +
+ + + +

"Lift up your hearts, my brethren, high, higher! And do + +not forget your legs! Lift up also your legs, ye good + +dancers—and better still if ye stand also on your heads!

+ + + +

"This crown of the laughter, this rose-garland crown—I + +myself have put on this crown; I myself have consecrated my + +laughter. No one else have I found to-day strong enough for + +this.

+ + + +

"Zarathustra the dancer, Zarathustra the light one, + +who beckoneth with his pinions, one ready for flight, + +beckoning unto all birds, ready and prepared, a blissfully + +light-spirited one:—

+ + + +

"Zarathustra the soothsayer, Zarathustra the sooth-laugher, + +no impatient one, no absolute one, one who loveth leaps and + +side-leaps: I myself have put on this crown!

+ + + +

"This crown of the laughter, this rose-garland crown—to + +you my brethren do I cast this crown! Laughing have I + +consecrated: ye higher men, learn, I pray you—to laugh!"

+ + + +

Thus spake Zarathustra, lxxiii. 17, 18, and 20.

+ + + +

SILS-MARIA, OBERENGADIN, August 1886.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[1] + +

+ +

+ +And shall not I, by mightiest desire,
+ +In living shape that sole fair form acquire?
+ +SWANWICK, trans. of Faust.
+ +

+ +
+ + + +
+ + + +

[Pg 18]

+ + + + + + + +

THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY

+ + + +

FROM THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC

+ + + +
+ + + +

[Pg 19]

+ + + + + + + + + +

FOREWORD TO RICHARD WAGNER.

+ + + + + +

In order to keep at a distance all the possible scruples, excitements, + +and misunderstandings to which the thoughts gathered in this essay + +will give occasion, considering the peculiar character of our æsthetic + +publicity, and to be able also Co write the introductory remarks + +with the same contemplative delight, the impress of which, as the + +petrifaction of good and elevating hours, it bears on every page, I + +form a conception of the moment when you, my highly honoured friend, + +will receive this essay; how you, say after an evening walk in the + +winter snow, will behold the unbound Prometheus on the title-page, + +read my name, and be forthwith convinced that, whatever this essay may + +contain, the author has something earnest and impressive to say, and, + +moreover, that in all his meditations he communed with you as with one + +present and could thus write only what befitted your presence. You + +will thus remember that it was at the same time as your magnificent + +dissertation on Beethoven originated, viz., amidst[Pg 20] the horrors and + +sublimities of the war which had just then broken out, that I collected + +myself for these thoughts. But those persons would err, to whom this + +collection suggests no more perhaps than the antithesis of patriotic + +excitement and æsthetic revelry, of gallant earnestness and sportive + +delight. Upon a real perusal of this essay, such readers will, rather + +to their surprise, discover how earnest is the German problem we have + +to deal with, which we properly place, as a vortex and turning-point, + +in the very midst of German hopes. Perhaps, however, this same class + +of readers will be shocked at seeing an æsthetic problem taken so + +seriously, especially if they can recognise in art no more than a merry + +diversion, a readily dispensable court-jester to the "earnestness + +of existence": as if no one were aware of the real meaning of this + +confrontation with the "earnestness of existence." These earnest ones + +may be informed that I am convinced that art is the highest task and + +the properly metaphysical activity of this life, as it is understood by + +the man, to whom, as my sublime protagonist on this path, I would now + +dedicate this essay.

+ + + +

BASEL, end of the year 1871.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[Pg 21]

+ + + + + + + + + +

THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY.

+ + + + + + + +

1.

+ + + + + +

We shall have gained much for the science of æsthetics, when once we + +have perceived not only by logical inference, but by the immediate + +certainty of intuition, that the continuous development of art is bound + +up with the duplexity of the Apollonian and the Dionysian: in + +like manner as procreation is dependent on the duality of the sexes, + +involving perpetual conflicts with only periodically intervening + +reconciliations. These names we borrow from the Greeks, who disclose + +to the intelligent observer the profound mysteries of their view of + +art, not indeed in concepts, but in the impressively clear figures of + +their world of deities. It is in connection with Apollo and Dionysus, + +the two art-deities of the Greeks, that we learn that there existed in + +the Grecian world a wide antithesis, in origin and aims, between the + +art of the shaper, the Apollonian, and the non-plastic art of music, + +that of Dionysus: both these so heterogeneous tendencies run parallel + +to each other, for the most part openly at variance, and continually + +inciting each other to new and more powerful births, to perpetuate in[Pg 22] + +them the strife of this antithesis, which is but seemingly bridged over + +by their mutual term "Art"; till at last, by a metaphysical miracle + +of the Hellenic will, they appear paired with each other, and through + +this pairing eventually generate the equally Dionysian and Apollonian + +art-work of Attic tragedy.

+ + + +

In order to bring these two tendencies within closer range, let us + +conceive them first of all as the separate art-worlds of dreamland + +and drunkenness; between which physiological phenomena a contrast + +may be observed analogous to that existing between the Apollonian and + +the Dionysian. In dreams, according to the conception of Lucretius, + +the glorious divine figures first appeared to the souls of men, in + +dreams the great shaper beheld the charming corporeal structure of + +superhuman beings, and the Hellenic poet, if consulted on the mysteries + +of poetic inspiration, would likewise have suggested dreams and would + +have offered an explanation resembling that of Hans Sachs in the + +Meistersingers:—

+ + + +

+ +Mein Freund, das grad' ist Dichters Werk,
+ +dass er sein Träumen deut' und merk'.
+ +Glaubt mir, des Menschen wahrster Wahn
+ +wird ihm im Traume aufgethan:
+ +all' Dichtkunst und Poeterei
+ +ist nichts als Wahrtraum-Deuterei.[1]
+

-


-

- - + +

[Pg 23]

+ + + + + +

The beauteous appearance of the dream-worlds, in the production of + +which every man is a perfect artist, is the presupposition of all + +plastic art, and in fact, as we shall see, of an important half of + +poetry also. We take delight in the immediate apprehension of form; all + +forms speak to us; there is nothing indifferent, nothing superfluous. + +But, together with the highest life of this dream-reality we also have, + +glimmering through it, the sensation of its appearance: such at least + +is my experience, as to the frequency, ay, normality of which I could + +adduce many proofs, as also the sayings of the poets. Indeed, the man + +of philosophic turn has a foreboding that underneath this reality in + +which we live and have our being, another and altogether different + +reality lies concealed, and that therefore it is also an appearance; + +and Schopenhauer actually designates the gift of occasionally regarding + +men and things as mere phantoms and dream-pictures as the criterion of + +philosophical ability. Accordingly, the man susceptible to art stands + +in the same relation to the reality of dreams as the philosopher to + +the reality of existence; he is a close and willing observer, for from + +these pictures he reads the meaning of life, and by these processes + +he trains himself for life. And it is perhaps not only the agreeable + +and friendly pictures that he realises in himself with such perfect + +understanding: the earnest, the troubled, the dreary, the gloomy, the + +sudden checks, the tricks of fortune, the uneasy presentiments, in + +short, the whole "Divine Comedy" of life, and the Inferno, also pass + +before him, not merely like[Pg 24] pictures on the wall—for he too lives and + +suffers in these scenes,—and yet not without that fleeting sensation + +of appearance. And perhaps many a one will, like myself, recollect + +having sometimes called out cheeringly and not without success amid the + +dangers and terrors of dream-life: "It is a dream! I will dream on!" I + +have likewise been told of persons capable of continuing the causality + +of one and the same dream for three and even more successive nights: + +all of which facts clearly testify that our innermost being, the common + +substratum of all of us, experiences our dreams with deep joy and + +cheerful acquiescence.

+ + + +

This cheerful acquiescence in the dream-experience has likewise been + +embodied by the Greeks in their Apollo: for Apollo, as the god of + +all shaping energies, is also the soothsaying god. He, who (as the + +etymology of the name indicates) is the "shining one," the deity of + +light, also rules over the fair appearance of the inner world of + +fantasies. The higher truth, the perfection of these states in contrast + +to the only partially intelligible everyday world, ay, the deep + +consciousness of nature, healing and helping in sleep and dream, is at + +the same time the symbolical analogue of the faculty of soothsaying + +and, in general, of the arts, through which life is made possible and + +worth living. But also that delicate line, which the dream-picture must + +not overstep—lest it act pathologically (in which case appearance, + +being reality pure and simple, would impose upon us)—must not be + +wanting in the picture of Apollo: that measured limitation, that + +freedom[Pg 25] from the wilder emotions, that philosophical calmness of the + +sculptor-god. His eye must be "sunlike," according to his origin; even + +when it is angry and looks displeased, the sacredness of his beauteous + +appearance is still there. And so we might apply to Apollo, in an + +eccentric sense, what Schopenhauer says of the man wrapt in the veil + +of Mâyâ[2]: Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, I. p. 416: "Just as in + +a stormy sea, unbounded in every direction, rising and falling with + +howling mountainous waves, a sailor sits in a boat and trusts in his + +frail barque: so in the midst of a world of sorrows the individual sits + +quietly supported by and trusting in his principium individuationis." + +Indeed, we might say of Apollo, that in him the unshaken faith in + +this principium and the quiet sitting of the man wrapt therein have + +received their sublimest expression; and we might even designate Apollo + +as the glorious divine image of the principium individuationis, + +from out of the gestures and looks of which all the joy and wisdom of + +"appearance," together with its beauty, speak to us.

+ + + +

In the same work Schopenhauer has described to us the stupendous awe + +which seizes upon man, when of a sudden he is at a loss to account for + +the cognitive forms of a phenomenon, in that the principle of reason, + +in some one of its manifestations, seems to admit of an exception. + +Add to this awe the blissful ecstasy which rises from the[Pg 26] innermost + +depths of man, ay, of nature, at this same collapse of the principium + +individuationis, and we shall gain an insight into the being of + +the Dionysian, which is brought within closest ken perhaps by the + +analogy of drunkenness. It is either under the influence of the + +narcotic draught, of which the hymns of all primitive men and peoples + +tell us, or by the powerful approach of spring penetrating all nature + +with joy, that those Dionysian emotions awake, in the augmentation of + +which the subjective vanishes to complete self-forgetfulness. So also + +in the German Middle Ages singing and dancing crowds, ever increasing + +in number, were borne from place to place under this same Dionysian + +power. In these St. John's and St. Vitus's dancers we again perceive + +the Bacchic choruses of the Greeks, with their previous history in Asia + +Minor, as far back as Babylon and the orgiastic Sacæa. There are some, + +who, from lack of experience or obtuseness, will turn away from such + +phenomena as "folk-diseases" with a smile of contempt or pity prompted + +by the consciousness of their own health: of course, the poor wretches + +do not divine what a cadaverous-looking and ghastly aspect this very + +"health" of theirs presents when the glowing life of the Dionysian + +revellers rushes past them.

+ + + +

Under the charm of the Dionysian not only is the covenant between man + +and man again established, but also estranged, hostile or subjugated + +nature again celebrates her reconciliation with her lost son, man. Of + +her own accord earth proffers her gifts, and peacefully the beasts of[Pg 27] + +prey approach from the desert and the rocks. The chariot of Dionysus is + +bedecked with flowers and garlands: panthers and tigers pass beneath + +his yoke. Change Beethoven's "jubilee-song" into a painting, and, if + +your imagination be equal to the occasion when the awestruck millions + +sink into the dust, you will then be able to approach the Dionysian. + +Now is the slave a free man, now all the stubborn, hostile barriers, + +which necessity, caprice, or "shameless fashion" has set up between + +man and man, are broken down. Now, at the evangel of cosmic harmony, + +each one feels himself not only united, reconciled, blended with + +his neighbour, but as one with him, as if the veil of Mâyâ has been + +torn and were now merely fluttering in tatters before the mysterious + +Primordial Unity. In song and in dance man exhibits himself as a member + +of a higher community, he has forgotten how to walk and speak, and + +is on the point of taking a dancing flight into the air. His gestures + +bespeak enchantment. Even as the animals now talk, and as the earth + +yields milk and honey, so also something super-natural sounds forth + +from him: he feels himself a god, he himself now walks about enchanted + +and elated even as the gods whom he saw walking about in his dreams. + +Man is no longer an artist, he has become a work of art: the artistic + +power of all nature here reveals itself in the tremors of drunkenness + +to the highest gratification of the Primordial Unity. The noblest clay, + +the costliest marble, namely man, is here kneaded and cut, and the + +chisel strokes of[Pg 28] the Dionysian world-artist are accompanied with the + +cry of the Eleusinian mysteries: "Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen? Ahnest + +du den Schöpfer, Welt?"[3]

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[1] +

-

-CHAPTER II -

+

-

-THE CHANCELLOR OF BARODIA HAS A LONG WALK HOME -

+My friend, just this is poet's task:
+His dreams to read and to unmask.
-

-Once more it was early morning on the castle walls. -

+Trust me, illusion's truths thrice sealed
-

-The King sat at his breakfast table, a company of archers drawn up in -front of him. -

+In dream to man will be revealed.
-

-"Now you all understand," he said. "When the King of Baro—when a -certain—well, when I say 'when,' I want you all to fire your arrows -into the air. You are to take no aim; you are just to shoot your -arrows upwards, and—er—I want to see who gets highest. Should -anything—er—should anything brush up against them on their way—not -of course that it's likely—well, in that case—er—in that case -something will—er—brush up against them. After all, what should?" -

+All verse-craft and poetisation
-

-"Quite so, Sire," said the Captain, "or rather, not at all." -

+Is but soothdream interpretation.
-

-"Very well. To your places." -

- -

-Each archer fitted an arrow to his bow and took up his position. A -look-out man had been posted. Everything was ready. -

- -

-The King was decidedly nervous. He wandered from one archer to -another asking after this man's wife and family, praising the polish -on that man's quiver, or advising him to stand with his back a little -more to the sun. Now and then he would hurry off to the look-out man -on a distant turret, point out Barodia on the horizon to him, and -hurry back again. -

- -

-The look-out knew all about it. -

- -

-"Royalty over," he bellowed suddenly. -

- -

-"When!" roared the King, and a cloud of arrows shot into the air. -

- -

-"Well done!" cried Hyacinth, clapping her hands. "I mean, how could -you? You might have hurt him." -

- -

-"Hyacinth," said the King, turning suddenly; "you here?" -

- -

-"I have just come up. Did you hit him?" -

- -

-"Hit who?" -

- -

-"The King of Barodia, of course." -

- -

-"The King of—— My dear child, what could the King of Barodia be -doing here? My archers were aiming at a hawk that they saw in the -distance." He beckoned to the Captain. "Did you hit that hawk?" he -asked. -

- -

-"With one shot only, Sire. In the whisk—in the tail feathers." -

- -

-The King turned to Hyacinth. -

- -

-"With one shot only in the whisk—in the tail feathers," he said. -"What was it, my dear, that you were saying about the King of -Barodia?" -

- -

-"Oh, Father, you are bad. You hit the poor man right in the whisker." -

- -

-"His Majesty of Barodia! And in the whisker! My dear child, this is -terrible! But what can he have been doing up there? Dear, dear, this -is really most unfortunate. I must compose a note of apology about -this." -

- -

-"I should leave the first note to him," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Yes, yes, you're right. No doubt he will wish to explain how he came -to be there. Just a moment, dear." -

- -

-He went over to his archers, who were drawn up in line -again. -

- -

-"You may take your men down now," he said to the Captain. -

- -

-"Yes, your Majesty." -

- -

-His Majesty looked quickly round the castle walls, and then leant -confidentially towards the Captain. -

- -

-"Er—which was the man who—er"— he fingered his cheek—"er—quite -so. The one on the left? Ah, yes." He went to the man on the left -and put a bag of gold into his hand. -

- -

-"You have a very good style with the bow, my man. Your wrist action -is excellent. I have never seen an arrow go so high." -

- -

-The company saluted and withdrew. The King and Hyacinth sat down to -breakfast. -

- -

-"A little mullet, my dear?" he said. -

- -

-     * * * * *
-

- -

-The Hereditary Grand Chancellor of Barodia never forgot that morning, -nor did he allow his wife to forget it. His opening, "That reminds -me, dear, of the day when——" though the signal of departure for any -guests, allowed no escape for his family. They had to have it. -

- -

-And indeed it was a busy day for him. Summoned to the Palace at nine -o'clock, he found the King nursing a bent whisker and in the very -vilest of tempers. His Majesty was for war at once, the Chancellor -leant towards the Stiff Note. -

- -

-"At least, your Majesty," he begged, "let me consult the precedents -first." -

- -

-"There is no precedent," said the King coldly, "for such an outrage as -this." -

- -

-"Not precisely, Sire; but similar unfortunate occurrences -have—occurred." -

- -

-"It was worse than an occurrence." -

- -

-"I should have said an outrage, your Majesty. Your late lamented -grandfather was unfortunate enough to come beneath the spell of the -King of Araby, under which he was compelled—or perhaps I should say -preferred—to go about on his hands and knees for several weeks. Your -Majesty may recall how the people in their great loyalty adopted a -similar mode of progression. Now although your Majesty's case is not -precisely on all fours——" -

- -

-"Not at all on all fours," said the King coldly. -

- -

-"An unfortunate metaphor; I should say that although your Majesty's -case is not parallel, the procedure adopted in your revered -grandfather's case——" -

- -

-"I don't care what you do with your whiskers; I don't care what -anybody does with his whiskers," said the King, still soothing his -own tenderly; "I want the King of Euralia's blood." He looked round -the Court. "To any one who will bring me the head of the King, I will -give the hand of my daughter in marriage." -

- -

-There was a profound silence. . . . -

- -

-"Which daughter?" said a cautious voice at last. -

- -

-"The eldest," said the King. -

- -

-There was another profound silence. . . . -

- -

-[Illustration: He found the King nursing a bent whisker and in the -very vilest of tempers, verso][Illustration: He found the King -nursing a bent whisker and in the very vilest of tempers, recto] -

- -

-"My suggestion, your Majesty," said the Chancellor, "is that for the -present there should be merely an exchange of Stiff Notes; and that -meanwhile we scour the kingdom for an enchanter who shall take some -pleasant revenge for us upon his Majesty of Euralia. For instance, -Sire, a king whose head has been permanently fixed on upside-down -lacks somewhat of that regal dignity which alone can command the -respect of his subjects. A couple of noses, again, placed at -different angles, so they cannot both be blown together——" -

- -

-"Yes, yes," said the King impatiently, "I'll think of the things, if -once you can find the enchanter. But they are not so common nowadays. -Besides, enchanters are delicate things to work with. They have a -habit of forgetting which side they are on." -

- -

-The Chancellor's mouth drooped piteously. -

- -

-"Well," said the King condescendingly, "I'll tell you what we'll do. -You may send one Stiff Note and then we will declare war." -

- -

-"Thank you, your Majesty," said the Chancellor. -

- -

-So the Stiff Note was dispatched. It pointed out that his Majesty of -Barodia, while in the act of taking his early morning constitutional, -had been severely insulted by an arrow. This arrow, though -fortunately avoiding the more vital parts of his Majesty's person, -went so far as to wound a favourite whisker. For this the fullest -reparation must be made . . . and so forth and so on. -

- -

-Euralia's reply was not long delayed. It expressed the deepest -concern at the unhappy accident which had overtaken a friendly -monarch. On the morning in question, his Majesty had been testing his -archers in a shooting competition at a distant hawk; which -competition, it might interest his Majesty of Barodia to know, had -been won by Henry Smallnose, a bowman of considerable promise. In the -course of the competition it was noticed that a foreign body of some -sort brushed up against one of the arrows, but as this in no way -affected the final placing of the competitors, little attention was -paid to it. His Majesty of Barodia might rest assured that the King -had no wish to pursue the matter farther. Indeed, he was always glad -to welcome his Barodian Majesty on these occasions. Other shooting -competitions would be arranged from time to time, and if his Majesty -happened to be passing at the moment, the King of Euralia hoped that -he would come down and join them. Trusting that her Majesty and their -Royal Highnesses were well, . . . and so on and so forth. -

- -

-The Grand Chancellor of Barodia read this answer to his Stiff Note -with a growing feeling of uneasiness. It was he who had exposed his -Majesty to this fresh insult; and, unless he could soften it in some -way, his morning at the Palace might be a painful one. -

- -

-As he entered the precincts, he wondered whether the King would be -wearing the famous boots, and whether they kicked seven leagues as -easily as they strode them. He felt more and more that there were -notes which you could break gently, and notes which you -couldn't. . . . -

- -

-Five minutes later, as he started on his twenty-one mile walk home, he -realised that this was one of the ones which you couldn't. -

- -

-     * * * * *
-

- -

-This, then, was the real reason of the war between Euralia and -Barodia. I am aware that in saying this I differ from the eminent -historian, Roger Scurvilegs. In Chapter IX of his immortal work, -Euralia Past and Present, he attributes the quarrel between the two -countries to quite other causes. The King of Barodia, he says, -demanded the hand of the Princess Hyacinth for his eldest son. The -King of Euralia made some commonplace condition as that his Royal -Highness should first ride his horse up a glassy mountain in the -district, a condition which his Majesty of Barodia strongly resented. -I am afraid that Roger is incurably romantic; I have had to speak to -him about it before. There was nothing of the sentimental in the whole -business, and the facts are exactly as I have narrated them. -

-

[Illustration: End of chapter decoration. Looks to be Belvane reading her diary, but it is very small.] - - - - -


-

- -[Illustration: Detail of Merriwig from next large drawing]

-

-CHAPTER III -

+
-

-THE KING OF EURALIA DRAWS HIS SWORD -

-

-No doubt you have already guessed that it was the Countess Belvane who -dictated the King of Euralia's answer. Left to himself, Merriwig -would have said, "Serve you jolly well right for stalking over my -kingdom." His repartee was never very subtle. Hyacinth would have -said, "Of course we're awfully sorry, but a whisker isn't very -bad, is it? and you really oughtn't to come to breakfast without -being asked." The Chancellor would have scratched his head for a long -time, and then said, "Referring to Chap VII, Para 259 of the King's -Regulations we notice . . ." -

-

-But Belvane had her own way of doing things; and if you suggest that -she wanted to make Barodia's declaration of war inevitable, well, the -story will show whether you are right in supposing that she had her -reasons. It came a little hard on the Chancellor of Barodia, but the -innocent must needs suffer for the ambitions of the unprincipled—a -maxim I borrow from Euralia Past and Present; Roger in his moral -vein. -

+
-

-"Well," said Merriwig to the Countess, "that's done it." -

-

-"It really is war?" asked Belvane. -

-

-"It is. Hyacinth is looking out my armour at this moment." -

+

[2] Cf. World and Will as Idea, 1. 455 ff., trans, by -

-"What did the King of Barodia say?" -

+Haldane and Kemp.

-

-"He didn't say anything. He wrote 'W A R' in red on a dirty bit of -paper, pinned it to my messenger's ear, and sent him back again." -

-

-"How very crude," said the Countess. -

-

-"Oh, I thought it was—er—rather forcible," said the King awkwardly. -Secretly he had admired it a good deal and wished that he had been the -one to do it. -

+
-

-"Of course," said the Countess, with a charming smile, "that sort of -thing depends so very much on who does it. Now from your Majesty it -would have seemed—dignified." -

-

-"He must have been very angry," said the King, picking up first one -and then another of a number of swords which lay in front of him. "I -wish I had seen his face when he got my Note." -

-

-"So do I," sighed the Countess. She wished it much more than the -King. It is the tragedy of writing a good letter that you cannot be -there when it is opened: a maxim of my own, the thought never having -occurred to Roger Scurvilegs, who was a dull correspondent. -

+

[3] -

-The King was still taking up and putting down his swords. -

- -

-"It's very awkward," he muttered; "I wonder if Hyacinth——" He went -to the door and called "Hyacinth!" -

- -

-"Coming, Father," called back Hyacinth, from a higher floor. -

- -

-The Countess rose and curtsied deeply. -

- -

-"Good morning, your Royal Highness." -

- -

-"Good morning, Countess," said Hyacinth brightly. She liked the -Countess (you couldn't help it), but rather wished she didn't. -

- -

-"Oh, Hyacinth," said the King, "come and tell me about these swords. -Which is my magic one?" -

- -

-Hyacinth looked at him blankly. -

- -

-"Oh, Father," she said. "I don't know at all. Does it matter very -much?" -

- -

-"My dear child, of course it matters. Supposing I am fighting the -King of Barodia and I have my magic sword, then I'm bound to win. -Supposing I haven't, then I'm not bound to." -

- -

-"Supposing you both had magic swords," said Belvane. It was the sort -of thing she would say. -

- -

-The King looked up slowly at her and began to revolve the idea in his -mind. -

- -

-"Well, really," he said, "I hadn't thought of that. Upon my word, -I——" He turned to his daughter. "Hyacinth, what would happen if we -both had magic swords?" -

- -

-"I suppose you'd go on fighting for ever," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Or until the magic wore out of one of them," said Belvane innocently. -

- -

-"There must be something about it somewhere," said the King, whose -morning was in danger of being quite spoilt by this new suggestion; -"I'd ask the Chancellor to look it up, only he's so busy just now." -

- -

-"He'd have plenty of time while the combat was going on," said Belvane -thoughtfully. Wonderful creature! she saw already the Chancellor -hurrying up to announce that the King of Euralia had won, at the very -moment when he lay stretched on the ground by a mortal thrust from his -adversary. -

- -

-The King turned to his swords again. -

- -

-"Well, anyway, I'm going to be sure of mine," he said. "Hyacinth, -haven't you any idea which it is?" He added in rather a hurt voice, -"Naturally I left the marking of my swords to you." -

- -

-His daughter examined the swords one by one. -

- -

-"Here it is," she cried. "It's got 'M' on it for 'magic.'" -

- -

-"Or 'Merriwig,'" said the Countess to her diary. -

- -

-The expression of joy on the King's face at his daughter's discovery -had just time to appear and fade away again. -

- -

-"You are not being very helpful this morning, Countess," he said -severely. -

- -

-Instantly the Countess was on her feet, her diary thrown to the -floor—no, never thrown—laid gently on the floor, and herself, hands -clasped at her breast, a figure of reproachful penitence before him. -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty, forgive me—if your Majesty had only asked me—I -didn't know your Majesty wanted me—I thought her Royal Highness—— -But of course I'll find your Majesty's sword for you." Did she -stroke his head as she said this? I have often wondered. It would be -like her impudence, and her motherliness, and her—-and, in fact, like -her. Euralia Past and Present is silent upon the point. Roger -Scurvilegs, who had only seen Belvane at the unimpressionable age of -two, would have had it against her if he could, so perhaps there is -nothing in it. -

- -

-"There!" she said, and she picked out the magic sword almost at once. -

- -

-[Illustration: "Try it on me," cried the Countess, verso][Illustration: "Try it on me," cried the Countess, recto] -

- -

-"Then I'll get back to my work," said Hyacinth cheerfully, and left -them to each other. -

- -

-The King, smiling happily, girded on his sword. But a sudden doubt -assailed him. -

- -

-"Are you sure it's the one?" -

- -

-"Try it on me," cried the Countess superbly, falling on her knees -and stretching up her arms to him. The toe of her little shoe touched -her diary; its presence there uplifted her. Even as she knelt she saw -herself describing the scene. How do you spell "offered"? she -wondered. -

- -

-I think the King was already in love with her, though he found it so -difficult to say the decisive words. But even so he could only have -been in love a week or two; a fortnight in the last forty years; and -he had worn a sword since he was twelve. In a crisis it is the old -love and not the greater love which wins (Roger's, but I think I agree -with him), and instinctively the King drew his sword. If it were -magic a scratch would kill. Now he would know. -

- -

-Her enemies said that the Countess could not go pale; she had her -faults, but this was not one of them. She whitened as she saw the -King standing over her with drawn sword. A hundred thoughts chased -each other through her mind. She wondered if the King would be sorry -afterwards; she wondered what the minstrels would sing of her, and if -her diary would ever be made public; most of all she wondered why she -had been such a fool, such a melodramatic fool. -

- -

-The King came to himself with a sudden start. Looking slightly -ashamed he put his sword back in its scabbard, coughed once or twice -to cover his confusion, and held his hand out to the Countess to -assist her to rise. -

- -

-"Don't be absurd, Countess," he said. "As if we could spare you at a -time like this. Sit down and let us talk matters over seriously." -

- -

-A trifle bewildered by the emotions she had gone through, Belvane sat -down, the beloved diary clasped tightly in her arms. Life seemed -singularly sweet just then, the only drawback being that the minstrels -would not be singing about her after all. Still, one cannot have -everything. -

- -

-The King walked up and down the room as he talked. -

- -

-"I am going away to fight," he said, "and I leave my dear daughter -behind. In my absence, her Royal Highness will of course rule the -country. I want her to feel that she can lean upon you, Countess, for -advice and support. I know that I can trust you, for you have just -given me a great proof of your devotion and courage." -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty!" said Belvane deprecatingly, but feeling very glad -that it hadn't been wasted. -

- -

-"Hyacinth is young and inexperienced. She needs a—a——" -

- -

-"A mother's guiding hand," said Belvane softly. -

- -

-The King started and looked away. It was really too late to propose -now; he had so much to do before the morrow. Better leave it till he -came back from the war. -

- -

-"You will have no official position," he went on hastily, "other than -your present one of Mistress of the Robes; but your influence on her -will be very great." -

- -

-The Countess had already decided on this. However there is a look -of modest resignation to an unsought duty which is suited to an -occasion of this kind, and the Countess had no difficulty in supplying -it. -

- -

-"I will do all that I can, your Majesty, to help—gladly; but will not -the Chancellor——" -

- -

-"The Chancellor will come with me. He is no fighter, but he is good -at spells." He looked round to make sure that they were alone, and -then went on confidentially, "He tells me that he has discovered in -the archives of the palace a Backward Spell of great value. Should he -be able to cast this upon the enemy at the first onslaught, he thinks -that our heroic army would have no difficulty in advancing." -

- -

-"But there will be other learned men," said Belvane innocently, "so -much more accustomed to affairs than us poor women, so much better -able"—("What nonsense I'm talking," she said to herself)—"to advise -her Royal Highness——" -

- -

-"Men like that," said the King, "I shall want with me also. If I am -to invade Barodia properly I shall need every man in the kingdom. -Euralia must be for the time a country of women only." He turned to -her with a smile and said gallantly, "That will be—er—— It -is—er—not—er——. One may well—er——" -

- -

-It was so obvious from his manner that something complimentary was -struggling to the surface of his mind, that Belvane felt it would be -kinder not to wait for it. -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty," she said, "you flatter my poor sex." -

- -

-"Not at all," said the King, trying to remember what he had said. He -held out his hand. "Well, Countess, I have much to do." -

- -

-"I, too, your Majesty." -

- -

-She made him a deep curtsey and, clasping tightly the precious diary, -withdrew. -

- -

-The King, who still seemed worried about something, returned to his -table and took up his pen. Here Hyacinth discovered him ten minutes -later. His table was covered with scraps of paper and, her eyes -lighting casually upon one of them, she read these remarkable words: -

- -

-"In such a land I should be a most contented subject." -

- -

-She looked at some of the others. They were even shorter: -

- -

-"That, dear Countess, would be my——" -

- -

-"A country in which even a King——" -

- -

-"Lucky country!" -

- -

-The last was crossed out and "Bad" written against it. -

- -

-"Whatever are these, Father?" said Hyacinth. -

- -

-The King jumped up in great confusion. -

- -

-"Nothing, dear, nothing," he said. "I was just—er—— Of course I -shall have to address my people, and I was just jotting down a few—— -However, I shan't want them now." He swept them together, screwed -them up tight, and dropped them into a basket. -

- -

-And what became of them? you ask. Did they light the fires of the -Palace next morning? Well, now, here's a curious thing. In Chapter X -of Euralia Past and Present I happened across these words: -

- -

-"The King and all the men of the land having left to fight the wicked -Barodians, Euralia was now a country of women only—a country in -which even a King might be glad to be a subject." -

- -

-Now what does this mean? Is it another example of literary theft? I -have already had to expose Shelley. Must I now drag into the light of -day a still worse plagiarism by Roger Scurvilegs? The waste-paper -baskets of the Palace were no doubt open to him as to so many -historians. But should he not have made acknowledgments? -

- -

-I do not wish to be hard on Roger. That I differ from him on many -points of historical fact has already been made plain, and will be -made still more plain as my story goes on. But I have a respect for -the man; and on some matters, particularly those concerning Prince Udo -of Araby's first appearance in Euralia, I have to rely entirely upon -him for my information. Moreover I have never hesitated to give him -credit for such of his epigrams as I have introduced into this book, -and I like to think that he would be equally punctilious to others. -We know his romantic way; no doubt the thought occurred to him -independently. Let us put it at that, anyhow. -

- -

-Belvane, meanwhile, was getting on. The King had drawn his sword on -her and she had not flinched. As a reward she was to be the power -behind the throne. -

- -

-"Not necessarily behind the throne," said Belvane to herself. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Hyacinth on the castle walls]

-

-CHAPTER IV -

- -

-THE PRINCESS HYACINTH LEAVES IT TO THE COUNTESS -

- -

-It is now time to introduce Wiggs to you, and I find myself in a -difficulty at once. What was Wiggs's position in the Palace? -

- -

-This story is hard to tell, for I have to piece it together from the -narratives of others, and to supply any gaps in their stories from my -knowledge of how the different characters might be expected to act. -Perhaps, therefore, it is a good moment in which to introduce to you -the authorities upon whom I rely. -

- -

-First and foremost, of course, comes Roger Scurvilegs. His monumental -work, Euralia Past and Present, in seventeen volumes, towers upon my -desk as I write. By the merest chance I picked it up (in a -metaphorical sense) at that little shop near—I forget its name, but -it's the third bookshop on the left as you come into London from the -New Barnet end. Upon him I depend for the broad lines of my story, -and I have already indicated my opinion of the value of his work. -

- -

-Secondly, come the many legends and ballads handed on to me years ago -by my aunt by marriage, one of the Cornish Smallnoses. She claims to -be a direct descendant of that Henry Smallnose whose lucky shot -brought about the events which I am to describe. I say she claims to -be, and one cannot doubt a lady's word in these matters; certainly she -used to speak about Henry with that mixture of pride and extreme -familiarity which comes best from a relation. In all matters not -touching Henry, I feel that I can rely upon her; in its main lines her -narrative is strictly confirmed by Scurvilegs, and she brought to it a -picturesqueness and an appreciation of the true character of Belvane -which is lacking in the other; but her attitude towards Henry -Smallnose was absurd. Indeed she would have had him the hero of the -story. This makes Roger and myself smile. We give him credit for the -first shot, and then we drop him. -

- -

-Thirdly, Belvane herself. Women like Belvane never die, and I met her -(or a reincarnation of her) at a country house in Shropshire last -summer. I forget what she calls herself now, but I recognised her at -once; and, as I watched her, the centuries rolled away and she and I -were in Euralia, that pleasant country, together. "Stayed to tea and -was very charming." Would she have said that of me, I wonder? But -I'm getting sentimental—Roger's great fault. -

- -

-These then are my authorities; I consult them, and I ask myself, What -was Wiggs? -

- -

-Roger speaks of her simply as an attendant upon the Princess. Now we -know that the Princess was seventeen; Wiggs then would be about the -same age—a lady-in-waiting—perhaps even a little older. Why not? -you say. The Lady Wiggs, maid-of-honour to her Royal Highness the -Princess Hyacinth, eighteen and a bit, tall and stately. Since she is -to endanger Belvane's plans, let her be something of a match for the -wicked woman. -

- -

-Yes, but you would never talk like that if you had heard one of my -aunt's stories. Nor if you had seen Belvane would you think that any -grown-up woman could be a match for her. -

- -

-Wiggs was a child; I feel it in my bones. In all the legends and -ballads handed down to me by my aunt she appears to me as a little -girl—Alice in a fairy story. Roger or no Roger I must have her a -child. -

- -

-And even Roger cannot keep up the farce that she is a real -lady-in-waiting. In one place he tells us that she dusts the throne -of the Princess; can you see her ladyship, eighteen last February, -doing that? At other times he allows her to take orders from the -Countess; I ask you to imagine a maid-of-honour taking orders from any -but her own mistress. Conceive her dignity! -

- -

-A little friend, then, of Hyacinth's, let us say; ready to do anything -for anybody who loved, or appeared to love, her mistress. -

- -

-The King had departed for the wars. His magic sword girded to his -side, his cloak of darkness, not worn but rolled up behind him, lest -the absence of his usual extensive shadow should disturb his horse, he -rode at the head of his men to meet the enemy. Hyacinth had seen him -off from the Palace steps. Five times he had come back to give her -his last instructions, and a sixth time for his sword, but now he was -gone, and she was alone on the castle walls with Wiggs. -

- -

-"Saying good-bye to fathers is very tiring," said Hyacinth. "I do -hope he'll be all right. Wiggs, although we oughtn't to mention it to -anybody, and although he's only just gone, we do think it will be -rather fun being Queen, don't we?" -

- -

-"It must be lovely," said Wiggs, gazing at her with large eyes. "Can -you really do whatever you like now?" -

- -

-Hyacinth nodded. -

- -

-"I always did whatever I liked," she said, "But now I really can -do it." -

- -

-"Could you cut anybody's head off?" -

- -

-"Easily," said the Princess confidently. -

- -

-"I should hate to cut anybody's head off." -

- -

-"So should I, Wiggs. Let's decide to have no heads off just at -present—till we're more used to it." -

- -

-Wiggs still kept her eyes fixed upon the Princess. -

- -

-"Which is stronger," she asked, "you or a Fairy?" -

- -

-"I knew you were going to ask something horrid like that," said -Hyacinth, pretending to be angry. She looked quickly round to see -that nobody was listening, and then whispered in Wiggs's ear, "I am." -

- -

-"O—oh!" said Wiggs. "How lovely!" -

- -

-"Isn't it? Did you ever hear the story of Father and the Fairy?" -

- -

-"His Majesty?" -

- -

-"His Majesty the King of Euralia. It happened in the forest one day -just after he became King." -

- -

-Did you ever hear the story? I expect not. Well, then, you must -hear it. But there will be too many inverted commas in it if I let -Hyacinth tell you, so I shall tell you myself. -

- -

-[Illustration: Five times he had come back to give her his last instructions, verso] -[Illustration: Five times he had come back to give her his last instructions, recto] -

- -

-It was just after he became King. He was so proud that he used to go -about saying, "I am the King. I am the King." And sometimes, "The -King am I. The King I am." He was saying this one day in the forest -when a Fairy overheard him. So she appeared in front of him and said, -"I believe you are the King?" -

- -

-"I am the King," said Merriwig. "I am the King, I am the——" -

- -

-"And yet," said the Fairy, "what is a King after all?" -

- -

-"It is a very powerful thing to be a King," said Merriwig proudly. -

- -

-"Supposing I were to turn you into a—a small sheep. Then where would -you be?" -

- -

-The King thought anxiously for a moment. -

- -

-"I should like to be a small sheep," he said. -

- -

-The Fairy waved her wand. -

- -

-"Then you can be one," she said, "until you own that a Fairy is much -more powerful than a King." -

- -

-So all at once he was a small sheep. -

- -

-"Well?" said the Fairy. -

- -

-"Well?" said the King. -

- -

-"Which is more powerful, a King or a Fairy?" -

- -

-"A King," said Merriwig. "Besides being more woolly," he added. -

- -

-There was silence for a little. Merriwig began to eat some grass. -

- -

-"I don't think much of Fairies," he said with his mouth full. "I -don't think they're very powerful." -

- -

-The Fairy looked at him angrily. -

- -

-"They can't make you say things you don't want to say," he explained. -

- -

-The Fairy stamped her foot. -

- -

-"Be a toad," she said, waving her wand. "A nasty, horrid, crawling -toad." -

- -

-"I've always wanted—" began Merriwig—"to be a toad," he ended from -lower down. -

- -

-"Well?" said the Fairy. -

- -

-"I don't think much of Fairies," said the King. "I don't think -they're very powerful." He waited for the Fairy to look at him, but -she pretended to be thinking of something else. After waiting a -minute or two, he added, "They can't make you say things you don't -want to say." -

- -

-The Fairy stamped her foot still more angrily, and moved her wand a -third time. -

- -

-"Be silent!" she commanded. "And stay silent for ever!" -

- -

-There was no sound in the forest. The Fairy looked at the blue sky -through the green roof above her; she looked through the tall trunks -of the trees to the King's castle beyond; her eyes fell upon the -little glade on her left, upon the mossy bank on her right . . . but -she would not look down to the toad at her feet. -

- -

-No, she wouldn't. . . . -

- -

-She wouldn't. . . . -

- -

-And yet—— -

- -

-It was too much for her. She could resist no longer. She looked at -the nasty, horrid, crawling toad, the dumb toad at her feet that was -once a King. -

- -

-And, catching her eye, the toad—winked. -

- -

-Some winks are more expressive than others. The Fairy knew quite well -what this one meant. It meant: -

- -

-"I don't think much of Fairies. I don't think they're very powerful. -They can't make you say things you don't want to say." -

- -

-The Fairy waved her wand in disgust. -

- -

-"Oh, be a King again," she said impatiently, and vanished. -

- -

-And so that is the story of how the King of Euralia met the Fairy in -the forest. Roger Scurvilegs tells it well—indeed, almost as well as -I do—but he burdens it with a moral. You must think it out for -yourself; I shall not give it to you. -

- -

-Wiggs didn't bother about the moral. Her elbows on her knees, her -chin resting on her hands, she gazed at the forest and imagined the -scene to herself. -

- -

-"How wonderful to be a King like that!" she thought. -

- -

-"That was a long time ago," explained Hyacinth. "Father must have -been rather lovely in those days," she added. -

- -

-"It was a very bad Fairy," said Wiggs. -

- -

-"It was a very stupid one. I wouldn't have given in to Father like -that." -

- -

-"But there are good Fairies, aren't there? I met one once." -

- -

-"You, child? Where?" -

- -

-I don't know if it would have made any difference to Euralian history -if Wiggs had been allowed to tell about her Fairy then; as it was, she -didn't tell the story till later on, when Belvane happened to be near. -I regret to say that Belvane listened. It was the sort of story that -always got overheard, she explained afterwards, as if that were any -excuse. On this occasion she was just too early to overhear, but in -time to prevent the story being told without her. -

- -

-"The Countess Belvane," said an attendant, and her ladyship made a -superb entry. -

- -

-"Good morning, Countess," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Good morning, your Royal Highness. Ah, Wiggs, sweet child," she -added carelessly, putting out a hand to pat the sweet child's head, -but missing it. -

- -

-"Wiggs was just telling me a story," said the Princess. -

- -

-"Sweet child," said Belvane, feeling vaguely for her with the other -hand. "Could I interrupt the story with a little business, your -Royal Highness?" -

- -

-At a nod from the Princess, Wiggs withdrew. -

- -

-"Well?" said Hyacinth nervously. -

- -

-Belvane had always a curious effect on the Princess when they were -alone together. There was something about her large manner which made -Hyacinth feel like a schoolgirl who has been behaving badly: alarmed -and apologetic. I feel like this myself when I have an interview with -my publishers, and Roger Scurvilegs (upon the same subject) drags in a -certain uncle of his before whom (so he says) he always appears at his -worst. It is a common experience. -

- -

-"Just one or two little schemes to submit to your Majesty," said the -Countess. "How silly of me—I mean, your Royal Highness. Of course -your Royal Highness may not like them at all, but in case your Royal -Highness did, I just—well, I just wrote them out." -

- -

-She unfolded, one by one, a series of ornamental parchments. -

- -

-"They are beautifully written," said the Princess. -

- -

-Belvane blushed at the compliment. She had a passion for coloured -inks and rulers. In her diary the day of the week was always -underlined in red, the important words in the day's doings being -frequently picked out in gold. On taking up the diary you saw at once -that you were in the presence of somebody. -

- -

-The first parchment was headed: -

- -

-SCHEME FOR ECONOMY IN REALM -

- -

-"Economy" caught the eye in pale pink. The next parchment was headed: -

- -

-SCHEME FOR SAFETY OF REALM -

- -

-"Safety" clamoured to you in blue. -

- -

-The third parchment was headed: -

- -

-SCHEME FOR ENCOURAGEMENT OF LITERATURE IN REALM -

- -

-"Encouragement of Literature" had got rather cramped in the small -quarters available for it. A heading, Belvane felt, should be in one -line; she had started in letters too big for it, and the fact that the -green ink was giving out made it impossible to start afresh. -

- -

-There were ten parchments altogether. -

- -

-By the end of the third one, the Princess began to feel uncomfortable. -

- -

-By the end of the fifth one she knew that it was a mistake her ever -having come into the Royal Family at all. -

- -

-By the end of the seventh she decided that if the Countess would -forgive her this time she would never be naughty again. -

- -

-By the end of the ninth one she was just going to cry. -

- -

-The tenth one was in a very loud orange and was headed: -

- -

-SCHEME FOR ASSISTING CALISTHENICS IN REALM -

- -

-"Yes," said the Princess faintly; "I think it would be a good idea." -

- -

-"I thought if your Royal Highness approved," said Belvane, "we might -just——" -

- -

-Hyacinth felt herself blushing guiltily—she couldn't think why. -

- -

-"I leave it to you, Countess," she murmured. "I am sure you know -best." -

- -

-It was a remark which she would never have made to her Father. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Hyacinth, reviewing the Army of Amazons] -

- -

-CHAPTER V -

- -

-BELVANE INDULGES HER HOBBY -

- -

-In a glade in the forest the Countess Belvane was sitting: her throne, -a fallen log, her courtiers, that imaginary audience which was always -with her. For once in her life she was nervous; she had an anxious -morning in front of her. -

- -

-I can tell you the reason at once. Her Royal Highness was going to -review her Royal Highness's Army of Amazons (see Scheme II, Safety of -Realm). In half an hour she would be here. -

- -

-And why not? you say. Could anything be more gratifying? -

- -

-I will tell you why not. There was no Army of Amazons. In order that -her Royal Highness should not know the sad truth, Belvane drew their -pay for them. 'Twas better thus. -

- -

-In any trouble Belvane comforted herself by reading up her diary. She -undid the enormous volume, and, idly turning the pages, read some of -the more delightful extracts to herself. -

- -

-"Monday, June 1st," she read. "Became bad." -

- -

-She gave a sigh of resignation to the necessity of being bad. Roger -Scurvilegs is of the opinion that she might have sighed a good many -years before. According to him she was born bad. -

- -

-"Tuesday, June 2nd," she read on. "Realised in the privacy of my -heart that I was destined to rule the country. Wednesday, June 3rd. -Decided to oust the Princess. Thursday, June 4th. Began ousting." -

- -

-What a confession for any woman—even for one who had become bad last -Monday! No wonder Belvane's diary was not for everybody. Let us look -over her shoulder and read some more of the wicked woman's -confessions. -

- -

-"Friday, June 5th. Made myself a——" Oh, that's quite private. -However we may read this: "Thought for the week. Beware lest you -should tumble down In reaching for another's crown." An admirable -sentiment which Roger Scurvilegs would have approved, although he -could not have rhymed it so neatly. -

- -

-The Countess turned on a few more pages and prepared to write up -yesterday's events. -

- -

-"Tuesday, June 23rd," she said to herself. "Now what happened? -Acclaimed with enthusiasm outside the Palace—how do you spell -'enthusiasm'?" She bit the end of her pencil and pondered. She -turned back the pages till she came to the place. -

- -

-"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "It had three 's's' last time, so it's -'z's' turn." -

- -

-She wrote "enthuzziazm" lightly in pencil; later on it would be picked -out in gold. -

- -

-She closed the diary hastily. Somebody was coming. -

- -

-It was Wiggs. -

- -

-"Oh, if you please, your Ladyship, her Royal Highness sent me to tell -you that she would be here at eleven o'clock to review her new army." -

- -

-It was the last thing of which Belvane wanted reminding. -

- -

-"Ah, Wiggs, sweet child," she said, "you find me overwhelmed." She -gave a tragic sigh. "Leader of the Corps de Ballet"—she indicated -with her toe how this was done, "Commander-in-Chief of the Army of -Amazons"—here she saluted, and it was certainly the least she could -do for the money, "Warden of the Antimacassars and Grand Mistress of -the Robes, I have a busy life. Just come and dust this log for her -Royal Highness. All this work wears me out, Wiggs, but it is my duty -and I do it." -

- -

-"Woggs says you make a very good thing out of it," said Wiggs -innocently, as she began to dust. "It must be nice to make very good -things out of things." -

- -

-The Countess looked coldly at her. It is one thing to confide to your -diary that you are bad, it's quite another to have Woggsseses shouting -it out all over the country. -

- -

-"I don't know what Woggs is," said Belvane sternly, "but send it to me -at once." -

- -

-As soon as Wiggs was gone, Belvane gave herself up to her passions. -She strode up and down the velvety sward, saying to herself, "Bother! -Bother! Bother! Bother!" Her outbreak of violence over, she sat -gloomily down on the log and abandoned herself to despair. Her hair -fell in two plaits down her back to her waist; on second thoughts she -arranged them in front—if one is going to despair one may as well do -it to the best advantage. -

- -

-Suddenly a thought struck her. -

- -

-"I am alone," she said. "Dare I soliloquise? I will. It is a thing -I have not done for weeks. 'Oh, what a——" She got up quickly. -"Nobody could soliloquise on a log like that," she said crossly. -She decided she could do it just as effectively when standing. With -one pale hand raised to the skies she began again. -

- -

-"Oh, what a—" -

- -

-"Did you call me, Mum?" said Woggs, appearing suddenly. -

- -

-"Bother!" said Belvane. She gave a shrug of resignation. "Another -time," she told herself. She turned to Woggs. -

- -

-Woggs must have been quite close at hand to have been found by Wiggs -so quickly, and I suspect her of playing in the forest when she ought -to have been doing her lessons, or mending stockings, or whatever made -up her day's work. Woggs I find nearly as difficult to explain as -Wiggs; it is a terrible thing for an author to have a lot of people -running about his book, without any invitation from him at all. -However, since Woggs is there, we must make the best of her. I fancy -that she was a year or two younger than Wiggs and of rather inferior -education. Witness her low innuendo about the Lady Belvane, and the -fact that she called a Countess "Mum." -

- -

-"Come here," said Belvane. "Are you what they call Woggs?" -

- -

-"Please, Mum," said Woggs nervously. -

- -

-The Countess winced at the "Mum," but went on bravely. "What have you -been saying about me?" -

- -

-"N—Nothing, Mum." -

- -

-Belvane winced again, and said, "Do you know what I do to little girls -who say things about me? I cut their heads off; I——" She tried to -think of something very alarming! "I—I stop their jam for tea. I—I -am most annoyed with them." -

- -

-Woggs suddenly saw what a wicked thing she had done. -

- -

-"Oh, please, Mum," she said brokenly and fell on her knees. -

- -

-"Don't call me 'Mum,'" burst out Belvane. "It's so ugly. Why do -you suppose I ever wanted to be a countess at all, Woggs, if it wasn't -so as not to be called 'Mum' any more?" -

- -

-"I don't know, Mum," said Woggs. -

- -

-Belvane gave it up. The whole morning was going wrong anyhow. -

- -

-"Come here, child," she sighed, "and listen. You have been a very -naughty girl, but I'm going to let you off this time, and in return -I've something you are going to do for me." -

- -

-"Yes, Mum," said Woggs. -

- -

-Belvane barely shuddered now. A sudden brilliant plan had come to -her. -

- -

-"Her Royal Highness is about to review her Army of Amazons. It is a -sudden idea of her Royal Highness's, and it comes at an unfortunate -moment, for it so happens that the Army is—er——" What was the -Army doing? Ah, yes—"manoeuvring in a distant part of the country. -But we must not disappoint her Royal Highness. What then shall we do, -Woggs?" -

- -

-"I don't know, Mum," said Woggs stolidly. -

- -

-Not having expected any real assistance from her, the Countess went -on, "I will tell you. You see yonder tree? Armed to the teeth you -will march round and round it, giving the impression to one on this -side of a large army passing. For this you will be rewarded. Here -is——" She felt in the bag she carried. "No, on second thoughts I -will owe it to you. Now you quite understand?" -

- -

-"Yes, Mum," said Woggs. -

- -

-"Very well, then. Run along to the Palace and get a sword and a -helmet and a bow and an arrow and an—an arrow and anything you like, -and then come back here and wait behind those bushes. When I clap my -hands the army will begin to march." -

- -

-Woggs curtsied and ran off. -

- -

-It is probable that at this point the Countess would have resumed her -soliloquy, but we shall never know, for the next moment the Princess -and her Court were seen approaching from the other end of the glade. -Belvane advanced to meet them. -

- -

-"Good morning, your Royal Highness," she said, "a beautiful day, is it -not?" -

- -

-"Beautiful, Countess." -

- -

-With the Court at her back, Hyacinth for the moment was less nervous -than usual, but almost at the first words of the Countess she felt her -self-confidence oozing from her. Did I say I was like this with my -publishers? And Roger's dragged-in Uncle——one can't explain it. -

- -

-The Court stood about in picturesque attitudes while Belvane went on: -

- -

-"Your Royal Highness's brave Women Defenders, the Home Defence Army of -Amazons" (here she saluted; one soon gets into the knack of it, and it -gives an air of efficiency) "have looked forward to this day for -weeks. How their hearts fill with pride at the thought of being -reviewed by your Royal Highness!" -

- -

-She had paid, or rather received, the money for the Army so often that -she had quite got to believe in its existence. She even kept a roll of -the different companies (it meant more delightful red ink for one -thing), and wrote herself little notes recommending Corporal Gretal -Hottshott for promotion to sergeant. -

- -

-"I know very little about armies, I'm afraid," said Hyacinth. "I've -always left that to my father. But I think it's a sweet idea of yours -to enrol the women to defend me. It's a little expensive, is it not?" -

- -

-"Your Royal Highness, armies are always expensive." -

- -

-The Princess took her seat, and beckoned Wiggs with a smile to her -side. The Court, in attitudes even more picturesque than before, -grouped itself behind her. -

- -

-"Is your Royal Highness ready?" -

- -

-"Quite ready, Countess." -

- -

-The Countess clapped her hands. -

- -

-There was a moment's hesitation, and then, armed to the teeth, Amazon -after Amazon marched by. . . . -

- -

-An impressive scene. . . . -

- -

-However, Wiggs must needs try to spoil it. -

- -

-"Why, it's Woggs!" she cried. -

- -

-"Silly child!" said Belvane in an undertone, giving her a push. -

- -

-The Princess looked round inquiringly. -

- -

-"The absurd creature," explained the Countess, "thought she recognized -a friend in your Royal Highness's gallant Army." -

- -

-"How clever of her! They all look exactly alike to me." -

- -

-Belvane was equal to the occasion. -

- -

-"The uniform and discipline of an army have that effect rather," she -said. "It has often been noticed." -

- -

-"I suppose so," said the Princess vaguely. "Oughtn't they to march in -fours? I seem to remember, when I came to reviews with Father——" -

- -

-"Ah, your Royal Highness, that was an army of men. With women—well, -we found that if they marched side by side, they would talk all the -time." -

- -

-The Court, which had been resting on the right leg with the left knee -bent, now rested on the left leg with the right knee bent. Woggs also -was getting tired. The last company of the Army of Amazons was not -marching with the abandon of the first company. -

- -

-[Illustration: Armed to the teeth, Amazon after Amazon marched by, verso] -[Illustration: Armed to the teeth, Amazon after Amazon marched by, recto] -

- -

-"I think I should like them to halt now so that I can address them," -said Hyacinth. -

- -

-Belvane was taken aback for the moment. -

- -

-"I am afraid, your—your Royal Highness," she stammered, her brain -working busily all the time, "that that would be contrary to—to—to -the spirit of—er—the King's Regulations. An army—an army in -marching order—must—er—march." She made a long forward movement -with her hand. "Must march," she repeated, with an innocent smile. -

- -

-"I see," said Hyacinth, blushing guiltily again. -

- -

-Belvane gave a loud cough. The last veteran but two of the Army -looked inquiringly at her and passed. The last veteran but one came -in and was greeted with a still louder cough. Rather tentatively the -last veteran of all entered and met such an unmistakable frown that it -was obvious that the march-past was over. . . . Woggs took off her -helmet and rested in the bushes. -

- -

-"That is all, your Royal Highness," said Belvane. "158 marches past, -217 reported sick, making 622; 9 are on guard at the Palace—632 and 9 -make 815. Add 28 under age and we bring it up to the round thousand." -

- -

-Wiggs opened her mouth to say something, but decided that her mistress -would probably wish to say it instead. Hyacinth, however, merely -looked unhappy. -

- -

-Belvane came a little nearer. -

- -

-"I—er—forgot if I mentioned to your Royal Highness that we are -paying out today. One silver piece a day and several days in the -week, multiplied by—how many did I say?—comes to ten thousand pieces -of gold." She produced a document, beautifully ruled. "If your Royal -Highness would kindly initial here——" -

- -

-Mechanically the Princess signed. -

- -

-"Thank you, your Royal Highness. And now perhaps I had better go and -see about it at once." -

- -

-She curtsied deeply, and then, remembering her position, saluted and -marched off. -

- -

-Now Roger Scurvilegs would see her go without a pang; he would then -turn over to his next chapter, beginning "Meanwhile the King——," and -leave you under the impression that the Countess Belvane was a common -thief. I am no such chronicler as that. At all costs I will be fair -to my characters. -

- -

-Belvane, then, had a weakness. She had several of which I have -already told you, but this is another one. She had a passion for the -distribution of largesse. -

- -

-I know an old gentleman who plays bowls every evening. He trundles -his skip (or whatever he calls it) to one end of the green, toddles -after it, and trundles it back again. Think of him for a moment, and -then think of Belvane on her cream-white palfrey tossing a bag of gold -to right of her and flinging a bag of gold to left of her, as she -rides through the cheering crowds; upon my word I think hers is the -more admirable exercise. -

- -

-And, I assure you, no less exacting. When once one has got into this -habit of "flinging" or "tossing" money, to give it in any ordinary -way, to slide it gently into the palm, is unbearable. Which of us who -has, in an heroic moment, flung half a crown to a cabman can ever be -content afterwards to hold out a handful of three-penny bits and -coppers to him? One must always be flinging. . . . -

- -

-So it was with Belvane. The largesse habit had got hold of her. It -is an expensive habit, but her way of doing it was less expensive than -most. The people were taxed to pay for the Amazon Army; the pay of -the Amazon Army was flung back at them; could anything be fairer? -

- -

-True, it brought her admiration and applause. But what woman does not -like admiration? Is that an offence? If it is, it is something very -different from the common theft of which Roger Scurvilegs would accuse -her. Let us be fair. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of sleeping king] -

- -

-CHAPTER VI -

- -

-THERE ARE NO WIZARDS IN BARODIA -

- -

-Meanwhile "the King of Euralia was prosecuting the war with utmost -vigour." -

- -

-So says Roger in that famous chapter of his, and certainly Merriwig -was very busy. -

- -

-On the declaration of war the Euralian forces, in accordance with -custom, had marched into Barodia. However hot ran the passion between -them, the two Kings always preserved the elementary courtesies of war. -The last battle had taken place in Euralian territory; this time, -therefore, Barodia was the scene of the conflict. To Barodia, then, -King Merriwig had led his army. Suitable pasture land had been -allotted them as a camping ground, and amid the cheers of the Barodian -populace the Euralians made their simple preparations for the night. -

- -

-The two armies had now been sitting opposite to each other for some -weeks, but neither side had been idle. On the very first morning -Merriwig had put on his Cloak of Darkness and gone to the enemy's camp -to explore the situation. Unfortunately the same idea had occurred at -the same moment to the King of Barodia. He also had his Cloak of -Darkness. -

- -

-Half way across, to the utmost astonishment of both, the two Kings had -come violently into contact. Realising that they had met some -unprecedented enchantment, they had hurried home after the recoil to -consult their respective Chancellors. The Chancellors could make -nothing of it. They could only advise their Majesties to venture -another attempt on the following morning. -

- -

-"But by a different route," said the Chancellors, "whereby the Magic -Pillar shall be avoided." -

- -

-So by the more southerly path the two Kings ventured out next morning. -Half way across there was another violent collision, and both Kings -sat down suddenly to think it out. -

- -

-"Wonder of wonders," said Merriwig. "There is a magic wall stretching -between the two armies." -

- -

-"He stood up and holding up his hand said impressively: -

- -

- "Bo, boll, bill, bole.
-  Wo, woll——"
-

- -

-"Mystery of mysteries!" cried the King of Barodia. "It can——" -

- -

-He stopped suddenly. Both Kings coughed. They were remembering with -some shame their fright of yesterday. -

- -

-"Who are you?" said the King of Barodia. -

- -

-Merriwig saw that there was need to dissemble. -

- -

-"His Majesty's swineherd," he said, in what he imagined might be a -swineherd's voice. -

- -

-"Er—so am I," said the King of Barodia, rather feebly. -

- -

-There was obviously nothing for it but for them to discuss swine. -

- -

-Merriwig was comfortably ignorant of the subject. The King of Barodia -knew rather less than that. -

- -

-"Er—how many have you?" asked the latter. -

- -

-"Seven thousand," said Merriwig at random. -

- -

-"Er—so have I," said the King of Barodia, still more feebly. -

- -

-"Couples," explained Merriwig. -

- -

-"Mine are ones," said the King of Barodia, determined to be -independent at last. -

- -

-Each King was surprised to find how easy it was to talk to an expert -on his own subject. The King of Barodia, indeed, began to feel -reckless. -

- -

-"Well," he said, "I must be getting back. It's—er—milking time." -

- -

-"So must I," said Merriwig. "By the way," he added, "what do you feed -yours on?" -

- -

-The King of Barodia was not quite sure if it was apple sauce or not. -He decided that perhaps it wasn't. -

- -

-"That's a secret," he said darkly. "Been handed down from generation -to generation." -

- -

-Merriwig could think of nothing better to say to this than "Ah!" He -said it very impressively, and with a word of farewell returned to his -camp. -

- -

-He was in brilliant form over the wassail bowl that night as he drew a -picture of his triumphant dissimulation. It is only fair to say that -the King of Barodia was in brilliant form too. . . . -

- -

-For several weeks after this the battle raged. Sometimes the whole -Euralian army would line up outside its camp and call upon the -Barodians to fight; at other times the Barodian army would form fours -in full view of the Euralians in the hope of provoking a conflict. At -intervals the two Chancellors would look up old spells, scour the -country for wizards, or send each other insulting messages. At the -end of a month it was difficult to say which side had obtained the -advantage. -

- -

-A little hill surmounted by a single tree lay half way between the two -camps. Thither one fine morning came the two Kings and the two -Chancellors on bloody business bent. (The phrase is Roger's.) Their -object was nothing less than to arrange that personal fight between -the two monarchs which was always a feature of Barodo-Euralian -warfare. The two Kings having shaken hands, their Chancellors -proceeded to settle the details. -

- -

-"I suppose," said the Chancellor of Barodia, "that your Majesties will -wish to fight with swords?" -

- -

-"Certainly," said the King of Barodia promptly; so promptly that -Merriwig felt certain that he had a Magic Sword too. -

- -

-"Cloaks of Darkness are not allowed, of course," said the Chancellor -of Euralia. -

- -

-"Why, have you got one?" said each King quickly to the other. -

- -

-Merriwig was the first to recover himself. -

- -

-"I have one—naturally," he said. "It's a curious thing that the only -one of my subjects who has one is my—er—swineherd." -

- -

-"That's funny," said the King of Barodia. "My swineherd has one too." -

- -

-"Of course," said Merriwig, "they are almost a necessity to -swineherding." -

- -

-"Particularly in the milking season," said the King of Barodia. -

- -

-They looked at each other with added respect. Not many Kings in those -days had the technicalities of such a humble trade at their fingers' -ends. -

- -

-The Chancellor of Barodia has been referring to the precedents. -

- -

-"It was after the famous conflict between the two grandfathers of your -Majesties that the use of the Magic Cloak in personal combats was -discontinued." -

- -

-"Great-grandfathers," said the Chancellor of Euralia. -

- -

-"Grandfathers, I think." -

- -

-"Great-grandfathers, if I am not mistaken." -

- -

-Their tempers were rising rapidly, and the Chancellor of Barodia was -just about to give the Chancellor of Euralia a push when Merriwig -intervened. -

- -

-"Never mind about that," he said impatiently. "Tell us what happened -when our—our ancestors fought." -

- -

-"It happened in this way, your Majesty. Your Majesty's -grandfather——" -

- -

-"Great-grandfather," said a small voice. -

- -

-The Chancellor cast one bitter look at his opponent and went on: -

- -

-"The ancestors of your two Majesties arranged to settle the war of -that period by personal combat. The two armies were drawn up in full -array. In front of them the two monarchs shook hands. Drawing their -swords and casting their Magic Cloaks around them, they——" -

- -

-"Well?" said Merriwig eagerly. -

- -

-"It is rather a painful story, your Majesty." -

- -

-"Go on, I shan't mind." -

- -

-"Well, your Majesty, drawing their swords and casting their Magic -Cloaks around them they—h'r'm—returned to the wassail bowl." -

- -

-"Dear, dear," said Merriwig. -

- -

-[Illustration: When the respective armies returned to camp they found -their Majesties asleep, verso] -[Illustration: When the respective armies returned to camp they found -their Majesties asleep, recto] -

- -

-"When the respective armies, who had been waiting eagerly the whole of -the afternoon for some result of the combat, returned to camp, they -found their Majesties——" -

- -

-"Asleep," said the Chancellor of Euralia hastily. -

- -

-"Asleep," agreed the Chancellor of Barodia. "The excuse of their two -Majesties that they had suddenly forgotten the day, though naturally -accepted at the time, was deemed inadequate by later historians." (By -Roger and myself, anyway.) -

- -

-Some further details were discussed, and then the conference closed. -The great fight was fixed for the following morning. -

- -

-The day broke fine. At an early hour Merriwig was up and practising -thrusts upon a suspended pillow. At intervals he would consult a -little book entitled Sword Play for Sovereigns, and then return to -his pillow. At breakfast he was nervous but talkative. After -breakfast he wrote a tender letter to Hyacinth and a still more tender -one to the Countess Belvane, and burnt them. He repeated his little -rhyme, "Bo, Boll, Bill, Bole," several times to himself until he was -word perfect. It was just possible that it might be useful. His last -thoughts as he rode on to the field were of his great-grandfather. -Without admiring him, he quite saw his point. -

- -

-The fight was a brilliant one. First Merriwig aimed a blow at the -King of Barodia's head which the latter parried. Then the King of -Barodia aimed a blow at his adversary's head which Merriwig parried. -This went on three or four times, and then Merriwig put into practice -a remarkable trick which the Captain of his Bodyguard had taught him. -It was his turn to parry, but instead of doing this, he struck again -at his opponent's head; and if the latter in sheer surprise had not -stumbled and fallen, there might have been a very serious ending to -the affair. -

- -

-Noon found them still at it; cut and parry, cut and parry; at each -stroke the opposing armies roared their applause. When darkness put an -end to the conflict, honours were evenly divided. -

- -

-It was a stiff but proud King of Euralia who received the -congratulations of his subjects that night; so proud that he had to -pour out his heart to somebody. He wrote to his daughter. -

- -

-"MY DEAR HYACINTH, -

- -

-"You will be glad to hear that your father is going on well and that -Euralia is as determined as ever to uphold its honour and dignity. -To-day I fought the King of Barodia, and considering that, most -unfairly, he was using a Magic Sword, I think I may say that I did -well. The Countess Belvane will be interested to hear that I made -4,638 strokes at my opponent and parried 4,637 strokes from him. This -is good for a man of my age. Do you remember that magic ointment my -aunt used to give me? Have we any of it left? -

- -

-"I played a very clever trick the other day by pretending to be a -swineherd. I talked to a real one I met for quite a long time about -swine without his suspecting me. The Countess might be interested to -hear this. It would have been very awkward for me if it had been -found out who I was. -

- -

-"I hope you are getting along all right. Do you consult the Countess -Belvane at all? I think she would be able to advise you in any -difficulties. A young girl needs a guiding hand, and I think the -Countess would be able to advise you in any difficulties. Do you -consult her at all? -

- -

-"I am afraid this is going to be a long war. There doesn't seem to be -a wizard in the country at all, and without one it is a little -difficult to know how to go on. I say my spell every now and -then—you remember the one: -

- -

- 'Bo, boll, bill bole.
- Wo, woll, will, wole. '
-

- -

-and it certainly keeps off dragons, but we don't seem to get any -nearer defeating the enemy's army. You might tell the Countess -Belvane that about my spell; she would be interested. -

- -

-"To-morrow I go on with my fight with the King of Barodia. I feel -quite confident now that I can hold him. He parries well, but his -cutting is not very good. I am glad the Countess found my sword for -me; tell her that it has been most useful. -

- -

-"I must now close as I must go to bed so as to be ready for my fight -to-morrow. Good-bye, dear. I am always, -

- -

- "YOUR LOVING FATHER.       
-

- -

-"P.S.—I hope you are not finding your position too difficult. If you -are in any difficulties you should consult the Countess Belvane. I -think she would be able to advise you. Don't forget about that -ointment. Perhaps the Countess might know about some other kind. -It's for stiffness. I am afraid this is going to be a long war." -

- -

-The King sealed up the letter and despatched it by special messenger -the next morning. It came to Hyacinth at a critical moment. We shall -see in the next chapter what effect it had upon her. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Wiggs meeting her Fairy] -

- -

-CHAPTER VII -

- -

-THE PRINCESS RECEIVES A LETTER AND WRITES ONE -

- -

-The Princess Hyacinth came in from her morning's ride in a very bad -temper. She went straight up to her favourite seat on the castle -walls and sent for Wiggs. -

- -

-"Wiggs," she said, "what's the matter with me?" -

- -

-Wiggs looked puzzled. She had been dusting the books in the library; -and when you dust books you simply must stop every now and then to -take just one little peep inside, and then you look inside another one -and another one, and by the time you have finished dusting, your head -is so full of things you have seen that you have to be asked questions -very slowly indeed. -

- -

-"I'm pretty, aren't I?" went on Hyacinth. -

- -

-That was an easy one. -

- -

-"Lovely!" said Wiggs, with a deep breath. -

- -

-"And I'm not unkind to anybody?" -

- -

-"Unkind!" said Wiggs indignantly. -

- -

-"Then why—oh, Wiggs, I know it's silly of me, but it hurts me that -my people are so much fonder of the Countess than of me." -

- -

-"Oh, I'm sure they're not, your Royal Highness." -

- -

-"Well, they cheer her much louder than they cheer me." -

- -

-Wiggs tried to think of a way of comforting her mistress, but her head -was still full of the last book she had dusted. -

- -

-"Why should they be so fond of her?" demanded Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Perhaps because she's so funny," said Wiggs. -

- -

-"Funny! Is she funny?" said the Princess coldly. "She doesn't make -me laugh." -

- -

-"Well, it was funny of her to make Woggs march round and round that -tree like that, wasn't it?" -

- -

-"Like what? You don't mean——" The Princess's eyes were wide open -with astonishment. "Was that Woggs all the time?" -

- -

-"Yes, your Royal Highness. Wasn't it lovely and funny of her?" -

- -

-The Princess looked across to the forest and nodded to herself. -

- -

-"Yes. That's it. Wiggs, I don't believe there has ever been an Army -at all. . . . And I pay them every week!" She added solemnly, "There -are moments when I don't believe that woman is quite honest." -

- -

-"Do you mean she isn't good?" asked Wiggs in awe. -

- -

-Hyacinth nodded. -

- -

-"I'm never good," said Wiggs firmly. -

- -

-"What do you mean, silly? You're the best little girl in Euralia." -

- -

-"I'm not. I do awful things sometimes. Do you know what I did -yesterday?" -

- -

-"Something terrible!" smiled Hyacinth. -

- -

-"I tore my apron." -

- -

-"You baby! That isn't being bad," said Hyacinth absently. She was -still thinking of that awful review. -

- -

-"The Countess says it is." -

- -

-"The Countess!" -

- -

-"Do you know why I want to be very good?" said Wiggs, coming up -close to the Princess. -

- -

-"Why, dear?" -

- -

-"Because then I could dance like a fairy." -

- -

-"Is that how it's done?" asked the Princess, rather amused. "The -Countess must dance very heavily." She suddenly remembered -something and added: "Why, of course, child, you were going to tell -me about a fairy you met, weren't you? That was weeks ago, though. -Tell me now. It will help me to forget things which make me rather -angry." -

- -

-It was a simple little story. There must have been many like it in -the books which Wiggs had been dusting; but these were simple times, -and the oldest story always seemed new. -

- -

-Wiggs had been by herself in the forest. A baby rabbit had run past -her, terrified; a ferret in pursuit. Wiggs had picked the little -fluffy thing up in her arms and comforted it; the ferret had slowed -down, walked past very indifferently with its hands, as it were, in -its pockets, hesitated a moment, and then remembered an important -letter which it had forgotten to post. Wiggs was left alone with the -baby rabbit, and before she knew where she was, the rabbit was gone -and there was a fairy in front of her. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"You have saved my life," said the fairy. "That was a wicked magician -after me, and if he had caught me then, he would have killed me." -

- -

-"Please, your Fairiness, I didn't know fairies could die," said -Wiggs. -

- -

-"They can when they take on animal shape or human shape. He could not -hurt me now, but before——" She shuddered. -

- -

-"I'm so glad you're all right now," said Wiggs politely. -

- -

-"Thanks to you, my child. I must reward you. Take this ring. When -you have been good for a whole day, you can have one good wish; when -you have been bad for a whole day, you can have one bad wish. One -good wish and one bad wish—that is all it will allow anybody to -have." -

- -

-With these words she vanished and left Wiggs alone with the ring. -

- -

-So, ever after that, Wiggs tried desperately hard to be good and have -the good wish, but it was difficult work. Something always went wrong; -she tore her apron or read books when she ought to have been dusting, -or—— Well, you or I would probably have given it up at once, and -devoted ourselves to earning the bad wish. But Wiggs was a nice -little girl. -

- -

-"And, oh, I do so want to be good," said Wiggs earnestly to the -Princess, "so that I could wish to dance like a fairy." She had a -sudden anxiety. "That is a good wish, isn't it?" -

- -

-"It's a lovely wish; but I'm sure you could dance now if you tried." -

- -

-"I can't," said Wiggs. "I always dance like this." -

- -

-She jumped up and danced a few steps. Wiggs was a dear little girl, -but her dancing reminded you of a very dusty road going up-hill all -the way, with nothing but suet-puddings waiting for you on the top. -Something like that. -

- -

-"It isn't really graceful, is it?" she said candidly, as she came to -rest. -

- -

-"Well, I suppose the fairies do dance better than that." -

- -

-"So that's why I want to be good, so as I can have my wish." -

- -

-"I really must see this ring," said the Princess. "It sounds -fascinating." She looked coldly in front of her and added, -"Good-morning, Countess." (How long had the woman been there?) -

- -

-"Good-morning, your Royal Highness. I ventured to come up -unannounced. Ah, sweet child." She waved a caressing hand at Wiggs. -

- -

-(Even if she had overheard anything, it had only been child's talk.) -

- -

-"What is it?" asked the Princess. She took a firm hold of the arms of -her chair. She would not, not, not give way to the Countess -this time. -

- -

-"The merest matter of business, your Royal Highness. Just this scheme -for the Encouragement of Literature. Your Royal Highness very wisely -decided that in the absence of the men on the sterner business of -fighting it was the part of us women to encourage the gentler arts; -and for this purpose . . . there was some talk of a competition, -and—er——" -

- -

-"Ah, yes," said Hyacinth nervously. "I will look into that -to-morrow." -

- -

-"A competition," said Belvane, gazing vaguely over Hyacinth's head. -"Some sort of a money prize," she added, as if in a trance. -

- -

-"There should certainly be some sort of a prize," agreed the Princess. -(Why not, she asked herself, if one is to encourage literature?) -

- -

-"Bags of gold," murmured Belvane to herself. "Bags and bags of gold. -Big bags of silver and little bags of gold." She saw herself tossing -them to the crowd. -

- -

-"Well, we'll go into that to-morrow," said Hyacinth hastily. -

- -

-"I have it all drawn up here," said Belvane. "Your Royal Highness has -only to sign. It saves so much trouble," she added with a disarming -smile. . . . She held the document out—all in the most beautiful -colours. -

- -

-Mechanically the Princess signed. -

- -

-"Thank you, your Royal Highness." She smiled again, and added, "And -now perhaps I had better see about it at once." The Guardian of -Literature took a dignified farewell of her Sovereign and withdrew. -

- -

-Hyacinth looked at Wiggs in despair. -

- -

-"There!" she said. "That's me. I don't know what it is about that -woman, but I feel just a child in front of her. Oh, Wiggs, Wiggs, I -feel so lonely sometimes with nothing but women all around me. I wish -I had a man here to help me." -

- -

-"Are all the men fighting in all the countries?" -

- -

-"Not all the countries. There's—Araby. Don't you remember—oh, but -of course you wouldn't know anything about it. But Father was just -going to ask Prince Udo of Araby to come here on a visit, when the war -broke out. Oh, I wish, I wish Father were back again." She laid -her head on her arms; and whether she would have shed a few royal -tears or had a good homely cry, I cannot tell you. For at that moment -an attendant came in. Hyacinth was herself again at once. -

- -

-"There is a messenger approaching on a horse, your Royal Highness," -she announced. "Doubtless from His Majesty's camp." -

- -

-With a shriek of delight, and an entire lack of royal dignity, the -Princess, followed by the faithful Wiggs, rushed down to receive him. -

- -

-Meanwhile, what of the Countess? She was still in the Palace, and, -more than that, she was in the Throne Room of the Palace, and, more -even than that, she was on the Throne, of the Throne Room of the -Palace. -

- -

-She couldn't resist it. The door was open as she came down from her -interview with the Princess, and she had to go in. There was a woman -in there, tidying up, who looked questioningly at Belvane as she -entered. -

- -

-"You may leave," said the Countess with dignity. "Her Royal Highness -sent me in here to wait for her." -

- -

-The woman curtsied and withdrew. -

- -

-The Countess then uttered these extraordinary words: -

- -

-"When I am Queen in Euralia they shall leave me backwards!" -

- -

-Her subsequent behaviour was even more amazing. -

- -

-She stood by the side of the door, and putting her hand to her mouth -said shrilly, "Ter-rum, ter-rum, terrumty-umty-um." Then she took her -hand away and announced loudly, "Her Majesty Queen Belvane the First!" -after which she cheered slightly. -

- -

-Then in came Her Majesty, a very proper dignified gracious Queen—none -of your seventeen-year-old chits. Bowing condescendingly from side to -side she made her way to the Throne, and with a sweep of her train she -sat down. -

- -

-Courtiers were presented to her; representatives from foreign -countries; Prince Hanspatch of Tregong, Prince Ulric, the Duke of -Highanlow. -

- -

-"Ah, my dear Prince Hanspatch," she cried, stretching out her hand to -the right of her; "and you, dear Prince Ulric," with a graceful -movement of the left arm towards him; "and, dear Duke, you also!" -Her right hand, which Prince Hanspatch had by now finished with, went -out to the Duke of Highanlow that he too might kiss it. -

- -

-But it was arrested in mid-air. She felt rather than saw that the -Princess was watching her in amazement from the doorway. -

- -

-Without looking round she stretched out again first one arm and then -the other. Then, as if she had just seen the Princess, she jumped up -in a pretty confusion. -

- -

-"Oh, your Royal Highness," she cried, "you caught me at my physical -exercises!" She gave a self-conscious little laugh. "My physical -exercises—a forearm movement." Once again she stretched out her arm. -"Building up the—er—building up—building up——" -

- -

-Her voice died away, for the Princess still looked coldly at her. -

- -

-"Charming, Countess," she said. "I am sorry to interrupt you, but I -have some news for you. You will like to know that I am inviting -Prince Udo of Araby here on a visit. I feel we want a little outside -help in our affairs." -

- -

-"Prince Udo?" cried the Countess. "Here?" -

- -

-"Have you any objection?" said Hyacinth. She found it easier to be -stern now, for the invitation had already been sent off by the hand of -the King's Messenger. Nothing that the Countess could say could -influence her. -

- -

-"No objection, your Royal Highness; but it seems so strange. And then -the expense! Men are such hearty eaters. Besides," she looked with a -charming smile from the Princess to Wiggs, "we were all getting on so -nicely together! Of course if he just dropped in for afternoon tea -one day——" -

- -

-"He will make a stay of some months, I hope." There were no wizards -in Barodia, and therefore the war would be a long one. It was this -which had decided Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Of course," said Belvane, "whatever your Royal Highness wishes, but I -do think that His Majesty——" -

- -

-"My dear Countess," said Hyacinth, with a smile, "the invitation has -already gone, so there's nothing more to be said, is there? Had you -finished your exercises? Yes? Then, Wiggs, will you conduct her -ladyship downstairs?" -

- -

-She turned and left her. The Countess watched her go, and then stood -tragically in the middle of the room, clasping her diary to her -breast. -

- -

-"This is terrible!" she said. "I feel years older." She held out -her diary at arm's length and said in a gloomy voice, "What an entry -for to-morrow!" The thought cheered her up a little. She began to -consider plans. How could she circumvent this terrible young man who -was going to put them all in their places. She wished that—— -

- -

-All at once she remembered something. -

- -

-"Wiggs," she said, "what was it I heard you saying to the Princess -about a wish?" -

- -

-"Oh, that's my ring," said Wiggs eagerly. "If you've been good for a -whole day you can have a good wish. And my wish is that——" -

- -

-"A wish!" said Belvane to herself. "Well, I wish that——" A sudden -thought struck her. "You said that you had to be good for a whole day -first?" -

- -

-"Yes." -

- -

-Belvane mused. -

- -

-"I wonder what they mean by good," she said. -

- -

-"Of course," explained Wiggs, "if you've been bad for a whole day you -can have a bad wish. But I should hate to have a bad wish, wouldn't -you?" -

- -

-"Simply hate it, child," said Belvane. "Er—may I have a look at that -ring?" -

- -

-"Here it is," said Wiggs; "I always wear it round my neck." -

- -

-The Countess took it from her. -

- -

-"Listen," she said. "Wasn't that the Princess calling you? Run -along, quickly, child." She almost pushed her from the room and -closed the door on her. -

- -

-Alone again, she paced from end to end of the great chamber, her left -hand nursing her right elbow, her chin in her right hand. -

- -

-"If you are good for a day," she mused, "you can have a good wish. If -you are bad for a day you can have a bad wish. Yesterday I drew ten -thousand pieces of gold for the Army; the actual expenses were what I -paid—what I owe Woggs. . . . I suppose that is what narrow-minded -people call being bad. . . . I suppose this Prince Udo would call it -bad. . . . I suppose he thinks he will marry the Princess and throw -me into prison." She flung her head back proudly. "Never!" -

- -

-Standing in the middle of the great Throne Room, she held the ring up -in her two hands and wished. -

- -

-"I wish," she said, and there was a terrible smile in her eyes, "I -wish that something very—very humorous shall happen to Prince Udo -on his journey." -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Udo and Coronel on their journey] -

- -

-CHAPTER VIII -

- -

-PRINCE UDO SLEEPS BADLY -

- -

-Everybody likes to make a good impression on his first visit, but -there were moments just before his arrival in Euralia when Prince Udo -doubted whether the affair would go as well as he had hoped. You -shall hear why. -

- -

-He had been out hunting with his friend, the young Duke Coronel, and -was returning to the Palace when Hyacinth's messenger met him. He -took the letter from him, broke the seals, and unrolled it. -

- -

-"Wait a moment, Coronel," he said to his friend. "This is going to be -an adventure of some sort, and if it's an adventure I shall want you -with me." -

- -

-"I'm in no hurry," said Coronel, and he got off his horse and gave it -into the care of an attendant. The road crossed a stream here. -Coronel sat up on the little stone bridge and dropped pebbles idly -into the water. -

- -

-The Prince read his letter. -

- -

-Plop . . . Plop . . . Plop . . . Plop . . . -

- -

-The Prince looked up from his letter. -

- -

-"How many days' journey is it to Euralia?" he asked Coronel. -

- -

-"How long did it take the messenger to come?" answered Coronel, -without looking up. (Plop. ) -

- -

-"I might have thought of that myself," said Udo, "only this letter has -rather upset me." He turned to the messenger. "How long has it——?" -

- -

-"Isn't the letter dated?" said Coronel. (Plop. ) -

- -

-Udo paid no attention to this interruption and finished his question -to the messenger. -

- -

-"A week, sire." -

- -

-"Ride on to the castle and wait for me. I shall have a message for -you." -

- -

-"What is it?" said Coronel, when the messenger had gone. "An -adventure?" -

- -

-"I think so. I think we may call it that, Coronel." -

- -

-"With me in it?" -

- -

-"Yes, I think you will be somewhere in it." -

- -

-Coronel stopped dropping his pebbles and turned to the Prince. -

- -

-"May I hear about it?" -

- -

-Udo help out the letter; then feeling that a lady's letter should be -private, drew it back again. He prided himself always on doing the -correct thing. -

- -

-"It's from Princess Hyacinth of Euralia," he said; "she doesn't say -much. Her father is away fighting, and she is alone and she is in -some trouble or other. It ought to make rather a good adventure." -

- -

-Coronel turned away and began to drop his pebbles into the stream -again. -

- -

-"Well, I wish you luck," he said. "If it's a dragon, don't forget -that——" -

- -

-"But you're coming, too," said Udo, in dismay. "I must have you with -me." -

- -

-"Doing what?" -

- -

-"What?" -

- -

-"Doing what?" said Coronel again. -

- -

-"Well," said Prince Udo awkwardly, "er—well, you—well." -

- -

-He felt that it was a silly question for Coronel to have asked. -Coronel knew perfectly well what he would be doing all the time. In -Udo's absence he would be telling Princess Hyacinth stories of his -Royal Highness's matchless courage and wisdom. An occasional -discussion also with the Princess upon the types of masculine beauty, -leading up to casual mention of Prince Udo's own appearance, would be -quite in order. When Prince Udo was present Coronel would no doubt -find the opportunity of drawing Prince Udo out, an opportunity of -which a stranger could not so readily avail himself. -

- -

-But of course you couldn't very well tell Coronel that. A man of any -tact would have seen it at once. -

- -

-"Of course," he said, "don't come if you don't like. But it would -look rather funny if I went quite unattended; and—and her Royal -Highness is said to be very beautiful," he added lamely. -

- -

-Coronel laughed. There are adventures and adventures; to sit next to -a very beautiful Princess and discuss with her the good looks of -another man was not the sort of adventure that Coronel was looking -for. -

- -

-He tossed the remainder of his pebbles into the stream and stood up. -

- -

-"Of course, if your Royal Highness wishes——" -

- -

-"Don't be a fool, Coronel," said his Royal Highness, rather snappily. -

- -

-"Well, then, I'll come with my good friend Udo if he wants me." -

- -

-"I do want you." -

- -

-"Very well, that settles it. After all," he added to himself, "there -may be two dragons." -

- -

-Two dragons would be one each. But from all accounts there were not -two Princesses. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-So three days later the friends set out with good hearts upon the -adventure. The messenger had been sent back to announce their -arrival; they gave him three days' start, and hoped to gain two days -upon him. In the simple fashion of those times (so it would seem from -Roger Scurvilegs) they set out with no luggage and no clear idea of -where they were going to sleep at night. This, after all, is the best -spirit in which to start a journey. It is the Gladstone bag which has -killed romance. -

- -

-They started on a perfect summer day, and they rode past towers and -battlements, and by the side of sparkling streams, and came out into -the sunlight again above sleepy villages, and, as they rode, Coronel -sang aloud and Udo tossed his sword into the air and caught it again. -As evening fell they came to a woodman's cottage at the foot of a high -hill, and there they decided to rest for the night. An old woman came -out to welcome them. -

- -

-"Good evening, your Royal Highness," she said. -

- -

- -[Illustration: As evening fell they came to a woodman's cottage at -the foot of a high hill, verso] -[Illustration: As evening fell they came to a woodman's cottage at the foot of a high hill, recto] -

- -

-"You know me?" said Udo, more pleased than surprised. -

- -

-"I know all who come into my house," said the old woman solemnly, "and -all who go away from it." -

- -

-This sort of conversation made Coronel feel creepy. There seemed to -be a distinction between the people who came to the house and the -people who went away from it which he did not like. -

- -

-"Can we stay here the night, my good woman?" said Udo. -

- -

-"You have hurt your hand," she said, taking no notice of his question. -

- -

-"It's nothing," said Udo hastily. On one occasion he had caught his -sword by the sharp end by mistake—a foolish thing to have done. -

- -

-"Ah, well, since you won't want hands where you're going, it won't -matter much." -

- -

-It was the sort of thing old women said in those days, and Udo did not -pay much attention to it. -

- -

-"Yes, yes," he said; "but can you give my friend and myself a bed for -to-night?" -

- -

-"Seeing that you won't be travelling together long, come in and -welcome." -

- -

-She opened the door and they followed her in. -

- -

-As they crossed the threshold, Udo half turned round and whispered -over his shoulder to Coronel, -

- -

-"Probably a fairy. Be kind to her." -

- -

-"How can one be kind to one's hostess?" said Coronel. "It's she who -has to be kind to us." -

- -

-"Well, you know what I mean; don't be rude to her." -

- -

-"My dear Udo, this to me—the pride of Araby, the favourite courtier -of his Majesty, the——" -

- -

-"Oh, all right," said Udo. -

- -

-"Sit down and rest yourselves," said the old woman. "There'll be -something in the pot for you directly." -

- -

-"Good," said Udo. He looked approvingly at the large cauldron hanging -over the fire. It was a big fireplace for such a small room. So he -thought when he first looked at it, but as he gazed, the room seemed -to get bigger and bigger, and the fireplace to get farther and farther -away, until he felt that he was in a vast cavern cut deep into the -mountainside. He rubbed his eyes, and there he was in the small -kitchen again and the cauldron was sending out a savoury smell. -

- -

-"There'll be something in it for all tastes," went on the old woman, -"even for Prince Udo's." -

- -

-"I'm not so particular as all that," said Udo mildly. The room had -just become five hundred yards long again, and he was feeling quiet. -

- -

-"Not now, but you will be." -

- -

-She filled them a plate each from the pot; and pulling their chairs up -to the table, they fell to heartily. -

- -

-"This is really excellent," said Udo, as he put down his spoon and -rested for a moment. -

- -

-"You'd think you'd always like that, wouldn't you?" she said. -

- -

-"I always shall be fond of anything so perfectly cooked." -

- -

-"Ah," remarked the old woman thoughtfully. -

- -

-Udo was beginning to dislike her particular style of conversation. It -seemed to carry the merest suggestion of a hint that something -unpleasant was going to happen to him. Nothing apparently was going -to happen to Coronel. He tried to drag Coronel into the conversation -in case the old woman had anything over for him. -

- -

-"My friend and I," he said, "hope to be in Euralia the day after -to-morrow." -

- -

-"No harm in hoping," was the answer. -

- -

-"Dear me, is something going to happen to us on the way?" -

- -

-"Depends what you call 'us.'" -

- -

-Coronel pushed back his chair and got up. -

- -

-"I know what's going to happen to me," he said. "I'm going to sleep." -

- -

-"Well," said Udo, getting up too, "we've got a long day before us -to-morrow, and apparently we are in for an adventure—er, we are in -for an adventure of some sort." He looked anxiously at the old woman, -but she made no sign. "And so let's to bed." -

- -

-"This way," said the old woman, and by the light of a candle she led -them upstairs. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-Udo slept badly. He had a feeling (just as you have) that something -was going to happen to him; and it was with some surprise that he woke -up in the morning to find himself much as he was when he went to bed. -He looked at himself in the glass; he invited Coronel to gaze at him; -but neither could discover that anything was the matter. -

- -

-"After all," said Udo, "I don't suppose she meant anything. These old -women get into a way of talking like that. If anybody is going to be -turned into anything, it's much more likely to be you." -

- -

-"Is that why you brought me with you?" asked Coronel. -

- -

-I suppose that by this time they had finished their dressing. Roger -Scurvilegs tells us nothing on such important matters; no doubt from -modesty. "Next morning they rose," he says, and disappoints us of a -picture of Udo brushing his hair. They rose and went down to -breakfast. -

- -

-The old woman was in a less cryptic mood at breakfast. She was -particularly hospitable to Udo, and from some secret store produced an -unending variety of good things for him to eat. To Coronel it almost -looked as if she were fattening him up for something, but this -suggestion was received with such bad grace by Udo that he did not -pursue the subject. -

- -

-As soon as breakfast was over they started off again. From one of the -many bags of gold he carried, Udo had offered some acknowledgment to -the old woman, but she had refused to take it. -

- -

-"Nay, nay," she said. "I shall be amply rewarded before the day is -out." And she seemed to be smiling to herself as if she knew of some -joke which the Prince and Coronel did not yet share. -

- -

-"I like to-day," said Coronel as they rode along. "There's a smell of -adventure in the air. Red roofs, green trees, blue sky, white road—I -could fall in love to-day." -

- -

-"Who with?" said Udo suspiciously. -

- -

-"Any one—that old woman, if you like." -

- -

-"Oh, don't talk of her," said the Prince with a shudder. "Coronel, -hadn't you a sense of being out of some joke that she was in?" -

- -

-"Perhaps we shall be in it before long. I could laugh very easily on -a morning like this." -

- -

-"Oh, I can see a joke as well as any one," said Udo. "Don't be afraid -that I shan't laugh, too. No doubt it will make a good story, -whatever it is, to tell to the Princess Hyacinth. Coronel," he added -solemnly, the thought having evidently only just occurred to him, "I -am all impatience to help that poor girl in her trouble." And as if -to show his impatience, he suddenly gave the reins a shake and -cantered ahead of his companion. Smiling to himself, Coronel followed -at his leisure. -

- -

-They halted at mid-day in a wood, and made a meal from some provisions -which the old woman had given them; and after they had eaten, Udo lay -down on a mossy bank and closed his eyes. -

- -

-"I'm sleepy," he said; "I had a restless night. Let's stay here -awhile; after all, there's no hurry." -

- -

-"Personally," said Coronel, "I'm all impatience to help that——" -

- -

-"I tell you I had a very bad night," said Udo crossly. -

- -

-"Oh, well, I shall go off and look for dragons. Coronel, the Dragon -Slayer. Good-bye." -

- -

-"Only half an hour," said Udo. -

- -

-"Right." -

- -

-With a nod to the Prince he strolled off among the trees. -

- -
- -

[Illustration: Small decoration of Belvane writing in her diary.] -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Udo in his animal form, coming out of some plants.] -

- -

-CHAPTER IX -

- -

-THEY ARE AFRAID OF UDO -

- -

-This is a painful chapter for me to write. Mercifully it is to be a -short one. Later on I shall become used to the situation; inclined, -even, to dwell upon its humorous side; but for the moment I cannot see -beyond the sadness of it. That to a Prince of the Royal House of -Araby, and such an estimable young man as Udo, those things should -happen. Roger Scurvilegs frankly breaks down over it. "That -abominable woman," he says (meaning, of course, Belvane), and he has -hysterics for more than a page. -

- -

-Let us describe it calmly. -

- -

-Coronel came back from his stroll in the same casual way in which he -had started and dropped down lazily upon the grass to wait until Udo -was ready to mount. He was not thinking of Udo. He was wondering if -Princess Hyacinth had an attendant of surpassing beauty, or a dragon -of surpassing malevolence—if, in fact, there were any adventures in -Euralia for a humble fellow like himself. -

- -

-"Coronel!" said a small voice behind him. -

- -

-He turned round indifferently. -

- -

-"Hullo, Udo, where are you?" he said. "Isn't it time we were -starting?" -

- -

-"We aren't starting," said the voice. -

- -

-"What's the matter? What are you hiding in the bushes for? -Whatever's the matter, Udo?" -

- -

-"I'm not very well." -

- -

-"My poor Udo, what's happened?" He jumped up and made towards him. -

- -

-"Stop!" shrieked the voice. "I command you!" -

- -

-Coronel stopped. -

- -

-"Your Royal Highness's commands," he began rather coldly—— -

- -

-There was an ominous sniffing from the bushes. -

- -

-"Coronel," said an unhappy voice at last, "I think I'm coming out." -

- -

-Wondering what it all meant, Coronel waited in silence. -

- -

-"Yes, I am coming out, Coronel," said the voice. "But you mustn't be -surprised if I don't look very well. I'm—I'm—Coronel, here I am," -said Udo pathetically and he stepped out. -

- -

-Coronel didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. -

- -

-Poor Prince Udo! -

- -

-[Illustration: "Coronel, here I am," said Udo pathetically, and he stepped out, verso] -[Illustration: "Coronel, here I am," said Udo pathetically, and he stepped out, recto] -

- -

-He had the head and the long ears of a rabbit, and in some unfortunate -way a look of the real Prince Udo in spite of it. He had the mane and -the tail of a lion. In between the tail and the mane it is difficult -to say what he was, save that there was an impression of magnificence -about his person—such magnificence, anyhow, as is given by an -astrakhan-trimmed fur coat. -

- -

-Coronel decided that it was an occasion for tact. -

- -

-"Ah, here you are," he said cheerfully. "Shall we get along?" -

- -

-"Don't be a fool, Coronel," said Udo, almost crying. "Don't pretend -that you can't see that I've got a tail." -

- -

-"Why, bless my soul, so you have. A tail! Well, think of that!" -

- -

-Udo showed what he thought of it by waving it peevishly. -

- -

-"This is not a time for tact," he said. "Tell me what I look like." -

- -

-Coronel considered for a moment. -

- -

-"Really frankly?" he asked. -

- -

-"Y—yes," said Udo nervously. -

- -

-"Then, frankly, your Royal Highness looks—funny." -

- -

-"Very funny?" said Udo wistfully. -

- -

-"Very funny," said Coronel. -

- -

-His Highness sighed. -

- -

-"I was afraid so," he said. "That's the cruel part about it. Had I -been a lion there would have been a certain pathetic splendour about -my position. Isolated—cut off—suffering in regal silence." He -waved an explanatory paw. "Even in the most hideous of beasts there -might be a dignity." He meditated for a moment. "Have you ever seen -a yak, Coronel?" he asked. -

- -

-"Never." -

- -

-"I saw one once in Barodia. It is not a beautiful animal, Coronel; -but as a yak I should not have been entirely unlovable. One does not -laugh at a yak, Coronel, and where one does not laugh one may come to -love. . . . What does my head look like?" -

- -

-"It looks—striking." -

- -

-"I haven't seen it, you see." -

- -

-"To one who didn't know your Royal Highness it would convey the -impression of a rabbit." -

- -

-Udo laid his head between his paws and wept. -

- -

-"A r—rabbit!" he sobbed. So undignified, so lacking in true pathos, -so—— And not even a whole rabbit," he added bitterly. -

- -

-"How did it happen?" -

- -

-"I don't know, Coronel. I just went to sleep, and woke up feeling -rather funny, and——" He sat up suddenly and stared at Coronel. "It -was that old woman did it. You mark my words, Coronel; she did it." -

- -

-"Why should she?" -

- -

-"I don't know. I was very polite to her. Don't you remember my -saying to you, 'Be polite to her, because she's probably a fairy!' -You see, I saw through her disguise at once. Coronel, what shall we -do? Let's hold a council of war and think it over." -

- -

-So they held a council of war. -

- -

-Prince Udo put forward two suggestions. -

- -

-The first was that Coronel should go back on the morrow and kill the -old woman. -

- -

-The second was that Coronel should go back that afternoon and kill the -old woman. -

- -

-Coronel pointed out that as she had turned Prince Udo into—into -a—a—("Quite so," said Udo)—it was likely that she alone could turn -him back again, and that in that case he had better only threaten her. -

- -

-"I want somebody killed," said Udo, rather naturally. -

- -

-"Suppose," said Coronel, "you stay here for two days while I go back -and see the old witch, and make her tell me what she knows. She knows -something, I'm certain. Then we shall see better what to do." -

- -

-Udo mused for a space. -

- -

-"Why didn't they turn you into anything?" he asked. -

- -

-"Really, I don't know. Perhaps because I'm too unimportant." -

- -

-"Yes, that must be it." He began to feel a little brighter. -"Obviously, that's it." He caressed a whisker with one of his paws. -"They were afraid of me." -

- -

-He began to look so much happier that Coronel thought it was a -favourable moment in which to withdraw. -

- -

-"Shall I go now, your Royal Highness?" -

- -

-"Yes, yes, you may leave me." -

- -

-"And shall I find you here when I come back?" -

- -

-"You may or you may not, Coronel; you may or you may not. . . . -Afraid of me," he murmured to himself. "Obviously." -

- -

-"And if I don't?" -

- -

-"Then return to the Palace." -

- -

-"Good-bye, your Royal Highness." -

- -

-Udo waved a paw at him. -

- -

-"Good-bye, good-bye." -

- -

-Coronel got on his horse and rode away. As soon as he was out of -earshot he began to laugh. Spasm after spasm shook him. No sooner -had he composed himself to gravity than a remembrance of Udo's -appearance started him off again. -

- -

-"I couldn't have stayed with him a moment longer," he thought. "I -should have burst. Poor Udo! However, we'll soon get him all right." -

- -

-That evening he reached the place where the cottage had stood, but it -was gone. Next morning he rode back to the wood. Udo was gone too. -He returned to the Palace, and began to think it out. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-Left to himself Udo very soon made up his mind. There were three -courses open to him. -

- -

-He might stay where he was till he was restored to health. -

- -

-This he rejected at once. When you have the head of a rabbit, the -tail of a lion, and the middle of a woolly lamb, the need for action -of some kind is imperative. All the blood of your diverse ancestors -calls to you to be up and doing. -

- -

-He might go back to Araby. -

- -

-To Araby, where he was so well-known, so respected, so popular? To -Araby, where he rode daily among his father's subjects that they might -have the pleasure of cheering him? How awkward for everybody! -

- -

-On to Euralia then? -

- -

-Why not? The Princess Hyacinth had called for him. What devotion it -showed if he came to her even now—in his present state of bad health! -She was in trouble: enchanters, wizards, what-nots. Already, then, -he had suffered in her service—so at least he would say, and so -possibly it might be. Coronel had thought him—funny; but women had -not much sense of humour as a rule. Probably as a child Hyacinth had -kept rabbits . . . or lambs. She would find him—strokable. . . . -And the lion in him . . . in his tail, his fierce mane . . . she would -find that inspiring. Women like to feel that there is something -fierce, untamable in the man they love; well, there it was. -

- -

-It was not as if he had Coronel with him. Coronel and he (in his -present health) could never have gone into Euralia together; the -contrast was too striking; but he alone, Hyacinth's only help! Surely -she would appreciate his magnanimity. -

- -

-Also, as he had told himself a moment ago, there was quite a chance -that it was a Euralian enchanter who had put this upon him—to prevent -him helping Hyacinth. If so, he had better go to Euralia in order to -deal with that enchanter. For the moment, he did not see exactly how -to deal with him, but no doubt he would think of some tremendously -cunning device later on. -

- -

-To Euralia then with all dispatch. -

- -

-He trotted off. As Coronel had said, they were evidently afraid of -him. -

- -


- -

-[Illustration: Detail of Belvane on horseback and throwing something] +

+ +Te bow in the dust, oh millions?
+ +Thy maker, mortal, dost divine?
+ +Cf. Schiller's "Hymn to Joy"; and Beethoven, Ninth Symphony.—TR.

+ + + + + + + +

2.

+ + + + + +

Thus far we have considered the Apollonian and his antithesis, + +the Dionysian, as artistic powers, which burst forth from nature + +herself, without the mediation of the human artist, and in which + +her art-impulses are satisfied in the most immediate and direct way: + +first, as the pictorial world of dreams, the perfection of which + +has no connection whatever with the intellectual height or artistic + +culture of the unit man, and again, as drunken reality, which likewise + +does not heed the unit man, but even seeks to destroy the individual + +and redeem him by a mystic feeling of Oneness. Anent these immediate + +art-states of nature every artist is either an "imitator," to wit, + +either an Apollonian, an artist in dreams, or a Dionysian, an artist + +in ecstasies, or finally—as for instance in Greek tragedy—an artist + +in both dreams and ecstasies: so we may perhaps picture him, as in + +his Dionysian drunkenness and mystical self-abnegation, lonesome and + +apart from the revelling choruses, he sinks down, and how now, through + +Apollonian dream-inspiration, his own state, i.e.,[Pg 29] his oneness + +with the primal source of the universe, reveals itself to him in a + +symbolical dream-picture.

+ + + +

After these general premisings and contrastings, let us now approach + +the Greeks in order to learn in what degree and to what height + +these art-impulses of nature were developed in them: whereby + +we shall be enabled to understand and appreciate more deeply the + +relation of the Greek artist to his archetypes, or, according to the + +Aristotelian expression, "the imitation of nature." In spite of all the + +dream-literature and the numerous dream-anecdotes of the Greeks, we can + +speak only conjecturally, though with a fair degree of certainty, of + +their dreams. Considering the incredibly precise and unerring plastic + +power of their eyes, as also their manifest and sincere delight in + +colours, we can hardly refrain (to the shame of every one born later) + +from assuming for their very dreams a logical causality of lines and + +contours, colours and groups, a sequence of scenes resembling their + +best reliefs, the perfection of which would certainly justify us, if a + +comparison were possible, in designating the dreaming Greeks as Homers + +and Homer as a dreaming Greek: in a deeper sense than when modern man, + +in respect to his dreams, ventures to compare himself with Shakespeare.

+ + + +

On the other hand, we should not have to speak conjecturally, if asked + +to disclose the immense gap which separated the Dionysian Greek from + +the Dionysian barbarian. From all quarters of the Ancient World—to + +say nothing of the modern—from Rome as far as Babylon, we can[Pg 30] prove + +the existence of Dionysian festivals, the type of which bears, at + +best, the same relation to the Greek festivals as the bearded satyr, + +who borrowed his name and attributes from the goat, does to Dionysus + +himself. In nearly every instance the centre of these festivals lay + +in extravagant sexual licentiousness, the waves of which overwhelmed + +all family life and its venerable traditions; the very wildest beasts + +of nature were let loose here, including that detestable mixture of + +lust and cruelty which has always seemed to me the genuine "witches' + +draught." For some time, however, it would seem that the Greeks + +were perfectly secure and guarded against the feverish agitations + +of these festivals (—the knowledge of which entered Greece by all + +the channels of land and sea) by the figure of Apollo himself rising + +here in full pride, who could not have held out the Gorgon's head to + +a more dangerous power than this grotesquely uncouth Dionysian. It + +is in Doric art that this majestically-rejecting attitude of Apollo + +perpetuated itself. This opposition became more precarious and even + +impossible, when, from out of the deepest root of the Hellenic nature, + +similar impulses finally broke forth and made way for themselves: + +the Delphic god, by a seasonably effected reconciliation, was now + +contented with taking the destructive arms from the hands of his + +powerful antagonist. This reconciliation marks the most important + +moment in the history of the Greek cult: wherever we turn our eyes + +we may observe the revolutions resulting from this event. It was + +the reconciliation of two antagonists,[Pg 31] with the sharp demarcation + +of the boundary-lines to be thenceforth observed by each, and with + +periodical transmission of testimonials;—in reality, the chasm was + +not bridged over. But if we observe how, under the pressure of this + +conclusion of peace, the Dionysian power manifested itself, we shall + +now recognise in the Dionysian orgies of the Greeks, as compared with + +the Babylonian Sacæa and their retrogression of man to the tiger and + +the ape, the significance of festivals of world-redemption and days of + +transfiguration. Not till then does nature attain her artistic jubilee; + +not till then does the rupture of the principium individuationis + +become an artistic phenomenon. That horrible "witches' draught" of + +sensuality and cruelty was here powerless: only the curious blending + +and duality in the emotions of the Dionysian revellers reminds one of + +it—just as medicines remind one of deadly poisons,—that phenomenon, + +to wit, that pains beget joy, that jubilation wrings painful sounds out + +of the breast. From the highest joy sounds the cry of horror or the + +yearning wail over an irretrievable loss. In these Greek festivals a + +sentimental trait, as it were, breaks forth from nature, as if she must + +sigh over her dismemberment into individuals. The song and pantomime + +of such dually-minded revellers was something new and unheard-of in + +the Homeric-Grecian world; and the Dionysian music in particular + +excited awe and horror. If music, as it would seem, was previously + +known as an Apollonian art, it was, strictly speaking, only as the + +wave-beat of rhythm, the formative power of[Pg 32] which was developed to + +the representation of Apollonian conditions. The music of Apollo was + +Doric architectonics in tones, but in merely suggested tones, such + +as those of the cithara. The very element which forms the essence of + +Dionysian music (and hence of music in general) is carefully excluded + +as un-Apollonian; namely, the thrilling power of the tone, the uniform + +stream of the melos, and the thoroughly incomparable world of harmony. + +In the Dionysian dithyramb man is incited to the highest exaltation + +of all his symbolic faculties; something never before experienced + +struggles for utterance—the annihilation of the veil of Mâyâ, Oneness + +as genius of the race, ay, of nature. The essence of nature is now + +to be expressed symbolically; a new world of symbols is required; + +for once the entire symbolism of the body, not only the symbolism of + +the lips, face, and speech, but the whole pantomime of dancing which + +sets all the members into rhythmical motion. Thereupon the other + +symbolic powers, those of music, in rhythmics, dynamics, and harmony, + +suddenly become impetuous. To comprehend this collective discharge + +of all the symbolic powers, a man must have already attained that + +height of self-abnegation, which wills to express itself symbolically + +through these powers: the Dithyrambic votary of Dionysus is therefore + +understood only by those like himself! With what astonishment must the + +Apollonian Greek have beheld him! With an astonishment, which was all + +the greater the more it was mingled with the shuddering suspicion that + +all this was in[Pg 33] reality not so very foreign to him, yea, that, like + +unto a veil, his Apollonian consciousness only hid this Dionysian world + +from his view.

+ + + + + + + +

3.

+ + + + + +

In order to comprehend this, we must take down the artistic structure + +of the Apollonian culture, as it were, stone by stone, till we behold + +the foundations on which it rests. Here we observe first of all the + +glorious Olympian figures of the gods, standing on the gables of this + +structure, whose deeds, represented in far-shining reliefs, adorn its + +friezes. Though Apollo stands among them as an individual deity, side + +by side with others, and without claim to priority of rank, we must not + +suffer this fact to mislead us. The same impulse which embodied itself + +in Apollo has, in general, given birth to this whole Olympian world, + +and in this sense we may regard Apollo as the father thereof. What was + +the enormous need from which proceeded such an illustrious group of + +Olympian beings?

+ + + +

Whosoever, with another religion in his heart, approaches these + +Olympians and seeks among them for moral elevation, even for sanctity, + +for incorporeal spiritualisation, for sympathetic looks of love, will + +soon be obliged to turn his back on them, discouraged and disappointed. + +Here nothing suggests asceticism, spirituality, or duty: here only + +an exuberant, even triumphant life speaks to us, in which everything + +existing is deified, whether good or bad. And so the[Pg 34] spectator will + +perhaps stand quite bewildered before this fantastic exuberance of + +life, and ask himself what magic potion these madly merry men could + +have used for enjoying life, so that, wherever they turned their eyes, + +Helena, the ideal image of their own existence "floating in sweet + +sensuality," smiled upon them. But to this spectator, already turning + +backwards, we must call out: "depart not hence, but hear rather what + +Greek folk-wisdom says of this same life, which with such inexplicable + +cheerfulness spreads out before thee." There is an ancient story that + +king Midas hunted in the forest a long time for the wise Silenus, + +the companion of Dionysus, without capturing him. When at last he fell + +into his hands, the king asked what was best of all and most desirable + +for man. Fixed and immovable, the demon remained silent; till at last, + +forced by the king, he broke out with shrill laughter into these words: + +"Oh, wretched race of a day, children of chance and misery, why do ye + +compel me to say to you what it were most expedient for you not to + +hear? What is best of all is for ever beyond your reach: not to be + +born, not to be, to be nothing. The second best for you, however, + +is soon to die."

+ + + +

How is the Olympian world of deities related to this folk-wisdom? Even + +as the rapturous vision of the tortured martyr to his sufferings.

+ + + +

Now the Olympian magic mountain opens, as it were, to our view and + +shows to us its roots. The Greek knew and felt the terrors and horrors + +of existence: to be able to live at all, he had to[Pg 35] interpose the + +shining dream-birth of the Olympian world between himself and them. + +The excessive distrust of the titanic powers of nature, the Moira + +throning inexorably over all knowledge, the vulture of the great + +philanthropist Prometheus, the terrible fate of the wise Œdipus, the + +family curse of the Atridæ which drove Orestes to matricide; in short, + +that entire philosophy of the sylvan god, with its mythical exemplars, + +which wrought the ruin of the melancholy Etruscans—was again and again + +surmounted anew by the Greeks through the artistic middle world of + +the Olympians, or at least veiled and withdrawn from sight. To be able + +to live, the Greeks had, from direst necessity, to create these gods: + +which process we may perhaps picture to ourselves in this manner: that + +out of the original Titan thearchy of terror the Olympian thearchy of + +joy was evolved, by slow transitions, through the Apollonian impulse to + +beauty, even as roses break forth from thorny bushes. How else could + +this so sensitive people, so vehement in its desires, so singularly + +qualified for sufferings have endured existence, if it had not been + +exhibited to them in their gods, surrounded with a higher glory? + +The same impulse which calls art into being, as the complement and + +consummation of existence, seducing to a continuation of life, caused + +also the Olympian world to arise, in which the Hellenic "will" held + +up before itself a transfiguring mirror. Thus do the gods justify the + +life of man, in that they themselves live it—the only satisfactory + +Theodicy! Existence under the bright sunshine[Pg 36] of such gods is regarded + +as that which is desirable in itself, and the real grief of the + +Homeric men has reference to parting from it, especially to early + +parting: so that we might now say of them, with a reversion of the + +Silenian wisdom, that "to die early is worst of all for them, the + +second worst is—some day to die at all." If once the lamentation is + +heard, it will ring out again, of the short-lived Achilles, of the + +leaf-like change and vicissitude of the human race, of the decay of + +the heroic age. It is not unworthy of the greatest hero to long for a + +continuation of life, ay, even as a day-labourer. So vehemently does + +the "will," at the Apollonian stage of development, long for this + +existence, so completely at one does the Homeric man feel himself with + +it, that the very lamentation becomes its song of praise.

+ + + +

Here we must observe that this harmony which is so eagerly contemplated + +by modern man, in fact, this oneness of man with nature, to express + +which Schiller introduced the technical term "naïve," is by no means + +such a simple, naturally resulting and, as it were, inevitable + +condition, which must be found at the gate of every culture leading + +to a paradise of man: this could be believed only by an age which + +sought to picture to itself Rousseau's Émile also as an artist, + +and imagined it had found in Homer such an artist Émile, reared at + +Nature's bosom. Wherever we meet with the "naïve" in art, it behoves + +us to recognise the highest effect of the Apollonian culture, which + +in the first place has always to overthrow some Titanic empire and + +slay monsters, and[Pg 37] which, through powerful dazzling representations + +and pleasurable illusions, must have triumphed over a terrible depth + +of world-contemplation and a most keen susceptibility to suffering. + +But how seldom is the naïve—that complete absorption, in the beauty + +of appearance—attained! And hence how inexpressibly sublime is + +Homer, who, as unit being, bears the same relation to this Apollonian + +folk-culture as the unit dream-artist does to the dream-faculty of + +the people and of Nature in general. The Homeric "naïveté" can be + +comprehended only as the complete triumph of the Apollonian illusion: + +it is the same kind of illusion as Nature so frequently employs to + +compass her ends. The true goal is veiled by a phantasm: we stretch out + +our hands for the latter, while Nature attains the former through our + +illusion. In the Greeks the "will" desired to contemplate itself in the + +transfiguration of the genius and the world of art; in order to glorify + +themselves, its creatures had to feel themselves worthy of glory; + +they had to behold themselves again in a higher sphere, without this + +consummate world of contemplation acting as an imperative or reproach. + +Such is the sphere of beauty, in which, as in a mirror, they saw their + +images, the Olympians. With this mirroring of beauty the Hellenic will + +combated its talent—correlative to the artistic—for suffering and for + +the wisdom of suffering: and, as a monument of its victory, Homer, the + +naïve artist, stands before us.

+ + + +

[Pg 38]

+ + + + + + + +

4.

+ + + + + +

Concerning this naïve artist the analogy of dreams will enlighten us to + +some extent. When we realise to ourselves the dreamer, as, in the midst + +of the illusion of the dream-world and without disturbing it, he calls + +out to himself: "it is a dream, I will dream on"; when we must thence + +infer a deep inner joy in dream-contemplation; when, on the other hand, + +to be at all able to dream with this inner joy in contemplation, we + +must have completely forgotten the day and its terrible obtrusiveness, + +we may, under the direction of the dream-reading Apollo, interpret + +all these phenomena to ourselves somewhat as follows. Though it is + +certain that of the two halves of life, the waking and the dreaming, + +the former appeals to us as by far the more preferred, important, + +excellent and worthy of being lived, indeed, as that which alone is + +lived: yet, with reference to that mysterious ground of our being of + +which we are the phenomenon, I should, paradoxical as it may seem, be + +inclined to maintain the very opposite estimate of the value of dream + +life. For the more clearly I perceive in nature those all-powerful art + +impulses, and in them a fervent longing for appearance, for redemption + +through appearance, the more I feel myself driven to the metaphysical + +assumption that the Verily-Existent and Primordial Unity, as the + +Eternally Suffering and Self-Contradictory, requires the rapturous + +vision, the joyful appearance, for its continuous salvation: which + +appearance we, who are completely wrapt[Pg 39] in it and composed of it, must + +regard as the Verily Non-existent,—i.e., as a perpetual unfolding + +in time, space and causality,—in other words, as empiric reality. + +If we therefore waive the consideration of our own "reality" for the + +present, if we conceive our empiric existence, and that of the world + +generally, as a representation of the Primordial Unity generated every + +moment, we shall then have to regard the dream as an appearance of + +appearance, hence as a still higher gratification of the primordial + +desire for appearance. It is for this same reason that the innermost + +heart of Nature experiences that indescribable joy in the naïve artist + +and in the naïve work of art, which is likewise only "an appearance of + +appearance." In a symbolic painting, Raphael, himself one of these + +immortal "naïve" ones, has represented to us this depotentiating of + +appearance to appearance, the primordial process of the naïve artist + +and at the same time of Apollonian culture. In his Transfiguration, + +the lower half, with the possessed boy, the despairing bearers, the + +helpless, terrified disciples, shows to us the reflection of eternal + +primordial pain, the sole basis of the world: the "appearance" here + +is the counter-appearance of eternal Contradiction, the father of + +things. Out of this appearance then arises, like an ambrosial vapour, a + +visionlike new world of appearances, of which those wrapt in the first + +appearance see nothing—a radiant floating in purest bliss and painless + +Contemplation beaming from wide-open eyes. Here there is presented to + +our view, in the highest symbolism of art, that Apollonian world of + +beauty and its substratum,[Pg 40] the terrible wisdom of Silenus, and we + +comprehend, by intuition, their necessary interdependence. Apollo, + +however, again appears to us as the apotheosis of the principium + +individuationis, in which alone the perpetually attained end of the + +Primordial Unity, its redemption through appearance, is consummated: he + +shows us, with sublime attitudes, how the entire world of torment is + +necessary, that thereby the individual may be impelled to realise the + +redeeming vision, and then, sunk in contemplation thereof, quietly sit + +in his fluctuating barque, in the midst of the sea.

+ + + +

This apotheosis of individuation, if it be at all conceived as + +imperative and laying down precepts, knows but one law—the individual, + +i.e., the observance of the boundaries of the individual, + +measure in the Hellenic sense. Apollo, as ethical deity, demands + +due proportion of his disciples, and, that this may be observed, he + +demands self-knowledge. And thus, parallel to the æsthetic necessity + +for beauty, there run the demands "know thyself" and "not too much," + +while presumption and undueness are regarded as the truly hostile + +demons of the non-Apollonian sphere, hence as characteristics of the + +pre-Apollonian age, that of the Titans, and of the extra-Apollonian + +world, that of the barbarians. Because of his Titan-like love for + +man, Prometheus had to be torn to pieces by vultures; because of his + +excessive wisdom, which solved the riddle of the Sphinx, Œdipus had + +to plunge into a bewildering vortex of monstrous crimes: thus did the + +Delphic god interpret the Grecian past.

+ + + +

[Pg 41]

+ + + +

So also the effects wrought by the Dionysian appeared "titanic" and + +"barbaric" to the Apollonian Greek: while at the same time he could + +not conceal from himself that he too was inwardly related to these + +overthrown Titans and heroes. Indeed, he had to recognise still more + +than this: his entire existence, with all its beauty and moderation, + +rested on a hidden substratum of suffering and of knowledge, which + +was again disclosed to him by the Dionysian. And lo! Apollo could not + +live without Dionysus! The "titanic" and the "barbaric" were in the + +end not less necessary than the Apollonian. And now let us imagine to + +ourselves how the ecstatic tone of the Dionysian festival sounded in + +ever more luring and bewitching strains into this artificially confined + +world built on appearance and moderation, how in these strains all + +the undueness of nature, in joy, sorrow, and knowledge, even to + +the transpiercing shriek, became audible: let us ask ourselves what + +meaning could be attached to the psalmodising artist of Apollo, with + +the phantom harp-sound, as compared with this demonic folk-song! The + +muses of the arts of "appearance" paled before an art which, in its + +intoxication, spoke the truth, the wisdom of Silenus cried "woe! woe!" + +against the cheerful Olympians. The individual, with all his boundaries + +and due proportions, went under in the self-oblivion of the Dionysian + +states and forgot the Apollonian precepts. The Undueness revealed + +itself as truth, contradiction, the bliss born of pain, declared itself + +but of the heart of nature. And thus, wherever the Dionysian prevailed, + +the Apollonian was[Pg 42] routed and annihilated. But it is quite as certain + +that, where the first assault was successfully withstood, the authority + +and majesty of the Delphic god exhibited itself as more rigid and + +menacing than ever. For I can only explain to myself the Doric state + +and Doric art as a permanent war-camp of the Apollonian: only by + +incessant opposition to the titanic-barbaric nature of the Dionysian + +was it possible for an art so defiantly-prim, so encompassed with + +bulwarks, a training so warlike and rigorous, a constitution so cruel + +and relentless, to last for any length of time.

+ + + +

Up to this point we have enlarged upon the observation made at the + +beginning of this essay: how the Dionysian and the Apollonian, in ever + +new births succeeding and mutually augmenting one another, controlled + +the Hellenic genius: how from out the age of "bronze," with its Titan + +struggles and rigorous folk-philosophy, the Homeric world develops + +under the fostering sway of the Apollonian impulse to beauty, how this + +"naïve" splendour is again overwhelmed by the inbursting flood of the + +Dionysian, and how against this new power the Apollonian rises to the + +austere majesty of Doric art and the Doric view of things. If, then, + +in this way, in the strife of these two hostile principles, the older + +Hellenic history falls into four great periods of art, we are now + +driven to inquire after the ulterior purpose of these unfoldings and + +processes, unless perchance we should regard the last-attained period, + +the period of Doric art, as the end and aim of these artistic impulses: + +and here the sublime and highly celebrated art-work of[Pg 43] Attic tragedy + +and dramatic dithyramb presents itself to our view as the common + +goal of both these impulses, whose mysterious union, after many and + +long precursory struggles, found its glorious consummation in such a + +child,—which is at once Antigone and Cassandra.

+ + + + + + + +

5.

+ + + + + +

We now approach the real purpose of our investigation, which aims + +at acquiring a knowledge of the Dionyso-Apollonian genius and his + +art-work, or at least an anticipatory understanding of the mystery of + +the aforesaid union. Here we shall ask first of all where that new + +germ which subsequently developed into tragedy and dramatic dithyramb + +first makes itself perceptible in the Hellenic world. The ancients + +themselves supply the answer in symbolic form, when they place Homer + +and Archilochus as the forefathers and torch-bearers of Greek poetry + +side by side on gems, sculptures, etc., in the sure conviction that + +only these two thoroughly original compeers, from whom a stream of + +fire flows over the whole of Greek posterity, should be taken into + +consideration. Homer, the aged dreamer sunk in himself, the type + +of the Apollonian naïve artist, beholds now with astonishment the + +impassioned genius of the warlike votary of the muses, Archilochus, + +violently tossed to and fro on the billows of existence: and modern + +æsthetics could only add by way of interpretation, that here the + +"objective" artist is confronted by the first "subjective" artist.[Pg 44] + +But this interpretation is of little service to us, because we know + +the subjective artist only as the poor artist, and in every type and + +elevation of art we demand specially and first of all the conquest + +of the Subjective, the redemption from the "ego" and the cessation + +of every individual will and desire; indeed, we find it impossible + +to believe in any truly artistic production, however insignificant, + +without objectivity, without pure, interestless contemplation. Hence + +our æsthetics must first solve the problem as to how the "lyrist" is + +possible as an artist: he who according to the experience of all ages + +continually says "I" and sings off to us the entire chromatic scale of + +his passions and desires. This very Archilochus appals us, alongside + +of Homer, by his cries of hatred and scorn, by the drunken outbursts + +of his desire. Is not just he then, who has been called the first + +subjective artist, the non-artist proper? But whence then the reverence + +which was shown to him—the poet—in very remarkable utterances by the + +Delphic oracle itself, the focus of "objective" art?

+ + + +

Schiller has enlightened us concerning his poetic procedure by a + +psychological observation, inexplicable to himself, yet not apparently + +open to any objection. He acknowledges that as the preparatory state + +to the act of poetising he had not perhaps before him or within him a + +series of pictures with co-ordinate causality of thoughts, but rather + +a musical mood ("The perception with me is at first without a clear + +and definite object; this forms itself later. A certain musical mood + +of[Pg 45] mind precedes, and only after this does the poetical idea follow + +with me.") Add to this the most important phenomenon of all ancient + +lyric poetry, the union, regarded everywhere as natural, of the + +lyrist with the musician, their very identity, indeed,—compared + +with which our modern lyric poetry is like the statue of a god without + +a head,—and we may now, on the basis of our metaphysics of æsthetics + +set forth above, interpret the lyrist to ourselves as follows. As + +Dionysian artist he is in the first place become altogether one with + +the Primordial Unity, its pain and contradiction, and he produces the + +copy of this Primordial Unity as music, granting that music has been + +correctly termed a repetition and a recast of the world; but now, under + +the Apollonian dream-inspiration, this music again becomes visible + +to him as in a symbolic dream-picture. The formless and intangible + +reflection of the primordial pain in music, with its redemption in + +appearance, then generates a second mirroring as a concrete symbol or + +example. The artist has already surrendered his subjectivity in the + +Dionysian process: the picture which now shows to him his oneness with + +the heart of the world, is a dream-scene, which embodies the primordial + +contradiction and primordial pain, together with the primordial joy, of + +appearance. The "I" of the lyrist sounds therefore from the abyss of + +being: its "subjectivity," in the sense of the modern æsthetes, is a + +fiction. When Archilochus, the first lyrist of the Greeks, makes known + +both his mad love and his contempt to the daughters of Lycambes, it is + +not his passion which[Pg 46] dances before us in orgiastic frenzy: we see + +Dionysus and the Mænads, we see the drunken reveller Archilochus sunk + +down to sleep—as Euripides depicts it in the Bacchæ, the sleep on the + +high Alpine pasture, in the noonday sun:—and now Apollo approaches and + +touches him with the laurel. The Dionyso-musical enchantment of the + +sleeper now emits, as it were, picture sparks, lyrical poems, which in + +their highest development are called tragedies and dramatic dithyrambs.

+ + + +

The plastic artist, as also the epic poet, who is related to him, is + +sunk in the pure contemplation of pictures. The Dionysian musician + +is, without any picture, himself just primordial pain and the + +primordial re-echoing thereof. The lyric genius is conscious of a + +world of pictures and symbols—growing out of the state of mystical + +self-abnegation and oneness,—which has a colouring causality and + +velocity quite different from that of the world of the plastic artist + +and epic poet. While the latter lives in these pictures, and only in + +them, with joyful satisfaction, and never grows tired of contemplating + +them with love, even in their minutest characters, while even the + +picture of the angry Achilles is to him but a picture, the angry + +expression of which he enjoys with the dream-joy in appearance—so + +that, by this mirror of appearance, he is guarded against being unified + +and blending with his figures;—the pictures of the lyrist on the other + +hand are nothing but his very self and, as it were, only different + +projections of himself, on account of which he as the moving centre + +of this world is entitled to say "I": only[Pg 47] of course this self is + +not the same as that of the waking, empirically real man, but the + +only verily existent and eternal self resting at the basis of things, + +by means of the images whereof the lyric genius sees through even to + +this basis of things. Now let us suppose that he beholds himself + +also among these images as non-genius, i.e., his subject, the whole + +throng of subjective passions and impulses of the will directed to a + +definite object which appears real to him; if now it seems as if the + +lyric genius and the allied non-genius were one, and as if the former + +spoke that little word "I" of his own accord, this appearance will no + +longer be able to lead us astray, as it certainly led those astray who + +designated the lyrist as the subjective poet. In truth, Archilochus, + +the passionately inflamed, loving and hating man, is but a vision of + +the genius, who by this time is no longer Archilochus, but a genius + +of the world, who expresses his primordial pain symbolically in the + +figure of the man Archilochus: while the subjectively willing and + +desiring man, Archilochus, can never at any time be a poet. It is by no + +means necessary, however, that the lyrist should see nothing but the + +phenomenon of the man Archilochus before him as a reflection of eternal + +being; and tragedy shows how far the visionary world of the lyrist may + +depart from this phenomenon, to which, of course, it is most intimately + +related.

+ + + +

Schopenhauer, who did not shut his eyes to the difficulty presented + +by the lyrist in the philosophical contemplation of art, thought he + +had found a way out of it, on which, however, I cannot[Pg 48] accompany him; + +while he alone, in his profound metaphysics of music, held in his + +hands the means whereby this difficulty could be definitely removed: + +as I believe I have removed it here in his spirit and to his honour. + +In contrast to our view, he describes the peculiar nature of song + +as follows[4] (Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, I. 295):—"It is + +the subject of the will, i.e., his own volition, which fills the + +consciousness of the singer; often as an unbound and satisfied desire + +(joy), but still more often as a restricted desire (grief), always as + +an emotion, a passion, or an agitated frame of mind. Besides this, + +however, and along with it, by the sight of surrounding nature, the + +singer becomes conscious of himself as the subject of pure will-less + +knowing, the unbroken, blissful peace of which now appears, in contrast + +to the stress of desire, which is always restricted and always needy. + +The feeling of this contrast, this alternation, is really what the + +song as a whole expresses and what principally constitutes the lyrical + +state of mind. In it pure knowing comes to us as it were to deliver us + +from desire and the stress thereof: we follow, but only for an instant; + +for desire, the remembrance of our personal ends, tears us anew from + +peaceful contemplation; yet ever again the next beautiful surrounding + +in which the pure will-less knowledge presents itself to us, allures + +us away from desire. Therefore, in song and in the lyrical mood, + +desire[Pg 49] (the personal interest of the ends) and the pure perception of + +the surrounding which presents itself, are wonderfully mingled with + +each other; connections between them are sought for and imagined; the + +subjective disposition, the affection of the will, imparts its own + +hue to the contemplated surrounding, and conversely, the surroundings + +communicate the reflex of their colour to the will. The true song is + +the expression of the whole of this mingled and divided state of mind."

+ + + +

Who could fail to see in this description that lyric poetry is here + +characterised as an imperfectly attained art, which seldom and only + +as it were in leaps arrives at its goal, indeed, as a semi-art, the + +essence of which is said to consist in this, that desire and pure + +contemplation, i.e., the unæsthetic and the æsthetic condition, are + +wonderfully mingled with each other? We maintain rather, that this + +entire antithesis, according to which, as according to some standard + +of value, Schopenhauer, too, still classifies the arts, the antithesis + +between the subjective and the objective, is quite out of place in + +æsthetics, inasmuch as the subject i.e., the desiring individual who + +furthers his own egoistic ends, can be conceived only as the adversary, + +not as the origin of art. In so far as the subject is the artist, + +however, he has already been released from his individual will, and has + +become as it were the medium, through which the one verily existent + +Subject celebrates his redemption in appearance. For this one thing + +must above all be clear to us, to our humiliation and exaltation, + +that the entire comedy of art is not at all performed,[Pg 50] say, for our + +betterment and culture, and that we are just as little the true authors + +of this art-world: rather we may assume with regard to ourselves, that + +its true author uses us as pictures and artistic projections, and that + +we have our highest dignity in our significance as works of art—for + +only as an æsthetic phenomenon is existence and the world eternally + +justified:—while of course our consciousness of this our specific + +significance hardly differs from the kind of consciousness which the + +soldiers painted on canvas have of the battle represented thereon. + +Hence all our knowledge of art is at bottom quite illusory, because, as + +knowing persons we are not one and identical with the Being who, as the + +sole author and spectator of this comedy of art, prepares a perpetual + +entertainment for himself. Only in so far as the genius in the act of + +artistic production coalesces with this primordial artist of the world, + +does he get a glimpse of the eternal essence of art, for in this state + +he is, in a marvellous manner, like the weird picture of the fairy-tale + +which can at will turn its eyes and behold itself; he is now at once + +subject and object, at once poet, actor, and spectator.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[4] World as Will and Idea, I. 323, 4th ed. of Haldane and + +Kemp's translation. Quoted with a few changes.

+ + + + + + + +

6.

+ + + + + +

With reference to Archilochus, it has been established by critical + +research that he introduced the folk-song into literature, and, + +on account thereof, deserved, according to the general estimate of + +the Greeks, his unique position alongside of Homer. But what is this + +popular folk-song in[Pg 51] contrast to the wholly Apollonian epos? What + +else but the perpetuum vestigium of a union of the Apollonian and + +the Dionysian? Its enormous diffusion among all peoples, still further + +enhanced by ever new births, testifies to the power of this artistic + +double impulse of nature: which leaves its vestiges in the popular + +song in like manner as the orgiastic movements of a people perpetuate + +themselves in its music. Indeed, one might also furnish historical + +proofs, that every period which is highly productive in popular songs + +has been most violently stirred by Dionysian currents, which we must + +always regard as the substratum and prerequisite of the popular song.

+ + + +

First of all, however, we regard the popular song as the musical mirror + +of the world, as the Original melody, which now seeks for itself a + +parallel dream-phenomenon and expresses it in poetry. Melody is + +therefore primary and universal, and as such may admit of several + +objectivations, in several texts. Likewise, in the naïve estimation of + +the people, it is regarded as by far the more important and necessary. + +Melody generates the poem out of itself by an ever-recurring process. + +The strophic form of the popular song points to the same phenomenon, + +which I always beheld with astonishment, till at last I found this + +explanation. Any one who in accordance with this theory examines a + +collection of popular songs, such as "Des Knaben Wunderhorn," will find + +innumerable instances of the perpetually productive melody scattering + +picture sparks all around: which in their variegation, their abrupt + +change,[Pg 52] their mad precipitance, manifest a power quite unknown to the + +epic appearance and its steady flow. From the point of view of the + +epos, this unequal and irregular pictorial world of lyric poetry must + +be simply condemned: and the solemn epic rhapsodists of the Apollonian + +festivals in the age of Terpander have certainly done so.

+ + + +

Accordingly, we observe that in the poetising of the popular song, + +language is strained to its utmost to imitate music; and hence a + +new world of poetry begins with Archilochus, which is fundamentally + +opposed to the Homeric. And in saying this we have pointed out the + +only possible relation between poetry and music, between word and + +tone: the word, the picture, the concept here seeks an expression + +analogous to music and now experiences in itself the power of music. + +In this sense we may discriminate between two main currents in the + +history of the language of the Greek people, according as their + +language imitated either the world of phenomena and of pictures, or the + +world of music. One has only to reflect seriously on the linguistic + +difference with regard to colour, syntactical structure, and vocabulary + +in Homer and Pindar, in order to comprehend the significance of this + +contrast; indeed, it becomes palpably clear to us that in the period + +between Homer and Pindar the orgiastic flute tones of Olympus must + +have sounded forth, which, in an age as late as Aristotle's, when + +music was infinitely more developed, transported people to drunken + +enthusiasm, and which, when their influence was first felt, undoubtedly + +incited all the poetic means of[Pg 53] expression of contemporaneous man + +to imitation. I here call attention to a familiar phenomenon of our + +own times, against which our æsthetics raises many objections. We + +again and again have occasion to observe how a symphony of Beethoven + +compels the individual hearers to use figurative speech, though the + +appearance presented by a collocation of the different pictorial + +world generated by a piece of music may be never so fantastically + +diversified and even contradictory. To practise its small wit on such + +compositions, and to overlook a phenomenon which is certainly worth + +explaining, is quite in keeping with this æsthetics. Indeed, even if + +the tone-poet has spoken in pictures concerning a composition, when for + +instance he designates a certain symphony as the "pastoral" symphony, + +or a passage therein as "the scene by the brook," or another as the + +"merry gathering of rustics," these are likewise only symbolical + +representations born out of music—and not perhaps the imitated objects + +of music—representations which can give us no information whatever + +concerning the Dionysian content of music, and which in fact have + +no distinctive value of their own alongside of other pictorical + +expressions. This process of a discharge of music in pictures we have + +now to transfer to some youthful, linguistically productive people, to + +get a notion as to how the strophic popular song originates, and how + +the entire faculty of speech is stimulated by this new principle of + +imitation of music.

+ + + +

If, therefore, we may regard lyric poetry as the effulguration of + +music in pictures and concepts,[Pg 54] we can now ask: "how does music + +appear in the mirror of symbolism and conception?" It appears as + +will, taking the word in the Schopenhauerian sense, i.e., as the + +antithesis of the æsthetic, purely contemplative, and passive frame + +of mind. Here, however, we must discriminate as sharply as possible + +between the concept of essentiality and the concept of phenominality; + +for music, according to its essence, cannot be will, because as such it + +would have to be wholly banished from the domain of art—for the will + +is the unæsthetic-in-itself;—yet it appears as will. For in order to + +express the phenomenon of music in pictures, the lyrist requires all + +the stirrings of passion, from the whispering of infant desire to the + +roaring of madness. Under the impulse to speak of music in Apollonian + +symbols, he conceives of all nature, and himself therein, only as the + +eternally willing, desiring, longing existence. But in so far as he + +interprets music by means of pictures, he himself rests in the quiet + +calm of Apollonian contemplation, however much all around him which + +he beholds through the medium of music is in a state of confused and + +violent motion. Indeed, when he beholds himself through this same + +medium, his own image appears to him in a state of unsatisfied feeling: + +his own willing, longing, moaning and rejoicing are to him symbols by + +which he interprets music. Such is the phenomenon of the lyrist: as + +Apollonian genius he interprets music through the image of the will, + +while he himself, completely released from the avidity of the will, is + +the pure, undimmed eye of day.

+ + + +

[Pg 55]

+ + + +

Our whole disquisition insists on this, that lyric poetry is dependent + +on the spirit of music just as music itself in its absolute sovereignty + +does not require the picture and the concept, but only endures + +them as accompaniments. The poems of the lyrist can express nothing + +which has not already been contained in the vast universality and + +absoluteness of the music which compelled him to use figurative + +speech. By no means is it possible for language adequately to render + +the cosmic symbolism of music, for the very reason that music stands + +in symbolic relation to the primordial contradiction and primordial + +pain in the heart of the Primordial Unity, and therefore symbolises a + +sphere which is above all appearance and before all phenomena. Rather + +should we say that all phenomena, compared with it, are but symbols: + +hence language, as the organ and symbol of phenomena, cannot at all + +disclose the innermost essence, of music; language can only be in + +superficial contact with music when it attempts to imitate music; while + +the profoundest significance of the latter cannot be brought one step + +nearer to us by all the eloquence of lyric poetry.

+ + + + + + + +

7.

+ + + + + +

We shall now have to avail ourselves of all the principles of art + +hitherto considered, in order to find our way through the labyrinth, + +as we must designate the origin of Greek tragedy. I shall not be + +charged with absurdity in saying that the[Pg 56] problem of this origin has + +as yet not even been seriously stated, not to say solved, however + +often the fluttering tatters of ancient tradition have been sewed + +together in sundry combinations and torn asunder again. This tradition + +tells us in the most unequivocal terms, that tragedy sprang from the + +tragic chorus, and was originally only chorus and nothing but chorus: + +and hence we feel it our duty to look into the heart of this tragic + +chorus as being the real proto-drama, without in the least contenting + +ourselves with current art-phraseology—according to which the chorus + +is the ideal spectator, or represents the people in contrast to the + +regal side of the scene. The latter explanatory notion, which sounds + +sublime to many a politician—that the immutable moral law was embodied + +by the democratic Athenians in the popular chorus, which always carries + +its point over the passionate excesses and extravagances of kings—may + +be ever so forcibly suggested by an observation of Aristotle: still + +it has no bearing on the original formation of tragedy, inasmuch + +as the entire antithesis of king and people, and, in general, the + +whole politico-social sphere, is excluded from the purely religious + +beginnings of tragedy; but, considering the well-known classical + +form of the chorus in Æschylus and Sophocles, we should even deem + +it blasphemy to speak here of the anticipation of a "constitutional + +representation of the people," from which blasphemy others have not + +shrunk, however. The ancient governments knew of no constitutional + +representation of the people in praxi, and it is to[Pg 57] be hoped that + +they did not even so much as "anticipate" it in tragedy.

+ + + +

Much more celebrated than this political explanation of the chorus is + +the notion of A. W. Schlegel, who advises us to regard the chorus, in + +a manner, as the essence and extract of the crowd of spectators,—as + +the "ideal spectator." This view when compared with the historical + +tradition that tragedy was originally only chorus, reveals itself + +in its true character, as a crude, unscientific, yet brilliant + +assertion, which, however, has acquired its brilliancy only through + +its concentrated form of expression, through the truly Germanic bias + +in favour of whatever is called "ideal," and through our momentary + +astonishment. For we are indeed astonished the moment we compare our + +well-known theatrical public with this chorus, and ask ourselves if it + +could ever be possible to idealise something analogous to the Greek + +chorus out of such a public. We tacitly deny this, and now wonder + +as much at the boldness of Schlegel's assertion as at the totally + +different nature of the Greek public. For hitherto we always believed + +that the true spectator, be he who he may, had always to remain + +conscious of having before him a work of art, and not an empiric + +reality: whereas the tragic chorus of the Greeks is compelled to + +recognise real beings in the figures of the stage. The chorus of the + +Oceanides really believes that it sees before it the Titan Prometheus, + +and considers itself as real as the god of the scene. And are we to + +own that he is the highest and purest type of spectator, who, like the + +Oceanides, regards Prometheus as[Pg 58] real and present in body? And is it + +characteristic of the ideal spectator that he should run on the stage + +and free the god from his torments? We had believed in an æsthetic + +public, and considered the individual spectator the better qualified + +the more he was capable of viewing a work of art as art, that is, + +æsthetically; but now the Schlegelian expression has intimated to us, + +that the perfect ideal spectator does not at all suffer the world of + +the scenes to act æsthetically on him, but corporeo-empirically. Oh, + +these Greeks! we have sighed; they will upset our æsthetics! But once + +accustomed to it, we have reiterated the saying of Schlegel, as often + +as the subject of the chorus has been broached.

+ + + +

But the tradition which is so explicit here speaks against Schlegel: + +the chorus as such, without the stage,—the primitive form of + +tragedy,—and the chorus of ideal spectators do not harmonise. What + +kind of art would that be which was extracted from the concept of the + +spectator, and whereof we are to regard the "spectator as such" as the + +true form? The spectator without the play is something absurd. We fear + +that the birth of tragedy can be explained neither by the high esteem + +for the moral intelligence of the multitude nor by the concept of the + +spectator without the play; and we regard the problem as too deep to be + +even so much as touched by such superficial modes of contemplation.

+ + + +

An infinitely more valuable insight into the signification of the + +chorus had already been displayed by Schiller in the celebrated Preface + +to his[Pg 59] Bride of Messina, where he regarded the chorus as a living wall + +which tragedy draws round herself to guard her from contact with the + +world of reality, and to preserve her ideal domain and poetical freedom.

+ + + +

It is with this, his chief weapon, that Schiller combats the ordinary + +conception of the natural, the illusion ordinarily required in + +dramatic poetry. He contends that while indeed the day on the stage is + +merely artificial, the architecture only symbolical, and the metrical + +dialogue purely ideal in character, nevertheless an erroneous view + +still prevails in the main: that it is not enough to tolerate merely + +as a poetical license that which is in reality the essence of all + +poetry. The introduction of the chorus is, he says, the decisive step + +by which war is declared openly and honestly against all naturalism + +in art.—It is, methinks, for disparaging this mode of contemplation + +that our would-be superior age has coined the disdainful catchword + +"pseudo-idealism." I fear, however, that we on the other hand with our + +present worship of the natural and the real have landed at the nadir + +of all idealism, namely in the region of cabinets of wax-figures. An + +art indeed exists also here, as in certain novels much in vogue at + +present: but let no one pester us with the claim that by this art the + +Schiller-Goethian "Pseudo-idealism" has been vanquished.

+ + + +

It is indeed an "ideal" domain, as Schiller rightly perceived, + +upon—which the Greek satyric chorus, the chorus of primitive tragedy, + +was wont to walk, a domain raised far above the actual path[Pg 60] of + +mortals. The Greek framed for this chorus the suspended scaffolding of + +a fictitious natural state and placed thereon fictitious natural + +beings. It is on this foundation that tragedy grew up, and so it + +could of course dispense from the very first with a painful portrayal + +of reality. Yet it is, not an arbitrary world placed by fancy betwixt + +heaven and earth; rather is it a world possessing the same reality + +and trustworthiness that Olympus with its dwellers possessed for the + +believing Hellene. The satyr, as being the Dionysian chorist, lives + +in a religiously acknowledged reality under the sanction of the myth + +and cult. That tragedy begins with him, that the Dionysian wisdom of + +tragedy speaks through him, is just as surprising a phenomenon to us + +as, in general, the derivation of tragedy from the chorus. Perhaps + +we shall get a starting-point for our inquiry, if I put forward the + +proposition that the satyr, the fictitious natural being, is to the + +man of culture what Dionysian music is to civilisation. Concerning + +this latter, Richard Wagner says that it is neutralised by music even + +as lamplight by daylight. In like manner, I believe, the Greek man of + +culture felt himself neutralised in the presence of the satyric chorus: + +and this is the most immediate effect of the Dionysian tragedy, that + +the state and society, and, in general, the gaps between man and man + +give way to an overwhelming feeling of oneness, which leads back to + +the heart of nature. The metaphysical comfort,—with which, as I have + +here intimated, every true tragedy dismisses us—that, in spite of + +the perpetual change of phenomena,[Pg 61] life at bottom is indestructibly + +powerful and pleasurable, this comfort appears with corporeal lucidity + +as the satyric chorus, as the chorus of natural beings, who live + +ineradicable as it were behind all civilisation, and who, in spite of + +the ceaseless change of generations and the history of nations, remain + +for ever the same.

+ + + +

With this chorus the deep-minded Hellene, who is so singularly + +qualified for the most delicate and severe suffering, consoles + +himself:—he who has glanced with piercing eye into the very heart of + +the terrible destructive processes of so-called universal history, as + +also into the cruelty of nature, and is in danger of longing for a + +Buddhistic negation of the will. Art saves him, and through art life + +saves him—for herself.

+ + + +

For we must know that in the rapture of the Dionysian state, with its + +annihilation of the ordinary bounds and limits of existence, there is + +a lethargic element, wherein all personal experiences of the past + +are submerged. It is by this gulf of oblivion that the everyday world + +and the world of Dionysian reality are separated from each other. But + +as soon as this everyday reality rises again in consciousness, it is + +felt as such, and nauseates us; an ascetic will-paralysing mood is + +the fruit of these states. In this sense the Dionysian man may be + +said to resemble Hamlet: both have for once seen into the true nature + +of things, —they have perceived, but they are loath to act; for + +their action cannot change the eternal nature of things; they regard + +it as shameful or ridiculous that one should require of them to set + +aright the[Pg 62] time which is out of joint. Knowledge kills action, action + +requires the veil of illusion—it is this lesson which Hamlet teaches, + +and not the cheap wisdom of John-a-Dreams who from too much reflection, + +as it were from a surplus of possibilities, does not arrive at action + +at all. Not reflection, no!—true knowledge, insight into appalling + +truth, preponderates over all motives inciting to action, in Hamlet as + +well as in the Dionysian man. No comfort avails any longer; his longing + +goes beyond a world after death, beyond the gods themselves; existence + +with its glittering reflection in the gods, or in an immortal other + +world is abjured. In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, + +man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of + +existence, he now understands the symbolism in the fate of Ophelia, he + +now discerns the wisdom of the sylvan god Silenus: and loathing seizes + +him.

+ + + +

Here, in this extremest danger of the will, art approaches, as a + +saving and healing enchantress; she alone is able to transform these + +nauseating reflections on the awfulness or absurdity of existence + +into representations wherewith it is possible to live: these are the + +representations of the sublime as the artistic subjugation of the + +awful, and the comic as the artistic delivery from the nausea of + +the absurd. The satyric chorus of dithyramb is the saving deed of + +Greek art; the paroxysms described above spent their force in the + +intermediary world of these Dionysian followers.

+ + + +

[Pg 63]

+ + + + + + + +

8.

+ + + + + +

The satyr, like the idyllic shepherd of our more recent time, is the + +offspring of a longing after the Primitive and the Natural; but mark + +with what firmness and fearlessness the Greek embraced the man of + +the woods, and again, how coyly and mawkishly the modern man dallied + +with the flattering picture of a tender, flute-playing, soft-natured + +shepherd! Nature, on which as yet no knowledge has been at work, + +which maintains unbroken barriers to culture—this is what the Greek + +saw in his satyr, which still was not on this account supposed to + +coincide with the ape. On the contrary: it was the archetype of + +man, the embodiment of his highest and strongest emotions, as the + +enthusiastic reveller enraptured By the proximity of his god, as the + +fellow-suffering companion in whom the suffering of the god repeats + +itself, as the herald of wisdom speaking from the very depths of + +nature, as the emblem of the sexual omnipotence of nature, which the + +Greek was wont to contemplate with reverential awe. The satyr was + +something sublime and godlike: he could not but appear so, especially + +to the sad and wearied eye of the Dionysian man. He would have been + +offended by our spurious tricked-up shepherd, while his eye dwelt + +with sublime satisfaction on the naked and unstuntedly magnificent + +characters of nature: here the illusion of culture was brushed away + +from the archetype of man; here the true man, the bearded satyr, + +revealed himself, who shouts joyfully to his god. Before[Pg 64] him the + +cultured man shrank to a lying caricature. Schiller is right also + +with reference to these beginnings of tragic art: the chorus is a + +living bulwark against the onsets of reality, because it—the satyric + +chorus—portrays existence more truthfully, more realistically, more + +perfectly than the cultured man who ordinarily considers himself as the + +only reality. The sphere of poetry does not lie outside the world, like + +some fantastic impossibility of a poet's imagination: it seeks to be + +the very opposite, the unvarnished expression of truth, and must for + +this very reason cast aside the false finery of that supposed reality + +of the cultured man. The contrast between this intrinsic truth of + +nature and the falsehood of culture, which poses as the only reality, + +is similar to that existing between the eternal kernel of things, the + +thing in itself, and the collective world of phenomena. And even as + +tragedy, with its metaphysical comfort, points to the eternal life of + +this kernel of existence, notwithstanding the perpetual dissolution of + +phenomena, so the symbolism of the satyric chorus already expresses + +figuratively this primordial relation between the thing in itself and + +phenomenon. The idyllic shepherd of the modern man is but a copy of the + +sum of the illusions of culture which he calls nature; the Dionysian + +Greek desires truth and nature in their most potent form;—he sees + +himself metamorphosed into the satyr.

+ + + +

The revelling crowd of the votaries of Dionysus rejoices, swayed by + +such moods and perceptions, the power of which transforms them before + +their[Pg 65] own eyes, so that they imagine they behold themselves as + +reconstituted genii of nature, as satyrs. The later constitution of the + +tragic chorus is the artistic imitation of this natural phenomenon, + +which of course required a separation of the Dionysian spectators from + +the enchanted Dionysians. However, we must never lose sight of the fact + +that the public of the Attic tragedy rediscovered itself in the chorus + +of the orchestra, that there was in reality no antithesis of public + +and chorus: for all was but one great sublime chorus of dancing and + +singing satyrs, or of such as allowed themselves to be represented by + +the satyrs. The Schlegelian observation must here reveal itself to us + +in a deeper sense. The chorus is the "ideal spectator"[5] in so far as + +it is the only beholder,[6] the beholder of the visionary world of + +the scene. A public of spectators, as known to us, was unknown to the + +Greeks. In their theatres the terraced structure of the spectators' + +space rising in concentric arcs enabled every one, in the strictest + +sense, to overlook the entire world of culture around him, and in + +surfeited contemplation to imagine himself a chorist. According to + +this view, then, we may call the chorus in its primitive stage in + +proto-tragedy, a self-mirroring of the Dionysian man: a phenomenon + +which may be best exemplified by the process of the actor, who, if he + +be truly gifted, sees hovering before his eyes with almost tangible + +perceptibility the character he is to represent. The satyric chorus + +is first of all a[Pg 66] vision of the Dionysian throng, just as the world + +of the stage is, in turn, a vision of the satyric chorus: the power + +of this vision is great enough to render the eye dull and insensible + +to the impression of "reality," to the presence of the cultured men + +occupying the tiers of seats on every side. The form of the Greek + +theatre reminds one of a lonesome mountain-valley: the architecture of + +the scene appears like a luminous cloud-picture which the Bacchants + +swarming on the mountains behold from the heights, as the splendid + +encirclement in the midst of which the image of Dionysus is revealed to + +them.

+ + + +

Owing to our learned conception of the elementary artistic processes, + +this artistic proto-phenomenon, which is here introduced to explain + +the tragic chorus, is almost shocking: while nothing can be more + +certain than that the poet is a poet only in that he beholds himself + +surrounded by forms which live and act before him, into the innermost + +being of which his glance penetrates. By reason of a strange defeat in + +our capacities, we modern men are apt to represent to ourselves the + +æsthetic proto-phenomenon as too complex and abstract. For the true + +poet the metaphor is not a rhetorical figure, but a vicarious image + +which actually hovers before him in place of a concept. The character + +is not for him an aggregate composed of a studied collection of + +particular traits, but an irrepressibly live person appearing before + +his eyes, and differing only from the corresponding vision of the + +painter by its ever continued life and action. Why is it that[Pg 67] Homer + +sketches much more vividly[7] than all the other poets? Because he + +contemplates[8] much more. We talk so abstractly about poetry, because + +we are all wont to be bad poets. At bottom the æsthetic phenomenon is + +simple: let a man but have the faculty of perpetually seeing a lively + +play and of constantly living surrounded by hosts of spirits, then he + +is a poet: let him but feel the impulse to transform himself and to + +talk from out the bodies and souls of others, then he is a dramatist.

+ + + +

The Dionysian excitement is able to impart to a whole mass of men + +this artistic faculty of seeing themselves surrounded by such a host + +of spirits, with whom they know themselves to be inwardly one. This + +function of the tragic chorus is the dramatic proto-phenomenon: to + +see one's self transformed before one's self, and then to act as if + +one had really entered into another body, into another character. This + +function stands at the beginning of the development of the drama. + +Here we have something different from the rhapsodist, who does not + +blend with his pictures, but only sees them, like the painter, with + +contemplative eye outside of him; here we actually have a surrender + +of the individual by his entering into another nature. Moreover this + +phenomenon appears in the form of an epidemic: a whole throng feels + +itself metamorphosed in this wise. Hence it is that the dithyramb is + +essentially different from every other variety of the choric song. The + +virgins, who with[Pg 68] laurel twigs in their hands solemnly proceed to + +the temple of Apollo and sing a processional hymn, remain what they + +are and retain their civic names: the dithyrambic chorus is a chorus + +of transformed beings, whose civic past and social rank are totally + +forgotten: they have become the timeless servants of their god that + +live aloof from all the spheres of society. Every other variety of + +the choric lyric of the Hellenes is but an enormous enhancement of + +the Apollonian unit-singer: while in the dithyramb we have before us + +a community of unconscious actors, who mutually regard themselves as + +transformed among one another.

+ + + +

This enchantment is the prerequisite of all dramatic art. In this + +enchantment the Dionysian reveller sees himself as a satyr, and as + +satyr he in turn beholds the god, that is, in his transformation he + +sees a new vision outside him as the Apollonian consummation of his + +state. With this new vision the drama is complete.

+ + + +

According to this view, we must understand Greek tragedy as the + +Dionysian chorus, which always disburdens itself anew in an Apollonian + +world of pictures. The choric parts, therefore, with which tragedy is + +interlaced, are in a manner the mother-womb of the entire so-called + +dialogue, that is, of the whole stage-world, of the drama proper. In + +several successive outbursts does this primordial basis of tragedy beam + +forth the vision of the drama, which is a dream-phenomenon throughout, + +and, as such, epic in character: on the other hand, however, as + +objectivation of a[Pg 69] Dionysian state, it does not represent the + +Apollonian redemption in appearance, but, conversely, the dissolution + +of the individual and his unification with primordial existence. + +Accordingly, the drama is the Apollonian embodiment of Dionysian + +perceptions and influences, and is thereby separated from the epic as + +by an immense gap.

+ + + +

The chorus of Greek tragedy, the symbol of the mass of the people + +moved by Dionysian excitement, is thus fully explained by our + +conception of it as here set forth. Whereas, being accustomed to the + +position of a chorus on the modern stage, especially an operatic + +chorus, we could never comprehend why the tragic chorus of the Greeks + +should be older, more primitive, indeed, more important than the + +"action" proper,—as has been so plainly declared by the voice of + +tradition; whereas, furthermore, we could not reconcile with this + +traditional paramount importance and primitiveness the fact of the + +chorus' being composed only of humble, ministering beings; indeed, at + +first only of goatlike satyrs; whereas, finally, the orchestra before + +the scene was always a riddle to us; we have learned to comprehend at + +length that the scene, together with the action, was fundamentally + +and originally conceived only as a vision, that the only reality + +is just the chorus, which of itself generates the vision and speaks + +thereof with the entire symbolism of dancing, tone, and word. This + +chorus beholds in the vision its lord and master Dionysus, and is thus + +for ever the serving chorus: it sees how he, the god, suffers and + +glorifies himself, and therefore does not itself act.[Pg 70] But though its + +attitude towards the god is throughout the attitude of ministration, + +this is nevertheless the highest expression, the Dionysian expression + +of Nature, and therefore, like Nature herself, the chorus utters + +oracles and wise sayings when transported with enthusiasm: as + +fellow-sufferer it is also the sage proclaiming truth from out the + +heart of Nature. Thus, then, originates the fantastic figure, which + +seems so shocking, of the wise and enthusiastic satyr, who is at the + +same time "the dumb man" in contrast to the god: the image of Nature + +and her strongest impulses, yea, the symbol of Nature, and at the same + +time the herald of her art and wisdom: musician, poet, dancer, and + +visionary in one person.

+ + + +

Agreeably to this view, and agreeably to tradition, Dionysus, the + +proper stage-hero and focus of vision, is not at first actually present + +in the oldest period of tragedy, but is only imagined as present: + +i.e., tragedy is originally only "chorus" and not "drama." Later + +on the attempt is made to exhibit the god as real and to display the + +visionary figure together with its glorifying encirclement before the + +eyes of all; it is here that the "drama" in the narrow sense of the + +term begins. To the dithyrambic chorus is now assigned the task of + +exciting the minds of the hearers to such a pitch of Dionysian frenzy, + +that, when the tragic hero appears on the stage, they do not behold + +in him, say, the unshapely masked man, but a visionary figure, born + +as it were of their own ecstasy. Let us picture Admetes thinking[Pg 71] in + +profound meditation of his lately departed wife Alcestis, and quite + +consuming himself in spiritual contemplation thereof—when suddenly + +the veiled figure of a woman resembling her in form and gait is led + +towards him: let us picture his sudden trembling anxiety, his agitated + +comparisons, his instinctive conviction—and we shall have an analogon + +to the sensation with which the spectator, excited to Dionysian frenzy, + +saw the god approaching on the stage, a god with whose sufferings he + +had already become identified. He involuntarily transferred the entire + +picture of the god, fluttering magically before his soul, to this + +masked figure and resolved its reality as it were into a phantasmal + +unreality. This is the Apollonian dream-state, in which the world + +of day is veiled, and a new world, clearer, more intelligible, more + +striking than the former, and nevertheless more shadowy, is ever born + +anew in perpetual change before our eyes. We accordingly recognise in + +tragedy a thorough-going stylistic contrast: the language, colour, + +flexibility and dynamics of the dialogue fall apart in the Dionysian + +lyrics of the chorus on the one hand, and in the Apollonian dream-world + +of the scene on the other, into entirely separate spheres of + +expression. The Apollonian appearances, in which Dionysus objectifies + +himself, are no longer "ein ewiges Meer, ein wechselnd Weben, ein + +glühend Leben,"[9] as is the music of the chorus,[Pg 72] they are no longer + +the forces merely felt, but not condensed into a picture, by which + +the inspired votary of Dionysus divines the proximity of his god: the + +clearness and firmness of epic form now speak to him from the scene, + +Dionysus now no longer speaks through forces, but as an epic hero, + +almost in the language of Homer.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[5] Zuschauer.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[6] Schauer.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[7] Anschaulicher.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[8] Anschaut.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[9] An eternal sea, A weaving, flowing, Life, all glowing. + +Faust, trans. of Bayard Taylor.—TR.

+ + + + + + + +

9.

+ + + + + +

Whatever rises to the surface in the dialogue of the Apollonian part + +of Greek tragedy, appears simple, transparent, beautiful. In this + +sense the dialogue is a copy of the Hellene, whose nature reveals + +itself in the dance, because in the dance the greatest energy is merely + +potential, but betrays itself nevertheless in flexible and vivacious + +movements. The language of the Sophoclean heroes, for instance, + +surprises us by its Apollonian precision and clearness, so that we at + +once imagine we see into the innermost recesses of their being, and + +marvel not a little that the way to these recesses is so short. But + +if for the moment we disregard the character of the hero which rises + +to the surface and grows visible—and which at bottom is nothing but + +the light-picture cast on a dark wall, that is, appearance through and + +through,—if rather we enter into the myth which projects itself in + +these bright mirrorings, we shall of a sudden experience a phenomenon + +which bears a reverse relation to one familiar in optics. When, after + +a vigorous effort to gaze into the sun, we turn away blinded,[Pg 73] we have + +dark-coloured spots before our eyes as restoratives, so to speak; + +while, on the contrary, those light-picture phenomena of the Sophoclean + +hero,—in short, the Apollonian of the mask,—are the necessary + +productions of a glance into the secret and terrible things of nature, + +as it were shining spots to heal the eye which dire night has seared. + +Only in this sense can we hope to be able to grasp the true meaning of + +the serious and significant notion of "Greek cheerfulness"; while of + +course we encounter the misunderstood notion of this cheerfulness, as + +resulting from a state of unendangered comfort, on all the ways and + +paths of the present time.

+ + + +

The most sorrowful figure of the Greek stage, the hapless Œdipus, + +was understood by Sophocles as the noble man, who in spite of his + +wisdom was destined to error and misery, but nevertheless through + +his extraordinary sufferings ultimately exerted a magical, wholesome + +influence on all around him, which continues effective even after + +his death. The noble man does not sin; this is what the thoughtful + +poet wishes to tell us: all laws, all natural order, yea, the moral + +world itself, may be destroyed through his action, but through this + +very action a higher magic circle of influences is brought into play, + +which establish a new world on the ruins of the old that has been + +overthrown. This is what the poet, in so far as he is at the same time + +a religious thinker, wishes to tell us: as poet, he shows us first of + +all a wonderfully complicated legal mystery, which the judge slowly + +unravels, link by link, to his own destruction.[Pg 74] The truly Hellenic + +delight at this dialectical loosening is so great, that a touch of + +surpassing cheerfulness is thereby communicated to the entire play, + +which everywhere blunts the edge of the horrible presuppositions of the + +procedure. In the "Œdipus at Colonus" we find the same cheerfulness, + +elevated, however, to an infinite transfiguration: in contrast to + +the aged king, subjected to an excess of misery, and exposed solely + +as a sufferer to all that befalls him, we have here a supermundane + +cheerfulness, which descends from a divine sphere and intimates to + +us that in his purely passive attitude the hero attains his highest + +activity, the influence of which extends far beyond his life, while + +his earlier conscious musing and striving led him only to passivity. + +Thus, then, the legal knot of the fable of Œdipus, which to mortal + +eyes appears indissolubly entangled, is slowly unravelled—and the + +profoundest human joy comes upon us in the presence of this divine + +counterpart of dialectics. If this explanation does justice to the + +poet, it may still be asked whether the substance of the myth is + +thereby exhausted; and here it turns out that the entire conception + +of the poet is nothing but the light-picture which healing nature + +holds up to us after a glance into the abyss. Œdipus, the murderer of + +his father, the husband of his mother, Œdipus, the interpreter of the + +riddle of the Sphinx! What does the mysterious triad of these deeds + +of destiny tell us? There is a primitive popular belief, especially + +in Persia, that a wise Magian can be born only of incest: which + +we have forthwith to interpret to ourselves with reference to the + +riddle-solving[Pg 75] and mother-marrying Œdipus, to the effect that when + +the boundary of the present and future, the rigid law of individuation + +and, in general, the intrinsic spell of nature, are broken by prophetic + +and magical powers, an extraordinary counter-naturalness—as, in this + +case, incest—must have preceded as a cause; for how else could one + +force nature to surrender her secrets but by victoriously opposing her, + +i.e., by means of the Unnatural? It is this intuition which I see + +imprinted in the awful triad of the destiny of Œdipus: the very man + +who solves the riddle of nature—that double-constituted Sphinx—must + +also, as the murderer of his father and husband of his mother, break + +the holiest laws of nature. Indeed, it seems as if the myth sought to + +whisper into our ears that wisdom, especially Dionysian wisdom, is + +an unnatural abomination, and that whoever, through his knowledge, + +plunges nature into an abyss of annihilation, must also experience + +the dissolution of nature in himself. "The sharpness of wisdom turns + +round upon the sage: wisdom is a crime against nature": such terrible + +expressions does the myth call out to us: but the Hellenic poet touches + +like a sunbeam the sublime and formidable Memnonian statue of the myth, + +so that it suddenly begins to sound—in Sophoclean melodies.

+ + + +

With the glory of passivity I now contrast the glory of activity which + +illuminates the Prometheus of Æschylus. That which Æschylus the + +thinker had to tell us here, but which as a poet he only allows us to + +surmise by his symbolic picture, the youthful Goethe succeeded[Pg 76] in + +disclosing to us in the daring words of his Prometheus:—

+ + + +

+ +"Hier sitz' ich, forme Menschen
+ +Nach meinem Bilde,
+ +Ein Geschlecht, das mir gleich sei,
+ +Zu leiden, zu weinen,
+ +Zu geniessen und zu freuen sich,
+ +Und dein nicht zu achten,
+ +Wie ich!"[10]
+

-

-CHAPTER X -

- -

-CHARLOTTE PATACAKE ASTONISHES THE CRITICS -

- -

-The Lady Belvane sits in her garden. She is very happy. An enormous -quill-pen, taken from a former favourite goose and coloured red, is in -her right hand. The hair of her dark head, held on one side, touches -the paper whereon she writes, and her little tongue peeps out between -her red lips. Her left hand taps the table—one-two, one-two, -one-two, one-two, one-two. She is composing. -

- -

-Wonderful woman! -

- -

-You remember that scene with the Princess Hyacinth? "I feel we want a -little outside help in our affairs." A fortnight of suspense before -Prince Udo arrived. What had the ring done to him? At the best, even -if there would be no Udo at all to interfere, nevertheless she knew -that she had lost her footing at the Palace. She and the Princess -would now be open enemies. At the worst—those magic rings were so -untrustworthy!—a Prince, still powerful, and now seriously annoyed, -might be leagued against her. -

- -

-Yet she composed. -

- -

-And what is she writing? She is entering for the competition in -connection with the Encouragement of Literature Scheme: the last -scheme which the Princess had signed. -

- -

-I like to think of her peacefully writing at a time when her whole -future hung in the balance. Roger sneers at her. "Even now," he -says, "she was hoping to wring a last bag-full of gold from her -wretched country." I deny emphatically that she was doing anything of -the sort. She was entering for a duly authorised competition under -the pen-name of Charlotte Patacake. The fact that the Countess -Belvane, according to the provisions of the scheme, was sole judge of -the competition, is beside the point. Belvane's opinion of Charlotte -Patacake's poetry was utterly sincere, and uninfluenced in any way by -monetary considerations. If Patacake were rewarded the first prize it -would be because Belvane honestly thought she was worth it. -

- -

-One other fact by way of defence against Roger's slanders. As judge, -Belvane had chosen the subject of the prize poems. Now Belvane and -Patacake both excelled in the lighter forms of lyrical verse; yet the -subject of the poem was to be epic. "The Barodo-Euralian War"—no -less. How many modern writers would be as fair? -

- -

-"THE BARODO-EURALIAN WAR." -

- -

-This line is written in gold, and by itself would obtain a prize in -any local competition. -

- -

- King Merriwig the First rode out to war
- As many other kings had done before!
- Five hundred men behind him marched to fight—
-

- -

-There follows a good deal of scratching out, and then comes (a sudden -inspiration) this sublimely simple line: -

- -

- Left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right.
-

- -

-One can almost hear the men moving. -

- -

- What gladsome cheers assailed the balmy air—
- They came from north, from south, from everywhere!
- No wight that stood upon that sacred scene
- Could gaze upon the sight unmoved, I ween:
- No wight that stood upon that sacred spot
- Could gaze upon the sight unmoved, I wot:
-

- -

-It is not quite clear whether the last couplet is an alternative to -the couplet before or is purposely added in order to strengthen it. -Looking over her left shoulder it seems to me that there is a line -drawn through the first one, but I cannot see very clearly because of -her hair, which will keep straying over the page. -

- -

- Why do they march so fearless and so bold?
- The answer is not very quickly told.
- To put it shortly, the Barodian king
- Insulted Merriwig like anything—
- King Merriwig, the dignified and wise,
- Who saw him flying over with surprise,
- As did his daughter, Princess Hyacinth.
-

- -

-This was as far as she had got. -

- -

-She left the table and began to walk round her garden. There is -nothing like it for assisting thought. However, to-day it was not -helping much; she went three times round and still couldn't think of a -rhyme for Hyacinth. "Plinth" was a little difficult to work in; -"besides," she reminded herself, "I don't quite know what it means." -Belvane felt as I do about poetry: that however incomprehensible it -may be to the public, the author should be quite at ease with it. -

- -

-She added up the lines she had written already—seventeen. If she -stopped there, it would be the only epic that had stopped at the -seventeenth line. -

- -

-She sighed, stretched her arms, and looked up at the sky. The weather -was all against her. It was the ideal largesse morning. . . . -

- -

-Twenty minutes later she was on her cream-white palfrey. Twenty-one -minutes later Henrietta Crossbuns had received a bag of gold neatly -under the eye, as she bobbed to her Ladyship. To this extent only did -H. Crossbuns leave her mark upon Euralian history; but it was a mark -which lasted for a full month. -

- -

-Hyacinth knew nothing of all this. She did not even know that Belvane -was entering for the prize poem. She had forgotten her promise to -encourage literature in the realm. -

- -

-And why? Ah, ladies, can you not guess why? She was thinking of -Prince Udo of Araby. What did he look like? Was he dark or fair? -Did his hair curl naturally or not? -

- -

-Was he wondering at all what she looked like? -

- -

-Wiggs had already decided that he was to fall in love with her Royal -Highness and marry her. -

- -

-"I think," said Wiggs, "that he'll be very tall, and have lovely blue -eyes and golden hair." -

- -

-This is what they were like in all the books she had ever dusted; like -this were the seven Princes (now pursuing perilous adventures in -distant countries) to whom the King had promised Hyacinth's -hand—Prince Hanspatch of Tregong, Prince Ulric, the Duke of -Highanlow, and all the rest of them. Poor Prince Ulric! In the -moment of victory he was accidentally fallen upon by the giant whom he -was engaged in undermining, and lost all appetite for adventure -thereby. Indeed, in his latter years he was alarmed by anything -larger than a goldfish, and lived a life of strictest seclusion. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"I think he'll be dark," said Hyacinth. Her own hair was -corn-coloured. -

- -

-Poor Prince Hanspatch of Tregong; I've just remembered about him—no, -I haven't, it was the Duke of Highanlow. Poor Duke of Highanlow! A -misunderstanding with a wizard having caused his head to face the -wrong way round, he was so often said good-bye to at the very moment -of arrival, that he gradually lost his enthusiasm for social -enterprises and confined himself to his own palace, where his -acrobatic dexterity in supplying himself with soup was a constant -source of admiration to his servants. . . . -

- -

-However, it was Prince Udo of whom they were thinking now. The -Messenger had returned from Araby; his Royal Highness must be expected -on the morrow. -

- -

-"I do hope he'll be comfortable in the Purple Room," said Hyacinth. -"I wonder if it wouldn't have been better to have left him in the Blue -Room, after all." -

- -

-They had had him in the Blue Room two days ago, until Hyacinth thought -that perhaps he would be more comfortable in the Purple Room, after -all. -

- -

-"The Purple Room has the best view," said Wiggs helpfully. -

- -

-"And it gets the sun. Wiggs, don't forget to put some flowers there. -And have you given him any books?" -

- -

-"I gave him two," said Wiggs. "Quests for Princes, and Wild -Animals at Home." -

- -

-"Oh, I'm sure he'll like those. Now let's think what we shall do when -he comes. He'll arrive some time in the afternoon. Naturally he will -want a little refreshment." -

- -

-"Would he like a picnic in the forest?" asked Wiggs. -

- -

-"I don't think any one wants a picnic after a long journey." -

- -

-"I love picnics." -

- -

-"Yes, dear; but, you see, Prince Udo's much older than you, and I -expect he's had so many picnics that he's tired of them. I suppose -really I ought to receive him in the Throne Room, but that's -so—so——" -

- -

-"Stuffy," said Wiggs. -

- -

-"That's just it. We should feel uncomfortable with each other the -whole time. I think I shall receive him up here; I never feel so -nervous in the open air." -

- -

-"Will the Countess be here?" asked Wiggs. -

- -

-"No," said the Princess coldly. "At least," she corrected herself, -"she will not be invited. Good afternoon, Countess." It was like -her, thought Hyacinth, to arrive at that very moment. -

- -

-Belvane curtsied low. -

- -

-"Good afternoon, your Royal Highness. I am here purely on a matter of -business. I thought it my duty to inform your Royal Highness of the -result of the Literature prize." She spoke meekly, and as one who -forgave Hyacinth for her unkindness towards her. -

- -

-"Certainly, Countess. I shall be glad to hear." -

- -

-The Countess unrolled a parchment. -

- -

-"The prize has been won," she said, "by——" she held the parchment a -little closer to her eyes, "by Charlotte Patacake." -

- -

-"Oh, yes. Who is she?" -

- -

-"A most deserving woman, your Royal Highness. If she is the woman I'm -thinking of, a most deserving person, to whom the money will be more -than welcome. Her poem shows a sense of values combined -with—er—breadth, and—er—distance, such as I have seldom seen -equalled. The—er—technique is only excelled by the—shall I -say?—tempermentality, the boldness of the colouring, by the—how -shall I put it?—the firmness of the outline. In short——" -

- -

-"In short," said the Princess, "you like it." -

- -

-"Your Royal Highness, it is unique. But naturally you will wish to -hear it for yourself. It is only some twelve hundred lines long. I -will declaim it to your Royal Highness." -

- -

-She held the manuscript out at the full length of her left arm, struck -an attitude with the right arm, and began in her most thrilling voice: -

- -

- "King Merriwig the First rode out to war,
-  As many other kings——"
-

- -

-"Yes, Countess, but another time. I am busy this afternoon. As you -know, I think, the Prince Udo of Araby arrives to-morrow, and——" -

- -

-Belvane's lips were still moving, and her right arm swayed up and -down. "What gladsome cheers assailed the balmy air!" she murmured -to herself, and her hand when up to heaven. "They come from north, -from south" (she pointed in the directions mentioned), "from -everywhere. No wight that stood——" -

- -

-"He will be received privately up here by myself in the first place, -and afterwards——" -

- -

-"Could gaze upon the sight unmoved, I wot," whispered Belvane, and -placed her hand upon her breast to show that anyhow it had been too -much for her. "Why do they march so—— I beg your Royal -Highness's pardon. I was so carried away by this wonderful poem. I -do beg of your Royal Highness to read it." -

- -

-The Princess waved the manuscript aside. -

- -

-"I am not unmindful of the claims of literature, Countess, and I shall -certainly read the poem another time. Meanwhile I can, I hope, trust -you to see that the prize is awarded to the rightful winner. What I -am telling you now is that the Prince Udo is arriving to-morrow." -

- -

-Belvane looked innocently puzzled. -

- -

-"Prince Udo—Udo—would that be Prince Udo of Carroway, your Royal -Highness? A tall man with three legs?" -

- -

-"Prince Udo of Araby," said Hyacinth severely. "I think I have -already mentioned him to your ladyship. He will make a stay of some -months." -

- -

-"But how delightful, your Royal Highness, to see a man again! We -were all getting so dull together! We want a man to wake us up a -little, don't we, Wiggs? I will go and give orders about his room at -once, your Royal Highness. You will wish him to be in the Purple -Room, of course?" -

- -

-That settled it. -

- -

-"He will be in the Blue Room," said Hyacinth decidedly. -

- -

-"Certainly, your Royal Highness. Fancy, Wiggs, a man again! I will -go and see about it now, if I may have your Royal Highness's leave to -withdraw?" -

- -

-A little mystified by Belvane's manner, Hyacinth inclined her head, -and the Countess withdrew. -

- -

-

- -

-

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Udo as an animal] + +

Man, elevating himself to the rank of the Titans, acquires his culture + +by his own efforts, and compels the gods to unite with him, because + +in his self-sufficient wisdom he has their existence and their limits + +in his hand. What is most wonderful, however, in this Promethean + +form, which according to its fundamental conception is the specific + +hymn of impiety, is the profound Æschylean yearning for justice: + +the untold sorrow of the bold "single-handed being" on the one hand, + +and the divine need, ay, the foreboding of a twilight of the gods, on + +the other, the power of these two worlds of suffering constraining + +to reconciliation, to metaphysical oneness—all this suggests most + +forcibly the central and main position of the Æschylean[Pg 77] view of + +things, which sees Moira as eternal justice enthroned above gods and + +men. In view of the astonishing boldness with which Æschylus places the + +Olympian world on his scales of justice, it must be remembered that + +the deep-minded Greek had an immovably firm substratum of metaphysical + +thought in his mysteries, and that all his sceptical paroxysms could + +be discharged upon the Olympians. With reference to these deities, + +the Greek artist, in particular, had an obscure feeling as to mutual + +dependency: and it is just in the Prometheus of Æschylus that this + +feeling is symbolised. The Titanic artist found in himself the + +daring belief that he could create men and at least destroy Olympian + +deities: namely, by his superior wisdom, for which, to be sure, he had + +to atone by eternal suffering. The splendid "can-ing" of the great + +genius, bought too cheaply even at the price of eternal suffering, + +the stern pride of the artist: this is the essence and soul of + +Æschylean poetry, while Sophocles in his Œdipus preludingly strikes up + +the victory-song of the saint. But even this interpretation which + +Æschylus has given to the myth does not fathom its astounding depth of + +terror; the fact is rather that the artist's delight in unfolding, the + +cheerfulness of artistic creating bidding defiance to all calamity, + +is but a shining stellar and nebular image reflected in a black sea + +of sadness. The tale of Prometheus is an original possession of the + +entire Aryan family of races, and documentary evidence of their + +capacity for the profoundly tragic; indeed, it is not improbable that + +this myth has the same characteristic significance[Pg 78] for the Aryan + +race that the myth of the fall of man has for the Semitic, and that + +there is a relationship between the two myths like that of brother and + +sister. The presupposition of the Promethean myth is the transcendent + +value which a naïve humanity attach to fire as the true palladium + +of every ascending culture: that man, however, should dispose at will + +of this fire, and should not receive it only as a gift from heaven, + +as the igniting lightning or the warming solar flame, appeared to the + +contemplative primordial men as crime and robbery of the divine nature. + +And thus the first philosophical problem at once causes a painful, + +irreconcilable antagonism between man and God, and puts as it were + +a mass of rock at the gate of every culture. The best and highest + +that men can acquire they obtain by a crime, and must now in their + +turn take upon themselves its consequences, namely the whole flood of + +sufferings and sorrows with which the offended celestials must visit + +the nobly aspiring race of man: a bitter reflection, which, by the + +dignity it confers on crime, contrasts strangely with the Semitic + +myth of the fall of man, in which curiosity, beguilement, seducibility, + +wantonness,—in short, a whole series of pre-eminently feminine + +passions,—were regarded as the origin of evil. What distinguishes + +the Aryan representation is the sublime view of active sin as the + +properly Promethean virtue, which suggests at the same time the ethical + +basis of pessimistic tragedy as the justification of human evil—of + +human guilt as well as of the suffering incurred thereby. The misery in + +the essence of things—which[Pg 79] the contemplative Aryan is not disposed + +to explain away—the antagonism in the heart of the world, manifests + +itself to him as a medley of different worlds, for instance, a Divine + +and a human world, each of which is in the right individually, but + +as a separate existence alongside of another has to suffer for its + +individuation. With the heroic effort made by the individual for + +universality, in his attempt to pass beyond the bounds of individuation + +and become the one universal being, he experiences in himself the + +primordial contradiction concealed in the essence of things, i.e., + +he trespasses and suffers. Accordingly crime[11] is understood by + +the Aryans to be a man, sin[12] by the Semites a woman; as also, the + +original crime is committed by man, the original sin by woman. Besides, + +the witches' chorus says:

+ + + +

+ +"Wir nehmen das nicht so genau:
+ +Mit tausend Schritten macht's die Frau;
+ +Doch wie sie auch sich eilen kann
+ +Mit einem Sprunge macht's der Mann."[13]
+

-

-CHAPTER XI -

- -

-WATERCRESS SEEMS TO GO WITH THE EARS -

- -

-Wiggs gave a parting pat to the tablecloth and stood looking at it -with her head on one side. -

- -

-"Now, then," she said, "have we got everything?" -

- -

-"What about sardines?" said Woggs in her common way. (I don't know -what she's doing in this scene at all, but Roger Scurvilegs insists on -it.) -

- -

-"I don't think a Prince would like sardines," said Wiggs. -

- -

-"If I'd been on a long journey, I'd love sardines. It is a very -long journey from Araby, isn't it?" -

- -

-"Awful long. Why, it's taken him nearly a week. Perhaps," she added -hopefully, "he's had something on the way." -

- -

-"Perhaps he took some sandwiches with him," said Woggs, thinking that -this would be a good thing to do. -

- -

-"What do you think he'll be like, Woggs?" -

- -

-Woggs though for a long time. -

- -

-"Like the King," she said. "Only different," she added, as an -afterthought. -

- -

-Up came the Princess for the fifth time that afternoon, all -excitement. -

- -

-"Well," she said, "is everything ready?" -

- -

-"Yes, your Royal Highness. Except Woggs and me didn't quite know -about sardines." -

- -

-The Princess laughed happily. -

- -

-"I think there will be enough there for him. It all looks very nice." -

- -

-She turned round and discovered behind her the last person she wanted -to see just then. -

- -

-The-last-person-she-wanted-to-see-just-then curtsied effectively. -

- -

-"Forgive me, your Royal Highness," she said profusely, "but I thought -I had left Charlotte Patacake's priceless manuscript up here. No; -evidently I was mistaken, your Royal Highness. I will withdraw, your -Royal Highness, as I know your Royal Highness would naturally wish to -receive his Royal Highness alone." -

- -

-Listening to this speech one is impressed with Woggs' method of -calling everybody "Mum." -

- -

-"Not at all, Countess," said Hyacinth coldly. "We would prefer you to -stay and help us receive his Royal Highness. He is a little late, I -think." -

- -

-Belvane looked unspeakably distressed. -

- -

-"Oh, I do hope that nothing has happened to him on the way," she -exclaimed. "I've an uneasy feeling that something may have occurred." -

- -

- -[Illustration: Princess Hyacinth gave a shriek and faltered slowly backwards, verso] -[Illustration: Princess Hyacinth gave a shriek and faltered slowly backwards, recto] -

- -

-"What could have happened to him?" asked Hyacinth, not apparently very -much alarmed. -

- -

-"Oh, your Royal Highness, it's just a sort of silly feeling of mine. -There may be nothing in it." -

- -

-There was a noise of footsteps from below; a man's voice was heard. -The Princess and the Countess, both extremely nervous, but from -entirely different reasons, arranged suitable smiles of greeting upon -their faces; Wiggs and Woggs stood in attitudes of appropriate -meekness by the table. The Court Painter could have made a beautiful -picture of it. -

- -

-"His Royal Highness Prince Udo of Araby," announced the voice of an -attendant. -

- -

-"A nervous moment," said Belvane to herself. "Can the ring have -failed to act?" -

- -

-Udo trotted in. -

- -

-"It hasn't," said Belvane. -

- -

-Princess Hyacinth gave a shriek, and faltered slowly backwards; Wiggs, -who was familiar with these little accidents in the books which she -dusted, and Woggs, who had a natural love for any kind of animal, -stood their ground. -

- -

-"Whatever is it?" murmured Hyacinth. -

- -

-It was as well that Belvane was there. -

- -

-"Allow me to present to your Royal Highness," she said, stepping -forward, "his Royal Highness Prince Udo of Araby." -

- -

-"Prince Udo?" said Hyacinth, all unwilling to believe it. -

- -

-"I'm afraid so," said Udo gloomily. He had thought over this meeting -a good deal in the last two or three days, and he realised now that he -had underestimated the difficulties of it. -

- -

-Hyacinth remembered that she was a Princess and a woman. -

- -

-"I'm delighted to welcome your Royal Highness to Euralia," she said. -"Won't you sit down—I mean up—er, down." (How did rabbits sit? -Or whatever he was?) -

- -

-Udo decided to sit up. -

- -

-"Thank you. You've no idea how difficult it is to talk on four legs -to somebody higher up. It strains the neck so." -

- -

-There was an awkward silence. Nobody quite knew what to say. -

- -

-Except Belvane. -

- -

-She turned to Udo with her most charming smile. "Did you have a -pleasant journey?" she asked sweetly. -

- -

-"No," said Udo coldly. -

- -

-"Oh, do tell us what happened to you?" cried Hyacinth. "Did you meet -some terrible enchanter on the way? Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry." -

- -

-When one is not feeling very well there is a certain type of question -which is always annoying. -

- -

-"Can't you see what's happened to me?" said Udo crossly. "I don't -know how it happened. I had come two days' journey from Araby, -when——" -

- -

-"Please, your Royal Highness," said Wiggs, "is this your tail in the -salt?" She took it out, gave it a shake, and handed it back to him. -

- -

-"Oh, thank you, thank you—two days' journey from Araby when I woke up -one afternoon and found myself like this. I ask you to imagine my -annoyance. My first thought naturally was to return home and hide -myself; but I told myself, Princess, that you wanted me." -

- -

-The Princess could not help being touched by this, said as it was with -a graceful movement of the ears and a caressing of the right whisker, -but she wondered a little what she would do with him now that she had -got him. -

- -

-"Er—what are you?" put in Belvane kindly, knowing how men are -always glad to talk about themselves. -

- -

-Udo had caught sight of a well-covered table, and was looking at it -with a curious mixture of hope and resignation. -

- -

-"Very, very hungry," he said, speaking with the air of one who knows. -

- -

-The Princess, whose mind had been travelling, woke up suddenly. -

- -

-"Oh, I was forgetting my manners," she said with a smile for which the -greediest would have forgiven her. "Let us sit down and refresh -ourselves. May I present to your Royal Highness the Countess -Belvane." -

- -

-"Do I shake hands or pat him?" murmured that mistress of Court -etiquette, for once at a loss. -

- -

-Udo placed a paw over his heart and bowed profoundly. -

- -

-"Charmed," he said gallantly, and coming from a cross between a lion, -a rabbit, and a woolly lamb the merest suggestion of gallantry has a -most pleasing effect. -

- -

-They grouped themselves round the repast. -

- -

-"A little sherbet, your Royal Highness?" said Hyacinth, who presided -over the bowl. -

- -

-Udo was evidently longing to say yes, but hesitated. -

- -

-"I wonder if I dare." -

- -

-"It's very good sherbet," said Wiggs, to encourage him. -

- -

-"I'm sure it is, my dear. But the question is, Do I like sherbet?" -

- -

-"You can't help knowing if you like sherbet." -

- -

-"Don't bother him, Wiggs," said Hyacinth, "a venison sandwich, dear -Prince?" -

- -

-"The question is, Do I like venison sandwiches?" -

- -

-"I do," announced Woggs to any one who was interested. -

- -

-"You see," explained Udo, "I really don't know what I like." -

- -

-They were all surprised at this, particularly Woggs. Belvane, who was -enjoying herself too much to wish to do anything but listen, said -nothing, and it was the Princess who obliged Udo by asking him what he -meant. It was a subject upon which he was longing to let himself go -to somebody. -

- -

-"Well," he said, expanding himself a little, so that Wiggs had to -remove his tail this time from the custard, "what am I?" -

- -

-Nobody ventured to offer an opinion. -

- -

-"Am I a hare? Then put me next to the red currant jelly, or whatever -it is that hares like." -

- -

-The anxious eye of the hostess wandered over the table. -

- -

-"Am I a lion?" went on Udo, developing his theme. "Then pass me -Wiggs." -

- -

-"Oh, please don't be a lion," said Wiggs gently, as she stroked his -mane. -

- -

-"But haven't you a feeling for anything?" asked Hyacinth. -

- -

-"I have a great feeling of emptiness. I yearn for something, only I -don't quite know what." -

- -

-"I hope it isn't sardines," whispered Wiggs to Woggs. -

- -

-"But what have you been eating on the way?" asked the Princess. -

- -

-"Oh, grass and things chiefly. I thought I should be safe with -grass." -

- -

-"And were you—er—safe?" asked Belvane, with a great show of anxiety. -

- -

-Udo coughed and said nothing. -

- -

-"I know it's silly of me," said Hyacinth, "but I still don't quite -understand. I should have thought that if you were a—a——" -

- -

-"Quite so," said Udo. -

- -

-"—then you would have known by instinct what a—a——" -

- -

-"Exactly," said Udo. -

- -

-"Likes to eat." -

- -

-"Ah, I thought you'd think that. That's just what I thought when -this—when I began to feel unwell. But I've worked it out since, and -it's all wrong." -

- -

-"This is interesting," said Belvane, settling herself more -comfortably. "Do go on." -

- -

-"Well, when——" He coughed and looked round at them coyly. "This is -really rather a delicate subject." -

- -

-"Not at all," murmured Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Well, it's like this. When an enchanter wants to annoy you he -generally turns you into an animal of some kind." -

- -

-Belvane achieved her first blush since she was seventeen. -

- -

-"It is a humorous way they have," she said. -

- -

-"But suppose you really were an animal altogether, it wouldn't annoy -you at all. An elephant isn't annoyed at being an elephant; he just -tries to be a good elephant, and he'd be miserable if he couldn't do -things with his trunk. The annoying thing is to look like an elephant, -to have the very complicated—er—inside of an elephant, and yet all -the time really to be a man." -

- -

-They were all intensely interested. Woggs thought that it was going -to lead up to a revelation of what sort of animal Prince Udo really -was, but in this she was destined to be disappointed. After all there -were advantages in Udo's present position. As a man he had never been -listened to so attentively. -

- -

-"Now suppose for a moment I am a lion. I have the—er—delicate -apparatus of a lion, but the beautiful thoughts and aspirations of a -Prince. Thus there is one—er—side of me which craves for raw beef, -but none the less there is a higher side of me" (he brought his paw up -towards his heart), "which—well, you know how you'd feel about it -yourself." -

- -

-The Princess shuddered. -

- -

-"I should," she said, with conviction. -

- -

-Belvane was interested, but thought it all a little crude. -

- -

-"You see the point," went on Udo. "A baby left to itself doesn't know -what is good for it. Left to itself it would eat anything. Now turn -a man suddenly into an animal and he is in exactly the same state as -that baby." -

- -

-"I hadn't thought of it like that," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-"I've had to think of it! Now let us proceed further with the -matter." Udo was thoroughly enjoying himself. He had not had such a -time since he had given an address on Beetles to all the leading -citizens of Araby at his coming-of-age. "Suppose again that I am a -lion. I know from what I have read or seen that raw meat agrees best -with the lion's—er—organisation, and however objectionable it might -look I should be foolish not to turn to it for sustenance. But if you -don't quite know what animal you're supposed to be, see how difficult -the problem becomes. It's a question of trying all sorts of horrible -things in order to find out what agrees with you." His eyes took on a -faraway look, a look in which the most poignant memories seem to be -reflected. "I've been experimenting," he said, "for the last three -days." -

- -

-They all gazed sadly and sympathetically at him. Except Belvane. She -of course wouldn't. -

- -

-"What went best?" she asked brightly. -

- -

-"Oddly enough," said Udo, cheering up a little, "banana fritters. -Have you ever kept any animal who lived entirely on banana fritters?" -

- -

-"Never," smiled the Princess. -

- -

-"Well, that's the animal I probably am." He sighed and added, "There -were one or two animals I wasn't." For a little while he seemed to be -revolving bitter memories, and then went on, "I don't suppose any of -you here have any idea how very prickly thistles are when they are -going down. Er—may I try a watercress sandwich? It doesn't suit the -tail, but it seems to go with the ears." He took a large bite and -added through the leaves, "I hope I don't bore you, Princess, with my -little troubles." -

- -

-Hyacinth clasped his paw impulsively. -

- -

-"My dear Prince Udo, I'm only longing to help. We must think of some -way of getting this horrible enchantment off you. There are so many -wise books in the library, and my father has composed a spell -which—oh, I'm sure we shall soon have you all right again." -

- -

-Udo took another sandwich. -

- -

-"Very good of you, Princess, to say so. You understand how annoying a -little indisposition of this kind is to a man of my temperament." He -beckoned to Wiggs. "How do you make these?" he asked in an undertone. -

- -

-Gracefully undulating, Belvane rose from her seat. -

- -

-"Well," she said, "I must go and see that the stable——" she broke -off in a pretty confusion—"How silly of me, I mean the Royal -Apartment is prepared. Have I your Royal Highness's leave to -withdraw?" -

- -

-She had. -

- -

-"And, Wiggs, dear, you too had better run along and see if you can -help. You may leave the watercress sandwiches," she added, as Wiggs -hesitated for a moment. -

- -

-With a grateful look at her Royal Highness Udo helped himself to -another one. -

- -

-

- -

-

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of a child with a very large boot] + + +

He who understands this innermost core of the tale of + +Prometheus—namely the necessity of crime imposed on the titanically + +striving individual—will at once be conscious of the un-Apollonian + +nature of this pessimistic representation: for Apollo seeks to pacify + +individual beings precisely by drawing[Pg 80] boundary lines between them, + +and by again and again calling attention thereto, with his requirements + +of self-knowledge and due proportion, as the holiest laws of the + +universe. In order, however, to prevent the form from congealing to + +Egyptian rigidity and coldness in consequence of this Apollonian + +tendency, in order to prevent the extinction of the motion of the + +entire lake in the effort to prescribe to the individual wave its path + +and compass, the high tide of the Dionysian tendency destroyed from + +time to time all the little circles in which the one-sided Apollonian + +"will" sought to confine the Hellenic world. The suddenly swelling + +tide of the Dionysian then takes the separate little wave-mountains of + +individuals on its back, just as the brother of Prometheus, the Titan + +Atlas, does with the earth. This Titanic impulse, to become as it were + +the Atlas of all individuals, and to carry them on broad shoulders + +higher and higher, farther and farther, is what the Promethean and the + +Dionysian have in common. In this respect the Æschylean Prometheus is + +a Dionysian mask, while, in the afore-mentioned profound yearning for + +justice, Æschylus betrays to the intelligent observer his paternal + +descent from Apollo, the god of individuation and of the boundaries + +of justice. And so the double-being of the Æschylean Prometheus, his + +conjoint Dionysian and Apollonian nature, might be thus expressed in + +an abstract formula: "Whatever exists is alike just and unjust, and + +equally justified in both."

+ + + +

+ +Das ist deine Welt! Das heisst eine Welt![14]
+

-

-CHAPTER XII -

-

-WE DECIDE TO WRITE TO UDO'S FATHER -

-

-"Now, my dear Princess," said Udo, as soon as they were alone. "Let -me know in what way I can help you." -

-

-"Oh, Prince Udo," said Hyacinth earnestly, "it is so good of you to -have come. I feel that this—this little accident is really my fault -for having asked you here." -

-

-"Not at all, dear lady. It is the sort of little accident that might -have happened to anybody, anywhere. If I can still be of assistance -to you, pray inform me. Though my physical powers may not for the -moment be quite what they were, I flatter myself that my mental -capabilities are in no way diminished." He took another bite of his -sandwich and wagged his head wisely at her. -

+
-

-"Let's come over here," said Hyacinth. -

-

-She moved across to an old stone seat in the wall, Udo following with -the plate, and made room for him by her side. There is, of course, a -way of indicating to a gentleman that he may sit next to you on the -Chesterfield, and tell you what he has been doing in town lately, and -there is also another way of patting the sofa for Fido to jump up and -be-a-good-dog-and-lie-down-sir. Hyacinth achieved something very -tactful in between, and Udo jumped up gracefully. -

-

-"Now we can talk," said Hyacinth. "You noticed that lady, the -Countess Belvane, whom I presented to you?" -

+

[10] -

-Udo nodded. -

- -

-"What did you think of her?" -

- -

-Udo was old enough to know what to say to that. -

- -

-"I hardly looked at her," he said. And he added with a deep bow, -"Naturally when your Royal Highness—oh, I beg your pardon, are my -ears in your way?" -

- -

-"It's all right," said Hyacinth, rearranging her hair. "Well, it was -because of that woman that I sent for you." -

- -

-"But I can't marry her like this, your Royal Highness." -

- -

-Hyacinth turned a startled face towards him. Udo perceived that he -had blundered. To hide his confusion he took another sandwich and ate -it very quickly. -

- -

-"I want your help against her," said Hyacinth, a little distantly; -"she is plotting against me." -

- -

-"Oh, your Royal Highness, now I see," said Udo, and he wagged his head -as much as to say, "You've come to the right man this time." -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"I don't trust her," said Hyacinth impressively. -

- -

-"Well, now, Princess, I'm not surprised. I'll tell you something -about that woman." -

- -

-"Oh, what?" -

- -

-"Well, when I was announced just now, what happened? You, yourself, -Princess, were not unnaturally a little alarmed; those two little -girls were surprised and excited; but what of this Countess Belvane? -What did she do?" -

- -

-"What did she do?" -

- -

-"Nothing," said Udo impressively. "She was neither surprised nor -alarmed." -

- -

-"Why, now I come to think of it, I don't believe she was." -

- -

-"And yet," said Udo half pathetically, half proudly, "Princes don't -generally look like this. Now, why wasn't she surprised?" -

- -

-Hyacinth looked bewildered. -

- -

-"Did she know you were sending for me?" Udo went on. -

- -

-"Yes." -

- -

-"Because you had found out something about her?" -

- -

-"Yes." -

- -

-"Then depend upon it, she's done it. What a mind that woman must -have!" -

- -

-"But how could she do it?" exclaimed Hyacinth. "Of course it's just -the sort of thing she would do if she could." -

- -

-Udo didn't answer. He was feeling rather annoyed with Belvane, and -had got off his seat and was trotting up and down so as not to show -his feelings before a lady. -

- -

-"How could she do it?" implored Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Oh, she's in with some enchanter or somebody," said Udo impatiently -as he trotted past. -

- -

-Suddenly he had an idea. He stopped in front of her. -

- -

-"If only I were sure I was a lion." -

- -

-He tried to roar, exclaimed hastily that it was only a practice one, -and roared again. "No, I don't think I'm a lion after all," he -admitted sadly. -

- -

-"Well," said Hyacinth, "we must think of a plan." -

- -

-"We must think of a plan," said Udo, and he came and sat meekly beside -her again. He could conceal it from himself no longer that he was not -a lion. The fact depressed him. -

- -

-"I suppose I have been weak," went on Hyacinth, "but ever since the -men went away she has been the ruling spirit of the country. I think -she is plotting against me; I know she is robbing me. I asked you -here so that you could help me to find her out." -

- -

-Udo nodded his head importantly. -

- -

-"We must watch her," he announced. -

- -

-"We must watch her," agreed Hyacinth. "It may take months——" -

- -

-"Did you say months?" said Udo, turning to her excitedly. -

- -

-"Yes, why?" -

- -

-"Well, it's——" he gave a deprecating little cough. "I know it's -very silly of me but—oh, well, let's hope it will be all right." -

- -

-"Why, whatever is the matter?" -

- -

-Udo was decidedly embarrassed. He wriggled. He drew little circles -with his hind paw on the ground and he shot little coy glances at her. -

- -

-"Well, I"—and he gave a little nervous giggle—"I have a sort of -uneasy feeling that I may be one of those animals"—he gave another -conscious little laugh—"that have to go to sleep all through the -winter. It would be very annoying—if I"—his paw became very busy -here—"if I had to dig a little hole in the ground, just when the plot -was thickening." -

- -

-"Oh, but you won't," said Hyacinth, in distress. -

- -

-They were both silent for a moment, thinking of the awful -possibilities. Udo's tail had fallen across Hyacinth's lap, and she -began to play with it absently. -

- -

-"Anyway," she said hopefully, "it's only July now." -

- -

-"Ye—es," said Udo. "I suppose I should get—er—busy about November. -We ought to find out something before then. First of all we'd -better—— Oh!" He started up in dismay. "I've just had a -horrible thought. Don't I have to collect a little store of nuts -and things?" -

- -

-"Surely——" -

- -

-"I should have to start that pretty soon," said Udo thoughtfully. -"You know, I shouldn't be very handy at it. Climbing about after -nuts," he went on dreamily, "what a life for a——" -

- -

-"Oh, don't!" pleaded Hyacinth. "Surely only squirrels do that?" -

- -

-"Yes—yes. Now, if I were a squirrel. I should—may I have my tail -for a moment?" -

- -

-"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Hyacinth, very much confused as she realised -the liberty she had been taking, and she handed his tail back to him. -

- -

-"Not at all," said Udo. -

- -

-He took it firmly in his right hand. "Now then," he said, "we shall -see. Watch this." -

- -

-Sitting on his back legs he arched his tail over his head, and letting -go of it suddenly, began to nibble at a sandwich held in his two front -paws. . . . -

- -

-A pretty picture for an artist. -

- -

-But a bad model. The tail fell with a thud to the ground. -

- -

-"There!" said Udo triumphantly. "That proves it. I'm not a -squirrel." -

- -

-"Oh, I'm so glad," said Hyacinth, completely convinced, as any one -would have been, by this demonstration. -

- -

-"Yes, well, that's all right then. Now we can make our plans. First -of all we'd better——" He stopped suddenly, and Hyacinth saw that he -was gazing at his tail. -

- -

-"Yes?" she said encouragingly. -

- -

-He picked up his tail and held it out in front of him. There was a -large knot in the middle of it. -

- -

-"Now, what have I forgotten?" he said, rubbing his head -thoughtfully. -

- -

-Poor Hyacinth! -

- -

-"Oh, dear Prince Udo, I'm so sorry. I'm afraid I did that without -thinking." -

- -

-Udo, the gallant gentleman, was not found wanting. -

- -

-"A lover's knot," he said, with a graceful incli—no, he stopped in -time. But really, those ears of his made ordinary politeness quite -impossible. -

- -

-"Oh, Udo," said Hyacinth impulsively, "if only I could help you to get -back to your proper form again." -

- -

-"Yes, if only," said Udo, becoming practical again; "but how are we -going to do it? Just one more watercress sandwich," he said -apologetically; "they go with the ears so well." -

- -

-"I shall threaten the Countess," said Hyacinth excitedly. "I shall -tell her that unless she makes the enchanter restore you to your -proper form, I shall put her in prison." -

- -

-Udo was not listening. He had gone off into his own thoughts. -"Banana fritters and watercress sandwiches," he was murmuring to -himself. "I suppose I must be the only animal of the kind in the -world." -

- -

-"Of course," went on Hyacinth, half to herself, "she might get the -people on her side, the ones that she's bribed. And if she did——" -

- -

-"That's all right, that's all right," said Udo grandly. "Leave her to -me. There's something about your watercress that inspires me to do -terrible deeds. I feel a new—whatever I am." -

- -

-One gathers reluctantly from this speech that Udo had partaken too -freely. -

- -

-"Of course," said Hyacinth, "I could write to my father, who might -send some of his men back, but I shouldn't like to do that. I -shouldn't like him to think that I had failed him." -

- -

-"Extraordinary how I take to these things," said Udo, allowing himself -a little more room on the seat. "Perhaps I am a rabbit after all. I -wonder what I should look like behind wire netting." He took another -bite and went on, "I wonder what I should do if I saw a ferret. I -suppose you haven't got a ferret on you, Princess?" -

- -

-"I beg your pardon, Prince? I'm afraid I was thinking of something -else. What did you say?" -

- -

-"Nothing, nothing. One's thoughts run on." He put his hand out for -the plate, and discovered that it was empty. He settled himself more -comfortably, and seemed to be about to sink into slumber when his -attention was attracted suddenly by the knot in his tail. He picked -it up and began lazily to undo it. "I wish I could lash my tail," he -murmured; "mine seems to be one of the tails that don't lash." He -began very gingerly to feel the tip of it. "I wonder if I've got a -sting anywhere." He closed his eyes, muttering, "Sting Countess neck, -sting all over neck, sting lots stings," and fell peacefully asleep. -

- -

-It was a disgraceful exhibition. Roger Scurvilegs tries to slur it -over; talks about the great heat of the sun, and the notorious effect -of even one or two watercress sandwiches on an empty—on a man who has -had nothing to eat for several days. This is to palter with the -facts. The effect of watercress sandwiches upon Udo's arrangements -(however furnished) we have all just seen for ourselves; but what -Roger neglects to lay stress upon is the fact that it was the effect -of twenty-one or twenty-two watercress sandwiches. There is no -denying that it was a disgraceful exhibition. If I had been there, I -should certainly have written to his father about it. -

- -

-Hyacinth looked at him uneasily. Her first feeling was one of -sympathy. "Poor fellow," she thought, "he's had a hard time lately." -But it is a strain on the sympathy to gaze too long on a mixture of -lion, rabbit, and woolly lamb, particularly when the rabbit part has -its mouth open and is snoring gently. -

- -

-Besides, what could she do with him? She had two of them on her hands -now: the Countess and the Prince. Belvane was in an even better -position than before. She could now employ Udo to help her in her -plots against the Princess. "Grant to me so and so, or I'll keep the -enchantment for ever on his Royal Highness." And what could a poor -girl do? -

- -

-Well, she would have to come to some decision in the future. -Meanwhile the difficulties of the moment were enough. The most -obvious difficulty was his bedroom. Was it quite the sort of room he -wanted now? Hyacinth realised suddenly that to be hostess to such a -collection of animals as Udo was would require all the tact she -possessed. Perhaps he would tell her what he wanted when he woke up. -Better let him sleep peacefully now. -

- -

-She looked at him, smiled in spite of herself, and went quickly down -into the Palace. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Belvane with castle in the background]

-

-CHAPTER XIII -

+

-

-"PINK" RHYMES WITH "THINK" -

+"Here sit I, forming mankind
-

-Udo awoke, slightly refreshed, and decided to take a firm line with -the Countess at once. He had no difficulty about finding his way down -to her. The Palace seemed to be full of servants, all apparently busy -about something which brought them for a moment in sight of the newly -arrived Prince, and then whisked them off, hand to mouth and shoulders -shaking. By one of these, with more control over her countenance than -the others, an annoyed Udo was led into Belvane's garden. -

+In my image,
-

-She was walking up and down the flagged walk between her lavender -hedges, and as he came in she stopped and rested her elbows on her -sundial, and looked mockingly at him, waiting for him to speak. -"Between the showers I mark the hours," said the sundial (on the -suggestion of Belvane one wet afternoon), but for the moment the -Countess was in the way. -

+A race resembling me,—
-

-"Ah, here we are," said Udo in rather a nasty voice. -

+To sorrow and to weep,
-

-"Here we are," said Belvane sweetly. "All of us." -

+To taste, to hold, to enjoy,
-

-Suddenly she began to laugh. -

+And not have need of thee,
-

-"Oh, Prince Udo," she said, "you'll be the death of me. Count me as -one more of your victims." -

+As I!"
-

-It is easy to be angry with any one who will laugh at you all the -time, but difficult to be effective; particularly when—but we need -not dwell upon Udo's handicap again. -

+(Translation in Hæckel's History of the Evolution of Man.)

-

-"I don't see anything to laugh at," he said stiffly. "To intelligent -people the outside appearance is not everything." -

-

-"But it can be very funny, can't it?" said Belvane coaxingly. "I -wished for something humorous to happen to you, but I never -thought——" -

-

-"Ah," said Udo, "now we've got it." -

+
-

-He spoke with an air of a clever cross-examiner who has skilfully -extracted an admission from a reluctant witness. This sort of tone -goes best with one of those keen legal faces; perhaps that is why -Belvane laughed again. -

-

-"You practically confess that you did it," went on Udo magnificently. -

-

-"Did what?" -

+

[11] Der Frevel.

-

-"Turned me into a—a——" -

-

-"A rabbit?" said Belvane innocently. -

-

-A foolish observation like this always pained Udo. -

+
-

-"What makes you think I'm a rabbit?" he asked. -

-

-"I don't mind what you are, but you'll never dare show yourself in the -country like this." -

-

-"Be careful, woman; don't drive me too far. Beware lest you rouse the -lion in me." -

+

[12] Die Sünde.

-

-"Where?" asked Belvane, with a child-like air. -

-

-With a gesture full of dignity and good breeding Udo called attention -to his tail. -

-

-"That," said the Countess, "is not the part of the lion that I'm -afraid of." -

+
-

-For the moment Udo was nonplussed, but he soon recovered himself. -

-

-"Even supposing—just for the sake of argument—that I am a rabbit, I -still have something up my sleeve; I'll come and eat your young -carnations." -

-

-Belvane adored her garden, but she was sustained by the thought that -it was only July just now. She pointed this out to him. -

+

[13] -

-"It needn't necessarily be carnations," he warned her. -

- -

-"I don't want to put my opinion against one who has (forgive me) -inside knowledge on the subject, but I think I have nothing in my -garden at this moment that would agree with a rabbit." -

- -

-"I don't mind if it doesn't agree with me," said Udo heroically. -

- -

-This was more serious. Her dear garden in which she composed, ruined -by the mastications—machinations—what was the word?—of an enemy! -The thought was unbearable. -

- -

-"You aren't a rabbit," she said hastily; "you aren't really a rabbit. -Because—because you don't woffle your nose properly." -

- -

-"I could," said Udo simply. "I'm just keeping it back, that's all." -

- -

-"Show me how," cried Belvane, clasping her hands eagerly together. -

- -

-It was not what he had come into the garden for, and it accorded ill -with the dignity of the Royal House of Araby, but somehow one got led -on by this wicked woman. -

- -

-"Like this," said Udo. -

- -

-The Countess looked at him critically with her head on one side. -

- -

-"No," she said, "that's quite wrong." -

- -

-"Naturally I'm a little out of practice." -

- -

-"I'm sorry," said Belvane. "I'm afraid I can't pass you." -

- -

-Udo couldn't think what had happened to the conversation. With a -great effort he extracted himself from it. -

- -

-"Enough of this, Countess," he said sternly. "I have your admission -that it was you who put this enchantment on me." -

- -

-"It was I. I wasn't going to have you here interfering with my -plans." -

- -

-"Your plans to rob the Princess." -

- -

-Belvane felt that it was useless to explain the principles of -largesse-throwing to Udo. There will always be men like Udo and Roger -Scurvilegs who take these narrow matter-of-fact views. One merely -wastes time in arguing with them. -

- -

-"My plans," she repeated. -

- -

-"Very well. I shall go straight to the Princess, and she will unmask -you before the people." -

- -

-Belvane smiled happily. One does not often get such a chance. -

- -

-"And who," she asked sweetly, "will unmask your Royal Highness before -the people, so that they may see the true Prince Udo underneath?" -

- -

-"What do you mean?" said Udo, though he was beginning to guess. -

- -

-"That noble handsome countenance which is so justly the pride of -Araby—how shall we show that to the people? They'll form such a -mistaken idea of it if they all see you like this, won't they?" -

- -

-Udo was quite sure now that he understood. Hyacinth had understood at -the very beginning. -

- -

- -[Illustration: He forgot his manners, and made a jump towards her] - -[Illustration: She glided gracefully behind the sundial in a pretty affectation of alarm] -

- -

-"You mean that if the Princess Hyacinth falls in with your plans, you -will restore me to my proper form, but that otherwise you will leave -me like this?" -

- -

-"One's actions are very much misunderstood," sighed Belvane. "I've no -doubt that that is how it will appear to future historians." -

- -

-(To Roger, certainly.) -

- -

-It was too much for Udo. He forgot his manners and made a jump -towards her. She glided gracefully behind the sundial in a pretty -affectation of alarm . . . and the next moment Udo decided that the -contest between them was not to be settled by such rough-and-tumble -methods as these. The fact that his tail had caught in something -helped him to decide. -

- -

-Belvane was up to him in an instant. -

- -

-"There, there!" she said soothingly, "Let me undo it for your Royal -Highness." She talked pleasantly as she worked at it. "Every little -accident teaches us something. Now if you'd been a rabbit this -wouldn't have happened." -

- -

-"No, I'm not even a rabbit," said Udo sadly. "I'm just nothing." -

- -

-Belvane stood up and made him a deep curtsey. -

- -

-"You are his Royal Highness Prince Udo of Araby. Your Royal -Highness's straw is prepared. When will your Royal Highness be -pleased to retire?" -

- -

-It was a little unkind, I think. I should not record it of her were -not Roger so insistent. -

- -

-"Now," said Udo, and lolloped sadly off. It was his one really -dignified moment in Euralia. -

- -

-On his way to his apartment he met Wiggs. -

- -

-"Wiggs," he said solemnly, "if ever you can do anything to annoy that -woman, such as making her an apple-pie bed, or anything like that, I -wish you'd do it." -

- -

-Whereupon he retired for the night. Into the mysteries of his toilet -we had perhaps better not inquire. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-As the chronicler of these simple happenings many years ago, it is my -duty to be impartial. "These are the facts," I should say, "and it is -for your nobilities to judge of them. Thus and thus my characters -have acted; how say you, my lords and ladies?" -

- -

-I confess that this attitude is beyond me; I have a fondness for all -my people, and I would not have you misunderstand any of them. But -with regard to one of them there is no need for me to say anything in -her defence. About her at any rate we agree. -

- -

-I mean Wiggs. We take the same view as Hyacinth: she was the best -little girl in Euralia. It will come then as a shock to you (as it -did to me on the morning after I had staggered home with Roger's -seventeen volumes) to learn that on her day Wiggs could be as bad as -anybody. I mean really bad. To tear your frock, to read books which -you ought to be dusting, these are accidents which may happen to -anybody. Far otherwise was Wiggs's fall. -

- -

-She adopted, in fact, the infamous suggestion of Prince Udo. Three -nights later, with malice aforethought and to the comfort of the -King's enemies and the prejudice of the safety of the realm, she made -an apple-pie bed for the Countess. -

- -

-It was the most perfect apple-pie bed ever made. Cox himself could -not have improved upon it; Newton has seen nothing like it. It took -Wiggs a whole morning; and the results, though private (that is the -worst of an apple-pie bed), were beyond expectation. After wrestling -for half an hour the Countess spent the night in a garden hammock, -composing a bitter Ode to Melancholy. -

- -

-Of course Wiggs caught it in the morning; the Countess suspected what -she could not prove. Wiggs, now in for a thoroughly bad week, -realised that it was her turn again. What should she do? -

- -

-An inspiration came to her. She had been really bad the day before; -it was a pity to waste such perfect badness as that. Why not have the -one bad wish to which the ring entitled her? -

- -

-She drew the ring out from its hiding-place round her neck. -

- -

-"I wish," she said, holding it up, "I wish that the Countess -Belvane——" she stopped to think of something that would really annoy -her—"I wish that the Countess shall never be able to write another -rhyme again." -

- -

-She held her breath, expecting a thunderclap or some other outward -token of the sudden death of Belvane's muse. Instead she was struck by -the extraordinary silence of the place. She had a horrid feeling that -everybody else was dead, and realising all at once that she was a very -wicked little girl, she ran up to her room and gave herself up to -tears. -

- -

-MAY YOU, DEAR SIR OR MADAM, REPENT AS QUICKLY! -

- -

-However, this is not a moral work. An hour later Wiggs came into -Belvane's garden, eager to discover in what way her inability to rhyme -would manifest itself. It seemed that she had chosen the exact -moment. -

- -

-In the throes of composition Belvane had quite forgotten the apple-pie -bed, so absorbing is our profession. She welcomed Wiggs eagerly, and -taking her hand led her towards the roses. -

- -

-"I have just been talking to my dear roses," she said. "Listen: -

- -

- Whene'er I take my walks about,
- I like to see the roses out;
- I like them yellow, white, and pink,
- But crimson are the best, I think.
- The butterfly——"
-

- -

-But we shall never know about the butterfly. It may be that Wiggs has -lost us here a thought on lepidoptera which the world can ill spare; -for she interrupted breathlessly. -

- -

-"When did you write that?" -

- -

-"I was just making it up when you came in, dear child. These thoughts -often come to me as I walk up and down my beautiful garden. 'The -butterfly——'" -

- -

-But Wiggs had let go her hand and was running back to the Palace. She -wanted to be alone to think this out. -

- -

-What had happened? That it was truly a magic ring, as the fairy had -told her, she had no doubt; that her wish was a bad one, that she had -been bad enough to earn it, she was equally certain. What then had -happened? There was only one answer to her question. The bad wish -had been granted to someone else. -

- -

-To whom? She had lent the ring to nobody. True, she had told the -Princess all about it, but—— -

- -

-Suddenly she remembered. The Countess had had it in her hands for a -moment. Yes, and she had sent her out of the room, and— -

- -

-So many thoughts crowded into Wiggs's mind at this moment that she -felt she must share them with somebody. She ran off to find the -Princess. -

- -


- -

-[Illustration: Detail of Wiggs curtsying] -

-

-CHAPTER XIV -

- -

-"WHY CAN'T YOU BE LIKE WIGGS?" -

- -

-Hyacinth was with Udo in the library. Udo spent much of his time in -the library nowadays; for surely in one of those many books was to be -found some Advice to a Gentleman in Temporary Difficulties suitable to -a case like his. Hyacinth kept him company sadly. It had been such a -brilliant idea inviting him to Euralia; how she wished now that she -had never done it. -

- -

-"Well, Wiggs," she said, with a gentle smile, "what have you been -doing with yourself all the morning?" -

- -

-Udo looked up from his mat and nodded to her. -

- -

-"I've found out," said Wiggs excitedly; "it was the Countess who did -it." -

- -

-Udo surveyed her with amazement. -

- -

-"The Princess Hyacinth," he said, "has golden hair. One discovers -these things gradually." And he returned to his book. -

- -

-Wiggs looked bewildered. -

- -

-"He means, dear," said Hyacinth, "that it is quite obvious that the -Countess did it, and we have known about it for days." -

- -

-Udo wore, as far as his face would permit, the slightly puffy -expression of one who has just said something profoundly ironical and -is feeling self-conscious about it. -

- -

-"Oh—h," said Wiggs in such a disappointed voice that it seemed as if -she were going to cry. -

- -

-Hyacinth, like the dear that she was, made haste to comfort her. -

- -

-"We didn't really know," she said; "we only guessed it. But now -that you have found out, I shall be able to punish her properly. No, -don't come with me," she said, as she rose and moved towards the door; -"stay here and help his Royal Highness. Perhaps you can find the book -that he wants; you've read more of them than I have, I expect." -

- -

-Left alone with the Prince, Wiggs was silent for a little, looking at -him rather anxiously. -

- -

-"Do you know all about the Countess?" she asked at last. -

- -

-"If there's anything I don't know, it must be very bad." -

- -

-"Then you know that it's all my fault that you are like this? Oh, -dear Prince Udo, I am so dreadfully sorry." -

- -

-"What do you mean—your fault?" -

- -

-"Because it was my ring that did it." -

- -

-Udo scratched his head in a slightly puzzled but quite a nice way. -

- -

-"Tell me all about it from the beginning," he said. "You have found -out something after all, I believe." -

- -

-So Wiggs told her story from the beginning. How the fairy had given -her a ring; how the Countess had taken it from her for five minutes -and had a bad wish on it; and how Wiggs had found her out that very -morning. -

- -

-Udo was intensely excited by the story. He trotted up and down the -library, muttering to himself. He stopped in front of Wiggs as soon -as she had finished. -

- -

-"Is the ring still going?" he asked. "I mean, can you have another -wish on it?" -

- -

-"Yes, just one." -

- -

-"Then wish her to be turned into a——" He tried to think of -something that would meet the case. "What about a spider?" he said -thoughtfully. -

- -

-"But that's a bad wish," said Wiggs. -

- -

-"Yes, but it's her turn." -

- -

-"Oh, but I'm only allowed a good wish now." She added rapturously, -"And I know what it's going to be." -

- -

-So did Udo. At least he thought he did. -

- -

-"Oh, you dear," he said, casting an affectionate look on her. -

- -

-"Yes, that's it. That I might be able to dance like a fairy." -

- -

-Udo could hardly believe his ears, and they were adequate enough for -most emergencies. -

- -

-"But how is that going to help me?" he said, tapping his chest with -his paw. -

- -

-"But it's my ring," said Wiggs. "And so of course I'm going to wish -that I can dance like a fairy. I've always meant to, as soon as I've -been good for a day first." -

- -

-The child was absurdly selfish. Udo saw that he would have to appeal -to her in another way. -

- -

-"Of course," he began, "I've nothing to say against dancing as -dancing, but I think you'll get tired of it. Just as I shall get -tired of—lettuce." -

- -

-Wiggs understood now. -

- -

-"You mean that I might wish you to be a Prince again?" -

- -

-"Well," said Udo casually, "it just occurred to me as an example of -what might be called the Good Wish." -

- -

-"Then I shall never be able to dance like a fairy?" -

- -

-"Neither shall I, if it comes to that," said Udo. Really, the child -was very stupid. -

- -

-"Oh, it's too cruel," said Wiggs, stamping her foot. "I did so want -to be able to dance." -

- -

-Udo glanced gloomily into the future. -

- -

-"To live for ever behind wire netting," he mused; "to be eternally -frightened by pink-eyed ferrets; to be offered -bran-mash—bran-mash—bran-mash wherever one visited week after week, -month after month, year after year, century after—how long do -rabbits live?" -

- -

-But Wiggs was not to be moved. -

- -

-"I won't give up my wish," she said passionately. -

- -

-Udo got on to his four legs with dignity. -

- -

-"Keep your wish," he said. "There are plenty of other ways of getting -out of enchantments. I'll learn up a piece of poetry by our Court -Poet Sacharino, and recite it backwards when the moon is new. -Something like that. I can do this quite easily by myself. Keep your -wish." -

- -

-He went slowly out. His tail (looking more like a bell-rope than -ever) followed him solemnly. The fluffy part that you pull was for a -moment left behind; then with a jerk it was gone, and Wiggs was left -alone. -

- -

-"I won't give up my wish," cried Wiggs again. "I'll wish it now -before I'm sorry." She held the ring up. "I wish that——" She -stopped suddenly. "Poor Prince Udo he seems very unhappy. I wonder -if it is a good wish to wish to dance when people are unhappy." She -thought this out for a little, and then made her great resolve. -"Yes," she said, "I'll wish him well again." -

- -

-Once more she held the ring up in her two hands. -

- -

-"I wish," she said, "that Prince Udo——" -

- -

-I know what you're going to say. It was no good her wishing her good -wish, because she had been a bad girl the day before—making the -Countess an apple-pie bed and all—disgraceful! How could she -possibly suppose—— -

- -

-She didn't. She remembered just in time. -

- -

-"Oh, bother," said Wiggs, standing in the middle of the room with the -ring held above her head. "I've got to be good for a day first. -Bother!" -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-So the next day was Wiggs's Good Day. The legend of it was handed -down for years afterwards in Euralia. It got into all the -Calendars—July 20th it was—marked with a red star; in Roger's -portentous volumes it had a chapter devoted to it. There was some -talk about it being made into a public holiday, he tells us, but this -fell through. Euralian mothers used to scold their naughty children -with the words, "Why can't you be like Wiggs?" and the children used -to tell each other that there never was a real Wiggs, and that it was -only a made-up story for parents. However, you have my word for it -that it was true. -

- -

-She began by getting up at five o'clock in the morning, and after -dressing herself very neatly (and being particularly careful to wring -out her sponge) she made her own bed and tidied up the room. For a -moment she thought of waking the grown-ups in the Palace and letting -them enjoy the beautiful morning too, but a little reflection showed -her that this would not be at all a kindly act; so, having dusted the -Throne Room and performed a few simple physical exercises, she went -outside and attended to the smaller domestic animals. -

- -

-[Illustration: When anybody of superior station or age came into the -room she rose and curtsied, verso] -[Illustration: When anybody of superior station or age came into the -room she rose and curtsied, recto] -

- -

-At breakfast she had three helps of something very nutritious, which -the Countess said would make her grow, but only one help of everything -else. She sat up nicely all the time, and never pointed to anything -or drank with her mouth full. After breakfast she scattered some -crumbs on the lawn for the robins, and then got to work again. -

- -

-First she dusted and dusted and dusted; then she swept and swept and -swept; then she sewed and sewed and sewed. When anybody of superior -station or age came into the room she rose and curtsied and stood with -her hands behind her back, while she was being spoken to. When -anybody said, "I wonder where I put my so-and-so," she jumped up and -said, "Let me fetch it," even if it was upstairs. -

- -

-After dinner she made up a basket of provisions and took them to the -old women who lived near the castle; to some of them she sang or read -aloud, and when at one cottage she was asked, "Now won't you give me a -little dance," she smiled bravely and said, "I'm afraid I don't dance -very well." I think that was rather sweet of her; if I had been the -fairy I should have let her off the rest of the day. -

- -

-When she got back to the Palace she drank two glasses of warm milk, -with the skin on, and then went and weeded the Countess's lawn; and -once when she trod by accident on a bed of flowers, she left the -footprint there instead of scraping it over hastily, and pretending -that she hadn't been near the place, as you would have done. -

- -

-And at half-past six she kissed everybody good-night (including Udo) -and went to bed. -

- -

-So ended July the Twentieth, perhaps the most memorable day in -Euralian history. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-Udo and Hyacinth spent the great day peacefully in the library. A -gentleman for all his fur, Udo had not told the Princess about Wiggs's -refusal to help him. Besides, a man has his dignity. To be turned -into a mixture of three animals by a woman of thirty, and to be turned -back again by a girl of ten, is to be too much the plaything of the -sex. It was time he did something for himself. -

- -

-"Now then, how did that bit of Sacharino's go? Let me see." He beat -time with a paw. "'Blood for something, something, some——' -Something like that. 'Blood for—er—blood for—er——' No, it's -gone again. I know there was a bit of blood in it." -

- -

-"I'm sure you'll get it soon," said Hyacinth. "It sounds as thought -it's going to be just the sort of thing that's wanted." -

- -

-"Oh, I shall get it all right. Some of the words have escaped me for -the moment, that's all. 'Blood—er—blood.' You must have heard of -it, Princess: it's about blood for he who something; you must know the -one I mean. -

- -

-"I know I've heard of it," said the Princess, wrinkling her forehead, -"only I can't quite think of it for the moment. It's about a—a——" -

- -

-"Yes, that's it," said Udo. -

- -

-Then they both looked up at the ceiling with their heads on one side -and murmured to themselves. -

- -

-But noon came and still they hadn't thought of it. -

- -

-After a simple meal they returned to the library. -

- -

-"I think I'd better write to Coronel," said Udo, "and ask him about -it." -

- -

-"I thought you said his name was Sacharino." -

- -

-"Oh, this is not the poet, it's just a friend of mine, but he's rather -good at this sort of thing. The trouble is that it takes such a long -time for a letter to get there and back." -

- -

-At the word "letter," Hyacinth started suddenly. -

- -

-"Oh, Prince Udo," she cried, "I can never forgive myself. I've just -remembered the very thing. Father told me in his letter that a little -couplet he once wrote was being very useful for—er—removing things." -

- -

-"What sort of things?" said Udo, not too hopefully. -

- -

-"Oh, enchantments and things." -

- -

-Udo was a little annoyed at the "and things"—as those turning him -back into a Prince again was as much in the day's work as removing -rust from a helmet. -

- -

-"It goes like this," said Hyacinth. -

- -

- "Bo, boll, bill, bole.
-  Wo, woll, will, wole."
-

- -

-"It sounds as though it would remove anything," she added, with a -smile. -

- -

-Udo sat up rather eagerly. -

- -

-"I'll try," he said. "Is there any particular action that goes with -it?" -

- -

-"I've never heard of any. I expect you ought to say it as if you -meant it." -

- -

-Udo sat up on his back paws, and, gesticulating freely with his right -paw, declaimed: -

- -

- "Bo, boll, bill, bole.
-  Wo, woll, will, wole."
-

- -

-He fixed his eyes on his paws, waiting for the transformation. -

- -

-He waited. -

- -

-And waited. -

- -

-Nothing happened. -

- -

-"It must be all right," said Hyacinth anxiously, "because I'm sure -Father would know. Try saying it more like this." -

- -

-She repeated the lines in a voice so melting, yet withal so dignified, -that the very chairs might have been expected to get up and walk out. -

- -

-Udo imitated her as well as he could. -

- -

-At about the time when Wiggs was just falling asleep, he repeated it -in his fiftieth different voice. -

- -

-"I'm sorry," said Hyacinth; "perhaps it isn't so good as Father -thought it was." -

- -

-"There's just one chance," said Udo. "It's possible it may have to be -said on an empty stomach. I'll try it to-morrow before breakfast." -

- -

-Upstairs Wiggs was dreaming of the dancing that she had given up for -ever. -

- -

-And what Belvane was doing I really don't know. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Wiggs dancing] +

+ +We do not measure with such care:
+ +Woman in thousand steps is there,
+ +But howsoe'er she hasten may.
+ +Man in one leap has cleared the way.
+ +Faust, trans. of Bayard Taylor.—TR.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[14] This is thy world, and what a world!—Faust.

+ + + + + +

[Pg 81]

+ +

10.

+ + + + + +

It is an indisputable tradition that Greek tragedy in its earliest + +form had for its theme only the sufferings of Dionysus, and that for + +some time the only stage-hero therein was simply Dionysus himself. + +With the same confidence, however, we can maintain that not until + +Euripides did Dionysus cease to be the tragic hero, and that in fact + +all the celebrated figures of the Greek stage—Prometheus, Œdipus, + +etc.—are but masks of this original hero, Dionysus. The presence of a + +god behind all these masks is the one essential cause of the typical + +"ideality," so oft exciting wonder, of these celebrated figures. Some + +one, I know not whom, has maintained that all individuals are comic as + +individuals and are consequently un-tragic: from whence it might be + +inferred that the Greeks in general could not endure individuals on + +the tragic stage. And they really seem to have had these sentiments: + +as, in general, it is to be observed that the Platonic discrimination + +and valuation of the "idea" in contrast to the "eidolon," the image, + +is deeply rooted in the Hellenic being. Availing ourselves of Plato's + +terminology, however, we should have to speak of the tragic figures of + +the Hellenic stage somewhat as follows. The one truly real Dionysus + +appears in a multiplicity of forms, in the mask of a fighting hero + +and entangled, as it were, in the net of an individual will. As the + +visibly appearing god now talks and acts, he resembles an erring, + +striving, suffering[Pg 82] individual: and that, in general, he appears + +with such epic precision and clearness, is due to the dream-reading + +Apollo, who reads to the chorus its Dionysian state through this + +symbolic appearance. In reality, however, this hero is the suffering + +Dionysus of the mysteries, a god experiencing in himself the sufferings + +of individuation, of whom wonderful myths tell that as a boy he was + +dismembered by the Titans and has been worshipped in this state + +as Zagreus:[15] whereby is intimated that this dismemberment, the + +properly Dionysian suffering, is like a transformation into air, + +water, earth, and fire, that we must therefore regard the state of + +individuation as the source and primal cause of all suffering, as + +something objectionable in itself. From the smile of this Dionysus + +sprang the Olympian gods, from his tears sprang man. In his existence + +as a dismembered god, Dionysus has the dual nature of a cruel + +barbarised demon, and a mild pacific ruler. But the hope of the epopts + +looked for a new birth of Dionysus, which we have now to conceive of in + +anticipation as the end of individuation: it was for this coming third + +Dionysus that the stormy jubilation-hymns of the epopts resounded. And + +it is only this hope that sheds a ray of joy upon the features of a + +world torn asunder and shattered into individuals: as is symbolised in + +the myth by Demeter sunk in eternal sadness, who rejoices again only + +when told[Pg 83] that she may once more give birth to Dionysus In the views + +of things here given we already have all the elements of a profound and + +pessimistic contemplation of the world, and along with these we have + +the mystery doctrine of tragedy: the fundamental knowledge of the + +oneness of all existing things, the consideration of individuation as + +the primal cause of evil, and art as the joyous hope that the spell of + +individuation may be broken, as the augury of a restored oneness.

+ + + +

It has already been intimated that the Homeric epos is the poem + +of Olympian culture, wherewith this culture has sung its own song + +of triumph over the terrors of the war of the Titans. Under the + +predominating influence of tragic poetry, these Homeric myths are now + +reproduced anew, and show by this metempsychosis that meantime the + +Olympian culture also has been vanquished by a still deeper view of + +things. The haughty Titan Prometheus has announced to his Olympian + +tormentor that the extremest danger will one day menace his rule, + +unless he ally with him betimes. In Æschylus we perceive the terrified + +Zeus, apprehensive of his end, in alliance with the Titan. Thus, the + +former age of the Titans is subsequently brought from Tartarus once + +more to the light of day. The philosophy of wild and naked nature + +beholds with the undissembled mien of truth the myths of the Homeric + +world as they dance past: they turn pale, they tremble before the + +lightning glance of this goddess—till the powerful fist[16] of[Pg 84] + +the Dionysian artist forces them into the service of the new deity. + +Dionysian truth takes over the entire domain of myth as symbolism of + +its knowledge, which it makes known partly in the public cult of + +tragedy and partly in the secret celebration of the dramatic mysteries, + +always, however, in the old mythical garb. What was the power, which + +freed Prometheus from his vultures and transformed the myth into a + +vehicle of Dionysian wisdom? It is the Heracleian power of music: + +which, having reached its highest manifestness in tragedy, can invest + +myths with a new and most profound significance, which we have already + +had occasion to characterise as the most powerful faculty of music. For + +it is the fate of every myth to insinuate itself into the narrow limits + +of some alleged historical reality, and to be treated by some later + +generation as a solitary fact with historical claims: and the Greeks + +were already fairly on the way to restamp the whole of their mythical + +juvenile dream sagaciously and arbitrarily into a historico-pragmatical + +juvenile history. For this is the manner in which religions are + +wont to die out: when of course under the stern, intelligent eyes of + +an orthodox dogmatism, the mythical presuppositions of a religion are + +systematised as a completed sum of historical events, and when one + +begins apprehensively to defend the credibility of the myth, while at + +the same time opposing all continuation of their natural vitality and + +luxuriance; when, accordingly, the feeling for myth dies out, and its + +place is taken by the claim of religion to historical[Pg 85] foundations. + +This dying myth was now seized by the new-born genius of Dionysian + +music, in whose hands it bloomed once more, with such colours as it + +had never yet displayed, with a fragrance that awakened a longing + +anticipation of a metaphysical world. After this final effulgence + +it collapses, its leaves wither, and soon the scoffing Lucians of + +antiquity catch at the discoloured and faded flowers which the winds + +carry off in every direction. Through tragedy the myth attains its + +profoundest significance, its most expressive form; it rises once more + +like a wounded hero, and the whole surplus of vitality, together with + +the philosophical calmness of the Dying, burns in its eyes with a last + +powerful gleam.

+ + + +

What meantest thou, oh impious Euripides, in seeking once more to + +enthral this dying one? It died under thy ruthless hands: and then + +thou madest use of counterfeit, masked myth, which like the ape of + +Heracles could only trick itself out in the old finery. And as myth + +died in thy hands, so also died the genius of music; though thou + +couldst covetously plunder all the gardens of music—thou didst only + +realise a counterfeit, masked music. And because thou hast forsaken + +Dionysus. Apollo hath also forsaken thee; rout up all the passions from + +their haunts and conjure them into thy sphere, sharpen and polish a + +sophistical dialectics for the speeches of thy heroes—thy very heroes + +have only counterfeit, masked passions, and speak only counterfeit, + +masked music.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[15] See article by Mr. Arthur Symons in The Academy, 30th + +August 1902.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[16] Die mächtige Faust.—Cf. Faust, Chorus of + +Spirits.—TR.

+ + + +

[Pg 86]

+ + + + + + + +

11.

+ + + + + +

Greek tragedy had a fate different from that of all her older sister + +arts: she died by suicide, in consequence of an irreconcilable + +conflict; accordingly she died tragically, while they all passed away + +very calmly and beautifully in ripe old age. For if it be in accordance + +with a happy state of things to depart this life without a struggle, + +leaving behind a fair posterity, the closing period of these older + +arts exhibits such a happy state of things: slowly they sink out of + +sight, and before their dying eyes already stand their fairer progeny, + +who impatiently lift up their heads with courageous mien. The death of + +Greek tragedy, on the other hand, left an immense void, deeply felt + +everywhere. Even as certain Greek sailors in the time of Tiberius once + +heard upon a lonesome island the thrilling cry, "great Pan is dead": so + +now as it were sorrowful wailing sounded through the Hellenic world: + +"Tragedy is dead! Poetry itself has perished with her! Begone, begone, + +ye stunted, emaciated epigones! Begone to Hades, that ye may for once + +eat your fill of the crumbs of your former masters!"

+ + + +

But when after all a new Art blossomed forth which revered tragedy as + +her ancestress and mistress, it was observed with horror that she did + +indeed bear the features of her mother, but those very features the + +latter had exhibited in her long death-struggle. It was Euripides who + +fought this death-struggle of tragedy; the later art is known as the + +New Attic Comedy. In it the degenerate[Pg 87] form of tragedy lived on as a + +monument of the most painful and violent death of tragedy proper.

+ + + +

This connection between the two serves to explain the passionate + +attachment to Euripides evinced by the poets of the New Comedy, and + +hence we are no longer surprised at the wish of Philemon, who would + +have got himself hanged at once, with the sole design of being able + +to visit Euripides in the lower regions: if only he could be assured + +generally that the deceased still had his wits. But if we desire, as + +briefly as possible, and without professing to say aught exhaustive on + +the subject, to characterise what Euripides has in common with Menander + +and Philemon, and what appealed to them so strongly as worthy of + +imitation: it will suffice to say that the spectator was brought upon + +the stage by Euripides. He who has perceived the material of which the + +Promethean tragic writers prior to Euripides formed their heroes, and + +how remote from their purpose it was to bring the true mask of reality + +on the stage, will also know what to make of the wholly divergent + +tendency of Euripides. Through him the commonplace individual forced + +his way from the spectators' benches to the stage itself; the mirror in + +which formerly only great and bold traits found expression now showed + +the painful exactness that conscientiously reproduces even the abortive + +lines of nature. Odysseus, the typical Hellene of the Old Art, sank, + +in the hands of the new poets, to the figure of the Græculus, who, as + +the good-naturedly cunning domestic slave, stands henceforth in the + +centre of dramatic[Pg 88] interest. What Euripides takes credit for in the + +Aristophanean "Frogs," namely, that by his household remedies he freed + +tragic art from its pompous corpulency, is apparent above all in his + +tragic heroes. The spectator now virtually saw and heard his double on + +the Euripidean stage, and rejoiced that he could talk so well. But this + +joy was not all: one even learned of Euripides how to speak: he prides + +himself upon this in his contest with Æschylus: how the people have + +learned from him how to observe, debate, and draw conclusions according + +to the rules of art and with the cleverest sophistications. In general + +it may be said that through this revolution of the popular language he + +made the New Comedy possible. For it was henceforth no longer a secret, + +how—and with what saws—the commonplace could represent and express + +itself on the stage. Civic mediocrity, on which Euripides built all + +his political hopes, was now suffered to speak, while heretofore the + +demigod in tragedy and the drunken satyr, or demiman, in comedy, had + +determined the character of the language. And so the Aristophanean + +Euripides prides himself on having portrayed the common, familiar, + +everyday life and dealings of the people, concerning which all are + +qualified to pass judgment. If now the entire populace philosophises, + +manages land and goods with unheard-of circumspection, and conducts + +law-suits, he takes all the credit to himself, and glories in the + +splendid results of the wisdom with which he inoculated the rabble.

+ + + +

It was to a populace prepared and enlightened[Pg 89] in this manner that the + +New Comedy could now address itself, of which Euripides had become + +as it were the chorus-master; only that in this case the chorus of + +spectators had to be trained. As soon as this chorus was trained to + +sing in the Euripidean key, there arose that chesslike variety of the + +drama, the New Comedy, with its perpetual triumphs of cunning and + +artfulness. But Euripides—the chorus-master—was praised incessantly: + +indeed, people would have killed themselves in order to learn yet more + +from him, had they not known that tragic poets were quite as dead as + +tragedy. But with it the Hellene had surrendered the belief in his + +immortality; not only the belief in an ideal past, but also the belief + +in an ideal future. The saying taken from the well-known epitaph, "as + +an old man, frivolous and capricious," applies also to aged Hellenism. + +The passing moment, wit, levity, and caprice, are its highest deities; + +the fifth class, that of the slaves, now attains to power, at least in + +sentiment: and if we can still speak at all of "Greek cheerfulness," + +it is the cheerfulness of the slave who has nothing of consequence to + +answer for, nothing great to strive for, and cannot value anything of + +the past or future higher than the present. It was this semblance of + +"Greek cheerfulness" which so revolted the deep-minded and formidable + +natures of the first four centuries of Christianity: this womanish + +flight from earnestness and terror, this cowardly contentedness with + +easy pleasure, was not only contemptible to them, but seemed to be a + +specifically anti-Christian sentiment. And we must ascribe[Pg 90] it to its + +influence that the conception of Greek antiquity, which lived on for + +centuries, preserved with almost enduring persistency that peculiar + +hectic colour of cheerfulness—as if there had never been a Sixth + +Century with its birth of tragedy, its Mysteries, its Pythagoras and + +Heraclitus, indeed as if the art-works of that great period did not at + +all exist, which in fact—each by itself—can in no wise be explained + +as having sprung from the soil of such a decrepit and slavish love + +of existence and cheerfulness, and point to an altogether different + +conception of things as their source.

+ + + +

The assertion made a moment ago, that Euripides introduced the + +spectator on the stage to qualify him the better to pass judgment on + +the drama, will make it appear as if the old tragic art was always + +in a false relation to the spectator: and one would be tempted to + +extol the radical tendency of Euripides to bring about an adequate + +relation between art-work and public as an advance on Sophocles. But, + +as things are, "public" is merely a word, and not at all a homogeneous + +and constant quantity. Why should the artist be under obligations to + +accommodate himself to a power whose strength is merely in numbers? + +And if by virtue of his endowments and aspirations he feels himself + +superior to every one of these spectators, how could he feel greater + +respect for the collective expression of all these subordinate + +capacities than for the relatively highest-endowed individual + +spectator? In truth, if ever a Greek artist treated his public + +throughout a long life with presumptuousness and self-sufficiency, + +it was Euripides, who,[Pg 91] even when the masses threw themselves at his + +feet, with sublime defiance made an open assault on his own tendency, + +the very tendency with which he had triumphed over the masses. If this + +genius had had the slightest reverence for the pandemonium of the + +public, he would have broken down long before the middle of his career + +beneath the weighty blows of his own failures. These considerations + +here make it obvious that our formula—namely, that Euripides brought + +the spectator upon the stage, in order to make him truly competent to + +pass judgment—was but a provisional one, and that we must seek for a + +deeper understanding of his tendency. Conversely, it is undoubtedly + +well known that Æschylus and Sophocles, during all their lives, indeed, + +far beyond their lives, enjoyed the full favour of the people, and that + +therefore in the case of these predecessors of Euripides the idea of + +a false relation between art-work and public was altogether excluded. + +What was it that thus forcibly diverted this highly gifted artist, so + +incessantly impelled to production, from the path over which shone the + +sun of the greatest names in poetry and the cloudless heaven of popular + +favour? What strange consideration for the spectator led him to defy, + +the spectator? How could he, owing to too much respect for the public + +—dis-respect the public?

+ + + +

Euripides—and this is the solution of the riddle just propounded—felt + +himself, as a poet, undoubtedly superior to the masses, but not to + +two of his spectators: he brought the masses upon the stage; these + +two spectators he revered as the[Pg 92] only competent judges and masters + +of his art: in compliance with their directions and admonitions, he + +transferred the entire world of sentiments, passions, and experiences, + +hitherto present at every festival representation as the invisible + +chorus on the spectators' benches, into the souls of his stage-heroes; + +he yielded to their demands when he also sought for these new + +characters the new word and the new tone; in their voices alone he + +heard the conclusive verdict on his work, as also the cheering promise + +of triumph when he found himself condemned as usual by the justice of + +the public.

+ + + +

Of these two, spectators the one is—Euripides himself, Euripides as + +thinker, not as poet. It might be said of him, that his unusually + +large fund of critical ability, as in the case of Lessing, if it did + +not create, at least constantly fructified a productively artistic + +collateral impulse. With this faculty, with all the clearness and + +dexterity of his critical thought, Euripides had sat in the theatre and + +striven to recognise in the masterpieces of his great predecessors, as + +in faded paintings, feature and feature, line and line. And here had + +happened to him what one initiated in the deeper arcana of Æschylean + +tragedy must needs have expected: he observed something incommensurable + +in every feature and in every line, a certain deceptive distinctness + +and at the same time an enigmatic profundity, yea an infinitude, of + +background. Even the clearest figure had always a comet's tail attached + +to it, which seemed to suggest the uncertain and the inexplicable. + +The same twilight shrouded the structure of the drama, especially the + +significance[Pg 93] of the chorus. And how doubtful seemed the solution of + +the ethical problems to his mind! How questionable the treatment of + +the myths! How unequal the distribution of happiness and misfortune! + +Even in the language of the Old Tragedy there was much that was + +objectionable to him, or at least enigmatical; he found especially + +too much pomp for simple affairs, too many tropes and immense things + +for the plainness of the characters. Thus he sat restlessly pondering + +in the theatre, and as a spectator he acknowledged to himself that he + +did not understand his great predecessors. If, however, he thought the + +understanding the root proper of all enjoyment and productivity, he had + +to inquire and look about to see whether any one else thought as he + +did, and also acknowledged this incommensurability. But most people, + +and among them the best individuals, had only a distrustful smile for + +him, while none could explain why the great masters were still in the + +right in face of his scruples and objections. And in this painful + +condition he found that other spectator, who did not comprehend, + +and therefore did not esteem, tragedy. In alliance with him he could + +venture, from amid his lonesomeness, to begin the prodigious struggle + +against the art of Æschylus and Sophocles—not with polemic writings, + +but as a dramatic poet, who opposed his own conception of tragedy to + +the traditional one.

+ + + +

[Pg 94]

+ + + + + + + +

12.

+ + + + + +

Before we name this other spectator, let us pause here a moment in + +order to recall our own impression, as previously described, of the + +discordant and incommensurable elements in the nature of Æschylean + +tragedy. Let us think of our own astonishment at the chorus and + +the tragic hero of that type of tragedy, neither of which we could + +reconcile with our practices any more than with tradition—till we + +rediscovered this duplexity itself as the origin and essence of Greek + +tragedy, as the expression of two interwoven artistic impulses, the + +Apollonian and the Dionysian.

+ + + +

To separate this primitive and all-powerful Dionysian element from + +tragedy, and to build up a new and purified form of tragedy on the + +basis of a non-Dionysian art, morality, and conception of things—such + +is the tendency of Euripides which now reveals itself to us in a clear + +light.

+ + + +

In a myth composed in the eve of his life, Euripides himself most + +urgently propounded to his contemporaries the question as to the + +value and signification of this tendency. Is the Dionysian entitled + +to exist at all? Should it not be forcibly rooted out of the Hellenic + +soil? Certainly, the poet tells us, if only it were possible: but the + +god Dionysus is too powerful; his most intelligent adversary—like + +Pentheus in the "Bacchæ"—is unwittingly enchanted by him, and + +in this enchantment meets his fate. The judgment of the two old + +sages, Cadmus and Tiresias, seems to be also the judgment of the[Pg 95] + +aged poet: that the reflection of the wisest individuals does not + +overthrow old popular traditions, nor the perpetually propagating + +worship of Dionysus, that in fact it behoves us to display at least a + +diplomatically cautious concern in the presence of such strange forces: + +where however it is always possible that the god may take offence + +at such lukewarm participation, and finally change the diplomat—in + +this case Cadmus—into a dragon. This is what a poet tells us, who + +opposed Dionysus with heroic valour throughout a long life—in order + +finally to wind up his career with a glorification of his adversary, + +and with suicide, like one staggering from giddiness, who, in order + +to escape the horrible vertigo he can no longer endure, casts himself + +from a tower. This tragedy—the Bacchæ—is a protest against the + +practicability of his own tendency; alas, and it has already been + +put into practice! The surprising thing had happened: when the poet + +recanted, his tendency had already conquered. Dionysus had already + +been scared from the tragic stage, and in fact by a demonic power + +which spoke through Euripides. Even Euripides was, in a certain sense, + +only a mask: the deity that spoke through him was neither Dionysus nor + +Apollo, but an altogether new-born demon, called Socrates. This is + +the new antithesis: the Dionysian and the Socratic, and the art-work of + +Greek tragedy was wrecked on it. What if even Euripides now seeks to + +comfort us by his recantation? It is of no avail: the most magnificent + +temple lies in ruins. What avails the lamentation of the destroyer, + +and his[Pg 96] confession that it was the most beautiful of all temples? And + +even that Euripides has been changed into a dragon as a punishment by + +the art-critics of all ages—who could be content with this wretched + +compensation?

+ + + +

Let us now approach this Socratic tendency with which Euripides + +combated and vanquished Æschylean tragedy.

+ + + +

We must now ask ourselves, what could be the ulterior aim of the + +Euripidean design, which, in the highest ideality of its execution, + +would found drama exclusively on the non-Dionysian? What other form of + +drama could there be, if it was not to be born of the womb of music, in + +the mysterious twilight of the Dionysian? Only the dramatised epos: + +in which Apollonian domain of art the tragic effect is of course + +unattainable. It does not depend on the subject-matter of the events + +here represented; indeed, I venture to assert that it would have been + +impossible for Goethe in his projected "Nausikaa" to have rendered + +tragically effective the suicide of the idyllic being with which he + +intended to complete the fifth act; so extraordinary is the power of + +the epic-Apollonian representation, that it charms, before our eyes, + +the most terrible things by the joy in appearance and in redemption + +through appearance. The poet of the dramatised epos cannot completely + +blend with his pictures any more than the epic rhapsodist. He is still + +just the calm, unmoved embodiment of Contemplation whose wide eyes see + +the picture before them. The actor in this dramatised epos still + +remains intrinsically rhapsodist: the consecration[Pg 97] of inner dreaming + +is on all his actions, so that he is never wholly an actor.

+ + + +

How, then, is the Euripidean play related to this ideal of the + +Apollonian drama? Just as the younger rhapsodist is related to the + +solemn rhapsodist of the old time. The former describes his own + +character in the Platonic "Ion" as follows: "When I am saying anything + +sad, my eyes fill with tears; when, however, what I am saying is awful + +and terrible, then my hair stands on end through fear, and my heart + +leaps." Here we no longer observe anything of the epic absorption + +in appearance, or of the unemotional coolness of the true actor, + +who precisely in his highest activity is wholly appearance and joy + +in appearance. Euripides is the actor with leaping heart, with hair + +standing on end; as Socratic thinker he designs the plan, as passionate + +actor he executes it. Neither in the designing nor in the execution is + +he an artist pure and simple. And so the Euripidean drama is a thing + +both cool and fiery, equally capable of freezing and burning; it is + +impossible for it to attain the Apollonian, effect of the epos, while, + +on the other hand, it has severed itself as much as possible from + +Dionysian elements, and now, in order to act at all, it requires new + +stimulants, which can no longer lie within the sphere of the two unique + +art-impulses, the Apollonian and the Dionysian. The stimulants are + +cool, paradoxical thoughts, in place of Apollonian intuitions—and + +fiery passions—in place Dionysean ecstasies; and in fact, thoughts + +and passions very realistically copied, and not at all steeped in the + +ether of art.

+ + + +

[Pg 98]

+ + + +

Accordingly, if we have perceived this much, that Euripides did not + +succeed in establishing the drama exclusively on the Apollonian, but + +that rather his non-Dionysian inclinations deviated into a naturalistic + +and inartistic tendency, we shall now be able to approach nearer to + +the character æsthetic Socratism. supreme law of which reads about + +as follows: "to be beautiful everything must be intelligible," as + +the parallel to the Socratic proposition, "only the knowing is one + +virtuous." With this canon in his hands Euripides measured all the + +separate elements of the drama, and rectified them according to his + +principle: the language, the characters, the dramaturgic structure, and + +the choric music. The poetic deficiency and retrogression, which we + +are so often wont to impute to Euripides in comparison with Sophoclean + +tragedy, is for the most part the product of this penetrating critical + +process, this daring intelligibility. The Euripidian prologue may + +serve us as an example of the productivity of this, rationalistic + +method. Nothing could be more opposed to the technique of our stage + +than the prologue in the drama of Euripides. For a single person to + +appear at the outset of the play telling us who he is, what precedes + +the action, what has happened thus far, yea, what will happen in + +the course of the play, would be designated by a modern playwright + +as a wanton and unpardonable abandonment of the effect of suspense. + +Everything that is about to happen is known beforehand; who then + +cares to wait for it actually to happen?—considering, moreover, that + +here there is not by any means the exciting relation of a predicting + +dream to a reality[Pg 99] taking place later on. Euripides speculated quite + +differently. The effect of tragedy never depended on epic suspense, on + +the fascinating uncertainty as to what is to happen now and afterwards: + +but rather on the great rhetoro-lyric scenes in which the passion and + +dialectics of the chief hero swelled to a broad and mighty stream. + +Everything was arranged for pathos, not for action: and whatever + +was not arranged for pathos was regarded as objectionable. But what + +interferes most with the hearer's pleasurable satisfaction in such + +scenes is a missing link, a gap in the texture of the previous history. + +So long as the spectator has to divine the meaning of this or that + +person, or the presuppositions of this or that conflict of inclinations + +and intentions, his complete absorption in the doings and sufferings + +of the chief persons is impossible, as is likewise breathless + +fellow-feeling and fellow-fearing. The Æschyleo-Sophoclean tragedy + +employed the most ingenious devices in the first scenes to place in + +the hands of the spectator as if by chance all the threads requisite + +for understanding the whole: a trait in which that noble artistry is + +approved, which as it were masks the inevitably formal, and causes + +it to appear as something accidental. But nevertheless Euripides + +thought he observed that during these first scenes the spectator was + +in a strange state of anxiety to make out the problem of the previous + +history, so that the poetic beauties and pathos of the exposition + +were lost to him. Accordingly he placed the prologue even before the + +exposition, and put it in the mouth of a person who could be trusted: + +some deity had often[Pg 100] as it were to guarantee the particulars of the + +tragedy to the public and remove every doubt as to the reality of the + +myth: as in the case of Descartes, who could only prove the reality + +of the empiric world by an appeal to the truthfulness of God and His + +inability to utter falsehood. Euripides makes use of the same divine + +truthfulness once more at the close of his drama, in order to ensure to + +the public the future of his heroes; this is the task of the notorious + +deus ex machina. Between the preliminary and the additional epic + +spectacle there is the dramatico-lyric present, the "drama" proper.

+ + + +

Thus Euripides as a poet echoes above all his own conscious + +knowledge; and it is precisely on this account that he occupies such + +a notable position in the history of Greek art. With reference to his + +critico-productive activity, he must often have felt that he ought + +to actualise in the drama the words at the beginning of the essay of + +Anaxagoras: "In the beginning all things were mixed together; then + +came the understanding and created order." And if Anaxagoras with his + +"νοῡς" seemed like the first sober person among nothing but drunken + +philosophers, Euripides may also have conceived his relation to + +the other tragic poets under a similar figure. As long as the sole + +ruler and disposer of the universe, the νοῡς, was still excluded + +from artistic activity, things were all mixed together in a chaotic, + +primitive mess;—it is thus Euripides was obliged to think, it is thus + +he was obliged to condemn the "drunken" poets as the first "sober" one + +among them. What Sophocles said of Æschylus, that he did what was[Pg 101] + +right, though unconsciously, was surely not in the mind of Euripides: + +who would have admitted only thus much, that Æschylus, because he + +wrought unconsciously, did what was wrong. So also the divine Plato + +speaks for the most part only ironically of the creative faculty of the + +poet, in so far as it is not conscious insight, and places it on a par + +with the gift of the soothsayer and dream-interpreter; insinuating that + +the poet is incapable of composing until he has become unconscious and + +reason has deserted him. Like Plato, Euripides undertook to show to the + +world the reverse of the "unintelligent" poet; his æsthetic principle + +that "to be beautiful everything must be known" is, as I have said, + +the parallel to the Socratic "to be good everything must be known." + +Accordingly we may regard Euripides as the poet of æsthetic Socratism. + +Socrates, however, was that second spectator who did not comprehend + +and therefore did not esteem the Old Tragedy; in alliance with him + +Euripides ventured to be the herald of a new artistic activity. If, + +then, the Old Tragedy was here destroyed, it follows that æsthetic + +Socratism was the murderous principle; but in so far as the struggle is + +directed against the Dionysian element in the old art, we recognise in + +Socrates the opponent of Dionysus, the new Orpheus who rebels against + +Dionysus; and although destined to be torn to pieces by the Mænads of + +the Athenian court, yet puts to flight the overpowerful god himself, + +who, when he fled from Lycurgus, the king of Edoni, sought refuge in + +the depths of the ocean—namely, in the mystical flood of a secret + +cult which gradually overspread the earth.

+ + + +

[Pg 102]

+ + + + + + + +

13.

+ + + + + +

That Socrates stood in close relationship to Euripides in the tendency + +of his teaching, did not escape the notice of contemporaneous + +antiquity; the most eloquent expression of this felicitous insight + +being the tale current in Athens, that Socrates was accustomed to help + +Euripides in poetising. Both names were mentioned in one breath by the + +adherents of the "good old time," whenever they came to enumerating the + +popular agitators of the day: to whose influence they attributed the + +fact that the old Marathonian stalwart capacity of body and soul was + +more and more being sacrificed to a dubious enlightenment, involving + +progressive degeneration of the physical and mental powers. It is in + +this tone, half indignantly and half contemptuously, that Aristophanic + +comedy is wont to speak of both of them—to the consternation of + +modern men, who would indeed be willing enough to give up Euripides, + +but cannot suppress their amazement that Socrates should appear in + +Aristophanes as the first and head sophist, as the mirror and epitome + +of all sophistical tendencies; in connection with which it offers the + +single consolation of putting Aristophanes himself in the pillory, as a + +rakish, lying Alcibiades of poetry. Without here defending the profound + +instincts of Aristophanes against such attacks, I shall now indicate, + +by means of the sentiments of the time, the close connection between + +Socrates and Euripides. With this purpose in view, it is especially to + +be[Pg 103] remembered that Socrates, as an opponent of tragic art, did not + +ordinarily patronise tragedy, but only appeared among the spectators + +when a new play of Euripides was performed. The most noted thing, + +however, is the close juxtaposition of the two names in the Delphic + +oracle, which designated Socrates as the wisest of men, but at the same + +time decided that the second prize in the contest of wisdom was due to + +Euripides.

+ + + +

Sophocles was designated as the third in this scale of rank; he who + +could pride himself that, in comparison with Æschylus, he did what + +was right, and did it, moreover, because he knew what was right. It + +is evidently just the degree of clearness of this knowledge, which + +distinguishes these three men in common as the three "knowing ones" of + +their age.

+ + + +

The most decisive word, however, for this new and unprecedented + +esteem of knowledge and insight was spoken by Socrates when he + +found that he was the only one who acknowledged to himself that he + +knew nothing while in his critical pilgrimage through Athens, and + +calling on the greatest statesmen, orators, poets, and artists, he + +discovered everywhere the conceit of knowledge. He perceived, to his + +astonishment, that all these celebrities were without a proper and + +accurate insight, even with regard to their own callings, and practised + +them only by instinct. "Only by instinct": with this phrase we touch + +upon the heart and core of the Socratic tendency. Socratism condemns + +therewith existing art as well as existing ethics; wherever Socratism + +turns its[Pg 104] searching eyes it beholds the lack of insight and the + +power of illusion; and from this lack infers the inner perversity and + +objectionableness of existing conditions. From this point onwards, + +Socrates believed that he was called upon to, correct existence; + +and, with an air of disregard and superiority, as the precursor + +of an altogether different culture, art, and morality, he enters + +single-handed into a world, of which, if we reverently touched the hem, + +we should count it our greatest happiness.

+ + + +

Here is the extraordinary hesitancy which always seizes upon us with + +regard to Socrates, and again and again invites us to ascertain the + +sense and purpose of this most questionable phenomenon of antiquity. + +Who is it that ventures single-handed to disown the Greek character, + +which, as Homer, Pindar, and Æschylus, as Phidias, as Pericles, as + +Pythia and Dionysus, as the deepest abyss and the highest height, is + +sure of our wondering admiration? What demoniac power is it which would + +presume to spill this magic draught in the dust? What demigod is it to + +whom the chorus of spirits of the noblest of mankind must call out: + +"Weh! Weh! Du hast sie zerstört, die schöne Welt, mit mächtiger Faust; + +sie stürzt, sie zerfällt!"[17]

+ + + +

[Pg 105]

+ + + +

A key to the character of Socrates is presented to us by the surprising + +phenomenon designated as the "daimonion" of Socrates. In special + +circumstances, when his gigantic intellect began to stagger, he got + +a secure support in the utterances of a divine voice which then + +spake to him. This voice, whenever it comes, always dissuades. + +In this totally abnormal nature instinctive wisdom only appears in + +order to hinder the progress of conscious perception here and there. + +While in all productive men it is instinct which is the creatively + +affirmative force, consciousness only comporting itself critically + +and dissuasively; with Socrates it is instinct which becomes critic; + +it is consciousness which becomes creator—a perfect monstrosity + +per defectum! And we do indeed observe here a monstrous defectus + +of all mystical aptitude, so that Socrates might be designated as + +the specific non-mystic, in whom the logical nature is developed, + +through a superfoetation, to the same excess as instinctive wisdom + +is developed in the mystic. On the other hand, however, the logical + +instinct which appeared in Socrates was absolutely prohibited from + +turning against itself; in its unchecked flow it manifests a native + +power such as we meet with, to our shocking surprise, only among the + +very greatest instinctive forces. He who has experienced even a breath + +of the divine naïveté and security of the Socratic course of life in + +the Platonic writings, will also feel that the enormous driving-wheel + +of logical Socratism is in motion, as it were, behind Socrates, and + +that it must be viewed through Socrates as through a[Pg 106] shadow. And + +that he himself had a boding of this relation is apparent from the + +dignified earnestness with which he everywhere, and even before his + +judges, insisted on his divine calling. To refute him here was really + +as impossible as to approve of his instinct-disintegrating influence. + +In view of this indissoluble conflict, when he had at last been brought + +before the forum of the Greek state, there was only one punishment + +demanded, namely exile; he might have been sped across the borders as + +something thoroughly enigmatical, irrubricable and inexplicable, and so + +posterity would have been quite unjustified in charging the Athenians + +with a deed of ignominy. But that the sentence of death, and not mere + +exile, was pronounced upon him, seems to have been brought about by + +Socrates himself, with perfect knowledge of the circumstances, and + +without the natural fear of death: he met his death with the calmness + +with which, according to the description of Plato, he leaves the + +symposium at break of day, as the last of the revellers, to begin a new + +day; while the sleepy companions remain behind on the benches and the + +floor, to dream of Socrates, the true eroticist. The dying Socrates + +became the new ideal of the noble Greek youths,—an ideal they had + +never yet beheld,—and above all, the typical Hellenic youth, Plato, + +prostrated himself before this scene with all the fervent devotion of + +his visionary soul.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[17] +

-

-CHAPTER XV -

+

-

-THERE IS A LOVER WAITING FOR HYACINTH -

+Woe! Woe!
-

-So the next morning before breakfast Wiggs went up on to the castle -walls and wished. She looked over the meadows, and across the -peaceful stream that wandered through them, to the forest where she -had met her fairy, and she gave a little sigh. "Good-bye, dancing," -she said; and then she held the ring up and went on bravely, "Please I -was a very good girl all yesterday, and I wish that Prince Udo may be -well again." -

+Thou hast it destroyed,
-

-For a full minute there was silence. Then from the direction of Udo's -room below there came these remarkable words: -

+The beautiful world;
-

-"Take the beastly stuff away, and bring me a beefsteak and a flagon -of sack!" -

+With powerful fist;
-

-Between smiles and tears Wiggs murmured, "He sounds all right. I -am g—glad." -

+In ruin 'tis hurled!
-

-And then she could bear it no longer. She hurried down and out of the -Palace—away, away from Udo and the Princess and the Countess and all -their talk, to the cool friendly forest, there to be alone and to -think over all that she had lost. -

+Faust, trans. of Bayard Taylor.—TR.
-

-It was very quiet in the forest. At the foot of her own favourite -tree, a veteran of many hundred summers who stood sentinel over an -open glade that dipped to a gurgling brook and climbed gently away -from it, she sat down. On the soft green yonder she might have -danced, an enchanted place, and now—never, never, never. . . . -

- -

-How long had she sat there? It must have been a long time—because -the forest had been so quiet, and now it was so full of sound. The -trees were murmuring something to her, and the birds were singing it, -and the brook was trying to tell it too, but it would keep chuckling -over the very idea so that you could hardly hear what it was saying, -and there were rustlings in the grass—"Get up, get up," everything -was calling to her; "dance, dance." -

- -

-She got up, a little frightened. Everything seemed so strangely -beautiful. She had never felt it like this before. Yes, she would -dance. She must say, "Thank you," for all this somehow; perhaps they -would excuse her if it was not very well expressed. -

- -

-"This will just be for 'Thank you'" she said as she got up. "I shall -never dance again." -

- -

- -[Illustration: And then she danced, verso] -[Illustration: And then she danced, recto] -

- -

-And then she danced. . . . -

- -

-Where are you, Hyacinth? There is a lover waiting for you somewhere, -my dear. -

- -

-It is the first of Spring. The blackbird opens his yellow beak, and -whistles cool and clear. There is blue magic in the morning; the sky, -deep-blue above, melts into white where it meets the hills. The wind -waits for you up yonder—will you go to meet it? Ah, stay here! The -hedges have put on their green coats for you; misty green are the tall -elms from which the rooks are chattering. Along the clean white road, -between the primrose banks, he comes. Will you be round this -corner?——or the next? He is looking for you, Hyacinth. -

- -

-(She rested, breathless, and then danced again.) -

- -

-It is summer afternoon. All the village is at rest save one. -"Cuck-oo!" comes from the deep dark trees; "Cuck-oo!" he calls again, -and flies away to send back the answer. The fields, all green and -gold, sleep undisturbed by the full river which creeps along them. -The air is heavy with the scent of may. Where are you, Hyacinth? Is -not this the trysting-place? I have waited for you so long! . . . -

- -

-She stopped, and the watcher in the bushes moved silently away, his -mind aflame with fancies. -

- -

-Wiggs went back to the Palace to tell everybody that she could dance. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-"Shall we tell her how it happened?" said Udo jauntily. "I just -recited a couple of lines—poetry, you know—backwards, and—well, -here I am!" -

- -

-"O——oh!" said Wiggs. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Belvane in an elaborate gown]

-

-CHAPTER XVI -

- -

-BELVANE ENJOYS HERSELF -

- -

-The entrance of an attendant into his room that morning to bring him -his early bran-mash had awakened Udo. As soon as she was gone he -jumped up, shook the straw from himself, and said in a very passion of -longing, -

- -

- Bo, boll, bill, bole.
- Wo, woll, will, wole.
-

- -

-He felt it was his last chance. Exhausted by his effort, he fell back -on the straw and dropped asleep again. It was nearly an hour later -that he became properly awake. -

- -

-Into his feelings I shall not enter at any length; I leave that to -Roger Scurvilegs. Between ourselves Roger is a bit of a snob. The -degradation to a Prince of Araby to be turned into an animal so -ludicrous, the delight of a Prince of Araby at regaining his own form, -it is this that he chiefly dwells upon. Really, I think you or I -would have been equally delighted. I am sure we can guess how Udo -felt about it. -

- -

-He strutted about the room, he gazed at himself in every glass, he -held out his hand to an imaginary Hyacinth with "Ah, dear Princess, -and how are we this morning?" Never had he felt so handsome and so -sure of himself. It was in the middle of one of his pirouettings, -that he caught sight of the unfortunate bran-mash, and uttered the -remarkable words which I have already recorded. -

- -

-The actual meeting with Hyacinth was even better than he had expected. -Hardly able to believe that it was true, she seized his hands -impulsively and cried: -

- -

-"Oh, Prince Udo! oh, my dear, I am so glad!" -

- -

-Udo twirled his moustache and felt a very gay dog indeed. -

- -

-At breakfast (where Udo did himself extremely well) they discussed -plans. The first thing was to summon the Countess into their -presence. An attendant was sent to fetch her. -

- -

-"If you would like me to conduct the interview," said Udo, "I've no -doubt that——" -

- -

-"I think I shall be all right now that you are with me. I shan't feel -so afraid of her now." -

- -

-The attendant came in again. -

- -

-"Her ladyship is not yet down, your Royal Highness." -

- -

-"Tell her that I wish to see her directly she is down," said the -Princess. -

- -

-The attendant withdrew. -

- -

-"You were telling me about this army of hers," said Udo. "One of my -ideas—I had a good many while I was—er—in retirement—was that she -could establish the army properly at her own expense, and that she -herself should be perpetual orderly-sergeant." -

- -

-"Isn't that a nice thing to be?" asked Hyacinth innocently. -

- -

-"It's a horrible thing to be. Another of my ideas was that——" -

- -

-The attendant came in again. -

- -

-"Her ladyship is a little indisposed, and is staying in bed for the -present." -

- -

-"Oh! Did her ladyship say when she thought of getting up?" -

- -

-"Her ladyship didn't seem to think of getting up at all to-day. Her -ladyship told me to say that she didn't seem to know when she'd get -up again." -

- -

-The attendant withdrew, and Hyacinth and Udo, standing together in a -corner, discussed the matter anxiously. -

- -

-"I don't quite see what we can do," said Hyacinth. "We can't pull -her out of bed. Besides, she may really be ill. Supposing she stays -there for ever!" -

- -

-"Of course," said Udo. "It would be rather——" -

- -

-"You see if we——" -

- -

-"We might possibly——" -

- -

-"Good morning, all!" said Belvane, sweeping into the room. She -dropped a profound curtsey to the Princess. "Your Royal Highness! -And dear Prince Udo, looking his own charming self again!" -

- -

-She had made a superb toilet. In her flowing gold brocade, cut square -in front to reveal the whitest of necks, with her black hair falling -in two braids to her knees and twined with pearls which were caught up -in loops at her waist, she looked indeed a Queen; while Hyacinth and -Udo, taken utterly by surprise, seemed to be two conspirators whom she -had caught in the act of plotting against her. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"I—I thought you weren't well, Countess," said Hyacinth, trying to -recover herself. -

- -

-"I not well?" cried Belvane, clasping her hands to her breast. "I -thought it was his Royal Highness who—— Ah, but he's looking a true -Prince now." -

- -

-She turned her eyes upon him, and there was in that look so much of -admiration, humour, appeal, impudence—I don't know what (and Roger -cannot tell us, either)—that Udo forgot entirely what he was going to -say and could only gaze at her in wonder. -

- -

-Her mere entry dazzled him. There is no knowing with a woman like -Belvane; and I believe she had purposely kept herself plain during -these last few days so that she might have the weapon of her beauty to -fall back upon in case anything went wrong. Things had indeed gone -wrong; Udo had become a man again; and it was against the man that -this last weapon was directed. -

- -

-Udo himself was only too ready. The fact that he was once more -attractive to women meant as much as anything to him. To have been -attractive to Hyacinth would have contented most of us, but Udo felt a -little uncomfortable with her. He could not forget the last few days, -nor the fact that he had once been an object of pity to her. Now -Belvane had not pitied him. -

- -

-Hyacinth had got control of herself by this time. -

- -

-"Enough of this, Countess," she said with dignity. "We have not -forgotten the treason which you were plotting against the State; we -have not forgotten your base attack upon our guest, Prince Udo. I -order you now to remain within the confines of the Palace until we -shall have decided what to do with you. You may leave us." -

- -

-Belvane dropped her eyes meekly. -

- -

-"I am at your Royal Highness's commands. I shall be in my garden when -your Royal Highness wants me." -

- -

-She raised her eyes, gave one fleeting glance to Prince Udo, and -withdrew. -

- -

-"A hateful woman," said Hyacinth. "What shall we do with her?" -

- -

-"I think," said Udo, "that I had better speak to her seriously first. -I have no doubt that I can drag from her the truth of her conspiracy -against you. There may be others in it, in which case we shall have -to proceed with caution; on the other hand, it may be just misplaced -zeal on her part, in which case——" -

- -

-"Was it misplaced zeal which made her turn you into a——?" -

- -

-Udo held up his hand hastily. -

- -

-"I have not forgotten that," he said. "Be sure that I shall exact -full reparation. Let me see; which is the way to her garden?" -

- -

-Hyacinth did not know quite what to make of her guest. At the moment -when she first saw him in his proper form the improvement on his late -appearance had been so marked that he had seemed almost the handsome -young Prince of her dreams. Every minute after that had detracted -from him. His face was too heavy, his manner was too pompous; one of -these days he would be too fat. -

- -

-Moreover he was just a little too sure of his position in her house. -She had wanted his help, but she did not want so much of it as she -seemed to be likely to get. -

- -

-Udo, feeling that it was going to be rather a nice day, went into -Belvane's garden. He had been there once before; it seemed to him a -very much prettier garden this morning, and the woman who was again -awaiting him much more desirable. -

- -

-Belvane made room for him on the seat next to her. -

- -

-"This is where I sit when I write my poetry," she said. "I don't know -if your Royal Highness is fond of poetry?" -

- -

-"Extremely," said Udo. "I have never actually written any or indeed -read much, but I have a great admiration for those who—er—admire it. -But it was not to talk about poetry that I came out here, Countess." -

- -

-"No?" said Belvane. "But your Royal Highness must have read the works -of Sacharino, the famous bard of Araby?" -

- -

-"Sacharino, of course. 'Blood for something, something——He who -something——' I mean, it's a delightful little thing. Everybody -knows it. But it was to talk about something very different that -I——" -

- -

- "Blood for blood and shoon for shoon,
-  He who runs may read my rune,"
-

- -

-quoted Belvane softly. "It is perhaps Sacharino's most perfect gem." -

- -

-"That's it," cried Udo excitedly. "I knew I knew it, if only I -could——" He broke off suddenly, remembering the circumstances in -which he had wanted it. He coughed importantly and explained for the -third time that he had not come to talk to her about poetry. -

- -

-"But of course I think his most noble poem of all," went on Belvane, -apparently misunderstanding him, "is the ode to your Royal Highness -upon your coming-of-age. Let me see, how does it begin? -

- -

- "Prince Udo, so dashing and bold,
-  Is apparently eighteen years old.
-      It is eighteen years since
-      This wonderful Prince
-  Was born in the Palace, I'm told."
-

- -

-"These Court Poets," said Udo, with an air of unconcern, "flatter one, -of course." -

- -

-If he expected a compliment he was disappointed. -

- -

-"There I cannot judge," said Belvane, "until I know your Royal -Highness better." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. -"Is your Royal Highness very—dashing?" -

- -

-"I—er—well—er—one—that is to say." He waded on uncomfortably, -feeling less dashing every moment. He should have realised at once -that it was an impossible question to answer. -

- -

-"Your Royal Highness," said Belvane modestly, "must not be too dashing -with us poor Euralians." -

- -

-For the fourth time Udo explained that he had come there to speak to -her severely, and that Belvane seemed to have mistaken his purpose. -

- -

-"Oh, forgive me, Prince Udo," she begged. "I quite thought that you -had come out to commune soul to soul with a fellow-lover of the -beautiful." -

- -

-"N—no," said Udo; "not exactly." -

- -

-"Then what is it?" she cried, clasping her hands eagerly together. "I -know it will be something exciting." -

- -

-Udo stood up. He felt that he could be more severe a little farther -off. He moved a few yards away, and then turned round towards her, -resting his elbow on the sundial. -

- -

-"Countess," he began sternly, "ten days ago, as I was starting on my -journey hither, I was suddenly——" -

- -

-"Just a moment," said Belvane, whispering eagerly to herself rather -than to him, and she jumped up with a cushion from the seat where she -was sitting, and ran across and arranged it under his elbow. "He -would have been so uncomfortable," she murmured, and she hurried -back to her seat again and sat down and gazed at him, with her elbows -on her knees and her chin resting on her hands. "Now go on telling -me," she said breathlessly. -

- -

-Udo opened his mouth with the obvious intention of obeying her, but no -words came. He seemed to have lost the thread of his argument. He -felt a perfect fool, stuck up there with his elbow on a cushion, just -as if he were addressing a public meeting. He looked at his elbow as -if he expected to find a glass of water there ready, and Belvane -divined his look and made a movement as if she were about to get it -for him. It would be just like her. He flung the cushion from him -("Oh, mind my roses," cried Belvane) and came down angrily to her. -Belvane looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. -

- -

-"You—you—oh, don't look like that!" -

- -

-"Like that?" said Belvane, looking like it again. -

- -

-"Don't do it," shouted Udo, and he turned and kicked the cushion -down the flagged path. "Stop it." -

- -

-Belvane stopped it. -

- -

-"Do you know," she said, "I'm rather frightened of you when you're -angry with me." -

- -

-"I am angry. Very, very angry. Excessively annoyed." -

- -

-"I thought you were," she sighed. -

- -

-"And you know very well why." -

- -

-She nodded her head at him. -

- -

-"It's my dreadful temper," she said. "I do such thoughtless things -when I lose my temper." -

- -

-She sighed again and looked meekly at the ground. -

- -

-"Er, well, you shouldn't," said Udo weakly. -

- -

-"It was the slight to my sex that made me so angry. I couldn't bear -to think that we women couldn't rule ourselves for such a short time, -and that a man had to be called in to help us." She looked up at him -shyly. "Of course I didn't know then what the man was going to be -like. But now that I know——" -

- -

-Suddenly she held her arms out to him beseechingly. -

- -

-"Stay with us, Prince Udo, and help us! Men are so wise, so brave, -so—so generous. They know nothing of the little petty feelings of -revenge that women indulge." -

- -

-"Really, Countess, we—er—you—er—— Of course there is a good deal -in what you say, and I—er——" -

- -

-"Won't you sit down again, Prince Udo?" -

- -

-Udo sat down next to her. -

- -

-"And now," said Belvane, "let's talk it over comfortably as friends -should." -

- -

-"Of course," began Udo, "I quite see your point. You hadn't seen me; -you didn't know anything about me; to you I might have been just any -man." -

- -

-"I knew a little about you when you came here. Beneath -the—er—outward mask I saw how brave and dignified you were. But -even if I could have got you back into your proper form again, I think -I should have been afraid to; because I didn't know then how generous, -how forgiving you were." -

- -

-It seemed to be quite decided that Udo was forgiving her. When a very -beautiful woman thanks you humbly for something you have not yet given -her, there is only one thing for a gentleman to do. Udo patted her -hand reassuringly. -

- -

-"Oh, thank you, your Royal Highness." She gave herself a little shake -and jumped up. "And now shall I show you my beautiful garden?" -

- -

-"A garden with you in it, dear Countess, is always beautiful," he said -gallantly. And it was not bad, I think, for a man who had been living -on watercress and bran-mash only the day before. -

- -

-They wandered round the garden together. Udo was now quite certain it -was going to be a nice day. -

- -

-It was an hour later when he came into the library. Hyacinth greeted -him eagerly. -

- -

-"Well?" she said. -

- -

-Udo nodded his head wisely. -

- -

-"I have spoken to her about her conduct to me," he said. "There will -be no more trouble in that direction, I fancy. She explained her -conduct to me very fully, and I have decided to overlook it this -time." -

- -

-"But her robberies, her plots, her conspiracy against me!" -

- -

-Udo looked blankly at her for a moment and then pulled himself -together. -

- -

-"I am speaking to her about that this afternoon," he said. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of the King of Barodia] + + +

[Pg 107]

+ + + + + + + +

14.

+ + + + + +

Let us now imagine the one great Cyclopean eye of Socrates fixed on + +tragedy, that eye in which the fine frenzy of artistic enthusiasm had + +never glowed—let us think how it was denied to this eye to gaze with + +pleasure into the Dionysian abysses—what could it not but see in the + +"sublime and greatly lauded" tragic art, as Plato called it? Something + +very absurd, with causes that seemed to be without effects, and + +effects apparently without causes; the whole, moreover, so motley and + +diversified that it could not but be repugnant to a thoughtful mind, a + +dangerous incentive, however, to sensitive and irritable souls. We know + +what was the sole kind of poetry which he comprehended: the Æsopian + +fable: and he did this no doubt with that smiling complaisance with + +which the good honest Gellert sings the praise of poetry in the fable + +of the bee and the hen:—

+ + + +

+ +"Du siehst an mir, wozu sie nützt,
+ +Dem, der nicht viel Verstand besitzt,
+ +Die Wahrheit durch ein Bild zu sagen."[18]
+

-

-CHAPTER XVII -

- -

-THE KING OF BARODIA DROPS THE WHISKER HABIT -

- -

-King Merriwig sat in his tent, his head held well back, his eyes -gazing upwards. His rubicund cheeks were for the moment a snowy -white. A hind of the name of Carlo had him firmly by the nose. Yet -King Merriwig neither struggled nor protested; he was, in fact, being -shaved. -

- -

-The Court Barber was in his usual conversational mood. He released -his Majesty's nose for a moment, and, as he turned to sharpen his -razor, remarked, -

- -

-"Terrible war, this." -

- -

-"Terrible," agreed the King. -

- -

-"Don't seem no end to it, like." -

- -

-"Well, well," said Merriwig, "we shall see." -

- -

-The barber got to work again. -

- -

-"Do you know what I should do to the King of Barodia if I had him -here?" -

- -

-Merriwig did not dare to speak, but he indicated with his right eye -that he was interested in the conversation. -

- -

-"I'd shave his whiskers off," said Carlo firmly. -

- -

-The King gave a sudden jerk, and for the moment there were signs of a -battle upon the snow; then the King leant back again, and in another -minute or so the operation was over. -

- -

-"It will soon be all right," said Carlo, mopping at his Majesty's -chin. "Your Majesty shouldn't have moved." -

- -

-"It was my own fault, Carlo; you gave me a sudden idea, that's all." -

- -

-"You're welcome, your Majesty." -

- -

-As soon as he was alone the King took out his tablets. On these he -was accustomed to record any great thoughts which occurred to him -during the day. He now wrote in them these noble words: -

- -

-"Jewels of wisdom may fall from the meanest of hinds." -

- -

-He struck a gong to summon the Chancellor into his presence. -

- -

-"I have a great idea," he told the Chancellor. -

- -

-The Chancellor hid his surprise and expressed his pleasure. -

- -

-"To-night I propose to pay a secret visit to his Majesty the King of -Barodia. Which of the many tents yonder have my spies located as the -royal one?" -

- -

-"The big on in the centre, above which the Royal Arms fly." -

- -

-"I thought as much. Indeed I have often seen his Majesty entering it. -But one prefers to do these things according to custom. Acting on -the information given me by my trusty spies, I propose to enter the -King of Barodia's tent at the dead of night, and——" -

- -

-The Chancellor shuddered in anticipation. -

- -

-"And shave his whiskers off." -

- -

-The Chancellor trembled with delight. -

- -

-"Your Majesty," he said in a quavering voice, "forty years, man and -boy, have I served your Majesty, and your Majesty's late lamented -father, and never have I heard such a beautiful plan." -

- -

-Merriwig struggled with himself for a moment, but his natural honesty -was too much for him. -

- -

-"It was put into my head by a remark of my Court Barber's," he said -casually. "But of course the actual working out of it has been mine." -

- -

-"Jewels of wisdom," said the Chancellor sententiously, "may fall from -the meanest of hinds." -

- -

-"I suppose," said Merriwig, taking up his tablets and absently -scratching out the words written thereon, "there is nothing in the -rules against it?" -

- -

-"By no means, your Majesty. In the annuals of Euralia there are many -instances of humour similar to that which your Majesty suggests: -humour, if I may say so, which, while evidencing to the ignorant only -the lighter side of war, has its roots in the most fundamental -strategical considerations." -

- -

-Merriwig regarded him with admiration. This was indeed a Chancellor. -

- -

-"The very words," he answered, "which I said to myself when the idea -came to me. 'The fact,' I said, 'that this will help us to win the -war, must not disguise from us the fact that the King of Barodia will -look extremely funny without his whiskers.' To-night I shall sally -forth and put my plan into practice." -

- -

-At midnight, then, he started out. The Chancellor awaited his return -with some anxiety. This might well turn out to be the decisive stroke -(or strokes) of the war. For centuries past the ruling monarchs of -Barodia had been famous for their ginger whiskers. "As lost as the -King of Barodia without his whiskers" was indeed a proverb of those -times. A King without a pair, and at such a crisis in his country's -fortunes! It was inconceivable. At the least he would have to live -in retirement until they grew again, and without the leadership of -their King the Barodian army would become a rabble. -

- -

-The Chancellor was not distressed at the thought; he was looking -forward to his return to Euralia, where he kept a comfortable house. -It was not that his life in the field was uninteresting; he had as -much work to do as any man. It was part of his business, for -instance, to test the pretentions of any new wizard or spell-monger -who was brought into the camp. Such and such a quack would seek an -interview on the pretext that for five hundred crowns he could turn -the King of Barodia into a small black pig. He would be brought -before the Chancellor. -

- -

-"You say that you can turn a man into a small black pig?" the -Chancellor would ask. -

- -

-"Yes, your lordship. It came to me from my grandmother." -

- -

-"Then turn me," the Chancellor would say simply. -

- -

-The so-called wizard would try. As soon as the incantation was over, -the Chancellor surveyed himself in the mirror. Then he nodded to a -couple of soldiers, and the impostor was tied backwards on to a mule -and driven with jeers out of the camp. There were many such impostors -(who at least made a mule out of it), and the Chancellor's life did -not lack excitement. -

- -

-But he yearned now for the simple comforts of his home. He liked -pottering about his garden, when his work at the Palace was finished; -he liked, over the last meal of the day, to tell his wife all the -important things he had been doing since he had seen her, and to -impress her with the fact that he was the holder of many state secrets -which she must not attempt to drag from him. A woman of less tact -would have considered the subject closed at this point, but she knew -that he was only longing to be persuaded. However, as she always -found the secrets too dull to tell any one else, no great harm was -done. -

- -

-"Just help me off with this cloak," said a voice in front of him. -

- -

-The Chancellor felt about until his hands encountered a solid body. -He undid the cloak and the King stood revealed before him. -

- -

-"Thanks. Well, I've done it. It went to my heart to do it at the -last moment, so beautiful they were, but I nerved myself to it. Poor -soul, he slept like a lamb through it all. I wonder what he'll say -when he wakes up." -

- -

-"Did you bring them back with you?" asked the Chancellor excitedly. -

- -

-"My dear Chancellor, what a question!" He produced them from his -pocket. "In the morning we'll run them up on the flagstaff for all -Barodia to see." -

- -

-"He won't like that," said the Chancellor, chuckling. -

- -

-"I don't quite see what he can do about it," said Merriwig. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-The King of Barodia didn't quite see either. -

- -

-A fit of sneezing woke him up that morning, and at the same moment he -felt a curious draught about his cheeks. He put his hand up and -immediately knew the worst. -

- -

-"Hullo, there!" he bellowed to the sentry outside the door. -

- -

-"Your Majesty," said the sentry, coming in with alacrity. -

- -

- -[Illustration: The tent seemed to swim before his eyes, and he knew - no more, verso] -[Illustration: The tent seemed to swim before his eyes, and he knew - no more, recto] -

- -

-The King bobbed down again at once. -

- -

-"Send the Chancellor to me," said an angry voice from under the -bedclothes. -

- -

-When the Chancellor came in it was to see the back only of his august -monarch. -

- -

-"Chancellor," said the King, "prepare yourself for a shock." -

- -

-"Yes, sir," said the Chancellor, trembling exceedingly. -

- -

-"You are about to see something which no man in the history of Barodia -has ever seen before." -

- -

-The Chancellor, not having the least idea what to expect, waited -nervously. The next moment the tent seemed to swim before his eyes, -and he knew no more. . . . -

- -

-When he came to, the King was pouring a jug of water down his neck and -murmuring rough words of comfort in his ear. -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty," said the poor Chancellor, "your Majesty! I don't -know what to say, your Majesty." He mopped at himself as he spoke, -and the water trickled from him on to the floor. -

- -

-"Pull yourself together," said the King sternly. "We shall want all -your wisdom, which is notoriously not much, to help us in this -crisis." -

- -

-"Your Majesty, who has dared to do this grievous thing?" -

- -

-"You fool, how should I know? Do you think they did it while I was -awake?" -

- -

-The Chancellor stiffened a little. He was accustomed to being called -a fool; but that was by a man with a terrifying pair of ginger -whiskers. From the rather fat and uninspiring face in front of him he -was inclined to resent it. -

- -

-"What does your Majesty propose to do?" he asked shortly. -

- -

-"I propose to do the following. Upon you rests the chief burden." -

- -

-The Chancellor did not look surprised. -

- -

-"It will be your part to break the news as gently as possible to my -people. You will begin by saying that I am busy with a great -enchanter who has called to see me, and that therefore I am unable to -show myself to my people this morning. Later on in the day you will -announce that the enchanter has shown me how to defeat the wicked -Euralians; you will dwell upon the fact that this victory, as assured -by him, involves an overwhelming sacrifice on my part, but that for -the good of my people I am willing to endure it. Then you will -solemnly announce that the sacrifice I am making, have indeed already -made, is nothing less than—— What are all those fools cheering for -out there?" A mighty roar of laughter rose to the sky. "Here, what's -it all about? Just go and look." -

- -

-The Chancellor went to the door of the tent—and saw. -

- -

-He came back to the King, striving to speak casually. -

- -

-"Just a humorous emblem that the Euralians have raised over their -camp," he said. "It wouldn't amuse your Majesty." -

- -

-"I am hardly in a mood for joking," said the King. "Let us return to -business. As I was saying, you will announce to the people that the -enormous sacrifice which their King is prepared to make for them -consists of— There they go again. I must really see what it is. -Just pull the door back so that I may see without being seen." -

- -

-"It—it really wouldn't amuse your Majesty." -

- -

-"Are you implying that I have no sense of humour?" said the King -sternly. -

- -

-"Oh, no, sire, but there are certain jokes, jokes in the poorest of -taste, that would naturally not appeal to so delicate a palate as your -Majesty's. This—er—strikes me as one of them." -

- -

-"Of that I am the best judge," said the King coldly. "Open the door -at once." -

- -

-The Chancellor opened the door; and there before the King's eyes, -flaunting themselves in the breeze beneath the Royal Standard of -Euralia, waved his own beloved whiskers. -

- -

-The King of Barodia was not a lovable man, and his daughters were -decidedly plain, but there are moments when one cannot help admiring -him. This was one of them. -

- -

-"You may shut the door," he said to the Chancellor. "The instructions -which I gave to you just now," he went on in the same cold voice, "are -cancelled. Let me think for a moment." He began to walk up and down -his apartment. "You may think, too," he added kindly. "If you have -anything not entirely senseless to suggest, you may suggest it." -

- -

-He continued his pacings. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. He was -standing in front of a large mirror. For the first time since he was -seventeen he had seen his face without whiskers. His eyes still fixed -on his reflection, he beckoned the Chancellor to approach. -

- -

-"Come here," he said, clutching him by the arm. "You see that?" He -pointed to the reflection. "That is what I look like? The mirror -hasn't made a mistake of any kind? That is really and truly what I -look like?" -

- -

-"Yes, sire." -

- -

-For a little while the King continued to gaze fascinated at his -reflection, and then he turned on the Chancellor. -

- -

-"You coward!" he said. "You weak-kneed, jelly-souled, paper-livered -imitation of a man! You cringe to a King who looks like that! Why, -you ought to kick me." -

- -

-The Chancellor remembered that he had one kick owing to him. He drew -back his foot, and then a thought occurred to him. -

- -

-"You might kick me back," he pointed out. -

- -

-"I certainly should," said the King. -

- -

-The Chancellor hesitated a moment. -

- -

-"I think," he said, "that these private quarrels in the face of the -common enemy are to be deplored." -

- -

-The King looked at him, gave a short laugh, and went on walking up and -down. -

- -

-"That face again," he sighed as he came opposite the mirror. "No, -it's no good; I can never be King like this. I shall abdicate." -

- -

-"But, your Majesty, this is a very terrible decision. Could not your -Majesty live in retirement until your Majesty had grown your Majesty's -whiskers again? Surely this is——" -

- -

-The King came to a stand opposite him and looked down on him gravely. -

- -

-"Chancellor," he said, "those whiskers which you have just seen -fluttering in the breeze have been for more than forty years my curse. -For more than forty years I have had to live up to those whiskers, -behaving, not as my temperament, which is a kindly, indeed a genial -one, bade me to behave, but as those whiskers insisted I should -behave. Arrogant, hasty-tempered, over-bearing—these are the -qualities which have been demanded of the owner of those whiskers. I -played a part which was difficult at first; of late, it has, alas! -been more easy. Yet it has never been my true nature that you have -seen." -

- -

-He paused and looked silently at himself in the glass. -

- -

-"But, your Majesty," said the Chancellor eagerly, "why choose this -moment to abdicate? Think how your country will welcome this new King -whom you have just revealed to me. And yet," he added regretfully, -"it would not be quite the same." -

- -

-The King turned round to him. -

- -

-"There spoke a true Barodian," he said. "It would not be the same. -Barodians have come to expect certain qualities from their rulers, and -they would be lost without them. A new King might accustom them to -other ways, but they are used to me, and they would not like me -different. No, Chancellor, I shall abdicate. Do not wear so sad a -face for me. I am looking forward to my new life with the greatest of -joy." -

- -

-The Chancellor was not looking sad for him; he was looking sad for -himself, thinking that perhaps a new King might like changes in -Chancellors equally with changes in manners or whiskers. -

- -

-"But what will you do?" he asked. -

- -

-"I shall be a simple subject of the new King, earning my living by my -own toil." -

- -

-The Chancellor raised his eyebrows at this. -

- -

-"I suppose you think," said the King haughtily, "that I have not the -intelligence to earn my own living." -

- -

-The Chancellor with a cough remarked that the very distinguished -qualities which made an excellent King did not always imply the -corresponding—er—and so on. -

- -

-"That shows how little you know about it. Just to give one example. -I happen to know that I have in me the makings of an excellent -swineherd." -

- -

-"A swineherd?" -

- -

-"The man who—er—herds the swine. It may surprise you to hear that, -posing as a swineherd, I have conversed with another of the profession -upon his own subject, without his suspecting the truth. It is just -such a busy outdoor life as I should enjoy. One herds and one milks, -and one milks, and—er—herds, and so it goes on day after day." A -happy smile, the first the Chancellor had ever seen there, spread -itself over his features. He clapped the Chancellor playfully on the -back and added, "I shall simply love it." -

- -

-The Chancellor was amazed. What a story for his dinner-parties when -the war was over! -

- -

-"How will you announce it?" he asked, and his tone struck a happy mean -between the tones in which you address a monarch and a pig-minder -respectively. -

- -

-"That will be your duty. Now that I have shaken off the curse of -those whiskers, I am no longer a proud man, but even a swineherd would -not care for it to get about that he had been forcibly shaved while -sleeping. That this should be the last incident recorded of me in -Barodian history is unbearable. You will announce therefore that I -have been slain in fair combat, though at the dead of night, by the -King of Euralia, and that my whiskers fly over his royal tent as a -symbol of his victory." He winked at the Chancellor and added, "It -might as well get about that some one had stolen my Magic Sword that -evening." -

- -

-The Chancellor was speechless with admiration and approval of the -plan. Like his brother of Euralia, he too was longing to get home -again. The war had arisen over a personal insult to the King. If the -King was no longer King, why should the war go on? -

- -

-"I think," said the future swineherd, "that I shall send a Note over -to the King of Euralia, telling him my decision. To-night, when it is -dark, I shall steal away and begin my new life. There seems to be no -reason why the people should not go back to their homes to-morrow. By -the way, that guard outside there knows that I wasn't killed last -night; that's rather awkward." -

- -

-"I think," said the Chancellor, who was already picturing his return -home, and was not going to be done out of it by a common sentry, "I -think I could persuade him that you were killed last night." -

- -

-"Oh, well, then, that's all right." He drew a ring from his finger. -"Perhaps this will help him to be persuaded. Now leave me while I -write to the King of Euralia." -

- -

-It was a letter which Merriwig was decidedly glad to get. It announced -bluntly that the war was over, and added that the King of Barodia -proposed to abdicate. His son would rule in his stead, but he was a -harmless fool, and the King of Euralia need not bother about him. The -King would be much obliged if he would let it get about that the -whiskers had been won in a fair fight; this would really be more to -the credit of both of them. Personally he was glad to be rid of the -things, but one has one's dignity. He was now retiring into private -life, and if it were rumoured abroad that he had been killed by the -King of Euralia matters would be much more easy to arrange. -

- -

-Merriwig slept late after his long night abroad, and he found this -Note waiting for him when he awoke. He summoned the Chancellor at -once. -

- -

-"What have you done about those—er—trophies?" he asked. -

- -

-"They are fluttering from your flagstaff, sire, at this moment." -

- -

-"Ah! And what do my people say?" -

- -

-"They are roaring with laughter, sire, at the whimsical nature of the -jest." -

- -

-"Yes, but what do they say?" -

- -

-"Some say that your Majesty, with great cunning, ventured privily in -the night and cut them off while he slept; others, that with great -bravery you defeated him in mortal combat and carried them away as the -spoils of the victor." -

- -

-"Oh! And what did you say?" -

- -

-The Chancellor looked reproachful. -

- -

-"Naturally, your Majesty, I have not spoken with them." -

- -

-"Ah, well, I have been thinking it over in the night, and I remember -now that I did kill him. You understand?" -

- -

-"Your Majesty's skill in sword play will be much appreciated by the -people." -

- -

-"Quite so," said the King hastily. "Well, that's all—I'm getting up -now. And we're all going home to-morrow." -

- -

-The Chancellor went out, rubbing his hands with delight. -

- -

-[Illustration: Small picture of a thin man carrying a large sack] + + +

But then it seemed to Socrates that tragic art did not even "tell the + +truth": not to mention the fact that it addresses itself to him who + +"hath but little wit"; consequently not to the philosopher: a twofold + +reason why it should be avoided. Like[Pg 108] Plato, he reckoned it among the + +seductive arts which only represent the agreeable, not the useful, and + +hence he required of his disciples abstinence and strict separation + +from such unphilosophical allurements; with such success that the + +youthful tragic poet Plato first of all burned his poems to be able to + +become a scholar of Socrates. But where unconquerable native capacities + +bore up against the Socratic maxims, their power, together with the + +momentum of his mighty character, still sufficed to force poetry itself + +into new and hitherto unknown channels.

+ + + +

An instance of this is the aforesaid Plato: he, who in the condemnation + +of tragedy and of art in general certainly did not fall short of + +the naïve cynicism of his master, was nevertheless constrained by + +sheer artistic necessity to create a form of art which is inwardly + +related even to the then existing forms of art which he repudiated. + +Plato's main objection to the old art—that it is the imitation of + +a phantom,[19] and hence belongs to a sphere still lower than the + +empiric world—could not at all apply to the new art: and so we find + +Plato endeavouring to go beyond reality and attempting to represent + +the idea which underlies this pseudo-reality. But Plato, the thinker, + +thereby arrived by a roundabout road just at the point where he had + +always been at home as poet, and from which Sophocles and all the old + +artists had solemnly protested against that objection. If tragedy + +absorbed into itself all the[Pg 109] earlier varieties of art, the same + +could again be said in an unusual sense of Platonic dialogue, which, + +engendered by a mixture of all the then existing forms and styles, + +hovers midway between narrative, lyric and drama, between prose and + +poetry, and has also thereby broken loose from the older strict law + +of unity of linguistic form; a movement which was carried still + +farther by the cynic writers, who in the most promiscuous style, + +oscillating to and fro betwixt prose and metrical forms, realised also + +the literary picture of the "raving Socrates" whom they were wont to + +represent in life. Platonic dialogue was as it were the boat in which + +the shipwrecked ancient poetry saved herself together with all her + +children: crowded into a narrow space and timidly obsequious to the + +one steersman, Socrates, they now launched into a new world, which + +never tired of looking at the fantastic spectacle of this procession. + +In very truth, Plato has given to all posterity the prototype of a new + +form of art, the prototype of the novel which must be designated as + +the infinitely evolved Æsopian fable, in which poetry holds the same + +rank with reference to dialectic philosophy as this same philosophy + +held for many centuries with reference to theology: namely, the rank of + +ancilla. This was the new position of poetry into which Plato forced + +it under the pressure of the demon-inspired Socrates.

+ + + +

Here philosophic thought overgrows art and compels it to cling close + +to the trunk of dialectics. The Apollonian tendency has chrysalised + +in the logical schematism; just as something analogous[Pg 110] in the case + +of Euripides (and moreover a translation of the Dionysian into the + +naturalistic emotion) was forced upon our attention. Socrates, the + +dialectical hero in Platonic drama, reminds us of the kindred nature + +of the Euripidean hero, who has to defend his actions by arguments and + +counter-arguments, and thereby so often runs the risk of forfeiting + +our tragic pity; for who could mistake the optimistic element + +in the essence of dialectics, which celebrates a jubilee in every + +conclusion, and can breathe only in cool clearness and consciousness: + +the optimistic element, which, having once forced its way into tragedy, + +must gradually overgrow its Dionysian regions, and necessarily impel it + +to self-destruction—even to the death-leap into the bourgeois drama. + +Let us but realise the consequences of the Socratic maxims: "Virtue is + +knowledge; man only sins from ignorance; he who is virtuous is happy": + +these three fundamental forms of optimism involve the death of tragedy. + +For the virtuous hero must now be a dialectician; there must now be a + +necessary, visible connection between virtue and knowledge, between + +belief and morality; the transcendental justice of the plot in Æschylus + +is now degraded to the superficial and audacious principle of poetic + +justice with its usual deus ex machina.

+ + + +

How does the chorus, and, in general, the entire Dionyso-musical + +substratum of tragedy, now appear in the light of this new + +Socrato-optimistic stage-world? As something accidental, as a readily + +dispensable reminiscence of the origin[Pg 111] of tragedy; while we have + +in fact seen that the chorus can be understood only as the cause of + +tragedy, and of the tragic generally. This perplexity with respect to + +the chorus first manifests itself in Sophocles—an important sign that + +the Dionysian basis of tragedy already begins to disintegrate with + +him. He no longer ventures to entrust to the chorus the main share + +of the effect, but limits its sphere to such an extent that it now + +appears almost co-ordinate with the actors, just as if it were elevated + +from the orchestra into the scene: whereby of course its character + +is completely destroyed, notwithstanding that Aristotle countenances + +this very theory of the chorus. This alteration of the position of + +the chorus, which Sophocles at any rate recommended by his practice, + +and, according to tradition, even by a treatise, is the first step + +towards the annihilation of the chorus, the phases of which follow + +one another with alarming rapidity in Euripides, Agathon, and the New + +Comedy. Optimistic dialectics drives, music out of tragedy with the + +scourge of its syllogisms: that is, it destroys the essence of tragedy, + +which can be explained only as a manifestation and illustration of + +Dionysian states, as the visible symbolisation of music, as the + +dream-world of Dionysian ecstasy.

+ + + +

If, therefore, we are to assume an anti-Dionysian tendency operating + +even before Socrates, which received in him only an unprecedentedly + +grand expression, we must not shrink from the question as to what + +a phenomenon like that of Socrates indicates: whom in view of the[Pg 112] + +Platonic dialogues we are certainly not entitled to regard as a purely + +disintegrating, negative power. And though there can be no doubt + +whatever that the most immediate effect of the Socratic impulse tended + +to the dissolution of Dionysian tragedy, yet a profound experience of + +Socrates' own life compels us to ask whether there is necessarily + +only an antipodal relation between Socratism and art, and whether the + +birth of an "artistic Socrates" is in general something contradictory + +in itself.

+ + + +

For that despotic logician had now and then the feeling of a gap, or + +void, a sentiment of semi-reproach, as of a possibly neglected duty + +with respect to art. There often came to him, as he tells his friends + +in prison, one and the same dream-apparition, which kept constantly + +repeating to him: "Socrates, practise music." Up to his very last days + +he solaces himself with the opinion that his philosophising is the + +highest form of poetry, and finds it hard to believe that a deity will + +remind him of the "common, popular music." Finally, when in prison, + +he consents to practise also this despised music, in order thoroughly + +to unburden his conscience. And in this frame of mind he composes + +a poem on Apollo and turns a few Æsopian fables into verse. It was + +something similar to the demonian warning voice which urged him to + +these practices; it was because of his Apollonian insight that, like a + +barbaric king, he did not understand the noble image of a god and was + +in danger of sinning against a deity—through ignorance. The prompting + +voice of the Socratic[Pg 113] dream-vision is the only sign of doubtfulness + +as to the limits of logical nature. "Perhaps "—thus he had to ask + +himself—"what is not intelligible to me is not therefore unreasonable? + +Perhaps there is a realm of wisdom from which the logician is banished? + +Perhaps art is even a necessary correlative of and supplement to + +science?"

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[18] +

-


+

+ +In me thou seest its benefit,—
+ +To him who hath but little wit,
+ +Through parables to tell the truth.
+ +

+ + + +
+ + + +

[19] Scheinbild = ειδολον.—TR.

+ + + + + + + +

15.

+ + + + + +

In the sense of these last portentous questions it must now be + +indicated how the influence of Socrates (extending to the present + +moment, indeed, to all futurity) has spread over posterity like an + +ever-increasing shadow in the evening sun, and how this influence + +again and again necessitates a regeneration of art,—yea, of art + +already with metaphysical, broadest and profoundest sense,—and its own + +eternity guarantees also the eternity of art.

+ + + +

Before this could be perceived, before the intrinsic dependence of + +every art on the Greeks, the Greeks from Homer to Socrates, was + +conclusively demonstrated, it had to happen to us with regard to these + +Greeks as it happened to the Athenians with regard to Socrates. Nearly + +every age and stage of culture has at some time or other sought with + +deep displeasure to free itself from the Greeks, because in their + +presence everything self-achieved, sincerely admired and apparently + +quite original, seemed all of a sudden to lose life and colour + +and shrink to an abortive copy, even to caricature. And so hearty + +indignation breaks forth time after time against[Pg 114] this presumptuous + +little nation, which dared to designate as "barbaric" for all time + +everything not native: who are they, one asks one's self, who, though + +they possessed only an ephemeral historical splendour, ridiculously + +restricted institutions, a dubious excellence in their customs, and + +were even branded with ugly vices, yet lay claim to the dignity and + +singular position among the peoples to which genius is entitled among + +the masses. What a pity one has not been so fortunate as to find the + +cup of hemlock with which such an affair could be disposed of without + +ado: for all the poison which envy, calumny, and rankling resentment + +engendered within themselves have not sufficed to destroy that + +self-sufficient grandeur! And so one feels ashamed and afraid in the + +presence of the Greeks: unless one prize truth above all things, and + +dare also to acknowledge to one's self this truth, that the Greeks, + +as charioteers, hold in their hands the reins of our own and of + +every culture, but that almost always chariot and horses are of too + +poor material and incommensurate with the glory of their guides, who + +then will deem it sport to run such a team into an abyss: which they + +themselves clear with the leap of Achilles.

+ + + +

In order to assign also to Socrates the dignity of such a leading + +position, it will suffice to recognise in him the type of an unheard-of + +form of existence, the type of the theoretical man, with regard + +to whose meaning and purpose it will be our next task to attain + +an insight. Like the artist, the theorist also finds an infinite + +satisfaction in[Pg 115] what is and, like the former, he is shielded by this + +satisfaction from the practical ethics of pessimism with its lynx eyes + +which shine only in the dark. For if the artist in every unveiling + +of truth always cleaves with raptured eyes only to that which still + +remains veiled after the unveiling, the theoretical man, on the other + +hand, enjoys and contents himself with the cast-off veil, and finds + +the consummation of his pleasure in the process of a continuously + +successful unveiling through his own unaided efforts. There would + +have been no science if it had only been concerned about that one + +naked goddess and nothing else. For then its disciples would have been + +obliged to feel like those who purposed to dig a hole straight through + +the earth: each one of whom perceives that with the utmost lifelong + +exertion he is able to excavate only a very little of the enormous + +depth, which is again filled up before his eyes by the labours of his + +successor, so that a third man seems to do well when on his own account + +he selects a new spot for his attempts at tunnelling. If now some one + +proves conclusively that the antipodal goal cannot be attained in this + +direct way, who will still care to toil on in the old depths, unless he + +has learned to content himself in the meantime with finding precious + +stones or discovering natural laws? For that reason Lessing, the most + +honest theoretical man, ventured to say that he cared more for the + +search after truth than for truth itself: in saying which he revealed + +the fundamental secret of science, to the astonishment, and indeed, + +to the vexation of scientific men. Well,[Pg 116] to be sure, there stands + +alongside of this detached perception, as an excess of honesty, if not + +of presumption, a profound illusion which first came to the world + +in the person of Socrates, the imperturbable belief that, by means + +of the clue of causality, thinking reaches to the deepest abysses of + +being, and that thinking is able not only to perceive being but even + +to correct it. This sublime metaphysical illusion is added as an + +instinct to science and again and again leads the latter to its limits, + +where it must change into art; which is really the end, to be attained + +by this mechanism.

+ + + +

If we now look at Socrates in the light of this thought, he appears to + +us as the first who could not only live, but—what is far more—also + +die under the guidance of this instinct of science: and hence the + +picture of the dying, Socrates, as the man delivered from the fear of + +death by knowledge and argument, is the escutcheon, above the entrance + +to science which reminds every one of its mission, namely, to make + +existence appear to be comprehensible, and therefore to be justified: + +for which purpose, if arguments do not suffice, myth also must be + +used, which I just now designated even as the necessary consequence, + +yea, as the end of science.

+ + + +

He who once makes intelligible to himself how, after the death of + +Socrates, the mystagogue of science, one philosophical school succeeds + +another, like wave upon wave,—how an entirely unfore-shadowed + +universal development of the thirst for knowledge in the widest + +compass of the cultured world (and as the specific task for every + +one[Pg 117] highly gifted) led science on to the high sea from which since + +then it has never again been able to be completely ousted; how + +through the universality of this movement a common net of thought + +was first stretched over the entire globe, with prospects, moreover, + +of conformity to law in an entire solar system;—he who realises all + +this, together with the amazingly high pyramid of our present-day + +knowledge, cannot fail to see in Socrates the turning-point and vortex + +of so-called universal history. For if one were to imagine the whole + +incalculable sum of energy which has been used up by that universal + +tendency,—employed, not in the service of knowledge, but for the + +practical, i.e., egoistical ends of individuals and peoples,—then + +probably the instinctive love of life would be so much weakened in + +universal wars of destruction and incessant migrations of peoples, + +that, owing to the practice of suicide, the individual would perhaps + +feel the last remnant of a sense of duty, when, like the native of + +the Fiji Islands, as son he strangles his parents and, as friend, his + +friend: a practical pessimism which might even give rise to a horrible + +ethics of general slaughter out of pity—which, for the rest, exists + +and has existed wherever art in one form or another, especially as + +science and religion, has not appeared as a remedy and preventive of + +that pestilential breath.

+ + + +

In view of this practical pessimism, Socrates is the archetype of + +the theoretical optimist, who in the above-indicated belief in the + +fathomableness of the nature of things, attributes to knowledge and + +perception the power of a universal medicine, and[Pg 118] sees in error and + +evil. To penetrate into the depths of the nature of things, and to + +separate true perception from error and illusion, appeared to the + +Socratic man the noblest and even the only truly human calling: just as + +from the time of Socrates onwards the mechanism of concepts, judgments, + +and inferences was prized above all other capacities as the highest + +activity and the most admirable gift of nature. Even the sublimest + +moral acts, the stirrings of pity, of self-sacrifice, of heroism, + +and that tranquillity of soul, so difficult of attainment, which the + +Apollonian Greek called Sophrosyne, were derived by Socrates, and his + +like-minded successors up to the present day, from the dialectics of + +knowledge, and were accordingly designated as teachable. He who has + +experienced in himself the joy of a Socratic perception, and felt how + +it seeks to embrace, in constantly widening circles, the entire world + +of phenomena, will thenceforth find no stimulus which could urge him + +to existence more forcible than the desire to complete that conquest + +and to knit the net impenetrably close. To a person thus minded the + +Platonic Socrates then appears as the teacher of an entirely new form + +of "Greek cheerfulness" and felicity of existence, which seeks to + +discharge itself in actions, and will find its discharge for the most + +part in maieutic and pedagogic influences on noble youths, with a view + +to the ultimate production of genius.

+ + + +

But now science, spurred on by its powerful illusion, hastens + +irresistibly to its limits, on which its optimism, hidden in the + +essence of logic, is wrecked. For the periphery of the circle of[Pg 119] + +science has an infinite number of points, and while there is still no + +telling how this circle can ever be completely measured, yet the noble + +and gifted man, even before the middle of his career, inevitably comes + +into contact with those extreme points of the periphery where he stares + +at the inexplicable. When he here sees to his dismay how logic coils + +round itself at these limits and finally bites its own tail—then the + +new form of perception discloses itself, namely tragic perception, + +which, in order even to be endured, requires art as a safeguard and + +remedy.

+ + + +

If, with eyes strengthened and refreshed at the sight of the Greeks, we + +look upon the highest spheres of the world that surrounds us, we behold + +the avidity of the insatiate optimistic knowledge, of which Socrates is + +the typical representative, transformed into tragic resignation and the + +need of art: while, to be sure, this same avidity, in its lower stages, + +has to exhibit itself as antagonistic to art, and must especially have + +an inward detestation of Dionyso-tragic art, as was exemplified in the + +opposition of Socratism to Æschylean tragedy.

+ + + +

Here then with agitated spirit we knock at the gates of the present and + +the future: will that "transforming" lead to ever new configurations + +of genius, and especially of the music-practising Socrates? Will the + +net of art which is spread over existence, whether under the name of + +religion or of science, be knit always more closely and delicately, + +or is it destined to be torn to shreds under the restlessly barbaric + +activity and whirl which is called "the present day"?—Anxious,[Pg 120] yet + +not disconsolate, we stand aloof for a little while, as the spectators + +who are permitted to be witnesses of these tremendous struggles and + +transitions. Alas! It is the charm of these struggles that he who + +beholds them must also fight them!

+ + + + + + + +

16.

+ + + + + +

By this elaborate historical example we have endeavoured to make it + +clear that tragedy perishes as surely by evanescence of the spirit of + +music as it can be born only out of this spirit. In order to qualify + +the singularity of this assertion, and, on the other hand, to disclose + +the source of this insight of ours, we must now confront with clear + +vision the analogous phenomena of the present time; we must enter + +into the midst of these struggles, which, as I said just now, are + +being carried on in the highest spheres of our present world between + +the insatiate optimistic perception and the tragic need of art. In + +so doing I shall leave out of consideration all other antagonistic + +tendencies which at all times oppose art, especially tragedy, and which + +at present again extend their sway triumphantly, to such an extent that + +of the theatrical arts only the farce and the ballet, for example, put + +forth their blossoms, which perhaps not every one cares to smell, in + +tolerably rich luxuriance. I will speak only of the Most Illustrious + +Opposition to the tragic conception of things—and by this I mean + +essentially optimistic science, with its ancestor Socrates at the head + +of it. Presently also the forces will be designated[Pg 121] which seem to me + +to guarantee a re-birth of tragedy—and who knows what other blessed + +hopes for the German genius!

+ + + +

Before we plunge into the midst of these struggles, let us array + +ourselves in the armour of our hitherto acquired knowledge. In + +contrast to all those who are intent on deriving the arts from one + +exclusive principle, as the necessary vital source of every work of + +art, I keep my eyes fixed on the two artistic deities of the Greeks, + +Apollo and Dionysus, and recognise in them the living and conspicuous + +representatives of two worlds of art which differ in their intrinsic + +essence and in their highest aims. Apollo stands before me as the + +transfiguring genius of the principium individuationis through + +which alone the redemption in appearance is to be truly attained, + +while by the mystical cheer of Dionysus the spell of individuation + +is broken, and the way lies open to the Mothers of Being,[20] to the + +innermost heart of things. This extraordinary antithesis, which opens + +up yawningly between plastic art as the Apollonian and music as the + +Dionysian art, has become manifest to only one of the great thinkers, + +to such an extent that, even without this key to the symbolism of the + +Hellenic divinities, he allowed to music a different character and + +origin in advance of all the other arts, because, unlike them, it is + +not a copy of the phenomenon, but a direct copy of the will itself, and + +therefore represents the metaphysical of everything physical in the[Pg 122] + +world, the thing-in-itself of every phenomenon. (Schopenhauer, Welt + +als Wille und Vorstellung, I. 310.) To this most important perception + +of æsthetics (with which, taken in a serious sense, æsthetics properly + +commences), Richard Wagner, by way of confirmation of its eternal + +truth, affixed his seal, when he asserted in his Beethoven that + +music must be judged according to æsthetic principles quite different + +from those which apply to the plastic arts, and not, in general, + +according to the category of beauty: although an erroneous æsthetics, + +inspired by a misled and degenerate art, has by virtue of the concept + +of beauty prevailing in the plastic domain accustomed itself to demand + +of music an effect analogous to that of the works of plastic art, + +namely the suscitating delight in beautiful forms. Upon perceiving + +this extraordinary antithesis, I felt a strong inducement to approach + +the essence of Greek tragedy, and, by means of it, the profoundest + +revelation of Hellenic genius: for I at last thought myself to be in + +possession of a charm to enable me—far beyond the phraseology of our + +usual æsthetics—to represent vividly to my mind the primitive problem + +of tragedy: whereby such an astounding insight into the Hellenic + +character was afforded me that it necessarily seemed as if our proudly + +comporting classico-Hellenic science had thus far contrived to subsist + +almost exclusively on phantasmagoria and externalities.

+ + + +

Perhaps we may lead up to this primitive problem with the question: + +what æsthetic effect results when the intrinsically separate + +art-powers,[Pg 123] the Apollonian and the Dionysian, enter into concurrent + +actions? Or, in briefer form: how is music related to image and + +concept?—Schopenhauer, whom Richard Wagner, with especial reference to + +this point, accredits with an unsurpassable clearness and perspicuity + +of exposition, expresses himself most copiously on the subject in + +the following passage which I shall cite here at full length[21] + +(Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, I. p. 309): "According to all + +this, we may regard the phenomenal world, or nature, and music as + +two different expressions of the same thing,[20] which is therefore + +itself the only medium of the analogy between these two expressions, + +so that a knowledge of this medium is required in order to understand + +that analogy. Music, therefore, if regarded as an expression of the + +world, is in the highest degree a universal language, which is related + +indeed to the universality of concepts, much as these are related to + +the particular things. Its universality, however, is by no means the + +empty universality of abstraction, but of quite a different kind, and + +is united with thorough and distinct definiteness. In this respect it + +resembles geometrical figures and numbers, which are the universal + +forms of all possible objiects of experience and applicable to them all + +a priori, and yet are not abstract but perceptiple and thoroughly + +determinate. All possible efforts, excitements[Pg 124] and manifestations of + +will, all that goes on in the heart of man and that reason includes in + +the wide, negative concept of feeling, may be expressed by the infinite + +number of possible melodies, but always in the universality of mere + +form, without the material, always according to the thing-in-itself, + +not the phenomenon,—of which they reproduce the very soul and essence + +as it were, without the body. This deep relation which music bears to + +the true nature of all things also explains the fact that suitable + +music played to any scene, action, event, or surrounding seems to + +disclose to us its most secret meaning, and appears as the most + +accurate and distinct commentary upon it; as also the fact that whoever + +gives himself up entirely to the impression of a symphony seems to see + +all the possible events of life and the world take place in himself: + +nevertheless upon reflection he can find no likeness between the music + +and the things that passed before his mind. For, as we have said, music + +is distinguished from all the other arts by the fact that it is not a + +copy of the phenomenon, or, more accurately, the adequate objectivity + +of the will, but the direct copy of the will itself, and therefore + +represents the metaphysical of everything physical in the world, and + +the thing-in-itself of every phenomenon. We might, therefore, just as + +well call the world embodied music as embodied will: and this is the + +reason why music makes every picture, and indeed every scene of real + +life and of the world, at once appear with higher significance; all the + +more so, to be sure, in proportion as its[Pg 125] melody is analogous to the + +inner spirit of the given phenomenon. It rests upon this that we are + +able to set a poem to music as a song, or a perceptible representation + +as a pantomime, or both as an opera. Such particular pictures of human + +life, set to the universal language of music, are never bound to it + +or correspond to it with stringent necessity, but stand to it only + +in the relation of an example chosen at will to a general concept. + +In the determinateness of the real they represent that which music + +expresses in the universality of mere form. For melodies are to a + +certain extent, like general concepts, an abstraction from the actual. + +This actual world, then, the world of particular things, affords the + +object of perception, the special and the individual, the particular + +case, both to the universality of concepts and to the universality of + +the melodies. But these two universalities are in a certain respect + +opposed to each other; for the concepts contain only the forms, which + +are first of all abstracted from perception,—the separated outward + +shell of things, as it were,—and hence they are, in the strictest + +sense of the term, abstracta; music, on the other hand, gives the + +inmost kernel which precedes all forms, or the heart of things. This + +relation may be very well expressed in the language of the schoolmen, + +by saying: the concepts are the universalia post rem, but music gives + +the universalia ante rem, and the real world the universalia in + +re.—But that in general a relation is possible between a composition + +and a perceptible representation rests, as we have said, upon the[Pg 126] + +fact that both are simply different expressions of the same inner + +being of the world. When now, in the particular case, such a relation + +is actually given, that is to say, when the composer has been able to + +express in the universal language of music the emotions of will which + +constitute the heart of an event, then the melody of the song, the + +music of the opera, is expressive. But the analogy discovered by the + +composer between the two must have proceeded from the direct knowledge + +of the nature of the world unknown to his reason, and must not be an + +imitation produced with conscious intention by means of conceptions; + +otherwise the music does not express the inner nature of the will + +itself, but merely gives an inadequate imitation of its phenomenon: all + +specially imitative music does this."

+ + + +

We have therefore, according to the doctrine of Schopenhauer, an + +immediate understanding of music as the language of the will, and + +feel our imagination stimulated to give form to this invisible and + +yet so actively stirred spirit-world which speaks to us, and prompted + +to embody it in an analogous example. On the other hand, image and + +concept, under the influence of a truly conformable music, acquire a + +higher significance. Dionysian art therefore is wont to exercise—two + +kinds of influences, on the Apollonian art-faculty: music firstly + +incites to the symbolic intuition of Dionysian universality, and, + +secondly, it causes the symbolic image to stand forth in its fullest + +significance. From these facts, intelligible in themselves and not + +inaccessible to profounder observation,[Pg 127] I infer the capacity of music + +to give birth to myth, that is to say, the most significant exemplar, + +and precisely tragic myth: the myth which speaks of Dionysian + +knowledge in symbols. In the phenomenon of the lyrist, I have set forth + +that in him music strives to express itself with regard to its nature + +in Apollonian images. If now we reflect that music in its highest + +potency must seek to attain also to its highest symbolisation, we must + +deem it possible that it also knows how to find the symbolic expression + +of its inherent Dionysian wisdom; and where shall we have to seek for + +this expression if not in tragedy and, in general, in the conception of + +the tragic?

+ + + +

From the nature of art, as it is ordinarily conceived according to + +the single category of appearance and beauty, the tragic cannot be + +honestly deduced at all; it is only through the spirit of music that + +we understand the joy in the annihilation of the individual. For in + +the particular examples of such annihilation only is the eternal + +phenomenon of Dionysian art made clear to us, which gives expression + +to the will in its omnipotence, as it were, behind the principium + +individuationis, the eternal life beyond all phenomena, and in + +spite of all annihilation. The metaphysical delight in the tragic + +is a translation of the instinctively unconscious Dionysian wisdom + +into the language of the scene: the hero, the highest manifestation + +of the will, is disavowed for our pleasure, because he is only + +phenomenon, and because the eternal life of the will is not affected + +by his annihilation. "We believe in eternal life,"[Pg 128] tragedy exclaims; + +while music is the proximate idea of this life. Plastic art has an + +altogether different object: here Apollo vanquishes the suffering of + +the individual by the radiant glorification of the eternity of the + +phenomenon; here beauty triumphs over the suffering inherent in life; + +pain is in a manner surreptitiously obliterated from the features of + +nature. In Dionysian art and its tragic symbolism the same nature + +speaks to us with its true undissembled voice: "Be as I am! Amidst the + +ceaseless change of phenomena the eternally creative primordial mother, + +eternally impelling to existence, self-satisfying eternally with this + +change of phenomena!"

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[20] Cf. World and Will as Idea, I. p. 339, trans. by + +Haldane and Kemp.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[21] That is "the will" as understood by Schopenhauer.—TR.

+ + + + + + + +

17.

+ + + + + +

Dionysian art, too, seeks to convince us of the eternal joy of + +existence: only we are to seek this joy not in phenomena, but behind + +phenomena. We are to perceive how all that comes into being must be + +ready for a sorrowful end; we are compelled to look into the terrors of + +individual existence—yet we are not to become torpid: a metaphysical + +comfort tears us momentarily from the bustle of the transforming + +figures. We are really for brief moments Primordial Being itself, + +and feel its indomitable desire for being and joy in existence; the + +struggle, the pain, the destruction of phenomena, now appear to us as + +something necessary, considering the surplus of innumerable forms of + +existence which throng and push one another into life, considering + +the exuberant fertility of the universal will. We are pierced by the + +maddening sting of[Pg 129] these pains at the very moment when we have become, + +as it were, one with the immeasurable primordial joy in existence, + +and when we anticipate, in Dionysian ecstasy, the indestructibility + +and eternity of this joy. In spite of fear and pity, we are the happy + +living beings, not as individuals, but as the one living being, with + +whose procreative joy we are blended.

+ + + +

The history of the rise of Greek tragedy now tells us with luminous + +precision that the tragic art of the Greeks was really born of the + +spirit of music: with which conception we believe we have done justice + +for the first time to the original and most astonishing significance of + +the chorus. At the same time, however, we must admit that the import of + +tragic myth as set forth above never became transparent with sufficient + +lucidity to the Greek poets, let alone the Greek philosophers; their + +heroes speak, as it were, more superficially than they act; the myth + +does not at all find its adequate objectification in the spoken word. + +The structure of the scenes and the conspicuous images reveal a deeper + +wisdom than the poet himself can put into words and concepts: the same + +being also observed in Shakespeare, whose Hamlet, for instance, in an + +analogous manner talks more superficially than he acts, so that the + +previously mentioned lesson of Hamlet is to be gathered not from his + +words, but from a more profound contemplation and survey of the whole. + +With respect to Greek tragedy, which of course presents itself to us + +only as word-drama, I have even intimated that the incongruence between + +myth and expression might[Pg 130] easily tempt us to regard it as shallower + +and less significant than it really is, and accordingly to postulate + +for it a more superficial effect than it must have had according to + +the testimony of the ancients: for how easily one forgets that what + +the word-poet did not succeed in doing, namely realising the highest + +spiritualisation and ideality of myth, he might succeed in doing + +every moment as creative musician! We require, to be sure, almost by + +philological method to reconstruct for ourselves the ascendency of + +musical influence in order to receive something of the incomparable + +comfort which must be characteristic of true tragedy. Even this musical + +ascendency, however, would only have been felt by us as such had + +we been Greeks: while in the entire development of Greek music—as + +compared with the infinitely richer music known and familiar to us—we + +imagine we hear only the youthful song of the musical genius intoned + +with a feeling of diffidence. The Greeks are, as the Egyptian priests + +say, eternal children, and in tragic art also they are only children + +who do not know what a sublime play-thing has originated under their + +hands and—is being demolished.

+ + + +

That striving of the spirit of music for symbolic and mythical + +manifestation, which increases from the beginnings of lyric poetry to + +Attic tragedy, breaks off all of a sudden immediately after attaining + +luxuriant development, and disappears, as it were, from the surface + +of Hellenic art: while the Dionysian view of things born of this + +striving lives on in Mysteries and, in its strangest metamorphoses[Pg 131] and + +debasements, does not cease to attract earnest natures. Will it not one + +day rise again as art out of its mystic depth?

+ + + +

Here the question occupies us, whether the power by the counteracting + +influence of which tragedy perished, has for all time strength enough + +to prevent the artistic reawaking of tragedy and of the tragic view + +of things. If ancient tragedy was driven from its course by the + +dialectical desire for knowledge and the optimism of science, it might + +be inferred that there is an eternal conflict between the theoretic + +and the tragic view of things, and only after the spirit of science + +has been led to its boundaries, and its claim to universal validity + +has been destroyed by the evidence of these boundaries, can we hope + +for a re-birth of tragedy: for which form of culture we should have to + +use the symbol of the music-practising Socrates in the sense spoken + +of above. In this contrast, I understand by the spirit of science the + +belief which first came to light in the person of Socrates,—the belief + +in the fathomableness of nature and in knowledge as a panacea.

+ + + +

He who recalls the immediate consequences of this restlessly + +onward-pressing spirit of science will realise at once that myth + +was annihilated by it, and that, in consequence of this annihilation, + +poetry was driven as a homeless being from her natural ideal soil. + +If we have rightly assigned to music the capacity to reproduce myth + +from itself, we may in turn expect to find the spirit of science on + +the path where it inimically opposes this mythopoeic power of music. + +This takes place in the development of the New Attic Dithyramb, the + +music of[Pg 132] which no longer expressed the inner essence, the will itself, + +but only rendered the phenomenon insufficiently, in an imitation by + +means of concepts; from which intrinsically degenerate music the truly + +musical natures turned away with the same repugnance that they felt + +for the art-destroying tendency of Socrates. The unerring instinct of + +Aristophanes surely did the proper thing when it comprised Socrates + +himself, the tragedy of Euripides, and the music of the new Dithyrambic + +poets in the same feeling of hatred, and perceived in all three + +phenomena the symptoms of a degenerate culture. By this New Dithyramb, + +music has in an outrageous manner been made the imitative portrait of + +phenomena, for instance, of a battle or a storm at sea, and has thus, + +of course, been entirely deprived of its mythopoeic power. For if it + +endeavours to excite our delight only by compelling us to seek external + +analogies between a vital or natural process and certain rhythmical + +figures and characteristic sounds of music; if our understanding is + +expected to satisfy itself with the perception of these analogies, we + +are reduced to a frame of mind in which the reception of the mythical + +is impossible; for the myth as a unique exemplar of generality + +and truth towering into the infinite, desires to be conspicuously + +perceived. The truly Dionysean music presents itself to us as such + +a general mirror of the universal will: the conspicuous event which + +is refracted in this mirror expands at once for our consciousness to + +the copy of an eternal truth. Conversely, such a conspicious event is + +at once divested of every mythical[Pg 133] character by the tone-painting + +of the New Dithyramb; music has here become a wretched copy of the + +phenomenon, and therefore infinitely poorer than the phenomenon itself: + +through which poverty it still further reduces even the phenomenon for + +our consciousness, so that now, for instance, a musically imitated + +battle of this sort exhausts itself in marches, signal-sounds, etc., + +and our imagination is arrested precisely by these superficialities. + +Tone-painting is therefore in every respect the counterpart of true + +music with its mythopoeic power: through it the phenomenon, poor in + +itself, is made still poorer, while through an isolated Dionysian music + +the phenomenon is evolved and expanded into a picture of the world. + +It was an immense triumph of the non-Dionysian spirit, when, in the + +development of the New Dithyramb, it had estranged music from itself + +and reduced it to be the slave of phenomena. Euripides, who, albeit in + +a higher sense, must be designated as a thoroughly unmusical nature, + +is for this very reason a passionate adherent of the New Dithyrambic + +Music, and with the liberality of a freebooter employs all its + +effective turns and mannerisms.

+ + + +

In another direction also we see at work the power of this + +un-Dionysian, myth-opposing spirit, when we turn our eyes to the + +prevalence of character representation and psychological refinement + +from Sophocles onwards. The character must no longer be expanded into + +an eternal type, but, on the contrary, must operate individually + +through artistic by-traits and shadings, through the nicest precision + +of all lines, in such a manner[Pg 134] that the spectator is in general no + +longer conscious of the myth, but of the mighty nature-myth and the + +imitative power of the artist. Here also we observe the victory of + +the phenomenon over the Universal, and the delight in the particular + +quasi-anatomical preparation; we actually breathe the air of a + +theoretical world, in which scientific knowledge is valued more highly + +than the artistic reflection of a universal law. The movement along + +the line of the representation of character proceeds rapidly: while + +Sophocles still delineates complete characters and employs myth for + +their refined development, Euripides already delineates only prominent + +individual traits of character, which can express themselves in violent + +bursts of passion; in the New Attic Comedy, however, there are only + +masks with one expression: frivolous old men, duped panders, and + +cunning slaves in untiring repetition. Where now is the mythopoeic + +spirit of music? What is still left now of music is either excitatory + +music or souvenir music, that is, either a stimulant for dull and + +used-up nerves, or tone-painting. As regards the former, it hardly + +matters about the text set to it: the heroes and choruses of Euripides + +are already dissolute enough when once they begin to sing; to what pass + +must things have come with his brazen successors?

+ + + +

The new un-Dionysian spirit, however, manifests itself most clearly in + +the dénouements of the new dramas. In the Old Tragedy one could feel + +at the close the metaphysical comfort, without which the delight in + +tragedy cannot be explained at all; the conciliating tones from another + +world sound purest,[Pg 135] perhaps, in the Œdipus at Colonus. Now that the + +genius of music has fled from tragedy, tragedy is, strictly speaking, + +dead: for from whence could one now draw the metaphysical comfort? One + +sought, therefore, for an earthly unravelment of the tragic dissonance; + +the hero, after he had been sufficiently tortured by fate, reaped a + +well-deserved reward through a superb marriage or divine tokens of + +favour. The hero had turned gladiator, on whom, after being liberally + +battered about and covered with wounds, freedom was occasionally + +bestowed. The deus ex machina took the place of metaphysical comfort. + +I will not say that the tragic view of things was everywhere completely + +destroyed by the intruding spirit of the un-Dionysian: we only know + +that it was compelled to flee from art into the under-world as it were, + +in the degenerate form of a secret cult. Over the widest extent of the + +Hellenic character, however, there raged the consuming blast of this + +spirit, which manifests itself in the form of "Greek cheerfulness," + +which we have already spoken of as a senile, unproductive love of + +existence; this cheerfulness is the counterpart of the splendid + +"naïveté" of the earlier Greeks, which, according to the characteristic + +indicated above, must be conceived as the blossom of the Apollonian + +culture growing out of a dark abyss, as the victory which the Hellenic + +will, through its mirroring of beauty, obtains over suffering and the + +wisdom of suffering. The noblest manifestation of that other form of + +"Greek cheerfulness," the Alexandrine, is the cheerfulness of the + +theoretical man: it exhibits the same symptomatic characteristics as + +I have just inferred[Pg 136] concerning the spirit of the un-Dionysian:—it + +combats Dionysian wisdom and art, it seeks to dissolve myth, it + +substitutes for metaphysical comfort an earthly consonance, in fact, a + +deus ex machina of its own, namely the god of machines and crucibles, + +that is, the powers of the genii of nature recognised and employed in + +the service of higher egoism; it believes in amending the world by + +knowledge, in guiding life by science, and that it can really confine + +the individual within a narrow sphere of solvable problems, where he + +cheerfully says to life: "I desire thee: it is worth while to know + +thee."

+ + + + + + + +

18.

+ + + + + +

It is an eternal phenomenon: the avidious will can always, by means + +of an illusion spread over things, detain its creatures in life + +and compel them to live on. One is chained by the Socratic love of + +knowledge and the vain hope of being able thereby to heal the eternal + +wound of existence; another is ensnared by art's seductive veil of + +beauty fluttering before his eyes; still another by the metaphysical + +comfort that eternal life flows on indestructibly beneath the whirl of + +phenomena: to say nothing of the more ordinary and almost more powerful + +illusions which the will has always at hand. These three specimens of + +illusion are on the whole designed only for the more nobly endowed + +natures, who in general feel profoundly the weight and burden of + +existence, and must be deluded into forgetfulness of their displeasure + +by exquisite stimulants. All that we call culture is made up of these + +stimulants;[Pg 137] and, according to the proportion of the ingredients, we + +have either a specially Socratic or artistic or tragic culture: + +or, if historical exemplifications are wanted, there is either an + +Alexandrine or a Hellenic or a Buddhistic culture.

+ + + +

Our whole modern world is entangled in the meshes of Alexandrine + +culture, and recognises as its ideal the theorist equipped with + +the most potent means of knowledge, and labouring in the service of + +science, of whom the archetype and progenitor is Socrates. All our + +educational methods have originally this ideal in view: every other + +form of existence must struggle onwards wearisomely beside it, as + +something tolerated, but not intended. In an almost alarming manner the + +cultured man was here found for a long time only in the form of the + +scholar: even our poetical arts have been forced to evolve from learned + +imitations, and in the main effect of the rhyme we still recognise the + +origin of our poetic form from artistic experiments with a non-native + +and thoroughly learned language. How unintelligible must Faust, the + +modern cultured man, who is in himself intelligible, have appeared to a + +true Greek,—Faust, storming discontentedly through all the faculties, + +devoted to magic and the devil from a desire for knowledge, whom we + +have only to place alongside of Socrates for the purpose of comparison, + +in order to see that modern man begins to divine the boundaries of + +this Socratic love of perception and longs for a coast in the wide + +waste of the ocean of knowledge. When Goethe on one occasion said to + +Eckermann with reference to Napoleon: "Yes, my good friend, there is + +also a productiveness of[Pg 138] deeds," he reminded us in a charmingly naïve + +manner that the non-theorist is something incredible and astounding to + +modern man; so that the wisdom of Goethe is needed once more in order + +to discover that such a surprising form of existence is comprehensible, + +nay even pardonable.

+ + + +

Now, we must not hide from ourselves what is concealed in the heart + +of this Socratic culture: Optimism, deeming itself absolute! Well, we + +must not be alarmed if the fruits of this optimism ripen,—if society, + +leavened to the very lowest strata by this kind of culture, gradually + +begins to tremble through wanton agitations and desires, if the belief + +in the earthly happiness of all, if the belief in the possibility of + +such a general intellectual culture is gradually transformed into the + +threatening demand for such an Alexandrine earthly happiness, into + +the conjuring of a Euripidean deus ex machina. Let us mark this + +well: the Alexandrine culture requires a slave class, to be able to + +exist permanently: but, in its optimistic view of life, it denies the + +necessity of such a class, and consequently, when the effect of its + +beautifully seductive and tranquillising utterances about the "dignity + +of man" and the "dignity of labour" is spent, it gradually drifts + +towards a dreadful destination. There is nothing more terrible than + +a barbaric slave class, who have learned to regard their existence + +as an injustice, and now prepare to take vengeance, not only for + +themselves, but for all generations. In the face of such threatening + +storms, who dares to appeal with confident spirit to our pale and + +exhausted religions, which even in their foundations have degenerated + +into[Pg 139] scholastic religions?—so that myth, the necessary prerequisite + +of every religion, is already paralysed everywhere, and even in this + +domain the optimistic spirit—which we have just designated as the + +annihilating germ of society—has attained the mastery.

+ + + +

While the evil slumbering in the heart of theoretical culture gradually + +begins to disquiet modern man, and makes him anxiously ransack the + +stores of his experience for means to avert the danger, though not + +believing very much in these means; while he, therefore, begins to + +divine the consequences his position involves: great, universally + +gifted natures have contrived, with an incredible amount of thought, to + +make use of the apparatus of science itself, in order to point out the + +limits and the relativity of knowledge generally, and thus definitely + +to deny the claim of science to universal validity and universal ends: + +with which demonstration the illusory notion was for the first time + +recognised as such, which pretends, with the aid of causality, to be + +able to fathom the innermost essence of things. The extraordinary + +courage and wisdom of Kant and Schopenhauer have succeeded in + +gaining the most, difficult, victory, the victory over the optimism + +hidden in the essence of logic, which optimism in turn is the basis of + +our culture. While this optimism, resting on apparently unobjectionable + +æterna veritates, believed in the intelligibility and solvability of + +all the riddles of the world, and treated space, time, and causality + +as totally unconditioned laws of the most universal validity, Kant, on + +the other hand, showed that these served in reality only to elevate the + +mere[Pg 140] phenomenon, the work of Mâyâ, to the sole and highest reality, + +putting it in place of the innermost and true essence of things, thus + +making the actual knowledge of this essence impossible, that is, + +according to the expression of Schopenhauer, to lull the dreamer still + +more soundly asleep (Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, I. 498). With + +this knowledge a culture is inaugurated which I venture to designate as + +a tragic culture; the most important characteristic of which is that + +wisdom takes the place of science as the highest end,—wisdom, which, + +uninfluenced by the seductive distractions of the sciences, turns + +with unmoved eye to the comprehensive view of the world, and seeks to + +apprehend therein the eternal suffering as its own with sympathetic + +feelings of love. Let us imagine a rising generation with this + +undauntedness of vision, with this heroic desire for the prodigious, + +let us imagine the bold step of these dragon-slayers, the proud and + +daring spirit with which they turn their backs on all the effeminate + +doctrines of optimism in order "to live resolutely" in the Whole and in + +the Full: would it not be necessary for the tragic man of this culture, + +with his self-discipline to earnestness and terror, to desire a new + +art, the art of metaphysical comfort,—namely, tragedy, as the Hellena + +belonging to him, and that he should exclaim with Faust:

+ + + +

+ +Und sollt' ich nicht, sehnsüchtigster Gewalt,
+ +In's Leben ziehn die einzigste Gestalt?[21]
-

- -[Illustration: A small girl in medieval garb holds a large document

-

-CHAPTER XVIII -

- -

-THE VETERAN OF THE FOREST ENTERTAINS TWO VERY YOUNG PEOPLE -

- -

-Do you remember the day when the Princess Hyacinth and Wiggs sat upon -the castle walls and talked of Udo's coming? The Princess thought he -would be dark, and Wiggs thought he would be fair, and he was to have -the Purple Room—or was it the Blue?—and anyhow he was to put the -Countess in her place and bring happiness to Euralia. That seemed a -long time ago to Hyacinth now, as once more she sat on the castle -walls with Wiggs. -

- -

-She was very lovely. She longed to get rid of that "outside help in -our affairs" which she had summoned so recklessly. They were two -against one now. Belvane actively against her was bad enough; but -Belvane in the background with Udo as her mouthpiece—Udo specially -asked in to give the benefit of his counsel—this was ten times worse. -

- -

-"What do you do, Wiggs?" she asked, "when you are very lonely and -nobody loves you?" -

- -

-"Dance," said Wiggs promptly. -

- -

-"But if you don't want to dance?" -

- -

-Wiggs tried to remember those dark ages (about a week ago) when she -couldn't dance. -

- -

-"I used to go into the forest," she said, "and sit under my own tree, -and by and by everybody loved you." -

- -

-"I wonder if they'd love me." -

- -

-"Of course they would. Shall I show you my special tree?" -

- -

-"Yes, but don't come with me; tell me where it is. I want to be -unhappy alone." -

- -

-So Wiggs told her how you followed her special path, which went in at -the corner of the forest, until by and by the trees thinned on either -side, and it widened into a glade, and you went downhill and crossed -the brook at the bottom and went up the other side until it was all -trees again, and the first and the biggest and the oldest and the -loveliest was hers. And you turned round and sat with your back -against it, and looked across to where you'd come from, and then you -knew that everything was all right. -

- -

-"I shall find it," said Hyacinth, as she got up. "Thank you, dear." -

- -

-She found it, she sat there, and her heart was very bitter at first -against Udo and against Belvane, and even against her father for going -away and leaving her; but by and by the peace of the place wrapped -itself around her, and she felt that she would find a way out of her -difficulties somehow. Only she wished that her father would come -back, because he loved her, and she felt that it would be nice to be -loved again. -

- -

-"It is beautiful, isn't it?" said a voice from behind her. -

- -

-She turned suddenly, as a tall young man stepped out from among the -trees. -

- -

-"Oh, who are you, please?" she asked, amazed at his sudden appearance. -His dress told her nothing, but his face told her things which she -was glad to know. -

- -

-"My name," he said, "is Coronel." -

- -

-"It is a pretty name." -

- -

-"Yes, but don't be lead away by it. It belongs to nobody very -particular. Do you mind if I sit down? I generally sit down here -about this time." -

- -

-"Oh, do you live in the forest?" -

- -

-"I have lived here for the last week." He gave her a friendly smile, -and added, "You're late, aren't you?" -

- -

-"Late?" -

- -

-"Yes, I've been expecting you for the last seven days." -

- -

-"How did you know there was any me at all?" smiled Hyacinth. -

- -

-With a movement of his hand Coronel indicated the scene in front of -him. -

- -

-"There had to be somebody for whom all this was made. It wanted -somebody to say thank you to it now and then." -

- -

-"Haven't you been doing that all this week?" -

- -

-"Me? I wouldn't presume. No, it's your glade, and you've neglected -it shamefully." -

- -

-"There's a little girl who comes here," said Hyacinth. "I wonder if -you have seen her?" -

- -

-Coronel turned away. There were secret places in his heart into which -Hyacinth could not come—yet. -

- -

-"She danced," he said shortly. -

- -

-There was silence between them for a little, but a comfortable -silence, as if they were already old friends. -

- -

-"You know," said Hyacinth, looking down at him as he lay at her feet, -"you ought not to be here at all, really." -

- -

-"I wish I could think that," said Coronel. "I had a horrible feeling -that duty called me here. I love those places where one really -oughtn't to be at all, don't you?" -

- -

-"I love being here," sighed Hyacinth. "Wiggs was quite right." -Seeing him look up at her she added, "Wiggs is the little girl who -dances, you know." -

- -

-"She would be right," said Coronel, looking away from her. -

- -

-Hyacinth felt strangely rested. It seemed that never again would -anything trouble her; never again would she have only her own strength -to depend upon. Who was he? But it did not matter. He might go away -and she might never see him again, but she was no longer afraid of the -world. -

- -

-"I thought," she said, "that all the men of Euralia were away -fighting." -

- -

-"So did I," said Coronel. -

- -

-"What are you, then? A Prince from a distant country, an enchanter, a -spy sent from Barodia, a travelling musician?—you see, I give you -much to choose from." -

- -

-"You leave me nothing to be but what I am—Coronel." -

- -

-"And I am Hyacinth." -

- -

-He knew, of course, but he made no sign. -

- -

-"Hyacinth," he said, and he held out his hand. -

- -

-"Coronel," she answered as she took it. -

- -

-The brook chuckled to itself as it hurried past below them. -

- -

-Hyacinth got up with a little sigh of contentment. -

- -

-"Well, I must be going," she said. -

- -

-"Must you really be going?" asked Coronel. "I wasn't saying good-bye, -you know." -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"I really must." -

- -

-"It's a surprising thing about the view from here," said Coronel, -"that it looks just as nice to-morrow. To-morrow about the same -time." -

- -

-"That's a very extraordinary thing," smiled Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Yes, but it's one of those things that you don't want to take another -person's word for." -

- -

-"You think I ought to see for myself? Well, perhaps I will." -

- -

-"Give me a whistle if I happen to be passing," said Coronel casually, -"and tell me what you think. Good-bye, Hyacinth." -

- -

-"Good-bye, Coronel." -

- -

-She nodded her head confidently at him, and then turned round and went -off daintily down the hill. -

- -

-Coronel stared after her. -

- -

-"What is Udo doing?" he murmured to himself. "But perhaps she -doesn't like animals. A whole day to wait. How endless!" -

- -

-If he had known that Udo, now on two legs again, was at that moment in -Belvane's garden, trying to tell her, for the fifth time that week, -about his early life in Araby, he would have been still more -surprised. -

- -

-We left Coronel, if you remember, in Araby. For three or four days he -remained there, wondering how Udo was getting on, and feeling more and -more that he ought to do something about it. On the fourth day he got -on to his horse and rode off again. He simply must see what was -happening. If Udo wanted to help, then he would be there to give it; -if Udo was all right again, then he could go comfortably back to -Araby. -

- -

-To tell the truth, Coronel was a little jealous of his friend. A -certain Prince Perivale, who had stayed at his uncle's court, had once -been a suitor for Hyacinth's hand; but losing a competition with the -famous seven-headed bull of Euralia, which Merriwig had arranged for -him, had made no further headway with his suit. This Prince had had a -portrait of Hyacinth specially done for him by his own Court Painter, -a portrait which Coronel had seen. It was for this reason that he had -at first objected to accompanying Udo to Euralia, and it was for this -reason that he persuaded himself very readily that the claims of -friendship called him there now. -

- -

-For the last week he had been waiting in the forest. Now that he was -there, he was not quite sure how to carry out his mission. So far -there had been no sign of Udo, either on four legs or on two; it -seemed probable that unless Coronel went to the Palace and asked for -him, there would be no sign. And if he went to the Palace, and Udo -was all right, and the Princess Hyacinth was in love with him, then -the worst would have happened. He would have to stay there and help -admire Udo—an unsatisfying prospect to a man in love. For he told -himself by this time that he was in love with Hyacinth, although he -had never seen her. -

- -

-So he had waited in the forest, hoping for something to turn up; and -first Wiggs had come . . . and now at last Hyacinth. He was very glad -that he had waited. -

- -

-She was there on the morrow. -

- -

-"I knew you'd come," said Coronel. "It looks just as beautiful, -doesn't it?" -

- -

-"I think it's even more beautiful," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-"You mean those little white clouds? That was my idea putting those -in. I thought you'd like them." -

- -

-"I wondered what you did all day. Does it keep you very busy?" -

- -

-"Oh," said Coronel, "I have time for singing." -

- -

-"Why do you sing?" -

- -

-"Because I am young and the forest is beautiful." -

- -

-"I have been singing this morning, too." -

- -

-"Why?" asked Coronel eagerly. -

- -

-"Because the war with Barodia is over." -

- -

-"Oh!" said Coronel, rather taken aback. -

- -

-"That doesn't interest you. Yet if you were a Euralian——" -

- -

-"But it interests me extremely. Let us admire the scene for a moment, -while I think. Look, there is another of my little clouds." -

- -

-Coronel wondered what would happen now. If the King were coming back, -then Udo would be wanted no longer save as a suitor for Hyacinth's -hand. If, then, he returned, it would show that—— But suppose he -was still an animal? It was doubtful if he would go back to Araby as -an animal. And then there was another possibility: perhaps he had -never come to Euralia at all. Here were a lot of questions to be -answered, and here next to him was one who could answer them. But he -must go carefully. -

- -

-"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, a hundred," he said aloud. -"There, I've finished my thinking and you've finished your looking." -

- -

-"And what have you decided?" smiled Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Decided?" said Coronel, rather startled. "Oh, no, I wasn't deciding -anything, I was just thinking. I was thinking about animals." -

- -

-"So was I." -

- -

-"How very curious, and also how wrong of you. You were supposed to be -admiring my clouds. What sort of animals were you thinking about?" -

- -

-"Oh—all sorts." -

- -

-"I was thinking about rabbits. Do you care for rabbits at all?" -

- -

-"Not very much." -

- -

-"Neither do I. They're so loppity. Do you like lions?" -

- -

-"I think their tails are rather silly," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-"Yes, perhaps they are. Now—a woolly lamb." -

- -

-"I am not very fond of woolly lambs just now." -

- -

-"No? Well, they're not very interesting. It's a funny thing," he -went on casually, trying to steal a glance at her, "that we should be -talking about those three animals, because I once met somebody who was -a mixture of all three together at the same time." -

- -

-"So did I," said Hyacinth gravely. -

- -

-But he saw her mouth trembling, and suddenly she turned round and -caught his eye, and then they burst out laughing together. -

- -

-"Poor Udo," said Coronel; "and how is he looking now?" -

- -

-"He is all right again now." -

- -

-"All right again? Then why isn't he—— But I'm very glad he isn't." -

- -

-"I didn't like him," said Hyacinth, blushing a little. And then she -went on bravely, "But I think he found he didn't like me first." -

- -

-"He wants humouring," said Coronel. "It's my business to humour him, -it isn't yours." -

- -

-Hyacinth looked at him with a new interest. -

- -

-"Now I know who you are," she said. "He talked about you once." -

- -

-"What did he say?" asked Coronel, obviously dying to know. -

- -

-"He said you were good at poetry." -

- -

-Coronel was a little disappointed. He would have preferred Hyacinth -to have been told that he was good at dragons. However, they had met -now and it did not matter. -

- -

-"Princess," he said suddenly, "I expect you wonder what I am doing -here. I came to see if Prince Udo was in need of help, and also to -see if you were in need of help. Prince Udo was my friend, but if he -has not been a friend of yours, then he is no longer a friend of mine. -Tell me what has been happening here, and then tell me if in any way -I can help you." -

- -

-"You called me Hyacinth yesterday," she said, "and it is still my -name." -

- -

-"Hyacinth," said Coronel, taking her hand, "tell me if you want me at -all." -

- -

-"Thank you, Coronel. You see, Coronel, it's like this." And sitting -beneath Wiggs's veteran of the forest, with Coronel lying at her feet, -she told him everything. -

- -

-"It seems easy enough," he said when she had finished. "You want Udo -pushed out and the Countess put in her place. I can do the one while -you do the other." -

- -

-"Yes, but how do I push Prince Udo out?" -

- -

-"That's what I'm going to do." -

- -

-"Yes, but, Coronel dear, if I could put the Countess in her place, -shouldn't I have done it a long time ago? I don't think you quite -know the sort of person she is. And I don't quite know what her place -is either, which makes it rather had to put her into it. You see, I -don't think I told you that—that Father is rather fond of her." -

- -

-"I thought you said Udo was." -

- -

-"They both are." -

- -

-"Then how simple. We simply kill Udo, and—and—well, anyhow, there's -one part of it done." -

- -

-"Yes, but what about the other part?" -

- -

-Coronel thought for a moment. -

- -

-"Would it be simpler if we did it the other way around?" he said. -"Killed the Countess and put Udo in his place." -

- -

-"Father wouldn't like that at all, and he's coming back to-morrow." -

- -

-Coronel didn't quite see the difficulty. If the King was in love with -the Countess, he would marry her whatever Hyacinth did. And what was -the good of putting her in her place for one day if her next place was -to be on the throne. -

- -

-Hyacinth guessed what he was thinking. -

- -

-"Oh, don't you see," she cried, "she doesn't know that the King is -coming back to-morrow. And if I can only just show her—I don't mind -if it's only for an hour—that I am not afraid of her, and that she -has got to take her orders from me, then I shan't mind so much all -that has happened these last weeks. But if she is to have disregarded -me all the time, if she is to have plotted against me from the very -moment my father went away, and if nothing is to come to her for it -but that she marries my father and becomes Queen of Euralia, then I -can have no pride left, and I will be a Princess no longer." -

- -

-"I must see this Belvane," said Coronel thoughtfully. -

- -

-"Oh, Coronel, Coronel," cried Hyacinth, "if you fall in love with -her, too, I think I shall die of shame!" -

- -

-"With her, Hyacinth?" he said, turning to her in amazement. -

- -

-"Yes, you—I didn't—you never—I——" Her voice trailed away; she -could not meet his gaze any longer; she dropped her eyes, and the next -moment his arms were round her, and she knew that she would never be -alone again. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of Hyacinth presenting Coronel] + + +

[Pg 141]

+ + + +

But now that the Socratic culture has been shaken from two directions, + +and is only able to hold the sceptre of its infallibility with + +trembling hands,—once by the fear of its own conclusions which it at + +length begins to surmise, and again, because it is no longer convinced + +with its former naïve trust of the eternal validity of its foundation, + +—it is a sad spectacle to behold how the dance of its thought always + +rushes longingly on new forms, to embrace them, and then, shuddering, + +lets them go of a sudden, as Mephistopheles does the seductive Lamiæ. + +It is certainly the symptom of the "breach" which all are wont to speak + +of as the primordial suffering of modern culture that the theoretical + +man, alarmed and dissatisfied at his own conclusions, no longer dares + +to entrust himself to the terrible ice-stream of existence: he runs + +timidly up and down the bank. He no longer wants to have anything + +entire, with all the natural cruelty of things, so thoroughly has he + +been spoiled by his optimistic contemplation. Besides, he feels that + +a culture built up on the principles of science must perish when it + +begins to grow illogical, that is, to avoid its own conclusions. + +Our art reveals this universal trouble: in vain does one seek help by + +imitating all the great productive periods and natures, in vain does + +one accumulate the entire "world-literature" around modern man for + +his comfort, in vain does one place one's self in the midst of the + +art-styles and artists of all ages, so that one may give names to them + +as Adam did to the beasts: one still continues the eternal hungerer, + +the "critic" without joy and energy, the[Pg 142] Alexandrine man, who is in + +the main a librarian and corrector of proofs, and who, pitiable wretch + +goes blind from the dust of books and printers' errors.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[21] Cf. Introduction, p. 14.

+ + + + + + + +

19.

+ + + + + +

We cannot designate the intrinsic substance of Socratic culture more + +distinctly than by calling it the culture of the opera: for it is in + +this department that culture has expressed itself with special naïveté + +concerning its aims and perceptions, which is sufficiently surprising + +when we compare the genesis of the opera and the facts of operatic + +development with the eternal truths of the Apollonian and Dionysian. + +I call to mind first of all the origin of the stilo rappresentativo + +and the recitative. Is it credible that this thoroughly externalised + +operatic music, incapable of devotion, could be received and cherished + +with enthusiastic favour, as a re-birth, as it were, of all true music, + +by the very age in which the ineffably sublime and sacred music of + +Palestrina had originated? And who, on the other hand, would think of + +making only the diversion-craving luxuriousness of those Florentine + +circles and the vanity of their dramatic singers responsible for the + +love of the opera which spread with such rapidity? That in the same + +age, even among the same people, this passion for a half-musical + +mode of speech should awaken alongside of the vaulted structure + +of Palestrine harmonies which the entire Christian Middle Age had + +been building up, I can explain[Pg 143] to myself only by a co-operating + +extra-artistic tendency in the essence of the recitative.

+ + + +

The listener, who insists on distinctly hearing the words under the + +music, has his wishes met by the singer in that he speaks rather than + +sings, and intensifies the pathetic expression of the words in this + +half-song: by this intensification of the pathos he facilitates the + +understanding of the words and surmounts the remaining half of the + +music. The specific danger which now threatens him is that in some + +unguarded moment he may give undue importance to music, which would + +forthwith result in the destruction of the pathos of the speech and + +the distinctness of the words: while, on the other hand, he always + +feels himself impelled to musical delivery and to virtuose exhibition + +of vocal talent. Here the "poet" comes to his aid, who knows how to + +provide him with abundant opportunities for lyrical interjections, + +repetitions of words and sentences, etc.,—at which places the singer, + +now in the purely musical element, can rest himself without minding the + +words. This alternation of emotionally impressive, yet only half-sung + +speech and wholly sung interjections, which is characteristic of the + +stilo rappresentativo, this rapidly changing endeavour to operate + +now on the conceptional and representative faculty of the hearer, now + +on his musical sense, is something so thoroughly unnatural and withal + +so intrinsically contradictory both to the Apollonian and Dionysian + +artistic impulses, that one has to infer an origin of the recitative + +foreign to all artistic instincts. The[Pg 144] recitative must be defined, + +according to this description, as the combination of epic and lyric + +delivery, not indeed as an intrinsically stable combination which + +could not be attained in the case of such totally disparate elements, + +but an entirely superficial mosaic conglutination, such as is totally + +unprecedented in the domain of nature and experience. But this was + +not the opinion of the inventors of the recitative: they themselves, + +and their age with them, believed rather that the mystery of antique + +music had been solved by this stilo rappresentativo, in which, as + +they thought, the only explanation of the enormous influence of an + +Orpheus, an Amphion, and even of Greek tragedy was to be found. The new + +style was regarded by them as the re-awakening of the most effective + +music, the Old Greek music: indeed, with the universal and popular + +conception of the Homeric world as the primitive world, they could + +abandon themselves to the dream of having descended once more into the + +paradisiac beginnings of mankind, wherein music also must needs have + +had the unsurpassed purity, power, and innocence of which the poets + +could give such touching accounts in their pastoral plays. Here we see + +into the internal process of development of this thoroughly modern + +variety of art, the opera: a powerful need here acquires an art, but + +it is a need of an unæsthetic kind: the yearning for the idyll, the + +belief in the prehistoric existence of the artistic, good man. The + +recitative was regarded as the rediscovered language of this primitive + +man; the opera as the recovered land of this[Pg 145] idyllically or heroically + +good creature, who in every action follows at the same time a natural + +artistic impulse, who sings a little along with all he has to say, in + +order to sing immediately with full voice on the slightest emotional + +excitement. It is now a matter of indifference to us that the humanists + +of those days combated the old ecclesiastical representation of man + +as naturally corrupt and lost, with this new-created picture of the + +paradisiac artist: so that opera may be understood as the oppositional + +dogma of the good man, whereby however a solace was at the same time + +found for the pessimism to which precisely the seriously-disposed + +men of that time were most strongly incited, owing to the frightful + +uncertainty of all conditions of life. It is enough to have perceived + +that the intrinsic charm, and therefore the genesis, of this new form + +of art lies in the gratification of an altogether unæsthetic need, in + +the optimistic glorification of man as such, in the conception of the + +primitive man as the man naturally good and artistic: a principle of + +the opera which has gradually changed into a threatening and terrible + +demand, which, in face of the socialistic movements of the present + +time, we can no longer ignore. The "good primitive man" wants his + +rights: what paradisiac prospects!

+ + + +

I here place by way of parallel still another equally obvious + +confirmation of my view that opera is built up on the same principles + +as our Alexandrine culture. Opera is the birth of the theoretical man, + +of the critical layman, not of the artist: one of the most surprising + +facts in the[Pg 146] whole history of art. It was the demand of thoroughly + +unmusical hearers that the words must above all be understood, so + +that according to them a re-birth of music is only to be expected + +when some mode of singing has been discovered in which the text-word + +lords over the counterpoint as the master over the servant. For the + +words, it is argued, are as much nobler than the accompanying harmonic + +system as the soul is nobler than the body. It was in accordance with + +the laically unmusical crudeness of these views that the combination + +of music, picture and expression was effected in the beginnings of + +the opera: in the spirit of this æsthetics the first experiments + +were also made in the leading laic circles of Florence by the poets + +and singers patronised there. The man incapable of art creates for + +himself a species of art precisely because he is the inartistic man + +as such. Because he does not divine the Dionysian depth of music, he + +changes his musical taste into appreciation of the understandable + +word-and-tone-rhetoric of the passions in the stilo rappresentativo, + +and into the voluptuousness of the arts of song; because he is unable + +to behold a vision, he forces the machinist and the decorative artist + +into his service; because he cannot apprehend the true nature of the + +artist, he conjures up the "artistic primitive man" to suit his taste, + +that is, the man who sings and recites verses under the influence + +of passion. He dreams himself into a time when passion suffices to + +generate songs and poems: as if emotion had ever been able to create + +anything artistic. The postulate of the opera is a false[Pg 147] belief + +concerning the artistic process, in fact, the idyllic belief that every + +sentient man is an artist. In the sense of this belief, opera is the + +expression of the taste of the laity in art, who dictate their laws + +with the cheerful optimism of the theorist.

+ + + +

Should we desire to unite in one the two conceptions just set forth + +as influential in the origin of opera, it would only remain for us to + +speak of an idyllic tendency of the opera: in which connection we + +may avail ourselves exclusively of the phraseology and illustration of + +Schiller.[22] "Nature and the ideal," he says, "are either objects of + +grief, when the former is represented as lost, the latter unattained; + +or both are objects of joy, in that they are represented as real. + +The first case furnishes the elegy in its narrower signification, + +the second the idyll in its widest sense." Here we must at once call + +attention to the common characteristic of these two conceptions in + +operatic genesis, namely, that in them the ideal is not regarded as + +unattained or nature as lost Agreeably to this sentiment, there was + +a primitive age of man when he lay close to the heart of nature, + +and, owing to this naturalness, had attained the ideal of mankind in + +a paradisiac goodness and artist-organisation: from which perfect + +primitive man all of us were supposed to be descended; whose faithful + +copy we were in fact still said to be: only we had to cast off some + +few things in order to recognise ourselves once more as this primitive + +man, on the strength of a voluntary renunciation of superfluous + +learnedness, of super-abundant[Pg 148] culture. It was to such a concord of + +nature and the ideal, to an idyllic reality, that the cultured man + +of the Renaissance suffered himself to be led back by his operatic + +imitation of Greek tragedy; he made use of this tragedy, as Dante made + +use of Vergil, in order to be led up to the gates of paradise: while + +from this point he went on without assistance and passed over from an + +imitation of the highest form of Greek art to a "restoration of all + +things," to an imitation of man's original art-world. What delightfully + +naïve hopefulness of these daring endeavours, in the very heart of + +theoretical culture!—solely to be explained by the comforting belief, + +that "man-in-himself" is the eternally virtuous hero of the opera, + +the eternally fluting or singing shepherd, who must always in the end + +rediscover himself as such, if he has at any time really lost himself; + +solely the fruit of the optimism, which here rises like a sweetishly + +seductive column of vapour out of the depth of the Socratic conception + +of the world.

+ + + +

The features of the opera therefore do not by any means exhibit the + +elegiac sorrow of an eternal loss, but rather the cheerfulness of + +eternal rediscovery, the indolent delight in an idyllic reality which + +one can at least represent to one's self each moment as real: and in + +so doing one will perhaps surmise some day that this supposed reality + +is nothing but a fantastically silly dawdling, concerning which every + +one, who could judge it by the terrible earnestness of true nature + +and compare it with the actual primitive scenes of the beginnings of + +mankind, would have to call out with loathing: Away with[Pg 149] the phantom! + +Nevertheless one would err if one thought it possible to frighten + +away merely by a vigorous shout such a dawdling thing as the opera, + +as if it were a spectre. He who would destroy the opera must join + +issue with Alexandrine cheerfulness, which expresses itself so naïvely + +therein concerning its favourite representation; of which in fact + +it is the specific form of art. But what is to be expected for art + +itself from the operation of a form of art, the beginnings of which + +do not at all lie in the æsthetic province; which has rather stolen + +over from a half-moral sphere into the artistic domain, and has been + +able only now and then to delude us concerning this hybrid origin? By + +what sap is this parasitic opera-concern nourished, if not by that + +of true art? Must we not suppose that the highest and indeed the + +truly serious task of art—to free the eye from its glance into the + +horrors of night and to deliver the "subject" by the healing balm of + +appearance from the spasms of volitional agitations—will degenerate + +under the influence of its idyllic seductions and Alexandrine + +adulation to an empty dissipating tendency, to pastime? What will + +become of the eternal truths of the Dionysian and Apollonian in such + +an amalgamation of styles as I have exhibited in the character of the + +stilo rappresentativo? where music is regarded as the servant, the + +text as the master, where music is compared with the body, the text + +with the soul? where at best the highest aim will be the realisation + +of a paraphrastic tone-painting, just as formerly in the New Attic + +Dithyramb? where music is[Pg 150] completely alienated from its true dignity + +of being, the Dionysian mirror of the world, so that the only thing + +left to it is, as a slave of phenomena, to imitate the formal character + +thereof, and to excite an external pleasure in the play of lines and + +proportions. On close observation, this fatal influence of the opera + +on music is seen to coincide absolutely with the universal development + +of modern music; the optimism lurking in the genesis of the opera and + +in the essence of culture represented thereby, has, with alarming + +rapidity, succeeded in divesting music of its Dionyso-cosmic mission + +and in impressing on it a playfully formal and pleasurable character: a + +change with which perhaps only the metamorphosis of the Æschylean man + +into the cheerful Alexandrine man could be compared.

+ + + +

If, however, in the exemplification herewith indicated we have rightly + +associated the evanescence of the Dionysian spirit with a most + +striking, but hitherto unexplained transformation and degeneration of + +the Hellene—what hopes must revive in us when the most trustworthy + +auspices guarantee the reverse process, the gradual awakening of + +the Dionysian spirit in our modern world! It is impossible for the + +divine strength of Herakles to languish for ever in voluptuous bondage + +to Omphale. Out of the Dionysian root of the German spirit a power + +has arisen which has nothing in common with the primitive conditions + +of Socratic culture, and can neither be explained nor excused + +thereby, but is rather regarded by this culture as something terribly + +inexplicable and overwhelmingly hostile,mdash;namely, German music as + +we have to understand[Pg 151] it, especially in its vast solar orbit from + +Bach to Beethoven, from Beethoven to Wagner. What even under the most + +favourable circumstances can the knowledge-craving Socratism of our + +days do with this demon rising from unfathomable depths? Neither by + +means of the zig-zag and arabesque work of operatic melody, nor with + +the aid of the arithmetical counting board of fugue and contrapuntal + +dialectics is the formula to be found, in the trebly powerful light[23] + +of which one could subdue this demon and compel it to speak. What + +a spectacle, when our æsthetes, with a net of "beauty" peculiar to + +themselves, now pursue and clutch at the genius of music romping + +about before them with incomprehensible life, and in so doing display + +activities which are not to be judged by the standard of eternal beauty + +any more than by the standard of the sublime. Let us but observe these + +patrons of music as they are, at close range, when they call out so + +indefatigably "beauty! beauty!" to discover whether they have the marks + +of nature's darling children who are fostered and fondled in the lap + +of the beautiful, or whether they do not rather seek a disguise for + +their own rudeness, an æsthetical pretext for their own unemotional + +insipidity: I am thinking here, for instance, of Otto Jahn. But let the + +liar and the hypocrite beware of our German music: for in the midst + +of all our culture it is really the only genuine, pure and purifying + +fire-spirit from which and towards which, as in the teaching of the + +great[Pg 152] Heraclitus of Ephesus, all things move in a double orbit-all + +that we now call culture, education, civilisation, must appear some day + +before the unerring judge, Dionysus.

+ + + +

Let us recollect furthermore how Kant and Schopenhauer made it + +possible for the spirit of German philosophy streaming from the + +same sources to annihilate the satisfied delight in existence of + +scientific Socratism by the delimitation of the boundaries thereof; how + +through this delimitation an infinitely profounder and more serious + +view of ethical problems and of art was inaugurated, which we may + +unhesitatingly designate as Dionysian wisdom comprised in concepts. + +To what then does the mystery of this oneness of German music and + +philosophy point, if not to a new form of existence, concerning the + +substance of which we can only inform ourselves presentiently from + +Hellenic analogies? For to us who stand on the boundary line between + +two different forms of existence, the Hellenic prototype retains the + +immeasurable value, that therein all these transitions and struggles + +are imprinted in a classically instructive form: except that we, as + +it were, experience analogically in reverse order the chief epochs + +of the Hellenic genius, and seem now, for instance, to pass backwards + +from the Alexandrine age to the period of tragedy. At the same time + +we have the feeling that the birth of a tragic age betokens only a + +return to itself of the German spirit, a blessed self-rediscovering + +after excessive and urgent external influences have for a long time + +compelled it, living as it did in[Pg 153] helpless barbaric formlessness, to + +servitude under their form. It may at last, after returning to the + +primitive source of its being, venture to stalk along boldly and freely + +before all nations without hugging the leading-strings of a Romanic + +civilisation: if only it can learn implicitly of one people—the + +Greeks, of whom to learn at all is itself a high honour and a rare + +distinction. And when did we require these highest of all teachers more + +than at present, when we experience a re-birth of tragedy and are in + +danger alike of not knowing whence it comes, and of being unable to + +make clear to ourselves whither it tends.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[22] Essay on Elegiac Poetry.—TR.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[23] See Faust, Part 1.1. 965—TR.

+ + + + + + + +

20.

+ + + + + +

It may be weighed some day before an impartial judge, in what time and + +in what men the German spirit has thus far striven most resolutely to + +learn of the Greeks: and if we confidently assume that this unique + +praise must be accorded to the noblest intellectual efforts of Goethe, + +Schiller, and Winkelmann, it will certainly have to be added that + +since their time, and subsequently to the more immediate influences of + +these efforts, the endeavour to attain to culture and to the Greeks by + +this path has in an incomprehensible manner grown feebler and feebler. + +In order not to despair altogether of the German spirit, must we not + +infer therefrom that possibly, in some essential matter, even these + +champions could not penetrate into the core of the Hellenic nature, + +and were unable to establish a permanent[Pg 154] friendly alliance between + +German and Greek culture? So that perhaps an unconscious perception + +of this shortcoming might raise also in more serious minds the + +disheartening doubt as to whether after such predecessors they could + +advance still farther on this path of culture, or could reach the goal + +at all. Accordingly, we see the opinions concerning the value of Greek + +contribution to culture degenerate since that time in the most alarming + +manner; the expression of compassionate superiority may be heard + +in the most heterogeneous intellectual and non-intellectual camps, + +and elsewhere a totally ineffective declamation dallies with "Greek + +harmony," "Greek beauty," "Greek cheerfulness." And in the very circles + +whose dignity it might be to draw indefatigably from the Greek channel + +for the good of German culture, in the circles of the teachers in the + +higher educational institutions, they have learned best to compromise + +with the Greeks in good time and on easy terms, to the extent often of + +a sceptical abandonment of the Hellenic ideal and a total perversion of + +the true purpose of antiquarian studies. If there be any one at all in + +these circles who has not completely exhausted himself in the endeavour + +to be a trustworthy corrector of old texts or a natural-history + +microscopist of language, he perhaps seeks also to appropriate Grecian + +antiquity "historically" along with other antiquities, and in any case + +according to the method and with the supercilious air of our present + +cultured historiography. When, therefore, the intrinsic efficiency + +of the higher educational[Pg 155] institutions has never perhaps been lower + +or feebler than at present, when the "journalist," the paper slave + +of the day, has triumphed over the academic teacher in all matters + +pertaining to culture, and there only remains to the latter the often + +previously experienced metamorphosis of now fluttering also, as a + +cheerful cultured butterfly, in the idiom of the journalist, with the + +"light elegance" peculiar thereto—with what painful confusion must the + +cultured persons of a period like the present gaze at the phenomenon + +(which can perhaps be comprehended analogically only by means of the + +profoundest principle of the hitherto unintelligible Hellenic genius) + +of the reawakening of the Dionysian spirit and the re-birth of tragedy? + +Never has there been another art-period in which so-called culture + +and true art have been so estranged and opposed, as is so obviously + +the case at present. We understand why so feeble a culture hates true + +art; it fears destruction thereby. But must not an entire domain of + +culture, namely the Socratic-Alexandrine, have exhausted its powers + +after contriving to culminate in such a daintily-tapering point as our + +present culture? When it was not permitted to heroes like Goethe and + +Schiller to break open the enchanted gate which leads into the Hellenic + +magic mountain, when with their most dauntless striving they did not + +get beyond the longing gaze which the Goethean Iphigenia cast from + +barbaric Tauris to her home across the ocean, what could the epigones + +of such heroes hope for, if the gate should not open to them[Pg 156] suddenly + +of its own accord, in an entirely different position, quite overlooked + +in all endeavours of culture hitherto—amidst the mystic tones of + +reawakened tragic music.

+ + + +

Let no one attempt to weaken our faith in an impending re-birth of + +Hellenic antiquity; for in it alone we find our hope of a renovation + +and purification of the German spirit through the fire-magic of music. + +What else do we know of amidst the present desolation and languor + +of culture, which could awaken any comforting expectation for the + +future? We look in vain for one single vigorously-branching root, for + +a speck of fertile and healthy soil: there is dust, sand, torpidness + +and languishing everywhere! Under such circumstances a cheerless + +solitary wanderer could choose for himself no better symbol than the + +Knight with Death and the Devil, as Dürer has sketched him for us, the + +mail-clad knight, grim and stern of visage, who is able, unperturbed + +by his gruesome companions, and yet hopelessly, to pursue his terrible + +path with horse and hound alone. Our Schopenhauer was such a Dürerian + +knight: he was destitute of all hope, but he sought the truth. There is + +not his equal.

+ + + +

But how suddenly this gloomily depicted wilderness of our exhausted + +culture changes when the Dionysian magic touches it! A hurricane + +seizes everything decrepit, decaying, collapsed, and stunted; wraps + +it whirlingly into a red cloud of dust; and carries it like a vulture + +into the air. Confused thereby, our glances seek for what has vanished: + +for what they see is something risen to[Pg 157] the golden light as from + +a depression, so full and green, so luxuriantly alive, so ardently + +infinite. Tragedy sits in the midst of this exuberance of life, + +sorrow and joy, in sublime ecstasy; she listens to a distant doleful + +song—it tells of the Mothers of Being, whose names are: Wahn, Wille, + +Wehe[21]—Yes, my friends, believe with me in Dionysian life and + +in the re-birth of tragedy. The time of the Socratic man is past: + +crown yourselves with ivy, take in your hands the thyrsus, and do not + +marvel if tigers and panthers lie down fawning at your feet. Dare now + +to be tragic men, for ye are to be redeemed! Ye are to accompany the + +Dionysian festive procession from India to Greece! Equip yourselves for + +severe conflict, but believe in the wonders of your god!

+ + + + + + + +

21.

+ + + + + +

Gliding back from these hortative tones into the mood which befits + +the contemplative man, I repeat that it can only be learnt from the + +Greeks what such a sudden and miraculous awakening of tragedy must + +signify for the essential basis of a people's life. It is the people + +of the tragic mysteries who fight the battles with the Persians: and + +again, the people who waged such wars required tragedy as a necessary + +healing potion. Who would have imagined that there was still such a + +uniformly powerful effusion of the simplest political sentiments, the + +most natural domestic[Pg 158] instincts and the primitive manly delight in + +strife in this very people after it had been shaken to its foundations + +for several generations by the most violent convulsions of the + +Dionysian demon? If at every considerable spreading of the Dionysian + +commotion one always perceives that the Dionysian loosing from the + +shackles of the individual makes itself felt first of all in an + +increased encroachment on the political instincts, to the extent of + +indifference, yea even hostility, it is certain, on the other hand, + +that the state-forming Apollo is also the genius of the principium + +individuationis, and that the state and domestic sentiment cannot live + +without an assertion of individual personality. There is only one way + +from orgasm for a people,—the way to Indian Buddhism, which, in order + +to be at all endured with its longing for nothingness, requires the + +rare ecstatic states with their elevation above space, time, and the + +individual; just as these in turn demand a philosophy which teaches how + +to overcome the indescribable depression of the intermediate states by + +means of a fancy. With the same necessity, owing to the unconditional + +dominance of political impulses, a people drifts into a path of + +extremest secularisation, the most magnificent, but also the most + +terrible expression of which is the Roman imperium.

+ + + +

Placed between India and Rome, and constrained to a seductive choice, + +the Greeks succeeded in devising in classical purity still a third form + +of life, not indeed for long private use, but just on that account for + +immortality. For it[Pg 159] holds true in all things that those whom the gods + +love die young, but, on the other hand, it holds equally true that they + +then live eternally with the gods. One must not demand of what is most + +noble that it should possess the durable toughness of leather; the + +staunch durability, which, for instance, was inherent in the national + +character of the Romans, does not probably belong to the indispensable + +predicates of perfection. But if we ask by what physic it was possible + +for the Greeks, in their best period, notwithstanding the extraordinary + +strength of their Dionysian and political impulses, neither to exhaust + +themselves by ecstatic brooding, nor by a consuming scramble for empire + +and worldly honour, but to attain the splendid mixture which we find + +in a noble, inflaming, and contemplatively disposing wine, we must + +remember the enormous power of tragedy, exciting, purifying, and + +disburdening the entire life of a people; the highest value of which + +we shall divine only when, as in the case of the Greeks, it appears + +to us as the essence of all the prophylactic healing forces, as the + +mediator arbitrating between the strongest and most inherently fateful + +characteristics of a people.

+ + + +

Tragedy absorbs the highest musical orgasm into itself, so that it + +absolutely brings music to perfection among the Greeks, as among + +ourselves; but it then places alongside thereof tragic myth and the + +tragic hero, who, like a mighty Titan, takes the entire Dionysian world + +on his shoulders and disburdens us thereof; while, on the other hand, + +it is able by means of this same tragic[Pg 160] myth, in the person of the + +tragic hero, to deliver us from the intense longing for this existence, + +and reminds us with warning hand of another existence and a higher + +joy, for which the struggling hero prepares himself presentiently by + +his destruction, not by his victories. Tragedy sets a sublime symbol, + +namely the myth between the universal authority of its music and the + +receptive Dionysian hearer, and produces in him the illusion that music + +is only the most effective means for the animation of the plastic world + +of myth. Relying upon this noble illusion, she can now move her limbs + +for the dithyrambic dance, and abandon herself unhesitatingly to an + +orgiastic feeling of freedom, in which she could not venture to indulge + +as music itself, without this illusion. The myth protects us from the + +music, while, on the other hand, it alone gives the highest freedom + +thereto. By way of return for this service, music imparts to tragic + +myth such an impressive and convincing metaphysical significance as + +could never be attained by word and image, without this unique aid; + +and the tragic spectator in particular experiences thereby the sure + +presentiment of supreme joy to which the path through destruction and + +negation leads; so that he thinks he hears, as it were, the innermost + +abyss of things speaking audibly to him.

+ + + +

If in these last propositions I have succeeded in giving perhaps only a + +preliminary expression, intelligible to few at first, to this difficult + +representation, I must not here desist from stimulating my friends to a + +further attempt, or[Pg 161] cease from beseeching them to prepare themselves, + +by a detached example of our common experience, for the perception of + +the universal proposition. In this example I must not appeal to those + +who make use of the pictures of the scenic processes, the words and the + +emotions of the performers, in order to approximate thereby to musical + +perception; for none of these speak music as their mother-tongue, + +and, in spite of the aids in question, do not get farther than the + +precincts of musical perception, without ever being allowed to touch + +its innermost shrines; some of them, like Gervinus, do not even reach + +the precincts by this path. I have only to address myself to those + +who, being immediately allied to music, have it as it were for their + +mother's lap, and are connected with things almost exclusively by + +unconscious musical relations. I ask the question of these genuine + +musicians: whether they can imagine a man capable of hearing the third + +act of Tristan und Isolde without any aid of word or scenery, purely + +as a vast symphonic period, without expiring by a spasmodic distention + +of all the wings of the soul? A man who has thus, so to speak, put his + +ear to the heart-chamber of the cosmic will, who feels the furious + +desire for existence issuing therefrom as a thundering stream or most + +gently dispersed brook, into all the veins of the world, would he not + +collapse all at once? Could he endure, in the wretched fragile tenement + +of the human individual, to hear the re-echo of countless cries of + +joy and sorrow from the "vast void of cosmic night," without flying + +irresistibly[Pg 162] towards his primitive home at the sound of this pastoral + +dance-song of metaphysics? But if, nevertheless, such a work can be + +heard as a whole, without a renunciation of individual existence, if + +such a creation could be created without demolishing its creator—where + +are we to get the solution of this contradiction?

+ + + +

Here there interpose between our highest musical excitement and the + +music in question the tragic myth and the tragic hero—in reality only + +as symbols of the most universal facts, of which music alone can speak + +directly. If, however, we felt as purely Dionysian beings, myth as a + +symbol would stand by us absolutely ineffective and unnoticed, and + +would never for a moment prevent us from giving ear to the re-echo of + +the universalia ante rem. Here, however, the Apollonian power, with + +a view to the restoration of the well-nigh shattered individual, bursts + +forth with the healing balm of a blissful illusion: all of a sudden + +we imagine we see only Tristan, motionless, with hushed voice saying + +to himself: "the old tune, why does it wake me?" And what formerly + +interested us like a hollow sigh from the heart of being, seems now + +only to tell us how "waste and void is the sea." And when, breathless, + +we thought to expire by a convulsive distention of all our feelings, + +and only a slender tie bound us to our present existence, we now hear + +and see only the hero wounded to death and still not dying, with his + +despairing cry: "Longing! Longing! In dying still longing! for longing + +not dying!" And if formerly, after such a surplus and superabundance of + +consuming[Pg 163] agonies, the jubilation of the born rent our hearts almost + +like the very acme of agony, the rejoicing Kurwenal now stands between + +us and the "jubilation as such," with face turned toward the ship which + +carries Isolde. However powerfully fellow-suffering encroaches upon us, + +it nevertheless delivers us in a manner from the primordial suffering + +of the world, just as the symbol-image of the myth delivers us from the + +immediate perception of the highest cosmic idea, just as the thought + +and word deliver us from the unchecked effusion of the unconscious + +will. The glorious Apollonian illusion makes it appear as if the very + +realm of tones presented itself to us as a plastic cosmos, as if even + +the fate of Tristan and Isolde had been merely formed and moulded + +therein as out of some most delicate and impressible material.

+ + + +

Thus does the Apollonian wrest us from Dionysian universality and fill + +us with rapture for individuals; to these it rivets our sympathetic + +emotion, through these it satisfies the sense of beauty which longs for + +great and sublime forms; it brings before us biographical portraits, + +and incites us to a thoughtful apprehension of the essence of life + +contained therein. With the immense potency of the image, the concept, + +the ethical teaching and the sympathetic emotion—the Apollonian + +influence uplifts man from his orgiastic self-annihilation, and + +beguiles him concerning the universality of the Dionysian process + +into the belief that he is seeing a detached picture of the world, + +for instance, Tristan and Isolde,[Pg 164] and that, through music, he will + +be enabled to see it still more clearly and intrinsically. What can + +the healing magic of Apollo not accomplish when it can even excite in + +us the illusion that the Dionysian is actually in the service of the + +Apollonian, the effects of which it is capable of enhancing; yea, that + +music is essentially the representative art for an Apollonian substance?

+ + + +

With the pre-established harmony which obtains between perfect drama + +and its music, the drama attains the highest degree of conspicuousness, + +such as is usually unattainable in mere spoken drama. As all the + +animated figures of the scene in the independently evolved lines + +of melody simplify themselves before us to the distinctness of the + +catenary curve, the coexistence of these lines is also audible in the + +harmonic change which sympathises in a most delicate manner with the + +evolved process: through which change the relations of things become + +immediately perceptible to us in a sensible and not at all abstract + +manner, as we likewise perceive thereby that it is only in these + +relations that the essence of a character and of a line of melody + +manifests itself clearly. And while music thus compels us to see more + +extensively and more intrinsically than usual, and makes us spread out + +the curtain of the scene before ourselves like some delicate texture, + +the world of the stage is as infinitely expanded for our spiritualised, + +introspective eye as it is illumined outwardly from within. How can + +the word-poet furnish anything analogous, who strives to attain this + +internal[Pg 165] expansion and illumination of the visible stage-world by a + +much more imperfect mechanism and an indirect path, proceeding as he + +does from word and concept? Albeit musical tragedy likewise avails + +itself of the word, it is at the same time able to place alongside + +thereof its basis and source, and can make the unfolding of the word, + +from within outwards, obvious to us.

+ + + +

Of the process just set forth, however, it could still be said + +as decidedly that it is only a glorious appearance, namely the + +afore-mentioned Apollonian illusion, through the influence of which + +we are to be delivered from the Dionysian obtrusion and excess. + +In point of fact, the relation of music to drama is precisely the + +reverse; music is the adequate idea of the world, drama is but the + +reflex of this idea, a detached umbrage thereof. The identity between + +the line of melody and the lining form, between the harmony and the + +character-relations of this form, is true in a sense antithetical to + +what one would suppose on the contemplation of musical tragedy. We + +may agitate and enliven the form in the most conspicuous manner, and + +enlighten it from within, but it still continues merely phenomenon, + +from which there is no bridge to lead us into the true reality, into + +the heart of the world. Music, however, speaks out of this heart; and + +though countless phenomena of the kind might be passing manifestations + +of this music, they could never exhaust its essence, but would always + +be merely its externalised copies. Of course, as regards the intricate + +relation of music and drama, nothing can be explained,[Pg 166] while all may + +be confused by the popular and thoroughly false antithesis of soul and + +body; but the unphilosophical crudeness of this antithesis seems to + +have become—who knows for what reasons—a readily accepted Article of + +Faith with our æstheticians, while they have learned nothing concerning + +an antithesis of phenomenon and thing-in-itself, or perhaps, for + +reasons equally unknown, have not cared to learn anything thereof.

+ + + +

Should it have been established by our analysis that the Apollonian + +element in tragedy has by means of its illusion gained a complete + +victory over the Dionysian primordial element of music, and has made + +music itself subservient to its end, namely, the highest and clearest + +elucidation of the drama, it would certainly be necessary to add the + +very important restriction: that at the most essential point this + +Apollonian illusion is dissolved and annihilated. The drama, which, by + +the aid of music, spreads out before us with such inwardly illumined + +distinctness in all its movements and figures, that we imagine we + +see the texture unfolding on the loom as the shuttle flies to and + +fro,—attains as a whole an effect which transcends all Apollonian + +artistic effects. In the collective effect of tragedy, the Dionysian + +gets the upper hand once more; tragedy ends with a sound which could + +never emanate from the realm of Apollonian art. And the Apollonian + +illusion is thereby found to be what it is,—the assiduous veiling + +during the performance of tragedy of the intrinsically Dionysian + +effect: which, however, is so powerful, that it[Pg 167] finally forces + +the Apollonian drama itself into a sphere where it begins to talk + +with Dionysian wisdom, and even denies itself and its Apollonian + +conspicuousness. Thus then the intricate relation of the Apollonian and + +the Dionysian in tragedy must really be symbolised by a fraternal union + +of the two deities: Dionysus speaks the language of Apollo; Apollo, + +however, finally speaks the language of Dionysus; and so the highest + +goal of tragedy and of art in general is attained.

+ + + + + + + +

22.

+ + + + + +

Let the attentive friend picture to himself purely and simply, + +according to his experiences, the effect of a true musical tragedy. I + +think I have so portrayed the phenomenon of this effect in both its + +phases that he will now be able to interpret his own experiences. For + +he will recollect that with regard to the myth which passed before + +him he felt himself exalted to a kind of omniscience, as if his + +visual faculty were no longer merely a surface faculty, but capable + +of penetrating into the interior, and as if he now saw before him, + +with the aid of music, the ebullitions of the will, the conflict of + +motives, and the swelling stream of the passions, almost sensibly + +visible, like a plenitude of actively moving lines and figures, and + +could thereby dip into the most tender secrets of unconscious emotions. + +While he thus becomes conscious of the highest exaltation of his + +instincts for conspicuousness and transfiguration, he nevertheless + +feels with equal[Pg 168] definitiveness that this long series of Apollonian + +artistic effects still does not generate the blissful continuance in + +will-less contemplation which the plasticist and the epic poet, that + +is to say, the strictly Apollonian artists, produce in him by their + +artistic productions: to wit, the justification of the world of the + +individuatio attained in this contemplation,—which is the object + +and essence of Apollonian art. He beholds the transfigured world of + +the stage and nevertheless denies it. He sees before him the tragic + +hero in epic clearness and beauty, and nevertheless delights in his + +annihilation. He comprehends the incidents of the scene in all their + +details, and yet loves to flee into the incomprehensible. He feels the + +actions of the hero to be justified, and is nevertheless still more + +elated when these actions annihilate their originator. He shudders at + +the sufferings which will befall the hero, and yet anticipates therein + +a higher and much more overpowering joy. He sees more extensively and + +profoundly than ever, and yet wishes to be blind. Whence must we derive + +this curious internal dissension, this collapse of the Apollonian apex, + +if not from the Dionysian spell, which, though apparently stimulating + +the Apollonian emotions to their highest pitch, can nevertheless force + +this superabundance of Apollonian power into its service? Tragic + +myth is to be understood only as a symbolisation of Dionysian wisdom + +by means of the expedients of Apollonian art: the mythus conducts the + +world of phenomena to its boundaries, where it denies itself, and seeks + +to flee back again into the bosom of the true and only reality; where + +it then, like[Pg 169] Isolde, seems to strike up its metaphysical swan-song:—

+ + + +

+ +In des Wonnemeeres
+ +wogendem Schwall,
+ +in der Duft-Wellen
+ +tönendem Schall,
+ +in des Weltathems
+ +wehendem All—
+ +ertrinken—versinken
+ +unbewusst—höchste Lust![24]
+

-

-CHAPTER XIX -

- -

-UDO BEHAVES LIKE A GENTLEMAN -

- -

-"And now," said Coronel, "we'd better decide what to do." -

- -

-"But I don't mind what we do now," said Hyacinth happily. "She may -have the throne and Father and Udo, and—and anything else she can -get, and I shan't mind a bit. You see, I have got you now, Coronel, -and I can never be jealous of anybody again." -

- -

-"That's what makes it so jolly. We can do what we like, and it -doesn't matter if it doesn't come off. So just for fun let's think of -something to pay her out." -

- -

-"I feel I don't want to hurt anybody to-day." -

- -

-"All right, we won't hurt her, we'll humour her. We will be her most -humble obedient servants. She shall have everything she wants." -

- -

-"Including Prince Udo," smiled Hyacinth. -

- -

-"That's a splendid idea. We'll make her have Udo. It will annoy your -father, but one can't please everybody. Oh, I can see myself enjoying -this." -

- -

-They got up and wandered back along Wiggs's path, hand in hand. -

- -

-"I'm almost afraid to leave the forest," said Hyacinth, "in case -something happens." -

- -

-"What should happen?" -

- -

-"I don't know; but all our life together has been in the forest, and -I'm just a little afraid of the world." -

- -

-"I will be very close to you always, Hyacinth." -

- -

-"Be very close, Coronel," she whispered, and then they walked out -together. -

- -

-If any of the servants at the Palace were surprised to see Coronel, -they did not show it. After all, that was their business. -

- -

-"Prince Coronel will be staying here," said the Princess. "Prepare a -room for him and some refreshment for us both." And if they discussed -those things in the servants' halls of those days (as why should they -not?), no doubt they told each other that the Princess Hyacinth (bless -her pretty face!) had found her man at last. Why, you only had to see -her looking at him. But I get no assistance from Roger at this point; -he pretends that he has a mind far above the gossip of the lower -orders. -

- -

-"I say," said Coronel, as they went up the grand staircase, "I am not -a Prince, you know. Don't say I have deceived you." -

- -

-"You are my Prince," said Hyacinth proudly. -

- -

-"My dear, I am a king among men to-day, and you are my queen, but -that's in our own special country of two." -

- -

-"If you are so particular," said Hyacinth, with a smile, "Father will -make you a proper Prince directly he comes back." -

- -

-"Will he? That's what I'm wondering. You see he doesn't know yet -about our little present to the Countess." -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-But it is quite time we got back to Belvane; we have left her alone -too long. It was more than Udo did. Just now he was with her in her -garden, telling her for the fifth time an extraordinarily dull story -about an encounter of his with a dragon, apparently in its dotage, to -which Belvane was listening with an interest which surprised even the -narrator. -

- -

-"And then," said Udo, "I jumped quickly to the right, and whirling -my—no, wait a bit, that was later—I jumped quickly to my left—yes, -I remember it now, it was my left—I jumped quickly to my left, and -whirling my——" -

- -

-He stopped suddenly at the expression on Belvane's face. She was -looking over his shoulder at something behind him. -

- -

-"Why, whoever is this?" she said, getting to her feet. -

- -

-Before Udo had completely cleared his mind of his dragon, the Princess -and Coronel were upon them. -

- -

-"Ah, Countess, I thought we should find you together," said Hyacinth -archly. "Let me present to you my friend, the Duke Coronel. Coronel, -this is Countess Belvane, a very dear and faithful friend of mine. -Prince Udo, of course, you know. His Royal Highness and the Countess -are—well, it isn't generally known at present, so perhaps I oughtn't -to say anything." -

- -

-Coronel made a deep bow to the astonished Belvane. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"Your humble servant," he said. "You will, I am sure, forgive me if I -say how glad I am to hear your news. Udo is one of my oldest -friends"—he turned and clapped that bewildered Highness on the -back—"aren't you, Udo? and I can think of no one more suitable in -every way." He bowed again, and turned back to the Prince. "Well, -Udo, you're looking splendid. A different thing, Countess, from when -I last saw him. Let me see, that must have been just the day before -he arrived in Euralia. Ah, what a miracle-worker True Love is!" -

- -

-I think one of the things which made Belvane so remarkable was that -she was never afraid of remaining silent when she was not quite sure -what to say. She waited therefore while she considered what all this -meant; who Coronel was, what he was doing there, even whether a -marriage with Udo was not after all the best that she could hope for -now. -

- -

-Meanwhile Udo, of course, blundered along gaily. -

- -

-"We aren't exactly, Princess—I mean——What are you doing here, -Coronel?—I didn't know, Princess, that you—— The Countess and I -were just having a little—I was just telling her what you said -about—How did you get here, Coronel?" -

- -

-"Shall we tell him?" said Coronel, with a smile at Hyacinth. -

- -

-Hyacinth nodded. -

- -

-"I rode," said Coronel. "It's a secret," he added. -

- -

-"But I didn't know that you——" -

- -

-"We find that we have really known each other a very long time," -explained Hyacinth. -

- -

-"And hearing that there was to be a wedding," added Coronel—— -

- -

-Belvane made up her mind. Coronel was evidently a very different man -from Udo. If he stayed in Euralia as adviser—more than adviser she -guessed—to Hyacinth, her own position would not be in much doubt. -And as for the King, it might be months before he came back, and when -he did come would he remember her? But to be Queen of Araby was no -mean thing. -

- -

-"We didn't want it to be known yet," she said shyly, "but you have -guessed our secret, your Royal Highness." She looked modestly at the -ground, and, feeling for her reluctant lover's hand, went on, "Udo and -I"—here she squeezed the hand, and, finding it was Coronel's, took -Udo's boldly without any more maidenly nonsense—"Udo and I love each -other." -

- -

-"Say something, Udo," prompted Coronel. -

- -

-"Er—yes," said Udo, very unwillingly, and deciding he would explain -it all afterwards. Whatever his feelings for the Countess, he was not -going to be rushed into a marriage. -

- -

-"Oh, I'm so glad," said Hyacinth. "I felt somehow that it must be -coming, because you've seen so much of each other lately. Wiggs and -I have often talked about it together." -

- -

-("What has happened to the child?" thought Belvane. "She isn't a -child at all, she's grown up.") -

- -

-"There's no holding Udo once he begins," volunteered Coronel. "He's -the most desperate lover in Araby. -

- -

-"My father will be so excited when he hears," said Hyacinth. "You -know, of course, that his Majesty comes back to-morrow with all his -army." -

- -

-She did not swoon or utter a cry. She did not plead the vapours or -the megrims. She took unflinching what must have been the biggest -shock in her life. -

- -

-"Then perhaps I had better see that everything is ready in the -Palace," she said, "if your Royal Highness will excuse me." And with -a curtsey she was gone. -

- -

-Coronel exchanged a glance with Hyacinth. "I'm enjoying this," he -seemed to say. -

- -

-"Well," she announced, "I must be going in, too. There'll be much to -see about." -

- -

-Coronel was left alone with the most desperate lover in Araby. -

- -

-"And now," said the Prince, "tell me what you are doing here." -

- -

-Coronel put his arm in Udo's and walked him up and down the flagged -path. -

- -

-"Your approaching marriage," he said, "is the talk of Araby. -Naturally I had to come here to see for myself what she was like. My -dear Udo, she's charming; I congratulate you." -

- -

-"Don't be a fool, Coronel. I haven't the slightest intention of -marrying her." -

- -

-"Then why have you told everybody that you are going to?" -

- -

-"You know quite well I haven't told anybody. There hasn't been a -single word about it mentioned until you pushed your way in just now." -

- -

-"Ah, well, perhaps you hadn't heard about it. But the Princess knows, -the Countess knows, and I know—yes, I think you may take our word for -it that it's true." -

- -

-"I haven't the slightest intention—what do you keep clinging to my -arm like this for? -

- -

-"My dear Udo, I'm so delighted to see you again. Don't turn your back -on old friendships just because you have found a nobler and a -truer—— Oh, very well, if you're going to drop all your former -friends, go on then. But when I'm married, there will always be a -place for——" -

- -

-"Understand once and for all," said Udo angrily, "that I am not -getting married. No, don't take my arm—we can talk quite well like -this." -

- -

-"I am sorry, Udo," said Coronel meekly; "we seem to have made a -mistake. But you must admit we found you in a very compromising -position." -

- -

-"It wasn't in the least compromising," protested Udo indignantly. "As -a matter of fact I was just telling her about that dragon I killed in -Araby last year." -

- -

-"Ah, and who would listen to a hopeless story like that, but the woman -one was going to marry?" -

- -

-"Once more, I am not going to marry her." -

- -

-"Well, you must please yourself, but you have compromised her severely -with that story. Poor innocent girl. Well, let's forget about it. -And now tell me, how do you like Euralia?" -

- -

-"I am returning to Araby this afternoon," said Udo stiffly. -

- -

-"Well, perhaps you're right. I hope that nothing will happen to you -on the way." -

- -

-Udo, who was about to enter the Palace, turned round with a startled -look. -

- -

-"What do you mean?" -

- -

-"Well, something happened on the way here. By the by, how did that -happen? You never told me." -

- -

-"Your precious Countess, whom you expect me to marry." -

- -

-"How very unkind of her. A nasty person to annoy." He was silent for -a moment, and then added thoughtfully, "I suppose it is rather -annoying to think you're going to marry somebody whom you love very -much, and then find you're not going to." -

- -

-Udo evidently hadn't thought of this. He tried to show that he was -not in the least frightened. -

- -

-"She couldn't do anything. It was only by a lucky chance she did it -last time." -

- -

-"Yes, but of course the chance might come again. You'd have the thing -hanging over you always. She's clever, you know; and I should never -feel quite safe if she were my enemy. . . . Lovely flowers, aren't -they? What's the name of this one?" -

- -

-Udo dropped undecidedly into a seat. This wanted thinking out. The -Countess—what was wrong with her, after all? And she evidently adored -him. Of course that was not surprising; the question was, was it fair -to disappoint one who had, perhaps, some little grounds for——? -After all, he had been no more gallant than was customary from a -Prince and a gentleman to a beautiful woman. It was her own fault if -she had mistaken his intentions. Of course he ought to have left -Euralia long ago. But he had stayed on, and—well, decidedly she was -beautiful—perhaps he had paid rather too much attention to that. And -he had certainly neglected the Princess a little. After all, again, -why not marry the Countess? It was absurd to suppose there was -anything in Coronel's nonsense, but one never knew. Not that he was -marrying her out of fear. No; certainly not. It was simply a -chivalrous whim on his part. The poor woman had misunderstood him, -and she should not be disappointed. -

- -

-"She seems fond of flowers," said Coronel. "You ought to make the -Palace garden look beautiful between you." -

- -

-"Now, understand clearly, Coronel, I'm not in the least frightened by -the Countess." -

- -

-"My dear Udo, what a speech for a lover! Of course you're not. After -all, what you bore with such patience and dignity once, you can bear -again." -

- -

-"That subject is distasteful to me. I must ask you not to refer to -it. If I marry the Countess——" -

- -

-"You'll be a very lucky man," put in Coronel. "I happen to know that -the King of Euralia—however, she's chosen you, it seems. Personally, -I can't make out what she sees in you. What is it?" -

- -

-"I should have thought it was quite obvious," said Udo with dignity. -"Well, Coronel, I think perhaps you are right and that it's my duty to -marry her." -

- -

-Coronel shook him solemnly by the hand. -

- -

-"I congratulate your Royal Highness. I will announce your decision to -the Princess. She will be much amu—much delighted." And he turned -into the Palace. -

- -

-Pity him, you lovers. He had not seen Hyacinth for nearly ten -minutes. -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Detail of dark-haired girl in a pastoral scene] + + +

We thus realise to ourselves in the experiences of the truly æsthetic + +hearer the tragic artist himself when he proceeds like a luxuriously + +fertile divinity of individuation to create his figures (in which sense + +his work can hardly be understood as an "imitation of nature")—and + +when, on the other hand, his vast Dionysian impulse then absorbs the + +entire world of phenomena, in order to anticipate beyond it, and + +through its annihilation, the highest artistic primal joy, in the bosom + +of the Primordial Unity. Of course, our æsthetes have nothing to say + +about this return in fraternal union of the two art-deities to the + +original home, nor of either the Apollonian or Dionysian excitement + +of the hearer,[Pg 170] while they are indefatigable in characterising the + +struggle of the hero with fate, the triumph of the moral order of the + +world, or the disburdenment of the emotions through tragedy, as the + +properly Tragic: an indefatigableness which makes me think that they + +are perhaps not æsthetically excitable men at all, but only to be + +regarded as moral beings when hearing tragedy. Never since Aristotle + +has an explanation of the tragic effect been proposed, by which an + +æsthetic activity of the hearer could be inferred from artistic + +circumstances. At one time fear and pity are supposed to be forced to + +an alleviating discharge through the serious procedure, at another time + +we are expected to feel elevated and inspired at the triumph of good + +and noble principles, at the sacrifice of the hero in the interest of + +a moral conception of things; and however certainly I believe that for + +countless men precisely this, and only this, is the effect of tragedy, + +it as obviously follows therefrom that all these, together with their + +interpreting æsthetes, have had no experience of tragedy as the highest + +art. The pathological discharge, the catharsis of Aristotle, which + +philologists are at a loss whether to include under medicinal or moral + +phenomena, recalls a remarkable anticipation of Goethe. "Without a + +lively pathological interest," he says, "I too have never yet succeeded + +in elaborating a tragic situation of any kind, and hence I have rather + +avoided than sought it. Can it perhaps have been still another of the + +merits of the ancients that the deepest pathos was with them merely + +æsthetic play, whereas with us the truth of nature must[Pg 171] co-operate in + +order to produce such a work?" We can now answer in the affirmative + +this latter profound question after our glorious experiences, in which + +we have found to our astonishment in the case of musical tragedy + +itself, that the deepest pathos can in reality be merely æsthetic play: + +and therefore we are justified in believing that now for the first time + +the proto-phenomenon of the tragic can be portrayed with some degree + +of success. He who now will still persist in talking only of those + +vicarious effects proceeding from ultra-æsthetic spheres, and does not + +feel himself raised above the pathologically-moral process, may be left + +to despair of his æsthetic nature: for which we recommend to him, by + +way of innocent equivalent, the interpretation of Shakespeare after the + +fashion of Gervinus, and the diligent search for poetic justice.

+ + + +

Thus with the re-birth of tragedy the æsthetic hearer is also + +born anew, in whose place in the theatre a curious quid pro quo + +was wont to sit with half-moral and half-learned pretensions,—the + +"critic." In his sphere hitherto everything has been artificial and + +merely glossed over with a semblance of life. The performing artist + +was in fact at a loss what to do with such a critically comporting + +hearer, and hence he, as well as the dramatist or operatic composer + +who inspired him, searched anxiously for the last remains of life + +in a being so pretentiously barren and incapable of enjoyment. Such + +"critics," however, have hitherto constituted the public; the student, + +the school-boy, yea, even the most harmless womanly creature,[Pg 172] were + +already unwittingly prepared by education and by journals for a similar + +perception of works of art. The nobler natures among the artists + +counted upon exciting the moral-religious forces in such a public, + +and the appeal to a moral order of the world operated vicariously, + +when in reality some powerful artistic spell should have enraptured + +the true hearer. Or again, some imposing or at all events exciting + +tendency of the contemporary political and social world was presented + +by the dramatist with such vividness that the hearer could forget his + +critical exhaustion and abandon himself to similar emotions, as, in + +patriotic or warlike moments, before the tribune of parliament, or + +at the condemnation of crime and vice:—an estrangement of the true + +aims of art which could not but lead directly now and then to a cult + +of tendency. But here there took place what has always taken place + +in the case of factitious arts, an extraordinary rapid depravation + +of these tendencies, so that for instance the tendency to employ the + +theatre as a means for the moral education of the people, which in + +Schiller's time was taken seriously, is already reckoned among the + +incredible antiquities of a surmounted culture. While the critic got + +the upper hand in the theatre and concert-hall, the journalist in the + +school, and the press in society, art degenerated into a topic of + +conversation of the most trivial kind, and æsthetic criticism was used + +as the cement of a vain, distracted, selfish and moreover piteously + +unoriginal sociality, the significance of which is suggested by the + +Schopenhauerian parable of the porcupines, so that there[Pg 173] has never + +been so much gossip about art and so little esteem for it. But is it + +still possible to have intercourse with a man capable of conversing on + +Beethoven or Shakespeare? Let each answer this question according to + +his sentiments: he will at any rate show by his answer his conception + +of "culture," provided he tries at least to answer the question, and + +has not already grown mute with astonishment.

+ + + +

On the other hand, many a one more nobly and delicately endowed by + +nature, though he may have gradually become a critical barbarian + +in the manner described, could tell of the unexpected as well as + +totally unintelligible effect which a successful performance of + +Lohengrin, for example, exerted on him: except that perhaps every + +warning and interpreting hand was lacking to guide him; so that the + +incomprehensibly heterogeneous and altogether incomparable sensation + +which then affected him also remained isolated and became extinct, like + +a mysterious star after a brief brilliancy. He then divined what the + +æsthetic hearer is.

+ + + + + +
+ + + +

[24] +

-

-CHAPTER XX -

- -

-CORONEL KNOWS A GOOD STORY WHEN HE HEARS IT -

- -

-I quote (with slight alterations) from an epic by Charlotte Patacake, -a contemporary poet of the country: -

- -

- King Merriwig the First rode back from war,
- As many other Kings had done before;
- Five hundred men behind him were in sight
- (Left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right).
-

- -

-So far as is known, this was her only work, but she built up some -reputation on it, and Belvane, who was a good judge, had a high -opinion of her genius. -

- -

-To be exact, there were only four hundred and ninety-nine men. Henry -Smallnose, a bowman of considerable promise, had been left behind in -the enemy's country, the one casualty of war. While spying out the -land in the early days of the invasion, he had been discovered by the -Chief Armourer of Barodia at full length on the wet grass searching -for tracks. The Chief Armourer, a kindly man, had invited him to his -cottage, dried him and given him a warming drink, and had told him -that, if ever his spying took him that way again, he was not to stand -on ceremony, but come in and pay him a visit. Henry, having caught a -glimpse of the Chief Armourer's daughter, had accepted without any -false pride, and had frequently dropped in to supper thereafter. Now -that the war was over, he found that he could not tear himself away. -With King Merriwig's permission he was settling in Barodia, and with -the Chief Armourer's permission he was starting on his new life as a -married man. -

- -

-As the towers of the castle came in sight, Merriwig drew a deep breath -of happiness. Home again! The hardships of the war were over; the -spoils of victory (wrapped up in tissue paper) were in his pocket; -days of honoured leisure were waiting for him. He gazed at each -remembered landmark of his own beloved country, his heart overflowing -with thankfulness. Never again would he leave Euralia! -

- -

-How good to see Hyacinth again! Poor little Hyacinth left all alone; -but there! she had had the Countess Belvane, a woman of great -experience, to help her. Belvane! Should he risk it? How much had -she thought of him while he was away? Hyacinth would be growing up -and getting married soon. Life would be lonely in Euralia then, -unless—— Should he risk it? -

- -

-What would Hyacinth say? -

- -

-She was waiting for him at the gates of the castle. She had wanted -Coronel to wait with her, but he had refused. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"We must offer the good news to him gradually," he said. "When a man -has just come back from a successful campaign, he doesn't want to find -a surprise like this waiting for him. Just think—we don't even know -why the war is over—he must be longing to tell you that. Oh, he'll -have a hundred things to tell you first; but then, when he says 'And -what's been happening here while I've been away? Nothing much, I -suppose?' then you can say——" -

- -

-"Then I shall say, 'Nothing much; only Coronel.' And such a clever!" -

- -

-"Oh, I have my ideas," said Coronel. "Well, I'll be out of the way -somewhere. I think I'll go for a walk in the forest. Or shall I stay -here, in the Countess's garden, and amuse myself with Udo? Anyhow, -I'll give you an hour alone together first." -

- -

-The cavalcade drew up in front of the castle. Handkerchiefs fluttered -to them from the walls; trumpets were blown; hounds bayed. Down the -steps came Hyacinth, all blue and gold, and flung herself into her -father's arms. -

- -

-"My dear child," said Merriwig as he patted her soothingly. "There, -there! It's your old father come back again. H'r'm. There, there!" -He patted her again, as though it were she and not himself who was in -danger of breaking down. "My little Hyacinth! My own little girl!" -

- -

-"Oh, Father, I am glad to have you back." -

- -

-"There, there, my child. Now I must just say a few words to my men, -and then we can tell each other all that has been happening." -

- -

-He took a step forward and addressed his troops. -

- -

-"Men of Euralia (cheers). We have returned from a long and arduous -conflict (cheers) to the embraces (loud cheers) of our mothers and -wives and daughters (prolonged cheering)—as the case may be (hear, -hear). In honour of our great victory I decree that, from now -onwards, to-morrow shall be observed as a holiday throughout Euralia -(terrific cheering). I bid you all now return to your homes, and I -hope that you will find as warm a welcome there as I have found in -mine." Here he turned and embraced his daughter again; and if his eye -travelled over her shoulder in the direction of Belvane's garden, it -is a small matter, and one for which the architect of the castle, no -doubt, was principally to blame. -

- -

-There was another storm of cheers, the battle-cry of Euralia, "Ho, -ho, Merriwig!" was shouted from five hundred throats, and the men -dispersed happily to their homes. Hyacinth and Merriwig went into the -Palace. -

- -

-"Now, Father," said Hyacinth later on, when Merriwig had changed his -clothes and refreshed himself, "you've got to tell me all about it. I -can hardly believe it's really over." -

- -

-"Yes, yes. It's all over," said Merriwig heartily. "We shan't have -any trouble in that direction again, I fancy." -

- -

-"Do tell me, did the King of Barodia apologise?" -

- -

-"He did better than that, he abdicated." -

- -

-"Why?" -

- -

-"Well," said Merriwig, remembering just in time, "I—er—killed him." -

- -

-"Oh, Father, how rough of you." -

- -

-"I don't think it hurt him very much, my dear. It was more a shock to -his feelings than anything else. See, I have brought these home for -you." -

- -

-He produced from his pocket a small packet in tissue paper. -

- -

-"Oh, how exciting! Whatever can it be?" -

- -

-Merriwig unwrapped the paper, and disclosed a couple of ginger -whiskers, neatly tied up with blue ribbon. -

- -

-"Father!" -

- -

-He picked out the left one, fons et origo (if he had known any -Latin) of the war, and held it up for Hyacinth's inspection. -

- -

-"There, you can see the place where Henry Smallnose's arrow bent it. -By the way," he added, "Henry is marrying and settling down in -Barodia. It is curious," he went on, "how after a war one's thoughts -turn to matrimony." He glanced at his daughter to see how she would -take this, but she was still engrossed with the whiskers. -

- -

-"What am I going to do with them, Father? I can't plant them in the -garden." -

- -

-"I thought we might run them up the flagstaff, as we did in Barodia." -

- -

-"Isn't that a little unkind now that the poor man's dead?" -

- -

-Merriwig looked round him to see that there were no eavesdroppers. -

- -

-"Can you keep a secret?" he asked mysteriously. -

- -

-"Of course," said Hyacinth, deciding at once that it would not matter -if she only told Coronel. -

- -

-"Well, then, listen." -

- -

-He told her of his secret journey to the King of Barodia's tent; he -told her of the King of Barodia's letter; he told her more fully of -his early duel with the King; he told her everything that he had said -and done; and everything that everybody else had said and done to him; -and his boyish pleasure in it all was so evident and so innocent, that -even a stranger would have had nothing more reproachful for him than a -smile. To Hyacinth he seemed the dearest of fathers and the most -wonderful of kings. -

- -

-And by and by the moment came of which Coronel had spoken. -

- -

-"And now," said Merriwig, "tell me what you have all been doing with -yourselves here. Nothing much, I suppose?" -

- -

-He waited nervously, wondering if Hyacinth would realise that "all" -was meant to include more particularly Belvane. -

- -

-Hyacinth drew a stool up to her father's chair and sat down very close -to him. -

- -

-"Father," she said, stroking his hand where it rested on his knee, "I -have got some news for you." -

- -

-"Nothing about the Coun—nothing serious, I hope," said Merriwig, in -alarm. -

- -

-"It's rather serious, but it's rather nice. Father, dear, would you -mind very much if I got married soon?" -

- -

-"My dear, you shall get married as soon as you like. Let me see, -there were six or seven Princes who came about it only the other day. -I sent them off on adventures of some kind, but—dear me, yes, they -ought to have been back by now. I suppose you haven't heard anything -of them?" -

- -

-"No, Father," said Hyacinth, with a little smile. -

- -

-"Ah, well, no doubt they were unsuccessful. No matter, dear, we can -easily find you plenty more suitors. Indeed, the subject has been -very near my thoughts lately. We'll arrange a little competition, and -let them know in the neighbouring countries; there'll be no lack of -candidates. Let me see, there's that seven-headed bull; he's getting -a little old now, but he was good enough for the last one. We -might——" -

- -

-"I don't want a suitor," said Hyacinth softly. "I have one." -

- -

-Merriwig leant forward with eagerness. -

- -

-"My dear, this is indeed news. Tell me all about it. Upon what quest -did you send him?" -

- -

-Hyacinth had felt this coming. Had she lived in modern times she -would have expected the question, "What is his income?" A man must -prove his worth in some way. -

- -

-"I haven't sent him away at all yet," she said; "he's only just come. -He's been very kind to me, and I'm sure you'll love him." -

- -

-"Well, well, we'll arrange something for him. Perhaps that bull I was -speaking of—— By the way, who is he?" -

- -

-"He comes from Araby, and his name is——" -

- -

-"Udo, of course. Why didn't I think of him? An excellent -arrangement, my dear." -

- -

-"It isn't Udo, I'm afraid, Father. It's Coronel." -

- -

-"And who might Coronel be?" said the King, rather sternly. -

- -

-"He's—he's—well, he's—— Here he is, Father." She ran up to him -impulsively as he came in at the door. "Oh, Coronel, you're just in -time; do tell Father who you are." -

- -

-Coronel bowed profoundly to the King. -

- -

-"Before I explain myself, your Majesty," he said, "may I congratulate -your Majesty on your wonderful victory over the Barodians? From the -little I have gathered outside, it is the most remarkable victory that -has ever occurred. But of course I am longing to hear the full story -from your Majesty's own lips. Is it a fact that your Majesty made his -way at dead of night to the King of Barodia's own tent and challenged -him to mortal combat and slew him?" There was an eagerness, very -winning, in his eyes as he asked it; he seemed to be envying the King -such an adventure—an adventure after his own heart. -

- -

-Merriwig was in an awkward position. He wondered for a moment whether -to order his daughter out of the room. "Leave us, my child," he would -say. "These are matters for men to discuss." But Hyacinth would know -quite well why she had been sent out, and would certainly tell Coronel -the truth of the matter afterwards. -

- -

-It really looked as if Coronel would have to be let into the secret -too. He cleared his throat noisily by way of preparation. -

- -

-"There are certain state reasons," he said with dignity, "why that -story has been allowed to get about." -

- -

-"Pardon, your Majesty. I have no wish to——" -

- -

-"But as you know so much, you may as well know all. It happened like -this." Once more he told the story of his midnight visit, and of the -King's letter to him. -

- -

-"But, your Majesty," cried Coronel, "it is more wonderful than the -other. Never was such genius of invention, such brilliance and daring -of execution." -

- -

-"So you like it," said Merriwig, trying to look modest. -

- -

-"I love it." -

- -

-"I knew he'd love it," put in Hyacinth. "It's just the sort of story -that Coronel would love. Tell him about how you fought the King at -the beginning of the war, and how you pretended to be a swineherd, and -how—" -

- -

-Could any father have resisted? In a little while Hyacinth and -Coronel were seated eagerly at his feet, and he was telling once more -the great story of his adventures. -

- -

-"Well, well," said the King at the end of it, when he had received -their tribute of admiration. "Those are just a few of the little -adventures that happen in war time." He turned to Coronel. "And so -you, I understand, wish to marry my daughter?" -

- -

-"Does that surprise your Majesty?" -

- -

-"Well, no, it doesn't. And she, I understand, wishes to marry you." -

- -

-"Yes, please, Father." -

- -

-"That," said Coronel simply, "is much more surprising." -

- -

-Merriwig, however, was not so sure of that. He liked the look of -Coronel, he liked his manner, and he saw at once that he knew a good -story—when he heard one. -

- -

-"Of course," he said, "you'll have to win her." -

- -

-"Anything your Majesty sets me to do. It's as well," he added with a -disarming smile, "that you cannot ask for the whiskers of the King of -Barodia. There is only one man who could have got those." -

- -

-Truly an excellent young man. -

- -

-"Well, we'll arrange something," said Merriwig, looking pleased. -"Perhaps your Prince Udo would care to be a competitor too." -

- -

-Hyacinth and Coronel interchanged a smile. -

- -

-"Alas, Father," she said, "his Royal Highness is not attracted by my -poor charms." -

- -

-"Wait till he has seen them, my dear," said Merriwig with a chuckle. -

- -

-"He has seen them, Father." -

- -

-"What? You invited him here? Tell me about this, Hyacinth. He came -to stay with you and he never——" -

- -

-"His Royal Highness," put in Coronel, "has given his affections to -another." -

- -

-"Aha! So that's the secret. Now I wonder if I can guess who she is. -What do you say to the Princess Elvira of Tregong? I know his father -had hopes in that direction." -

- -

-Hyacinth looked round at Coronel as if appealing for his support. He -took a step towards her. -

- -

-"No, it's not the Princess Elvira," said Hyacinth, a little nervously. -

- -

-The King laughed good-humouredly. -

- -

-"Ah, well, you must tell me," he said. -

- -

-Hyacinth put out her hand, and Coronel pressed it encouragingly. -

- -

-"His Royal Highness Prince Udo," she said, "is marrying the Countess -Belvane." -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: A man surrounded by clouds of smoke] -

- -

-CHAPTER XXI -

- -

-A SERPENT COMING AFTER UDO -

- -

-Belvane had now had twenty-four hours in which to think it over. -

- -

-Whatever her faults, she had a sense of humour. She could not help -smiling to herself as she thought of that scene in the garden. -However much she regretted her too hasty engagement, she was sure Udo -regretted it still more. If she gave him the least opportunity he -would draw back from it. -

- -

-Then why not give him the opportunity? "My dear Prince Udo, I'm -afraid I mistook the nature of my feelings"—said, of course, with -downcast head and a maidenly blush. Exit Udo with haste, enter King -Merriwig. It would be so easy. -

- -

-Ah, but then Hyacinth would have won. Hyacinth had forced the -engagement upon her; even if it only lasted for twenty-four hours, so -long as it was a forced engagement, Hyacinth would have had the better -of her for that time. But if she welcomed the engagement, if she -managed in some way to turn it to account, to make it appear as if she -had wanted it all the time, then Hyacinth's victory would be no -victory at all, but a defeat. -

- -

-Marry Udo, then, as if willingly? Yes, but that was too high a price -to pay. She was by this time thoroughly weary of him and besides, she -had every intention of marrying the King of Euralia. To pretend to -marry him until she brought the King in open conflict with him, and -then having led the King to her feet to dismiss the rival who had -served her turn—that was her only wise course. -

- -

-She did not come to this conclusion without much thought. She composed -an Ode to Despair, an Elegy to an Unhappy Woman, and a Triolet to -Interfering Dukes, before her mind was made up. She also considered -very seriously what she would look like in a little cottage in the -middle of the forest, dressed in a melancholy grey and holding -communion only with the birds and trees; a life of retirement away -from the vain world; a life into which no man came. It had its -attractions, but she decided that grey did not suit her. -

- -

-She went down to her garden and sent for Prince Udo. At about the -moment when the King was having the terrible news broken to him, Udo -was protesting over the sundial that he loved Belvane and Belvane -only, and that he was looking forward eagerly to the day when she -would make him the happiest of men. So afraid was he of what might -happen to him on the way back to Araby. -

- -

-"The Countess Belvane!" cried Merriwig. "Prince Udo marry the -Countess Belvane! I never heard such a thing in my life." He glared -at them one after the other as if it were their fault—as indeed it -was. "Why didn't you tell me this before, Hyacinth?" -

- -

-"It was only just announced, Father." -

- -

-"Who announced it?" -

- -

-"Well—er—Udo did," said Coronel. -

- -

-"I never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life! I won't have -it!" -

- -

-"But, Father, don't you think she'd make a very good Queen?" -

- -

-"She'd make a wonderful—that has nothing to do with it. What I feel -so strongly about is this. For month after month I am fighting in a -strange country. After extraordinary scenes of violence and—peril—I -come back to my own home to enjoy the—er—fruits of victory. No -sooner do I get inside my door than I have all this thrust upon me." -

- -

-"All what, Father?" said Hyacinth innocently. -

- -

-"All this," said the King, with a circular movement of his hand. -"It's too bad; upon my word it is. I won't have it. Now mind, -Hyacinth, I won't have it. -

- -

-"But, Father, how can I help it?" -

- -

-Merriwig paid no attention to her. -

- -

-"I come home," he went on indignantly, "fresh from the—er—spoils of -victory to what I thought was my own peaceful—er—home. And what do -I find? Somebody here wants to marry somebody there, and somebody -else over there wants to marry somebody else over here; it's -impossible to mention any person's name, in even the most casual way, -without being told they are going to get married, or some nonsense of -that sort. I'm very much upset about it." -

- -

-"Oh, Father!" said Hyacinth penitently. "Won't you see the Countess -yourself and talk to her?" -

- -

-"To think that for weeks I have been looking forward to my return home -and that now I should be met with this! It has quite spoilt my day." -

- -

-"Father!" cried Hyacinth, coming towards him with outstretched hands. -

- -

-"Let me send for her ladyship," began Coronel; "perhaps she——" -

- -

-"No, no," said Merriwig, waving them away. "I am very much displeased -with you both. What I have to do, I can do quite well by myself." -

- -

-He strode out and slammed the door behind him. -

- -

-Hyacinth and Coronel looked at each other blankly. -

- -

-"My dear," said Coronel, "you never told me he was as fond of her as -that." -

- -

-"But I had no idea! Coronel, what can we do now about it? Oh, I want -him to marry her now. He's quite right—she'll make a wonderful -Queen. Oh, my dear, I feel I want everybody to be as happy as we're -going to be." -

- -

-"They can't be that, but we'll do our best for them. I can manage Udo -all right. I only have to say 'rabbits' to him, and he'll do anything -for me. Hyacinth, I don't believe I've ever kissed you in this room -yet, have I? Let's begin now." -

- -

-Merriwig came upon the other pair of lovers in Belvane's garden. They -were sharing a seat there, and Udo was assuring the Countess that he -was her own little Udo-Wudo, and that they must never be away from -each other again. The King put his hand in front of his eyes for a -moment as if he could hardly bear it. -

- -

-"Why, it's his Majesty," said Belvane, jumping up. She gave him a -deep curtsey and threw in a bewitching smile on the top of it; -formality or friendliness, he could take his choice. "Prince Udo of -Araby, your Majesty." She looked shyly at him and added, "Perhaps you -have heard." -

- -

-"I have," said the King gloomingly. "How do you do," he added in a -melancholy voice. -

- -

-Udo declared that he was in excellent health at present, and would -have gone into particulars about it had not the King interrupted. -

- -

-"Well, Countess," he said, "this is strange news to come back to. -Shall I disturb you if I sit down with you for little?" -

- -

-"Oh, your Majesty, you would honour us. Udo, dear, have you seen the -heronry lately?" -

- -

-"Yes," said Udo. -

- -

-"It looks so sweet just about this time of the afternoon." -

- -

-"It does," said Udo. -

- -

-Belvane gave a little shrug and turned to the King. -

- -

-"I'm so longing to hear all your adventures," she murmured -confidingly. "I got all your messages; it was so good of you to -remember me." -

- -

-"Ah," said Merriwig reproachfully, "and what do I find when I come -back? I find——" He broke off, and indicated in pantomime with his -eyebrows that he could explain better what he had found if Udo were -absent. -

- -

-"Udo, dear," said Belvane, turning to him, "have you seen the kennels -lately?" -

- -

-"Yes," said Udo. -

- -

-"They look rather sweet just about this time," said Merriwig. -

- -

-"Don't they?" said Udo. -

- -

-"But I am so longing to hear," said Belvane, "how your Majesty -defeated the King of Barodia. Was it your Majesty's wonderful spell -which overcame the enemy?" -

- -

-"You remember that?" -

- -

-"Remember it? Oh, your Majesty! 'Bo boll——' Udo, dear, wouldn't -you like to see the armoury?" -

- -

-"No," said Udo. -

- -

-"There are a lot of new things in it that I brought back from -Barodia," said Merriwig hopefully. -

- -

-"A lot of new things," explained Belvane. -

- -

-"I'll see them later on," said Udo. "I dare say they'd look better in -the evening." -

- -

-"Then you shall show me, your Majesty," said Belvane. "Udo, dear, -you can wait for me here." -

- -

-The two of them moved off down the path together (Udo taken by -surprise), and as soon as they were out of sight, tiptoed across the -lawn to another garden seat, Belvane leading the way with her finger -to her lips, and Merriwig following with an exaggerated caution which -even Henry Smallnose would have thought overdone. -

- -

-"He is a little slow, isn't he, that young man?" said the King, as -they sat down together. "I mean he didn't seem to understand—" -

- -

-"He's such a devoted lover, your Majesty. He can't bear to be out of -my sight for a moment." -

- -

-"Oh, Belvane, this is a sad homecoming. For month after month I have -been fighting and toiling, and planning and plotting and then—— Oh, -Belvane, we were all so happy together before the war." -

- -

-Belvane remembered that once she and the Princess and Wiggs had been -so happy together, and that Udo's arrival had threatened to upset it -all. One way and another, Udo had been a disturbing element in -Euralia. But it would not do to let him go just yet. -

- -

-"Aren't we still happy together?" she asked innocently. "There's her -Royal Highness with her young Duke, and I have my dear Udo, and your -Majesty has the—the Lord Chancellor—and all your Majesty's faithful -subjects." -

- -

-His Majesty gave a deep sigh. -

- -

- -[Illustration: Belvane leading the way with her finger to her lips] - -[Illustration: Merriwig following with an exaggerated caution] -

- -

-"I am a very lonely man, Belvane. When Hyacinth leaves me I shall -have nobody left." -

- -

-Belvane decided to risk it. -

- -

-"Your Majesty should marry again," she said gently. -

- -

-He looked unutterable things at her. He opened his mouth with the -intention of doing his best to utter some of them, when—— -

- -

-"Not before Udo," said Belvane softly. -

- -

-Merriwig got up indignantly and scowled at the Prince as the latter -hurried over the lawn towards them. -

- -

-"Well, really," said Merriwig, "I never knew such a place. One simply -can't—— Ah, your Royal Highness, have you seen our armoury? I -should say," he corrected himself as he caught Belvane's reproachful -look, "have we seen our armoury? We have. Her ladyship was much -interested." -

- -

-"I have no doubt, your Majesty." He turned to Belvane. "You will be -interested in our armoury at home, dear." -

- -

-She gave a quick glance at the King to see that he was looking, and -then patted Udo's hand tenderly. -

- -

-"Home," she said lovingly, "how sweet it sounds!" -

- -

-The King shivered as if in pain, and strode quickly from them. -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-"Your Majesty sent for me," said Coronel. -

- -

-The King stopped his pacings and looked round as Coronel came into the -library. -

- -

-"Ah, yes, yes," he said quickly. "Now sit down there and make -yourself comfortable. I want to talk to you about this marriage." -

- -

-"Which one, your Majesty?" -

- -

-"Which one? Why, of course, yours—that is to say, -Belvane's—or—rather——" He came to a stop in front of Coronel and -looked at him earnestly. "Well, in a way, both." -

- -

-Coronel nodded. -

- -

-"You want to marry my daughter," Merriwig went on. "Now it is -customary, as you know, that to the person to whom I give my daughter, -I give also half my kingdom. Naturally before I make this sacrifice I -wish to be sure that the man to whom—well, of course, you -understand." -

- -

-"That he is worthy of the Princess Hyacinth," said Coronel. "Of -course he couldn't be," he added with a smile. -

- -

-"And worthy of half the kingdom," amended Merriwig. "That he should -prove himself this is also, I think, customary." -

- -

-"Anything that your Majesty suggests——" -

- -

-"I am sure of it." -

- -

-He drew up a chair next to Coronel's, and sitting down in it, placed -his hand upon his knees and explained the nature of the trial which -was awaiting the successful suitor. -

- -

-"In the ordinary way," he began, "I should arrange something for you -with a dragon or what-not in it. The knowledge that some such ordeal -lies before him often enables a suitor to discover, before it is too -late, that what he thought was true love is not really the genuine -emotion. In your case I feel that an ordeal of this sort is not -necessary." -

- -

-Coronel inclined his head gracefully. -

- -

-"I do not doubt your valour, and from you therefore I ask a proof of -your cunning. In these days cunning is perhaps the quality of all -others demanded of a ruler. We had an excellent example of that," he -went on carelessly, "in the war with Barodia that is just over, where -the whole conflict was settled by a little idea which——" -

- -

-"A very wonderful idea, your Majesty." -

- -

-"Well, well," said Merriwig, looking very pleased. "It just happened -to come off, that's all. But that is what I mean when I say that -cunning may be of even more importance than valour. In order to win -the hand of my daughter and half my kingdom, it will be necessary for -you to show a cunning almost more than human." -

- -

-He paused, and Coronel did his best in the interval to summon up a -look of superhuman guile into his very frank and pleasant countenance. -

- -

-"You will prove yourself worthy of what you ask me for," said Merriwig -solemnly, "by persuading Prince Udo to return to Araby—alone." -

- -

-Coronel gasped. The thing was so easy that it seemed almost a shame -to accept it as the condition of his marriage. To persuade Udo to do -what he was only longing to do, did not call for any superhuman -qualities of any kind. For a moment he had an impulse to tell the -King so, but he suppressed it. "After all," he thought, "if the King -wants cunning, and if I make a great business of doing something -absurdly easy, then he is getting it." -

- -

-Merriwig, simple man, mistook his emotions. -

- -

-"I see," he said, "that you are appalled by the difficulty of the -ordeal in front of you. You may well be so. You have known his Royal -Highness longer than I have, but even in our short acquaintance I have -discovered that he takes a hint with extraordinary slowness. To bring -it home to him with the right mixture of tact and insistence that -Araby needs his immediate presence—alone—may well tax the most -serpentine of minds." -

- -

-"I can but try it," said the serpentine one simply. -

- -

-The King jumped up and shook him warmly by the hand. -

- -

-"You think you can do it?" he said excitedly. -

- -

-"If Prince Udo does not start back to Araby to-morrow——" -

- -

-"Alone," said Merriwig. -

- -

-"Alone—then I shall have failed in my task." -

- -

-      * * * * *
-

- -

-"My dear," said the King to his daughter as she kissed him good-night -that evening, "I believe you are going to marry a very wise young -man." -

- -

-"Of course I am, Father." -

- -

-"I only hope you'll be as happy with him as I shall be with—as I was -with your mother. Though how he's going to bring it off," he added to -himself, "is more than I can think." -

- -


- -

- -[Illustration: Same image as for chapter 20] -

- -

-CHAPTER XXII -

- -

-THE SEVENTEEN VOLUMES GO BACK AGAIN -

- -

-King Merriwig of Eastern Euralia sat at breakfast on his castle walls. -He lifted the gold cover from the gold dish in front of him, selected -a trout, and conveyed it carefully to his gold plate. When you have -an aunt—— But I need not say that again. -

- -

-King Coronel of Western Euralia sat at breakfast on his castle -walls. He lifted the gold cover from the gold dish in front of him, -selected a trout, and conveyed it carefully to his gold plate. When -your wife's father has an aunt—— -

- -

-Prince Udo of Araby sat at breakfast—— But one must draw the line -somewhere. I refuse to follow Udo through any more meals. Indeed, I -think there has been quite enough eating and drinking in this book -already. Quite enough of everything in fact; but the time has nearly -come to say good-bye. -

- -

-Let us speed the Prince of Araby first. His departure from Euralia -was sudden; five minutes' conversation with Coronel convinced him that -there had been a mistake about Belvane's feelings for him, and that he -could leave for Araby in perfect safety. -

- -

-"You must come and see us again," said Merriwig heartily, as he shook -him by the hand. -

- -

-"Yes, do," said Hyacinth. -

- -

-There are two ways of saying this sort of thing, and theirs was the -second way. So was Udo's, when he answered that he would be -delighted. -

- -

-It was just a week later that the famous double wedding was celebrated -in Euralia. As an occasion for speech-making by King Merriwig and -largesse-throwing by Queen Belvane it demanded and (got) a whole -chapter to itself in Roger's History. I have Roger on my side at -last. The virtues he denied to the Countess he cannot but allow to -the Queen. -

- -

-Nor could Hyacinth resist her any longer. Belvane upon her palfrey, -laughter in her eyes and roses in her cheeks, her lips slightly parted -with eagerness as she flings her silver to the crowd, adorably -conscious of her childishness and yet glorifying in it, could have no -enemies that day. -

- -

-"She is a dear," said Hyacinth to Coronel. "She will make a wonderful -Queen." -

- -

-"I know a Queen worth two of her," said Coronel. -

- -

-"But you do admire her, don't you?" -

- -

-"Not particularly." -

- -

-"Oh, Coronel, you must," said Hyacinth, but she felt very happy all -the same. -

- -

-They rode off the next day to their kingdom. The Chancellor had had -an exciting week; for seven successive evenings he had been extremely -mysterious and reserved to his wife, but now his business was finished -and King Merriwig reigned over Eastern Euralia and King Coronel over -the West. -

- -

-Let us just take a look at Belvane's diary before we move on to the -last scene. -

- -

-"Thursday, September 15th," it says. "Became good." -

- -

-Now for the last scene. -

- -

-King Merriwig sat in Belvane's garden. They had spent the morning -revising their joint book of poetry for publication. The first set of -verses was entirely Merriwig's own. It went like this: -

- -

- Bo, boll, bill, bole.
- Wo, woll, will, wole.
-

- -

-A note by the authors called attention to the fact that it could be -begun from either end. The rest of the poems were mainly by Belvane, -Merriwig's share in them consisting of a "Capital," or an "I like -that," when they were read out to him; but an epic commonly attributed -to Charlotte Patacake had crept in somehow. -

- -

-"A person to see your Majesty," said a flunkey, appearing suddenly. -

- -

-"What sort of person?" asked Merriwig. -

- -

-"A sort of person, your Majesty." -

- -

-"See him here, dear," said Belvane, as she got up. "I have things to -do in the Palace." -

- -

-She left him; and by and by the flunkey returned with the stranger. -He was a pleasant-looking person with a round clean-shaven face; -something in the agricultural way, to judge from his clothes. -

- -

-"Well?" said Merriwig. -

- -

-"I desire to be your Majesty's swineherd," said the other. -

- -

-"What do you know of swineherding?" -

- -

-"I have a sort of natural aptitude for it, your Majesty, although I -have never actually been one." -

- -

-"My own case exactly. Now then, let me see—how would you——" -

- -

-The stranger took out a large red handkerchief and wiped his forehead. -

- -

-"You propose to ask me a few questions, your Majesty?" -

- -

-"Well, naturally, I——" -

- -

-"Let me beg of you not to. By all you hold sacred let me implore you -not to confuse me with questions." He drew himself up and thumped his -chest with his fist. "I have a feeling for swineherding; it is -enough." -

- -

-Merriwig began to like the man; it was just how he felt about the -thing himself. -

- -

-"I once carried on a long technical conversation with a swineherd," he -said reminiscently, "and we found we had much in common. It is an -inspiring life." -

- -

-"It was in just that way," said the stranger, "that I discovered my -own natural bent towards it." -

- -

-"How very odd! Do you know, there's something about your face that I -seem to recognise?" -

- -

-The stranger decided to be frank. -

- -

-"I owe this face to you," he said simply. -

- -

-Merriwig looked startled. -

- -

-"In short," said the other, "I am the late King of Barodia." -

- -

-Merriwig gripped his hand. -

- -

- - - -

- -

-"My dear fellow," he said. "My very dear fellow, of course you are. -Dear me, how it brings it all back. And—may I say—what an -improvement. Really, I'm delighted to see you. You must tell me all -about it. But first some refreshment." -

- -

-At the word "refreshment" the late King of Barodia broke down -altogether, and it was only Merriwig's hummings and hawings and -thumpings on the back and (later on) the refreshment itself which kept -him from bursting into tears. -

- -

-"My dear friend," he said, as he wiped his mouth for the last time, -"you have saved me." -

- -

-"But what does it all mean?" asked Merriwig in bewilderment. -

- -

-"Listen and I will tell you," -

- -

-He told himself of the great resolution to which he had come on that -famous morning when he awoke to find himself whiskerless. Barodia had -no more use for him now as a King, and he on his side was eager to -carve out for himself a new life as a swineherd. -

- -

-"I had a natural gift," he said plaintively, "an instinctive feeling -for it. I know I had. Whatever they said about it afterwards—and -they said many hard things—I was certain that I had that feeling. I -had proved it, you know; there couldn't be any mistake." -

- -

-"Well?" -

- -

-"Ah, but they laughed at me. They asked me confusing questions; -niggling little questions about the things swine ate and—and things -like that. The great principles of swineherding, the—what I may call -the art of herding swine, the whole theory of shepherding pigs in a -broad-minded way, all this they ignored. They laughed at me and -turned me out with jeers and blows—to starve." -

- -

-Merriwig patted him sympathetically, and pressed some more food on -him. -

- -

-"I ranged over the whole of Barodia. Nobody would take me in. It is -a terrible thing, my dear Merriwig, to begin to lose faith in -yourself. I had to tell myself at last that perhaps there was -something about Barodian swine which made them different from those of -any other country. As a last hope I came to Euralia; if here too I -was spurned, then I should know that——" -

- -

-"Just a moment," said Merriwig, breaking in eagerly. "Who was this -swineherd that you talked to——" -

- -

-"I talked to so many," said the other sadly. "They all scoffed at -me." -

- -

-"No, but the first one; the one that showed you that you had a bent -towards it. Didn't you say that——" -

- -

-"Oh, that one. That was at the beginning of our war. Do you remember -telling me that your swineherd had an invisible cloak? It was he -that——" -

- -

-Merriwig looked at him sadly and shook his head. -

- -

-"My poor friend," he said, "it was me." -

- -

-They gazed at each other earnestly. Each of them was going over in -his mind the exact details of that famous meeting. -

- -

-"Yes," they murmured together, "it was us." -

- -

-The King of Barodia's mind raced on through all the bitter months that -had followed; he shivered as he thought of the things he had said; the -things that had been said to him seemed of small account now. -

- -

-"Not even a swineherd!" he remarked. -

- -

-"Come, come," said Merriwig, "look on the bright side; you can always -be a King again." -

- -

-The late King of Barodia shook his head. -

- -

-"It's a come down to a man with any pride," he said. "No, I'll stick -to my own job. After all, I've been learning these last weeks; at any -rate I know that what I do know isn't worth knowing, and that's -something." -

- -

-"Then stay with me," said Merriwig heartily. "My swineherd will teach -you your work, and when he retires you can take it on." -

- -

-"Do you mean it?" -

- -

-"Of course I do. I shall be glad to have you about the place. In the -evening, when the pigs are asleep, you can come in and have a chat -with us." -

- -

-"Bless you," said the new apprentice; "bless you, your Majesty." -

- -

-They shook hands on it. -

- -

-"My dear," said Merriwig to Belvane that evening, "you haven't married -a very clever fellow. I discovered this afternoon that I'm not even -as clever as I thought I was." -

- -

-"You don't want cleverness in a King," said Belvane, smiling lovingly -at him, "or in a husband." -

- -

-"What do you want then?" -

- -

-"Just dearness," said Belvane. -

- -

-

- -

-

- -

-And now my story is done. With a sigh I unload the seventeen volumes -of Euralian History from my desk, carrying them one by one across the -library and placing them carefully in the shelf which has been built -for them. For some months they have stood a rampart between me and -the world, behind which I have lived in far-off days with Merriwig and -Hyacinth and my Lady Belvane. The rampart is gone, and in the bright -light of to-day which streams on to my desk the vision slowly fades. -Once on a time . . -

- -

-Yet I see one figure clearly still. He is tall and thin, with a white -peaked face of which the long inquisitive nose is the outstanding -feature. His hair is lank and uncared for; his russet smock, tied in -at the waist, wants brushing; his untidy cross-gartered hose shows up -the meagerness of his legs. No knightly figure this, yet I look upon -him very tenderly. For it is Roger Scurvilegs on his way to the -Palace for news. -

- -

-To Roger too I must say good-bye. I say it not without remorse, for I -feel that I have been hard upon the man to whom I owe so much. -Perhaps it will not be altogether good-bye; in his seventeen volumes -there are many other tales to be found. Next time (if there be a next -time) I owe it to Roger to stand aside and let him tell the story more -in his own way. I think he would like that. -

- -

-But it shall not be a story about Belvane. I saw Belvane (or some one -like her) at a country house in Shropshire last summer, and I know -that Roger can never do her justice. -

- -

- -[Illustration: Roger Scurvilegs] -

- -



- -

-[Illustration: Back endpaper, verso] -[Illustration: Back endpaper, recto] -

- -


- -

-[Illustration: Back cover] -

- -



+

+ +In the sea of pleasure's
+ +Billowing roll,
+ +In the ether-waves
+ +Knelling and toll,
+ +In the world-breath's
+ +Wavering whole—
+ +To drown in, go down in—
+ +Lost in swoon—greatest boon!
+ +

+ + + + + + + +

23.

+ + + + + +

He who wishes to test himself rigorously as to how he is related to the + +true æsthetic hearer, or whether he belongs rather to the community + +of the Socrato-critical man, has only to enquire sincerely concerning + +the sentiment with which he accepts the wonder represented on the + +stage: whether he feels his historical sense, which insists on strict + +psychological causality, insulted by it,[Pg 174] whether with benevolent + +concession he as it were admits the wonder as a phenomenon intelligible + +to childhood, but relinquished by him, or whether he experiences + +anything else thereby. For he will thus be enabled to determine how + +far he is on the whole capable of understanding myth, that is to + +say, the concentrated picture of the world, which, as abbreviature of + +phenomena, cannot dispense with wonder. It is probable, however, that + +nearly every one, upon close examination, feels so disintegrated by + +the critico-historical spirit of our culture, that he can only perhaps + +make the former existence of myth credible to himself by learned + +means through intermediary abstractions. Without myth, however, every + +culture loses its healthy, creative natural power: it is only a horizon + +encompassed with myths which rounds off to unity a social movement. + +It is only by myth that all the powers of the imagination and of the + +Apollonian dream are freed from their random rovings. The mythical + +figures have to be the invisibly omnipresent genii, under the care of + +which the young soul grows to maturity, by the signs of which the man + +gives a meaning to his life and struggles: and the state itself knows + +no more powerful unwritten law than the mythical foundation which + +vouches for its connection with religion and its growth from mythical + +ideas.

+ + + +

Let us now place alongside thereof the abstract man proceeding + +independently of myth, the abstract education, the abstract usage, + +the abstract right, the abstract state: let us picture to ourselves + +the lawless roving of the artistic imagination,[Pg 175] not bridled by any + +native myth: let us imagine a culture which has no fixed and sacred + +primitive seat, but is doomed to exhaust all its possibilities, and + +has to nourish itself wretchedly from the other cultures—such is the + +Present, as the result of Socratism, which is bent on the destruction + +of myth. And now the myth-less man remains eternally hungering among + +all the bygones, and digs and grubs for roots, though he have to dig + +for them even among the remotest antiquities. The stupendous historical + +exigency of the unsatisfied modern culture, the gathering around one of + +countless other cultures, the consuming desire for knowledge—what does + +all this point to, if not to the loss of myth, the loss of the mythical + +home, the mythical source? Let us ask ourselves whether the feverish + +and so uncanny stirring of this culture is aught but the eager seizing + +and snatching at food of the hungerer—and who would care to contribute + +anything more to a culture which cannot be appeased by all it devours, + +and in contact with which the most vigorous and wholesome nourishment + +is wont to change into "history and criticism"?

+ + + +

We should also have to regard our German character with despair and + +sorrow, if it had already become inextricably entangled in, or even + +identical with this culture, in a similar manner as we can observe it + +to our horror to be the case in civilised France; and that which for + +a long time was the great advantage of France and the cause of her + +vast preponderance, to wit, this very identity of people and culture, + +might compel us at the sight thereof[Pg 176] to congratulate ourselves that + +this culture of ours, which is so questionable, has hitherto had + +nothing in common with the noble kernel of the character of our people. + +All our hopes, on the contrary, stretch out longingly towards the + +perception that beneath this restlessly palpitating civilised life and + +educational convulsion there is concealed a glorious, intrinsically + +healthy, primeval power, which, to be sure, stirs vigorously only at + +intervals in stupendous moments, and then dreams on again in view of + +a future awakening. It is from this abyss that the German Reformation + +came forth: in the choral-hymn of which the future melody of German + +music first resounded. So deep, courageous, and soul-breathing, so + +exuberantly good and tender did this chorale of Luther sound,—as the + +first Dionysian-luring call which breaks forth from dense thickets + +at the approach of spring. To it responded with emulative echo the + +solemnly wanton procession of Dionysian revellers, to whom we are + +indebted for German music—and to whom we shall be indebted for the + +re-birth of German myth.

+ + + +

I know that I must now lead the sympathising and attentive friend to + +an elevated position of lonesome contemplation, where he will have + +but few companions, and I call out encouragingly to him that we must + +hold fast to our shining guides, the Greeks. For the rectification + +of our æsthetic knowledge we previously borrowed from them the two + +divine figures, each of which sways a separate realm of art, and + +concerning whose mutual contact and exaltation we have acquired[Pg 177] a + +notion through Greek tragedy. Through a remarkable disruption of both + +these primitive artistic impulses, the ruin of Greek tragedy seemed + +to be necessarily brought about: with which process a degeneration + +and a transmutation of the Greek national character was strictly in + +keeping, summoning us to earnest reflection as to how closely and + +necessarily art and the people, myth and custom, tragedy and the state, + +have coalesced in their bases. The ruin of tragedy was at the same + +time the ruin of myth. Until then the Greeks had been involuntarily + +compelled immediately to associate all experiences with their myths, + +indeed they had to comprehend them only through this association: + +whereby even the most immediate present necessarily appeared to them + +sub specie æterni and in a certain sense as timeless. Into this + +current of the timeless, however, the state as well as art plunged + +in order to find repose from the burden and eagerness of the moment. + +And a people—for the rest, also a man—is worth just as much only as + +its ability to impress on its experiences the seal of eternity: for + +it is thus, as it were, desecularised, and reveals its unconscious + +inner conviction of the relativity of time and of the true, that is, + +the metaphysical significance of life. The contrary happens when a + +people begins to comprehend itself historically and to demolish the + +mythical bulwarks around it: with which there is usually connected + +a marked secularisation, a breach with the unconscious metaphysics + +of its earlier existence, in all ethical consequences. Greek art and + +especially Greek tragedy delayed[Pg 178] above all the annihilation of myth: + +it was necessary to annihilate these also to be able to live detached + +from the native soil, unbridled in the wilderness of thought, custom, + +and action. Even in such circumstances this metaphysical impulse still + +endeavours to create for itself a form of apotheosis (weakened, no + +doubt) in the Socratism of science urging to life: but on its lower + +stage this same impulse led only to a feverish search, which gradually + +merged into a pandemonium of myths and superstitions accumulated from + +all quarters: in the midst of which, nevertheless, the Hellene sat with + +a yearning heart till he contrived, as Græculus, to mask his fever with + +Greek cheerfulness and Greek levity, or to narcotise himself completely + +with some gloomy Oriental superstition.

+ + + +

We have approached this condition in the most striking manner since the + +reawakening of the Alexandro—Roman antiquity in the fifteenth century, + +after a long, not easily describable, interlude. On the heights there + +is the same exuberant love of knowledge, the same insatiate happiness + +of the discoverer, the same stupendous secularisation, and, together + +with these, a homeless roving about, an eager intrusion at foreign + +tables, a frivolous deification of the present or a dull senseless + +estrangement, all sub speci sæculi, of the present time: which + +same symptoms lead one to infer the same defect at the heart of + +this culture, the annihilation of myth. It seems hardly possible to + +transplant a foreign myth with permanent success, without dreadfully + +injuring the tree through this transplantation: which is perhaps[Pg 179] + +occasionally strong enough and sound enough to eliminate the foreign + +element after a terrible struggle; but must ordinarily consume itself + +in a languishing and stunted condition or in sickly luxuriance. Our + +opinion of the pure and vigorous kernel of the German being is such + +that we venture to expect of it, and only of it, this elimination of + +forcibly ingrafted foreign elements, and we deem it possible that + +the German spirit will reflect anew on itself. Perhaps many a one + +will be of opinion that this spirit must begin its struggle with the + +elimination of the Romanic element: for which it might recognise an + +external preparation and encouragement in the victorious bravery and + +bloody glory of the late war, but must seek the inner constraint in the + +emulative zeal to be for ever worthy of the sublime protagonists on + +this path, of Luther as well as our great artists and poets. But let + +him never think he can fight such battles without his household gods, + +without his mythical home, without a "restoration" of all German things + +I And if the German should look timidly around for a guide to lead + +him back to his long-lost home, the ways and paths of which he knows + +no longer—let him but listen to the delightfully luring call of the + +Dionysian bird, which hovers above him, and would fain point out to him + +the way thither.

+ + + + + + + +

24.

+ + + + + +

Among the peculiar artistic effects of musical tragedy we had to + +emphasise an Apollonian illusion, through which we are to be saved + +from[Pg 180] immediate oneness with the Dionysian music, while our musical + +excitement is able to discharge itself on an Apollonian domain and + +in an interposed visible middle world. It thereby seemed to us that + +precisely through this discharge the middle world of theatrical + +procedure, the drama generally, became visible and intelligible from + +within in a degree unattainable in the other forms of Apollonian art: + +so that here, where this art was as it were winged and borne aloft by + +the spirit of music, we had to recognise the highest exaltation of its + +powers, and consequently in the fraternal union of Apollo and Dionysus + +the climax of the Apollonian as well as of the Dionysian artistic aims.

+ + + +

Of course, the Apollonian light-picture did not, precisely with this + +inner illumination through music, attain the peculiar effect of the + +weaker grades of Apollonian art. What the epos and the animated stone + +can do—constrain the contemplating eye to calm delight in the world + +of the individuatio—could not be realised here, notwithstanding + +the greater animation and distinctness. We contemplated the drama + +and penetrated with piercing glance into its inner agitated world of + +motives—and yet it seemed as if only a symbolic picture passed before + +us, the profoundest significance of which we almost believed we had + +divined, and which we desired to put aside like a curtain in order to + +behold the original behind it. The greatest distinctness of the picture + +did not suffice us: for it seemed to reveal as well as veil something; + +and while it seemed, with its symbolic[Pg 181] revelation, to invite the + +rending of the veil for the disclosure of the mysterious background, + +this illumined all-conspicuousness itself enthralled the eye and + +prevented it from penetrating more deeply He who has not experienced + +this,—to have to view, and at the same time to have a longing + +beyond the viewing,—will hardly be able to conceive how clearly and + +definitely these two processes coexist in the contemplation of tragic + +myth and are felt to be conjoined; while the truly æsthetic spectators + +will confirm my assertion that among the peculiar effects of tragedy + +this conjunction is the most noteworthy. Now let this phenomenon of the + +æsthetic spectator be transferred to an analogous process in the tragic + +artist, and the genesis of tragic myth will have been understood. It + +shares with the Apollonian sphere of art the full delight in appearance + +and contemplation, and at the same time it denies this delight and + +finds a still higher satisfaction in the annihilation of the visible + +world of appearance. The substance of tragic myth is first of all an + +epic event involving the glorification of the fighting hero: but whence + +originates the essentially enigmatical trait, that the suffering in + +the fate of the hero, the most painful victories, the most agonising + +contrasts of motives, in short, the exemplification of the wisdom of + +Silenus, or, æsthetically expressed, the Ugly and Discordant, is always + +represented anew in such countless forms with such predilection, and + +precisely in the most youthful and exuberant age of a people, unless + +there is really a higher delight experienced in all this?

+ + + +

[Pg 182]

+ + + +

For the fact that things actually take such a tragic course would + +least of all explain the origin of a form of art; provided that art + +is not merely an imitation of the reality of nature, but in truth a + +metaphysical supplement to the reality of nature, placed alongside + +thereof for its conquest. Tragic myth, in so far as it really belongs + +to art, also fully participates in this transfiguring metaphysical + +purpose of art in general: What does it transfigure, however, when it + +presents the phenomenal world in the guise of the suffering hero? Least + +of all the "reality" of this phenomenal world, for it says to us: "Look + +at this! Look carefully! It is your life! It is the hour-hand of your + +clock of existence!"

+ + + +

And myth has displayed this life, in order thereby to transfigure it + +to us? If not, how shall we account for the æsthetic pleasure with + +which we make even these representations pass before us? I am inquiring + +concerning the æsthetic pleasure, and am well aware that many of + +these representations may moreover occasionally create even a moral + +delectation, say under the form of pity or of a moral triumph. But he + +who would derive the effect of the tragic exclusively from these moral + +sources, as was usually the case far too long in æsthetics, let him not + +think that he has done anything for Art thereby; for Art must above all + +insist on purity in her domain. For the explanation of tragic myth the + +very first requirement is that the pleasure which characterises it must + +be sought in the purely æsthetic sphere, without encroaching on the + +domain of pity, fear, or the morally-sublime.[Pg 183] How can the ugly and the + +discordant, the substance of tragic myth, excite an æsthetic pleasure?

+ + + +

Here it is necessary to raise ourselves with a daring bound into a + +metaphysics of Art. I repeat, therefore, my former proposition, that + +it is only as an æsthetic phenomenon that existence and the world, + +appear justified: and in this sense it is precisely the function of + +tragic myth to convince us that even the Ugly and Discordant is an + +artistic game which the will, in the eternal fulness of its joy, plays + +with itself. But this not easily comprehensible proto-phenomenon of + +Dionysian Art becomes, in a direct way, singularly intelligible, and + +is immediately apprehended in the wonderful significance of musical + +dissonance: just as in general it is music alone, placed in contrast + +to the world, which can give us an idea as to what is meant by the + +justification of the world as an æsthetic phenomenon. The joy that the + +tragic myth excites has the same origin as the joyful sensation of + +dissonance in music. The Dionysian, with its primitive joy experienced + +in pain itself, is the common source of music and tragic myth.

+ + + +

Is it not possible that by calling to our aid the musical relation of + +dissonance, the difficult problem of tragic effect may have meanwhile + +been materially facilitated? For we now understand what it means to + +wish to view tragedy and at the same time to have a longing beyond the + +viewing: a frame of mind, which, as regards the artistically employed + +dissonance, we should simply have to characterise by saying that we + +desire to hear and at the same time have a longing beyond the hearing. + +That striving[Pg 184] for the infinite, the pinion-flapping of longing, + +accompanying the highest delight in the clearly-perceived reality, + +remind one that in both states we have to recognise a Dionysian + +phenomenon, which again and again reveals to us anew the playful + +up-building and demolishing of the world of individuals as the efflux + +of a primitive delight, in like manner as when Heraclitus the Obscure + +compares the world-building power to a playing child which places + +stones here and there and builds sandhills only to overthrow them again.

+ + + +

Hence, in order to form a true estimate of the Dionysian capacity of + +a people, it would seem that we must think not only of their music, + +but just as much of their tragic myth, the second witness of this + +capacity. Considering this most intimate relationship between music + +and myth, we may now in like manner suppose that a degeneration and + +depravation of the one involves a deterioration of the other: if it be + +true at all that the weakening of the myth is generally expressive of + +a debilitation of the Dionysian capacity. Concerning both, however, + +a glance at the development of the German genius should not leave + +us in any doubt; in the opera just as in the abstract character of + +our myth-less existence, in an art sunk to pastime just as in a life + +guided by concepts, the inartistic as well as life-consuming nature + +of Socratic optimism had revealed itself to us. Yet there have been + +indications to console us that nevertheless in some inaccessible abyss + +the German spirit still rests and dreams, undestroyed, in glorious + +health, profundity, and Dionysian strength, like a knight sunk in[Pg 185] + +slumber: from which abyss the Dionysian song rises to us to let us + +know that this German knight even still dreams his primitive Dionysian + +myth in blissfully earnest visions. Let no one believe that the German + +spirit has for ever lost its mythical home when it still understands so + +obviously the voices of the birds which tell of that home. Some day it + +will find itself awake in all the morning freshness of a deep sleep: + +then it will slay the dragons, destroy the malignant dwarfs, and waken + +Brünnhilde—and Wotan's spear itself will be unable to obstruct its + +course!

+ + + +

My friends, ye who believe in Dionysian music, ye know also what + +tragedy means to us. There we have tragic myth, born anew from + +music,—and in this latest birth ye can hope for everything and forget + +what is most afflicting. What is most afflicting to all of us, however, + +is—the prolonged degradation in which the German genius has lived + +estranged from house and home in the service of malignant dwarfs. Ye + +understand my allusion—as ye will also, in conclusion, understand my + +hopes.

+ + + + + + + +

25.

+ + + + + +

Music and tragic myth are equally the expression of the Dionysian + +capacity of a people, and are inseparable from each other. Both + +originate in an ultra Apollonian sphere of art; both transfigure a + +region in the delightful accords of which all dissonance, just like + +the terrible picture of the world, dies charmingly away; both play + +with the sting of displeasure, trusting to their most potent magic;[Pg 186] + +both justify thereby the existence even of the "worst world." Here + +the Dionysian, as compared with the Apollonian, exhibits itself as + +the eternal and original artistic force, which in general calls into + +existence the entire world of phenomena: in the midst of which a new + +transfiguring appearance becomes necessary, in order to keep alive the + +animated world of individuation. If we could conceive an incarnation + +of dissonance—and what is man but that?—then, to be able to live + +this dissonance would require a glorious illusion which would spread + +a veil of beauty over its peculiar nature. This is the true function + +of Apollo as deity of art: in whose name we comprise all the countless + +manifestations of the fair realm of illusion, which each moment render + +life in general worth living and make one impatient for the experience + +of the next moment.

+ + + +

At the same time, just as much of this basis of all existence—the + +Dionysian substratum of the world—is allowed to enter into the + +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[Pg 187] 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!"

+ + + +
+ + + +

[Pg 189]

+ + + + + + + + + +

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[Pg 190] + +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[Pg 191] 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[Pg 192] 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 [Pg 193] + +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[Pg 194] '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."

+ + + +
+ + + +

Facsimile of Nietzsches handwriting.

+ +
+ + + + + + + +

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.

+ + + +
+ + + +

[Pg 196]

+ + + + + + + + + +

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.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
+
+
+
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