The relation of the two constituent forces to each other, and the
yielding of the one to the other, was the great requisite by which
alone he could remain wholly and truly himself. At the same time, this
was the only thing he could not control, and over which he could only
keep a watch, while the temptations to infidelity and its threatening
dangers beset him more and more. The uncertainty derived therefrom is
an overflowing source of suffering for those in process of
development. Each of his instincts made constant efforts to attain to
unmeasured heights, and each of the capacities he possessed for
enjoying life seemed to long to tear itself away from its companions
in order to seek satisfaction alone; the greater their exuberance the
more terrific was the tumult, and the more bitter the competition
between them. In addition, accident and life fired the desire for
power and splendour in him; but he was more often tormented by the
cruel necessity of having to live at all, while all around him lay
obstacles and snares. How is it possible for any one to remain
faithful here, to be completely steadfast? This doubt often depressed
him, and he expresses it, as an artist expressed his doubt, in
artistic forms. Elizabeth, for instance, can only suffer, pray, and
die; she saves the fickle and intemperate man by her loyalty, though
not for this life. In the path of every true artist, whose lot is cast
in these modern days, despair and danger are strewn. He has many means
whereby he can attain to honour and might; peace and plenty
persistently offer themselves to him, but only in that form recognised
by the modern man, which to the straightforward artist is no better
than choke-damp. In this temptation, and in the act of resisting it,
lie the dangers that threaten him--dangers arising from his disgust at
the means modernity offers him of acquiring pleasure and esteem, and
from the indignation provoked by the selfish ease of modern society.
Imagine Wagner's filling an official position, as for instance that of
bandmaster at public and court theatres, both of which positions he
has held: think how he, a serious artist, must have struggled in order
to enforce seriousness in those very places which, to meet the demands
of modern conventions, are designed with almost systematic frivolity
to appeal only to the frivolous. Think how he must have partially
succeeded, though only to fail on the whole. How constantly disgust
must have been at his heels despite his repeated attempts to flee it,
how he failed to find the haven to which he might have repaired, and
how he had ever to return to the Bohemians and outlaws of our society,
as one of them. If he himself broke loose from any post or position,
he rarely found a better one in its stead, while more than once
distress was all that his unrest brought him. Thus Wagner changed his
associates, his dwelling-place and country, and when we come to
comprehend the nature of the circles into which he gravitated, we can
hardly realise how he was able to tolerate them for any length of
time. The greater half of his past seems to be shrouded in heavy mist;
for a long time he appears to have had no general hopes, but only
hopes for the morrow, and thus, although he reposed no faith in the
future, he was not driven to despair. He must have felt like a
nocturnal traveller, broken with fatigue, exasperated from want of
sleep, and tramping wearily along beneath a heavy burden, who, far
from fearing the sudden approach of death, rather longs for it as
something exquisitely charming. His burden, the road and the
night--all would disappear! The thought was a temptation to him. Again
and again, buoyed up by his temporary hopes, he plunged anew into the
turmoil of life, and left all apparatus behind him. But his method of
doing this, his lack of moderation in the doing, betrayed what a
feeble hold his hopes had upon him; how they were only stimulants to
which he had recourse in an extremity. The conflict between his
aspirations and his partial or total inability to realise them,
tormented him like a thorn in the flesh. Infuriated by constant
privations, his imagination lapsed into the dissipated, whenever the
state of want was momentarily relieved. Life grew ever more and more
complicated for him; but the means and artifices that he discovered in
his art as a dramatist became evermore resourceful and daring. Albeit,
these were little more than palpable dramatic makeshifts and
expedients, which deceived, and were invented, only for the moment. In
a flash such means occurred to his mind and were used up. Examined
closely and without prepossession, Wagner's life, to recall one of
Schopenhauer's expressions, might be said to consist largely of
comedy, not to mention burlesque. And what the artist's feelings must
have been, conscious as he was, during whole periods of his life, of
this undignified element in it,--he who more than any one else,
perhaps, breathed freely only in sublime and more than sublime
spheres,-- the thinker alone can form any idea.
In the midst of this mode of life, a detailed description of which is
necessary in order to inspire the amount of pity, awe, and admiration
which are its due, he developed a talent for acquiring knowledge,
which even in a German--a son of the nation learned above all
others--was really extraordinary. And with this talent yet another
danger threatened Wagner--a danger more formidable than that involved
in a life which was apparently without either a stay or a rule, borne
hither and thither by disturbing illusions. From a novice trying his
strength, Wagner became a thorough master of music and of the theatre,
as also a prolific inventor in the preliminary technical conditions
for the execution of art. No one will any longer deny him the glory of
having given us the supreme model for lofty artistic execution on a
large scale. But he became more than this, and in order so to develop,
he, no less than any one else in like circumstances, had to reach the
highest degree of culture by virtue of his studies. And wonderfully he
achieved this end! It is delightful to follow his progress. From all
sides material seemed to come unto him and into him, and the larger
and heavier the resulting structure became, the more rigid was the
arch of the ruling and ordering thought supporting it. And yet access
to the sciences and arts has seldom been made more difficult for any
man than for Wagner; so much so that he had almost to break his own
road through to them. The reviver of the simple drama, the discoverer
of the position due to art in true human society, the poetic
interpreter of bygone views of life, the philosopher, the historian,
the aesthete and the critic, the master of languages, the mythologist
and the myth poet, who was the first to include all these wonderful
and beautiful products of primitive times in a single Ring, upon which
he engraved the runic characters of his thoughts-- what a wealth of
knowledge must Wagner have accumulated and commanded, in order to have
become all that! And yet this mass of material was just as powerless
to impede the action of his will as a matter of detail--however
attractive--was to draw his purpose from its path. For the exceptional
character of such conduct to be appreciated fully, it should be
compared with that of Goethe,-- he who, as a student and as a sage,
resembled nothing so much as a huge river-basin, which does not pour
all its water into the sea, but spends as much of it on its way there,
and at its various twists and turns, as it ultimately disgorges at its
mouth. True, a nature like Goethe's not only has, but also engenders,
more pleasure than any other; there is more mildness and noble
profligacy in it; whereas the tenor and tempo of Wagner's power at
times provoke both fear and flight. But let him fear who will, we
shall only be the more courageous, in that we shall be permitted to
come face to face with a hero who, in regard to modern culture, "has
never learned the meaning of fear."
But neither has he learned to look for repose in history and
philosophy, nor to derive those subtle influences from their study
which tend to paralyse action or to soften a man unduly. Neither the
creative nor the militant artist in him was ever diverted from his
purpose by learning and culture. The moment his constructive powers
direct him, history becomes yielding clay in his hands. His attitude
towards it then differs from that of every scholar, and more nearly
resembles the relation of the ancient Greek to his myths; that is to
say, his subject is something he may fashion, and about which he may
write verses. He will naturally do this with love and a certain
becoming reverence, but with the sovereign right of the creator
notwithstanding. And precisely because history is more supple and more
variable than a dream to him, he can invest the most individual case
with the characteristics of a whole age, and thus attain to a
vividness of narrative of which historians are quite incapable. In
what work of art, of any kind, has the body and soul of the Middle
Ages ever been so thoroughly depicted as in Lohengrin? And will not
the Meistersingers continue to acquaint men, even in the remotest ages
to come, with the nature of Germany's soul? Will they not do more than
acquaint men of it? Will they not represent its very ripest fruit--the
fruit of that spirit which ever wishes to reform and not to overthrow,
and which, despite the broad couch of comfort on which it lies, has
not forgotten how to endure the noblest discomfort when a worthy and
novel deed has to be accomplished?
And it is just to this kind of discomfort that Wagner always felt
himself drawn by his study of history and philosophy: in them he not
only found arms and coats of mail, but what he felt in their presence
above all was the inspiring breath which is wafted from the graves of
all great fighters, sufferers, and thinkers. Nothing distinguishes a
man more from the general pattern of the age than the use he makes of
history and philosophy. According to present views, the former seems
to have been allotted the duty of giving modern man breathing-time, in
the midst of his panting and strenuous scurry towards his goal, so
that he may, for a space, imagine he has slipped his leash. What
Montaigne was as an individual amid the turmoil of the
Reformation--that is to say, a creature inwardly coming to peace with
himself, serenely secluded in himself and taking breath, as his best
reader, Shakespeare, understood him, --this is what history is to the
modern spirit today. The fact that the Germans, for a whole century,
have devoted themselves more particularly to the study of history,
only tends to prove that they are the stemming, retarding, and
becalming force in the activity of modern society--a circumstance
which some, of course, will place to their credit. On the whole,
however, it is a dangerous symptom when the mind of a nation turns
with preference to the study of the past. It is a sign of flagging
strength, of decline and degeneration; it denotes that its people are
perilously near to falling victims to the first fever that may happen
to be rife --the political fever among others. Now, in the history of
modern thought, our scholars are an example of this condition of
weakness as opposed to all reformative and revolutionary activity. The
mission they have chosen is not of the noblest; they have rather been
content to secure smug happiness for their kind, and little more.
Every independent and manly step leaves them halting in the
background, although it by no means outstrips history. For the latter
is possessed of vastly different powers, which only natures like
Wagner have any notion of; but it requires to be written in a much
more earnest and severe spirit, by much more vigorous students, and
with much less optimism than has been the case hitherto. In fact, it
requires to be treated quite differently from the way German scholars
have treated it until now. In all their works there is a continual
desire to embellish, to submit and to be content, while the course of
events invariably seems to have their approbation. It is rather the
exception for one of them to imply that he is satisfied only because
things might have turned out worse; for most of them believe, almost
as a matter of course, that everything has been for the best simply
because it has only happened once. Were history not always a disguised
Christian theodicy, were it written with more justice and fervent
feeling, it would be the very last thing on earth to be made to serve
the purpose it now serves, namely, that of an opiate against
everything subversive and novel. And philosophy is in the same plight:
all that the majority demand of it is, that it may teach them to
understand approximate facts--very approximate facts--in order that
they may then become adapted to them. And even its noblest exponents
press its soporific and comforting powers so strongly to the fore,
that all lovers of sleep and of loafing must think that their aim and
the aim of philosophy are one. For my part, the most important
question philosophy has to decide seems to be, how far things have
acquired an unalterable stamp and form, and, once this question has
been answered, I think it the duty of philosophy unhesitatingly and
courageously to proceed with the task of improving that part of the
world which has been recognised as still susceptible to change. But
genuine philosophers do, as a matter of fact, teach this doctrine
themselves, inasmuch as they work at endeavouring to alter the very
changeable views of men, and do not keep their opinions to themselves.
Genuine disciples of genuine philosophies also teach this doctrine;
for, like Wagner, they understand the art of deriving a more decisive
and inflexible will from their master's teaching, rather than an
opiate or a sleeping draught. Wagner is most philosophical where he is
most powerfully active and heroic. It was as a philosopher that he
went, not only through the fire of various philosophical systems
without fear, but also through the vapours of science and scholarship,
while remaining ever true to his highest self. And it was this highest
self which exacted from his versatile spirit works as complete as his
were, which bade him suffer and learn, that he might accomplish such
works.