The Birth of Tragedy; or, Hellenism and Pessimism — Nietzsche — John Shaqi
The Birth of Tragedy; or, Hellenism and Pessimism
Nietzsche · en
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 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 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