Esteemed friend,
I have just finished reading the pamphlet you sent me, written by Dr. Phil. Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, and this reply to your Birth of Tragedy Out of the Spirit of Music has created certain impressions of which I should like to relieve my mind by propounding to you a few questions, which you may deem of a surprising character. I do this in the hope of moving you to an explanatory answer, and one as stimulating as your discussion of Greek tragedy.
First of all, I should like to ask you to explain an educational phenomenon which I have observed in my own case. At the time I was attending the Kreuzschule in Dresden, no boy could have had greater enthusiasm for classical antiquity than myself; although it was Greek mythology and history which interested me most deeply, I also felt strongly drawn to the study of the Greek language, to such an extent, in fact, that I was almost rebellious in my efforts to shirk my Latin tasks. It is impossible for me to judge whether or not my case was a normal one, but I may be pardoned for referring to the fact that my favorite master at the Kreuzschule, Dr. Sillig—still living, I hope—was so gratified with my enthusiasm for the classics that he strongly urged me to adopt philology as my profession. I likewise remember well how my later teachers at the Nikolai and Thomas schools in Leipzig succeeded in rooting out these tastes and inclinations, and I find no difficulty in explaining this when I reflect upon the general policy of these masters. As time went on, I began to entertain serious doubts as to whether these tastes and inclinations had ever taken strong hold upon me, as they seemed to degenerate rapidly into those of an entirely different character. It was only during my period of later development that I began to grow conscious of the fact that the regular outcropping of these inclinations indicated that something had been stifled in me by a fatal system of schooling. Again and again, amid the most absorbing tasks of a life entirely removed from these studies, the only way by which I seemed to be able to gain a breath of freedom was by plunging into this antique world, however much I was now handicapped by having well-nigh forgotten the language. On the other hand, while envying Mendelssohn his philological fluency, I could but wonder why this philological knowledge had not prevented him from writing his music to the dramas of Sophocles, since I, despite my ignorance, had more respect for the spirit of antiquity than he seemed to display. I have also known a number of other musicians who could make no use of their knowledge of Greek in their composing and music-making in general, whereas I, strange to say, had worked out an ideal for my musical viewpoints despite my restricted intercourse with the antique. Be that as it may, I only know there arose in me the vague feeling that the real spirit of the antique was as little apprehended by the average teacher of Greek, for example, as a genuine appreciation of French history and culture is to be presupposed on the part of our French masters.
But now comes Dr. Phil. U. W. von Moellendorff with the statement that it is the serious aim of scientific philology to inculcate into the mind of the German youth the idea that "classical antiquity vouchsafes the one and only Imperishable, containing a promise of the favor of the muses in its absolute purity and fullness. It is this alone which can imbue the soul with the Substance, and the mind with the Form"!
Still thrilled by this magnificent apostrophe of his pamphlet, I look about me in the newly-created German Empire, in search of the blessings resulting from the cultivation of this philological science; these blessings should surely be manifest, for, hedged in by their own inviolability, they have hitherto trained our German youth on principles none dared to question. First of all, I was struck by the fact that every one among us who lays claim to the favor of the muses, and this includes practically our whole artistic and poetic world, jogs along without recourse to philology. At all events, that thorough-going knowledge of the languages which should be made the basis of all classical studies pursued by the philologists does not seem to have extended its functions to the correct treatment of our German mother tongue. The ever-growing tendency to employ a luxuriant jargon, which manifests itself in our newspapers and from there spreads to the works of our writers on art and literature, will soon necessitate racking one's brains every time one writes a word, in order to determine whether this word belongs rightfully to German etymology, or has been borrowed from a Wisconsin stock market report. But however dark things look in the field of belles-lettres, the objection could always be advanced that this had nothing to do with philology, as this branch of science had pledged her services less to the artistic muses than to the scientific. In that case, should we not expect to find her influence manifested among the faculties of our higher educational institutions? Theologians, jurists, and the men of the medical profession, however, deny having anything to do with philology. If this be true, then the philologians will have no one to instruct but each other, presumably for the purpose of turning out more and more philologians—that is to say, more gymnasium masters and university professors, who in turn will bake a fresh batch of gymnasium teachers and university professors. This I can understand, the idea being to preserve the science in all its purity, and not only to inculcate a profound respect for this science upon the state, but also to bind upon her conscience the necessity of making adequate provision for the salaries of philological incumbents.
But no! Dr. Phil. U. W. v. M. expressly states that the chief thing should be the training of our German youth by all kinds of "ascetic processes to attain that one Imperishable, promising the favor of the muses." So, after all, philology must have a high aim and one that strives towards productive culture. This much is to be assumed at least, so it seems to me. However, this tendency seems to be in danger of complete disintegration as a result of the peculiar process in her present discipline. One thing is evident, and that is, philological science at the present time exerts no influence whatever upon the general conditions of German culture, whereas, on the other hand, the theological faculty supplies us with parsons and prelates, the faculty of jurisprudence with lawyers and judges, the medical faculty with doctors—all of them practical and useful citizens. Philology furnishes us with nothing but philologists, who are not of the slightest use to any one but their own little circle. It may be seen from this that the Brahmins of India were not of a more exalted and exclusive rank than our philologians, and that, therefore, we are justified in expecting a word of inspiration from them from time to time; and of a truth, that is precisely what we do expect. We are awaiting the man who shall step down from this marvellous sphere and, without employing erudite terms and terrifying quotations, tell us laymen just what it is that the initiated perceive behind the veil of their incomprehensible researches, and whether it is worth while to maintain so expensive a caste. But we expect of this revelation that it must be something very great, very elevating, and something well worth cultivating, and not merely this elegant tinkling of cymbals with which they seek to satisfy us from time to time in their popular lectures to "mixed" audiences. This great and elevating something for which we are waiting seems to be very difficult of utterance; it almost seems as if a peculiar, uncanny apprehension had taken hold of these gentlemen and aroused the fear that by dispensing with all the mysterious attributes of philological consequentiality, and with all quotations, annotations and fitting mutual felicitations between greater and lesser colleagues—in other words, by letting the light of day illumine the dark recesses—they would thereby be disclosing the depressing poverty to which this particular science had degenerated.
I can imagine that for any one attempting such a thing, nothing would remain but to stretch forth a hand and forcibly seize upon revivifying forces from the inexhaustible fountain-heads of human knowledge, which have hitherto waited in vain to be revivified by philology. Any philologian who determined to do anything of this kind would experience the same treatment you are now receiving, valued friend, since deciding to publish your profound treatise on the genesis of tragedy. At the first glance, it was plain to be seen that we had to do here with a philologian who was addressing himself to us and not to his colleagues; for this reason our hearts beat high, and we regained our courage, completely lost by reading the customary philological dissertations upon Homer, the tragic poets and the like, filled with quotations and empty as to content. This time we had a text but no annotations! Standing on the mountain top, we looked across the spreading plains without fear of being disturbed by the drunken brawls of the peasants down below. But it seems as if we were not to be left in peaceful possession of our acquisition, as philology stoutly maintains that your feet are still firmly planted on her soil, and that, therefore, you are not emancipated, but merely an apostate, and that neither you nor any of the rest of us are to be spared a sound cudgelling with annotations. As a matter of fact, the hailstorm has already broken; a Dr. Phil. has hurled regular philological thunderbolts. Fortunately, such storms are of short duration at this time of the year, and so long as one is raging, all sensible persons remain under cover, just as one gives wide berth to an enraged bull. We agree with Socrates in thinking that it is absurd to reply to the hoof of an ass with the toe of a man, and yet an explanation is due those of us who have followed the trend of events without being able to understand fully just what it is all about. Therefore, I now address myself to you.
We had not believed that so much rudeness could be committed in the "service of the muses," nor that their "favor" produced such a lamentable lack of polish as we here perceive in one who claims to possess "that only Imperishable." Now those who, like ourselves, know nothing of philology are disposed to defer to the statements of such a man, particularly when these statements are supported by such a formidable array of quotations from the archives of the guild; but we are plunged into direct doubt, not so much by that scholar's wilful non-understanding of your essay, but rather by his inability to understand the very simplest arguments. We refer here to the passage where he attributes to you an optimistic meaning in your quotation from Goethe, "Behold thy world. A world indeed!" and, indignant with you at not understanding your Faust better, deems it necessary to explain to you that "Faust is speaking ironically."
What name shall we give this? A question not easy to answer in a communication intended for public consumption. For my own part, such an experience as the one gained from the case in question is most disheartening. You will remember how zealously I advocated the study of the classics some years ago, in my essay on German Art and German Policy, and how I predicted a progressive deterioration of our national culture as a result of the ever-increasing neglect of these studies on the part of our artists and writers.
But what does it serve a man if he give himself infinite pains to acquire philological knowledge? From the studies of J. Grimm I took an early "Heilawac," remodeled it into a "Weiawaga" (a form met with today in the word "Weihwasser") to make it more adaptable for my purpose; I then derived from it the nearly related roots of "wogen" and "wiegen," "wollen" and "wallen," and thus built up a root-syllabic melody for my Rhine Maidens, something after the analogy of the "Eia popeia" of our nursery rhymes. What was the result? I am hooted to the very doors of the Allgemeine Zeitung by our journalistic street arabs, and it is upon this "proverbial wigala weia," as he is pleased to call it, that a learned Dr. Phil. now bases his contempt for my so-called poetry.
Of a truth, my friend, you owe us a word or two of explanation! And by "we" I mean those of us who entertain the gravest fear for the future of German culture. These fears are increased by a knowledge of the singularly high regard foreigners have for this culture, with the early budding of which they have only recently become acquainted. Unquestionably each nation has its own germ of cretinism. In the case of the French we find their absinthe finishing what the Académie began, to wit, an absurd attitude of childish ridicule of everything not immediately understood, and therefore excluded by the Académie from the national scheme of culture. It is true that with us philology has not yet acquired the power of the Académie, nor is our beer so dangerous as absinthe; but the Germans possess other qualities, such as envy and the correspondingly mischievous spitefulness, allied to a degree of insincerity which is all the more pernicious because it wears the mask of old-time sturdiness. These qualities are so pernicious that they might easily rank as substitutes for the poisons we have not.
How do matters stand with our German educational institutions? This question we address to you in particular, singled out as you were at an early age by a distinguished master of philology to occupy a university chair, where your laurels were so rapidly won as to embolden you to step out from this vicious circle and, with a hand truly creative, point out its shortcomings.
We do not mean to hurry you! No pressure will be brought to bear upon you, least of all by that Doctor of Philosophy who politely invites you to vacate your chair, a thing you most assuredly have no intention of doing merely to oblige this gentleman; and even should you do so, there is not the slightest likelihood of his being chosen to succeed you in the place where you have worked. That which we expect from you can only be the lifetime task of a man sorely needed in high places, a man such as you have shown yourself to be to all those who ask enlightenment from the noblest wellsprings of the German spirit, from the profound seriousness by which it is permeated, as to the form to be taken by German culture if it is ever to help the re-born nation to achieve its noblest aims and aspirations.
Heartfelt greetings.
Source: The Nietzsche-Wagner Correspondence, ed. Elizabeth Foerster-Nietzsche, trans. Caroline V. Kerr (Boni and Liveright, 1921), No. 28