And this is how the work of Richard Strauss appears to me up to the
present. Guntram kills Duke Robert, and immediately lets fall his sword.
The frenzied laugh of Zarathustra ends in an avowal of discouraged
impotence. The delirious passion of Don Juan dies away in nothingness.
Don Quixote when dying forswears his illusions. Even the Hero himself
admits the futility of his work, and seeks oblivion in an indifferent
Nature. Nietzsche, speaking of the artists of our time, laughs at "those
Tantaluses of the will, rebels and enemies of laws, who come, broken in
spirit, and fall at the foot of the cross of Christ." Whether it is for
the sake of the Cross or Nothingness, these heroes renounce their
victories in disgust and despair, or with a resignation that is sadder
still. It was not thus that Beethoven overcame his sorrows. Sad adagios
make their lament in the middle of his symphonies, but a note of joy and
triumph is always sounded at the end. His work is the triumph of a
conquered hero; that of Strauss is the defeat of a conquering hero. This
irresoluteness of the will can be still more clearly seen in
contemporary German literature, and in particular in the author of _Die
versunkene Glocke_.
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