Volume XI, Issue II, Spring 2018

THE AGONIST
Dionysian Logos:
On Nietzsche’s Poetic Typology and the “Closing
Melodies” of The Gay Science, Zarathustra, and Beyond Good
and Evil
Rainer J. Hanshe
As the Eiffel Tower, arch symbol of modernity, rose to completion in
Paris in 1889, Nietzsche collapsed in the Carlo Alberto Piazza in Torino, not far
from the Mole Antonelliana, a newly constructed synagogue that, perhaps
fittingly, became in the late 20 th century Italy’s National Museum of Cinema.
Constructed between 1863 and 1889—thus spanning Nietzsche’s entire adult
life—the Antonelliana was one of the philosopher’s most beloved architectural
structures and, “because of its absolute drive for elevation,” he said it reminded
him “of nothing so much as my Zarathustra. I have baptized the tower Ecce
Homo, and in spirit have opened an enormous free space around it.” 1 Thus, a
synagogue evokes for Nietzsche not only his greatest gift to mankind, but is
sanctified by him with the name of his exalted autobiography. The significance
of architecture for Nietzsche is crystallized in this account, which illustrates
both his view that buildings must be conducive to thinking, and that grand style
itself is a form of architecture, revealing his concern with structure and design—
as will be illustrated, and the musical sense of the following term is meant
deliberately to convey a fitting and pertinent resonance, this is evident in the
very composition of his books.
Two days prior to his collapse, Nietzsche corrected the proofs of the
Dionysus Dithyrambs, which would be his penultimate book, then added this
dedication: “Sing to me a new song: The world is transfigured and all the
heavens are glad.” 2 Signing it “The Crucified One,” the parodist of world
history offered us his last gift, not the tender of redemption, but a final series of
Pindaric-inspired songs. If his first published book was not a poetic work as he
later thought it should have been—a point endlessly reiterated but perhaps here
of particular and more precise relevance—his last book was: he did dare say
1 KSB 8: 566. From a letter dated December 30, 1888.
2 KSB 8: 575. This sentence is taken from a postcard Nietzsche wrote to Heinrich
Köselitz.
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