Masquerading as Gods: Divine Tragedy in Death in Venice

In Thomas Mann’s novella Death in Venice, Aschenbach’s romanticization of the divine tragedy reveals a craving for suffering in pursuit of godhood. Aschenbach begins by merely praising devastation as a path to immortality, but the intensification of both his desire for love and control catalyzes a deeper longing to live the suffering. Broken down by the clashing desires that harshly reinforce the reality of his mortality, Aschenbach is propelled towards death and ultimately becomes one with the divinity he idealizes through his annihilation.

In response to his newfound passion, Aschenbach begins to glorify the idea of being consumed by love as a “godly” flaw in order to accept and praise himself. Intoxicated by his admiration for Tadzio, Aschenbach’s mind brings him into the realm of Plato’s Phaedrus in the body of Socrates, asking Phaedrus, “Should we not perish and be consumed with love, as Semele once was with Zeus?” (Mann 235). By suggesting that even Zeus stumbles in the face of Eros, Aschenbach justifies his own vulnerability to love. However, he goes a step further, beginning to idealize annihilation by love as a path to immortality because he desires authority, both over himself and others.  This is signaled by the perspective shift in Aschenbach’s vision – from a previously uninvolved spectator to the first person “we”, his mind positions him as a direct foil to Zeus because that’s who he begins to see himself becoming. With the rhetorical “should we not,” Aschenbach construes his consumption by love as a universal method of achieving godhood. He grasps harder at his growing fantasy of becoming a god, envisioning his concept of love as the blueprint for humanity from the perspective of a divine creator. Finally, Aschenbach’s intoxicated state during this experience shows that his true inner state is always control-driven; previously displayed by his almost-instinctual judgement of other bystanders through a lens of inferiority, Aschenbach is unable to comprehend anything except within the framework of influence and power. His inner state can only find peace by perceiving unbridled love as a symbol of godly superiority. By discovering this connection, Aschenbach is doomed to spiral to the extremes in pursuit of godhood as his desire intensifies; it will inevitably become all that he knows. 

Aschenbach thus entertains his idealizations as his hunger for power heightens, fantasizing about starring in his own divine tragedy. While watching Tadzio play with a ball during sunset, Aschenbach imagines, “Hyacinth who was to die because two gods loved him…he too, growing pale, caught the drooping body—and the flower, sprung from this sweet blood, bore the inscription of his unending grief” (Mann 239). The infinitive “to die,” usually associated with one’s destiny, highlights that Aschenbach has now fully accepted his previous characterization of love as fact. Rather than seeing himself as a parallel to a god as he did with Zeus, Aschenbach embodies Apollo in the tragic tale of Hyacinth. The reference to “[a] flower sprung from this sweet blood,” illustrates how Aschenbach glamorizes Apollo’s role, deriving a sense of supremacy by imagining the object of his love immortalized in its misery. The dichotomy of elegant yet miserable diction exists here because Aschenbach finds pleasure in causing immense suffering through love. In a similar fashion, the immortalization of his lover’s demise in the flower merely acts as a vehicle to reinforce his fantasy of himself as a timeless being. Thus, in a possessive manner, Aschenbach is obsessed with being at the center of his lover’s passing. He describes “[catching] the drooping body,” as if some savior in a fairytale, and “the flower … [bearing] the inscription of [his] unending grief,” as if his emotions had claimed ownership of his lover’s death by inscribing on it. Ultimately, Aschenbach’s fantasy is a way of getting everything he wants: to be both the controller and the controlled; to be consumed by love, yet derive a newfound power to decide others’ fates through it. 

Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, Aschenbach’s original wish was shattered by the revelation of his own mortality, catalyzed by the fruitless hunt for control his inner state could no longer handle. After giving up a rabid chase for Tadzio due to physical exhaustion, he whispers in a half-unconscious state, “The mastery of our style is all lies and foolishness…For how indeed could he be a fit instructor who is born with a natural leaning towards the precipice?” The “master” and “artist of dignity” he once viewed himself as no longer exists (Mann 260); the hopeless and pathetic tone of the terms “lies” and “foolishness” convey a shattered self-image. It coincides with his realization that he has never been able to control Tadzio - the boy leads him on in a cat-and-mouse chase, and then disappears as if he had “cheated” Aschenbach (Mann 260). Although the superiority-driven impulses still display themselves in how he refers to the collective of poets in the third person as if to dodge directing blame unto himself, the fading of those impulses is clear following the destruction of their motivation. The imagery of him “leaning towards the precipice” suggests that Aschenbach’s inner state is making its final decision: to give in and tumble over the edge into pure Eros, or turn back and end up dignified but devoid of his passion. His loose lips and closed eyelids, along with his half-conscious state all signal a loosening of his pursuit; he has been pushed to his physical limits. Aschenbach knows he can no longer fulfill the role of the flawed god because he simply is too mortal to direct the power of love. Despite this, there are two roles to play in his dream tragedy, and his one hope lies in playing the mortal - to surrender completely to a greater god, Eros himself, and become the dead lover in the divine tragedy. 

Just a few days later, he invites annihilation not as the divine creator causing it, but as the mortal destroyed by it. His last moments were spent describing,  “a strongly isolated and unrelated figure with fluttering hair” and “the pale and lovely lure out there [that was] smiling to him, nodding to him” (Mann 263). The imagery of an independent goddess-like figure reminiscent of Aphrodite herself, and the idea of the “lure” beckoning him before his death highlights Aschenbach’s complete surrender to love; no longer even recognizing Tadzio as an individual, Aschenbach becomes nothing but a vessel for Eros’ power, a shell of flesh too weak to bear it alive. Contrasting how he once fantasized about being the destroyer of Tadzio in the same way, he becomes the destroyed in his fantasy, one with Eros by way of self-annihilation. A fantasy taken to the extreme, Aschenbach’s demise is a result of his own doing; lost to the trap of unrequited love that coincided with an unchecked desire for power, he becomes the manifestation of what happens when mortals play with divine energy. He comes face to face with the tragedy he aspires to reach, but not in the role he intended.

Aschenbach is a man driven to extremes by a deluded chase for unattainable power - unable to confront the chaotic and uncontrollable nature of his desire, he creates an illusion of solvency through the idea of divine tragedy. He convinces himself that his vulnerability is a symbol of his godliness, and in a blinded chase for dominance that will inevitably reveal his mortal limits, he drives himself to his demise. A human who once believed he could reign in and command Eros himself, Aschenbach has no choice but to welcome annihilation with open arms once he is too far gone, becoming the tragedy he drove himself to death for. His story is a reflection of the idealist yet self-destructive nature that Mann’s Venice as a whole embodies: a giant masquerade that both officials and the populace participate in, Venice condemns itself to near annihilation as it dances in blissful ignorance.