VV Preface classic transcript

 

Preface

 

Supposing truth to be a woman - what? is the suspicion not well founded that all philosophers, when they have been dogmatists, have had little understanding of women? that the gruesome earnestness, the clumsy importunity with which they have hitherto been in the habit of approaching truth have been inept and improper means for winning a wench?  Certainly she has not let herself be won - and today every kind of dogmatism stands sad and discouraged.  If it continued to stand at all!  for there are scoffers who assert it has fallen down, that dogmatism lies on the floor, more, that dogmatism is at its last gasp.  To speak seriously, there are good grounds for hoping that all dogmatizing in philosophy, the solemn air of finality it has given itself notwithstanding, may nonetheless have been no more than a noble childishness and tyronism; and the time is perhaps very close at hand when it will be grasped in case after case what has been sufficient to furnish the foundation-stone for such sublime and unconditional philosophers' edifices as the dogmatists have hitherto been constructing - some popular superstition or other from time immemorial (such as the soul superstition which, as the subject-and-ego superstition, has not yet ceased to do mischief even today), perhaps some play on words, a grammatical seduction, or an audacious generalization on the basis of very narrow, very personal, very human, all too human facts.  Let us hope that dogmatic philosophy was only a promise across millennia: as, in a still earlier age, was astrology, in the service of which more labour, money, ingenuity and patience has perhaps been expended than for any real science hitherto - we owe to it and to its 'supra-terrestrial' claims the grand style of architecture in Asia and Egypt.  It seems that, in order to inscribe themselves in the hearts of humanity with eternal demands, all great things have first to wander the earth as monstrous and fear-inspiring grotesques: dogmatic philosophy, the doctrine of the Vedanta in Asia and Platonism in Europe for example, was a grotesque of this kind.  Let us not be ungrateful to it, even though it certainly has to be admitted that the worst, most wearisomely protracted and most dangerous of all errors hitherto has been a dogmatist's error, namely Plato's invention of pure spirit and the good in itself.  But now, when that has been overcome, when Europe breathes again after the nightmare and can enjoy at any rate a healthier - sleep, we whose task is wakefulness itself  have inherited all the strength which has been cultivated by the struggle against this error.  To be sure, to speak of spirit and the good as Plato did meant standing truth on her head and denying perspective itself, the basic condition of life; indeed, one may ask as a physician: 'how could such a malady attack this loveliest product of antiquity, Plato? did the wicked Socrates corrupt him after all? could Socrates have been a corrupter of youth after all? and have deserved his hemlock?' - But the struggle against Plato, or, to express it more plainly for 'the people' - has created in Europe a magnificent tension of the spirit such as has never existed on earth before: with so tense a bow one can now shoot for the most distant targets.  European man feels this tension as a state of distress, to be sure; and there have already been two grand attempts to relax the bow, once by means of Jesuitism, the second time by means of democratic enlightenment - which latter may in fact, with the aid of freedom of the press and the reading of newspapers, achieve a state of affairs in which the spirit would no longer so easily feel itself to be a 'need'!  (The Germans invented gunpowder - all credit to them!  But they evened the score again - they invented the press.)  But we who are neither Jesuits nor democrats, nor even sufficiently German, we good Europeans and free, very free spirits - we have it still, the whole need of the spirit and the whole tension of its bow!  And perhaps also the arrow, the task and, who knows? the target ...

 

                                                                                                              Sils-Maria, Upper Engadine.

                                                                                                              June 1885