I
do not have to be pressed hard-- in fact, I do not have to be pressed at all--
to admit that in too many cases where my versions of historical events sharply
differ from the “facts in evidence,” there is no way for me to independently
corroborate my stories. Most of my counter-conventional sources are dead by
now, but, had they been alive, it wouldn’t have made any difference. The stories
which I am telling have been known to a fairly substantial number of people,
and the fact itself that these people have not come out with them so far, tells
me in no uncertain terms that they may never surface, unless I unbind these
other people’s underwater hostages just like Harry Potter tries to do it
in The Goblet of Fire.
But,
ironically, had any of my silent sources, by sheer magic, admitted to their
veracity, and even produced a document or two, in their corroboration, their
essential veracity would not have been soundly established even then, as
history by its nature relies on a mixture of spurious fact and enlightened
fiction, and the only solid truth about it is that nothing about it can ever be
trusted as what really-really happened.
But
this is all a purely casuistic dilemma. There is actually no need to dig up the
unknowable truth, as long as the fiction it stands for, rises to the level of
greatness and fits in seamlessly into the overall consistency of the big
picture. Those truth-digging laborers of history, whom I have mentioned before,
in my comment on Nietzsche’s critical historians, are in fact no better
than nitpickers, in so far as they miss that big picture in their quest for
some official confirmation, which no one can successfully obtain, as I have
also observed before. In this respect, no historian, even the most thorough of
all, can ever rise to the level of the poet imagining history, unless he
wishes to stand side by side with the poet, learn from him, and then, and only
then, venture to write about it.
One
of the best treatises on this point belongs to Schopenhauer in his Die Welt
als Wille und Vorstellung, which I am delighted to quote at some length
here, due to this passage’s enduring importance:
“The poet from his deliberate choice
represents significant characters in significant situations; the historian
takes both as they come. He must regard and select the circumstances and the people
not with reference to their inward significance which expresses the Idea, but
according to the outward, apparent and relatively unimportant significance,
with regard to the connection and the consequences. He must consider nothing in
and for itself in its essential character and expression, but must look at
everything in its relations, in its connection, in its influence upon what follows,
and especially upon its own age.
“Therefore he will not overlook an
action of a king, though of little significance and in itself quite common
because it has results and influence. And, on the other hand, the actions of
the highest significance of very eminent individuals are not to be recorded by
him if they have no consequences. For his treatment follows the principle of
sufficient reason, and apprehends the phenomenon, of which this principle is
the form.
“But the poet comprehends the Idea,
the inner nature of man apart from all relations, outside all time, the
adequate objectivity of the thing-in-itself, at its highest grade. Even in that
method of treatment, which is necessary for the historian, the inner nature and
significance of the phenomena, the kernel of these shells, can never be
entirely lost. He who seeks for it, at any rate, may find it. and recognize it.
Yet that which is significant in itself, not in its relations, the real
unfolding of the Idea, will be found much more accurately and distinctly in
poetry, than in history, and therefore, however paradoxical it may sound, far
more really genuine inner truth is to be attributed to poetry than to history.
“For the historian must accurately
follow the particular event according to life, as it develops itself in time in
the manifold tangled chains of causes and effects. It is however impossible
that he can have all the data for this; he cannot have seen all and discovered
all. He is forsaken at every moment by the original of his picture, or a false
one substitutes itself for it, and this so constantly, that I think that I may
assume that in all history the false outweighs the true. The poet, on the
contrary, has comprehended the Idea of man from some definite side which is to
be represented; thus it is the nature of his own self that objectifies itself
in it for him. His knowledge is half a priori; his ideal stands before his mind
firm, distinct, brightly illuminated and cannot forsake him; therefore, he
shows us, in the mirror of his mind, the Idea, pure and distinct, and his
delineation of it down to the minutest particular is true as life itself. (Compare this to my idea of truth in creation!)
“The great ancient historians are,
therefore, in those particulars, in which their data fail them, for
example, in the speeches of their heroes, poets; indeed, their whole
manner of handling their material approaches to the epic.” (Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung,
#51.)
Compare
this luminous deliberation to a similar idea, also expressed by Nietzsche, as a
recurring leitmotif throughout his writings, but certainly finding its
spiritual source in this passage from Schopenhauer. There is no indignity then
in walking in the footsteps of these two inspired giants, and in expressing my
desire to write history along their lines, namely, as a creator, a
poet, rather than a simple recorder of other people’s recollections.
Therefore,
I am willing to make one additional step forward in my current presentation,
hereby attesting to the fact that I am assuredly representing my history not as
some odd bits and pieces, some scraps collected from others, but as a
vision of history entirely of my own. In doing this, I am the only authority
behind my effort, and consequently I am in no need of any footnotes or attributions
otherwise required, but in my case required not.
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