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The Fall
ful and sustained. The Temptation to Exist is a philosophical romance
on modern themes : alienation, absurdity, boredom, futility, decay, the
tyranny of history, the vulgarities of change, awareness as agony,
reason as disease."- WILLIAM H. GAss, N ew York R eview of Books
•
"One of the best French writers today is a Rumanian in exile. So far,
he is known only to a few admirers, who will be followed by many
Into
others.... There are few French authors who know how to use our
language with such mastery." - CLAUDE MAURIAC
"I have translated some hundred and fifty books, and of them all,
Time
Cioran's work, The Temptation to Exist in particular, has afforded
me the most crucial experience."- RICHARD HowARD
"One of the greatest French writers to honor our language since the
death of Paul Valery. His lofty thought is one of the most rigorous,
independent and interesting in Europe today."- ST.-joHN PERSE
Precis de Decomposition
Syllogismes de l' Amertume
La Tentation d'Exister
Joseph de Maistre (Introduction et choix
de textes)
Histoire et Utopie
La Chute dans le Temps
Le Mauvais Demiurge
IN ENGLISH TRANSLATION
BY RICHARD HOWARD
gaard. We have become proud of our pessimism, ele- the French language, as distinct from French culture,
vated our melancholy to the status of a metaphysic. and French literary culture in particular. While he
Cioran's diagnosis is that while contemporary man may be sloppily assigned to those long if thinning
has managed to begin "dying on his own," his pride ranks of Pascalian skeptics or contemporary "existen-
is such that he cannot even sense the humiliation of tial" thinkers, his achievement lies in the repudiation
the enterprise. Man is the only animal who can en- of such influences-or, more precisely, in carrying the
dure any metamorphosis by putatively explaining it, premises of their relativism to a logical if outrageous
justify any loss without understanding its implica- conclusion. Since Cioran does not engage in specific
tions. This would be an incredible spectacle were polemic nor acknowledge by name any other living
there anyone else to watch it. As it stands, the Apoca- writer, one can only imagine the extent of his con-
lypse becomes only another occasion for self-congratu- tempt for the "committed"·literature of a Sartre, for
lation and theorizing; the Angst of our time, only the the systematic and relentless attempt to justify the
newest form of hubris. duality of being and nonbeing, for the entire enter-
It is the cliches of despair, the banality of the prise of attempting to resolve- the ambiguities of lit-
abyss which fuel Cioran's withering indifference. The erature and life. Similarly, one can see him jeering at
progressive disrealization of the world which began the plight of Camus' Sisyphus, or for that matter at
in the Renaissance is for him an unutterable tragedy, any other of those humorless existential trade union-
a matter to be savored by an elitist of suffering, not ists who compound their incompetence with stoicism,
popularized as the latest accessory to bourgeois ideal- pit their solipsism against determinism and call it
ism. The split between sensation and thinking is not dignity. These "heroic" poses represent for Cioran
a "frame of reference," a problem to be solved only the latest revenge of the intellect against itself
by "interdisciplinary studies," but an insomiiiacal and confirm the loss of our best instincts. "To be
agony, the very articulation of which only redoubles human is no solution," as he says, "any more than
and regenerates our pain. In those few instances in ceasing to be so."
which Cioran drops his lofty detachment, becomes an For Cioran, ontology itself is a specious problem,
active complainer, he echoes Artaud: "All I ask is to even an "ontology of nothingness," to use Michel
Foucault's phrase, since reports of "the void" tend to
feel my brain."
be just as unverifiable as those about what we
"know." There is nothing particularly affirmative
about acknowledging the negative. Just because we
Style as Risk
One can best understand Cioran as a phenomenon of hate ourselves, he observes apropos of Tolstoy, does
12 I Introduction 13 I Introduction
not mean we still arc not living a lie. The realization God; and so, to scramble the metaphor, humans are
of "nothingness" is one thing-like going into a room no more than shadows who project their images upon
and reporting that "nothing was there"-but one can- the mirror of infinity. ("A shadow grappling with
not begin at the beginning of nothingness any m?re images, a somnambulist who sees himself walking
than one can start at the beginning of any learnmg ... ") What Edwards called the "images or shadows
process; one cannot make assertions abou: langu~ge of divine things," Cioran would rearrange as 'divined
or nature from a hypothetical vantage pomt outside images by shadows of no things.' This conclusion of
them. Anomie is our condition, anomia our curse, The Temptation to Exist becomes the working hy-
anomaly our profession. Or to put it another way: pothesis of The Fall into Time. Nothing divine, only
our scabrous individuality consists of trying to name the divined: language, insofar as it can reorient our
our condition. Man loses his primordial grace in lit- behavior, perhaps slows the death of the species; but
erally trying to "make a name" for himself. at the same time, in increasing our endless analogies
The central concern of The Temptation to Exist, for experience, it prevents us from being fully alive
Cioran's first book to appear in English, was to con- to ourselves. Neutralized by our uniqueness, we be-
firm the total disjunction between language and real- come incapable of capitalizing even on what sets us
ity. That work represents a kind of final assault on apart from the animals-our capacity for indifference.
the typology which has formed the basis of Western Style is the man-unfortunately for us. As Cioran
thought-the notion that the physical world em- puts it: "Consciousness is not lucidity. Lucidity,
bodies signs of metaphysical reality; and, more, that man's monopoly, represents the severance process be-
if human intelligence is pure, it can define these cor- tween the mind and the world; it is necessarily con-
respondences through language. "The wo~ks of Go~" sciousness of consciousness, and if we are to distin-
as Jonathan Edwards had it, "are but a kmd ~f. voice guish ourselves from the animals, it is lucidity alone
or language to instruct beings in things pertammg to which must receive the credit or the blame."
himself ... wherever we are, and whatever we are Language as a vicious circle literally signifying noth-
about, we may see divine things excellently repre- ing except itself becomes the exaggeration pro forma
sented ... and it will abundantly tend to confirm the of man's condition-all speech hyperbole, all prose
Scriptures, for there is an excellent agreement between rhetorical, all poetry prosedemic, all thought proleptic.
these things and the Scripture." It is not a new idea. Nietzsche elaborated it better
But for Cioran, language is a sticky symbolic net, than anyone. Wittgenstein confirmed it with positiv-
an infinite regression from things cutting men off ist precision: "Philosophy is a battle against bewitch-
from the world, as they once cut themselves off from ment of our intelligence by the means of language."
1 5 I Introduction
14 I Introduction
even say asphyxiation. The more Cioran attacks ra-
Cioran would be appalled if anyone accused him of
tionality, the more pellucid he becomes. There are no
originality in thought, which would not be necessarily
transitions, no breathing spaces between these para-
desirable even if it were possible. What is original is
graphs, no hiatus in these gnomic sentences, so classic
his personalization of these ideas through his style:
in their density, yet touched with baroque recapitula-
"Every idolatry of style starts from the belief that
tions which heighten not the harmony but the irony.
reality is even more hollow than its verbal figuration,
The book should end with a blank signature to hold
that the accent of an idea is worth more than the
the air that has been extruded from the text.
idea, a well-turned excuse more than a conviction, a
It is not difficult to translate Cioran's ideas for
skillful image more than an unconsidered explosion. '
their apothegmatic arrangement lends itself to facile
. . . A well-proportioned sentence, satisfied with its
reconstruction. The temptation is to cease his mo-
equilibrium or swollen with its sonority, all too often
mentum, grasp him by the aphorism, make him into
conceals the malaise of a mind incapable of acceding
a kind of Gallic Oscar Wilde. The problem is to
by sensation to an original universe. What is surpris-
capture his complexity as well as his precision, both
ing if style should be simultaneously a mask and an
the acceleration and aphasia of his cyclic cadences,
admission?"
and this is the particular triumph of Richard
French, that pluperfect language, is the perfect ve-
Howard's translation. It is the decisiveness of Cioran's
hicle for Cioran, whose thought is circuitous without
style which both accentuates and gives the lie to the
being tautological, whose circumvolved syntax can
ambivalence of his message; it is a style which does
gather a point and discharge it in the same phrase.
not embody his thoughts as much as it exemplifies
His style is so sonorous that even the reader who
the consequences of his thought. As Edward Said has
could not understand the French of the following
pointed out, Cioran is to the essay what Borges is to
could delight in saying it aloud to himself: "Je reve
fiction.*
d' une langue dont les mots, commes des poings,
fracasseraient les machoires . ..." Cioran's sentences
lie about his culture like clean shards struck from an His Friends, the Enemy
unfinished, blocked-out torso. For Cioran, sterility itself becomes a strategy. His
While nothing in The Fall into Time offers as
much of a lyrical tour de force as the essays "A
. " Edward W. Said, "Amateur of the Insoluble," Hudson Re-
People of Solitaries" or "Beyond the Novel" in The V?ew, :XXI, No. 4 (Winter 1968-I96c)). This is the best con-
Temptation to Exist, The Fall represents an even s~deratJon of The Temptation to Exist to appear in either Eng-
lish or French.
more advanced process of compression, one might
16 I Introduction 17 I Introduction
method is calculated to defy introduction, his indi- self-conscious piece * I wrote to refute those who
vidual works serve to undermine his oeuvre. The similarly, if rather belatedly, rehearsed their versions
parts are always more than the whole. But at the of "the death of the novel." In the end, I found my-
same time he infects us with what he insists is man's self quoting him in defense of my positions, which
worst impulse-to append, explain, refute, to add to were presumably refutations of his. What's more, it
-to take language as seriously as we might take life worked. A self-contradiction which Cioran would ap-
were we abler. Other writers cry out for attention; plaud for its own sake.
one reads Cioran to be rid of him. One writes in Likewise, in the first sustained appreciation of his
order to ignore him. One is "fair" to him at one's work to appear in English, Claude Mauriac, after
peril. For his attenuation and ascesis demand that we praising Cioran highly and admitting his central point
justify those impure energies which activate our will- -"meaning begins to be dated ... we know nothing
ingness to account for him, to put him in context- that essentially distinguishes us ... as a result, we all
for in doing so, we confess our inability to take him write the same books"-Mauriac suddenly cries out
at his word, becoming one of that "throng of readers, at the end of his essay: "I shall not give up the idea
those omnipresent and invisible murderers." Not un- of seeing and knowing more than what we already
like certain great ladies, he possesses you in order to see and know. Therefore, we reaffirm that even for
disdain your interest. alitterateurs, everything ends in literature. . . ." t
In this respect, he asks to be demolished, but only Which is of course the point that Cioran is making
totally, and so maintains a certain invulnerability. For ten years later in The Fall into Time. It is impor-
what he says of Sextus Empericus applies to himself: tant to notice how Cioran forces Mauriac, forces
"Too subtle and too methodical to compete with the all of us, to admit that the urge to fictionalize, to see
new superstitions, [his treatises] were the expression and know more, is basically irrational, if not eviU
of a world already consummated, futureless, doomed.
Yet skepticism, whose theses they had codified, man-
""Beyond Omniscience: Notes Towards a Future for the
aged to survive a while on lost positions." Novel," in The Ne-w American Writers, edited by Charles
It is easy to quote Cioran against himself; indeed, Newman and William Henkin, Bloomington, Ind., 1969.
t Claude Mauriac, The New Literature, New York, 1957.
he demands it. But the strategy requires that you have :t: This idea is elaborated in Cioran's most recent book. The
the last word. No one who has written on him to date Evil Demiurge (1969), in which he primarily addresses himself
has been able to resist it. I first came across him-or to what Camus called the only philosophical question-that of
~icide-and dismisses it characteristically: "L'obsession du sui-
rather his essay on the novel-nine years ago, and that ctde est le propre de celui jui ne peut ni vivre ni mourir et dont
essay was later to serve as a departure point for a l'attention ne s'ecarte jamais de cette double impossibilite."
18 I Introduction 19 I Introduction
Nevertheless, one should not view him as an some epistolary paragraphs on the possibilities of love
alitterateur in Mauriac's tradition, for indeed his in- and growth as an antidote to Cioran's "incurable pes-
dictment of fiction applies most strongly to the "new" simism": "To feel at home in our body, to sense the
or anti-novel: "These days, no one escapes the exacer- true nostos of it, is, to have it move to our will so
bation of the intellect ... the monumental no longer smoothly we ~eem ~ill-less altogether." Actually, what
possible . . . the interesting is raised to the level of a Cioran is saying in The Temptation to Exist is thatit
genre .... Page after page, the accumulation of incon- is our penchant for diagnosis which is our sickness,
sequence ... the advent of a novel without a subject and that is precisely why it is incurable. It is our re-
... no more plot, characters, complications, causality lentless attempt to be well that distracts us and fin-
... psychology cancels itself out ... only a self sur- ishes us off in the end. Again, Cioran has provoked
vives, recalling that it once existed . . . the novelist the reader-who-is-also-a-writer into the kind of self-
knows only the periphery, the boundaries of being; justificatory and sentimental outburst which he de-
that is why he is a writer. . . ." And in any case, fines as the seat of our hopelessness. And to the
Cioran sees himself less a negator than a doubter, analogy of the will-less body with which Gass attacks
because "to live without a goal is more difficult than his Temptation to Exist, Cioran would seem to offer
to live for a bad cause." an oblique rejoinder in The Fall into Time: "True,
Finally, Cioran knows he has an advantage and most men breathe without realizing, without thinking
admits it. "Criticism is of the ages," he says, ". . . about it; should their breath fail them someday, they
religious inspirations [and, we presume, other art] a will discover how air, suddenly converted into a prob-
privilege of certain eminently rare periods. It requires lem, haunts them every instant. Woe unto those who
a great deal of thoughtlessness and intoxication to en- know they are breathing...."
gender a god, to kill one requires only a little atten- Similarly, or at least more topically, Susan Sontag,
tion." Cioran reaffirms Thomas Mann's pronounce- after much praise and brilliant analysis, ends up by
ment that every modem artist must become his own placing Cioran against John Cage, which is precisely
critic-but for Cioran this is hardly a salutary event, the sort of ludicrous juxtaposition and oblation that
just the necessity of the artist to explain what he Cioran asks for-but again, the critic is finally re-
might have done. duced to telling us about herself, finishing the story
In another vein, William Gass makes use of a Cioran drops so engagingly.* ("We attribute reality
vitriolic and lengthy attack upon Cioran * to append to others," Cioran says, "only insofar as we discover
it in ourselves.")
" William H. Gass, "The Evil Demiurge," New York Review ""On Cioran," TriQuarterly 11 (Winter 11)68). Introduction to
of Books, August 22, 11)68. The Temptation to Exist (Chicago, H)68).
21 I Introduction
20 I Introduction
the point where he prefers, to its excesses, those of
There is, however, one aspect of Miss Sontag's pro- ter~or. To these disadvantages are added others:
gram for Cioran which I think would baffle him, for a liberal society, eliminating mystery, the absolute,
while he would heartily approve of her habit of put- order, and posse~sing the true metaphysic no more
t~an a true. pol~c~,. cast .the individual back upon
ting concepts such as The West in quotes and now himself, while dlVldmg him from what he is from
in parentheses, her characterization of his political his ow~ depths. . .' . Ir~1agine. a society ove~popu
sensibility as "right-wing Catholic" is a bit shallow, lated With doubt, m which, With the exception of
a f~w strays, no one adheres utterly to anything; in
even if one acknowledges the old cliche about how which unscathed by superstition, certainties, every-
much French Catholics secretly desire to be Commu- one pays lip service to freedom and no one respects
nists and vice versa. It is important to note that, hav- the form of government which defends and incar-
ing survived the major political cataclysms of this cen- nat~s it. . . . You arc disappointed after promises
which could not be kept; we, by a lack of any
tury, Cioran's indifference to politics, his taking his promises at all. . . .*
alien status seriously (which is to say, metaphori-
cally), results in an attitude which cannot be described Cioran should be required reading for those liberals
in conventional ideological terms. It is manifestly to who cannot understand the revolt of their children
his credit that, unlike most intellectuals, emign~s in against their benevolent pragmatism, but neither the
particular, he does not offer his aesthetics as a surro- new radical nor the Establishmentarian will find
gate politics, nor confuse his personal experience with much comfort with him: "At any price we must
the intellectual history of our time. The East/West keep those who have too clear a conscience from liv-
conflict for Cioran is that between the beatific Buddha ing and dying in peace...."
and grimacing Saviour, not Nicolae Ceausescu and ~oreover, one should note the most oblique but
Georges Pompidou. His "letter" to a fellow intellec- crucial of the essays in this volume, "Skeptic and
tual in Rumania is worth quoting at some length in Barbarian," perhaps the distillation of Cioran's
this respect: thought with regard to culture and society, where he
says: "Civilizations . . . begin by myth and end in
Freedom in the West, in order to manifest itself,
~oubt; a theoretical doubt which, once it turns against
requires a void-and succumbs to it. The condition
which determines it is the very one which annihilates Itself become quite practical. ... For the various be-
it. This freedom lacks foundation; the more com- liefs it had engendered and which now break adrift
plete it is, the more it overhangs an abyss, for it substitutes a system of uncertainties, it organizes it~
everything threatens it, down to the principles from
which it derives. Man is so little made to endure
or deserve it, that the very benefits he receives from "Letter to a Distant Friend," TriQuarterly II (Winter 19()8),
it crush him, and freedom ultimately brings him to
22 I Introduction 2 3 I Introduction
metaphysical shipwreck . . . [it] exists in a kind of we become in the face of such passionate uncertainty.
furious stupor." The philosopher, the critic, the artist, all find it neces-
In such an age, two kinds of skeptics appear; the sary to justify their activity in the face of such subtle
first, true skeptics: those who "frequently, even in- undermining, the casual glancing blows of dubiety.
evitably, call [doubt] itself into question, [for doubt] Otherwise we are in danger of seeming mere addenda
prefers to abolish itself rather than see its perplexities to Cioran's argument, prooftext for his self-ridicule,
degenerate into articles of faith." Against these elitists, just one more word in the world. Cioran's favorite
however, there appears another sort of skeptic, the trick, after all, is to dig a disguised pit for the man of
Barbarian: "He too will know the suspension of judg- pride, literary pride in particular, and then to leap
ment and the abolition of sensations, but only within into it himself before you fall, depriving you of even
a crisis . . . leaping outside the aporias in which his the delectation of being fooled. So the victim falls, if
mind has vegetated, he shifts from inertia to exulta- not out of time precisely, at least onto Cioran. Make
tion . . . these are the traitors to skepticism . . . a no mistake about it, he loves it. It is easy to miss his
depth of barbarism which the majority, which vir- humor-that grin which from a distance is impossible
tually the totality of men have the good fortune to to read as anguish or ecstasy, that silent laugh of the
preserve." gargoyle, the jester/fiend, the jongleur.
If the "true" skeptic cannot succeed by his own
means, he will seek the help of the Barbarian, "whose Impassivity and Imposture
role is not to solve but to suppress problems, and with What can you do with a man who attacks you for his
them, the hyperacute consciousness which torments mistakes, and then insists those very errors are most
the weak man even when he has renounced all spec- worth having? What can you do with a writer who
ulative activity ... and so he will urge his enemy to writes off writing with writing, who would not give up
come and deliver him from his final agony." an instant of fear for an admirer? How to locate a
It is clear that Cioran's literary elitism becomes mind which seemingly speaks out of nowhere, and
more complex when extended to politics. Indeed, he then only against itself? To what use could we Ameri-
sees himself as a potential "traitor to skepticism"; he cans have put this delicate, perilous tongue had he
would like to side with the barbarians, and he be- chosen it, what would we have done to a man who
comes (as always, in spite of himself) their witting urges us "to throw ourselves on the ground and cry
accomplice. The "relevance" of his analogy to our every time we feel like it?" A great entertainer, per-
present situation hardly needs elaboration. . haps? A teen-age murderer? Must we end up dismiss-
It is instructive, nevertheless, to note how defensive ing him as a unique?
24 I Introduction 2 5 I Introduction
It is easy to understand why Cioran has been so berg, the only living writer I know of who has affini-
uniformly ignored-his impossibilist vocabulary, his ties with Cioran, says: "I don't think we write for
library of books which no one else has read, the cold anybody, just like we die for nobody ... every time
elegance of his aphoristic syntax, his hatred for the we compose a good line, a forest springs up in our
present which makes liberals think he is a reactionary, hearts." Cioran could only concur with an impercep-
the insistent isolato voice which makes conservatives tible nod. Neither of them can forgive a society in
think he is an anarchist, the effortless erudition which which hermeticism is the only possible honesty.
gains him the suspicion of scholars, the astringent There is really only one problem for writers, how
elitism which can only put the wider audience he de- to keep working-and one for other humans, how to
serves hopelessly on the defensive. Too tough-minded endure lucidity without bitterness. Here is an exem-
to be considered tragic, too funny to be a true ter- plar, one who has survived both the vacuity of con-
rorist, the barbarian appears on the rim of the Car- temporary life and claustrophobic dedoublage of Eu-
pathians to preside at the death of a civilization, only rope, living off his own reserve of strangulated fury,
to be "civilized" in spite of himself, a redundant ere- "perpetually irritated at the heart of inanity." He
mite, a specialist in the last gasp. remains a strangely endearing reaffirmation of con-
Given Cioran's enormous efforts to repudiate writ- sciousness, of sleeplessness, in an era of sleepwalkers:
ing as a career, the contemporary reader may tend to
underestimate what is most striking about his accom- Our contemporaries, those indiscreet, frustrated crea-
tures who by deifying confession, appetite and effort
plishment. For the most difficult task for the writer are guilty of having turned us into lyrical puppets, are
is not how to "make a living," to ignore both insult insatiable as we are exhausted? The only excuse for
and loneliness, but how to survive one's "circle," their fury is that it derives not from a fresh instinct
or a sincere impulse, but from panic in the face of
one's own supportive contemporaries. While most of
a clogged horizon. So many of our philosophers who
the intelligentsia of Cioran's Sixth Arrondissement in brood, flabbergasted, over the future are really no
the late '30's and '40's have long since repaired to more than interpreters of a humanity which, realiz-
their respective ministries of culture and/or ceased ing that the moments are escaping, struggles not to
think about it-and thinks about it continually.
writing altogether, we still receive terse messages from Their systems generally offer the image and in a
one who has stayed put, made a profession of not sense the discursive development of the obsession.
being for sale, had the strength to let his talent ma- Similarly, History could solicit their attention only at
ture at its own pace. ( Cioran was thirty-six before he a moment when man has every reason to doubt that
it still belongs to him, that he continues to be its
even decided to write in French.) As Edward Dahl- agent. Indeed, everything suggests that since History
26 I Introduction 27 I Introduction
too escapes him, man is beginning a non-historical
the vegetable, he knows we are incapable of surfeiting
career, brief, convulsive, which relegates to the ranks
of insipidity the disasters with which it was hitherto ourselves, even with pain. Western man is de-natured,
so smitten. and can only work himself back, not to his God, but
His condition: "Amid his seamless hebetude, a single
It is doubtful whether any American literary sensi- thought still agonizes [man] .... What did God do
bility can fully comprehend Cioran's strategy. We when he did nothing? How did He spend, before the
have made the void our myth, and our traditional Creation, His terrible leisure? ... I was, I am, I will
technique has been that of appropriating the world- be, me is a question of grammar and not of existence."
engorgement. Placeless autodidacts, we have congratu- Perhaps Cioran adopts the pose of a man without
lated ourselves on creating a few legends where there influence, since his own writing seems so totally with-
were none, erected an immense peopleless mythology out influences. Certainly, he can be best defined in
which we find now, rather sullenly, somewhat less terms of what he has bypassed. What other twentieth-
comprehensive than we expected. century thinker is so untouched by either Marx or
Cioran could sympathize: "Man emerges from Freud? Partially, this is due to his assault on deter-
anonymity by a series of repudiations which make minism-economic, erotic, or existential. It would be
him the great deserter of being." But his own re- clearly preferable, he would say, to deny our freedom,
sponse is to move subtly from defiance and despair that ugly knowledge that our paralysis is self-inflicted,
to relinquishment. Victim of the accumulation of or to adopt some utopian view of the past or an
legends rather than their lack, it falls to him to exe- apocalyptic future. Then we could exist by either re-
cute whatever myth remains, and so he calls for the nouncing ourselves or denouncing our enemies. But
final blow to the old world's pieties; distills, divagates the trick, in every sense, is to will "just enough to
the remains until his consciousness relapses from live," since our choice is between "impassivity and
itself- imposture," and though the finest thing about us is
our rage, direct repudiation implies a "complicity with
The self, triumphing over its functions, shrinks to
a point of consciousness projected into the infinite, certainty," and as such denies our condition.
outside of time. Reformist critiques of society, then, degenerate
into equally profane analyses, instances only of our
He knows he could have become a great mystic-a genius for turning back on ourselves-Marxism merely
connoisseur of that last frontier for Western will-for an involuted example of what capitalist societies have
then his disdain of attention could have been given done to "backward" cultures. "The civilized man ...
the texture of a tradition. But as much as he admires in order to push them there . . . will inoculate them
28 I Introduction 29 I Introduction
with the poison of anxiety and release them only with us from the beginning, and we must acknowl-
when he has observed in them the same symptoms of edge our pain and sickness since they are the very
haste as in himself." Cast by knowledge into time, it preconditions of our consciousness. There is no going
becomes doubly impossible for us to imagine a pres- back to a pre-linguistic paradise, to a supremacy over
ent; the future becomes only something to be re- time based upon some primordial stupidity, any more
membered, "the past that is to come." No system, than we can decay into a future McLuhanite garden
more than any man, is immune to the deceptions of undifferentiated consciousness, an apotheosis of
of technology, and our inhuman means of produc- silence where we can treat our wordlessness as inno-
tion are the consequence, not the cause, of our cence. And the writer's only dignity is that he should
condition. know this better than anyone, that in his banishment
As for psychoanalysis, that "sadistic therapeutics he stands for all men. Small consolation. "Our opin-
... singularly expert in the art of substituting, for our ions are tumors which destroy the integrity of our
naive discomforts, an intricate variety," why should nature and nature itself."
we expect any more from health than from history And yet if words are nets which buffer us from life,
since our will ejects us from both? If man is the they also slow our fall toward death. They make it
unhappy animal because he asks himself too many possible to reflect upon our dissent, descent, make it
questions, then of what use is that most interrogative "methodical." There can be no audience for this
of sciences? The promise of less anxiety is as dubious enterprise, inasmuch as a public will invariably con-
as that of more leisure. Our sickness, after all, is our fuse its ability to react with the artist's ability to
only common bond; suffering, the created conscious- explore, reduce such endless interrogations to "pessi-
ness of the race. If we are defined by fear, then mism." For it is we, that unknown and invisible
neither Marx or Freud can allay it, since the one public, whose existence becomes problematic in the
offers a fall back into history to "encounter oneself"; face of Cioran's uncompromising insecurity.
the other, a retreat into the self to divine history. Our
organism cannot be adapted to either, for in an "ex- The Dream, the Lie, of Diversity
plained universe, nothing would still have a meaning Cioran is clearly a self-styled straddler of the modern
but madness itself." and post-modern eras. In his rigor, his erudition, his
The problem is dictated neither by culture nor per- hatred of the dissolution of language, his formalism
sonality but by language. . . . Language, that which which constitutes its own morality, he is a legitimate
"outlives itself," is what prevents us from going be- heir to the great European modernists. But whereas
yond the boundaries of the self. This is Cioran's the modernists never doubted their capacity to con-
chant of shame. The poison of individualism has been struct imaginary edifices against a world which re-
30 I Introduction 31 I Introduction
volted them, the post-modern era is characterized by failed to reach that Archimedean point, that privi-
a revulsion against our very means and materials, a leged position outside of language "external to the
hatred of our minds coextensive with our hatred for world and to himself."
what passes for the world. Cioran stands for us, then, It is here that we must either confess with Pascal
as that rarest of thinkers-a crucial transitional figure and Rousseau that we are trapped within language
who occupies not a place so much as a synapse in the and dignify silence as the only nobility, or reassert our
devolution of Western thought. As Wilde, another faith in the very plasticity of life, in its metalinguistic
more frivolous son of Nietzsche has elaborated, some possibilities, as did Nietzsche and William James. In
critics might prefer to explain ideas, but the task is Cioran's words: "To realize oneself is to dedicate one-
really to "deepen their mystery," combat one's doubts self to the intoxication of multiplicity." This is the
and certitudes with equal energy. duality which Cioran offers, and while he explicitly
Cioran would agree with the Structuralists that argues for Rousseau's penultimate silence, his con-
language can be reduced to formal models which have duct is contradictory, and marvelously so. For in the
no universal or synthetic consequences. Further, he same gesture by which he denies himself existence,
would agree that words cut us off from our origins he affirms the power of speech, and this is the para-
and have no direct instrumental relation to the world. dox which is, even for him, finally unassimilable.
But Cioran would also insist that professional detach- It is true that we "live" in a circle of language, but
ment, literary or otherwise, is no cure for alienation. it is simply a matter of rhetoric (which is to say free
Exposing one's ignorance and limitations cannot be choice) whether we choose to describe that circle as
justified as either scientific or therapeutic. The absurd vicious or magical. To assert either at the expense of
is not the amusing theater we have made it. If we the other, Cioran would pronounce absurd, but he is
insist on converting even our terror into constructive subtle enough to know that "To produce, to create
entertainment, then we shall have truly lost every- ... is to have the courage or the luck not to perceive
thing, consigned ourselves to that "wrong eternity." the lie of diversity, the deceptive character of the
The only thing, it would seem, that Cioran does multiple ... to produce a work is to espouse all those
not comprehend, or at least has not yet bothered to incompatibilities, all those fictive oppositions so dear
articulate, is his own delight in language in spite of to restless minds. More than anyone, the writer knows
himself his obsession to become what he writes, the what he owes to these semblances, these deceptions,
' to write "in order," as Le Clezio says, "to
necessity and should be aware of becoming indifferent to them.
conquer the silence of other langt:ages." For while he If he neglects or denounces them, he cuts the ground
has perhaps succeeded in "falling out of time," he has from his own feet ... if he turns to the absolute,
32 \ Introduction
what he finds there will be, at best, a delectation in THE TREE OF LIFE
stupor. ..."
That point at which we cease thinking about lan-
guage and willfully make best use of it-"anyone who
is carried away by his reasoning forgets that he is
using reason, and this forgetting is the condition of
all creative thought ..."-that is the point at which
the critic becomes the artist, and Cioran has had both
the "courage" and the "luck" to do so.
Paralysis, perhaps, but paralysis on our own terms,
and while certainly not much comfort in words, still,
life. Still-life. The methodical fall.
may then follow him, even outstrip him in the race SKEPTIC
to disaster, in the founding of a universal and mechan-
ical amok. And it is in order to assure its advent that & BARBARIAN
he strives so desperately to level off, to standardize
the human landscape, to efface its irregularities and
banish its surprises; what he wants to establish here
is not anomalies but Anomaly, monotonous and rou-
tine anomaly converted into a rule of conduct, an
imperative. Those who avoid it he accuses of obscur-
antism or extravagance, and he will not lay down his
weapons until he has brought them into the straight
and narrow path-into his own errors. Illiterates, first
and foremost, are reluctant to fall in with him; then
he will force them to learn to read and write, so that,
ensnared in knowledge, none may escape the common
doom a moment longer. So benighted is civilized IF it is not hard to imagine all humanity in the grip
man that he does not even conceive the possibility of convulsions or, at least, of fear, it would be an over-
of choosing another confusion besides his own. Di- estimate of the race to suppose it can ever raise itself
vested of the respite necessary to the exercise of irony, as a whole to the level of doubt, generally reserved
to which a simple glimpse of his fate should lead him, for a few elite outcasts. Yet humanity accedes to
he thereby deprives himself of all recourse against doubt in part during those rare moments when it
himself. He merely becomes more deadly to others. changes gods and when men's minds, subject to con-
Aggressive and pitiable both, there is a certain pathos tradictory solicitations, no longer know which cause
about him: we understand why, seeing him inextri- to defend, which truth to adopt. When Christianity
cably distracted, we feel a certain embarrassment about burst upon Rome, the slaves appropriated it without
denouncing and attacking him, not to mention the hesitation; the patricians resisted, needing time to
fact that it is always bad taste to abuse an incurable, shift from aversion to curiosity, from curiosity to fer-
however odious he may be. But if we were deterred vor. Imagine a reader of the Pyrrhonian Hypotyposes
by bad taste, could we make the slightest judgment faced with the Gospels! What artifice could reconcile
on anything whatever? not two doctrines but two universes? How greet in-
genuous parables when one is grappling with the ulti-
1
76 I THE FALL INTO TIME 77 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
mate perplexities of the intellect? The treatises in favor or, on the contrary, banned outright, will it be
which Sextus Empiricus, early in the third century smothered by the tumult of dogmas? The important
A.D., reckoned up all the ancient world's doubts are thing, though, is not to ascertain whether it is threat-
an exhaustive compilation of the Unbreathable, the ened from without, but if we can genuinely cultivate
most dizzying pages ever written and, it must be said, it, if our powers permit us to confront without suc-
the most boring. Too subtle and too methodical to cumbing to it. For before being the problem of civili-
compete with the new superstitions, they were the zation, skepticism is an individual case, and as such
expression of a world already consummated, future- concerns us without respect to the historical expres-
less, doomed. Yet skepticism, whose theses they had sion it assumes.
codified, managed to survive a while on lost positions,
until the day when Christians and barbarians joined
forces to reduce and abolish it. *
A civilization begins by myth and ends in doubt; a In order to live, in order merely to breathe, we
theoretical doubt which, once it turns against itself, must make the extravagant effort to believe that the
becomes quite practical. No civilization can begin by world or our concepts contain a basis of truth. As
questioning values it has not yet created; once pro- soon as the effort fails, for one reason or another, we
duced, it wearies of them and weans itself away, ex- relapse into that state of pure indetermination where,
amines and weighs them with a devastating detach- since any certainty whatever seems to us a deviation,
ment. For the various beliefs it had engendered and every resolution, all that the mind advances or pro-
which now break adrift, it substitutes a system of un- claims, assumes the aspect of a divagation. Every af~
certainties, it organizes its metaphysical shipwreck- firmation appears risky or degrading, as does every
with amazing success when a Sextus is on hand to negation. It is incontestably strange no less than piti-
help. In the twilight of Antiquity skepticism possessed able to reach this point, when, for years, we have
a dignity it was not to regain in the Renaissance, applied ourselves with some success to surmounting
despite a Montaigne, nor even in the eighteenth cen- doubt, to recovering from it. But it is a disease no
tury, despite a Hume. Pascal alone, had he so desired, one is ever cured of altogether, if he has really con-
might have saved, might have rehabilitated it; but tracted it. And indeed it is a relapse that is in question
he turned away, leaving skepticism to straggle in the here.
margin of modern philosophy. Today, when we too First of all, it was a mistake to put affirmation and
are about to change gods, will there be sufficient res- negation on the same plane. To deny, granted, is to
pite for us to cultivate it? Will it find itself back in affirm in reverse. Yet there is something more in nega-
78 I THE FALL INTO TIME 79 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
tion, an additional anxiety, a determination to be son in order to acknowledge or contest its validity,
singular and, in a sense, an anti-natural element. Na- for there is no proceeding superior to reason, no pro-
ture, supposing it knew itself and could attain to for- nouncement which does not emanate from it. Yet in
mulation, would elaborate an endless series of existen- practice it seems as if, by a subterfuge or a miracle,
tial judgments. Only the mind possesses the faculty of we manage to free ourselves from its categories and
refusing what exists, of thriving on what does not; its shackles. Is the exploit so unheard of? It comes
only the mind fabricates absence. I become aware down to an extremely simple phenomenon: anyone
of myself, indeed I am only when I deny. As soon as who is carried away by his reasoning forgets that he
I affirm I become interchangeable and behave as an is using reason, and this forgetting is the condition
object. The no having presided over the partition of of all creative thought, indeed of thought itself. As
primordial Unity, an inveterate and unwholesome long as we follow the mind's spontaneous movement,
pleasure attaches to any form of negation, essential as long as, by reflection, we put ourselves on the level
or frivolous. We rack our brains to demolish reputa- of life itself, we cannot think that we are thinking;
tions, God's first of all; but it must be said to our once we do so, our ideas oppose each other, neutralize
credit that we strive even harder to destroy our own, each other within an empty consciousness. This state
by putting our truths in question and discrediting of sterility in which we neither advance nor retreat,
them, by effecting in ourselves the shift from nega- this exceptional form of marking time is precisely
tion to doubt. where doubt leads us, a state which in many respects
Whereas we always negate in the name of some- is related to the acidie of the mystics. We had ex-
thing-something external to our negation-doubt, pected to realize the definitive, to establish ourselves
without availing itself of anything which transcends in the ineffable; instead we are cast into the uncer-
it, draws on its own conflicts, on that war reason tain, devoured by the insipid. Everything frays in the
declares against itself when, exasperated beyond en- intellect's self-torsion, a kind of furious stupor. Doubt
durance, it attacks and overthrows its own founda- crashes down upon us like a calamity; far from choos-
tions in order to escape the absurdity of having to ing it, we fall into it. And try as we will to wrest our-
affirm or deny anything at all. While reason is thus selves from it, to conjure it away, doubt never loses
opposing itself, we make ourselves into judges, we sight of us, for it is not even true that doubt crashes
imagine we may examine or counter reason in the down upon us-doubt was within us, and we were
name of a self on which it has no hold or of which foredoomed to it. No one chooses the lack of choice
'
it is merely an accident, without realizing that it is nor strives to opt for the absence of option, for noth-
logically impossible for us to set ourselves above rea- ing that affects us deeply is willed. We are free to
,
i
t,
8o I THE FALL INTO TIME 81 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
invent torments for ourselves, but they are no more more than a ghost. Though he is quite prepared to
than posture, attitude; only those torments count espouse the spectral state, since he must doubt till
which emerge from us h1 spite of ourselves. Only there is no longer any matter for doubt, till everything
the inevitable counts, which proceeds from our weak- fades and crumbles, and till, identifying even vertigo
nesses and our ordeals, in short from our impossibili- with a vestige of evidence, with a simulacrum of cer-
ties. True doubt will never be deliberate; even in its tainty, he will perceive with murderous acuity the
elaborated form, it is merely the speculative disguise bankruptcy of the inanimate as of the organic, and
assumed by our intolerance for Being. Hence when singularly of our faculties which, through him, will
it seizes us and we suffer its pangs, there is nothing betray their own pretensions and inadequacies.
whose nonexistence we cannot conceive. Anyone who cherishes the equilibrium of his mind
We must posit a self-destructive principle of con- will avoid attacking certain essential superstitions.
ceptual essence if we would understand the process by This is a vital necessity for thinking, despised only by
which reason manages to undermine its foundations, the skeptic who, having nothing to preserve, respects
to devour itself. Not content to declare certainty im- neither the secrets nor the tabus indispensable to the
possible, it excludes even the notion of certainty, it duration of certitudes. Certitudes indeed! The func-
will go further still and reject any form of evidence, tion he claims is to forage in them to reveal their
for evidence originates in Being, from which reason origin and to compromise them, to identify the datum
has severed itself; and this severance engenders, de- on which they are based and which, upon inspection,
fines, and consolidates doubt. Every judgment, even turns out to be inseparable from illusion or hypothe-
a negative one, is rooted in the immediate or implies sis. Nor will he be more sp~ring of mystery, in which
a self-imposed blindness-without which reason finds he discerns only a limit which men, out of timidity
nothing manifest to hold on to. The more resistant or sloth, have assigned to their interrogations and
reason is to obscuring itself, the more it considers any their anxieties. Here, as in all things, what this anti-
one proposition as gratuitous and void as the next. fanatic pursues with intolerance is the ruin of the in-
Since the least adherence-assent in any form-seems violable.
to reason inexplicable, unheard of, supernatural, it Because negation is an aggressive, impure doubt,
will cultivate the uncertain and extend its range with an inverted dogmatism, it rarely denies itself, rarely
a zeal which includes a touch of vice and, curiously, frees itself from its frenzies. Doubt, on the other
of vitality. This delights the skeptic, for without this hand, frequently, even inevitably, calls itself in ques-
panting quest of the improbable (which betrays, after tion, prefers to abolish itself rather than see its per-
all, a certain complicity with life), he would be no plexities degenerate into articles of faith. Since all
I
I
82 I THE FALL INTO TIME 83 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
things are indeed equal, how would these perplexities tion, the self, triumphing over its functions, shrinks
merit escaping that universal equivalence which nec- to a point of consciousness projected into the infinite,
essarily renders them null and void? If the skeptic outside of time.
made an exception for them, he would condemn him- Since every form of expansion implies a thirst for
self, jeopardize his theses. Determined to remain the irrevocable, we can scarcely conceive of a con-
faithful to them, and to suffer the consequences, he queror who would suspend his judgment. Doubt does
will arrive at the abandonment of all investigation, not cross the Rubicon, doubt never crosses anything;
the discipline of abstention, the suspension of judg-. its logical conclusion is an absolute inaction-an ex-
ment. He will no longer bother to classify or to grade tremity conceivable in theory, inaccessible in fact. Of
the truths whose principle he had envisaged and so all the skeptics, only a Pyrrho has really approached
pitilessly analyzed. To which of them, moreover, it; the rest have made more or less happy stabs in its
could he accord preference, when the point, for him, direction. This is because skepticism has against it
is in fact to prefer nothing, never again to convert an our reflexes, our appetites, our ~nstincts. For all its
opinion into a conviction? As for opinions themselves, declarations that being is a prejudice, this prejudice,
he may indulge them only capriciously, only from older than ourselves, outdates man and life, resists
the need to belittle himself in his own eyes. "Why our attacks, withstands reasoning and proof, since it
this rather than that?"-he will adopt this ancient is also true that whatever exists and manifests itself
ever-corrosive refrain of the doubters, a motto which in duration is based on the undemonstrable and the
spares nothing, not even death which is too decisive, unverifiable. One must either adopt Keats's remark
too assured for his taste, stamped with "elemental- -"the truth is, there is something real in the world"
ism," a flaw it has inherited from life. Suspension of -or be exiled from action forever. However, the cer-
judgment represents the philosophical counterpart of tainty expressed here is not imperious enough to pos-
irresolution, the recipe borrowed in order to express sess dynamic virtues. In order to act effectively, one
itself by a will incapable of choosing anything but an must also believe in the reality of good and evil, in
absence which excludes every scale of values and every their distinct and autonomous existence. If we iden-
obligatory criterion. One step more and this absence tify them both with conventions, their individualizing
is joined by another: the absence of sensations. Once contours blur: no good or evil action, hence no action
the mind's activity is suspended, why not suspend that at all, so that things, like the judgments we bring to
of the senses, even that of the blood? No object, no bear upon them, cancel each other out in a bleak
obstacle or choice to evade or to confront; preserved identity. A value we know to be arbitrary ceases to
both from the servitude of perception and from ac- be a value and sinks to a fiction. With fictions there
84 I THE FALL INTO Tll\IE 85 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
is no way of instituting a morality, still less rules of sive task he imposes on himself, the task he faces in
behavior in the present; whence, in order to escape solitary, for mutual abstention, the collective suspen-
confusion, the duty incumbent upon us to restore sion of judgment, is unfeasible. If it were not, what
good and evil to their rights, to save them and save an opportunity for humanity to make an honorable
ourselves-at the price of our clearsightedness. It is end! But what has scarcely fallen to the individual
the doubter in us who keeps us from showing our lot will in no way do so to the general, the crowd
capacity, it is the doubter who, by imposing upon us being barely capable of reaching the threshold of
the burden of lucidity, overtaxes us, exhausts us, and negation.
abandons us to our disappointments, after having Since doubt turns out to be incompatible with life,
abused our capacities for questioning and for rejec- the consistent, persistent skeptic, that living dead
tion. In a sense, any doubt is disproportionate to our man, crowns his career by a defeat unparalleled
powers. To ours alone? A suffering god, as has been in any other intellectual adventure. Furious to have
seen, is normal enough; a doubting god is as wretched sought singularity and to .have delighted in doing so,
as we are. Hence, for all their merits, their exemplary he will aspire to effacement, to anonymity, and this,
legitimacy, we never consider our doubts without a 0 paradox! precisely when he no longer feels an affin-
certain dread, even when we have taken a certain ity with anything, anyone. To model himself upon
pleasure in conceiving them. The intractable skeptic, the commonplace is all he hopes for at this point
barricaded within his system, seems to us a man un- of his collapse, where he reduces wisdom to conform-
balanced by an excess of rigor, a lunatic crazed by ism and salvation to conscious illusion, to postulated
an incapacity to divagate. On the philosophic level, illusion-in other words, to the acceptance of appear-
no one more honest; but his very honesty has some- ances as such. But he forgets that appearances are a
thing monstrous about it. Nothing finds favor in his recourse only if one is sufficiently benighted to assimi-
eyes, everythi~g seems to him an approximation and late them to realities, only if one benefits from naive
an appearance-our graphs as well as our groans. His illusion, illusion unaware of itself, precisely the kind
drama is to be unable to condescend to imposture, as which is the prerogative of others and of which he
we all do when we assert or deny, when we have the alone lacks the secret. Instead of accepting the fact,
impudence to produce any opinion whatever. And be- he, the enemy of imposture in philosophy, will under-
cause he is incurably honest, he discovers a lie wher- take to cheat in life, convinced that by dint of dissim-
ever an opinion attacks indifference and triumphs ulations and frauds he will manage not to distinguish
over it. To live is equivalent to the impossibility of himself from the rest of humanity, whom he will
abstaining; to conquer this impossibility is the exces- vainly try to imitate-vainly since every act requires
86 I THE FALL INTO TIME 87 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
him to combat the thousand motives he has for not osity attains to such breadth that it borders on total
performing it. The least of his gestures will be con- relinquishment, a nothingness more denuded than
certed, the result of a tension and of a strategy, as if that on which the mystics pride themselves or lament
he had to take every moment by assault, unable to after their peregrinations across the "desert" of divin-
plunge into it naturally. Having dislocated Being, he ity. Amid his seamless hebetude, a single thought still
struggles desperately to restore it. Like Macbeth's, his agonizes him, a single question-stupid, laughable,
conscience is ravaged; he too has murdered sleep, the obsessive: "What did God do when He did nothing?
sleep in which certainties took their rest. They waken how did He spend, before the Creation, His terrible
and come to haunt him, to disturb him; and they leisure?" If he speaks to God as an equal, it is because
disturb him indeed, but since he does not stoop to they are both at the same degree of stagnation and
remorse, he contemplates the procession of his vic- futility. When his senses wither for lack of objects
tims with a discomfort assuaged by irony. What do that might solicit them, and his reason ceases to func-
these ghostly recriminations matter to him now? De- tion from the horror of passing judgment, he has
tached from his enterprises and from his crimes, he reached the point where he can address himself only
has reached deliverance, but a deliverance without to the Non-Creator, Whom he resembles, with
salvation, prelude to the integral experience of vacu- Whom he identifies himself, and Whose All, indis-
ity, which he approaches when, having doubted his cernible from Nothing, is the space where, sterile and
doubts, he ends by doubting himself, by depreciating exhausted, he fulfills himself, he rests.
and hating himself, by no longer believing in his de-
stroyer's mission. Once the last link is broken, the
one which attached him to himself, and without
which even self-destruction is impossible, he will seek Beside the rigorous or, one might say, orthodox
refuge in primordial vacancy, in the most intimate of skeptic, whose lamentable and in certain respects
origins, before that friction between seed and sub- grandiose end we have just seen, there exists another
stance which extends through the entire series of be- -heretical, capricious, who while suffering doubt
ings, from the insect to the most tormented of mam- only intermittently is capable of conceiving it to the
mals. Since neither life nor death any longer excites last and of drawing its ultimate consequences. He
his mind, he is less real than those shades to whose too will know the suspension of judgment and the
reproaches he has just been subjected. Not one sub- abolition of sensations, but only within a crisis, which
ject any longer intrigues him which he would raise he will surmount by projecting into the indetermina-
to the dignity of a problem, a scourge. His incuri- tion in which he sees himself cast a content and a
88 I THE FALL INTO TIME 89 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
frisson it seemed incapable of affording. Leaping out- Buddha's disciples, exclaims: "Nirvana is bliss!" and
side the aporias in which his mind vegetated, he when the objection is raised that there can be no
shifts from inertia to exultation, he raises himself to bliss where there are no sensations, Sariputta answers:
a hallucinated enthusiasm which would turn even "Bliss is precisely that there is no sensation."-This
the mineral itself lyrical, if there were still minerals in paradox is no longer one for the man who, despite
his world. No consistency anywhere-everything is his tribulations and his attrition, still has enough re-
transfigured, everything vanishes; he alone remains, sources to join Being on the borders of the Void, and
confronting a triumphal void. Free of the world's to vanquish, even if only for brief intervals, that appe-
shackles and of understanding's as well, he too com- tite for unreality out of which appears the irrefragable
pares himself to God, this time a God Who will be clarity of doubt, which can be opposed only by extra-
brimming, excessive, intoxicated, plunged into the rational evidence, conceived by another appetite, the
ecstasies of Creation and Whose privileges he .will appetite for what is real. Yet, taking advantage of the
adopt, stricken with a sudden omniscience, a miracu- slightest weakness, the refrain "why this rather than
lous moment when the possible, deserting the Future, that?" returns, and its insistence and its repetition
will dissolve into the moment, enlarging it, dilating cast consciousness into an accursed timelessness, into
it to the bursting point. a frozen Becoming, whereas any yes and even a no
Whereupon this skeptic sui generis fears nothing make that consciousness participate in the substance
so much as to fall back into another crisis. At least of Time, from which they emanate and· which they
it will be permissible for him to consider from outside proclaim.
the doubt over which he has momentarily triumphed,
contrary to the other kind who has hooked himself
upon it forever. Further he possesses another advan-
*
tage, that of being able to open himself to experiences Every affirmation and, with all the more reason,
of another order, to those of religious minds especi- every belief proceeds from a depth of barbarism which
ally, which utilize and exploit doubt, make it a stage, the majority, which virtually the totality of men have
a provisional but indispensable hell in order to em- the good fortune to preserve, and which only the
bark upon the absolute and take anchor there. These Skeptic-once again, the true Skeptic, the consistent
are the traitors to skepticism, whose example he one-has lost or liquidated, so that he retains only
would like to follow: insofar as he succeeds, he glimp- vague vestiges of it, too weak to influence his beha-
ses that the abolition of sensations can lead to some- vior or the conduct of his ideas. Hence, if there exist
thing besides an impasse. When Sariputta, one of isolated skeptics in each period, skepticism, as a his-
90 I THE FALL INTO TIME 91 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
torical phenomenon, is to be met with only at the feat of reason as the defeat of the organs. At this
moments when a civilization no longer has a "soul" stage, skepticism is inseparable from physiological
in the sense Plato gives the word: "what moves of infirmity. A robust organism rejects and shuns it; a
itself." In the absence of any principle of movement, debile constitution yields to it, rushes upon it. And
how could it still have a present, how especially a if that constitution should then try to free itself,
future? And just as the skeptic, at the end of his since it cannot succeed by its own means, it will seek
sapper's labor, reached a downfall like the one he had the help of the barbarian, whose role is not to solve
reserved for certitudes, so a civilization, after having but to suppress problems and, with them, the hyper-
undermined its values, collapses with them, and falls acute consciousness inherent in them which torments
into a deliquescence in which barbarism appears the the weak man even when he has renounced all specu-
only remedy, as is evidenced by the apostrophe flung lative activity. For within this consciousness is perpet-
at the Romans by Salvianus early in the fifth century: uated a morbid and irrepressible need anterior to any
"There is not one of your cities which is pure, unless theoretical perplexity, the weak man's need to multi-
it is those in which the barbarians dwell."-In this ply himself in laceration, suffering, and frustration,
case, it was perhaps less a matter of licentiousness the need to be cruel not to others but to himself.
than of perplexity. Licentiousness, even debauch- Reason, instead of serving him as a means of release,
ery, is becoming to a civilization, or at least a civiliza- becomes an instrument of self-torture: it affords him
tion adapts itself to them. Hut perplexity, once it arguments against himself, it justifies his will to fail,
spreads, terrorizes a civilization, which will turn to it flatters him, exhausts itself in making his existence
those who escape it, who are immune to it. And it is intolerable. And it is indeed in a desperate effort
then that the barbarian begins to seduce, to fascinate against himself that he urges his enemy to come and
delicate minds, minds in conflict who envy and ad- deliver him from his final agony.
mire him, sometimes openly, more often in secret, The barbarian phenomenon, which ineluctably ap-
and crave-without always admitting it to themselves pears at certain historical junctures, is perhaps an
-to become his slaves. That they also fear him is evil, but a necessary evil; further, the methods em-
undeniable; but this fear, in no way salutary, con- ployed to combat it precipitate its advent, since, in
tributes rather to their future subjection, weakens order to be effective, they must be ferocious: which is
them, paralyzes them, and drives them deeper into what a civilization is unwilling to lend itself to; should
their scruples, their impasses. For them, abdication, it be willing, it would not succeed, for lack of vigor.
their sole solution, involves less a suspension of judg- The best thing for it, once on the decline, is to grovel
ment than a suspension of will, not so much the de- before the barbarian; moreover, no civilization is re-
92 I THE FALL INTO TIME 93 I Skeptic 6 Barbarian
luctant to do this, knowing too well that the bar- more than at the beginning of the Christian era. The
barian represents-that he already incarnates-the fu- combat is unequal between the peoples who argue
ture. Once the Empire was invaded, its literary men and the peoples who keep still, all the more in that
(one thinks of an Apollinaris Sidonius, an Ennodius, the former, having eroded their vitality in cavilling,
a Cassiodorus) quite naturally became the panegyrists feel drawn to the latter's coarseness and silence. If
of the Gothic kings. The rest, the great mass of the this is true of a collectivity, what can we say of an
conquered, took refuge in administration or agricul- individual, especially of the skeptic? Indeed, we must
ture, for they had gone too soft to be permitted a not be surprised to find him, specialist in subtlety
career of arms. Converted to Christianity out of lassi- though he is, at the heart of the ultimate solitude to
tude, they were incapable of insuring its triumph by which he has corrie, turning himself into a friend and
themselves: the conquerors gave them a hand. A reli- accomplice of the hordes.
gion is nothing by itself; its fate depends on those
who adopt it. The new gods demand new men,
capable, in any circumstance, of decision, of choice,
of saying firmly yes or no, instead of floundering in
quibbles or becoming anemic by abuse of nuance.
Since the virtues of barbarians consist precisely in the
power of taking sides, of affirming or denying, they
will always be celebrated by declining periods. The
nostalgia for barbarism is the last word of a civiliza-
tion; and thereby of skepticism.
At the expiration of a cycle, what else can a disen-
chanted mind dream of but the impulse of brutes to
count on the possible, to wallow in it? Unsuited to
defend the doubts it no longer practices or to sub-
scribe to the dawning dogmas it despises, such a mind
applauds-supreme secession of the intellect-the ir-
refutable demonstrations of instinct: the Greek mind
bows before the Roman, which in its turn will bow
before the Goth, according to an inexorable rhythm,
a law which history eagerly illustrates, today even
IS THE DEVIL
A SKEPTIC?
* *
To achieve his ends, the Devil, being dogmatically A major obstacle to our equilibrium, melancholy
minded, sometimes employs the strategy of borrow- is a state of diffuse inadhesion, a passive break with
ing the procedures of skepticism; he wants to suggest being, a negation unsure of itself, unsuited, moreover,
that he adheres to nothing, he simulates doubt and to turn into affirmation or into doubt. It matches our
on occasion makes it his collaborator. Nonetheless, infirmities, it would match still better those of a
though he knows it well, the Devil never enjoys Devil who, weary of denying, would suddenly find
doubt, indeed he fears it so much that we cannot be himself out of work. No longer believing in evil, not
certain he actually wants to suggest it, to inflict it inclined to come to terms with good, he would find
upon his victims. himself-he, the most ardent of all the fallen angels!
The drama of the doubter is greater than that of -deprived of his mission, of his faith in himself,
the negator, because to live without a goal is more unable to work harm, exhausted by chaos, condemned
difficult than to live for a bad cause. Now as for without the consolations of sarcasm. If melancholy
a goal, the skeptic knows none: all being equally suggests a secularized hell, it is because it has some-
fragile or void, which is preferable? Negation on the thing in it of a wickedness on the point of abdicating,
other hand is equivalent to a program; it can occupy, blunted and meditative, reluctant to exert itself
it can even gratify the most exigent existence, not to against anything, if not against itself. Melancholy dis-
mention the fact that it is beautiful to deny, particu- passions becoming, obliges it to withdraw its frenzy,
larly when God suffers for it: negation is not vacuity, to devour itself, to subside by destroying itself.
it is plenitude, an anxious and aggressive plenitude.
If we postulate salvation in action, to negate is to *
save oneself-to escape, to pursue a plan, to play a
role. We understand why the skeptic, when he regrets Affirmation and negation being no different quali-
having followed a perilous path, envies the Devil; it tatively, the transition from one to the other is nat-
is because negation, despite the reservations it in- ural and easy. But once we have espoused doubt, it
spires, cannot help being a source of action or cer- is neither easy nor natural to return to the certitudes
98 I THE FALL INTO TIME 99 I Is the Devil a Skeptic?
they represent. \V'e then find ourselves paralyzed, he will believe in his own way, he will disavow his
prevented from militating for any cause whatever; bet- jeers and blasphemies, but as for knowing piety-he
ter still, we reject them all and, if need be, ruin them will not succeed in this at any cost: where doubt has
without descending into the arena. The skeptic, to passed there remains no place for piety. The space it
the Devil's despair, is the unusable man par excel- requires cannot be offered by the skeptic, who has
lence. He "takes" to nothing, attaches himself to ransacked everything in and around himself. Pity
nothing; the breach between him and the world this sinister meddler, pity this accursed amateur!
widens with each event and with each problem he
must face. He has been labeled a dilettante because
*
he prefers to minimize everything; in fact, he mini-
mizes nothing, he simply restores things to their If certitude were established on earth, if it sup-
place. Our pleasures like our pains come from the pressed all trace of curiosity and anxiety from men's
undue importance we attribute to our experiences. minds, nothing would be changed for the predestined
The skeptic will therefore strive to set in order not skeptic. Even when his arguments are demolished one
only his judgments, which is easy, but his sensations by one, he is not shaken from his positions. To dis-
as well, which is more difficult. Thereby he betrays lodge him, to disturb him deeply, he must be at-
his limits and his nonfulfillment (one dare not say tacked on his greed for vacillations, his thirst for
his frivolity), for only the pleasures of suffering con- perplexities: what he seeks is not truth, it is endless
vert existence into destiny. Where are we to classify insecurity, endless interrogation. Hesitation, which is
him if his place is neither among the serious minds his passion, his risk, his discount martyrdom, will
nor among the trivial? Doubtless between the two, dominate all his thoughts and all his undertakings.
in that condition of the forever anxious passerby who And though he vacillates as much by method as by
stops nowhere because no object, no being, affords necessity, he will nonetheless react like a fanatic: he
him the slightest impression of reality. What he lacks, cannot leave off his obsessions or, a fortiori, himself.
what he knows nothing of, is piety, the sole senti- Infinite doubt will make him, paradoxically, the pris-
ment capable of saving at once appearances and the oner of a closed world. Since he will not be conscious
absolute. Since piety analyzes nothing, it can mini- of this, he will persist in believing that his course
mize nothing; it perceives value everywhere, it "takes" collides with no barrier and that it is neither inflected
to things, attaches itself to them. Has the skeptic nor altered by the slightest weakness. His exasperated
experienced piety in his past? He will never recover need of uncertainty will become a disease for which
it, not if he prays night and day. He will have faith, he will seek no remedy, since no evidence, however
100 I THE FALL INTO TIME
101 I Is the Devil a Skeptic?
irresistible and definitive, will induce him to suspend likely that a destructive power determines our doing
his doubts. If the very ground gave way beneath his so. Does it not seem that the Devil, who forgets
feet he would not be alarmed, would continue, calm nothing, is revenging himself upon us for our refusal
and despairing. If the ultimate truth were known, the to cooperate in his enterprise? Furious at seeing us
answer to the riddle divulged, all difficulties solved working in our own behalf, he benights us, he ar-
and all mysteries elucidated-nothing would trouble ranges matters so that we pursue the Insoluble with
him, nothing would turn him from his path. Every- an attention to detail which blinds us to every illu-
thing which flatters his appetite for irresolution, sion and every reality alike. Hence this pursuit to
everything which helps him live and at the same time which he dooms us comes down to a methodical fall
hampers his life is sacred to him. And if Indifference into the abyss.
fills him to overflowing, if he makes it into a reality
as vast as the universe itself, it is because Indiffer-
ence is the practical equivalent of doubt, and in his *
eyes does doubt not have the prestige of the Uncon- Before Lucifer, the first to have assaulted the orig-
ditioned? inal unconsciousness, the world rested in God. Not
that there were no conflicts, but these, implying nei-
* ther rupture nor rebellion, still occurred within the
primordial unity which a new and fearful power was
To pledge allegiance, to engage oneself-that is to explode. That assault, inseparable from the fall of
everyone's great concern. And it is precisely what the the angels, remains the capital event occurring before
skeptic refuses to do. Yet he knows that once we the other fall, that of man. Once man rebelled, once
serve we are saved, since we have chosen; and every man fell, the second stage in the history of conscious-
choice is a defiance of the vague, of the curse, of in- ness had arrived, the second blow struck at God's
finity. Men need fulcrums, they want certainty at any order and work, the order and work which the skeptic
price, even at the expense of truth. Since it is restora- in his turn was to broach-the skeptic, that product
tive, and since they cannot do without it, even when of fatigue and dissolution, that limit of the mind's
they know it lies, no scruple will restrain them in advance, that belated and perhaps final version of
their efforts to obtain certainty. man. Contrary to the first two protesters, the skeptic
The pursuit of doubt on the other hand is debili- disdains rebellion and is determined not to lower
tating and unhealthy; no vital necessity, no interest himself to it; having worn out his indignations as well
directs it. If we commit ourselves to it, it is very as his ambitions, he has left behind the cycle of in-
102 I THE FALL INTO TIME 103 I Is the Devil a Skeptic?
surrections provoked by the double fall. And he ages; religious inspiration, a privilege of certain emi-
moves away from man whom he fipds old-fashioned, nently rare periods. If it requires a great deal of
as man had moved away from the Devil, his master, thoughtlessness and intoxication to engender a god,
whom he blamed for retaining vestiges of naivete and to kill him requires only a little attention. Europe has
illusion. We perceive the gradation in the experience made this minor effort since the Renaissance. It is
of solitude, and the consequences of the disjunction scarcely surprising if we have come to the point of
from primordial unity. envying those grandiose moments when one could
Lucifer's act, like Adam's-one preceding History, be present at the childbirth of the absolute.
the other inaugurating it-represent the essential mo-
ments of the battle to isolate God and to disqualify *
His universe. That universe was one of unconscious
happiness in a state of undivided possession. We After a long intimacy with doubt, you come to a
aspire to it each time we are weary of bearing the particular form of pride: you do not believe that you
burden of duality. are more gifted than others, you merely believe you
are less naive. Even if you know that so-and-so is en-
dowed with faculties or attainments beside which
* your own are inconsiderable, it makes no difference-
The great practical value of certainties must not you will take him for someone who, unsuited to the
conceal from us their theoretical fragility. They essential, has been mired in futility. Even if he has
wither, they age, while doubts retain an unalterable passed through nameless and numberless ordeals, to
freshness ... A belief is linked to a period; the argu- you he will seem nonetheless to have failed to en-
ments we oppose it by, and which make it impossible counter the unique, the capital experience which you
for us to adhere to it, defy time, so that this belief have had of beings, of things, of life. A child, children
lasts only as a result of the objections which have all, incapable of seeing what you alone have seen, you,
undermined it. It is difficult for us to imagine the for- the most disabused of mortals, without illusions as to
mation of the Greek gods, the exact process by which others and as to yourself. But you will keep one illu-
men conceived fear or veneration toward them; on sion nonetheless: the tenacious, ineradicable one of
the other hand we understand perfectly how they believing you have none. No one will be in a position
came to lose interest in those gods, and then to con- to rid you of it, for none will have in your eyes the
test their utility or their existence. Criticism is of the merit of being as disenchanted as you. Confronting
104 I THE FALL INTO TIME
l 105 I Is the Devil a Skeptic?
a universe of dupes, you will regard yourself as a soli- skeptic should renounce. Unfortunately he yields to
tary, with the consequence that you can do nothing it, and condescends to anyone who fails to do so.
for anyone, as no one can do anything for you. He who claimed to have conquered everything has
not been able to conquer pride nor the disadvantages
which proceed from it. What is the use of having
* amassed doubt upon doubt, rejection upon rejec-
The more intensely we feel our insignificance, the tion, to reach, at the end, a special genre of servi-
more we scorn others, and they even cease to exist tude and discomfort? The clearsightedness on which
for us when we are illuminated by the evidence of he plumes himself is his own enemy: it wakens him
our nothingness. We attribute reality to others only to nonbeing, it makes him conscious of it, only to
insofar as we discover it in ourselves. When it is im- weld him to it. And he can never again release him-
possible for us to deceive ourselves further on our self, he will be enslaved to it, a prisoner on the very
own account, we become incapable of that minimum threshold of his emancipation, forever lashed to un-
dose of blindness and generosity which alone might reality.
save the existence of our fellow-men. At this degree
of clearsightedness, no longer entertaining any scru-
ples in their regard, we turn them into puppets, in-
capable of raising themselves to the vision of their
own nullity. Therefore why should we bother with
what they say, and what they do?
Beyond men, the gods themselves are under attack:
they exist only insofar as we find in ourselves a prin-
ciple of existence. If this principle dries up, there is
no longer any exchange possible with them: they have
nothing to give us, we nothing to offer them. After
having frequented and gratified them so long, we draw
away, we forget them and remain, confronting them,
eternally empty-handed. They too are puppets, like
our fellow-men, like ourselves.
Contempt, which supposes a complicity with cer-
tainty, a taking up of a position in any case-this the
FAME: HOPES
AND HORRORS
!
;/
112 I THE FALL INTO TIME 113 I Fame: Hopes and Horrors
Madmen aside, there is no one who is indifferent to pens when it weakens or fades, when we suffer shame
commendation or blame; as long as we remain some- for having aspired to count in other men's eyes? To
what normal, we are sensitive to the one and the understand how we can reach this point, let us turn
other; if we become refractory to them, what else can back to those moments when a veritable neutraliza-
we look for among our fellow-men? It is incontestably tion of our instincts is brought abon t. We are still
humiliating to react as they do; on the other hand, it alive, but that scarcely matters to us any longer: a
is hard to raise oneself above all these miseries which fact of no interest; truth, lie-mere words, one worth
harass and overwhelm them. To be human is no solu- no more than the other, signifying nothing. What is,
tion, any more than ceasing to be so. what is not-how know such a thing when we have
The least venture outside the world constrains our gone past that stage where one still takes the trouble
desire to realize ourselves, to surpass and crush the to grade appearances? Our needs, our desires are paral-
others. The angel's misfortune is a consequence of lel to ourselves, and as for our dreams, it is not we
the fact that he has no need to struggle in order to who dream them now, someone else dreams them
accede to glory: he is born in it, takes his ease there, inside us. Our very fear is no longer our own. Not
glory is consubstantial with him. What can he aspire that it diminishes, rather it grows, but it ceases to
to thereafter? He lacks the very resource of inventing concern us; drawing on its own resources, it leads,
desires for himself. If to produce and to exist are liberated and lofty, an autonomous life; we merely
coincident, there is no condition more unreal, more serve it as a prop, a domicile, an address: we lodge
disheartening than his. our fear. It lives apart, develops and flourishes, and
To play at detachment, when one is not predes- makes its own connections without ever consulting
tined to it, is dangerous: thereby one loses more than us. Undeterred, we abandon it to its whims, disturb
one enriching defect, necessary to the achievement of it as little as it disturbs us, and attend-disabused
a work. To shed the Old Adam is to deprive ourselves and impassive-the spectacle it affords us.
of our own depths, it is to thrust ourselves of our own
accord into the impasse of purity. Without the con-
tribution of our past, of our mud, of our corruption-
*
recent as well as original-the spirit is out of a job. Just as we may imaginatively follow in reverse the
Woe to the man who does not sacrifice his salvation! course of the individual as he comes into life and
Since everything done that is great, important, un- thereby retrace the various species, so by following
heard of emanates from the hope of fame, what hap- the course of history in reverse we may come to its
114 I THE FALL INTO TIME 115 I Fame: Hopes and Horrors
beginnings and even proceed beyond them. This ret- by a leap backward, the moment which preceded the
rogression becomes a necessity in the man who, agitation of Becoming.
wrested from the tyranny of opinion, no longer be-
longs to any period. To aspire to consideration is de-
*
fensible, in a pinch; but when there is no one on
whom to make a good impression, why exhaust one- When one forms a high opinion of effacement and
self being someone, why even exhaust oneself being? considers with contempt the remark of the least ef-
After longing to see our name written around the faced of modern men: "All my life I have sacrificed
sun, we lapse to the other extreme and pray that it everything, peace, interest, happiness, to my destiny"
will be erased everywhere and forever. If our impa- -it is not without satisfaction that one imagines, at
tience to affirm ourselves knew no limits, our impa- the antipodes, the relentlessness of the disabused crea-
tience to efface ourselves will know none either. ture who, in order to leave no tracks, orients his
Carrying our desire for renunciation to the point of undertakings toward a single goal: the suppression of
heroism, we employ our energies in the increase of his identity, the volatilization of his ego. So vehement
our obscurity, in the destruction of every vestige of is his desire to pass unperceived that he erects Insig-
our passage, of the least memory of our breath. We nificance into a system, into a divinity, and kneels
hate anyone who attaches himself to us, counts on us, before it. No longer to exist for anyone, to live as if
or expects something from us. The only concession one had never lived, to banish the event, no longer to
we can still make to others is to disappoint them. In take advantage of any moment, any place, to be re-
any case, they could not understand our longing to leased forever! To be free is to emancipate oneself
escape the overwork of the self, to stop on the thresh- from the pursuit of a destiny, to give up belonging
old of consciousness and never walk inside, to huddle to either the chosen or the outcast; to be free is to
in the depths of primordial silence, in inarticulate practice being nothing.
beatitude, in the sweet stupor where all creation once The man who has given all he could give affords
lay, before the din of the Word. This need to hide, to a more distressing spectacle than he who, having been
give light the slip, to be last in everything, these trans- unable or unwilling to single himself out, dies with
ports of modesty in which, competing with the moles, all his gifts, real or supposed, with his capacities un-
we accuse them of ostentation, this nostalgia for the exploited and his merits unrecognized: the career he
unrealized and the unnamed-so many modalities of might have had, lending itself to variant versions,
liquidating evolution's attainments in order to regain, flatters the play of our imagination; which is to say
116 I THE FALL INTO TIME
117 I F arne: Hopes and Horrors
that he is still alive, whereas the former, frozen in at. Without the desire to be appreciated on high,
his success, fulfilled and hideous, evokes ... a corpse. without the certainty of enjoying there a certain re-
In every domain, only those intrigue us who, whether nown, there would be no such thing as prayer. The
out of incapacity or scruple, indefinitely postponed mortal who has prayed sincerely, were it but once in
the moment when they had to decide to excel. Their his life, has touched upon the supreme form of glory.
advantage over others is to have understood that we What other success will he count on henceforth?
do not realize ourselves with impunity, that we must Having reached the summit of his career, his mission
pay for every gesture which is added to the pure fact here on earth fulfilled, he can rest in peace for the
of being alive. Nature abhors the talents we have ac- remainder of his days.
quired at her expense, she abhors even those which The privilege of being known to God may appear
she has granted us and which we have cultivated insufficient to some. Thus in any case judged our
unduly, she punishes zeal, that road to perdition, and first ancestor who, weary of a passive celebrity, took
warns us that it is always to our detriment that we it into his head to impose it upon the creatures, and
seek to make ourselves illustrious. Is there anything upon the Creator Himself Whose omniscience he
more deadly than a superabundance of qualities, than envied less than His pomp, His circumstantial aspect,
a clutter of merits? Let us maintain our deficiencies His frippery. Dissatisfied with a secondary role, he
and not forget that we perish more readily by the ex- flung himself, out of spite and histrionics, into a series
cesses of a virtue than by those of a vice. of exhausting performances, into history, that enter-
prise not so much to supplant as to dazzle the divin-
ity.
*
To presume one is known by God, to seek out His *
complicity and His adulation, to scorn all suffrage but
His-what presumption and what power! Only reli- If we want to advance into self-knowledge, no one
gion can utterly satisfy our good as well as our bad can help us so much as the braggart: he behaves as
indina tions. we would do if we were not restrained by vestiges
Between a man whom no "kingdom" ignores, and of timidity and shame; he says aloud what he thinks
the disinherited creature who has only his faith, which of himself, he proclaims his merits while, lacking
of the two, in the absolute, attains a greater efful- boldness, we are doomed to murmur or to stifle ours.
gence? One cannot balance the notion God deigns Hearing him go into raptures for hours on end over
to have of us against the notion our fellow-men arrive his deeds, his doings, we shudder at the notion that
118 I THE FALL INTO TIME 119 I Fame: Hopes and Horrors
it would take only a trifle for each of us to do as ing remains for us but to flounder m torment, to
much. gorge on our own bile.
Since the boaster prefers himself to the universe
quite openly, and not in secret like the rest of us, *
he has no reason to play the part of the misunder-
stood hero, or the outcast. Since no one is willing to If the aspiration to fame assumes an increasingly
bother with what he is nor with what he is worth, breathless form, it is because fame has replaced the
he will attend to the matter himself. In the judg- belief in immortality. The disappearance of a chimera
ments he passes on himself, no restriction, no insinu- as inveterate as it was legitimate necessarily left a
ation, no nuance. He is satisfied, replete, he has confusion in men's minds, as well as an expectation
found what all pursue and what few discover. mixed with frenzy. A facsimile of everlastingness, no
How pitiable, on the other hand, the man who one can do without it, still less keep from seeking it
dares not celebrate his advantages and his talents! He everywhere, in any form of reputation, literary first
execrates anyone who does not notice them and he of all. Since death appears to each man as an absolute
execrates himself for not being able to exalt or at the term, everyone writes. Whence the idolatry of suc-
very least to exhibit them. Once the barrier of preju- cess, and consequently the subservience to the public,
dices was down, once bragging was at last tolerated that pernicious and blind power, scourge of the cen-
and even obligatory, what a deliverance for men's tury, foul version of Fatality.
minds! Psychiatry would have no further purpose if With eternity in the background, fame could have
we were permitted to divulge the immense good we a meaning; it no longer has one in a world where
thought of ourselves or if we had, at any hour of the time rules, where-to make matters worse-time itself
day, a flatterer within reach. Yet happy though the is threatened. We accept that universal fragility,
braggart is, his felicity is not flawless: he does not which so affected the Ancients, as something obvious
always find someone disposed to listen to him; and which neither startles nor pains us, and it is with a
what he may suffer when he is reduced to silence it high heart that we cling to the certitudes of a pre-
is better not to think of. carious, a worthless celebrity. Let us add further that
However full of ourselves we may be, we live in an if, in the ages when man was rare, there might have
anxious rancor, from which we can escape only if the been some interest in being Someone, the same is no
stones themselves, in an impulse of pity, decided to longer true today, now that man is devalued. On a
praise us. So long as they persist in their silence, noth- planet invaded by the flesh, whose consideration
120 I THE FALL INTO TIME 121 I Fame: Hopes and Horrors
matters still, when the idea of one's neighbor is in the deepest part of ourselves, and that all the rest
drained of all content and we cannot love humanity is a delusion. Once a man is steeped in this truth,
in detail or en masse? Merely to aspire to distinguish what can others bestow upon him which he does not
oneself from it is already a symptom of spiritual have already, and what can be taken from him which
death. The horror of fame proceeds from the horror might sadden or humiliate him? There is no emanci-
of men: interchangeable, they justify by their number pation without a victory over shame and over the fear
the aversion they inspire. The time is not far off when of shame. The conqueror of appearances, forever re-
we shall have to be in a state of grace to be able, not leased from their seductions, must make himself su-
to love them-which is impossible-but simply to perior not only to honors, but to honor itself. With-
endure the sight of them. In the days when providen- out paying the slightest attention to the scorn of his
tial plagues swept the cities clean, the individual, in fellows, he will display, among them, the pride of a
his capacity as survivor, inspired with some reason a discredited god.
certain respect: he was still a being. There are no What relief we feel when we suppose ourselves in-
more beings, there is only this swarm of dying crea- accessible to praise or blame, when we no longer care
tures stricken with longevity, all the more hateful in about cutting a good or bad figure in the eyes of
that they are so good at organizing their agony. To others! A strange relief, punctuated by moments of
them we prefer almost any animal, if only because oppression, a deliverance shadowed by a discomfort.
it is hunted down by them, despoilers and profaners Far as we may have pursued the apprenticeship to
of a landscape once ennobled by the presence of detachment, we cannot yet say where the desire for
beasts. Paradise is the absence of man. The more fame has taken us: do we still feel it or are we quite
aware of this we become, the less we forgive Adam's numb to it? Most likely we have cached it away and
act: surrounded by animals, what more could he de- it continues to torment us without our knowing it.
sire? and how could he fail to recognize the bliss of We triumph over it only at those moments of sover-
not having to confront, at every moment, that vile eign dejection when neither the living nor the dead
curse inscribed upon our faces? Serenity being con- could recognize themselves in us ... In the remainder
ceivable only with the eclipse of our race, let us of our experiences, things are less simple, for so long
meanwhile leave off martyring each other for trifles, as one desires at all, one implicitly desires fame.
let us look elsewhere-to that part of ourselves over Disenchanted as we may be, we long for it still, since
which no one has any hold. We change perspectives our appetite for it survives the disappearance of all
on things when, in a confrontation with our most the rest. He who has drunk deep of fame, has wal-
secret solitude, we discover that there is a reality only lowed in it, can never do without it, and, unless he
122 I THE FALL INTO TIME 123 I Fame: Hopes and Horrors
knows it always, will lapse into acrimony, insolence, of his adventure, man will see opening before him an
or torpor. The more emphatic our deficiencies, the era without desire.
more fame gains by contrast and engages us; the void If we are forbidden to regain our primordial inno-
within us calls to it; and when it fails to answer, we cence, at least we can conceive another one, and can
accept its ersatz: notoriety. Insofar as we aspire to try to accede to it by means of a knowledge stripped
fame, we struggle within the insoluble: we want to of perversity, purified of its flaws, transformed in its
conquer time with the means of time, to endure depths, "reclaimed." Such a metamorphosis would be
within the ephemeral, to attain to the indestructible equivalent to the conquest of a second innocence,
through history, and-supreme mockery-to be ap- which, appearing after ages of doubt and lucidity,
plauded by precisely those whom we despise. Our would have the advantage over the first one of no
misfortune is to have found, as a cure for the loss of longer being deluded by the (now exhausted) pres-
eternity, only this deception, only this lamentable ob- tige of the Serpent. The disjunction between knowl-
session, from which no one except a man implanted edge and the Fall effected, the act of knowing no
within Being could free himself. But who is capable longer flattering anyone's vanity, no demoniac plea-
of implanting himself within Being, when one is sure would still accompany the mind's necessarily ag-
human only because one can do no such thing? gressive indiscretion. We would behave as if we had
violated no mystery, and would envisage all our ex-
ploits with detachment, if not with contempt. It
*
would be a question of neither more nor less than
To believe in history is to lust for the possible, to beginning Knowledge all over again, that is, of con-
postulate the qualitative superiority of the imminent structing another history, a history released from the
over the immediate, to imagine that Becoming is rich ancient curse, and in which it would be our task to
enough in and of itself to make eternity superfluous. rediscover that divine mark we bore before the break
Once we cease believing this, no event preserves the with the rest of Creation. We cannot live with the
slightest significance. We are then interested only in sentiment of a total sin, nor with the seal of infamy
the extremities of Time, less in its beginnings than on each of our undertakings. Since it is our corrup-
in its conclusion, its consummation, in what will come tion which takes us out of ourselves, which makes us
after, when the exhaustion of the thirst for fame will effective and fruitful, the eagerness to produce gives
involve the exhaustion of all appetites, and when, free us away, accuses us. If our works bear witness against
of the impulse that drove him onward, unburdened us, is this not because they emanate from the need
124 I THE FALL INTO TIME
(
'
128 I THE FALL INTO TIME
129 I On Sickness
-whips up and encourages an element of tension and Such is the automatism of disease that it can con-
of conflict. Life is an uprising within the inorganic, a ceive of nothing outside itself. Enriched by its ini-
tragic leap out of the inert-life is matter animated tial manifestations, it then repeats itself necessarily,
and, it must be said, spoiled by pain. From so much without becoming, however, like boredom, the sym-
agitation, so much dynamism and ado, we escape only bol of invariability and sterility. We must also add
by aspiring to the repose of the inorganic, the peace that after a certain period it no longer grants the
at the heart of the elements. The will to return to sufferer anything but daily confirmation of the impos-
matter constitutes the very core of the desire to die. sibility of not suffering.
On the other hand, to be afraid of death is to fear
this return, is to flee silence and the equilibrium of
the inert, equilibrium especially. Nothing more nor- *
mal: it is a question of a vital reaction, and every- So long as we feel well, we do not exist. More ex-
thing which participates in life is, in the strict as well actlv: we do not know that we exist. The sick man
as the figurative sense, unbalanced. longs for the nothingness of health, the ignorance of
Each of us is the product of his past ailments and, being: he is exasperated to know at every moment
if he is anxious, of those to come. The vague, indeter- that he faces the entire universe, with no means of
minate disease of being human is joined by others, belonging to it, of losing himself within it. His ideal
various and specific, all of which appear in order to would be to forget everything and, relieved of his
inform us that life is a state of absolute insecurity, past to wake up one fine day naked before the future.
that it is in essence provisional, that it represents an "I can no longer undertake anything, starting from
accidental mode of existence. But if life is an acci- myself. Better to explode or dissolve than to continue
dent, the individual is the accident of an accident. like this," he tells himself. He envies, scorns, or de-
There is no cure, or rather we carry inside us all tests all other mortals, the healthy most of all. Invet-
the diseases we have been "cured of," and they never erate pain, far from purifying, brings out whatever is
leave us. Incurable or not, they are there to keep pain bad in the individual, physically and morally alike. A
from turning into a diffuse sensation: they stiffen it, rule of conduct: mistrust the sickly, fear anyone who
organize it, regulate it . . . They have been called has been bedridden. The invalid's secret desire is that
the "idees fixes" of our organs. Indeed, they suggest everyone should be sick, and the dying man longs to
organs subject to haunting, unable to escape, subject see everyone on his deathbed. What we desire in our
to oriented, foreseeable confusions, enslaved by a me- ordeals is that the others should be as unhappy as
thodical nightmare as monotonous as an obsession. we: not more, merely as much. For we must make no
130 I THE :FALL INTO TIME 131 I On Sickness
mistake: the only equality which matters to us, and lously, it is in order not to think about death; he
also the only one of which we are capable, is an conjures it away by taking care of himself. Death is
equality in hell. looked in the face only by those, and indeed they are
One can dispossess man, one can take everything rare who having understood the "disadvantages of
away from him, he will manage somehow. One thing, '
health," '
disdain to take measures to preserve or re-
however, must not be touched, for if he is deprived conquer it. They let themselves die, gently enough,
of that he will be unremittingly lost: the faculty, or contrary to the rest, who struggle and bustle and
better still the ecstasy, of complaining. If you strip suppose they are escaping death because they haven't
him of this, he will no longer take any interest or any time to succumb to it.
pleasure in his ills. He adjusts to them as long as In the equilibrium of our faculties, it is impossible
he can talk about them and display them; particularly for us to perceive other worlds; upon the slightest
as long as he can narrate them to those around him disorder, we raise ourselves to them, we feel them. It
in order to punish them for not suffering from them, is as if a crevice had appeared in reality, through
for being momentarily exempt from them. And when which we glimpse a mode of ~xistence at the anti-
he complains, what he is saying is: "Just wait a little, podes of our own. This opening, however improbable
your turn will come too, you will not escape." AU it may be objectively, we yet hesitate to reduce to a
sick men are sadists; but their sadism is acquired; that mere accident of our mind. Everything we perceive
is their only excuse. has a reality value, once the object perceived, even
if it is imaginary, is incorporated into our life. Angels,
for the man who cannot avoid thinking about them,
*
certainly exist. But when he sees them, when he ima-
To yield, amidst all our diseases, to the temptation gines that they visit him, what a revolution in his
of believing that they will have been of no use to us, being, what a crisis! A man in good health could
that without them we should be infinitely better off, never feel their presence, nor arrive at an exact notion
is to forget the double aspect of sickness: annihilation of them. To imagine them is to race to one's destruc-
and revelation; sickness cuts us off from our appear- tion; to see them, to touch them is to be destroyed.
ances and destroys them only the better to open us In certain tribes, a man suffering from convulsions is
to our ultimate reality, and sometimes to the invisible. said to have the gods. "He has the angels," we should
In another sense, one cannot deny that each invalid say of the man who is devoured by secret terrors.
is a cheat in his own way. If he broods over his infir- To be given over to angels or gods, well and good;
mities and concerns himself with them so scrupu- worse is to consider oneself, for long periods, the most
1 32 I THE FALL INTO TIME
1 33 1 On Sickness
normal man who ever lived, exempt from the flaws it is, once it suffers it takes a step toward us, it strives
which afflict the others, immune from the conse- to join us. And it is impossible, while its affliction
quences of the Fall, inaccessible to divine malediction, lasts, to deny it a degree, however minimal, of con-
a healthy man in every respect, constantly dominated sciousness.
at every moment by the impression of having strayed Consciousness is not lucidity. Lucidity, man's mo-
into a mob of maniacs and plague-victims. How re- nopoly, represents the conclusion of the severance-
cover from the obsession of absolute "normality," process between the mind and the world; it is neces-
how manage to be an ordinary man, saved or fallen? sarily consciousness of consciousness, and if we dis-
Nullity, abjection, anything rather than this baleful tinguish ourselves from the animals, it is lucidity alone
perfection! which must receive the credit or the blame.
* *
If man has been able to leave the animals behind, There is no such thing as an unreal pain: pain
it is doubtless because he was more exposed and more would exist even if the world did not. If it were
receptive to diseases than they. And if he manages proved that pain has no use, we could still find one
to maintain himself in his present state, it is because for it: that of projecting some substance into the fic-
diseases unceasingly help him to do so; they surround tions which surround us. Without pain, we should all
him more than ever and multiply, so that he should be puppets-without pain, no content in the world;
believe himself neither alone nor disinherited; they by its mere presence it transfigures anything, even a
make sure he prospers, so that he should never have concept. Everything it touches is promoted to the
the sentiment that he is not provided with tribula- rank of a memory; it leaves traces in the recollection
tions. which pleasure merely grazes: a man who has suffered
Without pain, as the author of Notes from Under- is a marked man (as we say that a debauchee is
ground saw so well, there would not be consciousness. marked, with reason, for debauchery is suffering).
And pain, which affects all the living, is the sole indi- Pain gives a coherence to our sensations and a unity
cation which permits us to suppose that consciousness to our ego, and remains, once our certitudes are abol-
is not the privilege of man. Inflict some torture upon ished, the only hope of escaping the metaphysical
an animal, consider the expression of his eyes, and shipwreck. Must we now go further still and, by con-
you will perceive a flash which projects the creature, ferring upon it an impersonal status, assert with Bud-
for an instant, above his condition. Whatever animal dhism that pain alone exists, that there is no one who
134 I THE FALL INTO TIME 135 1 On Sickness
suffers it? If pain possesses the privilege of subsisting something exists. We can counter the world's flagrant
in and of itself, and if the ego comes down to an illu- unreality only by sensations; which explains why,
sion, then we wonder who suffers and what meaning when we are convinced that nothing affords any foun-
this mechanical development to which it is reduced dation, we cling to all that offers a positive content,
can have. It seems that Buddhism discovers pain to all that makes us suffer. The man who has passed
everywhere only to belittle it all the more. But we, even through the Void will see in each painful sensation
when we admit that pain exists independently of our- a providential succor, and what he most fears is to
selves, cannot conceive of ourselves without it nor devour it, to exhaust it too quickly, and to relapse into
separate it from ourselves, from our being, of which the state of dispossession and absence from which it
it is the substance, even the cause. How conceive of had rescued him. Since he lives in a sterile laceration,
a sensation as such, without the support of the "I," he knows to satiety the disaster of tormenting himself
how imagine a suffering which is not "ours"? To suffer without torments, of suffering without pain; and
it is the substance, even the cause. How conceive of therefore he dreams of a series of precise, determined
noncoincidence with the world, for suffering is the ordeals which free him from that intolerable vague-
generator of intervals; and, when it seizes us, we no ness, from that crucifying vacancy in which nothing
longer identify ourselves with anything, not even with is profitable, in which he advances to no purpose, fol-
suffering: it is then that, doubly conscious, we keep lowing the rhythm of a long and insubstantial agony.
vigil over our vigils. The Void, infinite impasse, longs to set limits to
itself, and it is out of hunger for boundaries that it
flings itself upon the first pain to appear, upon any
* sensation likely to wrest it from the pangs of the in-
Beyond the evils we endure, which strike us down definite. This is because pain, circumscribed and hos-
and to which we adjust ourselves more or less, there tile to the vague, is always charged with a meaning,
are others which we desire as much by instinct as by even a negative one, whereas the Void is too vast to
calculation: an insistent thirst summons them, as if be able to contain any at all.
we were afraid that, ceasing to suffer, there would be
nothing to hold on to. We need a reassuring datum,
*
we wait to be given proof that we are touching some-
thing solid, that we are not divagating, wide of the The evils which overwhelm us, the involuntary
mark. Pain, any pain, fills this role, and, when we ones, are much more frequent and more real than the
have it within reach, we know with certainty that others; they are also the evils before which we are
136 I THE FALL INTO TIME 137 I On Sickness
most helpless: accept them? escape them? we do not ceed from torment to torment. The very aptitude to
know how to react, and yet it is the one thing that endure them shows that we are predestined to suffer.
matters. Pascal was right not to dwell upon diseases We love only because unconsciously we have re-
but upon the use they were to be put to. Yet it is nounced happiness. The Brahmanic adage is irrefut-
impossible to follow him when he assures us that "the able: "Each time you create a new tie, you drive an-
ills of the body are merely the punishment for and other pain, like a nail, into your heart."-Everything
the entire representation of the ills of the soul." The that fires our blood, everything that gives us the im-
assertion is so gratuitous that, to contradict it, we pression of living, of being a part of being, inevitably
need merely look around us: obviously, disease strikes turns to suffering. A passion is in and of itself a pun-
innocent and guilty alike, it even shows a visible predi- ishment. The man who surrenders to it, even if he
lection for the innocent; which is moreover to be ex- supposes himself the happiest man in the world,
pected, innocence, internal purity, almost always sup- expiates by anxiety his real or imagined happiness.
posing a weak constitution. No doubt about it, Provi- Passion attributes dimensions to what has none,
dence takes no particular pains with the delicate. makes an idol or a monster out of a shadow, being a
Causes rather than reflections of our spiritual ills, our sin against the true weight of beings, of things. Pas-
physical ills determine our vision of things and decide sion is also cruelty toward others and toward oneself,
the direction our ideas will take. Pascal's formula is for one cannot experience it without torturing, with-
true, provided we reverse it. out torturing oneself. Outside of insensibility and,
No trace of moral necessity nor of equity in the perhaps, of scorn, everything is pain, even pleasure,
distribution of health and disease. Should this annoy pleasure especially, whose function does not consist
us, must we fall into the exaggerations of a Job? It is in dispelling pain but in preparing it. Even admitting
futile to rebel against pain. On the other hand, resig- that it does not aim so high and that it merely leads
nation is no longer in fashion: does it not refuse to to disappointment, what better proof of its inadequa-
flatter, to embellish our miseries? One does not depo- cies, of its lack of intensity, its lack of existence!
eticize hell with impunity. Resignation is not only Around pleasure, indeed, there is an atmosphere of
out of date, it is even doomed: a virtue which corre- imposture we never find in the vicinity of pain; pleas-
sponds to none of our weaknesses. ure promises everything and offers nothing, it is of
the same stuff as desire. Now, unsatisfied desire is
* suffering; there is pleasure only during satisfaction;
and it is disappointment, once satisfied.
Once we commit ourselves to a passion, noble or Since it is by sensation that disaster has crept into
sordid, it is of no importance, we are certain to pro- the world, the best thing would be to annihilate our
1 38 I THE FALL INTO TIME 1 39 I On Sickness
senses, and to let ourselves fall into a divine abulia. Such complacence would have seemed an aberration
What plenitude, what expansion, when we count on to the Ancients, who admitted no pleasure higher
the disappearance of our appetites! The quietude than that of not suffering. Less reasonable, we judge
which endlessly dwells upon itself turns away from differently, after twenty centuries in which convulsion
every horizon hostile to this rumination, from all that was regarded as a sign of spiritual advancement. Ac-
might tear it from the delight of feeling nothing. customed to a racked, ruined, grimacing Savior, we
When we abhor equally pleasures and pains, when we are unsuited to enjoy the sprezzatura of the ancient
are weary of them to the point of disgust, it is not gods, or the inexhaustible smile of a Buddha plunged
of happiness, it is not of another sensation that we into a vegetable beatitude. Nirvana, come to think of
dream, but of a life in slow motion, consisting of im- it-does it not seem to have borrowed from the plants
pressions so imperceptible that they appear to be non- their essential secret? We accede to deliverance only
existent. The least emotion then becomes a symptom by taking as our model a form of being opposed to
of insanity, and once we experience one, we are our own.
alarmed by it to the point of calling for help. To love suffering is to love oneself unduly, it is to
Everything which affects us in one way or another want to lose nothing of what one is, it is to savor
being potentially suffering, are we to conclude from one's weaknesses. The more we brood over our kind,
this the superiority of the mineral over the organic? the more we enjoy dwelling on the question: "How
In that case, the sole recourse would be to reinstate has man been possible?" In the inventory of the fac-
as soon as possible the imperturbability of the ele- tors responsible for his appearance, sickness leads the
ments. Though we would still have to be able to do list. But for man not only to appear but to rise to
this. Let us not forget that for an animal which has the surface, evils from elsewhere had to be added to
always suffered, it is incomparably easier to suffer his own, consciousness being the consummation of a
than not to suffer. And if the saint's condition is more dizzying number of retarded and repressed impulses,
agreeable than the sage's, the reason for this is be- of vexations and ordeals undergone by our species, by
cause it costs less to wallow in pain than to triumph every species. And man, after having profited by this
over it by reflection or by pride. infinity of ordeals, strives to justify them, to give them
a meaning. "They will not have been futile, they have
* prepared and announced mine, more various and
more intolerable than yours," he says to all other liv-
Since we are incapable of conquering our ills, it ing beings in order to console them for not achieving
remains for us to cultivate them and to enjoy them. torments as exceptional as his.
THE OLDEST FEAR:
APROPOS OF TOLSTOY
------------~--
170 I THE FALL INTO TIME 171 I The Dangers of Wisdom
with perfidious cruelty the blow to which he will suc- the scale of whole species. How could so many have
cumb, not without having first reconsidered his birth, disappeared by the mere caprice of climate? Is it not
which he will forthwith lay under a curse. It is our likely that after millions and millions of years the
birth, in fact, that we must attend to if we want to great mammals finally wearied of wandering the
extirpate the evil at its source. To abominate our birth globe, that they reached that degree of explosive lassi-
is reasonable yet difficult and unwonted. We take a tude where instinct, competing with consciousness,
stand against death, against what must come; birth, a sides against itself? Whatever lives asserts and denies
much more irreparable event, we leave to one side, itself in frenzy. To let oneself die is a sign of weak-
pay little or no attention to it: to each man it appears ness; to annihilate oneself, of strength. Worst of all
as far in the past as the world's first moment. Only is the collapse into that condition where we cannot
a man who plans to suppress himself reaches back even imagine the desire to destroy ourselves.
that far; it seems he cannot forget the unnamable It is paradoxical and perhaps improper to prosecute
mechanism of procreation and that he tries, by a ret- Indifference, after having implored it so long for
rospective horror, to annihilate the very seed from the peace and the incuriosity of the corpse. Why
which he has sprung. draw back when at last it begins to oblige, and when
Inventive and enterprising, the rage for self-destruc- it still preserves the same prestige for us? Is it not a
tion does not confine itself to wresting only individ- betrayal to turn against the idol we have venerated
uals from torpor; it seizes upon entire nations as well most of all?
and lets them renew themselves by compelling them Certainly there is an element of happiness in any
to act in flagrant contradiction to their traditions. A reversal; any about-face affords an increase in vigor:
nation which seemed to be proceeding toward sclero- denial rejuvenates. Our strength being measured by
sis was actually heading for catastrophe, and helped the sum of beliefs we have abjured, each of us should
itself to do so by means of the very mission it had end his career as a deserter from every cause. If, de-
undertaken. To doubt the necessity of disaster is to spite the enthusiasm with which it has inspired us,
resign oneself to consternation, is to make it impos- Indifference ends by alarming us, by seeming intoler-
sible for oneself to understand the vogue fatality as- able, this is precisely because by suspending the course
sumes at certain moments. The key to all that is of our desertions it attacks the very principle of our
inexplicable in history may well be found in such rage being and prevents its expansion. Perhaps it has a
against oneself, in the terror of satiety and repetition, negative essence we failed to guard against in time.
in the fact that man will always prefer the unheard By adopting it without reservation, we could not avoid
of to routine. The phenomenon is also conceivable on those pangs of radical incuriosity, an abyss into which
I
I
I.
l
1
172 I THE FALL INTO TIME
*
I accumulate the past, constantly making out of it
174 I THE FALL INTO TIME 175 I The Fall Out of Time
and casting into it the present, without giVmg it a move, they're frozen stiff. No moment can creep into
chance to exhaust its own duration. To live is to my veins. A polar blood-for centuries!
suffer the sorcery of the possible; but when I see in Everything that breathes, everything that has the
the possible itself the past that is to come, then every- color of being, vanishes into the immemorial. Did I
thing turns into potential bygones, and there is no really once taste the sap of things? What was its
longer any present, any future. \Vhat I discern in flavor? It is inaccessible to me now-and insipid. Sati-
each moment is its exhaustion, its death-rattle, and ety by default.
not the transition to the next moment. I generate
dead time, wallowing in the asphyxia of becoming.
*
If I don't feel time, if I am incomparably remote
*
from it, at least I know it, I constantly observe it:
Other people fall into time; I have fallen out of it. time occupies the center of my consciousness. Can I
The eternity that set itself above time gives way to believe that even its Author ever weighed and pon-
that other eternity which lies beneath, a sterile zone dered it as much? God, if it is true that God created
where I can desire only one thing: to reinstate time, to time, could not know it in depth, since He is not in
get back into it at any price, to appropriate a piece of the habit of making it the object of His ruminations.
it, to give myself the illusion of a place of my own. But if I'm sure of anything, it's that I was evicted
But time is sealed off, time is out of reach; and it is from time only to turn it into the substance of my
the impossibility of penetrating it which constitutes obsessions. In fact I identify myself with the nostalgia
this negative eternity, this wrong eternity. it inspires in me.
Granted I once did live in time, what was it, how
* did I represent its nature? The period when it was
familiar is alien to me, has deserted my memory, no
Time has withdrawn from my blood; they used to longer belongs to my life. I suspect it would be easier
sustain each other, they flowed together; now that to gain a foothold in the true eternity than to rees-
they are each paralyzed, is it surprising that nothing tablish myself in time. Pity the man who was once
becomes? Only they, if they started up again, could in Time and can never be there again!
restore me to the living and relieve me of this sub- (Nameless downfall: how could I have grown infat-
eternity I stagnate in. But they won't-or can't. A uated with time when I have always conceived my
spell must have been cast on them: they no longer salvation outside it, just as I have always lived with
176 I THE FALL INTO TIME 177 I The Fall Out of Time
the certainty that time was about to exhaust its last I've isolated it from the world, made it into a reality
reserves and that, corroded from within, corrupt in independent of any other, a solitary universe, a surro-
its essence, time lacked duration?) gate absolute: strange process which severs it from all
it implies and involves, metamorphosis of the super-
numerary into the protagonist, unwarranted and inev-
* itable promotion. That time has succeeded in benight-
Sitting on the brink of time, watching the moments ing me I should be the last to deny. Yet the fact re-
go by, we end up no longer able to see anything but mains that it has not foreseen that I should one day
a succession without content, time that has lost its shift, in its regard, from obsession to lucidity, with all
substance, abstract time, version of our Void. From this implies of a threat to time.
abstraction to abstraction, time shrinks because of us, Time is so constituted that it does not resist the
dissolving into temporality, the shadow of itself. Now mind's insistence on fathoming it. Its density disap-
it is up to us to revive it, to adopt toward time a clear- pears, its warp frays, and all that is left are a few
cut attitude, without ambiguity. Yet how can we, shreds with which the analyst must be satisfied. This
when time inspires such irreconcilable feelings, a is because time is not made to be known, but lived;
paroxysm of repulsion and fascination? to examine, to explore time is to debase it, to trans-
Time's equivocal ways turn up in everyone who form it into an object. He who does so will ultimately
makes it his chief concern and who, ignoring its posi- treat himself the same way. Since every form of analy-
tive content, concentrates on its dubious side, on the sis is a profanation, indulgence in it is indecent. As we
confusion it produces between being and nonbeing, descend into our secrets in order to stir them up, we
on its impudence and its versatility, on its louche ap- proceed from embarrassment to queasiness, and from
pearances, its double-dealing, its fundamental insin- queasiness to horror. Self-knowledge always costs too
cerity. A deceiver on a metaphysical level. The more much. As does knowledge itself. Once we have
we examine time, the more we identify it with a reached the bottom, we won't bother to live any
character we suspect and would like to unmask. And more. In an explained universe, nothing would still
whose power and fascination we finally surrender to. have a meaning, except madness itself. A thing we
From here to idolatry and bondage is only a step. have encompassed no longer counts. In the same way,
once we have penetrated someone, the best thing he
can do is disappear. It is less in self-defense than out
*
of modesty-a desire to conceal their unreality-that
I've desired time too much not to falsify its nature, the living all wear masks. To tear them off is to de-
178 I THE FALL INTO TIME 179 I The Fall Out of Time
stroy their wearers and oneself. No doubt about it, it to become the Devil's, everything goes bad, everything
is a bad practice to linger under the Tree of Knowl- becomes an autopsy of the intolerable, everything col-
edge. lapses into that abyss where one hopes in vain for the
There is something sacred in every being unaware denouement, where one rots in immortality. He who
it exists, in every form of life exempt from conscious- falls into it turns round and round, struggles to no
ness. He who has never envied the vegetable has avail, and produces nothing. Thus every form of steril-
missed the human drama. ity and impotence participates in hell.
* *
Time takes its revenge for my slanders by making We cannot believe we are free when we are always
me into a favor-seeker, forcing me to regret time. How with ourselves, facing ourselves, the same. At once
could I have identified it with hell? Hell is this mo- fatality and obsession, this identity chains us to our
tionless present, this tension in monotony, this in- flaws, drags us backward and casts us outside the new,
verted eternity which issues nowhere, not even into outside time. And when we are cast out, we remember
death, whereas time, that used to flow, to flow by, of- the future, we no longer run toward it.
fered at least the comfort of an expectation, even if it Sure though we may be of not being free, there are
was a mortal one. But what is there to expect down certitudes we have difficulty resigning ourselves to.
here, at the end of the fall, where there is no possi- How can we act if we know we are determined? How
bility of falling farther, where even the hope of an- can automatons desire? Fortunately there is a margin
other abyss fails? And what else is there to expect from of indeterminacy in our actions-and in them alone:
these evils that lie in wait for us, constantly calling I can postpone doing this or that; on the other hand
attention to themselves, that seem to be the only it is impossible for me to be different from what I
things which exist, that are, in fact, the only things am. If, on the surface, I have a certain latitude of
which do? If we can start all over again from rage, maneuver, in depth everything is arrested forever.
which represents a throb of life, a possibility of light, Only the mirage of freedom is real-without it, life
the same is not true of this sub-temporal desolation, would scarcely be practicable, or even conceivable.
annihilation by degrees, burial in blind repetition, de- What incites us to believe we are free is our concious-
moralizing and opaque, from which indeed we can ness of necessity in general and of our shackles in par-
emerge only by means of rage. ticular; consciousness implies distance, and all distance
When the eternal present stops being God's time provokes in us a feeling of autonomy and superiority,
180 I THE FALL INTO TIME 181 I The Fall Out of Time
which, it goes without saying, has only a subjective But now he is threatened by another fall, whose
value. How does the consciousness of death alleviate scope is still difficult to determine. Now it will no
the idea of death or postpone its arrival? To know we longer be a matter of falling out of eternity, but out
are mortal is really to die twice over-no, is to die of time; and, to fall out of time is to fall out of his-
each time we know we must die. tory; once Becoming is suspended, we sink into the
The good thing about freedom is that we are at- inert, into the absolute of stagnation where the Word
tached to it precisely insofar as it seems impossible. itself bogs down, unable to rise to blasphemy or
Still better, we can deny it, and this negation has prayer. Imminent or not, this fall is possible, even
constituted the great resource and the basis of more inevitable. Once it is man's fate, he will cease to be
than one religion, more than one civilization. We can- a historical animal. And then, having lost even the
not praise Antiquity enough for believing that our memory of the true eternity, of his first happiness, he
destinies were written in the stars, that there was no will turn his eyes elsewhere, toward the temporal
trace of improvisation or chance in our joys, in our universe, toward that second paradise from which he
miseries. Unable to oppose so noble a "superstition" has been expelled.
by anything more than the "laws of heredity," our
science has disqualified itself forever. Once we each
had our "star"; now we find ourselves slaves of an *
odious chemistry. This is the ultimate degradation of As long as we remain inside time, we have our own
the notion of destiny. kind with whom we may compete; once we cease to
be there, all that others do and all they may think of
* us no longer matters, for we are so detached from
them and from ourselves that to produce a work or
It is not at all unlikely that an individual crisis will even to think of doing so seems futile or preposterous.
someday become generalized and thereby acquire a Insensibility to his own fate is the quality of some-
significance no longer psychological but historical. one who has fallen out of time, and who, as this fall
This is not a matter of mere hypothesis; there are grows more evident, becomes incapable of manifest-
signs we must get used to interpreting. ing himself or even of wanting to leave some trace of
After having botched the true eternity, man has his existence. Time, we must admit, constitutes our
fallen into time, where he has managed if not to vital element; once dispossessed of it, we sink, without
flourish at least to live; in any case he has adjusted support, into unreality or into hell. Or into both at
himself to it. The process of this fall and this adjust- once, into ennui, that unslaked nostalgia for time,
ment is called History. that impossibility of recapturing it and reinstating our-
182 I THE FALL INTO TIME 183 I The Fall Out of Time
selves within it, that frustration of seeing time flow self, in either case he loses his way. And we must add
by up there, above our miseries. To have lost both eter- that he cannot avoid this loss without short-changing
nity and time! Ennui is the rumination upon this his destiny.
double loss. In other words, our normal state, hu-
manity's official mode of feeling, once it has been
*
ejected from history.
To will means to keep oneself in a state of exasper-
ation and fever at any cost. The effort is exhausting,
*
nor does it appear that man can sustain it indefinitely.
Man defies and denies the gods, though still ac- To believe it is his responsibility to transcend his
knowledging their quality as ghosts; once cast out condition and tend toward that of the superman is to
from time, he will be so far from them that he will forget that he has trouble enough sustaining himself
no longer even retain the idea of gods. And it is as a as man, and that he succeeds only by straining his
punishment for forgetting them that he will then ex- will, that mainspring, to the maximum. And the will,
perience his complete downfall. which contains a suspect and even disastrous prin-
A man who seeks to be more than he is will not fail ciple, turns against those who abuse it. To will is not
to be less. The disequilibrium of tension will sooner natural-or more exactly, one must will just enough
or later yield to that of slackness and abandonment. to live; as soon as one wills less than that, or more,
Once we have posited this symmetry, we must take one either breaks down or runs down. If lack of will
the next step and acknowledge that there is a certain is a disease, the will itself is another, and a much
mystery in downfall. For example, the fallen man has worse one, for it is from the will and its excesses
nothing to do with the failure; rather he suggests the rather than from its failures that all man's miseries
notion of someone supernaturally stricken, as if some derive. But if he already wills to excess in his present
baleful power had beset him and taken possession of state, what will become of him once he accedes to
his faculties. the rank of superman? He will doubtless explode and
The spectacle of downfall prevails over that of fall back upon himself. So that it is by a grandiose
death: all beings die; only man has the vocation to detour that he will then be led to fall out of time in
fall. He is on a precipice overhanging life (as life, in- order to enter the infra-eternity, ineluctable conclu-
deed, overhangs matter). The farther from life he sion where it matters little, ultimately, whether he
moves, whether up or down, the closer he comes to arrives by decay or by disaster.
his ruin. Whether he transfigures or disfigures him-
r
1
A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR