The Antinomy Of Being Karsten Harries Dermot Moran

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The Antinomy Of Being Karsten Harries Dermot Moran
The Antinomy Of Being Karsten Harries Dermot Moran
The Antinomy Of Being Karsten Harries Dermot Moran


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Karsten Harries
The Antinomy of Being

The Antinomy
of Being
Karsten Harries

ISBN 978-3-11-062587-5
e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-062932-3
e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-062591-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019939354
Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek
The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie;
detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.
© 2019 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston
Cover image: Die wandernde Frau von Kaliningrad (mit drei Bildern) – Drew Walker (2018)
Typesetting: 3w+p GmbH, Rimpar
Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck
www.degruyter.com

ForMyStudents

Foreword
Itis an honor andaprivilegetowrite these prefatory wordstoKarsten Harries’s
TheAntinomyofBeing.Harries is an expert in the philosophyofart and aesthet-
ics, on the philosophyofarchitecture, on the work of Martin Heidegger,and also
on the emergence of modernity (followingon from the great historians of ideas,
Ernst Cassirer,AlexandreKoyré and Hans Blumenberg). Harries has been ex-
tremelyinfluential inAmerican philosophybut is perhaps not as well known in-
ternationallyasheshould be, althoughmanyof his books havebeen translated
into languages such asJapanese, Chinese,Korean and German. The welcome
publication of his latest book,TheAntinomyofBeing,basedonhis graduate
seminars, givesthe readeravery vibrant sense of what it is like to participate
in one of Harries’renowned seminars givenatYale, givingadirect experience
of his unique style of questioning and interrogatingaclassicaltext for its still
living significanceandrelevance.
Karsten Harries was HowardH.Newman Professor ofPhilosophyatYale
Universityuntil his retirement in2017.Hewas born inJena,Germany,in1937,
and, asaseven-year-old boy inBerlin,witnessed at first hand the catastrophic
end of the SecondWorldWar.His father–aphysicist–emigrated with the family
to theUSA, whereKarstenstudied atYale University with such leading figures as
Charles Hendel andWilfrid Sellars,receiving his B.A. in 1958. He remained on at
Yale University asagraduatestudent,receiving hisPh.D in 1962,withadisser-
tation entitledInaStrange Land: An Exploration of Nihilism,directed by George
A. Schrader,aleadingKant scholarand one of the founders of the Society for
Phenomenologyand ExistentialPhilosophy(SPEP).¹Upon completion of his
doctorate,Harries was appointed Assistant Professor ofPhilosophyat the Uni-
versityofTexas atAustin (1963–1965), but hereturnedtoYale in 1966 as Asso-
ciate Professor and remained there for the rest of his teachingcareer.Harries was
promoted to full Professor ofPhilosophyatYale in 1970.Hethen held the Brooks
andSuzanne Ragen Professor of Philosophyand, most recently,untilretirement,
the HowardH.Newman Professor ofPhilosophy.Karsten Harries has heldmany
visiting professorships,includingthe University ofBonn (1965–1966;1968–1969)
andaGuggenheim fellowship (1971–1972). His publications includeTheMeaning
of Modern Art(1967);TheBavarian Rococo Church:BetweenFaithandAestheti-
This dissertation (Yale 1962)was microfilmed by University Microfilms,Ann Arbor,Michigan
in 1967(no.67–9640) and can be found online at https://cpb-us-w2.wpmucdn.com/campus
press.yale.edu/dist/8/1250/files/2011/10/in-a-strange-land_an-exploration-of-nihilism-1zusd5v.
pdf.
https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110629323-001

cism(1983);TheBroken Frame(1989);TheEthical Function of Architecture(1996);
Infinity and Perspective(2001);Art Matters.ACriticalCommentaryonHeidegger’s
“Origin of theWorkof Art” (2009), andWahrheit:Die Architektur derWelt(2012).
With ChristophJamme, he editedMartin Heidegger:Kunst, Politik,Technik(1992),
publishedinEnglish asMartin Heidegger: Politics,Art, andTechnology(1994).
AnativeGerman speaker,Prof. Harries is particularlyknown as an original
interpreter of the work of Martin Heidegger,especiallyhis laterwritingsonart,
poetry,language, andtechnology.Indeed, Harries was one of the select few in-
vited by the publisherVittorio Klostermanntocontribute to Heidegger’s80
th
birthdayFestschrift.²Professor Harries was also one of the first philosophers
in theUSAtochallengeMartin Heidegger’sintellectualrelationship with Nation-
al Socialism, something that becameamatterofcontroversy in the 1970s.³He
translated and commented criticallyonHeidegger’snotorious RectoralAddress
(Rektoratsrede)of1933,whereHeideggeralignedFreiburguniversity with the Na-
tional Socialist cause.⁴Harries was also one of the first to comparecriticallyHei-
degger’sandWittgenstein’sconceptions of languageasproviding the canopyof
our world,⁵something later taken up by RichardRorty.Inopposition toWittgen-
stein, Harries shows that Heideggerisaproponent of the inadequacy of everyday
languageand of the necessity for poetry to keep upaspace for meaning. But
Harries has always been inspiredbyWittgenstein’sconcern that philosophyas-
sist us in finding our rightfulplace in the world.
Harries’firstmonograph,TheMeaning of Modern Art(Northwestern, 1968)⁶
grappled with the question of nihilism. Nihilism is the view that the entire world
has no sense, our existencehas no point.Itisessentiallyfutile. Harries points
out that nihilismisfirst named as such byJacobi, and, for him, it arose from
acertain direction inKant and wasmarked by an“intoxication with self”as
the poetJean Paul Richter put it.Interestingly,Harries sees nihilismasemerging
fromarelentlessrationalism–from the philosophyofSpinoza, for instance.A
philosophythatattemptstobring everything underreason ends up inabsurdity.
Karsten Harries,“Das befreite Nichts,”inDurchblicke:MartinHeidegger zum 80.Geburtstag,
ed.Vittorio Klostermann (Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann, 1970), pp. 39–62.
Karsten Harries,“HeideggerasaPolitical Thinker,” The Review ofMetaphysics,vol. 29,no. 4
(1976), pp. 644–669.
Karsten Harries,Translation with Notes and Introduction of Martin Heidegger,The Self-Asser-
tion of the German University and The Rectorate1933/34:Facts and Thoughts,TheReview ofMet-
aphysics,(March 1985), pp. 467–502.
Karsten Harries,“Wittgenstein and Heidegger: The Relationship of the PhilosophertoLan-
guage,”TheJournal ofValue Inquiry,vol.2,no.4(1968), pp.281–291.
Karsten Harries,TheMeaning ofModern Art:APhilosophical Interpretation(Evanston: North-
western University Press,1968).
VIII Foreword

Harriesreturned to the themeofnihilisminhis essay,Between Nihilism and
Faith:ACommentaryonKierkegaard’sEither/Or(2010).⁷Since hisvery first
book,TheMeaning of Modern Art,Harries has been particularlyinterestedinHei-
degger’sreflections on the meaning and status of art in modern times and espe-
ciallyinthe current agedominated bytechnology.His central question is: does
art still speak to us today?Or,has art,asHegel put it,lost its highest function?
Are we trulyinanageof nihilism?Isitamedium for truth ormerelyfor pleasure
or distraction?If art still functionsmeaningfullyfor us as more than mere dis-
traction or ornamentation—how does it do so?
Since the 1980s, Harries has been one of the leadingfigures in the emerging
discipline of the philosophyofarchitecture. Harries has always been deeplyin-
terested in therelation between the sacred and profane, between thereligious
and the secular world view,the tension between mortals andgods, to invoke
theterms of Heidegger’s“fourfold”.For thousands ofyears since the Greeks,
Western culture has livedinasacred space but now,asHölderlin put it,the
gods havefled. Nietzsche exclaimed that no newgodhad appearedinthe last
two thousandyears. Our culture–especiallywith the dominance of scientific
knowledgeand technology–seems resolutelysecular.Doesthis secular culture
still leaveroom forarelationship with the transcendent–with whatKant called
“the starry heavens aboveme”?Harries addresses these issues in his collection
of essays,TheBrokenFrame.⁸Heidegger’sreflections on the Greek temple in his
magisterial essays“The Origin of theWork of Art”,and“Building, Dwelling,
Thinking”,onthe natureof“dwelling” (Wohnen)h aveinspired Harries’own ex-
cursus into the philosophyofarchitecture. His second book,TheBavarian Roco-
co Church,published in 1983(and, more recently,in2009 published in German
asDie Bayerische Rokokokirche.Das Irrationaleund das Sakrale),⁹quicklyled to
Harries being recognized asaleading expert on German regional Church archi-
tecture, specificallyinthe ageofRococo. Here his question was–what separates
the ageofBaroque and Rococo, an ageoffaith from the ageofEnlightenment,
with its obsessivecommitment torationalism?Heisnow recognized as one of
the world’sforemost theorists of contemporary architectural theory,especially
since the publication of his ground-breakingthird monograph,TheEthical Func-
Karsten Harries,Between Nihilism andFaith:ACommentaryonEither/Or(Berlin and New
York: DeGruyter,2010).
Karsten Harries,TheBroken Frame.ThreeLectures(Washington:Catholic University Press,
1989).
Karsten Harries,TheBavarian Rococo Church:BetweenFaith andAestheticism(New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1983). The reworkedand expanded German edition isKarsten Harries,
Die Bayerische Rokokokirche. Das Irrationale und das Sakrale(Dorfen:Hawel,2009).
Foreword IX

tion of Architecture,in1997.¹⁰ForHarries, the central and profound question is:
what separatesarchitecture frommere building?ForHarries, as for Heidegger,
architecture is opposed to ornamental representation. Professor Harries has
close intellectual collaborations with internationallyrenowned architects includ-
ingKevin Roche. In2007,the School of Architecture ofYale University recog-
nized Harries’work in this area byawardinghim the degree of MasterofEnviron-
mental Design. He hasadedicatedFestschriftin his honor,Himmel und Erde:
FestschriftfürKarsten Harries,“Heavenand Earth:FestschrifttoHonorKarsten
Harries,”aspecial issue ofInternationalJournal of ArchitecturalTheoryin
2007.¹¹In2013 he wasawarded an honoraryDoctorateof Literature byUniversity
CollegeDublin.
Harries’fourth monograph,Infinity and Perspective,¹²isasustained reflec-
tion on the limits of human existenceinthe modern world throughan explora-
tion of the tension between finitude and infinity,immanence and transcendence.
Itis inspired by the earlymodern philosopher and theologian Nicholas ofCusa’s
meditations on the unspeakable transcendenceofthe infinitedeity which is nev-
erthelessreflected and refracted in the various perspectivesone can takeon the
deity,just as there are infiniteradiiinacircle.ForHarries, one could just as well
mark the emergence of modernity with the work of Nicholas ofCusa (or Renais-
sance scholarofart and perspective,Alberti) instead of the morecustomary fig-
ure of René Descartes.¹³
Karsten Harries lectured for manydecades atYale University–54years in
total. He has the distinctionofdirectingthe most doctoral students in Philoso-
phyintheUSA–agrand total of63dissertations(the presentauthor’sinclud-
ed!). OnApril28th and Saturday,April 29th,2017,thePhilosophyDepartment
ofYale University heldatwo-dayseminar,TruthandBeauty:AConference in
Honor ofKarsten Harries,attendedbyhis colleagues and by manyofhis former
students.Besides beingarenownedphilosopher and expert in architectural
Karsten Harries,TheEthical Function of Architecture(Cambridge,Mass.:MITPress, 1997). The
Chinese translationappeared in2001 (Beijing: HuaXia PublishingHouse,2001).
See Special issue,“Heaven and Earth:FestschrifttoHonorKarsten Harries,”International
Journal of Architectural Theory12 no.1(August2007).
Karsten Harries,Infinity and Perspective(Cambridge,Mass.:MITPress,2001).Susan E.
Schreiner,AreYouAlone Wise?TheSearch for Certainty in theModern Era(Oxford: OUP,2011)
is appreciativeof Harries’analysisofthe discovery of perspectivein earlymodernity for its im-
pact on the theological understandingofinfinity and the finitude of the human placeinthe
world.
Karsten, Harries,“Problems of the Infinite:Cusanus and Descartes,”American Catholic Phil-
osophical Quarterly(Winter1989), pp. 89–110.
X Foreword

theory,heisanaccomplished artist workingwith pastels and oil paintingsand
recentlyhad an exhibition of his work at theYale WhitneyHumanities Center.
ForKarsten, art is the concrete complementtothe abstractness of philosophy.
Karsten Harries’lectures and seminarshaveenthralled and challengedgen-
erations of students atYale.Hislecturesand seminars havebeen appreciared by
his studentsasmodels of the rigorous interrogation of classicaltexts for their en-
duringrelevance. Harries regards philosophyasanessentiallyethical reflection
–it demands that all forms of knowledge,including contemporary scientific
knowledge,giveanaccount of their own meaningfulness. Whatisthe human
place in this amazing non-human world?Kant and Heideggerasked this pro-
found question in theirown unique ways.
The current book is one such lecture course. InTheAntinomyofBeingHar-
ries meditates on the central problematic ofKant but through the lens of Martin
Heidegger.The central dilemma or antinomyofthe human condition is that hu-
mans haveasense ofatranscendencethat they can never articulate coherently;
they are somehowintouch with reality as it is in itself, while at the same time
theydwell inaworld of appearances. The objectiveworld is what is experienced
by us, but we are condemned to experience it in our conditioned human way.
Yet,as soon as we cometothe realization thatwhat we experience is precisely
the world as constituted by our embodied and embedded human existence, then
somehow we havealreadytranscended this limitation and grasp the waythings
reallyare.Toseeaperspectiveand to be able to identify itasaperspectiveis al-
readytooccupy an a-perspectival stance oratranscendent position abovethat
perspectiveitself.¹⁴Or,asKant and Hegel knew,toidentifyalimit is already
to havetransgressed thatlimit.Our experience of livingalife, then, already
puts us in touch withatranscendencethat is at thevery ground of our being.
This is the nub ofKarsten Harries’argument.Thevery recognition of the antin-
omyofbeing,ofthe ambiguity of our human knowledgethat straddles finitude
and transcendence, puts in question thevery idea of an entirelyobjectivebodyof
scientificknowledge.Harries claims we can experienceagenuine‘window’
which invites us to leaveour own limited view behindwhen we trulyencounter
another person asaperson, asaunique sourceofvalue.
Kant,ofcourse, isresponsible for the theme of antinomy.But Harriesclaims
that the notion of antinomy–this time under the name“the ontological differ-
ence”alsopermeates the work of Martin Heidegger.Thevery title of Heidegger’s
SeeKarsten Harries,“On the Power and Poverty of Perspective:Cusanus and Alberti,”Cusa-
nus: The Legacy of Learned Ignorance,ed. Peter Casarella (Washington, DC: Catholic University
of America Press,2006), pp. 105–126.
Foreword XI

main work,Being andTime,calls attention to the fact that being has always been
in an inextricablerelation with time and temporality.Despitethe efforts of Plato
and others to posit the idea of an eternal, timelessrealm of true being,human
existenceisintrinsicallytemporal, historical, conditioned, limited, finite, frag-
mentary and fragile.From the outset of his philosophical reflections,Harries
has grappled with the idea thathumans seek to imposemeaningontheir exis-
tential situation and to exert control over their lives, and at the same time livein
conditions theydonot control and can never surmount.Heideggerhimself is
struggling with this issue in relation to the disclosure ofBeing.Onthe one
hand,Being is disclosed and in and through human Dasein, as Heideggeraf-
firms; and, even in theLetter of Humanism,Heideggerstates thatBeing is
onlyaslong as Dasein is. On the other hand,Being’struth and meaning cannot
be solelydependent on human Dasein; andBeing,asthe condition of all beings,
is otherthan those beings. In short,Being transcends beings; it is the‘there’(Da)
of beings; but,assuch, it also transcends language, even though, as Heidegger
maintains,languageexpresses the intelligibility both of the world and ofDa-
sein’sbeing-in-the-world.Beings, moreover,are independent ofDasein.There
werebeingsinthe world beforeDaseinexisted.
Harries sees Heideggerasrecognizing the same challengeasWittgenstein–
how do we escape the languagewhich forms our world?How do weavoid being
imprisonedinlanguage?Wittgenstein in theTractatusrecognizedthe limits of
both logic and language.ForWittgenstein, the sense of the world has to lie out-
side the world, in transcendence. Language, for Heidegger,is the houseofBeing,
but it can alsobethe prison-house of human being.Harries explores this archi-
tectural metaphor–languageashome,ashouse, but alsolanguageasthecon-
ceptual frame, evenaprison.
Harries’meditation on the antinomyofbeing and of languageisrich and
many-sided and also fascinating and compelling.Harries forces us to rethink
our intuitions about contemporary scientific culture, with its commitment tora-
tionalism and explanatory closure. He is showing thatthe drivefor metaphysics
and for scientific objectivity,foracompletetheory of everything always exposes
the antinomythatthere is another sidetothisrationality,an unarticulable tran-
scendent ground.Philosophers sinceKant havegrappled with these antinomies.
But thetension hasadeeper sourceinmodernity.Onthe one hand, Harries is
inspired by the Christian Neoplatonicmystical tradition of Eckhart andCusanus
to enter into and engagemoredeeplywith this dialectic–between what can be
said and what resists all saying.Heisdeeplyaware that Heideggertoo was in-
spired by Eckhart,and even, at one stage, plannedtowriteabook on him. On
the other hand,Harriesrecognizesthatavery special shifttook place in modern-
ity–aconceptual shift that was noticed by everyone from Nietzsche andHusserl
XII Foreword

to Ernst Cassirer,¹⁵AlexandreKoyré,¹⁶and Hans Blumenberg.¹⁷Somehow,the
project to liberate human beingsfrom the grip ofalimiting anthropocentric
worldview led to the opposite extreme, dislocating human beingsentirelyfrom
their home in the world. Is the price oftechnological culturethat human beings
will be permanentlyadrift and alienatedfrom their home?
In theAntinomyofBeingHarries offers usarich meditationonthe question
of the homeand homelessness of human being in its embodied and embedded
historicallyconditioned existence.Harries isaware that theKantian bifurcation
of appearance and reality led to a‘thing-in-itself’which is both necessary and
impossibletograsp. This tension is equallypresent inHusserlian phenomenol-
ogy’sattempttoground all“sense and being”(Sinn und Sein). In fact,all sci-
ence, as Schopenhauerand Nietzsche both knew,isanattempttoinscribereality
within some kind of closed and completeorder of concepts, principles and rules.
Harries’book isawork of original philosophizing.Itisawork of deepand
serious questioningyetitiswritten inaconversationalstyle without heavy tech-
nical jargon. Harries’rangeofreference is also extraordinarilywide–from Plato
toAquinastoNietzsche, andrangingacross poets from Hölderlin toHugovon
Hofmannsthal andTrakl, to themystics,such as Meister Eckhart and Nicholas
ofCusa. Harriesisforcingthe reader to think about the nature of modernity.
Where do we standtoday?He is following on from the great thinkers–including
Nietzsche and Heidegger–who havequestioned our modern cultureseeking its
significanceand its truth. Harries is struck deeplybythe deep human desire for
truth–especiallyasitmanifests itself in the desire for control and mastery over
the universe and everything. As Harries writes:“The philosopher,possessed by
the pathos of truth, does indeed lookalot likeGoethe’sMephistopheles.”This
book hasavery deep meditation on the natureoftruth, workingprimarily
with Heidegger’snotion of truth as disclosure against the more traditional
known of truth as adequacy to reality.Harries discusses not just Heidegger
and his criticErnstTugendhat,but alsoNietzsche’schallenging assertion that
Ernst Cassirer,Individuum undKosmos in der Philosophie der Renaissance(1927), trans.The
Individual and the Cosmos inRenaissance Philosophy(Oxford:Basil Blackwell, 1963).
AlexandreKoyré,From the ClosedWorldtothe Infinite Universe(Baltimore,MD:JohnsHop-
kins Press, 1957).
Hans Blumenberg,TheLegitimacyoftheModern Age,t rans. Robert M.WallaceCambridge,
MA:MITPress,1985); and hisTheGenesis of the CopernicanWorld,trans. Robert M.Wallace
(Cambridge,MA:MITPress,1987). SeeKarsten Harries,“CopernicanReflections,”review of
Hans Blumenberg,Die Genesis der kopernikanischenWelt,Inquiry,vol.23,1980,pp.253–269.
See also Elizabeth Brient,TheImmanence of the Infinite: Hans Blumenbergand theThreshold
toModernity(Washington,DC: Catholic University of America Press,2002).
Foreword XIII

truth is reallyaseries of metaphors and illusions that havebeen forgottenas
such, coins thathavebeen effaced.ForNietzsche, humans havean irrepressible
drivetogenerate metaphors but they end up livingwithin them as prisons im-
peding their ability to see beyond the scope of these dead metaphors.Humans
livein a“columbarium of concepts” (Kolumbarium derBegriffe).Tobreak out
of the prisonhouseoflanguageand of concepts, one has togobeyond everyday
language. One has to experience transcendence in art and most especiallyinthe
human person. The person is alwaysmorethan the subjectwho is contrasted
with the objectiveorder.Harries’discussion on the transcendent natureof per-
sons and his return to the personalistic language(found inKant,Scheler and
Stein) is an interesting contrast to the post-personalist languageofHeidegger
in his discussion of Dasein. But it is in the notion of the person thatHarries’
work comes together.¹⁸Harries boldlychallenges the modern technological out-
look. He writes:“science cannotknow anything of persons as persons.”The per-
son (and the loss of the person) is the focalpoint for his engagement with art,
architecture, poetry,modernity,and indeed part of his struggle withKant.
Kant demands we treat persons as ends in themselvesbut does not giveatheo-
retical account of how werecognize persons as persons.Persons function in a
different space from thatofthe material universe. As Harries puts it,withrefer-
ence toWittgenstein,“The subject,the person, has always alreadyfallen out of
this picture.”Harries turns to Kierkegaard for the recognition of the person in his
or her pure subjectivity.Persons occupy first-personal stances or perspectiveson
the world. These perspectivesare ineliminable even as one tries for an a-perspec-
tival‘objective’view of things. Inaway,Harries’claim is that art and architec-
ture as well as philosophyhavetomake spacefor persons. This is surelya
thoughtworth pursuing.
Dermot Moran(Boston Collegeand University CollegeDublin)
See, for instance,Karsten Harries,“The Ethical SignificanceofEnvironmental Beauty,” Ar-
chitecture, Ethics,and the Personhood of Place,ed. Gregory Caicco (Hanover and London: Uni-
versity Press of New England,2007), pp. 134–150.
XIV Foreword

Contents
AbbreviationsXIX
PrefaceXXI
Introduction1
IT he Antinomy of Being13
 The Antinomy of Being13
 Word and Thing17
II The Antinomy of Truth 24
 The Ill WillAgainst Language24
 Truth and Thing in Itself27
 TheTruth of Phenomena 30
 TruthasDisclosure35
 The Antinomy ofTruth 46
III The ArchitectureofReason 48
 Spider and Bee48
 ASocialContract TheoryofTruth49
 Mother and Father of OurConcepts55
 NietzscheandKant59
 TheTower of Babel60
IV The Devil as Philosopher 64
 Knowing Knowledge 64
 Idealism andNihilism66
 The Man WithoutaShadow 72
 The Devil as Philosopher73
 Scienceand Faith75
 Fichte’sFaith77
 The Loss of the Shadow78
VT he Shipwreck of Metaphysics81
 Introduction81
 Time as the Ground of Being81
 Sackgassen and Holzwege 85

 Theories of DoubleTruth 88
 Neurath’sPrinciple90
VI Limits and Legitimacy of Science 96
 The Meaninglessness of theWorld96
 “Only LawfulConnections are Thinkable” 97
 Picturesand Models 100
 Kant’sMetaphysical FoundationsofNatural Science103
VII Learning from Laputa 110
 Metaphysicsand Thinking110
 The AgeofGod’sDecomposition114
 The Goddess ofReason 117
 The Whore of Babylon123
 TheTwoFaces ofCuriosity124
VIII Abysmal Freedom and the Antinomy of Space 128
 Freedom and the InfiniteCosmos 128
 The Freedom of Thought134
 The Antinomy of Space140
 Place andSpace 142
 Elusive Space144
IX The Antinomy of Freedom 148
 Introduction148
 Fichte: Freedom and Necessity149
 Kant:The Third Antinomy–The Thesis154
 Kant:The Third Antinomy–The Antithesis157
 The ObjectiveReality of Freedom158
 TheCondemnation of 1277: Divine Freedom160
 TheCondemnation of 1277: Human Freedom162
XT he Antinomy of Time164
 Kant’sFirst AntinomyReconsidered164
 The Sublime167
 The Time of the Everyday172
 Saving and Spending Time178
XI The Rediscoveryofthe Earth181
 TheTerror of Time and Space181
XVI Contents

 July 20, 1969182
 “The Spirit LovesColony and BraveForgetting” 187
 Looking at the Stars190
 The DisenchantedWorld194
XII Astronoetics 199
 What is Astronoetics?199
 Loss of theCenter200
 Postmodern Levity203
 Icarus207
 Our Unique Earth208
 Post-postmodern Geocentrism212
XIIIConclusion: The Snake’sPromise 216
 An Old Story216
 Return to Myth in the Age ofTechnology?217
 Our Discontent withTechnology 219
 The Objectification ofReality222
 “WeHave ArtSoWeMay Not Perish From TheTruth” 226
 The Art-Work of the Future229
 The ArtistasLeader?231
 The Snake’sPromise 233
Bibliography235
Index243
Contents XVII

Abbreviations
A/B refers to the first and second editions of:
Kritik der reinenVernunft;The Critique ofPureReason,PaulGuyer,AllenW.Wood
(Eds. andTrans.), (Cambridge:CambridgeUniversity Press,1999);
Kritik der PraktischenVernunft;Critique of Practical Reason,Werner Pluhar(Trans.),
(Indianapolis:Hackett, 2002);
Kritik der Urteilskraft;Critique of Judgment,Werner Pluhar(Trans.),(Indianapolis:
Hackett, 1987).
GA Martin HeideggerGesamtausgabe(Frankfurt am Main: published by Vittorio Kloster-
mann,1977—). WhenIuseatranslation, the pagereference followsthat to the volume
of theGesamtausgabe.Irefer to the following volumes:
GA2Sein undZeit(1927);Being and Time,J ohn Macquarrie andEdwardRobinson(Trans.),
(NewYork andEvanston: Harper,1962). Sincethe translation includes the pagination
of the 7th edition(Tübingen: Niemeyer,1953),Ialso refer to thatedition, abbreviated
asSZ.
GA3Kantund das Problem der Metaphysik(1929).
GA4Erläuterungen zu HölderlinsDichtung(1936–1973).
GA5Holzwege(1935–46).
GA7Vorträge und Aufsätze(1936–1953).
GA9Wegmarken(1919–1958).
“Letter on Humanism,”FrankA.Capuzziand J. Glenn Gray(Trans.),Basic Writings,
David Farrell Krell (Ed.), (NewYork: Harper and Row,1977).
GA12Unterwegs zur Sprache(1950–59)
On the Way to Language,PeterD.Hertz(Trans.) (NewYork: Harper&Row,1971).
GA13Aus der Erfahrung desDenkens (1910–1976).
GA14ZurSaches des Denkens(1962–1964).
On Time and Being,Joan Stambaugh(Trans.), (NewYork: Harper andRow,1972)
“The End of Philosophy and theTaskof Thinking” inD.F.Krell, (Ed.),Basic Writings
(NewYork: HarperCollins, 1993).
GA16 Reden undZeugnisseeines Lebensweges(1910–1976).
GA24Die Grundprobleme der Phänomenologie(1927).
The Basic Problems of Phenomenology,revised edition, AlbertHofstadter(Trans.),
(Bloomington: University of IndianaPress,1988).
GA52Hölderlins Hymne“Andenken”(1943).
GA53Hölderlins Hymne“Der Ister”(1942).
GA65Beiträge zur Philosophie(Vom Ereignis)(1936–1938).
TL Friedrich Nietzsche,“OnTruth and Lie inaNonmoral Sense,”inPhilosophy andTruth:
Selections From Nietzsche’sNotebooks of the Early 1970’s,Daniel Breazeale (Ed.and
Trans.), (Atlantic Highlands: Humanities Press, 1979).
VM Johann Gottlieb Fichte,Die Bestimmmungdes Menschen(1800). References in the text
aretoTheVocation of Man,Roderick M.,Chisholm (Ed.and Intro), (NewYork, Liberal
Arts Press,1956).
https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110629323-002

Preface
After morethan fiftyyears of teachingIfeelabit likeanold gardener whose la-
bors over theyears havebeenrewarded.Iam thinking of whatIhavewritten and
of its reception; but even more ofmystudents, especiallyofthe63dissertations I
havedirected: they helped me findmyownway.Directing dissertations isabit
like pruning:keep thegood growth,getrid of what is not wanted. So is philo-
sophical reflection.
Ihaveexperiencednosignificant tension between teachingandmyown
work. Interaction with studentshas been indispensable.With onlyafew excep-
tionsmyarticles and books haveall grown out ofmyteaching. That is especially
true of the present book, in substance the notes for whatIknew would bemy
final seminar,given in the spring of2017.Adissertation by OmriBoehm,
“Kant’sCritique ofSpinoza”(2009)¹⁹deserves special mention. The discussions
Ihad withBoehm and the dissertation’sco-adviser Michael della Rocca,awell-
knownSpinoza scholar,helpedmetosharpenmyunderstandingofwhatIhad
alreadycome to call theAntinomyofBeing,which calls into question the archi-
tectureofreason, exemplified bySpinoza’sEthics,and moreimportantlyby our
science.Both deservemyheartfelt thanks.
Ifirst presented this antinomyinaseminar“Kant’sConcepts of Nature”that
Ico-taught withBoehm in the fall of2009.Ideveloped it further intenlectures I
gaveat the Leuphana University in LüneburginJune2010,subsequentlypub-
lished asWahrheit: Die Architektur derWelt.Ithank ChristophJamme for the op-
portunity to presentmythoughts inmynativeGerman.²⁰Anumber of articles
explored aspectsofthatantinomyfurther.²¹This book, in substancemyfinal
seminar,gathers and deepens these reflections.
See OmriBoehm,Kant’sCritique of Spinoza(NewYork: OxfordUniversity Press,2014).
SeeKarsten Harries,Wahrheit: Die Architektur derWelt(Paderborn:Wilhelm Fink,2012).
Karsten Harries,“Architecture and Anarchitecture: The AntinomyofBuilding,”Aesthetic
Pathways,Vol. 1, Nr.1,December2010,pp.59–78.
Karsten Harries,“VomWiderwillengegenArchitektur oder die Antinomie des Seins”/“On the Ill
WillAgainst Architecture or The Antinomyof Being.”DisplacedFractures. Über die Bruchlinien in
Architekturen und ihren Körpern,ThomasTrummer und HeikeMunder (Eds.), Migros Museum für
Gegenwartskunst,Zürich,2011.
Karsten Harries,“The AntinomyofBeingand the End of Philosophy,”Division III of Being and
Time:Heidegger’ sUnanswered Question of Being,LeeBraver(Ed.),(Cambridge,MA:MIT),
pp. 133–148.
Karsten Harries,“The AntinomyofBeing:Heidegger’sCritique ofHumanism,”TheCambridge
Companion to Existentialism,S tevenCrowell(Ed.),(Cambridge:CambridgeUniversity Press,
2012), pp.178–198.
https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110629323-003

Dermot Moran deserves special thanks for convincingme to publish these
reworked seminar notes.Given the long prehistoryofthese thoughtsIfind it im-
possibletoname and thank all the manypeople who havehelped me findmy
way.Someare mentioned in the following pages. But,asmentioned, especially
mymanystudents havebeen essential.TothemIdedicate this book.
XXII Preface

Introduction
That,after 56years ofteaching,Ichosetoentitlemyfinal seminar“The Antin-
omyofBeing”calls for an explanation. What didIhaveinmind whenIchose
this title foracoursemeant to explore whatIhad come to think of as the uni-
fying thread ofmyphilosophicalmusings?Whydid this antinomymatter to
me? And whyshould it concern us?
As the word, which joins the Greekanti,(opposed to) andnomos(law), sug-
gests,“antinomy”refers to an incompatibility of what appeartobetwo well-
foundedpositions. Whenaphilosopher usesthe word“antinomy”he is likely
to think first of all ofKant and his four antinomies, which weremeant to
provethatthe beingof thingshas to be understood in two senses: what we ex-
perience are first of all phenomena, appearances,and as such their being is es-
sentiallyabeing for the knowing subject.Science investigates these phenomena.
But the thingsweexperience are also thingsinthemselves, and as such they
possessatranscendent beingthat eludes our comprehension. The identification
of phenomena, of what science can know,withreality is shown tomireus in con-
tradiction.
In the ninth and tenth chapters of this bookItakeacloser look atKant’san-
tinomies, especiallythe first and the third.Ishow that they open the onlyway
towards an overcoming of thatnihilismthat isacorollary of the understanding
ofreality that presides over our science andtechnology.And it is the problem of
nihilismthathas preoccupied me ever sincemydissertation.²²Itseems onlyfit-
ting thatIshould havereturnedtothis problem in whatIknew would bemy
final seminar.
But whenIamspeakingofthe AntinomyofBeingIamthinkingnot onlyof
Kant and his insistencethat the beingof thingsbeunderstood in two quite dis-
tinct senses, but also of Heidegger.Not that Heideggerspoke of such an antin-
omy;but his questioning ofBeing led him and will lead those who attempt to
follow him on his path of thinking into that antinomy.AsIshow elsewhere, it
is in this antinomythat Heidegger’smuch-discussedKehreor reversal of the di-
rection of his thinkinghas its foundation.²³
Karsten Harries,InaStrangeLand. An Exploration of Nihilism,PhD dissertation,Yale Univer-
sity,1961.
SeeKarsten Harries,“The AntinomyofBeingand the End of Philosophy,”Division III of
Being andTime: Heidegger’ sUnansweredQuestion of Being,LeeBraver(Ed.),(Cambridge,MA:
MITPress,2015), pp. 133–148. See alsoKarsten Harries,“The AntinomyofBeing:Heidegger’s
https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110629323-004

WhatIamconcernedwith in this book, however,isatbottom neitherKant’s
nor Heidegger’sthought.Ishall try to show thatour thinkinginevitablyleads us
into someversion of this antinomywhenever it attemptstocomprehendreality
in toto,without loss, and thataconsequence of that attempt isaloss of reality.
All such attempts willfall shortoftheirgoal. What science can know and what
reality is are in the end incommensurable.Such incommensurability however,is
not somethingtobe grudginglyaccepted, but embraced asanecessary condition
of livingameaningful life. That is whythe AntinomyofBeing matters and
should concern us.
As suggested by the decisiontonamemyfinal seminar in whichIsought to
address oncemorewhatIhad come to consider the unifying themeofthe arc of
mystillevolving philosophicalreflections“The AntinomyofBeing,”myconcern
with what is at issue antedatesmyuse of the expression byagreat manyyears. I
can indeed traceits origin backtoatime whenIhad notyetreadasingle phil-
osophical text.
Ibecame seriouslyinterested in philosophyonlyasanundergraduateatYale
University.That time—Iarrivedasafreshmanin1954—now seems both close and
distant.Less than threeyears had passed sincemyfamilyleft then stillwar-torn
Germany.Memories of all too frequent airraids, images of the burningBerlin,
which we children could watch night after night from the attic of our housein
Eichkamp, of the bunkermyfather had built in ourgarden, of glittering sharp
bomb splinters that we children found beautiful and collected, but thattore
the pockets of our pants muchtomymother’schagrin, ofaneighbor forced to
wear theJewish-star,ofstrafingplanes, ofaprison camp on whichmybrother
andIstumbled,having lost our wayinthe fogonthe Große Gleichberg, horrified
by the look of the prisoners; and then, after the war,ofwar-torn Munich, of hun-
gerand living in the last,barelyinhabitable story of an apartment house that
had lost its roof, these and countless other memories were still fresh inmy
mind then andremainvery much with me; also much more positiveimages of
aland still beautiful, despite all that hadravagedit,of rococo churches that
haveretainedtheirmagic, of Munich’sMaximiliansgymnasium, which even
thoughIattended it onlyfor four shortyears, laidafirm foundation on which
Icould build. That school and its teachers wereone reason whyIdid not
want to leaveGermanywhenmyfather,aphysicist,acceptedagenerous offer
to come to the United States.
Critique ofHumanism,”TheCambridgeCompanion to Existentialism,S tevenCrowell (Ed.),(Cam-
bridge:CambridgeUniversity Press,2012), pp.178–198.
2 Introduction

What mademeturn to philosophy?Aristotle’saccount of what lets human
beingsturn to philosophyseems to fitmyown case:“Foritisowingtotheir won-
der that men both now begin and at first began to philosophize; they wondered
originallyatthe obvious difficulties,then advanced little by little and stateddif-
ficulties about the greater matters,e.g., about the phenomena of the moon and
those of the sun and the stars, and about thegenesis of the universe.”²⁴Asaboy
Iwas interested in how thingsworked; watermills especiallyfascinatedme; so
did animals and trees.Idreamed of becomingaforester.Asayoungteenager
Ibecame interested in astronomy.Still in Germany,Igothold ofavolume I
still own that included an essaybyPascualJordan on the expanding universe.²⁵
Like thatbook, one of onlyahandful of booksIbrought with me to the United
States,the questionsabout thegenesis of the universeJordan’sessayraised have
stayedwith me: How are wetothinkabeginning of both spaceand time?Atthe
timeIhad not heardofKant’santinomies; but such questions led me to wonder
even then about the legitimacy and limits of thereason that,presiding over our
science andtechnology,is shapingour life-worldevermore decisively.That has
remainedacentral concern. Five years later,now an undergraduateatYale, I
thus drifted, after consideringmathematics and history as possible majors,to-
wards philosophy.
In this connectionacourse in freehanddrawingItook withJosef Albersin
mysophomoreyear deserves special mention. Going backtomychildhood,an
interest in art and architecture has remainedacentral part ofmylife.Ihaveal-
ways loved to drawand paint.Isavednothing of whatIproduced in that class,
but some ofmywork, asIrecentlylearned, has survivedinthe Archiveof the
AlbersFoundation.²⁶WhatIremember about the class are first of all some of
the exercises.Onlargesheets of cheap newsprint paper that soon turnedyellow
and becamevery brittle,wewereasked, e.g., torecreatewith our pencilthetex-
ture of some newspaper just withvertical lines paralleltothe paper edge.We
werethen asked to paste what we had come up with into that newspaper to
judgehow well we had succeeded. There wereexercises,wherejust with
bands of differentlyspacedparallel lines we weretocreateavibrating surface;
we wereasked to rotatesomegeometric figure; or to capturethe textureofacer-
tain kind of wood, sayofbeech as opposedtooak.Andonce Albersasked us to
Aristotle,Metaphysics,I,982b12–22,W.D.Ross (Trans.).
PascualJordan,“Kosmogonische Anschauungender modernen Physik,”Naturwissenschaft
–Religion–Weltanschauung.Clausthaler Gespräch 1948(Clausthal-Zellerfeld, 1949), pp.25–33.
See AnokaFaruqee,SearchVersusRe-Search: Recollections ofJosefAlbers atYale,afilm by
AnokaFaruqee,PublishedJuly1,2016,https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cC7671N76_Q
Introduction 3

drawthe essence of daffodils, daffodility ifyouwant,without drawing even one
clearlyrecognizable daffodil.Ifound thisaparticularlymemorable exercise.
Onlyafter that course didIdecide to turn to philosophy.Is thereaconnec-
tion between whatIlearned from Albersandmylater work in philosophy?It
seems to me that there is. Studyingwith Albersopenedone’seyes. In that
class Albersdid not burden us students with theory.Nodoubt hisInteraction
of ColorowesadebttoJohannesItten, with whom he studied at theBauhaus,
before beginningtoteach there; alsotoKandinsky.Itten in turn would seem
to haveowedadebt toAdolf Hoelzel, who looked backtoSchopenhauer’s
and especiallytoGoethe’scolor theory.
But if Albersdid not seem especiallyinterestedindevelopingatheory about
color,his explorations, especiallyintheHomage to the Squareseries, offer ma-
terial for suchatheory.Albers made oneaware of how impoverished our color
vocabulary is when compared to the infinite shades of color we experience.That
insight into the incommensurability of what we perceiveand what we areable to
put into words has remainedwith me.Withoutbeing named asyet,the Antinomy
ofBeing here announced itself. My interest in the visual,inthe primacy of per-
ception, has taught me nottooverestimatethe power of language, taught me to
question the claim that our conceptsgiveusamore adequate access to reality
than our eyes or,moregenerally,than our senses. What here is themeasure of
adequacy?Thus this courseraised the question: how are wetounderstandreal-
ity?Related is Heidegger’squestion ofBeing that later came to preoccupyme
and with whichmyfinal seminar was stillwrestling.Itisaquestion thatIbelieve
has nogood answer.Albershelpedmetoappreciate the wisdom of Nietzsche’s
words:
Oh, those Greeks! They understood how tolive.Whatyouneed for that istobe braveand
stopatthe surface, the fold, the skin, toworshipappearance, to believeintones,words,the
whole Olympus ofappearance. Those Greeks weresuperficial–out of profundity.²⁷
The keytowhat makes life meaningful,Iamconvinced, is to be found in what
Nietzsche here calls superficiality.Myexploration of the AntinomyofBeing is
intended to support that claim.
Althoughapoet,Alberswas suspiciousofwords.Ishare that suspicion. I
havethus longbeen interested in, but also suspicious of the linguistic turn
taken by philosophyinthe20
th
century.Ialsoquestion the claim that science
givesusthe most adequate access toreality.Not that we should call its legitima-
Friedrich Nietzsche,TheGay Science,WalterKaufmann (Trans.), (RandomHouse, 1974). Sec-
ond Preface, p. 38. Cf.Nietzsche contraWagner,Conclusion.
4 Introduction

cy into question:todenythe legitimacy of science, to fail to recognize its ach-
ievements,is to lose one’splace in the modern world. But,asthis book
shows, science is inescapablyshadowed by nihilism.Todo justicetothe legiti-
macy of science, but also to exhibit its limits has thus beenacentral concern of
much ofmywork. In this enterpriseIfoundakindredspirit in Hans Blumen-
berg,²⁸whomIonce attempted to lure, in the endwithout success,toYale.
Plato taught us to distinguish the subjectiveappearance of thingsfrom their
objectivereality.Galileo and Descartes and the science they set on its course tell
us that roses are notreallyred, grass not reallygreen. They haveproperties that
disposeus, having the kind of bodies and brains we happentohave,tosee them
that way.In principle, should physics not be able to explain all thatneeds ex-
plaining?But can science so understood reallyprovide us withafullyadequate
explanation even of color,e.g., of how color functionsinnature? Albers invited
onetoraise such questions. His work with color opens windows in the house of
language. Heideggercalled languagethe house ofBeing(GA9,333). Albersmade
one wonder whetherBeing is ever reallyathome in that house. That thought has
remained with me.
AsachildIwonderedwhywe speak of highand low tones while the color
spectrum can be arranged inacircle:there is nogapthat separates the last visi-
ble red before wegettoinfra-red from the last visibleviolet before wegetto
ultra-violet.Artists havethus longmade use of the color wheel. Whyshould
there be this difference between the waywehear and the waywesee? After
all, both, thetones we hear and the colors we see, depend on wavelength.
The apparent discrepancy between the physical and physiological, and be-
tween the perceptual and psychological fascinated me, as it would seemto
havefascinatedWittgenstein, who asks,“Whyshould there not beapsycholog-
ical regularity to whichnophysiological regularity corresponds?”And com-
ments:“If this upsets our concepts of causality then it is high time they were
upset.”²⁹
Ihavealways beenaboundary-crosser.AsanundergraduateIthus ended
up notreallymajoring in anyone subject.Yale’sScholar of the House program
freed me inmysenioryear from the normal course requirements.Itrequired in-
steadadissertation-length essay.Igavemine the titleChange and Permanence. A
See especiallyHans Blumenberg,Die Legitimität der Neuzeit(Frankfurt am Main:Suhrkamp,
1966).Trans.Robert M.Wallace,The Legitimacy of theModern Age(Cambridge,MA.: MIT Press,
1983), andDie Genesis der kopernikanischenWelt(Frankfurt am Main:Suhrkamp, 1975). Robert
M.Wallace(Trans.),TheGenesis of the CopernicanWorld(Cambridge,MA:MITPress,1987).
LudwigWittgenstein,Zettel, 40th AnniversaryEdition,G. E. M. Anscombe, G. H.vonWright
(Eds.),(Oakland: University of California Press,2007), p.610.
Introduction 5

Study of Structure, Symbol, andIdea in EightMajor ProseWorksbyHermann
Hesse.Itwasindeedquiteabit longer thanmydissertation wasgoingtobe.
In the PlatoscholarRobert S. BrumbaughIhad foundacaring adviser.Heintro-
duced me to Zeno’sparadoxesand toPlato’slate dialogues, especiallythePar-
menides,anticipations of whatIcame to call the AntinomyofBeing.
In its gropingwaymyScholar of the House essayalreadyattempted to ad-
dress that nihilismwhich inescapablyshadows the progress of reason. Three
years latermydissertation,Stranger InaStrange Land: An Exploration of Nihil-
ism,confronted that shadow more directly.
Continuingmystudies atYale, two teachers especiallyhelped shapemy
thinking;WilfridSellars, who introduced me toWittgenstein, and GeorgeA.
Schrader,with whomIstudiedKant,Husserl, and Heidegger.He became the ad-
viser ofmydissertation and for therest of his life—he died in 1998—continued to
bemymost important discussion partner.
The dissertation itself was written, after quiteabit of preliminary work,
mostlyinthecourse of one cold March in Florencein1961.Ithought it onlya
draft,respectable enough to showmydepartment thatIhad not fritteredaway
myyear abroad, visiting churches and climbing mountains. ButYale had offered
me an instructorship,mywife andIwereexpectingachild, and the draft was
thoughtsufficient.SoIsubmitted the dissertation in the fall of 1961,when I
began teaching.
Lookingback at that alltooquicklywritten dissertation,Iamstruck by how
manyofthe themesand thinkers that havecontinuedtooccupy me are ad-
dressed or at least touched on in those170pages. Inanutshell it alreadyinclud-
ed what was to becomemyfirst book,TheMeaning of Modern Art;and for hints
of an answer to the problem of nihilismIlooked even then to NicolausCusanus,
especiallytohis dialogueOnNot-other(Deli non aliud). Much laterCusanus was
to become the central figure ofmybookInfinity and Perspective.³⁰Whatholds
the different themes, addressed alreadyinthe dissertation,together isaconcern
with whatIcame to call the AntinomyofBeing.Not thatIthen called it that.
Then it was notyetHeidegger’sBeing andTimeorKant’sCritique ofPure Reason
that informedmydiscussion. Of Heidegger’sworksIhad studied closelyatthe
time onlythe essays collected inHolzwegeand the essayZur Seinsfrage.The
texts that most significantlyshapedmyreflections included Descartes’ Medita-
tions,Husserl’sIdeas,andWittgenstein’sTractatus.These works provided me
withaneeded foil. The firstvolume of Kierkegaard’sEither/Oroffered me a
key to understandingthe aesthetic approach to art and life thatI,too,wanted
Karsten Harries,Infinity and Perspective(Cambridge,MA: MIT Press,2001).
6 Introduction

to criticize.³¹Ifound essentiallythe same key in Sartre’sBeing and Nothingness.
Drawing on both,Ilocated the origin of nihilism in the inability of freedom to
bind itself.Nothinginexperience, Sartre insists, providesatranscendentguar-
antee of values, other than the subject itself.“Humannature, cannot receive
its ends…either from the outside or fromaso-called‘inner’nature.Itchooses
them and by thisvery choice confers upon thematranscendent existenceasthe
external limit of its projects.From this point of view…human reality in and
through itsvery upsurgedecides to define its own beingby its ends.Itis there-
fore the positing ofmyultimateends which characterizesmybeingwhich is
identicalwith the sudden thrust of freedom which is mine.”³²But,asSartre
knew all too well, life becomes precarious when values are determined by the
choice with which the individual determines him- or herself. IfIamtrulyfree,
what lets me fix value to thisrather than to that?Myinescapable embeddedness
in some particularsituation maylimitmyfreedom, but it does not provide the
necessary orientation. So understood, freedom hastolead to an understanding
of the world as it is in itself asamute, meaningless desertthatistransformed
intoameaningful world onlybythe upsurgeof freedom. But justthat upsurge,
that embodiment of freedom or its descent into an inevitablyparticular situation,
remains unintelligible.
In the dissertationIbeganmyreflections ingood phenomenological fashion
with an experience:“Justafew minutes ago,myattention was suddenlycaught
byapiece of music.ForamomentIforgotwhatIwas doing and listened. Then I
recognized the melodyand almost at the same time noticed thatIhad stopped
working.Ibecame conscious of listening and soon went back to work, while the
songreceded into the background. Themagical moment had passed.”³³Ilinked
suchauratic experience, be it ofawork of art,aperson, or an object to an expe-
rience of transcendence. WhatIcall the AntinomyofBeing opens windows to
such transcendence.
Ican tracemyloveofart and architecturetomychildhood. My bookTheBa-
varian Rococo Church:BetweenFaith andAestheticism,³⁴which was first pub-
That work continuedtoinform much ofmysubsequentwork. SeeKarsten HarriesBetween
Nihilism andFaith:ACommentaryonEither/Or(Berlin and NewYork: DeGruyter,March2010).
Jean-Paul Sartre,Being and Nothingness,Hazel E.Barnes (Trans.and Intro.), (NewYork:
Philosophical Library,1956), pp. 440–443.SeeKarsten Harries,InaStrange Land. An Explora-
tion of Nihilism,PhD dissertation,YaleUniversity,1961, pp, 16–17.
Karsten Harries,InaStrangeLand. An Exploration of Nihilism,PhD dissertation,Yale Univer-
sity,1961, p.7.
Karsten Harries,TheBavarian Rococo Church:BetweenFaith andAestheticism(New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1983).
Introduction 7

lished in 1983and has now appeared alsoinaconsiderablyrevised Germanver-
sion,³⁵was born of that love. Thevery fact thatIwrote suchabook suggests a
certain impatience with academic philosophy,althoughIdonot seeaprofound
break between this book andmymore obviouslyphilosophical work.TheBavar-
ian Rococo Churchtouches on many,perhaps all the themes that matter to me as
aphilosopher andtowhichIfirst gaveexpression inmydissertation. Letme
mention here just three of the themes addressed in this book,themesthat
havecontinuedtomatter to me and still figured inmylastseminar:
(1) That book is part of an extended reflection on the historical threshold that
separatesBaroque and Rococofrom the Enlightenment,anageof faith
from an ageofreason. But that threshold is also the threshold of our modern
world. There is thusasense in which this book is alsoareflection on our
spiritual culture, on both the legitimacy and the limits of that objectifying
reason that presides over it.Kant,especiallyhisCritique of Judgment,has re-
mainedimportanttome because he occupies thatsamethreshold and offers
usakeytounderstanding its significance. So does the AntinomyofBeing.
(2)Areviewer called this bookapreamble after the facttomyfirst book,The
Meaning of Modern Art³⁶of 1968, which wasagreatlyexpandedversion of
just one brief chapter ofmydissertation.Inasense he was right.That earlier
book called forastep beyond modern art,and not just modern art,but be-
yond the nihilistic understanding of reality that,Iclaimed,much modern art
presupposed, an understanding that renders naturemute, to be used and
abused by human beingsasthey see fit.Sincewriting thatbookIhave
cometosee more clearlywhat the step for whichIcalled presupposes:an
overcoming of what Nietzsche calls“the spirit of revenge,”of that“ill will
against time and its‘itwas’”³⁷thathas supported metaphysics ever since
Plato and at the sametime prevents us from fullyaffirmingall thatbinds
us to time, prevents us from affirming ourselvesasthe mortals we are: finite
and embodied. Much ofmyphilosophicalwork has continuedtocircle
around the possibility of such an overcoming,asitdid alreadyinmydisser-
tation.
(3) Closelylinked is the needtoquestion thataesthetic approach to art and ar-
chitecture, which, at least since Alexander GottliebBaumgarten’sestablish-
Karsten Harries,Die Bayerische Rokokokirche. Das Irrationale und das Sakrale(Dorfen: Hawel
Verlag,2009).
Karsten Harries,TheMeaning ofModern Art:APhilosophical Interpretation,(Evanston:
Northwestern University Press, 1968).
Friedrich Nietzsche,Thus Spoke Zarathustra, ThePortable Nietzsche,WalterKaufmann
(Trans.), (NewYork: Penguin Books, 1954), p.252.
8 Introduction

ment of aesthetics asaphilosophical discipline in the orbit of Cartesianra-
tionalism, has presided both over the production and the theory of art.That
approach leadswith some necessity to an understanding of works of archi-
tectureasdecorated sheds, as functional buildings to which an aesthetic
component has been added. And similarlyitleadstoanunderstanding of
art as an aestheticaddendum to an often alltooprosaic life. As its title sug-
gests, inTheEthical Function of Architecture³⁸Iargued that whatever distin-
guishesarchitecture from mere buildingneedstobeunderstood differently.
Wittgenstein claims thatphilosophicalproblems havethe form,“Idonot know
mywayabout,”aquotethatrecalls Aristotle who would havephilosophybegin
in wonder.Ofcourse, not all problems having this form are thereforealready
philosophical.Tolose one’swayinastrangecity is not sufficient to make one
aphilosopher.Nor is failuretounderstandanew piece of equipment.Saymy
computer misbehavesandIdon’tknow what to do;Idon’tknowmyway
about.But whydoes such loss of waynot present us withaphilosophical prob-
lem?Iwould suggest that it fails to do so because in such cases our disorienta-
tion is onlysuperficial. Thus in the first caseImight studyamap;inthe second I
might ask an expert for help. The problem poses itself againstabackground of
established and acceptedways of doing thingstowhich we can turntohelp us
decide what is to be done. Genuinelyphilosophical problems,Iwould like to
suggest,havenosuch background. They emergewherever human beingshave
begun to question the place assigned them by nature, society,and history,
and searchingfor firmer ground demand that this place be more securelyestab-
lished.
So understood, philosophycomes to an end, either when it despairs of re-
sponsiblyaddressing the questions thathaunt it,orwhen it steps on what it
takestobe firm ground and establishes what is now accepted asasecure foun-
dation. When the latter happens philosophygives birth toascience. There is thus
asense in which science and skepticism maybesaid to bound philosophy.Sci-
ence todaypresents philosophywithachallengeresembling that which photog-
raphypresentedtorepresentational painting.
But science itself is anything but unquestionable. There isasense in which
everyone of us,Isuspect,stands in an ambiguous relationshiptoscience and its
offspring, technology.Onone hand we haveto affirmscience. Givencountless
problems we face, it would be irresponsible not to do so. On the other hand sci-
ence cannot know anything of persons as persons. Nor can it know anything of
Harries,TheEthical Function of Architecture(Cambridge,MA:MITPress, 1997).
Introduction 9

values.Togivean account of both the legitimacy and limits of scientific under-
standing,and that means alsooftechnological thinking,seemstome one of the
main tasks facing philosophytoday.This book offers such an account.
Such an account must beguidedbysome understanding of where we should
begoing. In this broad sense all philosophyisatbottom“ethicalreflection,”re-
flectionconcerning the ethos, concerning the question: how should we takeour
place in this fragile world?ThisItaketobe philosophy’sfundamental question.
But is philosophyable to determine our proper place?Traditionallysuch de-
terminations weregiven not by philosophers, but by prophets,poets, and states-
men. Plato’sRepublicgivesexpressiontothe claim that the philosopher should
take over from the poet the task of establishingwhat our place should be. The
ethical function thatreligion, art,and politics once had now comes to be claim-
ed by reason.
Unfortunatelyreason has proved unequaltothe assumedtask.AsNietzsche
saw,we livetodayinthe ruins of the inheritedvalue system.Tosupport this
claimIwould haveto show that,notwithstanding the efforts of philosophers
fromPlato toKant and indeed right down to the present,reason alone has
been unable to meet the challenges we face effectively.Let me givejustone ex-
ample:That we all need to make sure that those natural resourcesonwhich we
depend for our survival will continuetobeavailable, not justtous, buttofuture
generations, has become almostacliché.Givenastillrising life expectancy,a
still growingpopulation, and demands for an ever higher standard of living,
the conclusion seems inevitable: the road on which the world has been traveling
has to leadtodisaster,orrather disasters–not onlytothe expecteddisasters,
such as mass starvation, wars for land,globalwarming,adeteriorating environ-
ment that will make cleanwater,air,and soil, not to speak ofrelativelyun-
spoiled nature, increasinglyscarceresources,but alsotomoraldisaster.But if
we all at bottom should know this, whydoour responses remain so half-hearted?
Needed is more thanreason. The individual who says after me the deluge,who
cares neither for his neighbor nor for cominggenerations, is not unreasonable.
His isadifferent problem: he hasaheart of stone. Needed isachangeofheart.
But how do we changehearts?Schiller’sLettersontheAesthetic Education of
Manremains relevant:tochangethe waywerelatetothe environment we
need morethan just cold reason.Weneed to experience and cherish this earth
as our home, the onlyhome thatweshall ever have.
In this senseIhavecalled inmybookInfinity and Perspective,as well as in
quiteanumber of lectures and articles, forapost-Copernicangeo-centrism.³⁹
SeeKarsten Harries,“What Need is Therefor an EnvironmentalAesthetics,” TheNordicJour-
10 Introduction

Full self-affirmation requires an affirmation of the never quite resolvedtension
between our need for freedom and our need for place, between dreams of jour-
neying into the unknown and dreams of homecoming. In thattension theAntin-
omyofBeing finds one expression.Weare curious creatures, and curiosity calls
us again and againawayfrom home, beyond the places and the associated
points of view and perspectivesassignedtous by our situation. The loss of para-
dise will berepeated over and over by human curiosity.Relentlesslyitbids us
embark on ever newvoyagesofdiscovery,lets us repeat the Copernican revolu-
tion over and over again.Toquote Nietzsche,“Since Copernicus, man seems to
havegothimself on an inclined plane–now he is slipping faster and fasteraway
from the center into–what?into nothingness?into apenetratingsense of his
own nothingness?”⁴⁰As science has opened our life-worldtothe universe, this
earth has become ever less homelike, more and morelikeaship lost in an end-
less ocean, embarked onajourney with no discerniblegoal. But just as we have
come to see the insignificance of human life here on earth, when measured by
the spaceand time of the cosmos,wealso havecometoan increasedawareness
that for all practical purposes we are alone in the cosmos,that this earth is the
onlyhome wewill ever have.That space exploration and the environmental
movement should havedevelopedinthevery sameyears is no accident.There
isasense in which the exploration of space, includingthe vain search for extra-
terrestrial intelligence, haveled to an ever clearer sense that we haveno other
home than this fragile, beautiful earth, which we should leaveto thosewho
come after us inastate thatwill allow them to flourish.⁴¹Despiteour freedom,
we remain earth-bound mortals. Our bodies and this earthtowhich we belong
remain the ground of all meaning.Inthis sense we can speak of the need for
apost-Copernicangeo-centrism.
Despitethe Copernican confidencethat ourreason and reality are commen-
surable, we havetoaccept their final incommensurability.The confidence that
our human reason is in principle able to fathom reality,aconfidence that
finds expression in the principle of sufficient reason, which holds thatevery-
nal ofAesthetic
s, no. 40–41,2010–2011,pp. 7–22and“Longing forIthaca: On the Need for a
Post-Copernican Geocentrism,”Fromthe ThingsThemselves, Architectureand Phenomenology,
Jacquet andVincent Giraud (Eds.), (Kyoto:KyotoUniversity Press.École francaise d’Extrème-Ori-
ent,2012), pp. 495–522.
Friedrich Nietzsche,On the Genealogy ofMorals and Ecce Homo,WalterKaufmann andR.J.
Hollingdale (Trans.), (NewYork:Vintage,1989), p. 155.
Hans Blumenberg,Die Genesis der kopernikanischenWelt(Frankfurt am Main:Suhrkamp,
1975). Robert M.Wallace(Trans.),TheGenesis of the CopernicanWorld(Cambridge,MA:MIT
Press, 1987). See alsoKarsten Harries,Infinity and Perspective(Cambridge,MA:MITPress,2001).
Introduction 11

thing hasareason, suffers shipwreck,Iwant to insist,onthe AntinomyofBeing.
That antinomydemandsadistinction between two senses ofBeing.The first
transcendental sense makesBeing relativeto our human being.The second tran-
scendent sense grounds our being and thus alsoBeing understood transcenden-
tally.But anyattempt to conceptuallylayholdofthat ground must fail. Hereour
thinkingbumpsagainst the limits of languageand logic. Andyetthis ground is
present to us whenever we experience the reality of thereal,thatsomething is,
as opposedtowhat it is.Tobe open to the givenness of things, to the giftoftheir
being,istoopenawindow in the house built for us by our reason, in which phe-
nomena havetotake theirplace if they are to be for us at all,awindow in the
world of phenomena to their transcendent ground. Every time we respondto a
person asaperson we open suchawindow.And the same can be said of our
experience ofagenuine work of art; or of the beauty ofadaffodil. TheWittgen-
stein of theTractatusmight havesaid:awindow to what is higher.This seminar,
too, attempts to open suchawindow.
12 Introduction

IThe Antinomy of Being
1The Antinomy of Being
AsIpointed out in the Introduction, the titleIhavegiven this seminar is meant
to invokebothKant and Heidegger,especiallythe latter.Not thatHeideggerused
that expression, but he hadtoconfront this antinomyinBeing andTime(1927)in
his attempttothink what he cametocall the ontological difference, the differ-
ence between beingsand their being–and his central concern wasto remain
until thevery end of his life the question ofBeing.Wearetemptedtosay:without
Being beingswould not be. Not thatweeverencounterBeing apart from our en-
counterwith beings.Being is not some entity in the world that we might some-
how discover.But in every encounter with some entityBeing is co-present as the
mode of its presencing,the wayweencounter it,evenifBeing so understood re-
mains almost always unthematized and not attended to. There is not just one
such mode: the beingofatool is not that ofascientific object,the being of a
person not that ofaworkofart.There are modes ofBeing.But withoutBeing
beingswould not enter our consciousness,would not be.Being is constitutive
of and in this sense transcends beings. So understoodBeing can be said to be
transcendental.
As GeorgeBerkeleyrecognized, beingscan present themselvesonlytoa
being that in some sense experiences or perceivesthem.Esse est percipi.
Mind-independent thingscannot be thought.Heideggerwould not disagree.
But whileBerkeley could appealtoadivine knower who sustains all there is,
Heideggercannot think mind except as our human mind.Being,Sein,isthus
made dependent on Dasein, i.e., on human being.Not that this commits Heideg-
gertosolipsism: Dasein is nottobe thoughtasanatomic subject,but as essen-
tiallyabeing-with-others.ForBeing,sounderstood,“tobe”theremust be
human beings.
But this attempt to groundBeing in the constitution of Dasein, of human
being,has to call itself into question. In Heidegger’slecture courseTheBasic
Problems of Phenomenology(1927), whereHeideggerfirst usesthe expressionon-
tologischeDifferenz,“ontological difference”(GA24,22),the difficulty shows it-
self inaparagraph in which he takes up the problem of truth inawaythatre-
mains closetothe somewhat earlier parallel discussion inBeing andTime.“The
problem concentratesitself in the question: how does the existenceoftruthre-
late toBeing and thewayand mannerinwhichBeing is?”(GA24,318).Truth had
long been relatedtomind. Think of ThomasAquinas’ famous definition:veritas
est adaequatioreiand intellectus, “truth is the adequacy of the thing and the in-
https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110629323-005

tellect.”⁴²Thatmakestruth essentiallymind-dependent.Heidegger,who knew
his scholasticsvery well, remains within the orbit of that definition. But the
onlyintellect he recognizes is the human intellect.That is to say,for him there
is no truth and that means for him also noBeing,without Dasein(GA24,316).
But what about things?Is it not obvious that thingssuch as dinosaurs exist-
ed long before there werehuman beings?AndsoHeideggerasks:“Is thereBeing
only,when truth exists, i.e., when Dasein exists?Does whether there isBeing or
not depend on the existenceofDasein?”(GA24,317).
Heidegger’sfundamental ontology would seem to demandthatweanswer
this question affirmatively.But can this mean that therewas noBeing before
human beingscame into existence?His answer invites questioning:“The kind
and manner,inwhichBeing is and alone can be, prejudgesnothingconcerning
whether and how beingscan be as beings”(GA24,317). Earlier he had ex-
plained:“Before their discovery Newton’slawswereneither truenor false.
That cannot mean that the beings that are uncovered with therevealedlawsbe-
fore that werenot so, as they showed themselvesafter their uncovering,and, as
showing themselvesthus, are. The discovering,i.e., the truth,reveals beingspre-
ciselyaswhat they alreadywere, without regard to their being discovered or not”
(GA24,314).Tobe what it is, Heideggerrightlyinsists, nature does not need to
disclose itself to human beings, i.e., does not need truth. But do we not want to
saythen thatnature transcends Dasein and thus truth?And if we havetothink
nature in this way,do we not also havetothink ofBeing as transcendingthe Da-
sein-dependent transcendentalBeing to whichBeing andTimesought to lead
us?
The discussion of truth andBeing inTheBasic Problems of Phenomenology,
and more especiallythe cited Newton passage, tracks and expandsonthe par-
allel discussion in paragraphs43and 44 ofBeing andTime.Ishall consider it
in more detail in ChapterTwo. InBeing andTimealreadyHeideggerfaced the
need to takeastepbeyond an understanding ofBeing thatmakes it dependent
on Dasein and thus beyond his own existential analysis.Tobesure, nomore
than in theBasic Problemsdid Heideggerrecognize at this pointadeepchal-
lengetohis project:
But the fact that Reality is ontologicallygrounded in the BeingofDasein does not signify
that onlywhen Dasein exists and as long as Dasein exists,can the Real be as thatwhich in
itself it is.
ThomasAquinas,Questiones disputatae de veritate,qu.1,art.1.HereIwould liketothank
GeorgeLindbeck,with whomIfirst studiedDeVeritate.
14 IThe Antinomy of Being

Of course onlyaslong as Dasein is (that is onlyaslong as an understanding ofBeingis
onticallypossible [that is onlyaslong as human beings areabletoexist]),‘is there’
Being.When Dasein does not exist,‘independence’‘is’not either,nor‘is’the‘in-itself.’
In suchacase this sort of thing can be neither understood nor not understood. In such
acase even entities within-the world can neither be discoverednor lie hidden. In such a
case it cannot be said that entities are, nor can it be said that they arenot.But now,as
long as there is an understanding of Beingand therefore an understanding of presence-
at-hand, it can indeed be said that in this case entities will still continuetobe(GA2,
280–281;212).
Like the Newton passagecited above, this would seem to forceustothink“be-
ings”as transcending“Being.”But to think them in that way,must we not attrib-
ute to them some sort of transcendentBeing?But suchBeing,Heideggerwarns
us, cannot be understood.
Heidegger,asIpointed out,had to confront the AntinomyofBeing inBeing
andTimein his attempt to think the ontological difference.When we approach
that differencefrom the perspectiveof the transcendental phenomenologyHei-
deggerthen embraced, we will want to say:Being is constitutiveof and in this
sense transcends beings.Beingscan present themselvesonlytoabeingthatis
such as we are,abeingthat,embodied anddwellinginlanguage, is open to
aworld in which beingshavetotake theirplace and present themselvesif
they are“to be”at all. And so Heideggercame to call languagethe house of
Being.The waybeingspresent themselvesisalways mediated by the body,by
language, by history and founded in the being of Dasein as care.
In the“Letter onHumanism”(1947) Heideggerwillrepeat thus the sentence:
“Onlyaslong as Dasein is, is there [gibt es]B eing”(GA9,336). But Heidegger
qualifies this when he speaks in par.43ofBe ing andTimeof the dependence
ofBeing,but not of beings, of reality,but not of the real, on care, i.e., on the al-
ways understanding and caring being of human beings.In“The Letter onHu-
manism”this qualification becomes:“But the fact thatthe Da, the lightingas
the truth ofBeing itself, comes to pass is the dispensation ofBeing itself…”
(GA9,336). There is thereforeasense in which beingsand the real can be said
to transcend thatBeing (Sein), which is said to berelativeto Dasein.Tobe
sure, these beingscould not“be”in the first sense withouthuman beings.
Onlyhuman consciousness provides the open space, the clearingthat allows
thingstobeperceived, understood, and cared for.That space isapresupposition
of the accessibility of things, of theirBeing.But this is nottosaythat we in any
sense createthese beings. They are giventous. Our experience of the reality of
the real is thus an experience of beingsastranscendingBeing so understood.
This invitesadistinction between two senses ofBeing,the first transcendental
sense relativeto Dasein and in this sense inescapablyhistorical, the second tran-
1The Antinomy of Being 15

scendent sense,gesturing towards the ground or origin of Dasein’shistorical
being and thus also ofBeing understood transcendentally.TranscendentBeing
dispenses“the Da, the lighting as the truth ofBeing”(GA9,336;216).
TodistinguishBeing,transcendentallyunderstood, from this transcendent
Being,Heideggerwill at times, taking his cue from Hölderlin, writeSeyninstead
ofSeinor crossSeinout.SeinandSeynare the two sides ofmyantinomy.Being
understood as the transcendent ground of experience (Seyn)transcendsBeing
understood transcendentally(Sein). This demands that we think ofBeing
(Sein)not justasdependent on Dasein, but as belongingtoSeyn.The happening
of truth thus comes to be understood by Heideggerasthe presencing(das
Wesen)ofSeyn.The attempttocomprehend this happening, however,inevitably
will become entangled in someversion of the AntinomyofBeing.This is suggest-
ed by Heidegger’sexplanation:“Seynneeds the human being for it to be (wesen ),
and the human being belongstoSeyn,sot hat he fulfill his ultimatevocation as
Da-sein”(GA65,251).ForSeyn“tobe,”it must disclose itself asSein.
Anyattempttoconceptuallylayholdofthat originatingground threatens to
transform it intoabeing,such as God or the thing in itself and must inevitably
fail. Hereour thinking bumps against the limits of language.Beingrefusestobe
imprisonedinthe house of language. Andyetthis elusiveground is somehow
presenttous, calls us, if in silence, openingawindow to transcendencein
our world,aworld shaped for us by the progress of philosophy,i.e., of metaphy-
sics. The evolution of Heidegger’sthought followingBeing andTimethus supple-
ments the silent call of conscience, which plays suchacentral part in thatbook,
providingakeytoHeidegger’sunderstanding ofauthenticity,with the equally
silent call of transcendentBeing (gesturedtowards by his understanding of
“earth”⁴³), wherethere is nowasuggestion that onlyasaresponsetothe latter
can there beauthentic speech andauthentic dwelling.Tospeak here of aKehre,
aU-turn, as Heideggerhimself does for the first time in print in the“Letter on
Humanism”(GA9,328), is misleading,inthat it suggestsareversal in his think-
ing.But,asHeideggerpointsout,“therehas been no changeofstandpoint.”The
question ofBeing remains central. The so-calledKehreis thus better understood,
as Heideggerhimself here describes it,not asaphilosophicaladvance, but as a
more thoughtful attempt to attendtothe mattertobethought(GA9,343). What
makes this stepnecessary is the antinomial essence ofBeing,which denies the
thinkerafoundation.The AntinomyofBeing shows us whywecannot dispense
SeeKarsten Harries,Art Matters:ACritical CommentaryonHeidegger’ s“TheOrigin of the
Workof Art”(NewYork: Springer,2009), pp. 109–123.
16 IThe AntinomyofBeing

with something liketheKantian understandingofthe thing in itself as the
ground of phenomena, even as the thing in itself eludes our understanding.
2Wordand Thing
Again and again Heideggerwas toreturntowhatIhavecalled theAntinomyof
Being.Sointhe essayDasWesender Sprache(1957),“The Esssence of Lan-
guage.”⁴⁴Heideggerhere comments on Stefan George’spoemDasWort(1919),
“TheWord”.
Wunder von ferne oder traum
Bracht ich an meines landes saum
Und harrte bis die graue norn
Den namenfand in ihrem born–
Drauf konntichs greifen dicht und stark
Nun blüht und glänzt es durch die mark…
Einst langt ich an nach guterfahrt
Mit einem kleinod reich und zart
Sie suchte lang undgabmir kund:
›So schläft hier nichts auf tiefem grund‹
Worauf es meiner hand entrann
Und nie mein land den schatz gewann…
So lernt ich traurig den verzicht:
Kein ding sei wo das wortgebricht.
And here the English translation by PeterD.Hertz:
Wonder or dream from distant land
Icarriedtomycountry’ sstrand
And waited till the twilit norn
Had found the name within her bourn–
ThenIcould grasp it close and strong
Itblooms and shines now the front along…
OnceIreturned from happy sail,
Ihadaprize so rich and frail,
Martin Heidegger,GA12,145–204;57–108.
2Word and Thing 17

She soughtfor long and tidingstold:
“No likeofthis these depths enfold.”
And straight it vanished frommyhand,
The treasure never gracedmyland…
SoIrenounced and sadlysee:
Whereword breaks off, no thingmaybe.
The last two lines suggestatranscendental interpretation of language: without
languagenothing can be. Onlylanguagegives thingsthe space that allows
themtobe. Thinking ofWittgenstein’sTractatus,⁴⁵we maywanttosubstitute
for languagelogical space: whatever can be hastofind its place in logical
space. Heideggerhasalessreductiveunderstanding of language. But the
point is essentiallythe same:
Onlywhere theword forathinghas been found is the thingathing. Onlythusisit.Accord-
ingly,wemust stress as follows:nothingiswherethe word, i. e., the name is lacking. The
word alone givesbeingtothe thing.Yethow canamerewordaccomplish this–to bring a
thinginto being?The true situation is obviouslyreverse.Take the sputnik. This thing, if
such it is, is obviouslyindependent of that namewhich we later tacked ontoit.But per-
hapsmatters are different with such things as rockets, atombombs,reactors,and the like,
different fromwhat the poem names in the first stanza of the first triad(GA12, 154;62).
What does Heideggerhaveinmind when he wonders whether theremight not be
asignificant difference between the being of thingssuch as“rockets, atom
bombs,reactors, and the like”and the being of the“wonder or dream”of
which the first triad of the poem speaks?The latterdoes seem in an obvious
sense language-dependent.i.e., on the existenceofhuman beings. But the stat-
ed reservation is difficult to dismiss. Consider the wayHeideggerspeaksinBeing
andTimeof the independence of beings, but not ofBeing,from human Dasein,
and that istosayalso from language, which he thinks with an architectonic met-
aphor as the house ofBeing.Inorder to be for us thingsmust find their place in
the house ofBeing,i.e.inlanguage. But countless thingswould seem to be,
without beingfor us. Continuingwith Heidegger’smetaphor,wehavetoask:
but isBeing reallyathomeinthis house?
Itis not easytosimplyanswer that questionwithafirm“yes.”Languageis
after allaproduct of human beings, and the arrival of human beingscapable of
speech isarather late event in the history of the earth, let alone the cosmos.
LudwigWittgenstein,Tractatus Logico Philosphicus,C.K.Ogden (Trans.), (London: Rout-
ledgeandKeganPaul, 1922).
18 IThe Antinomy of Being

HereNietzsche’sfable of the insignificance of human life seen fromacosmic per-
spective,which, followingKant and Schopenhauer,heplaces at the beginning of
“OnTruthand Lie in an Extramoral Sense”:
Onceuponatime, in some out of the waycorner of that universe which is dispersed into
numberless twinklingsolar systems,therewasastar uponwhich clever beasts invented
knowing. That was the most arrogantand mendacious minuteof“world history,”but nev-
ertheless,itwas onlyaminute. After naturehad drawnafew breaths, the star cooled and
congealed, and the clever beasts hadtodie.–One might invent suchafable, andyetstill
would not haveadequatelyillustrated how miserable,how shadowy and transient,how
aimless and arbitrary the human intellect looks within nature.Therewere eternities during
which it did not exist.And when it is all over with the human intellect,nothingwill have
happened.Forthis intellect has no additional missionwhich would lead it beyond human
life (TL79).
Who could denywhat Nietzsche here is saying about the insignificanceof
human life in the context of the cosmos?
But how are we to understand the being of this“universe which is dispersed
into numberless twinkling solarsystems?”Can it be understood withoutanyre-
lation to some sort of understanding?Berkeley’ sesse est percipiis not easilydis-
missed.Wemaybetempted to try to refuteBerkeley as SamuelJohnsondid, by
kicking some stone: Arewenot kicking something real, something that is?But
this, too, isaperception, aWahrnehmung,ataking for true. Philosophically
speaking, we seem to be kicking into thevoid. Andyetthe realist’sobjection
to the idealist willnot be dismissed.
Ialreadysuggested that when Heideggerinsists that thereisnoSeinwithout
Dasein, noBeing without human being,hedoes not seem sovery distantfrom
Berkeley’sidealism.Andthus we read inBeing andTime:
Ifwhat the term“idealism”says,amountstothe understandingthat Being can never be
explained by entities but is alreadythatwhich is‘transcendental’for every entity,then ide-
alism affords the onlycorrect possibilityforaphilosophical problematic. If so Aristotle was
no less an idealist thanKant(GA2,275;SZ,208).
But,asthe appeal to Aristotle is meant to suggest,this is not to saythat all
that is depends onahuman subject or consciousness.Onthis point Heidegger
sides withrealism. This ineliminable opposition of idealism and realism is an ex-
pression of whatIhavecalled the AntinomyofBeing.Itfindsstriking expression
in Schopenhauer:
For,“No object withoutasubject,” is the principle that renders all materialism forever im-
possible.Suns and planets with no eyetosee them and no understanding to know them
2Word and Thing 19

can of course be spoken of in words,but for the representation,thesewordsare asiderox-
ylon,anironwood. On the other hand, the lawofcausality,and the consideration and in-
vestigation of naturewhich follow on it,lead us necessarilytothe certain presumption that
each morehighlyorganized stateofmatter succeeded in timeacruder state.Thus animals
existed beforemen, fishes before land animals,plants before fishes,and the inorganic be-
forethatwhich is organic; consequently,the original mass had togothroughalong series
of changesbeforethe first eyecould be opened. Andyetthe existenceofthis wholeworld
remains forever dependent on that first eyethat opened,were it even that of an insect.⁴⁶
Our experience of the reality,the thingliness of things, is an experience of some-
thing to whichBeing,understood idealistically,cannot do justice.Itis an expe-
rience of whatIcall material transcendence.Such an experienceresists being
captured in concepts.Wetouch here the limits of our language, which are also
the limits of our conceptual space.
Let me return to the last twolines of the poem by Stefan George:
SoIrenounced and sadlysee:
Whereword breaks off, no thingmaybe.
Just what is it thatthe poet has to renounce?Awordless understandingofthe
being of things?But whydoes he call this lesson sad?The poem speaks of a
treasurethatrefuses to be grasped by the poet’shand.
Einst langt ich an nach guterfahrt
Mit einem kleinod reich und zart
OnceIreturned from happy sail,
Ihadaprize so rich and frail,
What is thisKleinod,this treasure, that will not be grasped or comprehended?Is
it the true being of things, their beingas thingsinthemselves?
Heideggercould havecited the Georgepoem alreadyinBeing andTime.Here
alreadyheunderstandsRede,speech, as one of the existentials,i.e., the funda-
mental structures constitutiveof human Dasein. The wordRedeHeideggerun-
derstandsasatranslation of the Greeklogos.As thezoon lógon échon,theanimal
rationale,the animal endowed with reason, the human being is the being in
which nature become conscious of itself, opens itselftoitself.And so Heidegger
calls the human being the clearingofBeing,thinking ofaforest clearing,using a
metaphor that suggests an open space into which light falls,ametaphor that in-
Arthur Schopenhauer,DieWelt alsWille undVorstellung,2vols. (Wiesbaden: Brockhaus,
1965). E.F.J.Payne (Trans.),TheWorld asWill and Representation,2vols.(NewYork: Dover,
1966),vol. 1, pp. 29–30.
20 IThe AntinomyofBeing

vites us to think of the“distance”that separates the Cartesian subjectand ob-
ject; alsoofthe Cartesianlumen naturale,the natural light.Does Descartes not
also relyonmetaphors, supported by the analogyofseeing and understanding
that has supported philosophicalthinkingfrom thevery beginning,evenashis
insistencethatphilosophicalthinkingbeclear and distinct would rid language
of its reliance on such metaphors?Resisting that demand Heideggermakes them
conspicuous,lets us stumble over them, inviting us to question what philosophy
alltoooftentakes for granted.
In order to be for us thingsmustfind their place in that open space Heideg-
gercalls the clearingofBeing.But such placement presupposes something like
coordinatesthat determine places.Wittgenstein speaks thus in hisTractatusof
logical space, in which all possiblethingsmust find their place. The coordinates
of this space are our concepts. In his dissertation andHabilitationsschriftHeideg-
gerspokeasimilar language. But justlikeWittgenstein, Heidegger,too, had to
recognize that,asVico and Herder alreadyknew,itisnot an abstract logic,
but our languagethat first opens up our world. And so he writes inBeing and
Time:
The intelligibility of Being-in-the-world–an intelligibilitywhichgoes withastate-of-mind
–expresses itself [aussprechen] as discourse[Rede]. The totality-of-significations of intelli-
gibility is put into words.Tosignifications words accrue. Butword-things do notgetsup-
plied with significations.
The wayinwhich discoursegets expressed [hinausgesprochen ]islanguage[Sprache]. Lan-
guageisatotality of words–atotality inwhich discourse has a‘worldly’Beingofits own;
and as an entity within the world, thistotality thus becomes somethingwhichwemay
comeacross as ready-to-hand. Languagecan be broken up intoword-thingswhich arepre-
sent-at-hand.Discourse is existentiallylanguage, because that entity whose disclosedness
it articulates according to significations,has,asits kind ofBeing, Being-in-the-world–a
Being which has been thrownand submitted to the‘world’(GA2,214;SZ, 161).
The differencebetweenaussprechenandhinaussprechenis lost in the transla-
tion, which uses“express”for both. But the latter suggestaspeaking that
sends the spoken, as an entity among entities, into the world:Die Rede ist exis-
tenzial Sprache,“Discourse is existentiallylanguage”–What would it meanto
denythis?Heidegger’simmediatelyfollowing explanation seems convincing.If
Dasein is essentiallyabeing-in-the-world, alsoabeingwith others,Rede
would seem to haveto be equallyessentiallySprache.The essence of language
is thentobeSprache.Rede(logos)should then not be construed asacoreores-
sence that could be reached by eliminating fromSpracheall thatisnot essential,
asWittgenstein attempted to do in hisTractatus.Comparethe claim“Discourse is
2Word and Thing 21

existentiallylanguage”with the analogous claim: Dasein is existentiallyembod-
ied.
But is Dasein adequatelyunderstood as being-in-the-world and as such es-
sentiallyembodied?Can Heidegger’sRede,his translation of the Greeklogos,
reallybesaidtobe existentiallySprache?Are we human beingsnot able to
raise ourselvesaboveour embodied selvesinawaythat allows us to oppose
an ideal languagetowhatever languagewehappen to speak, as theyoungWitt-
genstein,Russell, andFregeattempted, aBegriffsschrift,i.e.,aconceptual nota-
tion that would“break the domination of words over the human mind”⁴⁷?Isthis
power of self-elevation not constitutiveof human being?⁴⁸
Consider these words by Meister Eckhart:“YesterdayasIsatyonderIsaid
something thatsoundsincredible:‘Jerusalemisasnear tomysoul as this
place is.’Indeedapointathousand miles beyondJerusalem is as near tomy
soul asmybodyis, andIamassure of this asIamofbeing human, and it is
easy to understand for learned priests.”⁴⁹Tobe sure of beinghuman, Eckhart
claims, is to know that something in us, Eckhart calls it our soul, is not
bound by our body.Strangeasthe claim thatJerusalem is as close to me as
mybodymayseem, what allows Eckhart to saythis is nonetheless easy to under-
stand. WhenIthink ofJerusalemand Rome,isone city closertomythinking self
than the other?Closer in what sense? Is therenotasense in which all objects of
thoughtare equallyclosetothe thinker?Not onlyisJerusalem as closetothe
thinker as her bodyis, but so isaplaceathousand miles beyond, so indeed
is every place.FollowingPlato,Augustine had thus insisted that the soul
knows itselftobeathinking being and as suchaspiritual substance to be essen-
tiallydifferent from bodyand place. Descarteswas to speakofares cogitans.
How could suchasubstance, grasped in its essence onlyinamovement of in-
troversion, be saidtobe nearerone place than another?Meister Eckhart
would seemtobe quite in agreementwith the philosophical tradition when he
speaksofthe soul as exempt from the limitations imposed on us by our embod-
GottlobFrege,Begriffsschrift, eine der arithmetischennachgebildeteFormelsprache des reinen
Denkens(Halle: Louis Nebert,1879),S.Bauer-Mengelberg(Trans.),Concept Script,aformal lan-
guage of purethought modelled upon that of arithmetic,inJ.vanHeijenoort (Ed.),From Fregeto
Gödel:ASource Book inMathematical Logic, 1879–1931(Cambridge,MA: HarvardUniversity
Press, 1967), p.7.
See Theodor Litt,Mensch undWelt. Grundlinien einer Philosophie des Geistes(München:Fed-
ermann, 1948).
Meister Eckharts Predigten,Josef Quint (Ed. andTrans.),3vols.(Stuttgart:Kohlhammer,
1936–1976),“Adolescens, tibi dico:surge!”2:305.Meister EckhartRaymond B. Blakney (Ed.
andTrans.), (NewYork: Harper,1957), p. 134.Translation changed.
22 IThe AntinomyofBeing

ied existence: no matter how distant some place maybe, the soul can leaptoit
and beyond. HadPlato not alreadyattributed wingstothought?
Tobe sure, the embodied self will havedifficulty identifying with Eckhart’s
soul, just as it has difficulty recognizing itself in the Cartesianres cogitans.As
long asIunderstandmyself concretely,as this individual,Iunderstandmyself
as cast into the world, subject to place and time. Thus placed,Ialso know
thatmyvision and understandingremain bound by perspective.Onlytodisem-
bodied thought,onlytoapure“I”,would all thingsbeequallyclose.Icannot
recognizemyself in that“I.”Pure thought remains an elusiveideal. And so
doesapure languagethat would break the domination of words. But even if
we weretoreplaceHeidegger’slanguagewith aBegriffsschrift,words with con-
cepts,the dependence of the being of thingsonwords or concepts wouldgoun-
challenged.
Iconclude with the lastline of the poem by Stefan George:
Whereword breaks off, no thingmaybe.
Whydoes this saddenthe poet?Presupposed is the dream of an access to things
not mediated by anylanguage. George’spoem thus speakstosomething like a
dissatisfaction with, an ill will against language, this houseofBeing.Torepeat
the question: IsBeing reallyathome in thathouse?Orisitperhapsaprison?The
architectonic metaphor invites thought.Itspeakstoacertain reluctancetosur-
render all claim to that treasure, thatKleinod,of which the poem speaks.
2Word and Thing 23

II The Antinomy ofTruth
1The IllWillAgainst Language
AlreadyinPlato’sdialogues we meet with the suspicion thatour languagenot
onlyuncovers,but covers up things, that words fail us when we attempt to do
justicetothe being of things. That such anxiety should find expression especially
in poetic and philosophicaltexts from the first decades of the20
th
century invites
thought.In Georgeand Hofmannsthal, inWittgenstein and Heidegger,again and
again we meet withasense thatour languagehas somehowlet us lose touch
with reality,meet with the desire togainamoreimmediate access to things.
InHugovonHofmannsthal’sLetter of Lord Chandos(1902),aletter,supposed
to havebeen sent inAugust 1603 by this fictional English LordtoSirFrancis
Bacon, this anxiety is captured in extraordinarilyconvincing fashion.
The case of Hofmannsthal’sElizabethan Lordissimple:afigure of theAus-
trian poet,who, when stillateenager,had been celebrated asamasterofthe
German language, onlytobeassailed by Nietzschean doubts concerning the
power of languagetorevealreality,theyoung Lordwritesalettertohis well-in-
tentioned older friend, the scientistand philosopher SirFrancisBacon, in an at-
tempt to explain to this founderofour then just emerging modern world his de-
cisiontoabandon all literaryactivity.Atissue is the rift that theyoung poet’s
merelyaesthetic playwith words had opened up between languageandreality:
My case in short is this:Ihavelost completelythe ability to think ortospeak of anything
coherently.
AtfirstIgrewbydegrees incapable of discussingaloftier or moregeneral subject in terms
of which everyone, fluentlyand without hesitation, iswont toavailhimself.Iexperienced
an inexplicable distastefor so much as utteringthe words spirit,soul, or body.Ifound it
impossible to express an opinion on the affairs at Court,the events in Parliament,orwhat-
everyouwish. This was not motivated by anypersonal deference(foryouknow thatmy
candor borders on impudence) but because theabstractterms ofwhich the tonguemust
avail itself asamatter of course in ordertovoiceajudgment–theseterms crumbled in
mymouth like moldyfungi.⁵⁰
Likeacorroding rust this inabilitytouse words, because they havelosttouch
with what they supposedlyare about,spreads to ordinary language, which the
Lordexperiences increasinglyasindemonstrable, mendacious, hollow.Atfirst
HugovonHofmannsthal,“The Letter of Lord Chandos,” Selected Prose,Mary Hottinger and
Tania andJames Stern (Trans.), (NewYork: Pantheon,1952),134–135.
https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110629323-006

this distrust is directed onlytowardscertain lofty terms,which haveall but lost
touch with what they are supposed to say,words such as spirit,soul, body,hero,
virtue,courage, words thattoo often used and worn out now idle.
But do not all our words necessarilycover up the uniqueparticularity of
things, theirthingliness?Isour speakingnot first of all and most of the time
idle talk, as HeideggerunderstandsitinBeing andTime?Wesaywhat one
says inagiven situation without being much concernedwith what makes that
situation unique. Do not all our words lie, as theyoung Nietzsche argued in
“OnTruth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense”?⁵¹Ishall haveto return to thattext.
Not sovery different is how Hofmannsthal’sLordunderstands the insuffi-
ciency of language.
My mind compelled me to view all things occurring in such conversations fromanuncanny
closeness.Asonce, throughamagnifyingglass,Ihad seenapieceofskin onmylittle finger
look likeafield full of holes and furrows, soInow perceivedhuman beings and their ac-
tions.Ino longer succeeded in comprehendingthem with the simplifyingeyeof habit.For
me everythingdisintegrated intoparts, those parts again into parts;nolonger would any-
thinglet itself be encompassed in one idea. Single words floated roundme; they congealed
into eyes which stared back at me and into whichIwas forcedtostareback–whirlpools
which gavemevertigoand, reeling incessantly,led into thevoid.⁵²
But thevoid left by this disintegration is not completelymute. As languagegains
anautonomythat threatens to render it meaningless by losing contact withreal-
ity,aminimal, but intense contactwith beings is established. The tearingoflan-
guagebysilence grantsepiphanies of presence.
Sincethat timeIhavebeen leadinganexistencewhichIfearyoucan hardlyimagine, so
lackinginspirit and thought is its flow:anexistencewhich, it is true, differs little from that
ofmyneighbors,myrelations,and most of the landowning nobility of this kingdom, and
which is not utterlybereft of gayand stimulatingmoments.Itisnot easy for metoindicate
wherein thesegood moments subsist; onceagain words desert me.Foritis, indeed, some-
thingentirelyunnamed, even barelynameable which, at such moments,reveals itselfto
me, fillinglikeavessel anycasual object ofmydailysurroundingswith an overflowing
flood of higher life.Icannot expectyoutounderstand me without examples,andImust
IpreferWalterKaufmann’stranslation of the titletoDaniel Breazeale’s“OnTruth and Lie in
aNonmoral Sense,”although onlyBreazeale givesusacomplete translation of Nietzsche’sfrag-
ment,abbreviatedasTL,inPhilosophyand Truth: Selections From Nietzsche’sN otebooks of the
Early 1970’s(Atlantic Highlands:Humanities Press, 1979).
See alsoThePortableNietzsche,WalterKaufmann (Ed. andTrans.), (NewYork: Penguin
Books, 1954).
HugovonHofmannsthal,“The Letter of Lord Chandos,” Selected Prose,Mary Hottinger and
Tania andJames Stern (Trans.), (NewYork: Pantheon,1952).
1The Ill WillAgainst Language 25

pleadyour indulgencefor theirabsurdity.Apitcher,aharrowabandoned inafield,adogin
the sun,aneglectedcemetery,acripple,apeasant’shut–all these can become thevessel
ofmyrevelation. Each of these objectsandathousand others similar,overwhich the eye
usuallyglideswithanatural indifference, can suddenly,at anymoment (whichIamutterly
powerlesstoevoke), assume for meacharacter so exalted and movingthat words seem too
poortodescribe it.Eventhe distinct imageof anabsent object,infact,can acquire themys-
terious functionofbeingfilled to the brim with this silent but suddenlyrisingflood of di-
vine sensation. Recently,for instance,Ihad giventhe order foracopious supplyofrat-poi-
son to be scattered in the milk cellarsofone ofmydairy-farms.Towards eveningIhadgone
off foraride and, asyoucan imagine, thought no moreabout it.AsIwas trotting along
over the freshly-ploughed land, nothingmorealarminginsight thanascaredcoveyof
quail and, in the distance, the great sun sinkingoverthe undulating fields,there suddenly
loomed up beforemethe vision of that cellar,resoundingwith the death-struggle ofamob
ofrats.Ifelt everythingwithin me: the cool, musty air of the cellar filled with thesweet and
pungent reek of poison, and theyellingofthe death cries breakingagainst the moldering
walls;the vainconvulsions of those convolutedbodies as they tear about in confusion and
despair;their frenzied searchfor escape,and the grimaceoficyragewhenacouple collide
with one another atablocked-up crevice. Butwhyseek again for words whichIhavefore-
sworn!Youremember,myfriend, thewonderful description in Livy of the hours preceding
the destruction of Alba Longa:whenthe crowds strayaimlesslythrough the streets which
they aretosee no more…when they bid farewell to the stones beneath their feet.Iassure
you,myfriend,Icarried this vision within me, and the vision of burningCarthage,too; but
therewas more, somethingmoredivine, morebestial; and it was the Present,the fullest,
most exalted Present.There wasamother,surrounded by heryoung in theiragonyof
death; but hergaze was cast neither towardthedyingnor upon the merciless walls of
stone, but intothevoid, or through thevoid intoInfinity,accompanyingthis gaze with a
gnashingofteeth.–Aslavestruck with helpless terror standingnear the petrifying
Niobe must haveexperiencedwhatIexperienced when, within me, the soul of this animal
bareditsteethtoits monstrous fate.⁵³
In the most insignificant thingsthe Lordsenses the infinite:
Forgivethis description, but do not think that it was pityIfelt.For ifyoudid,myexample
would havebeen poorlychosen.Itwas far moreand far less than pity:animmense sym-
pathy,aflowingoverinto these creatures, orafeelingthat anauraof life and death, of
dream and wakefulness,had flowed foramoment intothem–but whence?Forwhat
had ittodo with pity,orwith anycomprehensible concatenation of human thought
when, on another evening,onfindingbeneathanut-treeahalf-filled pitcherwhichagar-
dener boy had left there, and the pitcher and the water in it,darkened by the shadow of the
tree, andabeetleswimmingonthe surfacefromshoretoshore, when this combination of
trifles sent through me suchashudder at the presenceofthe Infinite,ashudder running
from the roots ofmyhair to the marrow ofmyheels?What was it that made me wantto
break into words which,Iknow,wereItofind them, would forcetotheir knees those cher-
ubim in whomIdonot believe? What made me turn silentlyawayfromthis place? Even
Ibid., pp. 135–136.
26 II The Antinomy ofTruth

now,after weeks, catching sight of that nut-tree,Ipass it by withashysidelongglance, for I
am loathtodispel the memory of the miracle hoveringthere round the trunk, loath to scare
awaythe celestial shudders that still linger about the shrubberyinthis neighborhood!⁵⁴
With“ashudder running from the roots ofmyhair to the marrowofmyheels,”
theyoung Lordsenses the infinite:“What was it that made me want to break into
words which,Iknow,wereItofind them, would forcetotheir knees those cher-
ubim in whomIdonot believe?”And so they would!Forthe words for which the
Lordislongingwould know nothing of the rift separating reality and language.
The words of that languagewould be nothing other than the thingsthemselves.
But this is to say:they would haveto be the creativewords of that God in whom
neither the Lord, nor theyoung Hofmannsthal could believe. Nevertheless, the
idea of this divinelanguagefunctions here asameasure that renders our lan-
guageinfinitelyinadequate and condemns him who refuses to sullythe dream
of thatlanguagetosilence.
2Truth and Thing in Itself
Weknow how muchHugovonHofmannsthal owed Nietzsche.⁵⁵Especiallythe
Chandos Letter recalls Nietzsche’scritique of language.“Do not all our words
lie?”asks theyoung Nietzsche in his earlynever completed essay“OnTruth
and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense.”But what sense does this questionmake?
Most of the time we seemtohavelittle difficulty distinguishingtelling the
truth fromlying.Tolie is to make what the speaker knows to be an untrue state-
ment.Lyingisacontrast term:it presupposes an understandingofwhat it means
totell the truth. What then does Nietzsche mean by“truth”when he asks wheth-
er all our words lie?
“OnTruthand Lie” givesusaclear answer.
Thevarious languages placed side by side show that withwords it is neveraquestion of
truth, neveraquestion of adequateexpression; otherwise, therewould not be so manylan-
guages. The“thinginitself”which is preciselywhat the puretruth,apart from anyofits
consequences,would be, is likewise somethingquiteincomprehensible to the creatorof
languageand something not in the leastworth striving for.(TL 82)
Ibid., p. 137.
See LászlóV.Szabó,“ZuHugo vonHofmannsthals Nietzsche-Rezeption,”Jahrbuch der un-
garischen Germanistik,2006,pp.69–93.
2Truth and Thing in Itself27

The ideaofthe pure truth and the idea of the thing in itself are, accordingtothe
young Nietzsche, one and the same idea.Itis this understanding of truth as a
congruence of designations and things(TL 81) thatallows him to claim that
“tobe truthful means using the customary metaphors–in moralterms: the ob-
ligation to lie accordingtoafixed convention, to lie, herd-like, inastyle obliga-
tory for all.”⁵⁶
But is this not reason to reject what Nietzsche here calls“the pure truth?”As
Nietzsche well knows, the identification of the pure truth with the thing in itself
is difficult to squarewith our ordinary understanding of truth. Whycall the latter
alie? When onarainydayIsay“Itisraining today,”amInot tellingthe truth?
Consider thatpassageintheCritique ofPureReason(A58/B83), whereKant
calls the question,“What is truth?”“ the old and famous question”with which
one soughttogetlogicians into trouble, onlytodismiss it,writingthat“the nom-
inal explanation of truth, that is to say,that it is theagreement of knowledge
with its object,ishere taken for granted and presupposed,“wird hiergeschenkt
und vorausgesetzt.”Presupposed is an understanding of truth as correspond-
ence. And such an understanding of truth does indeed seemtoagree with the
wayweordinarilyunderstand truth, without giving the matter much thought.
Tobe sure, asKant recognized, we use“truth”in different senses.Kant thus dis-
tinguishedsuch“material (objective)truth”(A60/B85) from merelyformal or log-
ical truth, such as the truth of tautologies, and from the truth of aesthetic judg-
ments, such as“this rose is beautiful,”whereour understandingagrees with
how the object affects the subject.Inthis chapter we are concerned first of all
with the meaningand value of whatKant calls material or objectivetruth,
such as the truth of the judgment“Saturn has rings.”In nowaydoweclaim
here an identity of the assertion and what it asserts. What we do claim is that
the assertionstateswhattothe best of our knowledgeis the case.
Kant’sunderstanding of material or objectivetruth recalls the waytruth is
defined inatext that has not lost itsauthority:ThomasAquinas’DeVeritate.
Consider once moreAquinas’definition of truth as“the adequation of the
thing and the understanding”:Veritas est adaequatio rei et intellectus.⁵⁷Quite
inkeepingwith our everydayunderstanding,the definition claims that there
can be no truth wherethere is no understanding.But can there be understanding
without human beings?Does truth then depend on the existenceofhuman be-
ings?Aquinas,ofcourse, would haverejected suchasuggestion: the truth of our
FriedrichNietzsche“OnTruth and Lies in an Extra-Moral Sense,” ThePortable Nietzsche,
WalterKaufmann (Trans.), (Hamondsworth: Penguin, 1976), p.47.
ThomasAquinas,Questiones disputatae de veritate,q u.1,art.1.SeeHeidegger,Einführung in
die phänomenologischeForschung,(WS1923/24)GA17,162–194.
28 II The AntinomyofTruth

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the store, sent me to the safe for the cash-book.”

“I got the book, and gave it to him. Just then Mr. Longbrook, the
proprietor, came in, and asked Mr. Lingerwell for the four hundred
and fifty dollars which had been put in the safe the night before. I
saw the head man go to the safe, and then both he and his
employer seemed to be in great consternation.”
“Short words, or you never will finish,” interposed Dory.
“I did not know what the matter was, but Mr. Lingerwell used a
great many exclamations.”
“What did he do with them?”
“He uttered them, of course: what else could he do with them? If
you continue to interrupt with irrelevant questions, it will take me a
long time to tell the story,” replied Mr. Millweed impatiently. “I was
putting up goods near the desk, or I should not have noticed what
was going on. In a little while I heard enough to satisfy me that the
four hundred and fifty dollars was missing.
“Mr. Longbrook called me to the desk, and asked if I had been to the
safe. I told him I had taken the cash-book from the safe, as I had
been told to do. He looked me sharply in the eye. Mr. Lingerwell said
no one else had been to the safe since he opened it in the morning.
“I was sent back to my work, and the two men kept on talking about
the money. It was clear enough to me that I was suspected of taking
it, and I felt as though I was already in the State prison. I heard Mr.
Lingerwell say he was sure I had taken the money, for it was all right
when he opened the safe. I never was so terrified before in my life.
Hack Tungwell had told me he did not expect to keep his place much
longer: he might not return at all. If I pleased his employer, I might
get the situation.
“What I heard seemed to be the knell of all my hopes. I had done
my best to get a place, for my father sadly needs what little I could
earn. Then the two men talked in low tones for a while. Presently Mr.

Longbrook went out of the store. I was sure he had gone for an
officer to arrest me.
“The idea of being arrested and marched through the streets by a
constable was about as bad to me as being shot through the head.
When Mr. Lingerwell went to the back part of the store, I rushed out
at the front door.”
“You left!” exclaimed Dory with something like indignation in his
tones.
“I did: I was wholly unwilling to be dragged through the streets by
an officer.”
“That was worse than sinking the sloop in two hundred and fifty feet
of water. Do I understand you to say that you did not take the
money from the safe?” demanded Dory.
“Do I look like a thief?” asked Mr. Millweed, rising from his seat in
the standing-room in deep disgust; though he was immediately
thrown back again by the motion of the yacht.
“Never mind how you look: you acted just like a thief,” retorted Dory
warmly. “You don’t say yet that you didn’t take the money when you
went to the safe for the book.”
“I do say now, most emphatically, that I did not take the money
when I went to the safe for the cash-book, or at any other time. I
didn’t even know there was any money in the safe,” protested Mr.
Millweed very earnestly.
“That’s coming to the point; but you have done the best you could
to convince your employer and his head man that you did take it. I
advise you to go straight back to Burlington, and then straight to the
store, and face the music. If anybody says I stole any money, I want
to see the man that says so.”
“That would all be very well under ordinary circumstances,” pleaded
Mr. Millweed.

“It’s all very well under any circumstances.”
“I had a theory of my own.”
“I don’t care any thing about your theory: I say the way is to face
the music. If you had let them search you before you went out of
the store, you would have been all right. They would not have found
the money upon you, and you had had no chance to get rid of it.
Now they will say you buried it somewhere on the shore of the lake.”
“But I tell you I have a theory. I believe Tim Lingerwell took the
money himself. How easy it would have been for him to slip the
wallet, or the package, whatever it was, into my pocket when I was
not looking.”
“That thing has been done in a hundred and fifty novels and stories,
but it isn’t done every day in Burlington. If Tim Lingerwell wanted
the money bad enough to steal it, he wouldn’t put it into your
pocket.”
“He isn’t any too good to do such a thing. He and Hack belong in
Genverres; and people here wouldn’t trust either of them with a
pewter quarter,” argued Mr. Millweed.
“Perhaps you are right: I don’t know. You have given yourself away,
and made it look bad for you. If Tim Lingerwell took the money,
what did he do with it?”
“That’s more than I know. He has the care of the safe, and he and I
were the only persons who had been near it when Mr. Longbrook
came in for the money. I know I did not take it; and if I didn’t, he
did. That’s the whole of it.”
Dory believed his passenger had been a fool to run away; but,
without knowing why, he could not help believing that he was telling
the truth.
“Where did you get the sloop in which you came up the lake?” he
asked. “You said she did not belong to you.”

“She belongs to Sim Green, a friend of mine, who lives next door to
me. He was going down to Burlington to stay a few days with his
uncle. Money is a scarce article in our family, and I had none to pay
my fare by railroad. I was going to walk; but, at Sim’s invitation, I
went down in his sloop. When I left the store, I went down to the
boat, and got into it. Then I thought I would go home, and tell my
father and mother what had happened.”
“Then you took the boat without leave?”
“I knew Sim would not care, and he won’t come home before
Saturday. I meant to send it back before that time,” Mr. Millweed
explained.
“That may be all right; but Sim won’t thank you for taking it, when
he learns that she has gone down in two hundred and fifty feet of
water. Now, what is to be done?” asked Dory. “Will you go back to
Burlington, and face the music?”
“I don’t know what to do,” replied Mr. Millweed, evidently
overwhelmed with perplexity.
“I have told you what I would do if I were in your place,” added
Dory.
“Then I will go back; but I don’t want to be dragged into Burlington
by Tim Lingerwell,” replied Mr. Millweed, as he glanced at the steam-
launch.
“All right, if you will only go back. What makes you think Tim
Lingerwell took the money?” asked Dory.
“The more I think of it, the more certain I feel that he took the
money. Why should he call me from my work to get the cash-book
out of the safe for him, when he was within six feet of it? Why
should he send me to the safe at all, and leave it unlocked, when he
knew there was so much money in it? Why didn’t he search me
before Mr. Longbrook went out? He managed it all to suit himself,”
replied the passenger with energy.

Dory thought his passenger was right. If the head man in the store
believed the substitute clerk had taken the money from the safe, he
could not see why he had been permitted to leave the store.
“Did they chase you in the street after you left the store?” asked
Dory, who was rather inclined to do a little detective business on his
own account, as he had had a taste of it during the summer.
“No one chased me. I did not see any one from the store. I was off
Split Rock when I first saw the launch, but I didn’t know Tim was in
her till just before he ran into the sloop. The moment I heard his
voice, I understood it all; but I did not know enough about a boat to
get out of the way.”
“I don’t believe you did, or you would not have sunk that sloop. The
wonder is, that you got as far as you did without capsizing her.”
“I hoisted the sail, and let her go. The wind was fair, and all I had to
do was to keep her away from the shore. She frightened me out of
my wits two or three times when the waves were high.”
“With this breeze we can run away from that steam-launch. If you
like, I will take you back to Burlington, after I have told my mother
where I am going.”
“I should like that very much,” replied Mr. Millweed.
“But we can’t run away from the steamer beating down the lake,
and we must dodge her in some way,” suggested Dory.
“I will do just as you say, Dory; and I begin to see what an idiot I
was to run away, though I still think Tim Lingerwell had some plan
to trip me up,” added the passenger.
Dory had already decided upon his plan of operations. The steamer
was on the wrong side of him: he wished he was below instead of
above her; for he wanted to run into Beaver River, which he could
not do on the open lake without encountering his pursuer.

His southerly course had by this time brought him near the east
shore of the lake. The steam-launch was all of half a mile distant.
From the mouth of the river a shoal extends a mile out into the lake,
and over a mile to the southward. Dory struck this shallow water at
its southern extremity.
The deepest water is near the shore, and the skipper followed it.
The launch continued on her former course for a while, and then
stopped her screw. Tim Lingerwell at the wheel was perplexed; but
Dory found his way across the shoal, and entered the river. Then the
launch went around the shoal, and continued the chase.

[Top]
CHAPTER IV.
THE GOLDWING ANCHORS FOR THE NIGHT.
As soon as the Goldwing was fairly in the river, Dory found the wind
was light compared with what it had been on the open lake. But the
skipper had made up his mind that his passenger should not be
taken out of the boat: his plan for another movement was ready.
“She is catching us, and I might as well make up my mind to go
back to Burlington in the Juniper;” for that was the name of the
steam-launch. “I believe Tim Lingerwell has that money in his pocket
at this minute; for he probably has had no chance to get rid of it,”
said Mr. Millweed in utter despondency.
“You can make up your mind any way you please; but, if you don’t
want to go with him, you needn’t. If you will do as I say, I will land
you in Burlington to-night,” replied Dory, as the yacht passed the
narrow neck of land between the river and Porter’s Bay.
“I will do just as you tell me, Dory; for I know you are capable of
doing big things.”
“It won’t be a very big thing, but we can dodge the Juniper a great
deal easier than you can go to bed without your supper. I shall make
a landing at the cross-cut. You will go on shore, and follow the path
until you get to the other side of the woods. Then take the other
path to the river, and strike it half a mile above the landing.”

“What is all that for?” asked Mr. Millweed, perplexed by the
instructions.
“You do just as I tell you, and ask no questions. I will be responsible
for the result.”
“All right: I will do so. But I might as well go home, for I shall be
half-way there when I get to the other side of the woods.”
“If you go home, Tim Lingerwell will find you there. He will think you
have gone home; and that is just what I want him to think,” said
Dory, as he made the landing at the cross-cut, which was a short
way to reach the northern outskirts of the town.
“I will do just what you say, Dory.”
“Very well; but don’t be in a hurry. Wait till the Juniper gets a little
nearer, so that Tim can see you. Then start off as though you meant
business.”
They had not long to wait, for the steam-launch had been gaining
rapidly on the yacht since they entered the river. When she was near
enough to enable those on board of her to see just what was done,
Mr. Millweed leaped ashore, and ran with all his might.
“Stop him! Don’t let him go!” shouted the helmsman of the Juniper.
“He is a thief! He has been stealing a large sum of money!”
“I am not a constable,” answered Dory quietly. “I pulled him out of
deep water, and brought him ashore. If you want him, you can take
him.”
Tim Lingerwell rang his bell, and the engine stopped. He ran her up
to the shore, carrying her bow line to a post, as he leaped upon the
bank.
“What did you let him go for?” demanded Tim, turning to Dory, who
had also landed.

“It’s none of my business where he goes,” replied Dory. “This is a
free country.”
“But I told you he had been stealing. Come, Greeze, we must catch
him. He lives up this way; and we shall find him at home, if we don’t
catch him before he gets there.”
The engineer abandoned his machine, and the two men started off
on a run in the direction taken by the fugitive. But Mr. Millweed had
a good start, and the wood concealed him from his pursuers.
As soon as they were out of sight, Dory took a survey of the Juniper.
He had often seen her before, though he had never been on board
of her; and he improved the present opportunity to do so. He made
a more careful examination of her than a mere inspection seemed to
require. Like Mr. Millweed, he had a theory. He looked into all the
lockers, and even examined the space under the ceiling as far as he
could get at it.
Just as he was beginning to think his theory was entirely at fault, he
drew out a large pocket-book, which seemed to be well filled with
something. He opened it, and found that it contained a large pile of
bank-bills. Mr. Millweed’s theory was correct: Tim Lingerwell had had
no opportunity to dispose of the money, and he had put it where he
supposed no mortal could possibly find it.
Mr. Bolingbroke Millweed’s honesty was demonstrated. Dory had
been right in trusting him. It was a great satisfaction to him to find
that he had judged his passenger correctly. But Tim Lingerwell was
quite as big a fool as Mr. Millweed; and the same might be truly said
of any person who commits a robbery.
Dory took the money from the pocket-book, and put it into his hip-
pocket. He put a portion of a newspaper into the place from which
he had taken the bills, so as to make the pocket-book look as it had
before its valuable contents had been removed. Then he placed it
under the ceiling precisely as he had found it. His business on board

of the Juniper was finished, and he hastened to get the Goldwing
under way again.
Mr. Millweed had faithfully followed his instructions, and was on the
bank of the river above the woods. The passenger leaped on board
when the bow touched the shore.
“Did you see them, Dory?” asked Mr. Millweed, greatly excited.
“Of course I saw them. They landed where you did, and started off
at a dead run after you. Lingerwell said you had gone home; and
they expect to find you there,” replied Dory, as he headed the yacht
on her course up the river again.
“They won’t find me there,” added the passenger, chuckling at the
success of Dory’s plan. “But won’t they find us at Beech Hill if you go
there?”
“It will be two hours before they get back to the Juniper again, and
then they won’t know where to look for you. We are all right.”
Dory did not go into Beech-Hill Creek, which led to the lake in the
rear of the mansion of Captain Gildrock, but continued on his course
till he came to the river-road, on which the estate was located. At
this point he made a landing; and, leaving his charge in the boat, he
hastened to the house.
Dory found his mother and sister in the garden. As briefly as he
could, he told the story of his passenger, and announced his
intention of going to Burlington at once. As he did so, they walked to
the house, where Mrs. Dornwood put up a heavy lunch for her son.
The skipper showed the money he had taken from the Juniper, to
prove his statement; but this was a secret she was not to reveal to
any person at present.
Mrs. Dornwood volunteered to call upon the Millweeds, and inform
them of the true state of the case; for the visit of Tim Lingerwell was
likely to give them much trouble and anxiety before the whole truth
came out.

With the large lunch-basket and his overcoat, Dory hastened back to
the place where he had left the Goldwing. He found his passenger in
a very nervous and troubled frame of mind, fearful that Tim
Lingerwell might pounce upon him while he was waiting for the
skipper. He re-assured him by his confident words, and they
embarked without losing a moment.
“It is a little more than an hour since we left the steamer; and
Lingerwell may see us as we go down the river, though I don’t think
he has got back yet,” said Dory, when the yacht was under way.
“Why not wait here until after the Juniper has started?” suggested
Mr. Millweed.
“We should have to wait all night, I think; for I don’t believe
Lingerwell will go back without you,” replied Dory.
“But you have to sail back to Burlington with the wind against you:
the Juniper will be sure to catch us,” added Mr. Millweed anxiously.
“I am willing to take the chances; and, whatever happens to us, I
will promise that you shall be all right when you have faced the
music,” answered Dory, keeping a sharp lookout ahead for the
steam-launch.
“All right: you have carried me through so far, and I will trust you to
the end. You saved my life; and I shall never cease to be grateful to
you, even if you do nothing more for me,” said the passenger with
more feeling than he had before exhibited.
As the yacht approached the place where the fugitive had landed,
Dory saw that the Juniper was still there. As the skipper was obliged
to beat a portion of the distance down the river, he made a tack
within twenty feet of her.
“Hold on, there!” shouted a voice from her; but it was not that of
Lingerwell.

At the same moment a man rose from the bottom of the launch. He
proved to be Greeze, the engineer. The pilot had evidently sent him
back to attend to the boat.
“We will see you in Burlington,” replied Dory, with abundant good
nature, when he was satisfied that Lingerwell was not on board of
her.
“We want that thief!” yelled Greeze.
“You will take him down to Burlington with you when you go.”
Doubtless this answer perplexed the engineer; but the yacht passed
out of hailing-distance, and no explanation was practicable. After
going around the bend of the river, the Goldwing could lay her
course for the lake, close-hauled.
“The engineer has left the boat again,” said Mr. Millweed, just before
the yacht reached the bend. “Where do you suppose he is going
now?”
“He is going to find Lingerwell, and tell him that you have gone
down the river. But he may not find him for two hours. Of course he
is moving about looking for you. Very likely he will go to my uncle’s
house to inquire for me, though he will not be any the wiser for his
visit. But I feel as though it was about supper-time,” continued Dory,
as he consulted the watch his uncle had given him on his last
birthday. “It is quarter-past six.”
“I have the same sort of a feeling; for I had no dinner to-day, and
took my breakfast at six this morning,” added Mr. Millweed.
“Why didn’t you say so before? You might have been working your
jaws from the time we left the shore-road,” said Dory, as he handed
the lunch-basket to his passenger. “Help yourself, and I will feed as
the helm gives me time.”
Mr. Millweed showed that he had an appetite by the time the
Goldwing reached the lake. As the sun went down, the wind died

out, though not till the schooner had passed Split Rock.
“I am afraid we shall not get to Burlington to-night; for we can’t go
without wind,” said Dory, when the breeze had nearly deserted
them.
“Then I am sure to be caught,” added the passenger.
“Not at all: don’t give it up.”
Dory kept the boat moving a mile farther; and then came to anchor
inside of Cedar Island, where the masts of the Goldwing could not
be seen from the lake. At the skipper’s suggestion, the passenger
turned in, and went to sleep.

[Top]
CHAPTER V.
A QUARREL ON BOARD OF THE JUNIPER.
Dory had put on his overcoat, and gone to sleep on the cushions of
the standing-room. The jib had been lowered, but the fore and main
sails were still set. The skipper had passed the main-sheet around
his arm, so that any motion of the sail would wake him. This signal
disturbed him about eleven by jerking him off the seat upon the
floor of the standing-room.
The wind had begun to come in fresh between Garden Island and
Thompson’s Point, indicating that its direction was from the south-
west. It was fair for Burlington; but, before he got up the anchor, he
listened attentively for any sounds that might come from the open
lake, for he had a suspicion that he heard something.
A moment later he was confident that he heard the puff of steam
from the escape-pipe of a steamer. It was cloudy, and the night was
dark. He looked out between the islands and the mainland, but he
could see nothing. The sounds came nearer for a time: then they
ceased for a few minutes, and were followed by a splash in the
water. He was satisfied that a steamer had anchored at no great
distance from Cedar Island.
The skipper’s nap had refreshed him, and he was not inclined to
sleep while there was wind enough to move the schooner. Very likely
the steamer which had anchored was the Juniper. Probably Tim
Lingerwell realized that the Goldwing could not sail without wind;

and he was afraid he might pass her if he continued on his course.
Doubtless he suspected that she had put in behind some island.
Dory got up the anchor, hoisted the jib, and, with the wind on the
beam, stood off to the north-west. He had no doubt the steamer he
had heard was the Juniper. The noise of her screw, and the puff of
her escape-pipe, indicated that she was a very small craft. He
concluded that Tim Lingerwell would keep a sharp lookout for him,
and he expected to be chased as soon as he passed the island.
When he could see between the two islands, he discovered a light,
which marked the position of the Juniper. The Goldwing passed
within a quarter of a mile of her; but the wind was coming quite
fresh from the south-west, and Dory thought that he could take care
of himself and his sleeping passenger.
Though it was very dark, the skipper had not deemed it prudent to
light one of his lanterns; for it would be sure to betray his presence.
As the yacht continued silently on her course, Dory heard the sound
of voices in the direction of Garden Island, behind which he could
see the Juniper’s light.
It was evident that the pursuers were not asleep. Dory listened with
all his might, for he was deeply interested in what was taking place
on board of the steam-launch. It seemed to him that the captain and
engineer were talking a great deal louder than the occasion
required. As they were in the same craft, it was hardly necessary for
them to yell at each other. After he had listened a while, Dory
thought the tones of the speakers were angry and even violent.
The skipper brought the Goldwing up into the wind, for a short
distance farther would carry the yacht out of sight of the Juniper. He
listened again; and the tones of the crew of the steam-launch were
more violent than before. What was the matter? There was clearly a
quarrel in progress between the captain and the engineer. As the
voices became louder and more forcible, the disputants were plainly
approaching a crisis in the quarrel.

“Help! Help! Murder!” yelled one of the angry men; and Dory was
confident it was the voice of the engineer.
The skipper of the Goldwing did not wait to hear any more, or to
speculate upon the cause of the difficulty on board of the Juniper.
Hauling in his sheets, he filled away on the starboard tack. The
schooner could just lay her course for the steamer’s light. It looked a
little like a stormy time ahead, and Dory decided to call his
passenger.
Leaving the helm for a moment, he went to the cabin forward; and a
sharp word roused Mr. Millweed from his slumbers. Hastening back
to the helm, he seized the tiller before the schooner had time to
broach-to. At that moment the cry from the steamer was repeated,
though it was fainter than before.
“What’s the matter, Dory?” asked Mr. Millweed, as he rushed into the
standing-room. “Didn’t I hear a yell just now?”
“If you are not deaf, you did,” replied Dory, still gazing at the
steamer’s light. “There is a row on board of the Juniper. The
engineer is shouting for help.”
“What does it all mean?” inquired the passenger anxiously.
“I don’t know what it means, but I am going up there to find out.”
“Do you think it is safe to go near them?” inquired Mr. Millweed.
“I don’t know whether it is safe or not; but men don’t yell murder in
the middle of the night without some good reason.”
“What can be the meaning of it?” asked the fugitive, evidently
believing that the skipper ought to be able to tell him all about it.
“You can guess as well as I can, Bolly,” answered Dory. “Tim and the
engineer are the only persons on board of the Juniper, and the
quarrel must be between them. That’s all I know about it. But, if we

are going to take a hand in this fight, we had better have some sort
of weapons.”
“You don’t mean to take a hand in any fight, do you, Dory?” asked
Bolingbroke, not a little alarmed at the announcement.
“Not if I can help it; but I don’t mean to let Lingerwell kill his
companion, without putting a finger in the pie. Go to the cabin, and
bring out the long tiller. You will find it under the berth you slept in.”
“But I don’t like the idea of getting into a fight with such a fellow as
Tim Lingerwell,” protested Bolingbroke, without heeding the request.
“I don’t care whether you like it or not. It is plain enough that we
ought to do something when a man is trying to kill another. Bring
out the tiller!”
Mr. Millweed obeyed the order this time. Dory took the tiller, and
placed it at his side, where it would be ready for use if the occasion
should require.
“There is a round stick by the centre-board casing. You had better
have that in your hand, for you may want to defend yourself before
we get through with this business. I don’t know what the quarrel is
about; but we are likely to find out very soon,” added Dory.
“Help! Help! Murder!”
“There it is again!” exclaimed the skipper, not a little excited by this
time.
“It’s awful, isn’t it, Dory?” added Bolingbroke, his teeth chattering
with terror at the terrible sounds that were borne over the dark
waters.
“Juniper, ahoy!” screamed Dory, forming a speaking-trumpet with his
two hands. “What’s the matter?”
No reply came back in answer to the question. Just then Dory began
to wonder whether or not these cries were not a trick to call the

Goldwing out from her hiding-place. The wind had just breezed up;
and Tim Lingerwell might fear that the fugitive would escape him,
after all his labor and pains to capture him.
He thought enough of the idea to mention it to his passenger.
Bolingbroke was ready to adopt the opinion that it was a trick: he
was ready to adopt any thing rather than go near the Juniper,
whether there was a fight or not on board of her.
“Of course it is a ruse to get you out of your hiding-place,” said he
with energy. “I thought of that myself.”
“If the wind hadn’t just breezed up, I should not have thought of
such a thing,” added Dory, still musing upon the point; for he did not
like the idea of having his passenger taken from the Goldwing by a
trick.
On the other hand, it was possible, perhaps probable, that the two
men had fallen out, and come to blows. Dory knew that Lingerwell
was a bad man, and it is always easy for such men to make trouble.
Strange as it may seem, the skipper did not connect the large sum
of money in his hip-pocket with the quarrel on board of the Juniper.
He did not even think of the bills he had taken from the steam-
launch in the absence of her crew.
“I wouldn’t go near her, Dory,” argued Bolingbroke. “I hope you
won’t step into the trap Tim has set for you to fall into.”
“I am not afraid of Tim Lingerwell, and I am going over there to see
if any thing is the matter. We will be a little cautious about
approaching the steamer.”
“But you can’t run away from her if you find it is only a trick,”
reasoned Bolingbroke.
“We must take our chances,” replied Dory.
By this time the Goldwing was entering the passage between Cedar
and Garden Islands. The Juniper was close to the shore, and the

islands were about the eighth of a mile apart. The wind was
freshening every minute; and Dory decided to run by the steamer,
going as near as it was prudent to go.
He could still hear the voices of the two men, though their tone had
greatly changed. The skipper saw that the steamer was still at
anchor, for she had swung around with her head to the wind. He
was satisfied, by this fact, that the call for help was not a trick: if it
had been, the Juniper would have been under way by this time.
“Juniper, ahoy!” called Dory, as the Goldwing came up with the
launch. “What is the matter on board?”
“Nothing is the matter. Greeze has had the nightmare, and shouted
murder in his sleep,” replied Lingerwell, trying to laugh it off, though
the effort was a very sickly one.
“Help! help!” shouted the engineer from the other end of the boat.
“He don’t seem to have got over his nightmare yet,” added Dory.
—“What is the matter there? What ails you?” demanded the skipper.
“Lingerwell has nearly killed me: he says I stole his money while he
was after the Millweed fellow,” replied Greeze.
“Shut up, you stupid blockhead! Silence! Don’t say another word
about it, and we will fix up the matter,” said Lingerwell in a
wheedling tone, as though he would have given something
handsome to have sealed the lips of the engineer.
“I won’t shut up! I have been insulted and abused; and I will have
satisfaction if it costs me my life. I didn’t take your money. I didn’t
know you had any,” growled Greeze, moving aft.
This explanation on the part of the engineer enabled Dory to
understand the nature of the quarrel between the two men. When
the Juniper had anchored, Lingerwell had evidently taken the
pocket-book from its hiding-place, and found that worthless paper
had been put in the place of the four hundred and fifty dollars. As he

was not aware that Dory, or any other person, had been on board,
he naturally concluded that the engineer must have robbed him of
his ill-gotten money.
Dory had come up into the wind under the lee of the Juniper. The
lantern hung on a stanchion in the after part of the steamer, so that
the skipper of the Goldwing and his passenger could see what took
place on board of her. The engineer had no sooner reached the
place where Lingerwell stood, than he leaped upon him with the fury
of a tiger.

[Top]
CHAPTER VI.
THE IMPULSIVE ASSAULT OF THE ENGINEER.
The engineer was evidently suffering under the humiliation of his
former defeat; and now he was seeking to satisfy his revengeful
feelings rather than gain any point, for Lingerwell had offered to “fix
up the matter.” His onslaught was so sudden and unexpected that
Lingerwell was borne down beneath him.
Dory was wise enough to see, on the instant, that the impulsive
attack of the engineer was a great mistake; but it was too late to
correct it. In this case his sympathies were not “with the bottom
dog;” for the engineer had the right on his side, in spite of his
blunder.
The skipper of the Goldwing felt called upon to take a hand in the
conflict; and, when Lingerwell was about to shake off his opponent,
he went to the assistance of the latter. The engineer had thrown his
man upon his face, and he was in the act of turning over when Dory
put his knees on the back of the fallen one.
“Put your foot on his back, and grab one of his hands!” exclaimed
Dory, as he grasped an arm.
“I can hold him! He tried to kill me, and I will get even with him!”
gasped Greeze.
“Don’t hurt him,” added Dory.
“I will pay him off for what he did to me!” cried the engineer.

“If you strike him, or kick him, I will leave at once!” added Dory
decidedly. “We can hold him, and keep him from harming you
again.”
“He abused me, and I will get even with him,” replied Greeze, a little
mollified by the threat of Dory; for he saw that he could not manage
the steamer alone.
“Don’t harm him: the law will punish him,” continued Dory. “Bolly.”
The passenger in the Goldwing had been looking on with no little
surprise and terror, and had not ventured upon the deck of the
Juniper. Possibly he was too much alarmed to realize that the tables
had been turned.
“What is it, Dory?” he responded to the call.
“Bring me the rope that lies under the tiller.”
Bolingbroke found the line, and carried it to the skipper; but he was
careful not to go too near the fallen tiger, for such he had proved to
be to him. Dory took the line, and succeeded in making it fast to the
arm of Lingerwell.
“What are you about, you young villain? Do you mean to tie my
hands?” demanded the fallen man.
“That’s the idea exactly,” replied Dory, as he attempted to pass the
line around the arm held by the engineer.
Lingerwell had been quiet for a minute after Dory took hold of him,
but the idea of being captured and tied up like a felon was too much
for him. With a series of heavy oaths, he made a desperate effort to
shake off his assailants. The engineer meant business, though the
direction of the assault had been taken out of his hands by the new-
comer. He lay down upon his victim, and jammed his knees into the
small of his back, so that escape was impossible. Dory passed the
line around the other wrist of the conspirator, and the two were
securely bound together behind him.

“He is all right now, and cannot harm anybody,” said Dory. “Get
another line, and we will secure his feet.” Bolingbroke brought the
rope, for by this time he could see that his great enemy was
powerless.
Dory fastened the feet of Lingerwell together, and then turned him
on his side, so that he could be more comfortable. Again the victim
struggled to loose himself; but Dory had done his work well, and he
could produce no impression upon the rope.
“This is an outrage!” yelled he, furious with passion.
“I suppose it isn’t an outrage to try to kill a man,” replied Dory, as he
took the lantern and examined the fastenings he had put on the
prisoner.
“I didn’t try to kill him! That is all nonsense!” replied Lingerwell,
suspending his struggles.
“We won’t argue the matter now,” replied Dory, walking to the
forward part of the boat.
He was followed by the engineer, who seemed to be desirous to
explain the affair. Doubtless he was grateful for the service the boy
had rendered to him, and looked upon the skipper of the Goldwing
as his friend.
“You are a plucky boy, Dory,” said Greeze, when they reached the
wheel, near the bow of the boat. “But I think I could have handled
that fellow alone.”
“It is very strange that you should get into a quarrel out here in the
middle of the night,” added Dory.
“It wasn’t a quarrel of my making; and, if he hadn’t taken me when
I was not thinking of such a thing, the boot would have been on the
other leg. He’s bigger than I am, but I can handle him if I have fair
play.”

“How did you happen to get into such a row?”
“I stopped the boat when we reached this place, and then let go the
anchor, at Lingerwell’s order. When I went forward, I found him on
the floor, feeling about under the ceiling. I didn’t know what he was
doing; and he didn’t care to have me know, for he told me to go aft
and bank the fire in the furnace. I did so, and when I got through I
went forward again. Lingerwell was at the lantern, looking over what
was in a big pocket-book he had in his hands.”
“Had he said any thing about a pocket-book before?” asked Dory.
“Not a word. When I got to him, he looked as though he was very
nervous and excited. He poked the pocket-book over, and then
fished his pockets all through. I asked him what the matter was. He
said he had dropped his pocket-book on the floor, some time during
the day; he didn’t know when. He had just found it; but the money
had all been taken out, and a piece of newspaper put in its place to
swell it out.”
“Did he say how much money was in it?” inquired Dory.
“He said there was a good deal in it, but he didn’t tell me how
much.”
“Did he say there was a hundred dollars or more?”
“He didn’t say a word about it. He kept getting more excited, and at
last he said I must have taken the money from the pocket-book. I
answered, that I didn’t do it: I hadn’t seen his pocket-book, and
didn’t know he had any money with him. On that he got mad, and I
was as mad as he was.
“We had a long jaw about it, and then he pitched into me. He got
me by the throat before I knew what he was about. He put me
down, and then tried to fish my pockets. I yelled for help, for I
thought he would kill me. I hardly knew what I did; but I shook him
off, and we had another savage jaw about it. Then he pitched into

me again. He had a club in his hand; and I think he would have
used it on me, if he hadn’t heard you yell just at this time.”
“I hoped my hail would let him know there was some one at hand,
though it was only a boy,” added Dory.
“That was what made him let up on me. Then he tried to smooth it
over; but I never was treated like that before, and I meant to have it
out with him.”
“Well, here we are; and what is to be done next?” asked Dory.
“We were waiting down here to catch that Millweed fellow that stole
the money from the safe,” replied Greeze.
“He says he didn’t take the money from the safe, and he is going
back to Burlington to face the music.”
“We might as well go along then: we haven’t any more business up
here. You can steer the Juniper, and we will tow the Goldwing,”
suggested the engineer. “I don’t know how this thing is coming out,
but I am ready to go to Burlington. I suppose Lingerwell will have
me discharged after this, but I don’t care for that. You have tied him
hand and foot, and I don’t know what you mean by that. I meant to
take what I owed him out of his hide.”
“I tied him to keep him from pitching into you again. I want to see
Mr. Longbrook as soon as we get to Burlington; and he can do what
he likes with him,” replied Dory. “We will start for Burlington as soon
as you are ready.”
When the excitement was over, Bolingbroke Millweed had returned
to the Goldwing, and to his berth in the cabin, where he was now
fast asleep. The engineer replenished his fire, and in half an hour
the Juniper was under way. At four o’clock in the morning she was at
her wharf in Burlington. The Goldwing was made fast alongside of
her. It was nearly daylight, and it would be quite by the time Dory
could reach the residence of Mr. Longbrook.

Bolingbroke was roused from his slumbers in the cabin, but he
objected to calling upon the storekeeper at so early an hour in the
morning. Dory did not care for his opinion, and insisted upon going
without any delay. Greeze was to keep watch over Lingerwell until he
heard from Dory, and Mr. Longbrook was to decide what was to be
done with the prisoner.
The house of the storekeeper was easily found. It was about five by
this time, and the early visitors saw that the people were up. To
Dory’s inquiry for the head of the family, the servant said he had
gone to the store. He had staid there till midnight the night before,
and had left the house as soon as it was light.
Dory was not a little astonished at this severe devotion to business;
but he hastened to the store, and found Mr. Longbrook was busy
over his books. He had locked himself in, but he opened the door in
answer to the skipper’s vigorous knocks.
“I am too busy to see any one now,” said the storekeeper
impatiently. “Come at nine o’clock, and I will see you.”
“This young man wants to see you at once,” added Dory, pulling
Bolingbroke into the doorway.
“What, Millweed! So you have come back, young man,” added Mr.
Longbrook, as he recognized his late assistant.
“I have come back to tell you, sir, that I did not take the money from
your safe,” stammered Bolingbroke.
“What did you run away for, then?” demanded the merchant
severely.
“Because I was a fool and was frightened. I found that Mr.
Lingerwell was determined to convict me, guilty or innocent; and I
had not the courage to stay and see it out,” replied Bolingbroke
honestly.

“You lost four hundred and fifty dollars from your safe, Mr.
Longbrook,” interposed Dory.
“That was just the amount taken, and this young fellow took it. It
looks as though he came to work here at this time for the purpose of
getting it, and he left as soon as he had the money,” said the
merchant angrily. “What have you done with the money, you young
rascal?”
“I have not had it, I have not seen it,” protested Bolingbroke.
“Don’t tell me that! No one else could have taken it. You and
Lingerwell were the only two persons who went to the safe.”
“Possibly Mr. Lingerwell took it himself,” suggested Dory.
Mr. Longbrook knit his brows into a frown, and turned away as
though he was thinking of something. Doubtless he was considering
whether or not it was possible that his trusted head man could have
done such a deed.
“At any rate here is the money,” added Dory, pulling the roll of bills
from his pocket.
The merchant opened his eyes very wide, and so did Mr. Bolingbroke
Millweed.

[Top]
CHAPTER VII.
BOLINGBROKE MILLWEED OUT OF A PLACE.
Mr. Longbrook took the bills, and a smile of satisfaction overspread
his troubled face. He looked at Dory with astonishment, and then
glanced from him to Bolingbroke. The latter was quite as much
surprised as the owner of the four hundred and fifty dollars.
Dory had not given a hint to his companion or to the engineer that
he had the money. He had concealed the fact from prudential
motives. He had told his mother all about it, but he was not inclined
to lead either of his associates in the boat into temptation.
“I see,” said Mr. Longbrook, nodding his head at Dory. “Your friend
has concluded to give up the money, and expects me to say nothing
more about it.”
“I never saw the money before; and I didn’t know till this minute
that Dory had it,” protested Bolingbroke earnestly.
“He tells the exact truth,” added Dory. “Neither he nor any one but
my mother, who is at Genverres, knew that I had the money. I think
you had better hear the whole story, and then you can judge for
yourself.”
Mr. Longbrook was quite willing to hear the story, for he was deeply
interested by this time. He asked Dory and his companion into the
store, and locked the door again. Bolingbroke gave his part of the
narrative first, and Dory finished it out.

“I believed Bolingbroke told me the truth; and I accepted Mr.
Lingerwell’s statement that one of the two must have stolen the
money,” said Dory. “When the skipper and engineer left the Juniper
to catch my passenger, I looked the steamer over, and found the
pocket-book. I put the piece of newspaper into the place where I
took out the bills, hoping that Mr. Lingerwell would suppose he had
the bills until he got to Burlington.”
Then followed the skipper’s account of the quarrel on board of the
Juniper, which confirmed Dory’s statement. It was as clear to the
merchant as it was to Dory, that the head man had stolen the
money.
“Where is Lingerwell now?” asked Mr. Longbrook.
“He is on board of the Juniper, tied hand and foot; and the engineer
is keeping guard over him. He did not know I had been on board of
the Juniper in his absence; and he was sure that Greeze must have
taken the money from the pocket-book, and put the newspaper in its
place. You can do what you like with him.”
“I knew that man was a villain!” exclaimed Bolingbroke when Dory
had finished his explanation. “I saw why I was sent to the safe for
the cash-book, when it was almost within reach of his hands; and
that was one of my reasons for running away. I was a fool, but I was
frightened.”
“I wish I had known that Lingerwell was a rascal a little sooner.
Since he went after this young man yesterday, I have been
examining my books. I am satisfied that he has robbed me of
hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. I can see just how he has
done it. Now we will go down and see him, and we will have a
warrant for his arrest.”
By this time it was seven o’clock, and the merchant departed for the
warrant and the officer to serve it. Dory and Bolingbroke went with
him. As they passed the Van Ness House, Dory was not a little
surprised to see his uncle standing at the entrance of the hotel with

quite a little crowd of boys. The skipper counted ten of them, and he
wondered if they were to be pupils in the Beech-Hill Industrial
School.
“You are here in good time, Theodore,” demanded Captain Gildrock,
as he recognized his nephew.
“I came up on a little business, uncle,” replied Dory.
“Very important business it was to me, Captain Gildrock,” added Mr.
Longbrook. “I am under very great obligations to him.”
The breakfast-bell rang, and the boys were sent in to obtain the
morning meal. The merchant gave an outline of the loss and
recovery of his money. The captain asked a great many questions,
which were all answered to his satisfaction. Then he insisted that the
party should breakfast with him.
Mr. Longbrook accepted the invitation, and they entered the hotel. In
the vestibule the merchant met the justice to whom he intended to
apply for the warrant. He stated his case to him, and the gentleman
promised to have the warrant ready by the time he had finished his
breakfast. The party seated themselves at the table.
“A telegram for you, Captain Gildrock,” said one of the clerks,
bringing the message to him.
“‘Dory away; no pilot; cannot go up the lake.—Jepson,’” read the
captain from the despatch in his hand. “Then you did not come
down in the Sylph, Theodore. Of course you did not. I have heard
the story of your movements during the night. I telegraphed to you
last night from here to come down in the steamer, and take the new
scholars to Beech Hill.”
“I have the Goldwing here, and I can take them home in her,” replied
Dory.
“But I have ten boys with me: there they are at the other table.
They are about as wild and harum-scarum a set of youngsters as I

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