It was, as the reader recalls, actually the thesis de omnibus dubitandum est that Johannes wanted to make the subject of his deliberation. Before that, he wanted to encourage himself with the conception of the relation of this thesis to philosophy. What he found out through a rather exhaustive ordeal was not very gratifying, for he was reduced to the feckless statement that this thesis lay outside philosophy and was a preparation. Yet even in this case his efforts would not be without reward, inasmuch as he, through such preparation, would make himself worthy of beginning philosophy later.
In one sense, there was nothing to prevent him now from proceeding to that thesis, for presumably he might learn from it what he had to do in order to be able to carry it out. Yet he thought it worth the trouble to examine what it could mean that philosophy requires such preparation. Thesis no. two provided occasion for that.
That philosophy requires such preparation he found to be entirely in order—indeed, it really appealed to him; his character, which was just as humble as it was bold, heartily approved of it. Even if he had managed to understand thesis no. one and by means of it slip into philosophy, he still would have been uneasy about whether or not he had arrived there too easily, because to obtain something without difficulty was a paradox to his adventuresome soul, which preferred to seek out hardships. 1He knew that previously a preparation such as this had been customary in the world. He knew that Pythagoras had commanded silence of his followers,2 that the Egyptian and Indian philosophers had used a similar period of probation; he knew that in the Church catechumens [IV B 1 140] had gone through prolonged schooling before being received into the Church. Indeed, the more important and significant that was into which one was to be initiated, in the same degree the test was more rigorous. The ascetic monastic orders and the gigantic Jesuit order were to him examples of this. No wonder, then, that philosophy in our age also required an ordeal! He also realized that it was unseemly for the follower to criticize the master. What the master saw fit to command must be done with enthusiasm and confidence, be it ever so offensive, ever so humiliating. That Pythagoras demanded silence, he understood, for the follower ought to be silent; that Diogenes insisted that one who wanted to be his follower had to walk behind him carrying a jar,3 he could very well understand; that the catechumen had to stand outside the door, kneel when the others stood, stand when the others kneeled, that the novice had to do the hardest work—all this he considered to be in order, and he would never have hesitated to obey if it had been required of him. But for another reason he was a bit hesitant about the prescribed preparation—it seemed to him not to be humble and modest enough.
He who doubts elevates himself above the person from whom he learns, and thus there is no frame of mind less appreciated by a teacher in his pupil than doubt. And yet it was doubt that was required of him; it was by doubting that he was supposed to prepare to become a philosopher. Once again he was in a predicament. 4Perhaps, he thought, this is a pious fraud. Perhaps this is the way to teach the follower to rely upon the master, just as the child is allowed to burn itself in the fire, is not warned against it, but is encouraged to do it because experience is regarded as the best teacher. Yet this explanation did not satisfy him. Then he found another by becoming aware that there is something elevated and noble in the conduct of philosophy. When the master [IV B 1 141] positively orders the follower to do something, it certainly is easier for the follower, because then the teacher assumes the responsibility. The follower, however, thereby becomes a less perfect being, one who has his life in another person. But by imposing something negative, the teacher emancipates the follower from himself, makes him just as important as himself. The relation of teacher and follower is indeed canceled. Johannes was well aware of this. “I cannot even know whether doubting is actually a preparation,” he said. “I am left to myself; I have to do everything on my own responsibility. Even though I could have wished to remain a minor for yet a while longer, even though I could have wished that there would be someone to give me orders so that I might have the joy of obeying, even though I anxiously feel that I have come of age too soon, even though I feel like a girl who marries too young—well, so it must be. 5The thesis de omnibus dubitandum est has once and for all been brought into my consciousness, and I shall endeavor to think it through to the best of my ability, to do what it says with all my passion. Come what may, whether it leads to everything or to nothing, makes me wise or mad, I shall stake everything but shall not let go of the thought. My visionary dreams about being a follower have vanished; before I was allowed to be young, I became old; now I am sailing on the open sea. The prospects I once conjured up about the relation of this thesis to philosophy have been blocked. I do not know a thing about the relation of this thesis to anything else. I can only follow its path; ‘like one who rows a boat, I turn my back toward the goal.’”6