The late Archbishop Temple regarded Berdyaeff as one of the most important writers of the present time, and several good judges have said the same. He is a lonely, original, combative thinker, nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, whose philosophy is based solely on his own spiritual experience. Contradictions and ambiguities may certainly be found in his writings, but the same may be said of every philosopher who recognizes what Heraclitus calls the fathomless depths of human personality, the clash of Yes and No in which Boehme says that all things consist. For him omnia exeunt in mysterium. He does not attempt an ambitious and coherent system, or disguise his transient obligations to the various currents of thought which he has followed and in part rejected. As he says himself, “the contradictions which may be found in my thought are expressions of spiritual conflict, of contradictions which lie at the very heart of existence itself.”

The three hundred and fiftieth birthday of René Descartes and the three hundredth of G. W. Leibniz, both being commemorated this year, recall to mind an epoch which, in many respects, resembled our own more than any other period of modern history. The Thirty Years' War during which Descartes served four years in the armies of the Dukes of Nassau and Bavaria and the aftermath of which determined many circumstances of Leibniz's life and work, was largely an ideological war leaving Europe in a state of tension, which the Peace of Westphalia did little to allay. As a matter of fact, the strife continued in many changing forms up to the time of the American Declaration of Independence and the French Revolution, if it can be said at all to have been terminated by these events.

The idea of Importance has received scanty treatment in philosophical literature, yet it is always turning up. Whitehead has, indeed, spoken of “the sense of importance” as “nerving all civilized effort”; and elsewhere he names “importance” and “matter of fact” as “two ultimate notions.” But the passage where he considers these is all too short and elusive, and I know of no other direct discussion of the meaning of importance. Plenty of attention has, of course, been paid to the notion of interest. But “interest” does not cover the whole notion of importance; it covers at most that aspect which I shall call “relational importance.” “Importance” I shall suggest is a bridge notion, used to refer both to what matters in relation to some interest, and to what, as we say, “really matters.” It might therefore be worth considering its merits as a candidate for the position of generic term for value, since it can be subdivided so as to express both its relational and its absolutist aspects.

History has become a real and urgent problem. It harasses us in a double form, theoretical and practical, corresponding to the double meaning of the term “history” as either “a sequence of events in time” or “our knowledge of past events”. The first concerns our attitude to human history. We somehow suffer from “historical indigestion”. We may have mastered Nature, but we have certainly not yet mastered History. Therefore it threatens to dominate us. The mass of past events is too much for us and for our memory, too many dates, too many facts, too many interesting or indifferent happenings. We cannot even keep pace with, or realize, all the important events which fill our own times, like world-wars, revolutions, counter-revolutions, inflation and deflation, with all the misery they imply. Consciously or unconsciously we feel ashamed of the human record, of the amount of cruelty, destruction, murder, and martyrdom inflicted on innocent beings. In spite of all this we cannot escape History. All the great events affect every human being. Moreover, historical knowledge permeates our education and is disturbingly growing from year to year, more in detail and in specialization than as a co-ordinated whole. We may react to this situation in one of three ways: (1) by filling our brain with this unco-ordinated mass of historical knowledge, and submerging our personality in it, (2) by becoming specialists and disregarding problems other than our own, (3) by ignoring the past altogether, and falling back into the state of nature and barbarism. We have witnessed all these solutions and their disquieting results.

Our memories are private and particular; when you and I share an experience our experience is yet in the very moment of sharing different for you and for me, and our two memories of an event in the past are still more disparate. For memories are shaped and constrained by the deep-lying organic stress of what we have lived through, of our actual living, in the interval between then and now. A memory follows the solitary track of our individual experience, and, like the particle in modern Physical theory, is changed in and by the route it has traced.